Rated R by the MPAA – contains drug use, strong language, sexual content, brief nudity

On the surface Going the Distance is a perfectly serviceable romantic comedy with an R rating.  It’s aimed at the younger crowd of adults, featuring characters for whom they may feel sympathy, and has enough raunchy scenes that some might accuse it of being a Judd Apatow clone.  But if one were to look a little deeper they might find that the film isn’t actually all that great; some of it is uneven, with certain scenes being almost absolute failures.  But if one were to look deeper still it becomes apparent that these characters ought not be sympathetic because they are, at their cores, rotten.

The film opens as Garrett (Justin Long) is celebrating a birthday with his girlfriend Karen (June Diane Raphael).  His mistake is that he neglected to buy her a present, because she specifically told him not to.  Somehow this 30-ish year old single guy never figured out that girls often mean something other than what they say.

Later that night he’s sitting in the bar with his friends Box (Jason Sudeikis) and Dan (Charlie Day), who also happens to be his roommate.  Over beers and the arcade game Centipede he stumbles upon a similarly dispirited Erin (Drew Barrymore).  She’s a 31 year old intern at the New York Sentinel, and less than optimistic about her chances of achieving her dream of writing at a newspaper.  They hit it off and after some quick sex decide that they had a rather nice time together.  They both outline their plans and hopes for the future; she’s only in New York six more weeks before moving back to San Fransisco for school, and neither of them is looking for a longtime committed relationship.

Naturally, they enjoy sex and getting to know each other more than they might have imagined, and are a bit sad to leave each other at the end of the six weeks.  Thus begins their long distance relationship, one with occasional trips across the country, attempted phone sex, and a lot of frustration, suspicion, and jealousy.

If I were to say that Going the Distance takes few risks you might assume that everything turns out happily in the end, and I doubt this would be a big spoiler.  But that is the problem; everything does turn out happily in the end for these two wretched people.  As much as the film may try to convince the audience otherwise, both of the main characters are shallow and narcissistic, and their eventual (and slight) catharsis does little to change how they are viewed.  Erin is a bit of a slut, and Garrett is a self-centered jerk, incapable of understanding how others feel and want to be treated.  Their unpleasantness makes the big emotional scenes feel distant and cold.

There are some funny moments, to be sure.  Dan steals the show as Garrett’s free spirited roommate.  He plays mood music through the walls for Garrett’s hook-ups, and isn’t afraid to take a dump with the door open even if the living room is right next to the bathroom.  His views on man-hugging and man-crying are similarly humorous, even if his eccentric attitudes towards self-pleasure are a mere shadow of what is presented in Clerks.

Justin Long is effective at playing a nervous, slightly awkward character.  He’s the slightly older Michael Cera, able to communicate a more assured humor along with his stutterings.  Barrymore is effective enough as the raunchy Erin.  Some of the supporting characters are more amusing, with Garrett’s friend Box providing some highlights; his mustache is supposed to be a time machine intended to lure 45-60 year old women for his bucket list of partners.  Erin’s sister Corrinne (Christina Applegate) provides laughs as the experienced and married responsible adult, albeit with a sharp tongue and a fondness for crudity and crassness.

Going the Distance doesn’t take any risks or attempt to present something new or original.  It’s more raunchy than any PG-13 romantic comedy, but rarely bad enough to be a gross-out comedy.  The shallow characters struggle through some rough times, but eventually get to have their cake and eat it, too.  I find little to appreciate in such an approach, one that rewards unpleasant behavior and unpleasant characters whose moments of catharsis are sudden and relatively insignificant.  A number of elements in Going the Distance will appeal to fans of comedies or romantic comedies, and I won’t begrudge that audience their pleasure, no matter how shallow it may be.

Rated PG by the MPAA – contains some cartoonish violence and mild rude humor

Despicable Me is a pleasant surprise, adequately following through on its humorous advertising campaign.  It is strange that the film feels so foreign, so un-American, and this, too, is a pleasant surprise.  The film was produced by Chris Meledandri, who produced the Ice Age movies.  But this film is a new endeavor by an upstart production company, Illumination.  It’s their first in what looks to be a long line of animated features.  I, for one, wouldn’t mind seeing more of their creativity.

The story is cute without being too original, though it is one of the first of the upcoming crop of super villain-focused films.  Gru (Steve Carell) is the despicable person of the title, and he is a villain of epic proportions.  Maybe not so epic, actually, as he confesses to his minions that they only stole the small Eiffel Tower from Las Vegas.  Gru lives in an evil-looking house in a pleasant suburb.  Beneath his gothic abode is a gigantic cavern where he houses his hundreds of minions, an evil scientist named Dr. Nefarious (Russell Brand), and all of his inventions.

As the film opens the pyramids of Giza have been stolen by a mastermind, and discovered by an American family of tourists in one of the most biting satires of American behavior in the film.  The problem is that Gru was not the evil genius behind this plot, and is soon relegated to second or third fiddle in the evil genius rankings.  But he has a plan that will propel him to the top: he is going to steal the moon.

But first he needs a shrink-ray, which Communist scientists in Eastern Asia have been developing.  Before that, however, he needs additional funds.  He heads down to his trusty banked (formerly named Lehman Brothers, says a sign above the entrance).  Here Gru is reduced to groveling at the feet of a massive evil banker, in just one of the many apropos moments in the movie.  The banker has turned villainy into a profitable enterprise, and prefers to grant loans only to those villains whose work can ensure high ransom figures.

