Top Ten Science-Fiction Favorites

I greatly enjoy science-fiction fare, although it's lately becoming more a reflection of action and less of wonder.

When I compile these lists, I start out by enumerating my favorite 20 to 25 selections (in no particular order) then whittle it down to a top ten.  It's shocking once I'm done to peruse the entries in the 11 to 20 slots.  So many great films make up this category.  Not all can make the list.

As with any compilation, there are personal favorites of mine that others have a hard time grasping ("2001: A Space Odyssey") just as there are those others love that I have a hard time grasping ("Brazil").  The subjectivity of top ten lists are what make them fun.

Some real surprises just missed the list.  Not one of the "Terminator" movies made the top ten cut.  Neither did any of the "Matrix" films, even though I enjoyed them greatly.  Perhaps part of the reason is that they appealed more to my action-movie-loving side than my sense of wonder.  In science-fiction, the fascinating always scores higher than the action-packed. 

This doesn't, however, explain why no "Star Trek" movies made it onto the list.  I can't really put my finger on why.  I enjoyed the original Star Trek television series, though I never accrued enough knowledge to be considered a "trekkie."  (Or is it "trekker?")  For some reason, though, none of the movies in the series resonated with me quite enough to break into the top ten.

So what does that leave?  Well, here it is... my list of top ten science-fiction movies.

#10  --  "Contact"
"Contact" tantalizes the viewer with wondrous possibility without forcing an ostentatious visual payoff.  It considers its premise carefully... how things might actually play out in the face of an unprecedented scientific discovery.  If the anticipated introduction to the alien species seems a tad anti-climactic, perhaps that's inevitable.  The film revels more in possibility than a routine visual payoff.

# 9  --  "Gattaca"
It's a tragedy that so few people saw Andrew Niccol's debut.  Intelligent sci-fi thrillers that place ideas on a higher pedestal than special effects are becoming a rare breed.  "Gattaca" is a thought-provoking thriller involving the advancements in genetic engineering.  We're inching closer to losing the "fiction" in science fiction regarding this premise. 

# 8  --  "Alien"
This is the only real horror/science-fiction entry onto the list.  Scary as hell.  Jarred me as much as "The Exorcist."  The movie is patient in building the tension, then relentless in unleashing the terror.  It takes its time.  The film inspired the terrific James Cameron sequel "Aliens" though Cameron did have the added benefit of a perfect cinematic blueprint left by director Ridley Scott.

 # 7  --  "Close Encounters of the Third Kind"
What makes Spielberg's  epic so powerful is the notion that the unexplained would be enough to drive men mad.  Nowadays alien contact seems a mere inconvenience.  The characters here are hypnotically drawn from their normal lives by the mind-blowing possibility of extraterrestrial life.  Decades later in films like "Independence Day," Will Smith exits his house, looks up at a UFO.  "Huh.  Weird."

 # 6  --  "Star Wars: Episode IV - A New Hope"
Ah, the Space Opera.  I love it.  This movie was the one that got me interested in films in the first place.  Yeah, I know... it's only number six on the list.  Other science fiction films did leapfrog it, but there's a nostalgia attached to this one that will live forever.  My experience of seeing it for the first time has been indelibly imprinted on my brain.

# 5  --  "Star Wars: Episode V - The Empire Strikes Back"
I didn't want to include multiple entries from one film series onto the list.  I just couldn't help it here.  This film should be required viewing for any director about to embark on a movie sequel.  These days, there are no true sequels anymore; just imitations of the original disguised as sequels.  This is a true sequel, constantly reinventing itself, taking the viewer into unexpected directions.

# 4  --  "Inception"
Perversely brilliant filmmaking.  A lot of films try passing themselves off as original, but usually fall back on cliched elements to placate their perceived demographic.  Not so here.  The genius isn't the premise itself, but how rich in detail it is.  Successful films invite imitations, but I don't know if that's possible here.  Christopher Nolan may very well have, as Roger Ebert put it: "thrown away the map."

# 3  --  "Metropolis"
Fritz Lang's master artwork was originally released in 1926, but has been restored and was released on DVD in 2010.  The movie depicts a city of two halves: the pampered and privileged citizens on the surface and slave workers deep in the depths.  The film's visual style has served as inspiration for a multitude of science-fiction endeavors in the time since its initial release.  So much of what I grew up on was inspired by "Metropolis."

# 2  --  "Dark City"

One such example of inspiration drawn from Fritz Lang is Alex Proyas' "Dark City."  One of the most mesmerizing production designs I've ever seen.  A feast for an imagination starved for new and arresting imagery.  And for once, the visuals exist at the service of a story that is actually quite intense and involving.  The aliens possess an ability to alter physical reality, making the world up as they go along.  The film does something similar.

# 1  --  "2001: A Space Odyssey"
A lot of people have a problem with Kubrick's masterwork.  I love it.  Most people I talk to consider it slow.  Boring.  The tragedy here is that the film is strictly a product of its time.  Space exploration in 1968 (the film's release year) held much greater fascination and intrigue than it does now.  The film has an appeal that, I fear, cannot be recovered for today's moviegoers.  Boring?  If a sense of wonder is a lead-in to boredom, then I truly pity the bored. 

True, science-fiction films aren't the same as they were.  I've come to accept this.  I'm just grateful we have access to a treasure trove of nostalgic sci-fi brilliance from which we can draw inspiration, wonder, and joy.  

"Punch" a Testament to Feminism? Not Quite.

The Danger of Reading Too Much Into a Movie

While on Facebook the other day, I came across a link to an article written by entertainment insider and budding feminist Angie Han. It involved the movie "Sucker Punch" and went into extreme detail pointing out that when you stop to think about it, the film isn't a true testament to female empowerment.

First, she's absolutely right. And second, to quote America's favorite recently-crowned Twitter King... "Duh!"

Of course "Sucker Punch" isn't a testament to feminism. Are you kidding me? The movie expends more effort shedding the heroines' clothing than revealing their thoughts. Only a moron would think these characters are a fair representation of the feminist movement.

As an uncle to a ten-year-old girl, female empowerment is very important to me. (I am reassured by the fact the my niece has an incredible mother. My sister is doing a stellar job as a parent. I'm truly in awe of her.) Feminism is an important fight. I just think it needs to be aimed in the best direction to facilitate change.

I've read Han's articles in the past. I like her. She's not in the class of Huffington, Quindlen, or Wolf, but she's a strong voice for the future. The only thing that troubles me about this particular article is that it's a textbook example of tilting at windmills.

I actually did give the movie the most marginal of recommendations based on its visual style alone. I'm not brimming with pride over my decision, but reactions are what they are. (I also gave "Drive Angry" a tepid recommendation. Try to figure that one out.) But at no point while viewing the film did I ever stop and think that it was a statement on the feminist movement. It's trash filmmaking aimed solely for teenage boys with a love for video games and scantily-clad heroines. Maybe I'm giving the moviegoing public too much credit, but I highly doubt every person paying admission honestly thinks this is about feminism.

