Review: Up in the Air (2009)

24 01 2010

At some point in the cinematic doldrums of late summer last year, stuck between a trailer for Jennifer’s Body and Gamer, I came across a preview for Up in the Air. Like a breath of fresh air, I found myself repeatedly returning to this trailer over the proceeding months believing that finally, “here is a film for someone like me.” Dramatic, but not overly so, with a touch of humor, and well-written dialogue that is smartly delivered; and, with fingers crossed, a deliciously satisfying happy ending (after all, the film’s director is Jason Reitman . . . aka Mr. Juno). Imagine my enthusiasm when I heard that Paramount moved up the distribution date for the film by two days . . . talk about a Merry Christmas!

After months of anticipation, I saw Up in the Air on Christmas Eve; and alas, there was very little merry about it. First off, no happy ending (no real ending at all, now that I reflect on it). Second, literally (and I’m not exaggerating here) every humorous line in the film made it into the trailer. Sure, I found some smart dialogue, but I could have saved my money and watched the trailer ad infinitum to the same effect. Yes, George Clooney was as winsome as ever and the supporting cast (namely Anna Kendrick and J.K. Simmons) gave compelling performances, but the film is a flat line. Clooney’s character, Ryan Bingham, may live his life up in the air (both literally and metaphorically), but his story arc fails to get off the ground. Don’t get me wrong, Bingham is pleasant enough and has a decent heart, but by story’s end we recognize that real life change has not occurred.

Of course, you may argue that the film’s ending leaves matters open to interpretation and I have obviously selected a more negative viewpoint of what Bingham will do next. Fair enough, but remember I went looking for a happy ending and the fact that someone with my propensity couldn’t see it makes me all the more suspicious of anyone else who does. Bingham may have allowed a small rekindling of hope with Alex (Vera Farmiga), but when she closes the door to return to her married life, we are shown little else to stay the belief that so too the entry to Bingham’s heart closed. I appreciate Reitman’s attempt to empower the viewer to “choose your own adventure” and to take the next step in life, but Bingham’s flat storyline does not have enough substance to bear-up such an elevated undertaking.

My fellow film critics want to make this a film about “moving on” in an age of recession-era joblessness. I appreciate their attempts to add some depth to a film filled with far more ideological departures than arrivals. Certainly, Up in the Air is filled with more than hot air, but it fails to hit the heights claimed by some. In Good Company covers similar ground as this film, but does so with far more humor and grace. I recommend grounding Up in the Air and picking up In Good Company instead.





Review: Okuribito (Departures) (2008)

23 01 2010

Departures rightly deserves the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film. In recent memory, I cannot recall a film that so adeptly portrays the dignity due to the dead and the respect due to the living. Departures tells the story of a young man, Daigo (superbly acted by Masahiro Motoki who conveys tomes with his face alone), who gives up his dream of playing the cello professionally and finds true artistry, and humanity, working as a Nokanshi – one who prepares bodies for burial.

Striking an appropriate harmony between humor and honor, the story infuses death (and life) with a meaning and significance often missing in Western films. Moreover, we find ourselves engrossed in this story not simply because it is so different from our own, but because in it we inherently recognize that here too is our story. We all are certainly more than mere mortals; yet, death shall come. Departures helps us find peace with our mortality and get about the business of living.

Along with its compelling story, this film has an amazing musical score by the John Williams of the east, Joe Hisaishi (who also composed the music for Spirited Away). The cello theme throughout strikes a beautiful accord with the movements of the protagonist on screen. In addition to the stellar soundtrack, the lensing is phenomenal especially during the burial preparation scenes (of course, it doesn’t hurt that the ceremony itself is beautiful). I admire the director’s choice of shooting most of the action in homely spaces because, as we find, the beauty of death is that it’s not separate from normal life but another natural part of that reality.

My only gripe with the film, and it’s a minor one, is the decision to shoot Diago playing the cello out in middle of nature . . . while it makes for great DVD cover art, it seemed out of place. Of course, the fact that he is playing on a narrow raised plain might represent that he, through his art (be that music or Nokanshi), is ushering the dead from one land to the next. Still, I think the symbolism too far afield from the story at hand.