Gru is left to acquire the shrink ray on his own before the bank will assist him.  However, his new nemesis, Vector (Jason Segel), is one step ahead of him, and Gru will need to infiltrate his compound in order to claim the weapon.  Gru’s physical attempts at penetrating his security are thwarted, and he turns to more nefarious methods of claiming the prize.

After observing three young girls selling cookies, he alights on the idea of adopting them in order to gain access to Vector’s dwelling.  He persuades the orphanage head that he’s a good guy, which isn’t hard when she’s busy exploiting the children and profiting from their cookie-selling.  The children are adorable; Margo (Miranda Cosgrove), Edith (Dana Gaier), and Agnes (Elsie Fisher).  They create a number of problems for Gru, who discovers he can’t treat them like pet dogs.

The rest of the plot is fairly predictable, as Gru learns that the girls might mean more to him than even his own villainy.  While the story is not particularly complex, it is sweet and pleasant, and Gru’s problems with his own mother add an extra layer to his character.  But it is his villainy that is more amusing, as in an opening montage that introduces him performing various nefarious deeds.

The film works on a number of levels, and doesn’t just rest on Gru’s evil nature.  The minions are a highlight; the little yellow blobs with one or two eyes and goggles are immediately endearing, executing Gru’s plans witlessly and faithfully.  The girls, too, are adorable, particularly the youngest.  They pull at the heartstrings and poke the funny bone, but are never too trite to be annoying.

Part of the film’s charm comes from the imaginative designs incorporated into Gru and Vector’s schemes.  Their houses are vastly different, with Vector’s modern home a model of modern Spartan living, while Gru sits in chairs made of giant animals.  Their various aircraft and weapons are also humorous and enjoyable.  It is interesting, too, just how un-American the film is.  Not anti-American, mind you, just not firmly grounded in American suburbia.  Cars look decidedly European, and the few coins present are certainly not American.  These elements add a nuanced and different flavor to the film.

Despicable Me has some timely comments to make on the economy.  Gru grovels before the head of the bank, who is an even more evil man than Gru.  Eventually Gru decides to self-finance his rocket to the moon, after a rousing display of support from his minions after they were told they might have to face layoffs.  With all of these various elements in play, and the stylish and colorful palette used to draw the characters and backgrounds (at least in 2D), Despicable Me is an enjoyable family movie, with enough cute and exciting moments to appeal to children and enough timeliness and design inspiration to engage the attentions of adults.

Rated PG by the MPAA – contains some language and mature themes

In a lot of ways Dad represents the worst of the motion picture industry.  It is not truly awful, and therefore able to be enjoyed in its badness.  And yet it is good in very few ways.  It is an entirely manipulative movie, mediocre in its execution, and nearly excruciating to watch at times on account of its generic lameness.  There may be some spoilers ahead, but I refuse to excuse myself.

There are undoubtedly some interesting themes to be mined from the story. John Tremont (Ted Danson) is a Wall Street executive, busy buying up companies and closing them down.  He has an ex-wife, a kid he rarely sees (Ethan Hawke), and a mother and father who aren’t doing too well.  When his mom, Bette (Olympia Dukakis), falls ill with a heart problem he leaves his job to take for his elderly father, Jake (Jack Lemmon).  Jake has been so reliant on Bette that he can no longer perform even the simplest tasks on his own.

John’s first order of business is to get his father back into working order while his mother recovers in the hospital.  Pretty soon Jake is dressing himself, washing the dishes (thanks to a plethora of detailed Post-It notes), and enjoying nights out at bingo with his son (even though most of his old friends, with whom he lost contact, are dead).  Jake’s improvement is impressive, even to John’s sister (Kathy Baker) and her husband (a frightfully mustachioed Kevin Spacey).

But then mom gets better and is terrified to learn that there is a new familial order to which she must become accustomed.  Then, because mom has already had heart problems, it is necessary (for the story) for dad to be struck with cancer.  He is terrified, as the C-word has always been a great fear of his.  And because John and his father have become closer during mom’s convalescence John feels an even more personal need to take close care of his dad.

The doctors try to make Jake comfortable, but nothing seems to be working.  At this point John makes a scene, rebels against the hospital staff, and carries his father home in an emotional scene with a musical upswell.  It seems as though this is supposed to be a serious scene, of the variety they might play at the Oscars, but it feels hokey and utterly laughable.  The doctors seem perfectly reasonable, and I found my sympathies lying with them as they attempt to do their jobs.  But Jake’s outbreak is supposed to be sympathetic, and it seems as though the doctor’s are supposed to be the bad guys.  This is just one instance of the film’s incredible inconsistency.

At various times, both during his “recovery” from Bette’s care and after his stabilization from the cancer, Jake has inexplicable bouts of senility.  At times he can dance and enjoy life, and other times he can’t remember a thing and is frightened by the world.  This could possibly be partially explained by the bizarre introduction of schizophrenia into the script, but this is just an additional illness that is neither necessary nor welcome.

Added into the mix of melodrama and seriousness are slapstick scenes that destroy any atmosphere or sense of the profound.  A scene where Jake attempts to regain his driver’s license is destroyed by John suddenly becoming a helicopter “parent”.  Another scene involving Jake pantomiming working with tools is inexplicable and unintentionally humorous.  It’s hard to tell if these scenes are supposed to provide comic relief from the serious discussion of disease and aging.  They go so far overboard that they destroy any pacing or emotional impact that may have been building.

Movies whose main characters suffer from an incurable disease are often nearly intolerable.  Such a delicate and painful situation is hard to balance properly, and Dad fails incredibly by having a large number of diseases (cardiovascular, cancerous, and schizophrenic).  The appearance of Ted Danson, who is in nearly every scene, is decidedly unwelcome.  The first time he walks down a hallway it is painfully evident that this was filmed in the 1980′s.  Jack Lemmon has some poignant moments, but his character is written so erratically that even Lemmon has trouble hitting any of the right notes.