Plus, I promise you the studio and the filmmakers don't see it as such, either. Now, Han points out in her article that director Zack Snyder was quoted as saying it involves female empowerment. What she conveniently leaves out is that Snyder made the comment in the midst of a promotional tour. What was he gonna say? "Uh... yeah, it exploits women but I think girls should see it anyway." So his comment really means nothing. The fact is, the only people who keep injecting this particular brand of movie garbage into serious feminist debate are the bloggers.

Sometimes it's better to leave trash in the bin.

At another point in Han's article, the sentiment is expressed that denouncing feminists' protests by claiming the movie "is only a movie" is a cop out. This is true, but constantly inviting cinematic garbage back to the discussion table fuels the movie with credibility it doesn't deserve. If the moviegoing public, the filmmakers, and the studio can see the film for the disposable money-grab trash that it is, why can't bloggers? They're building up their own enemy. (Those gosh-darn windmills!)

You have to understand, I'm not saying abandon the fight. Just re-direct it. You want something to be offended by? Try this one on for size...

Just in time for summer, a new padded bikini top designed strictly for girls as young as eight is hitting the store shelves. Now, that's something that ought to ignite your fury. And more importantly, it's something that deserves to ignite it. The thought of a product like that aimed toward that age group unsettles me.

Look, I get your anger at the portrayal of women in movies like "Sucker Punch" and "Lara Croft." But these movies manage to circumvent the feminist debate by catering not to girls, but to a male youth demographic that won't dissipate no matter how loud you scream. Fighting involves more than unfettered brawn or stentorian protests. It involves knowing where to direct the fight as much as the intensity embedded in the battle itself.

Attacking movies like these may seem like the best approach, but it's actually tantamount to believing that the only way feminism can advance is by educating men. There are many feminists who believe this. But to think this demonstrates a lack of understanding of the word "empowerment. " Empowerment is a very personal thing. Organic in nature. It needs to be imbued, cultivated, and encouraged in the minds of our girls, not beaten over the heads of boys who are unfortunately turned on by images women would like to turn off. (Though I do understand the desire toward the beat down.)

If you can empower a young girl to respect herself without condition, then those in her immediate circle will have no choice but to honor that respect. ("Nobody can make you feel inferior without your permission." Eleanor Roosevelt rocked.)

Listen, I'm on your side, Don Quixote. I just hope you choose your battles wisely. Fight on.

"Sucker Punch"

Runtime:2 hr. 0 min.

Rated PG-13 for thematic material involving sexuality, violence and combat sequences, and for language

Cast: Emily Browning, Abbie Cornish, Jena Malone, Vanessa Hudgens, Jamie Chung, Oscar Isaac, Carla Gugino, Jon Hamm, Scott Glenn

Director: Zack Snyder

Possessing a visual style that's meant to double as a cinematic narrative in and of itself is a tall order, and director Zack Snyder comes closer than most.

The visual artisan behind such films as "300" and  "Watchmen," Snyder is a director who believes in stories without borders.  His films are a bizarre combination of the savage and the ethereal.  While his characters often find themselves being vaulted from pillar to post in a world of physical and psychological barbarity, they're seldom imbued with cynicism and are always looking to break free.

Consider the premise of "Sucker Punch."  The story involves a young girl named Babydoll.  She's played by Emily Browning, an actress of noticeably diminutive stature and a face emboldened by emotional hardship.  She looks like she's been hurt before and expects to be hurt again.  After a confrontation with her stepfather, she is sent to the Lennox House Insane Asylum.  It's one of those forbidding mansions that feeds on the fear siphoned from those thrust through its doors.

From there, the movie is about Babydoll's formulation of a plan to break free before a surgeon nicknamed High Roller (Jon Hamm) arrives to perform a lobotomy illegally authorized by Blue (Oscar Isaac), the asylum's head honcho. 

Babydoll enlists the help of some fellow inmates, including Rocket (Jena Malone), an engaging free-spirit whose need to sever herself from parental influence has led to a life she didn't expect.  Also, we have the eager but confidence-starved Amber (Jamie Chung) and a feisty brunette ironically named Blondie (Vanessa Hudgens).  The most reluctant to join in on the plan is Rocket's big sister, Sweet Pea (Abbie Cornish).  With a no-nonsense voice and a cool, detached demeanor, Sweet Pea establishes a protective air around her sister. 

What makes the film somewhat unique isn't the plot points, but the stylized manner in which Babydoll navigates the sinews of her escape plan.  The film is essentially about the places people flee to in their minds to lead them from the most stifling of situations.  What we have here is a symphony of alternate realities conjured up by Babydoll herself to deal with her incarceration.  (Although said "alternate realities" seem bred more from the mind of a teen boy with a love of video games than a displaced young girl, but that shouldn't really surprise us given the film's target demographic.)

Examples of these "realities?"  After Babydoll's arrival, the asylum takes on the form of a burlesque club, with the key players in the role of dancers.  She is taken under the wing of Gorski (Carla Gugino), and taught to unsheathe her rage on the stage.  We never bear witness to her exotic dances, as they are actually a portal into a deeper "reality" involving all manner of cinematic set pieces from past, present, and future...

Zeppelins, nuclear bombs, Nazis, fire-breathing dragons, cyborgs, futuristic elevated trains, "Metropolis"-inspired cityscapes... nothing seems off-limits in these alternate locales where our heroines must complete missions explained by a guru (Scott Glenn) to procure a list of items that will help Babydoll's escape.

Yes, I realize the above description is confusing.  But describing the plot is moot.  Zack Snyder's visual style doesn't exist to compliment the story... it drives the story.  That presents a bit of a problem here, as the visuals clearly upstage the narrative.  "Watchmen" was an infinitely better movie, as that one had a more nuanced plot and stronger character development to accent its shadowy atmosphere.  Here, the heroines are likable though not particularly deep, and narrative cohesion is pretty much abandoned.  It is worth noting, however, that Snyder does demonstrate a definite skill at conveying a concept with little or no dialogue.  The whole opening sequence is set to an achingly somber rendition of the Eurythmics song "Sweet Dreams."

The alternate realities are where the heroines--armed to the hilt--are at their strongest.  The film does make a curious decision, however, to keep them in their skimpy burlesque attire during those battle scenes.  This may at first seem like mere titillation for the target demographic, although I wonder if another reason was to show the heroines' vulnerability... a reminder that they're at perpetual war with the salacious perspectives of the men wielding the power.  (Although I'm perfectly willing to cop to the fact that I may indeed be giving the filmmakers too much credit with this assumption.) 

Rick Carter's production design and Larry Fong's cinematography are stellar, giving rise to a visual style that keeps us occupied enough to refrain from noticing that any potential story has taken the role of sacrificial lamb to the film's distinct look.

As an exercise in visual exuberance, the film more or less works.  Somehow I do find myself recommending it despite nagging reservations.  It's far from exceptional, as there's simply too little substance to accompany the style.  The movie scores an A for style but a C- for substance.  Split the difference, you get a modest recommendation.  The film is more a feast for the eyes than the brain.

