Okay, the working vacation is over. I’ve got all sorts of catching up to do, and the first thing I should do is post quick reviews of three films that came out last weekend, one in very limited release, that are all worth your time to some degree.
First up is Judd Apatow’s KNOCKED UP, and we’ve certainly devoted a fair amount of server space to this one over the past year. For me, seeing the final release print after we screened a half-hour-longer cut at BNAT in December was confirmation that Judd Apatow is some sort of evil magician. He managed to shave 30 minutes of film without losing anything. He kept all the great digressions and the subplots and the supporting cast that made my first viewing so much fun. Amazing work.
Seeing it again, I’m struck by a few things. First, Seth Rogen’s a fucking movie star, and I’ll fight you if you say different. He’s Albert Brooks, but without that prickly quality that has always made Albert a cult phenomenon. There’s a great everyman quality to Seth, and I’m not just talking about the fact that he doesn’t look like George Clooney. Seth is real-world funny, not over-rehearsed movie funny. The reason that Apatow’s two films so far are so inviting is because you get the feeling that these are real people, and you end up drawn into these situations because people actually behave like this. When was the last time you saw something that could even vaguely be defined as a “romantic comedy” that didn’t hinge on some elaborate lie or some I LOVE LUCY-style scheme? You think horror films are predictable these days? Please. Romantic comedies are vile things, heartless and phony and full of people who don’t deserve happiness doing awful things to obtain a manufactured happy ending that sends detestable messages to the audiences that soak these Valentine’s Day cards up. Apatow’s made two films in a row now that deal with love and that are funny, but they’re as atypical of the genre as BROADCAST NEWS was. Apatow writes flawed people, and in those flaws, he finds his humor and he also defines his heart. Ben Stone is a good guy. He really is. There’s a moment where he and Allison (Katherine Heigl) are about to make out, and she stops him. “Don’t fuck me over,” she says.
“I won’t," he says. "I’m the guy who girls fuck over.” Ben’s got no game whatsoever, and as a result, there are no games played. This may be a film about accepting responsibility and the pressures that impending parenthood may cause, but to the credit of both characters, it’s not about trying to slip out of those responsibilities... it’s about deciding if you are person enough to accept them. Look, I’ve been lucky in life as far as timing goes. I had my son at the right moment. I’m emotionally ready, I’m in a great relationship with the right woman, and the past two years have been fantastic. This is what we wanted. And I’m willing to admit... you take the same situation and subtract ten years... or, hell, even subtract five years... and I’m not sure I would have been anywhere near as ready as I am now. I’m not sure how well I would have done through a pregnancy with the women I was with at those times, and I’m not sure what I would have done professionally. I think blind panic would have been the biggest part of every day, and for Apatow to be true to all of that and still make it funny and make you believe in Ben... that’s not easy. I think Apatow’s taken a step forward as a writer and as a director here. I hope he continues to hone what he does. I hope he pushes himself further in that search for honesty over the joke, because when he does, the best moments end up doing both things well. The more real the film gets, the funnier it is.
A great example of that, for me, is the trip to Vegas. You could make this film and you could leave out the trip to Vegas easily. It wouldn’t be a lesser film. You could find some other way for Pete (Paul Rudd) and Ben to have their moment of bonding where they discuss the ways they’ve messed up with their women. But Apatow does a lot of things in that sequence, juggling all these ideas. He starts with a great example of how guys really do react when they’re hurt. They don’t lay around and mope about it. At least, I don’t, and my friends are the same way. Instead, you do something outsized. You react. You do something crazy. And if you’re in LA, driving to Vegas and doing mushrooms... well, let’s just say I can completely understand the impulse. Oblivion. Manic oblivion. Sounds like just the ticket. After my worst break-up, I certainly had moments like that.