Every good movie is manipulative in certain ways.  Emotions must be touched with visuals or appropriate music, and the audience is caused to feel something new or different.  In Dad each moment of manipulation (and there are a great number) is so unsubtle that it becomes clear when and why the audience is supposed to be manipulated.  It tells the viewer when to feel what, and tells him or her loudly.

I imagine there are a number of people who feel a great affinity to this film, possibly due to experiencing similar difficulties to those in the film, and I fear my negative review might minimize their personal experiences.  I would not want this to be the case, so if you enjoyed or appreciated the movie please be assured that I mean you no personal offense.  For a viewer without a strong attachment to the themes or actors involved in the picture, its flaws become more evident and it is much more difficult to forgive the film for its trespasses against cinema.

Not rated by the MPAA – contains some language, disturbing content, discussions about violence

Cropsey is decidedly a documentary, and does not veer into the territory recently inhabited by The Blair Witch Project or Paranormal Activity [review here].  It is all true, or at least the footage does not purport to be something it is not.  This is refreshing, and provides for a much more effective and affecting film.

The subject matter is interesting; is there a smattering of truth in the urban legends a child might hear while growing up?  Directors Joshua Zeman and Barbara Brancaccio, growing up on Staten Island, had heard stories of a sinister person who inhabited the grounds surrounding an abandoned mental institution.  If kids entered the woods they might be targets of this killer named Cropsey.

At one point in the mid 1980′s this became a reality, when a young girl named Jennifer Schweiger disappeared.  A massive effort was launched to find her or her body after police efforts proved fruitless.  It was then revealed that there had been other children who had gone missing.  Their cases just hadn’t been so publicized.

Jennifer’s body was eventually uncovered, buried in a shallow grave in the woods.  A man soon came to the forefront of police investigations.  Andre Rand had been a janitor at the mental institution, but when it closed he, like many of the prematurely released inmates, chose to camp and live on the hospital’s grounds.  He was sinister and creepy, and refused to speak openly on his charges.  He was guilty as sin in the eyes of the community.

Zeman and Brancacchio’s journey takes them through the history of the cases, including interviews with parents and police involved.  An ongoing thread is their attempt to secure a video interview with Rand, still in jail.  But his sanity is questionable, and the goose chases on which he leads them seem inconclusive.  Indeed, Cropsey as a whole is rather inconclusive, but it was never about the crime itself.

Cropsey, like the best documentaries (such as Mr. Death: The Rise and Fall of Fred A. Leuchter, Jr. [review here]), keeps most of its cards hidden for a while.  Occasionally a massive, movie-shattering plot point will drop, and the entire film turns a new direction.  This technique ensures that the film never grows stale or becomes boring.  There are some major themes that run through the entire picture, such as how the media can so easily turn the public’s mind against an accused person.  More disturbingly, though, Zeman and Brancacchio explore how easily the community wants to believe that Rand is the bad guy.

There is a mob mentality that the film explores, the way in which entire groups of people want an answer and justice so badly that they are willing to pounce on the first reasonable suspect.  This may cause the viewer to stop and ponder, particularly as Rand appears so perfectly guilty.  But with an entire community crying for blood it becomes apparent why there were witch hunts a few centuries back.  Perhaps humankind hasn’t progressed as far as we might like to believe.

There is also the subject of folklore, of urban legend, that the film so thoroughly examines.  When a story like that of Cropsey appears, how much of it may be based in a grain of truth?  And how much of it may be a result of the story’s audience, those willing to believe bits of it and pass it on?  The way the stories grow and flourish is what makes urban legends such fascinating material.

The most sad and disturbing part of the film is its depiction of Staten Island.  For decades it had been the dumping ground for New York, with landfills and dead bodies from the days of massively organized crime.  Most depressing was its use as a deposit station for a large number of mentally unwell people.  It seems almost exactly the way it was depicted in The Snake Pit [review here], a thought that is most certainly not encouraging.  Worse still, when the institution closed they simply released many of the inmates.  With no continuing care they ended up loitering around the grounds.  Some evidence unearthed in the film suggests that a group of them  may have used underground tunnels as a discrete railroad.  Scenes filmed in these passageways are intensely creepy.

A good deal of the paranoia in the community came from fears in the 1980′s of a massive occult conspiracy alleging that satanists were abducting kids.  Many in Staten Island were convinced that a group of devil worshipers were stealing children to use in their Satanic rites, a topic fiction films like House of the Devil [review here] touch upon.  These charges were groundless, but the idea of the group-think that created such theories is frightening.

Cropsey manages to cover a variety of topics, and never pretends to definitively answer any of its questions.  For this it should be applauded.  The film is adequately crafted, very much in the style of an investigative report, an approach that is most appropriate.  For fans of urban legends and the indefinite place from which horror movies spring, Cropsey is a obvious choice.

Rated R by the MPAA – contains gratuitous nudity, wanton violence and gore, CG blood, drug use, bad behavior, language, and more nudity

Note: This review discusses some of the more unpleasant aspects of Piranha 3D, and should only be read by mature movie-goers.  It may also contain a few spoilers.

Rarely has a film succeeded so gratuitously in its intentions as Piranha 3D.  It is shameless in its exploitation, and manages to fill the void in true grindhouse American cinema that has been lacking for so many years.  It is what Grindhouse itself should have been.  And it’s the closest America has ever seen to the Japanese shock films of the past few years; it only took a renowned French director to bring it to life.