* * *  out of  * * * *  stars

"Of Gods and Men"

Runtime:2 hr. 0 min.

Rated PG-13 for some disturbing images, brief language and a momentary scene of startling wartime violence

Cast: Lambert Wilson, Jean-Marie Frin, Jacques Harlin, Philippe Laudenbach, Michael Lonsdale, Xavier Maly

Director: Xavier Beauvois

"Of Gods and Men" is set in Algeria during the country's civil war during the 1990s.  It tells the story of seven Roman Catholic French Trappist monks who were ultimately kidnapped from their monastery after refusing the leave the country following a threat from the Armed Islamic Group of Algeria.

The decision to stay, of course, was not an easy one.  "We're not here for martyrdom," reminds one monk to his spiritual brother, shining a light on their mission to help the sick and needy in the dilapidated village of Tibhirine.  True, but nobody is ever there for martyrdom.  That's what makes it martyrdom.

(It is, after all, a confounding concept whose meaning exists solely in the postmortem.  Of course we don't understand martyrdom.  Neither do martyrs.)

This is a quiet, thoughtful, deliberately-paced, deeply meditative film that probably won't resonate with viewers expecting to see a movie punched to life with plot points in all the usual places.  Essentially, the story is little more than the monks struggling to come to terms with a decision that will have consequences extending beyond what they know, entrenching into what they believe.

The movie spends a large amount of time simply observing the daily routines of the monks as they serve the needs of those in the village.  Things like providing medical care, education, performing construction, selling food at the market.  The dangers of war do gird their peaceful plot of land, though the missionary efforts seem to be paying off.  That is, until word comes that a group of Croatian workers was massacred nearby.  The miasma of civil war that has been choking the air for years has now drifted its way to their door.

The Algerian government advises them to depart, and even offers support.  They are rebuffed by Brother Christian (Lambert Wilson), though many of the other monks question his rather immediate refusal of assistance, including Brother Luc (Michael Lonsdale), the eldest member.  The group continues on with their work and their prayers, while meeting sporadically to discuss their options.  They can either leave all at once, or leave one or two at a time in an effort to keep the villagers at arm's length from the reality that they'll be left behind.  Of course, there is also the option to stay and continue their work, and face some potentially deadly consequences.

Religion is ubiquitous in this story.  That's a given.  Yet the movie treats its approach to spiritual devotion with a refined elegance that is quite refreshing.  Most films today dare not involve religion unless it is married to the word "fanaticism" in some form or another.  Here we see religious devotion as an all-encompassing spiritual entity that works both as a blessing in the comfort it affords, and as a curse in the danger it invites.  The contrasting perspectives are given equal consideration.  (One extended shot has Luc gently kissing a canvas painting of Christ.  Another scene has a frightened, faith-tested monk crying prayers of desperation in the night... "Please God, don't abandon me!")

The film is in French with English subtitles, though has a sparse supply of dialogue.  It's remarkable how much meaning is conveyed in simple scenes showing the day-to-day life of these committed missionaries and the needy souls who surround them.

Writer/director Xavier Beauvois makes the wise decision to refrain from forced, extended dialogue scenes that spell out the thought processes of certain characters as they struggle with the impending decision.  Instead, he allows the delicately observant cinematography of Caroline Champetier to do a lion's share of the work.

The most powerful scene takes place at a dinner following the group's final decision.  They dine to a tape recording of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake ballet.  The camera glides from face to face as they feast.  No words are spoken.  A content smile blesses a few faces.  Some monks stare into the distance, deep in thought.  A couple wipe freshly-formed tears from their eyes.  There's a cognizance of meaning in the manner in which the scene is handled.  The camera feels free to linger on certain faces.  Nothing is rushed.  Nothing forced.  It's a haunting, hypnotic sequence...

These devoted spiritual followers know what's coming.

I've heard the film described as a subtle yet powerful depiction of heroism.  It is, but a unique kind of heroism.  One defined not by actions, but through acceptance.  By the movie's conclusion, I realized the most challenging thing about sacrifice also happens to be the one thing that affords us the inner-peace we so long for...

It's in coming to terms with it.

* * *  out of  * * * *  stars

"Paul"

Runtime:1 hr. 44 min.

Rated R for language, including sexual references, and some drug use

Cast: Simon Pegg, Nick Frost, Seth Rogen, Jason Bateman, Kristen Wiig, Bill Hader, Blythe Danner, John Carroll Lynch, Sigourney Weaver

Director: Greg Mottola

"Paul" is a buddy road comedy about two British science fiction geeks who come to America, venture to San Diego for the annual Comic Con, rent an RV, embark on a road odyssey to visit famous alien-oriented sights, and soon come into contact with an actual extra-terrestrial just outside Area 51.  The humor stems from the fact that the alien is better adjusted than the geeks.

Perhaps "better adjusted" isn't the right phrase.  Let's just say that when the encounter first takes place, it's the alien—nicknamed Paul—who keeps the most level head.  He seems comfortable in his surroundings, has a predilection toward F-bombs and weed, and appears to know more about alien pop culture than most nerds. 

Of course, the movie has an explanation for this... we're told that after his ship crash-landed on earth, he spent the last sixty years taking up residence in a top-secret military base, where he offered the United States government various brands of expertise.  And I don't just mean in science.  I mean in pop culture, right on down to ping-ponging ideas for potential movie plots with the Hollywood elite. 

The human protagonists in this comedy are Graeme Willy (Simon Pegg) and Clive Gollings (Nick Frost).  Their nerdy “preparation” acquired at various sci-fi conventions enables them to accept the sheer absurdity of an actual alien in their midst, if not for some smaller distractions…

Graeme:  “What’s the matter, Clive?”

Clive:  “There’s an alien in the kitchen making coffee and bagels.”

Graeme:  “Did you want tea?”

Clive:  “No, I don’t want tea!”

Graeme:  “Right, because tea is weird in America.”

Paul (voiced by Seth Rogen) tells them that he broke out of the military base upon receiving word that his brain was going to be cut out of his head and studied.  They agree to help him, despite being pursued by a tenacious government agent named Zoil (Jason Bateman) who keeps up the chase while maintaining the secrecy of the target.  Zoil’s two subordinates (Bill Hader and Joe Lo Truglio) remain on a need-to-know basis only, although they begin to suspect something more is happening.  The agents work for The Big Guy (Sigourney Weaver) whose militant approach to her job is unmatched.  (She has an autographed portrait of George W. Bush signed “You’re the best thing I ever invaded!”) 

More eclectic characters are dumped onto the pile, including Ruth Buggs (Kristen Wiig) a devout Christian who proudly wears a t-shirt showing God gunning down Charles Darwin with the caption “EVOLVE THIS!” emblazoned along the front.  After she discovers what the men have hidden in their RV, they kidnap her.  Initially she resists, but soon discovers a newfound sense of freedom after breaking away from her biblical bondage.  Her father (John Carroll Lynch), an even more hardcore Christian, follows in furious pursuit.  Also on the crew’s trail are a couple of halfwit hillbillies (David Koechner and Jesse Plemons) who have a beef with the foreigners… the ones from England as well as the one from space.

