| In the twilight of 2004, there are some pretty
good flicks at the multiplex. After a few years where the
year's third film season went from tony to trashy due to an
increased need to place award-worthy flicks closer to the
attention span of washed-up actors and technical Union bosses,
fall became a place to put Ashley Judd vehicles not up to
snuff against summer blockbusters. But while the films out
now are pretty good, ole Jimmy O's mind has been a bit pre-occupied.
After (finally) getting through the Missouri Taxidermy quiz,
I quit my position at the Kansas Toxic Waste Depository in
Emporia to find work in stuffing animals, tanning skins, and
other forms of animal artistry. Taxing to be sure. But this
year has also proven important to our country as well and
I am committed to ushering change. A time when the very fabric
of our democratic tapestry has threatened to un-spool. I have
devoted a disproportionate amount of time to several campaigns
attempting to discredit and neutralize dark forces on the
country's landscape. And I have already been victorious twice:
First, I have unveiled Bill O'Reilly penchant for sexually
harassing Middle Eastern food (a mission that began with my
review of O'Reilly's Those Who Trespass. I called
O'Reilly an angry pervert months before court proceedings
confirmed it. Read it all HERE).
All I had to do was pry some margaritas into one dumb MU journalism
grad and then BAM! You've got yourself a lawsuit with all
the smut and excessive dirtiness of the Starr Report. I also
exposed Ashlee Simpson as a talentless fraud capitalizing
off her sister's career. That was not easy to pull off with
such sparse evidence, but it's amazing the access one gains
by servicing Lorne Michaels with a hand job. And there's this
here election which has got me so stressed out that I have
nightmares about Missouri Secretary of State and Republican
gubernatorial candidate Matt Blunt single-handedly destroying
western civilization. And this time it's not over some sort
of repressed homo imagery but a real concern about the legitimacy
of the election. Mercy! This has left little time to review
any films. So I find myself pulling a half-assed attempt to
properly address some great films out there. Please enjoy.
And go vote. Or Die. Or something like that.
Desperate Zombies: Edgar Wright's
Shaun of the Dead
There is one joke central to the new British comedy Shaun
of the Dead and it takes dead-center aim at not only
the traditional zombie film, but also adding to the recent
cinematic conversation on modern life. The joke is that people
can rise from the dead, stumble around the Earth in a slack-jawed
daze, and no one would hardly notice the difference between
a zombie and a normal urbanite. Normally, a one-joke premise
wears thin over the ninety-minute duration of a film but Edgar
Wright and his talented cast find numerous layers of the concept
to explore. It's a bleak morning in the residential neighborhoods
of London. Shaun (Co-writer Simon Pegg) must deal with the
pissy ramblings of his stiff-lipped roommate Pete (Pete Serafinowicz)
and the slacking aloofness of his old college-buddy/couch-crasher
Ed (Nick Frost). He slips off to the local convenient store
to buy some coffee and smokes. He goes to work at an electronics
store where his age of 29 makes him ten years the senior to
anyone else working there. Shaun really wanted to be a DJ,
but that dream slipped away once college ended and the real
world attempted to take over. Instead of ceding, Shaun slipped
back with Ed to play video games and to drink down at the
Winchester pub. (Incidentally, the Winchester gun is the weapon
of choice in Night of the Living Dead.) Now, he's
a real screw up; unable to reserve a table for the anniversary
dinner he is share with his girlfriend Liz (Kate Ashfield).
The day after Liz breaks up with him, he forgets his mom's
birthday, and his boss doesn't show up to work, Shaun begins
his normal routine all over again. But this time, the streets
are filtered with drooling and brain-hungry zombies. He hardly
notices until a checkout clerk attacks him and Ed in their
garden. The two flat mates fight off the impending zombie
attack with regular household items like a cricket bat and
a garden shovel. Determining that they can't trust the British
media's claims to "stay inside", Shaun and Ed ditch
the infested Pete to save Liz and Shaun's mom. Their plan?
To drive them back to the Winchester and to wait out the event.
You know, kind of how Shaun and Ed have waited out their twenties.
Anyway, matters is complicated by Liz's flat mates, David
(Dylan Moran) and Dianne (Lucy Davis), who complain about
Shaun's plan even as they go along with it. They also meddle
with Liz's new found interest with the take-charge and defiant
Shaun. In the end, good guys prevail and the zombies give
our depraved culture another issue to exploit and to smother.
One must view Chris Martin's cameo playing himself as the
organizer of "Zomb-Aid" or the reality shows that
make zombies compete for big cash prizes. Who else would organize
"Zomb-Aid" if not Chris Martin?
Shaun of the Dead is not a parody of the zombie
film genre, per se. Certainly, it takes digs at these film
through subtle digs through the film like the character's
inabilities to call the undead zombies. This is a clear nod
to filmmakers like George Romero and Tom Savini who actually
never use the "Z" word in any of their films. But,
Shaun keeps a healthy interest with acting like a
legitimate horror film. Shaun refuses to use the
film's gore for slapstick like Sam Raimi or Peter Jackson
and actually remains a technically proficient horror film.