Alexandre Aja broke onto the horror scene with High Tension, an intense and horrific film that helped usher in a new era of European horror.  That film was initially rated NC-17, and was undeniably more unsettling that Piranha 3D.  However, it contained nowhere near the amount of gratuitous nudity or CG blood that Piranha 3D managed to sneak by the MPAA.  I would have paid a small fortune to listen in as the MPAA’s panel of “parents” discussed the film and decided it would be appropriate for any age of person if a parent or guardian accompanied them.

The first portion of the film is standard setup, with an amusing cameo by top billed Richard Dreyfuss as a fisherman who loses a bottle of beer as he fishes Lake Victoria.  An earthquake unleashes a hidden deposit of prehistoric piranhas and poor Richard melts into a cyclone of blood as the throwback title shimmers to the screen.  A perfect opening for a pitch-perfect exploitation film.

The small desert town of Lake Victoria is home to a small population most of the year, but swells for a week during an orgiastic spring break celebration.  Sheriff Julie Forester (Elisabeth Shue) struggles to maintain order during the bikini-clad partying, even though she has strongman Deputy Fallon (Ving Rhames) backing her up.  At home she has to contend with her 17 year old son Jake (Steven R. McQueen) and her two younger children.  Jake has his own problems, including the forced babysitting of the younger kids as the wet dream of any teenage boy unfolds around him.  Compounding matters are a cute high school friend named Kelly (Jessica Szohr); they appear to be exes but are definitely friendly and may still have feelings for each other.

Jake gets caught up in a new adventure, as playboy manipulator Derrick Jones (Jerry O’Connell as the founder of Girls Gone Wild, though we mustn’t mention this fact for fear of libel suits) enlists him to be a location scout for his soft-core porn videos.  His outfit is Wild Wild Girls, featuring a website and videos wherein girls remove the majority of their clothing and occasionally make out with each other.  Along for the ride are Danni (the scientifically endowed Kelly Brook) and Crystal (real-life porn star Riley Steele).  The two of them will be the main stars of Derrick’s new video series.

The first section of the film has only occasional moments of violence and gore, culminating with a seismological team guided by Sheriff Forester being attacked by hordes of piranhas.  Much of the first half of the film is almost entirely focused on random and gratuitous nudity.  Part of Derrick’s shoot involves naked Danni and Crystal gyrating together underwater in a nude ballet.  The scene is remarkably reminiscent of the 1934 Tarzan and His Mate, wherein Maureen O’Sullivan (and her body double) taunted the Production Code.

The violence starts up again when a wet t-shirt contest is interrupted by swarms of piranhas and the Wild Wild Girls boat encounters some problems.  The last half of the film is an orgy of blood, with almost nothing but CG piranhas chomping CG bites out of a bevy of bikini clad spring breakers.

Piranha 3D’s success as an exploitation movies lies in how well it understands the genre.  There are serious moments in the film, but none of them expects to be taken seriously.  Christopher Lloyd appears for a brief cameo as a respected scientist, and his scenes are some of the most enjoyably laughable.  Even the blood and gore is treated humorously, with almost all of it being computer generated like the recent Tokyo Gore Police [review here] and almost all other Japanese shock films.  The CG ranges from barely acceptable to absolutely dreadful, but at least there is no CG rain like in Hard Revenge Milly [review here].  Much of the violent action occurs as flurries of piranha movement, and it is often difficult to discern which body parts are being consumed.

As mentioned above, there is a ridiculous amount of nudity in the film.  After about twenty minutes, however, it feels less like a natural part of the exploitation film and more like a soft corn porno.  It eventually devolves into more of a debasement than a celebration of the human form, with Derrick taking much of the blame for that development.  His comeuppance is fitting, though probably not enough: his lower torso is consumed by piranhas, and his penis is later shown floating through the water where it is consumed by one piranha and then vomited out toward any audience (un)fortunate enough to be watching it in 3D.  Unfortunately this is the only instance of male nudity, and it certainly isn’t enough to balance such an amount of female nudity.  The shot of the dismembered penis does match well with another in which Crystal’s silicon implants are shown floating away from her devoured corpse.

As pure, unadulterated (or is that overadulterated?) exploitation America hasn’t seen anything like Piranha 3D in quite some time.  It is adequately shot, not-too-laughably written and acted, and understands that it doesn’t need to bother with plot, story, or characters too much.  As Blood Boobs and Beast [review here] so efficiently stated, if you have those three elements your movie will be successful.

It’s hard for me to recommend Piranha 3D to most audiences for those same reasons.  It is the ultimate satisfier of the most base human desires, offering everything (and more) that man could want in a film.  But even with Derrick’s penis being eaten it doesn’t include enough redemption of any kind, other than as an historical landmark in the history of American exploitation cinema (directed by a Frenchman).  The inclusion of Elisabeth Shue is welcome, as she is the most attractive female in the film.  Devoid of silicon she is the most natural woman and strongest character in the film, and makes me appreciate my own wife more.  But any themes her inclusion might carry are vastly overshadowed by extended sequences that could have literally been ripped from “Girls Gone Wild,” albeit with better lighting and more recognizable boobs.

But Piranha 3D is the perfect film for a certain audience; this is undeniable.  Fans of horror and exploitation films will be delighted, even if Piranha 3D is almost too overt in its eagerness to provide momentary satisfaction, and little else, for the majority of its intended audience.