The screenplay is by Simon Pegg and Nick Frost, and it’s the latest in a series of successful script collaborations between the two.  (Others include “Shaun of the Dead” and “Hot Fuzz.”)  Their films are known not so much for razor-sharp wit as for a kind of madcap ebullience.  Here, they’re aided by the skilled directing hand of Greg Mottola ("Superbad," "Adventureland") as well as special effects that are impressive for a comedy of this scale. 

Seth Rogen is basically playing Seth Rogen as an alien… which I suppose is the point.  If you cast a voice belonging to someone like Rogen, you’re conjuring up a very specific persona.  The sometimes snarky, smart-ass speech patterns and crude mannerisms he provides serve their purpose.  Pegg and Frost make very credible middle-aged nerds.  And Kristen Wiig’s knack for comic delivery is counterbalanced nicely with her unassuming good looks.  She’s inviting as well as funny.

It’s true, in comedies with a premise like this, that my bar of cinematic excellence wasn’t set particularly high upon entering the theatre.  But I give credit where it’s due.  I laughed.  Quite a bit, actually.  It’s not exactly art… just a fun, goofy cross-country romp where an alien with a penchant for pot, pop culture, and partying finds himself in the company of guys who are oddly well-equipped to handle just such a situation.

* * *  out of  * * * *  stars

"The Lincoln Lawyer"

Runtime:1 hr. 59 min.

Rated R for some violence, sexual content and language

Cast: Matthew McConaughey, Marisa Tomei, Ryan Phillippe, William H. Macy, Michael Pena

Director: Brad Furman

"The most dangerous client..." muses the attorney at the center of "The Lincoln Lawyer" as he recounts a saying from his father.  "...is an innocent one.  If you let an innocent man go to jail, you'll never be able to live with yourself.  Better to defend the guilty."

That may indeed be as cynical as it gets, but it has served Michael "Mick" Haller (Matthew McConaughey) well, as he has embraced that approach with a conviction reserved for more idealistic legal eagles.  He earned the nickname "Lincoln Lawyer" because he travels around town in a chauffeured Lincoln Continental after losing his driver's license.  The suspension was lifted a while back, but he has gotten used to his office doubling as his transportation.  I guess when you defend only those you believe to be guilty, it's better to stay constantly on the move.  His career leaves little room for romance, as Haller only pauses for flings with his prosecutor ex-wife, Maggie (Marisa Tomei).  The sexual attraction has never dissipated between the two, even though their conflicting ideals impeded any chance of a successful marriage. 

"The Lincoln Lawyer" is a skillful film adaptation of an ever more skillful novel.  The book was penned by Michael Connelly, one of the highest-echelon crime writers working today, though his books don't have the cult following of Patterson or Grafton.  It's a sad literary truth that the more intelligent, highbrow writing doesn't always translate into the greatest volume of readership.

Despite his slick, fast-talking persona and jaded preference toward defending the guilty, Haller takes a clinical, detached, detail-oriented approach to procuring a client's best defense.  He's an exceptional attorney.  His latest case is brought to him through back channels, via a police precinct contact (John Leguizamo).  A rich, spoiled snot of a man named Louis Roulet (Ryan Phillippe) has been arrested for the assault and rape of a known prostitute.  He claims he's innocent.  His real-estate tycoon mother (Frances Fisher) will spare no expense on her son's defense.  They have a family attorney (Bob Gunton) whose only purpose seems to be in adding up the billable hours.  This is the big time, and only a lawyer of Haller's reputation can be of assistance.

Right away, the shadiness of Roulet's personality makes its presence known.  "This kid just feels wrong to me," observes Haller's chief investigator (William H. Macy).  Roulet is the kind of defendant familiar in stories like this.  Phillippe plays him as an egomaniacal twit who somehow covets the fact that he's a complete asshole.  This is neither here nor there for Haller, who merely seeks the avenue toward the speediest defense...

...except that during his own investigative work, Haller sees a similarity to a case from years earlier.  Similar wounds on the victim.  Similar method of assault.  Problem is, the defendant in that case (Michael Pena) was convincingly persuaded by Haller to take a plea, despite his own vehement declarations of innocence.  This throws Haller's whole perspective into a state of chaos.  Is Roulet guilty, or merely covering up something bigger?  If it is possible that Roulet is guilty, how can Haller make things right?  Is that even possible when the bent code of ethics you've lived by no longer serves your conscience? 

There are twists and turns aplenty here.  Roulet may or may not be guilty of these crimes, but we can tell right off the bat that he'll be guilty of firing up his own means of influence to steer the case in the direction he best sees fit.  The last forty-five minutes of the movie is a choreographed two-step of courtroom prestidigitation, as Roulet maintains a manipulative hold on Haller's defense while Haller leads DA Minton (Josh Lucas) into a trap. 

As with any thriller, the ending may seem too neatly wrapped up in a nice package but to the film's credit, I never minded even as the bow was being applied.  One of the things the movie does so well is create painstakingly real characters facing complex moral dilemmas, then allowing their alterable perspectives to dictate the flow of the story.  There's an effortless fluidity to the narrative, especially in the concluding courtroom scenes.  The screenplay by John Romano wisely avoids any unnecessary histrionics while the smooth, confident direction of Brad Furman (“The Take”) never allows the plot to override the story's central moral dilemma.  Even the most crucial plot points feel muted so as not to upstage the colorful characters.

Matthew McConaughey's track record with role choice is distinctly spotty, and he was a bit over-hyped in the media when he first came onto the scene in "A Time to Kill."  But when he finds the right role, he embodies it to perfection.  This is as close to ideal casting as it gets.  Mick Haller is a man those around him either completely love or totally hate, and it's a tribute to McConaughey's performance that we can sympathize 100% with both reactions. 

The trick, I think, to the movie's success doesn't lie in the number of plot twists, but that it never feels burdened by them.  The best cinematic sleight of hand doesn't involve getting us to guess the outcome, but engaging our elemental interest to such a degree that we don't feel the need to try. 

* * * 1/2  out of  * * * *  stars

"Limitless"

Runtime:1 hr. 45 min.

Rated PG-13 for thematic material involving a drug, violence including disturbing images, sexuality and language

Cast: Bradley Cooper, Robert De Niro, Abbie Cornish, Anna Friel, Tomas Arana

Director: Neil Burger

The human brain is a lot of things... an infinite expanse of intellectual, instinctual,  and emotional complexity.  More than anything else, however, it is vulnerable.

The curious dichotomy in "Limitless" is that despite the main character's procurement of a drug that enhances his brain function to stupefying degrees, he is never in a genuine position of power.  He spends the duration of the film either battling the drug's side effects or evading a plethora of external forces that want the magic pill for themselves.  He's essentially a babe in the woods.