If you have a propensity to avoid foreign films due to subtitles, or because they are so, um, foreign, I implore you not to miss Departures. Rare cinematic gems like this come along so infrequently. I guarantee you that even at 130 minutes, you will watch this film to the very end and you will be richer for having done so.





Review: Buddy (2003)

18 01 2010

In Blake Snyder‘s book “Save the Cat!: The Last Book on Screenwriting You’ll Ever Need,” he notes how when a character in a film saves a cat or undertakes some other likeable deed, we as the audience are more apt to root for the character and be invested in the film. While dog lovers may beg to differ, I think Mr. Snyder is on to something here. Case in point–Buddy. Here is a film that succeeds to the degree we like the main characters. And we do like them . . . a lot.

Take the character of Kristoffer (played wonderfully by Nicolai Cleve Broch) who is in many ways a self-centered, self-absorbed prat. Yet, with a surprise birthday party for buddy Stig Inge or a slight nudge of his best friend Geir toward embracing fatherhood, we see someone who has a sincere heart even if he gets it wrong now and then. We can forgive the slip-ups because in the savings of the cats, we see someone who at least wants to want to be a great friend.

While Buddy is a Norwegian film, this story about three friends learning to be just that has universal appeal. Certainly, the film has its predictable moments, the cinematography bores, the soundtrack limps along, and the set decoration does little to inspire. A cinematic masterwork it is not; yet, Buddy does engage. I desired nothing more than to watch it to the very end and nowadays that’s saying a lot.

Truthfully, I think we love TV sitcoms, reality shows, vampire novels, and books about teenage wizards because we like characters. We would watch people dig up worms in the mud pits of Maine, if we liked the folks doing the digging. Of course, most of us like our villains and bad guys too, but ask us who’d we prefer to hang out with next weekend and 99.9% of us would pick the Buddy saving the cat.





Review: Trucker (2008)

17 01 2010

Screenwriting seems fraught with challenges and knotty realities. I’ve grown to appreciate this more in recent days as I’ve made my own meager attempts at undertaking this craft. One particular challenge, it seems, is the ability to write something realistically, or at least truthfully, so that it seems natural, organic, and true to life. So much screenwriting today seems formulaic as if the writer was merely attempting to connect dots to move characters from here to there with little actual concern for what the character would, in fact, do or say at any given moment. Now, on one hand, it’s ridiculous to assert that a fictional character could do or say anything without the writer writing it that way. While practically this is true enough, you feel differently on this point when a character does something that serves the screenwriter in moving the story along, but in your mind you think, “Really? . . . Would he really do that?”

I say all of this in preface to my review of Trucker to highlight why I think it a unique film. Certainly, the storyline itself isn’t particularly revelatory (i.e., purposefully distant parent is forced to reexamine her heart and attitudes when long-lost child is thrust back into her life); yet screenwriter James Mottern has crafted his story in such a way that the characters (especially reluctant mother Diane Ford played by Michelle Monaghan) do, say, and exist as real people do, say, and exist. Mr. Mottern gives his characters space and freedom to make choices, stumble about, and find (or lose) their way.

Does this mean that, finally, here is a film that lacked predictability? Yes, I think it did as far as the individual choices the characters made from one point to the next are concerned. I found myself continually intrigued by decisions or statements made by the characters (likely because they were, at least outwardly, quite the opposite of what I would do or say). Yet, I always knew where the story was headed. At first this frustrated me because I felt I had “seen it all before.” And while it’s true that the plot covers well-traveled cinematic ground, I couldn’t shake my curiosity over the small moments in the journey. I give much credit to Michelle Monaghan who embodies an amazing blend of confidence, brokenness, and desperate need. This film succeeds because she bears her soul scene after scene, but covers it brilliantly with a thin coat of truck grease attitude.

Trucker may have adequate lensing, an uninspired soundtrack, and a predictable over-arching plot, but if you enjoy character studies or simply real people being, um . . . real, then you may want to hitch a ride with this film. At the very least, Michelle Monaghan’s performance deserves to be seen. I also suspect that along the way you’ll find a bit of yourself in the corners of these characters’ lives and you may just be touched.








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