Rated R by the MPAA – contains some language, blood, violence, and suspense

There haven’t been a great number of quality American horror films in the past few years.  Not that the genre has ever been particularly high-brow, but there seems to have been a more dire dearth in the past decade.  Meanwhile, European horror, including French films like Inside [review here] and High Tension and the less effective Martyrs [review here] have taken center stage as far as the genre is concerned.

For these reasons it is rather pleasant to see such a precise and measured retelling of a well-trodden story in an American horror movie.  Director Ti West knows the history of the horror film, and crafts a remarkably effective pastiche of a time when horror was much simpler, more frightening, and not afraid of blood.  Even the small things are properly honored, such as the opening titles suddenly freezing like many were in the 1970′s.  Lovers of the genre, in particular, will appreciate these little touches.

The story revolves around college student Samantha (Jocelin Donahue).  She is fresh-faced, eager, and enthusiastic, but is about to discover the burdens of living on one’s own.  An opening scene with an appearance by Dee Wallace has Sam looking at an apartment, one that would perfectly suit her.  The down payment isn’t large, but still far beyond her current means.  Searching for jobs she finds a flier asking for an emergency babysitter.  Inquiring into the job she finds it a little creepier than she would like.  The man on the other end blows her off, then begs for her to help him.  She agrees to an interview, and takes her best friend Megan (Greta Gerwig) along.  Driving out into the countryside they find an old mansion, and are greeted by a similarly aged man.

Mr. Ulman (Tom Noonan) explains that he is in dire need.  There is an event occurring at the full moon that requires the presence of him and his wife (Mary Woronov).  The problem is that his mother is even older than he and needs someone in the house to ensure her safety and security.  Sam is cautious, as is Megan, but the promise of enough money to pay her deposit and afford her some significant spending money sways her feelings.  She agrees to spend the night there, in the house, alone with Mr. Ulman’s unseen mother.

The setup is perfectly bland and generic, but done with enough aplomb to be  convincing.  The acting is subtle and effective and the camera work is slow and methodical, giving the impression that some crewmembers on the film had some experience in the industry.  It is Sam’s night alone in the mansion that provides an incredible amount of suspense as the film turns into a haunted house story.  Odd noises abound and Sam’s exploration of the house provides plenty of “don’t look in there” moments.

Then there is a moment of unexpected bloodiness that is shocking and incredible, and sets the stage for the final third of the film.  There is a slight letdown when the reveal is made, but the film impressively makes up for it with tight editing, frightening visuals, and an unrelenting pace reminiscent of the ferocity of Inside.  The payoff isn’t terribly surprising, given the name of the film and an opening title that tells of the great Satanic panic that ensconced parts of the nation in the 1980′s.  The film does a fine job poking amusing fun at the notion, while playing to its greatest fears.

The mystery and the suspense in a film is almost always greater than the answer.  As David Lynch might say, once the mysterious is revealed what’s left?  Hitchcock knew that the bomb under the seat on the bus was far more suspenseful than the actual explosion.  And so it is in House of the Devil; the first two thirds is frightening and atmospheric because the audience does not know the reasons behind what’s happening.  Most movies collapse under their own weight once the reveal is made (this is a reason I often prefer films without a solid answer or reveal), unless the answer or reason is greater than the mystery or suspense.  Happily, in House of the Devil the answer is nearly equal to the task, thus preventing a moment of enormous disappointment.

House of the Devil stays true to its inspirations, and even includes a quick twist at the end in the vein of every horror movie ever made.  The film is refreshingly chaste, but does allow for a large amount of blood in the final third.  Moments are extremely bloody, but rarely disgustingly gory.  The filmmaking is quite impressive, with long static shots reminiscent of Suspiria [review here].  House of the Devil is an admirable effort by a very young filmmaker, and grants a fresh breath of life into the American horror genre.

Rated R by the MPAA – contains violence, some gore, and language

One mustn’t expect a great deal going into a film titled Predators.  The name is a sign of its throwback cheesiness, a reminder of past 1980′s action films like its namesake, Predator.  The plot is even sillier than the title, and in a self-aware cheesy film this wouldn’t normally be a problem.  Predators, unfortunately, so relentlessly treats its silliness in such a serious manner that it occasionally crosses the line into dullness.

One might recall that in Arnold Schwarzenegger’s 1987 original there was a creature from a distant planet, one that pursued its victims with an intense zeal.  Its goal in life was merely to hunt, to kill creatures and take pleasure from the hunt and the kill.  In Predators the scenario is reversed: instead of a small band of humans on earth hunted by one predator, there is a small band of humans on a foreign planet hunted by a pack of predators.

The film opens in an entertaining fashion, with Adrien Brody’s mercenary character free-falling into a lush planet surface.   His chute opens at the last second and he survives the fall.  Soon other bodies are splatting into the ground, most surviving the impact while a less fortunate one or two find their chutes less reliable than they might have hoped.

The men (and woman) are well-armed, and all seem to have been terrible killers on earth.  There is a person from each hot-spot on the planet.  Isabelle (City of God’s Alice Braga) is a trained South American sniper.  Hanzo (Louis Ozawa Changchien) is a silent Yakuza gangster with deadly skills.  Cuchillo (Danny Trejo) is a Mexican gangster sporting dual uzis.  And then there’s Edwin (Topher Grace), a bespectacled nerd who can barely run away to save his life.  His presence is all the more odd given his apparent lack of murderous skills.