Eddie Morra (Bradley Cooper) is a writer.  Or at least, that's what he tells people when they ask.  He does have a book deal, but has long since spent the advance and hasn't written a word.  His girlfriend, Lindy (Abbie Cornish) has just left him.  A perpetually disheveled mess, he now spends his vast off-time wandering the city streets.  One day, he bumps into his former brother-in-law, Vernon (Johnny Whitworth), a former drug-peddler who insists he's moved on though we suspect otherwise.  They meet for lunch, catch up, and Vernon presents Eddie with a small, clear pill.  "You know how we can only access twenty percent of our brain?" he asks rhetorically.  "This lets you access all of it."

Eddie is skeptical but egged on by the reality that he has, in fact, nothing to lose.  He swallows the pill, and notices the effects immediately.  Things that he had learned and forgot throughout his life can now be summoned instantly, complex mathematical equations can be calculated in his head, he can speak a foreign language simply by listening to conversations for several minutes.  The intellectual possibilities extend into infinity.

He drops the writing gig, and takes up stock trading instead.  His meteoric rise in the Wall Street game garners the interest of a smart, shifty financier (Robert DeNiro) named Carl Van Loon, which either sounds ominous or goofy... I haven't quite settled on one.  Van Loon is intrigued yet suspicious of Eddie's newfound talent for the Market.  His entourage isn't convinced.  "Delusions of grandeur," scoffs the financier's business partner (Robert John Burke).  "They're not delusions," Eddie counters.  "I have a recipe for grandeur."  Van Loon is ultimately won over.

Meanwhile, the drug's side effects become so burdensome to the point where Eddie turns to his ex-wife (Anna Friel)--the drug peddler's sister--who has some insider information.  All the while, Eddie must navigate a turbulent sea of greedy "addicts" who want the drug for themselves.  These include a cheerfully violent mob boss (Andrew Howard), a sleazy lawyer (Ned Eisenberg), and the henchman for one of Van Loon's business rivals (Tomas Arana).

There's something called the "fun house" effect.  It's what you experience when you walk or stand on, or stand near something that you think is level, but that isn't or that makes you think it isn't.  After a short while, you become dizzy and uncomfortable.  In a way, the movie had a "fun house" effect on me.  It didn't make me nauseous, but it did manage to somehow keep my perspective at a tilt.  I think that's the film's intended effect.  The director is Neil Burger, who made "The Illusionist."  (The period thriller with Edward Norton and Paul Giamatti.  Not the recent animated movie.)  He peppers the narrative with a vast concourse of visual techniques meant to punctuate the mental machinations caused by the drug.  They give the movie an effectively uneasy feel without imposing too heavily on the story itself.

What is a little distracting is the screenplay's tendency to drop subplots in mid-arc when they no longer weave comfortably into the fabric of the big picture.  One such plot involves the possibility that while on the drug, Eddie may have killed a woman in her hotel room.  He can't remember, but is brought in for a police line-up.  The witness cannot identify him, so he is released.  End of subplot.  So, what exactly did happen in that hotel room?  I may have missed something, but I don't recall that we're ever told.

Some of the details of the drug's effects on the body's immune system are maddeningly sketchy as well.  I tried to follow the explanations as best I could, though I still found it strange that some of the drug's users get sick, others don't.  Some die, others don't.  Some can be weaned off it, some cannot.

And yet, despite an occasionally uneven script, I still find myself recommending the movie.  It's an effective thriller with an intriguing premise, performances that are credible enough, and possesses a wicked visual style that gleefully kneads our perspective.  The fact that it's somewhat uncomfortable isn't a flaw in the filmmaking, but rather stems from our realization that while science may one day expand upon that twenty percent access to brain function, nature may have a better reason to keep that limit in place. 

* * *  out of  * * * *  stars

"Cedar Rapids"

Runtime:1 hr. 26 min.

Rated R for crude and sexual content, language and drug use

Cast: Ed Helms, John C. Reilly, Anne Heche, Isiah Whitlock, Jr.

Director: Miguel Arteta

At a time when we seem to embrace cynicism for little reason other than the fear of not embracing it, there's something intrinsically funny about the most naive among us.  "Cedar Rapids" is a comedy centered around a character who could be every bit as jaded as the next guy if he weren't so endearingly clueless.

For a film like this to work, the right actor is required.  Ed Helms bring to the table his knack for elevating social fecklessness to an art form.  It's what makes him fit in so perfectly with the cast of "The Office."  Here he plays Tim Lippe, a middle-aged insurance salesman who dives into his work with inexhaustible fervor.  So much so that when the opportunity presents itself to represent his small Wisconsin town agency in the annual insurance seminar in Cedar Rapids, he considers it the chance of a lifetime.  For most any other salesman, this would be yet another eye roll-inducing lecture-laden snooze-fest punctuated by the remote possibility of an extramarital fling.

Tim, however, is no ordinary salesman.  His naivete knows no bounds.  How clueless is he?  Here are some examples:  immediately following a sexual tryst with his recently-divorced high school teacher from years back (Sigourney Weaver), he presents her with a promise ring.  Outside his hotel in Cedar Rapids, he repeatedly mistakes a prostitute's propositions for friendly chit-chat.  ("So, what are you guys up to?")  As he enters his hotel room for the first time, he falls into a state of catatonic terror when he sees a black man (Isiah Whitlock, Jr.) behind the door.  That is, until he learns the man is another salesman.

His goal, as explained by his exuberant boss (Stephen Root), is to acquire the coveted Two Diamonds award, given out by the insurance association president (Kurtwood Smith).  The pressure is on.  If Tim fails, he could end up losing everything he holds dear.

His task becomes complicated by the introduction of other distractions, including a flirtatious colleague (Anne Heche) who sees the seminar as an excuse to "take a break" from her life.  And a crass, in-your-face, vulgarity-peppered goofball (John C. Reilly), who manages to make the most crude remarks in the most disgusting manner possible.  It's bad enough for someone to express every single thought running through their mind, but when said mind is entrenched as far in the gutter as this guy's is, it makes his speech pattern a biohazard.  The unbridled mockery displayed by both characters is a means to deal with lives that didn't turn out as expected.

The movie gets a lot of mileage from sitting back and observing Tim Lippe's goofy guileless social machinations, yet it never looks down upon him.  A lesser comedy would have him change from wide-eyed, sublime innocent to as jaded a buffoon as those surrounding him.  But the film takes a certain pride in the very personality quirks that give birth to the movie's humor.  We laugh at Tim's uptight reactions to unfolding events while maintaining a curious admiration for him at the same time.

Despite solid comic turns both on television and in movies like "The Hangover," Ed Helms doesn't seem like typical leading man material.  Luckily, he's portraying a character miles from typical.  His comic stylings are perfectly tailored to the role of Tim Lippe.  Anne Heche adds color to the mix as a master of compartmentalization.  She's able to allow herself to be moved by Tim's story of why he became a salesman, yet her fling with him is only a fling... just that... nothing more.