But what starts as a joke and a blast and fun turns sort of crazy when Cirque Du Soleil stops being fun, and by the time Pete and Ben are upstairs, weary, waiting for the drugs to wear off already, they start talking about things that neither one of them would have been able to say sober or in LA, things that they both need to say. And they’re at two totally different places in their relationships. Ben looks at Pete, and he sees the future. He sees one way things could play out. He sees a sort of half-happiness. I don’t believe that Pete and Debbie (Leslie Mann) are a bad couple, or even an unusual couple. They have some pretty remarkable fights in the film, and Debbie can be blunt to the point of attempted murder, but I still see a lot of great moments between them in the film, too. Their marriage feels like something that’s been lived in for a while, where there are definite stress points, but where there’s an ongoing attempt, where efforts are being made. There are subtle allusions to past marriage counseling, and I can see the little ways they work to deal with differences. When Pete is talking to Ben and says that the biggest problem between him and his wife is that she loves him and wants to be with him... well, let’s just say I can understand that, too. I’m a writer. I’ve always enjoyed alone time. Solitude. The ability to tune the world out and just focus on that blank page and the things I need to do to fill it. And as you add members to a family... a wife, and then a child... suddenly you find yourself with a lot less of that alone time, and your attempts to make that time for yourself can cause friction, even if there’s no malice meant. I think part of the process of being married is finding the ways you fit together, and the ways you give each other space, and this film gets that right. Ben sees everything that is difficult in Pete’s marriage, everything that is painful and stressful and infuriating... and he still makes the choice to step up and take on all of that himself. It’s a knowing film, steeped in life experience, and Apatow’s world view is what makes Ben so appealing, what makes the whole movie so appealing. I think Apatow believes that marriage is hard work, and that it’s worthwhile hard work. Nothing in either of his films promises that happy endings are easy things, but I think his films make the case for taking the good and the bad together. And if that’s not what Hollywood calls romance... well, good for Apatow. Who needs the flashbang of movie romance when you can have the sweet and sour of real love?
I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the soundtrack to the film, which wasn’t ready when I saw the workprint back in December. Loudon Wainwright III, who I know first as an actor (thanks to his work in Apatow’s series UNDECLARED), has been making music for a long time. When I was watching the first season box set for SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE recently, there was a musical performance there of his that just knocked me out. He’s like a blatantly funny Paul Simon. And on his new album, STRANGE WEIRDOS, he’s matured like wine. These songs definitely relate to Allison and Ben and Pete and Debbie, but more than that, they’re songs about Apatow and Wainwright and anyone who has ever stepped up into the role of parenthood. They’re songs about living in LA right now, certainly, but they’re more universal than that. The joy of something like “Daughter” or “X Or Y” is a perfect complement to the melancholy of “Strange Weirdos” or “Valley Morning.” This is that rare album of songs “from and inspired by” a film that actually works completely independently. You don’t need to see a frame of the film to enjoy this as an album, and in the movie, much of this exists only in instrumental film, so it’s not like the experiences are interchangeable. Wainwright was just so moved by the film and what it had to say, and he’s had such a complicated and contentious history as a parent in his own right, that this is less of a soundtrack and more of an equal artistic reaction, and along with ONCE, it’s one of only two new soundtracks so far this year to get dropped into heavy rotation here at the Labs.
Last Friday also saw the release of MR. BROOKS, and I decided to avoid reading any reviews at all until I’d had a chance to write about it. I have no idea if the film is beloved or reviled, but neither one would surprise me. I don’t think it’s a perfect film, and I wouldn’t call it a particularly great film, but damn if I didn’t have a good time watching it unfold. Bruce A. Evans directed from a script he wrote with longtime co-writer Raynold Gideon, and it’s a fairly clever spin on the serial killer genre, adult-minded and interesting. Even so, I wouldn’t really be able to recommend it if not for the work of Kevin Costner in the lead, as well as the important supporting work done by William Hurt. I think Costner gets a bum rap, and I like his career, by and large. This is a significant twist by him in his ongoing effort to defy any expectations anyone has for him, and it works. He’s freaky and funny and does a lot of things we’ve never seen him do before.
And, yeah... the film is funny. It’s a fairly jet black comedy. It’s a game of one-upsmanship between Earl Brooks (Costner) and everyone else in the world. He has a secret need, a call that he gets from time to time, and it manifests in the form of Marshall (William Hurt), that little voice in his ear, the devil on his shoulder made flesh. It’s a pretty outrageous conceit, and if Hurt and Costner didn’t know exactly what they were doing, it wouldn’t work. For my tastes, they get it right, and the precision of their work together as a man and his absolutely off-center moral compass is a kick to watch. There are elements of the film that I don’t think work, particularly... I’m not sure I really buy Demi Moore’s character. But the game that Mr. Brooks plays with her is fun, and the payoff is worth some of the implausibility along the way.