Adrien Brody’s mercenary (his name is saved until near the end of the film, so I wouldn’t want to spoil it here) rounds up the troops and leads them through a jungle that no one recognizes.  However, it isn’t until they break into the open and spot numerous other planets orbiting in close proximity that they realize they are no longer on planet Earth.  As they march they encounter a variety of increasingly deadly obstacles.  Giant spiked dog creatures, ripped directly from Avatar’s [review here] Pandora, attack them but are recalled by a mysterious whistle before too many characters die.  Soon they realize that some form of deadly creature is slowly, inexorably hunting them, but it isn’t until they encounter a rotund survivor *spoiler* named Noland (Laurence Fishburne) that they realize they are in the middle of a grand plan executed by a race of incredibly advanced hunters.

The first time a predator is clearly visible it is striking, a weirdly fleshy abomination that could conjure legitimate terror in the audience.  Soon, however, there are numerous shots of armor-clad predators, each one looking more like the titular Creature from the Black Lagoon than the epitome of violent evolution.  It is unfortunate that the creatures alternately look frightfully warlike and cheesily costumed, particularly when the rest of the film succeeds in capturing an atmospheric jungle aesthetic.  Being a strange planet, there are a number of other environments that the filmmakers feel free to exploit.  Each is adequately inspired by classic science fiction, even the enormous spaceships in which Noland has fortified himself.

Noland’s appearance is one of the greatest moments in the film, particularly when the realization dawns that this is Laurence Fishburne.  It becomes increasingly implausible, however, as it becomes clear that he has survived several hunting seasons on the planet and still looks nearly as well fed as a man with a lifetime invitation to an all-you-can-eat buffet.  This is just one of the many implausible scenarios presented by the film, but if one is hoping to nitpick a film they probably should not be watching Predators in the first place.  Topher Grace provides the most laughs, if only because his appearance is so highly incongruous.  Unfortunately, the eventual exposition regarding his choice as one of Earth’s elite killers is inadequate, leaving the viewer hoping for just a little more.

There are a couple interesting elements in the film outside of the basic struggle between humans and predators.  The idea that Earth’s most experienced killers have been grouped together is interesting, particularly when Isabelle notes that they are now being treated just as they have treated numerous people on Earth.  The tables are turned and these killers are not particularly pleased.  But even this potentially intriguing thought is quickly forgotten in a barrage of cliche action phrases and random violent encounters.

The violence in the film might please some action fans, but is generally not noteworthy for gore or extreme violence.  The grandest fatality occurs when a predator finishes a human with a spinal yank that includes the head.  There is also an extended sequence in which Hanzo faces off with a predator in bladed combat.  A long shot establishes the action and attempts to be arty, reminiscent of past samurai movies.  But this long shot is poorly framed and pretentious, and even though the colors are striking and the conflict absurd, the scene oscillates between silliness and coolness.

This vacillation ends up being Predators’ biggest problem.  It takes itself seriously, as a throwback to the action films of two decades past, but is never quite garish or exploitative enough to capture the joys of the genre.  There are a few too many serious cliches without enough winking nods, and this may lead the viewer to think that the film is pretentious instead of an homage.  Either way, there is enough action to satisfy some fans of the genre, and enough camp to generally be enjoyable.

Night of the Living Dead (1968): United States – directed by George Romero

Not rated by the MPAA – contains violence, some gore, brief partial nudity, some language, intense themes

Few films in the history of cinema have laid as complete a groundwork for an entire subsequent genre as George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead.  His reimagining of the undead creatures known as zombies created the rules for countless films, novels, comic books, and video games, in addition to a number of sequels.  The Italians, in particular, reworked the formula in a variety of ways after the film’s sequel, Dawn of the Dead, made such a splash.

Such an impact is rather strange for such a small movie, one with no budget and a lack of any greater intentions.  Night of the Living Dead is a prime example of art being successful because of what audiences inferred rather than what the creators intended.  But, similar to how truly bad movies are enjoyable because the filmmakers believed they were good, Night of the Living Dead is effective because of how simple and unpretentious it is.

The premise is simple; an unknown cause, possibly a satellite brought back to earth, is making people commit acts of wanton murder, and possibly even cannibalism.  The outbreak is gradual at first but seems to spread rapidly.  Barbra (Judith O’Dea) and her brother Johnny (Russell Streiner) are visiting the grave of their father, a ritual trip that takes them several hours and only provides a single bouquet of flowers for the grave.  This particular day is overcast and slightly ominous, and becomes more frightening when a strange man attacks Barbra in the cemetery.

Barbra runs, leaving Johnny to fend off the maniac.  She soon finds an abandoned farmhouse and takes refuge.  She is soon joined by Ben (Duane Jones), a man who realizes the world has gone wrong and he must do something to protect himself.  In the house are other survivors, a young couple and a slightly older couple with a young wounded girl.  Ben, a black man, takes charge of the situation in a frightfully effective manner.  The simple fact that his race was never intended to be an issue gives the film a deeper, more profound subtext than the onscreen action might indicate.

Despite the threat of a great number of murderous and ravenous maniacs, the survivors manage to fight among themselves as much as they fight the walking dead.  Survival is portrayed as a dreadful melting pot, reducing everyone to their most base human instincts.  Murder, greed, and quibbling for power and food are just some of the ways the survivors interact.  Their behavior becomes not much different than that of the undead, who are basic organisms struggling to find flesh to survive.  With the simple analogy of zombies Romero manages to make a host of social comments on human behavior.

The film is dreadful and terrifying, mostly because of the vast horde of zombies.  One or two are easy to kill, but more keep coming.  They will not stop until they break down the doors and feast on your limbs, and it is impossible to hide from them no matter where you take refuge.  But this is just part of the reason Night of the Living Dead creates such a tense atmosphere of continuous terror.  The undead are also frightening because they are so like humans.  They are not the faceless Other that so many other horror movies utilize to create terror.  They are us, people, stripped of all the trappings of civility and culture.