With a bizarre kind of ribald ebullience, John C. Reilly takes every scene he occupies by the scrotum, playing the kind of friend who, during those rare times when you're not apologizing for his behavior, you're holding your breath in fearful anticipation of being on the receiving end of lines like... "Hey, what's that?  You got some pubes on your cheek.  All right, eatin' a little canned tuna from the bottom shelf!"

Cynicism needs constant feeding to remain active.  It's an unfortunate truth that the human condition is hardwired to provide that feeding.  That's what makes off-beat characters like Tim Lippe both so funny and so endearing.  There's something admirable about finding joy in the simplest things...

On the plane trip home after the seminar, Tim recounts some of his adventures to a flight attendant.  "Well, that earns you a second bag of peanuts," she offers.  "A second bag of peanuts," he muses.  A broad smile of genuine happiness crosses his face.  "Awesome."

* * *  out of  * * * *  stars

"The Company Men"

Runtime:1 hr. 53 min.

Rated R for language and brief nudity

Cast: Tommy Lee Jones, Ben Affleck, Chris Cooper, Maria Bello, Rosemarie DeWitt, Kevin Costner, Craig T. Nelson, Eamon Walker

Director: John Wells

While one's fears don't always transform into reality, there are moments in life when the two march in disquieting lockstep.  Say... during an economic recession, when one's employment hangs tenuously in the balance. 

The thought of one's livelihood vanishing in a second can give rise to the most terminating of ideas.  At one point in John Wells' "The Company Men," one character, when faced with the proposition of moving his family into his parents' home, says "I'd rather die.  I would actually choose death."  That's what most anyone would say... until you're actually faced with that situation.  When fear actually does give way to reality, decisions become a little more malleable. 

Pain and sadness flow throughout "The Company Men" but hope is there, too.  The story, about a trio of business executives who suddenly find themselves severed from their careers after a bout of downsizing, is not so much about their lives being turned completely, unexpectedly upside down, but rather about how those nagging fears in the back of any successful person's head--those that involve losing what they have--come to unfortunate fruition.  Behind every successful person is a fear of not being successful. 

The execs work for Global Transportation Express, a New England-based shipping company whose growth appears to have slowed to a standstill.  One of the first to be let go is Robert Walker (Ben Affleck).  He is consumed with animosity toward his employers, yet believes he will find another job soon enough.  His wife Maggie (Rosemarie DeWitt) begins slashing the family budget, including such steps as selling their home.

The other two executives are Phil Woodworth (Chris Cooper), a whip-smart, fiery division head who has worked with the same company his entire occupational life, beginning literally on the factory floor.  And Gene McClary (Tommy Lee Jones), a mid-level executive who was once best friends with the company's head honcho (Craig T. Nelson), but who has become disillusioned with scores of good people being shipped out onto the streets of despair while CEOs rake in the dollars.

The film is essentially an observation of the steps taken by each man as they come to terms with their situation, their relationships, and their "new" place in the world. 

Robert has a tough time accepting the reality of his situation, feeling the need to appear successful, even minus a job.  ("I can't just be another asshole with a resume!")  He is blessed, however, with a wife that does her best to manage the family's financial morass while attempting to navigate the internal struggles faced by her husband.  He is offered work by his brother-in-law, Jack (Kevin Costner) who works as a building contractor.  Robert scoffs at the idea.  He couldn't sink to the level of construction work.  (Though it never really occurs to him that Jack has always been much more content with his life.)  After witnessing the financial sacrifices made by his family, he finally relents and joins Jack's crew.

Gene is married to a woman he no longer feels a connection toward, and has entered into an affair with Stacey (Maria Bello), another employee at the company who has been put in charge of determining who gets let go.  Their relationship is interesting in that the lovers have entered into the union to battle a similar self-loathing.  They both took corporate jobs long ago under the assumption that they could facilitate positive change from the inside, only to realize the phrase "nature of the beast" was coined for a very distinct reason. 

Phil's subplot is the most powerful and heartbreaking.  A sixty-year-old man with financial obligations that must be met, his most crucial scene has him across the desk from a headhunter who marks up his resume with red ink while offering job hunt tips.  She scribbles, crosses out things.  "Get rid of anything ancient.  Pre-90s," she informs him.  Crosses more of Phil's accomplishments out.  Scribbles.  "You might want to dye your hair, get rid of the gray.  You look like hell."  More scribbling.  She litters his resume with red markings.  "Here... for military service, don't put Vietnam.  Too old.  Just say military combat operations."  This man's dignity is being crushed beneath the weight of those red marks.

The movie is not a blistering attack on corporate greed.  Documentaries like "Inside Job" take a more pointed aim in that direction.  This is a quiet, grounded, thoughtful examination of people who reside somewhere between the tragic reality of being homeless and the corporate CEOs who hunker down behind all-too-simple fiscal platitudes when pressed about the lives affected by certain financial decisions. 

At the center of the story lies the realization that we all have a reserve... a capacity for adaptation that can be called upon in the event our worst fears somehow morph into an unfortunate reality.  We must take solace in that reserve, even if the thought of tapping into it scares the hell out of us.

* * *  out of  * * * *  stars

"Red Riding Hood"

Runtime:1 hr. 49 min.

Rated PG-13 for violence and creature terror, and some sensuality

Cast: Amanda Seyfriend, Gary Oldman, Billy Burke, Shiloh Fernandez, Max Irons, Julie Christie

Director: Catherine Hardwicke

I struggle with movies where the visual style is in a perpetual joust for attention with the story elements.

"Red Riding Hood" is an updated expansion upon the classic tale, so one could argue that the look of the film is intended to evoke a fairy tale feel.  Fair enough, but the production design should always be a supplement to the story.  When the actors themselves look uncomfortable occupying their own surroundings, that's a pretty solid indicator that your visual atmosphere could use a little dialing down.

(Look, I'm not seeking a realistic setting here, but this is like watching a sleep-inducing Twilight-inspired love triangle combined with an Agatha Christie whodunit set in Dr. Seuss' Whoville.  At some point, you have to try to make your story at least remotely relatable.)

It doesn't help that the film combines a swarm of plot elements and doesn't handle any of them with recognizable skill.  The film is part love story, part thriller, and part social statement on martial law and pious fanaticism.  None of the individual parts leaves much of an impression.  The only real accomplishment here is that the ineffectiveness of one element offsets the ineffectiveness of the others.

The story is set in Daggerhorn, a village of about thirty people nestled in the most remote location imaginable.  A bloodthirsty werewolf has been terrorizing the inhabitants for generations.  Meanwhile, a love triangle has developed in the confines of the village.  Valerie (Amanda Seyfried) is in love with Peter (Shiloh Fernandez), yet her parents (Billy Burke and Virginia Madsen) have scoured the town's available bachelors and have arranged a more suitable husband-to-be (Max Irons) for her.

During a blood red full moon, the wolf makes his presence known once again and in their fear, the villagers summon Father Solomon (Gary Oldman) to combat the beast.  Solomon wastes no time in declaring martial law in an effort to unearth the wolf's cover.  Yet we know, of course, that the final confrontation will be between Valerie and the beast, most likely while she's en route to the homestead of her grandmother (Julie Christie).