The basic plot is that Mr. Brooks kills people, and he is very, very careful when he does so. He’s managed to build a lovely life with his wife Emma (Marg Helgenberger) and his daughter Jane (Danielle Panabaker), and he’s respected and even loved in his community. He’s just got this pesky itch to occasionally kill people. On one particular night out, he is seen and photographed by a guy in the next building, played by Dane Cook. The guy approaches him with the photos, and instead of blackmailing him for money, he blackmails him for experience. He wants to go with Mr. Brooks the next time he goes out. He wants to kill somebody. It’s a neat trap, and the fun of the film is watching Brooks try to figure his way out of it. There’s another plot working at the same time about Jane, his college-age daughter, and then another one about the detective who is chasing him, played by Moore. That’s a lot to juggle, and I think the combination of oddball casting (Cook just doesn’t have the weight for his role, although he gives pretty good sleaze, and Moore just doesn’t strike me as a seasoned brilliant detective, no matter how hard she growls with that whiskey voice of hers) and the overbusy script is what keeps it from being a totally satisfying game a la THE USUAL SUSPECTS. Even so, MR. BROOKS is sleek and well-made, and Gideon and Evans (who wrote STARMAN and STAND BY ME) have offered up an interesting alternative to those already burned out by this summer’s blitzkrieg of sequels. It’s not a conventional kick by any means, but there’s enough substance to make it worth a recommendation.
And if MR. BROOKS is a case of a film where I think it’s not really for every taste, then PAPRIKA is a rarer thing indeed. This is not “just another anime film” by any means. PAPRIKA is a wild next step for Satoshi Kon, one of the most unique voices working in world animation today. He has resolutely avoided making the same film twice so far, and his career is unlike anyone’s working in animation or live-action as a result. PERFECT BLUE was a slasher film, basically, a psychological horror film about a pop star being stalked by someone. MILLENNIUM ACTRESS is a sweet, sweeping story of an actress whose life story is told as a way of tracing the evolution of the Japanese film industry. TOKYO GODFATHERS is a reworking of the classic John Wayne film THREE GODFATHERS, a tale of three unlikely men trying to save the life of an orphaned child as they find themselves improbably falling in love with it. With his TV series PARANOIA AGENT, Kon seemed to explode all genre walls, and he continues that effort with PAPRIKA, a movie about the thin line between dreams and reality, and what would happen to our world if that line were able to be erased completely. It’s heady stuff, and there are times where it sort of spins deliriously out of control, where it stops being merely surreal and becomes something like a fever dream, unfettered and effortlessly amazing. In those moments, I feel like this filmmaker is showing us exactly why 99% of all American animation... no, scratch that... why 99% of all animation anywhere... is such garbage. Right now, we use this medium (and it’s not a genre, oh, no; it’s something so much more than that) to tell children’s stories. That’s pretty much it. We are retarded in the truest sense of the word. Instead of seeing animation as a way of bringing to life that which no live-action film, no matter what the budget, could ever hope to do, we seem to see it as an excuse to sell Happy Meals and make fart jokes while pop songs play. It’s like if we had decided early on that we could only use live-action films to tell mystery stories. And no matter what, no matter how advanced the artistry became, we insisted on only telling mystery stories, and anyone who did anything different was marginalized. Satoshi Kon is a true believer in the freedom of animation, and Madhouse, the animation house he used on this film, seems to rise to the level of ambition that he’s thrown down with his script. If I have any complain, it’s that the film seems repetitive in the last half-hour, and it doubles back in on itself a few too many times.
Even so, it’s the sort of film that you absolutely should see on as big a screen as possible. It’s a sumptuous theatrical experience, with a great score by Susumu Hirasawa. It’s also a surprisingly dense film considering it’s only 90 minutes long. I found myself sort of exhausted by how much ground it covered in its brief running time. And if you’ve followed Satoshi Kon’s career, you know that although he’s skipped from one genre to another, he’s always had a bit of a fetish for dreaming, so this is sort of the culmination of what he’s been saying so far in his movies. Sony Pictures Classics will be rolling this one out in the weeks ahead, and it’s one of the most original things you’ll see in a theater all summer. If you don’t have patience for films that not only bend reality but gleefully dynamite it, then this one’s not for you, but I look forward to whatever Satoshi Kon does, and this did not disappoint in any way.
I’ll be back with lots more catching up before the weekend, and then I’ve got a mountain of material to get through next week. Hang on... should be fun.
Drew McWeeny, Los Angeles
Drew McWeeny, Los Angeles