If these films are measured for effectiveness by their "jump"
factor, then I give the film about a five or six. One per
jump. That makes the balance between horror and comedy all
the more impressive. Fans of the film - and specific moments
in Shaun - suggest the film is a direct countenance
to Danny Boyle's 2003 28 Days Later... Where that
film showed an epidemic leading British civilization to an
anarchic state only found in lesser developed countries plagued
by mass epidemic, horrendous civil unrest, or genocide. Shaun
suggests that Western society is at that point and the
zombies are only a reflection of our current apathetic and
mind-numbing state. But that argument fails on a few levels.
First, 28 Days Later... is not technically a zombie
film. All of the undead are simply infected...with RAGE!!!!
More importantly, 28 Days Later... seemed more interested
with the structural response to such an epidemic, with its
third-act indictment of the military-industrial complex. Not
necessarily a subject ripe with humor and one that Shaun
essentially avoids. No, Shaun of the Dead is
more interested in using the British slacker comedy idea and
flopping it into a horror film. On the cusp of the BBC's The
Office's and The Full Monty's success in the
United States, we have become consciously aware of the Motherland's
complex with cubicle living and blue-collar hi jinks that
seemed as the eminent domain of the Yanks. But even with America's
obsession with the horror film, no filmmaker has thought to
take the slacker or the office drone and make them walk side-by-side
with the undead. Now, this seems like very obvious symbolism.
The comedy of the film closely follows this theme, by keeping
banal conversations mixed with the zombie-slaying. There's
a very Seinfeld-ian piece of continuing dialogue
about a dog's ability to look up. And watching a pool-cue
attack staged to a Queen song is pretty damned funny. In addition,
Pegg and Wright go to great measures to create Shaun as a
very intriguing hero. Shaun's a man comfortable with his slacking
ways but always yearning for more. A man who truly loves him
mum, his girlfriend, and his old chap. And a man who can rise
to the challenge, evolve as a character, and kick some serious
zombie ass. Bloody wicked stuff.
Playing in Poetry, Living in Prose:
Peter Berg's Friday Night Lights
In the traditional football film, the game is a metaphorical
battle for life and death. The players, the coaches, the groupies,
and the fans exist for nothing more than the season’s
end when they can relish in inevitable victory. But the collective
lives and deaths of these characters end at the exact point
where the film ends: At the final game. The fate of these
souls rest in the cup of a championship trophy with nothing
considered beyond. In the end, that’s why most movies
about football (or sports films in general) aren’t very
good. The only metaphor left for the game to represent is
the end of the film and the end of the audience’s concern
for transpired events. The “football is life”
mantra, alas, is just another cliche to stack against the
self-destructive running back and the virginal-slut cheerleader.
Peter Berg's Friday Night Lights - an adaptation
of H.G. "Buzz" Bissinger's novel - documents the
tumultuous 1988 season of Odessa TX's Permian High Panther's
football team. This is a true story where football - for the
characters - really IS a matter of life and death. And not
just for the players who pin the hope and dream of a prosperous
life outside of Odessa on the events that transpire on the
field. College scholarships, money, fame, and girls are always
the traditional trappings; as they are in this film. But this
is also about keeping an elderly family member out of the
nursing home or hoping that success lifts a father out of
alcoholism. These are tragic circumstances for these West
Texas high schoolers and made even more dire by the fact that
a successful football season is the only probable solution.
But it's also about the football fans who flock to the ultra-slick
stadium every weekend to escape their lives crippled by a
depressed oil industry that dominates the town. Friday
Night Lights takes the concept of a traditional football
film and creates a sad yet insightful film about the sport
and the emotion it instills into the participants and the
spectator. On top of all this, the characters get a glimpse
of their potential fates by the ghosts of previous championship
teams floating around. It's as though Odessa exists as a purgatory
for foolish hope and lost opportunity. Weighty stuff for a
football movie plunked down in theatres during pigskin season.
But director Berg, Billy Bob Thornton, and a talented cast
of players make this more of a morality play than standard
sports flick.
The real Odessa, TX isn't necessarily the depressing small
town portrayed in Friday Night Lights. But the film
captures the general overall emotional feeling of a town like
Odessa. Scorching summer days, gloomy rainstorms, and blazing
stadium lights are the only visual relief from a maudlin line
of dilapidated. Coach Gary Gaines (Thornton, channeling his
abusive father/basketball coach in this role) is very good
at his job. This does not indicate that he likes the job very
much. "Don't believe in sports curses," he advises
a young player before a pivotal moment in the season. "Winning
and losing feels about the same. It just looks different on
the outside." Not necessarily the most inspiring thing
to tell a 17-year-old, but telling of his character all the
same. Gaines much coach and mold this team comprised of West
Texan cowboys and African-American working class with the
pressures of delivering an undefeated season and the egos
that are involved with such a program. Boobie Miles (Derek
Luke) eyes big scholarships to some impressive universities
with the riches that entail before his season and life are
side-swiped by an injury. Don Billingsly (Garrett Hedlund)
just wants to escape the pressure imposed by his father (Tim
McGraw, in an acting debut that must juggle pathos and sadness).