There's simply no cohesion here.  Nothing holding this story together.  We know very little about the participants in the love triangle, the martial law aspect isn't developed enough to be effective, and the thriller element is nothing more than a potpourri of red herrings, as we're given reasons to think each member of the village could be the wolf.  The whole movie feels like it's in a constant struggle to make sense of itself.

Amanda Seyfried is certainly easy on the eyes, though the jury is still out on her acting range.  That's not really her fault, as her roles up until now haven't afforded her the chance to flex her acting muscles.  She seems boxed in by somber, romantic leads like this.  The rest of the cast is reduced to the aforementioned red herring-mode... everyone a potential "suspect."  Gary Oldman spends his screen time chewing the hell out of the scenery.  And believe me, that is one monster task in this film.

The director is Catherine Hardwicke, who recently made headlines by lamenting over being turned away from directing "The Fighter" because of her gender.  She may very well have a point, but it's hard to believe taking on directing jobs like this one is the solution.  Perhaps she should return to her independent film roots.  (She directed the searing drama "Thirteen" with Evan Rachel Wood.)  Of course, you don't get the big bucks or added luxuries you do with major studio productions.  Yes, the indie trek is an emotionally exhausting slog and the money is practically nonexistent.  Plus, moviegoers will likely have to wait longer for your next film to hit theatres.  But hey, if it'll spare me viewing experiences like this one?  I have no problem being patient.

*  out of  * * * *  stars

"Battle: Los Angeles"

Runtime:1 hr. 56 min.

Rated PG-13 for sustained and intense sequences of war violence and destruction, and for language

Cast: Aaron Eckhart, Michelle Rodriguez, Ramon Rodriguez, Bridget Moynahan, Ne-Yo, Michael Pena

Director: Jonathan Liebesman

"Battle: Los Angeles" wastes no effort in trying to pass itself off as more significant a movie than it is.  That's not necessarily a cinematic crime and to its credit, the film does come closer to accomplishing that goal than I thought it might.  The production values are decent enough and the pace seldom slows. The end result, though, is a movie that still resides in the shadow of better films in this genre.

Or should I say genres.  The movie is essentially an attempt to bridge the gap between being a war epic and an alien invasion thriller.  A sci-fi "Black Hawk Down" if you will.  Of course, movie history has blessed us with grittier war movies and more impressive science-fiction fare.  That represents the cliff that director Jonathan Liebesman ("The Killing Room") and his filmmaking crew are trying to scale.  (It also bears noting that these two genres have been combined before.  James Cameron's "Aliens" was an infinitely better film.) 

Perhaps "combination" isn't the right word here.  Despite the sci-fi story injections, "Battle: Los Angeles" has the definite look and feel of a war movie.  Cinematographer Lukas Ettlin has taken a page from the Ridley Scott visual playbook, employing a twitchy camera style common in war stories.  The movie introduces us to an umpteen number of soldiers, each time offering us a superimposed name graphic to identify them.  This is done under the ludicrous assumption that we'll be able to keep track of all the characters based on a three second identifier. 

The one character we will certainly get to know is staff sergeant Michael Nantz (Aaron Eckhart), a war veteran whose last tour of duty resulted in the deaths of several soldiers under his command.  The details are sketchy, but we know off the bat the deaths were not the result of negligence.  Nantz is clearly broken up by what happened.

Nantz is thrust back into active duty when a race of alien beings invades cities around the world, including Los Angeles.  The aliens somewhat resemble the Prawns in "District 9" although we don't really get a good up-close look at them.  Between the explosions, debris, smoke, not to mention the Los Angeles-patented smog, it's a wonder anything is visible.  While other military units secure various perimeters, Nantz's unit must rescue a handful of civilians, remove them from harm's way before a scheduled air raid obliterates what's left of the city.

Director Liebesman has studied the visual techniques utilized in previous war movies.  The firefight sequences are surprisingly effective.  Confusion and fear choke the air, as soldiers struggle to separate the innocent civilians and fellow soldiers from an alien species whose identifying traits are a complete mystery.  The film certainly leans more toward the war genre, and is aided by a solid production design.

While decent on a technical level, the movie struggles quite a bit with character development.  The benefit of films dealing with actual wartime events is the historical context itself.  Good screenwriters understand how to incorporate that very context into the characters... their perceptions, hopes, fears, and prejudices, thereby giving those movies a colorful narrative periphery.  A more nuanced story arc.  Here, though, screenwriter Christopher Bertolini doesn't have that luxury.  As a result, all we're left with are cliched elements seen in lesser movies.  The tortured hero.  Subordinates who don't trust him.  Characters who die at the most serendipitous times... just when the plot requires a galvanizing speech to be delivered.  The character development really pales in comparison to the film's technical skill.

Having said that, I give a lot of credit to Aaron Eckhart.  He possesses a grounded, low-key credibility that serves him well here.  He never loses his air of authenticity, even when reciting occasional lines of dialogue that would have made George C. Scott blush.  At times, the movie comes dangerously close to losing its grip on the reins, and sliding into glossy patriotic rubric.  It's Eckhart's grounded persona that keeps the film in check.

It's not really an awful movie.  Just not as significant as the filmmakers think it is.  Or expected it to be.  It may very well appeal to mass audiences, especially to those who haven't experienced a plethora of classic war films or more daring science-fiction material. 

As for me?  I think I'd rather go home, curl up on my couch, pull out my DVD copy of "Aliens" and allow myself to get wrapped up in an adventure pitting a Marine corps unit against a school of slimy alien starfish-like entities that attach themselves to the human face, implant an embryo into their digestive tract that results in a monstrous alien that bursts through the victim's gut spewing blood in varying directions.  Call me old-fashioned.

* *  out of  * * * *  stars

The Directing Elite - Stanley Kubrick

This is the beginning of a series where I will be paying homage to some of my favorite directors.

Stanley Kubrick is a somewhat interesting inclusion into this category, as I didn't really grow up with his movies in the traditional sense. 

(My favorite Kubrick film was released the year of my birth.  My second favorite hit theatres four years prior.)

Many I had to go back and watch on video and/or DVD.  Some I was able to watch on the big screen, thanks to special event screenings.  I truly savored those experiences.  His films, quite frankly, are meant to be seen on the big screen, and it's sad that today's moviegoers will likely miss out on the opportunity.

What follows are my five favorite Stanley Kubrick movies.  All deal in one form or another with the theme of disconnect, whether it be from another person, a horrific situation, or even reality itself.

# 5 - "Full Metal Jacket"

The first half of this movie is more powerful than the second half, and possesses a disconnect that is twofold. First, we have gunnery sergeant Hartman (R. Lee Ermey) grilling his new batch of recruits with the most colorful of insults. His berating manner, common in Marine recruit training, is necessary. He must strip the men of everything they have taken solace in and prepare them for horrors the likes of which they've never experienced. The most notable psychological "teaching tool" if you will, involves the recruits having to give their rifles a girl's name, and recite a curious creed of both love and blood lust. ("This is my rifle. There are many like it but this one is mine...")  The second disconnect belongs to private Leonard Lawrence (Vincent D'Onofrio), nicknamed Gomer Pyle by Hartman because of his limitless incompetence. After constant abuse at the hands of his superior, he finally snaps and unleashes a salvo of vengeful savagery in the barracks' head.