But there is a key difference between the zombies in the film and the survivors.  The humans are constantly hoping for rescue, sure that someone will come or that they will be able to reach a safe zone.  They fight to survive and are always sure that something out there will help them or enable them to remain alive.  Even if their hope is never fulfilled (at least in the manner they expect), this spark is what truly separates the living from the undead, and gives Night of the Living Dead a more profoundly human context.

The film’s historical context is also remarkably fascinating.  It came just as the MPAA was about to create its rating system, but was released exactly one month before the MPAA’s ratings went into effect on November 1st.  It played various theaters as part of a double bill with the latest sci-fi creature feature that the kids loved.  Schlocky science fiction had been the staple of the Saturday afternoon matinee, and children enjoyed screaming in mock horror as bizarre creatures wreaked havoc.  But then this film played, and the kids grew more quiet as the film’s violence began to take hold.  Culminating in a violent trowel stabbing of a parent by a child, the film probably scarred a generation of children.  (Read Roger Ebert’s first hand reminisces of the event here.)

There had rarely been this level of darkness, of violence, of hopelessness, onscreen before.  This was a new kind of horror film, a scary kind of horror film.  The genre’s landscape was changed forever.  Night of the Living Dead is more remarkable for its cultural effects than it is for its technical prowess, but this does not hinder its impact.  The film’s flaws just make it more difficult for modern viewers to appreciate the profound change that it brought to the movie industry.  Even a long-time fan of the film will immediately notice some choppy editing toward the beginning of the film, and it is hard to ignore the overt swelling of the stock music that the filmmakers were able to purchase on the cheap.  But the atmosphere eventually settles in, and Romero’s deep shadows overwhelm everything else.  The zombies don’t stop harassing the small group of survivors as they protect their tiny spit of land, and suddenly any concerns with the production are lost.

Night of the Living Dead is remarkable both for its examination of the basic human condition and for its powerful position in film history, not to mention its incredible racial relevance in a nation undergoing a painful Civil Rights movement.  Any of these topics could provide material for an entire book, but it would be a mistake to forget the simple, visceral terror that the movie creates.  Rarely has a horror film been simultaneously so frightening, so disturbing, and so groundbreaking.

Rated PG-13 by the MPAA – contains language and some intense war room scenarios

It is a pity that Thirteen Days is not a better film, for the subject matter is exceedingly fascinating.  It is based on the true story of how the White House had to deal with a threat closer and more dangerous than any they had experienced before, but some of the technical aspects of the production bog down the story and prevent the film from having the power that it should.  Some of the intensity of the situation and the enormous impact the players’ decisions had is worthy of a better treatment than afforded here.

Kenny O’Donnell (Kevin Costner) is the President’s top aide in 1962.  John F. Kennedy (Bruce Greenwood) is in the White House, and Kenny and his brother Bobby (Steven Culp) are his most trusted advisers.  It is the height of the Cold War, and direct conflict with Russia is a constant worry.  Then a U2 pilot makes a run of the recently Communist Cuba and discovers something frightening: missile silos that ought not be there.

Kenny jumps into action, bringing the President into a whirlwind of information that will change the course of the country.  The events that play out over the next thirteen days (as explained by the title) are of such import that it is difficult to fathom.  Various meetings are called with Kennedy’s cabinet, but no information is made public.

Communication with Soviet Russia is difficult, and this lack of communication is a major theme in the film.  Broad gestures are interpreted as narrowly as possible in an attempt to discern intention.  The United Nations is little help, until Adlai Stevenson (Michael Fairman) brings his considerable amount of experience to the table.  The jostle back and forth between bluff and threat continues until the countries are nearly at a terrifying point of no return.

The story, for some, may lack suspense because everyone knows the world did not end in 1962.  But Thirteen Days is less about the potential consequences of the crisis, and more about the specific role that leadership takes in time of dire need.  Kennedy here struggles with the same problems that Henry V faced in Henry V [review here].  He has to weigh a great number of factors, not the least of which is the safety of millions of Americans.  He has cabinet members to please and take advice from, past leaders with wisdom he ought not ignore.  He has his closest advisers and friends to consider, those he trusts the most.  His is the most difficult role, and the gravity of the situation is captured well in Thirteen Days.  The weight of having 80 million lives in his hands is overpowering, and Greenwood does  a fine job showing how the President had to wrestle with every possible outcome before making any decisions.

In spite of the magnitude of the situation, the movie does not adequately capture the enormity of the choices the leaders make.  Technical problems prevent the film from having as much power as it should, though its faults do not entirely sink the movie.  The problems start as soon as Costner opens his mouth.  His accent is bizarre and off-putting.  It wasn’t until later in the film that I realized he was supposed to be a Massachusetts native.  The on-again off-again nature of his speech left me wondering if he was from the deep South or the North East or somewhere in between.  Any scenes involving him or his large family (he had a strong Catholic background) are not as effective as they might have been had he been more believable.  And when the weight of the world lies on the shoulders of the President, why make his top aide the primary character?  Perhaps it had to do with an A-lister being in the cast but not looking like John Kennedy.

Another problem lies in the dialogue, so O’Donnell’s speaking patterns are not entirely Costner’s fault.  Many scenes are stilted and over-dialogued, with words that few actual people would use in similar situations.  Certain segments, primarily those involving meetings with the cabinet, are staged more like a theatrical play, lending an overly dramatic and stagy feel to the otherwise tense situations.  Pacing also presents a problem for director Roger Donaldson.  The film is nearly two and a half hours long, and feels the need to include every key situation in the crisis.  It also feels like it should have an emotional human core and therefore spends some time with O’Donnell’s family, but this is perfunctory and generally ineffective.