All the same, the game of football offers an evening of hope
for all of them. When they take the field, there's a hope
that this game is their ticket out. And for some, it is. But
the town - the previous champions the legions of fans who
blather on sports radio about the glory of previous seasons
- let the audience know that many of the characters will remain
in Odessa, state championship or not. And the measure of their
success is not by winning the game, but how they take the
win or the loss. This is how they treat their families. This
is how they are as friends. This is certainly a bitter pill
for an audience to swallow, especially watching a sports film
that always promises optimism and excitement. But Berg isn't
interested in a nice and neat football film. He wants to make
us grunt and sweat along with these characters. He feels their
pain and we feel it as well. The Friday Night Lights get
pretty bright. Can you take the heat?
So This isn't About Arkansas' Governor?:
David O. Russell's I Love Huckabees
The whole philosophy of explaining existence seems rather
silly; like a dog chasing its own tail. We exist, so what
other questions could remain? This is the central thesis of
David O. Russell's "existential comedy" I Love
Huckabees. The film is a screwball comedy involving characters
so preoccupied with questions about the meaning of life that
they are barely able to live it. Bernard and Vivian Jaffe
(Dustin Hoffman and Lilly Tomlin) operate a detective agency
designed to answer the "big questions" about people's
lives through a mixture of surveillance and academic theory.
Like most detectives, their business thrives off the insecurity
and self-doubt of their clients. Who are their clients and
what are the possible connections they have with one another?
There's Albert (Jason Schwartzman), an environmentalist who
runs the Open Space Coalition that is distracted by the "coincidental"
run-ins he has with a Sudanese doorman but may actually be
more distressed by the way Huckabee's corporate shill Brad
Stand (Jude Law) convinced him that his company was really
interested in the environment. You see, Huckabee's is that
large, Target-type store looking to develop a market in every
part of the country, including a lovely piece of marsh being
protected by Open Spaces. Brad also has issues with his existence,
although it's tough to discern if these concerns are real
or mainly postured to improve Brad's image. Brad's existential
dread may be tied directly to his girlfriend Dawn Campbell
(Naomi Watts), super model and the "voice and face"
of the Huckabee's store. She is also insecure about her looks
being the only reason she has a job, and breaks down by wearing
sweats and an Amish bonnet. The Jaffes add client Tommy Corn
(Mark Wahlberg) to the mix. Corn is a blue-collar fireman
messed up since that "September thing" preoccupied
with petroleum oil ruining the Earth and with philosophical
literature. So preoccupied that he rides a bike to fire calls
and gets ran out of his house. The Jaffes team him up with
Albert and therefore, he enters the lives of Brad and Dawn.
This seemingly flies in the face of the Jaffe's theory of
life existing on its own with little interference. But that
is the least of the flaws discovered in the Jaffe's practice.
Further complicating matters is the Caterine Vauban (Isabelle
Huppert), the Jaffe's French counterpart who takes a totally
different take on existence. Where the Jaffe's see everything
tied together, Caternie believes that the world is "meaningless
and filled with nothing". Certainly a different perspective
from what has been offered in the film up to this point, and
causes more concern among the characters. In the end, the
characters and the plot have spiraled so far from ordinary
that both philosophical perspectives are somewhat dismissed
and everyone realizes that the truth is somewhere in the middle.
If the truth is there at all.
I Love Huckabees takes on some pretty deep and complicated
subject material. But since Russell sees the entire premise
of both philosophical studies as an enormous farce, he's given
the chance to explain what he's talking about, make fun of
it, and debunk it. This may seem juvenile and destructive
to high-minded intellects, but they're the brunt of Russell's
screw-ball antics anyway. I mean, just look at Dustin Hoffman's
hair in this film. That bowl-cut screams pretentious college
professor. Specifically, I use the phrase "screw-ball"
to describe these absurd characters in these absurd situations.
Yet, for all the humor that involved with the proceedings
- Wahlberg's anti-sprawl rant, the character development arising
from Law's constant reference to Shania Twain - the issues
resonate. Existence is a subject that hits us at desperate
moments of our life span or family development. And while
some have criticized I Love Huckabees for not fully
developing the characters, I feel that argument misses the
point. The detectives all represent philosophical inclinations
that clash. The characters represent twenty-something angst
that spans various social and cultural areas. Albert is the
whiny liberal distressed about his purpose. Tommy is the blue-collar
guy misunderstood by everyone around him. Dawn has issues
with body images and style. And Brad is a corporate, conservative
guy stewing under the surface. The Jaffes and Vauban clash
with their very different views on the nature of reality.
These characters are supposed to represent ideas and posturing,
and Russell has a grand time watching all of them conflict,
grind, and ultimately self-destruct. The actors know they're
playing arch-types and make hilarious hay out of the material.
And the material is deep and dark and dense. But I Love
Huckabees pulls off a miracle by presenting the material
as funny and light. It's not for everyone, but it may just
be for everything.
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