# 4 - "A Clockwork Orange"
 

The narrative disconnect in "A Clockwork Orange" takes on the form of a giant pendulum, swinging from one extreme to the other. The central character is Alex Delarge (Malcolm MacDowell), a serial rapist and murderer. He is soon caught, imprisoned, and "deprogrammed" by the British government into absolute docility, only for the powers-that-be to realize that victimization doesn't exist in a personal vacuum. 

The "animal kingdom" rules of victimizing the weak is embedded so deep into basic human psychology... it simply isn't limited to criminal behavior. The reformation experiment doesn't work, and Alex leaves the movie as he started.

I've heard many complaints that the film justifies his vicious acts. On a surface level, I understand that criticism. But when you consider it a little more fully, I think the opposite is being stated. If anything, this is a pretty solid argument in favor of the death penalty. Opponents of it often recite Ghandi's "an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind." A fine sentiment... the problem lies in its assumption that anyone in favor of capital punishment is solely out for blood. The truth is a bit more complicated, as examined here. If criminal reformation is indeed not possible, how much are we prepared to forgive?

# 3 - "The Shining"

"The Shining" is a stark dissection of one man's full-on disconnect from reality as his wife and son grapple with this untenable nightmare. The family, having agreed to watch over a magnificently creepy resort hotel in the winter off-season deep in the wilderness, is now cut off from the outside world by a monstrous blizzard. Help isn't coming from anywhere. The patriarch (Jack Nicholson) is a writer, making him already one step closer to madness than the average person. His wife loves him, has come to accept his mood swings. But the isolation takes its toll, thrusting him into a centrifuge of paranoid delusions.

My favorite scene is when his wife, Wendy (Shelly Duvall), after being viciously chastised for interrupting him while he writes, waits until he's outside, then sneaks into the giant study--bat in hand--to see his progress, only to find "all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy" typed over and over on page after page. He is no longer dialed into reality at this point. He confronts her, stalks her as she feebly swings the bat to keep him at bay. The combination of Jack's antics and Wendy's timidity gets a laugh, yet the film is remarkably true to the psychology of the scene. If the movie were remade today, she'd have no qualms about breaking his knee caps to get away. Kubrick is wiser and less cynical than that. A wife struggling to comprehend the growing madness in a husband she's loved for years would react exactly as she does. It's interesting how Kubrick works in certain genres, yet never feels boxed in by the confines of those genres. He presents the narrative in a raw manner, leaving the audience to extrapolate their own reactions (be it fear, laughter, anger, etc.) from the experience.


# 2 - "Dr. Strangelove, Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb"

Humor is raw. It cannot be processed. Attempts at humor are processed... how else can one try to evoke laughs from another? But what someone finds funny is a personal entity that cannot be adjusted. We either laugh at something or we don't. The reason I bring this up is to highlight a criticism that Kubrick has faced throughout his career... that he makes light of situations that don't encourage it, whether it be the humorous insults spewed by gunnery sergeant Hartman in "Full Metal Jacket" or Jack's delirium-induced antics in "The Shining." Yes, I laughed at various points in both movies and didn't always feel good about it. But to blame that on Kubrick is lazy. It's all about the rawness of humor. He gets it. What's presented on screen are situations in their most fundamental form. Our reactions are our own. Especially humor. He forces us to own our personal responses to his work. I think that's what separates those who love Kubrick from those who don't. If we laugh at something we feel we shouldn't, ought we to, at least, take a look at ourselves rather than blame the target of our laughter? (As entertaining as Charlie Sheen is right now, what if he really is descending into madness?)

But I digress. "Dr. Strangelove..." is Kubrick's most biting satire, and it's a movie where we're much more comfortable in what we laugh at, as grasping the inherent lunacy of war mongers in this here "nuke-u-lar" age is a little more digestible. Yet its approach to humor is quite similar to the above examples. Like any great satire, what makes it funny is that the characters take themselves completely seriously. In a movie with so many memorable scenes, I think perhaps the most indelible image is of Slim Pickens waving his hat, screaming "YEEE-HAWW" as he rides bareback atop a nuclear missile toward its target. Both because of the scene's gleeful ludicrousness and the realization that somewhere, someone watching is actually galvanized by such an image.


# 1 - "2001: A Space Odyssey"

Science fiction movies today have become faster-paced, perhaps more adventurous, definitely louder... but much less daring. My single favorite Kubrick film is "2001: A Space Odyssey." It's also my favorite in the sci-fi genre. Yeah, I know I'm going to be bombarded with verbal assaults that point toward the film's deliberate, methodical pace and bizarre narrative bookends. "Boring" is what most people say. Okay. Fine. You should remember, however, that the movie was released in 1968, before manned space exploration truly became a reality with Apollo 11. The movie is filled with wonder... the idea of space travel is treated with glorious intrigue. (Kubrick's dancing camera work to the "Blue Danube" waltz poetically sets the tone for this odyssey of evolution.) There was a time eons ago when the mere sight of a brilliant night sky filled with stars was considered so enthralling it would drive men mad. Now we look up, pick out the Big Dipper, then seek out the nearest fast food restaurant.

 

"2001" bursts through the confines of typical narrative storytelling. No director working today is willing to think as far outside the box as Kubrick did. The closest contemporary director, I think, who might measure up would be Alex Proyas ("Dark City," "Knowing"). Of course, Christopher Nolan has demonstrated a willingness to bend narrative storytelling as well. (And dear reader, don't even think of introducing M. Night Shamalayan into this discussion. He's a gimmick artist at best.)

The disconnect here is one that's been examined in great length in the "Terminator" movies (although I think John Badham's "War Games" dissects the theme in a more comprehensive manner.) It's the lack of consideration with regards to the dangers inherent in creating machines that can think independently. Watson may be a blast to watch on "Jeopardy," but I wouldn't want it making decisions itself deems to be in my best interest. The HAL 9000 computer in "2001" has been masterfully designed to weigh risks and calculate outcomes, but to program it to take tangible actions with regards to the ship's mainframe was a huge human misstep. HAL's ability to process data is indeed unparalleled... it computes the danger, sizes up the risks, shifts into computer survival mode, and commits acts it deems necessary but ultimately endanger the crew. And yet HAL always remains an error of human origins. We're reminded of this in the scene where remaining astronaut Dave Bowman disconnects the rogue machine as it calmly pleads for mercy... ("Please, Dave. Don't do that. Please. Don't.")

Stanley Kubrick died on March 7, 1999, ending a magnificent career that has altered the way I watch movies. His work has left an imprint of which the movie lover in me is forever grateful. Thank you, sir.