With some tightening and some better script writing and dialogue coaching, Thirteen Days could have been a superior motion picture.  As it stands there are a great number of themes to appreciate and ponder, but some oppressive faults that prevent it from having its full effect.  Fans of historical dramas would do well to seek it out, while fans of other genres would be better served watching a pair of shorter films.

Rated PG-13 by the MPAA – contains cartoony violence, some sexual content and themes, and some language

Scott Pilgrim vs. the World opens on the perfect note: an 8-bit approximation of the Universal Pictures logo as it might have appeared on the SNES, accompanied by a MIDI soundtrack of the Universal theme.  Then, as soon as the characters are introduced with on-screen stats and graphics, it becomes clear that the entire movie will be a mash-up of video game and comic book.

For anyone familiar with Edgar Wright’s work, this should be no surprise.  As far back as “Spaced,” one of the greatest modern television series, Wright displayed a unique panache for visual flair and transitions.  With a limited television budget and a compressed schedule he managed to imbue his comedy about two jobless flat inhabitants in a familiar England with a pop sensibility rarely rivaled.  It was clear from the beginning that Wright’s geekdom was supreme.

With Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz Wright continued his streak of hits, with the help of Simon Pegg and Nick Frost.  Both films are ultra-modern and hip, but also based in human emotions (at least those of the younger generation).  With Scott Pilgrim vs. the World Wright manages the same effect, though the effort lacks the charisma and chemistry of Frost and Pegg.  Nevertheless, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World succeeds as a frenetic, visually dense and culturally hip telling of Bryan Lee O’Malley’s graphic novel.

I have no knowledge of the graphic novels, and had no clue what to expect of the filmed version outside of the trailers.  Fortunately, the entire story is self-explanatory; this is not something heavily rooted in a Marvel or DC universe where an uninitiated audience might feel lost and confused.  The central characters in the film are Scott (Michael Cera, in a more animated form of his normal character) and his small group of friends.  He has a band, the Sex Bob-ombs, comprised of the heavily freckled Kim Pine (Alison Pill) and the relatively normal Stephen Stills (Mark Webber).  They have one groupie, Young  Neil (Johnny Simmons), who is soon joined by Scott’s new girlfriend, the 17-yr old Catholic schoolgirl Knives Chau (Ellen Wong).  Their relationship is chaste and innocent, and naive enough that Scott receives a lot of flack from his friends.

Scott’s roommate, Wallace Wells (Keiran Culkin), is one of the more interesting characters.  He’s gay and shares a bed (out of necessity) with Scott in their small apartment.  A number of humorous scenes involving Wallace’s boyfriends and the bed will get some chuckles from a contemporary crowd.  There are other people in Scott’s life, including his sister Stacey (Up in the Air’s [review here] Anna Kendrick) and friend Julie Powers (Aubrey Plaza).  But none of these Canadians eking out an existence in Toronto can compare with the kaleidoscopic-haired Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), a fresh arrival from New York.

Scott’s immediate infatuation with Ramona leads him down a troubled path filled with a number of unanticipated obstacles.  Aside from the problem his relationship with Knives poses, he has to contend with the ghosts of Ramona’s past.  In this case, however, they are not ghosts, but simply ex’es.  At various intervals, if Scott wishes to continue a relationship with Ramona, he must fight each ex in a battle.  Each battle is elaborately staged and animated, frenetic and packed with on-screen cues like those one would find in a video game.

Wright knows his contemporary culture, and Scott Pilgrim vs. the World is very much geared toward a young adult audience.  Despite the video game and comic book sensibilities, it is possibly one of the most accurate depictions of modern young adult emotions and emotional baggage.  Scott’s quest for Ramona is not treated like a constant battle for the love of his life, in which Ramona is the prize to be won.  Instead Scott is fighting Ramona’s past, dealing with it in a literal and potentially deadly manner.  Fortunately, he eventually learns the lesson that there are more healthy ways to battle and process past relationships.  Ramona is a surprisingly well-rounded character.  At one point she comments that she likes to live in the moment, reminiscent of the titular character in (500) Days of Summer.  But this attitude has left her with innumerable scars, damage that she will have to heal throughout the rest of her life.

Visually, too, Wright is familiar with today’s young adults.  At times the film is an assault on the senses, with so many layers of graphics that it is difficult to absorb them all simultaneously.  Fans of the film will likely want to seek out a second viewing.  Wright shines particularly with his transitions.  Many of them are so subtle that it is a surprise to learn that the background has changed.  Like Alfred Hitchcock’s Rope, one guesses whether there will be a cut any time someone steps in front of the camera.  One particularly effective instance of his transitory skills is evident right after Scott is smitten by Ramona.  Scott’s lack of attention to time and space is portrayed by swift and hidden cuts in the scene.  Scott magically transitions from bed to the street to the coffee shop with no break in his singular train of thought.

Scott Pilgrim vs. the World does have some problems, some of them in the same vein as the recent Alice in Wonderland [review here].  Both films are visually lush but seem a bit hollow after the screening is over.  Scott Pilgrim vs. the World doesn’t suffer as much, as it has a much more solid emotional core.  The progression of battles is also a bit long, and if we were to divide the film into fifths it would be the fourth fifth that drags the most.  In spite of these problems, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World is a movie that manages to touch the pulse of a great number of today’s young adults, their lives and relationships.  Whether this is right or wrong is a matter for debate, but the film successfully manages to capture a large amount of this generation’s post-teen angst.