Tuesday, January 31, 2012
That's how you fictionalize your life
By Edward Copeland
While watching 50/50, screenwriter Will Reiser's fictionalized account of being diagnosed with a rare form of cancer when he was in his late 20s, I thought of Godard's famous quote about the best way to criticize a movie is to make another movie. Now, I don't think that Reiser and director Jonathan Levine set out to do this, but 50/50 displays an exceptional example of how not to get so locked in by one's life that your movie can't breathe as was the case with Beginners.
Joseph Gordon-Levitt stars as Adam Learner, an NPR employee who has been complaining of back pain for quite some time. When he finally gets it checked out, it turns out to be a malignant tumor on his spine. Doing the modern research technique — Adam turns to the Internet to learn what he can and finds that if the cancer hasn't metastasized, the online information gives the person with his type of cancer a 50 percent chance of surviving. When he shares that information with his best friend and NPR co-worker Kyle (Seth Rogen), Kyle likes the odds, telling Adam they are better than he'd get in a casino.
Adam's overbearing mom Diane (Anjelica Huston, in her best role in a long time) eagerly offers to take over and care for Adam despite the fact that she's already dealing with his father Richard (Serge Houde), who has Alzheimer's disease. However, Adam's live-in girlfriend Rachael (Bryce Dallas Howard) steps up and says she'll stand by Adam through his treatment. Given the turn his young life takes, Learner understandably sinks into depression, prompting his doctor (Andrew Airlie) to refer Adam to a therapist (Anna Kendrick), only she still has her training wheels on, so to speak, as she hasn't completed her doctorate and Adam is only her third patient.
50/50 contains a lot of laughs, but it's more dramatic than I was expecting. In fact, given that Rogen basically plays a fictionalized version of himself (and when isn't Seth Rogen playing a fictionalized version of himself. Keep in mind, I never saw The Green Hornet.), I can't help but wonder if Will Reiser's story inspired Judd Apatow when he came up with Funny People where Rogen becomes best friends with Adam Sandler's comic character with cancer. Of course, 50/50 contains many major differences from Funny People, the most important being that we care what happens to Gordon-Levitt's character while I suffered some disappointment that they didn't kill Sandler off.
Gordon-Levitt continues to have one of the most amazing careers for actors who began plying their craft at an early age, dating back to TV sitcom work on the short-lived The Powers That Be from Norman Lear when he was 11 and a recurring role on Roseanne a year later. At 14 or 15, he gave the best performance in the wretched film The Juror starring Demi Moore, Alec Baldwin and James Gandolfini. Then he more than held his own as part of the comic ensemble of 3rd Rock From the Sun for six seasons.
Since he's grown into adulthood, he's completely missed the curse that often afflicts child actors, giving good to great performances in films such as Mysterious Skin, Brick, The Lookout, (500) Days of Summer, Inception and now 50/50. Reiser's screenplay delicately blends comedy and pathos and Gordon-Levitt has shown that he's adept at both forms with his previous choices, but 50/50 may be his first vehicle that allows him to display his range realistically within the same film.
Rogen, with the exception of the creepy and defiantly unfunny Observe and Report always plays himself more or less. The Rogen you see in Knocked Up simply is an R-rated version of Seth Rogen the talk show guest or Seth Rogen, award show presenter. In most circumstances, an actor like this would drive me up the wall, but I never hold it against Rogen because from the moment I first saw him on the great TV show Freaks and Geeks, he so strongly reminded me of a friend of mine from high school that each time I see him it's like seeing that friend again.
Huston, as you'd expect, turns in a great performance, even if you don't get that much of her. Howard also does the best job I've seen her do, though she never seems to look the same from one film to the next.
The other real bright spot of 50/50 belongs to Kendrick. She was so good (and Oscar-nominated) in Up in the Air. She also popped up in the fun Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World ss Scott's sister and I first noticed her in her film debut, the underrated and underseen musical Camp.
From all the praise that 50/50 received, it didn't turn out to be quite the movie I was expecting. It's good, but not in the ways it had been sold to me.
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Labels: 10s, A. Huston, Alec Baldwin, Apatow, Demi, Gandolfini, Godard, Gordon-Levitt, N. Lear, Seth Rogen
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Monday, May 23, 2011
Always a Bridesmaid
By David Gaffen
The new film Bridesmaids has been saddled with the unfortunate assignment of proving a movie centered largely around women can be funny, attract audiences across all ages and (more importantly) of both genders, and bring copious amounts of sexual and scatological humor, only this time, with girls!
The results are uneven — there are a number of huge laughs, notably in the scene where several of the bridesmaids-to-be erupt in a fit of vomit and diarrhea at a wedding dress fitting caused by food poisoning at an out-of-the-way Brazilian restaurant. (The movie takes place in Milwaukee, for some reason.)
It gets good mileage out of Kristin Wiig and Maya Rudolph, both from Saturday Night Live, as longtime friends who don't see each other as much as they used to, something that comes through after Rudolph's Lillian asks Wiig's Annie to be her maid of honor. This aspect of the story is mined well, along with some of the class resentments that seep through as Wiig grows jealous of her competition, Helen, played by Rose Byrne, who is swimming in money and isn't shy about showing it.
But what's worth considering is that this movie — which fits neatly in the group of so called "Frat Pack" movies that generally feature some combination of Will Ferrell, Seth Rogen, Paul Rudd, Jonah Hill, Adam Sandler, Vince Vaughn and a few others — is, like those movies, only partially successful and should cause us to remove the rose-colored glasses that tint our memories of the likes of Old School, Anchorman and other movies in this genre.
Judd Apatow (who produced Bridesmaids) is rightfully thought of as being at the center of a lot of these films, although his movies generally have more heart than some of the others in this group, and this movie — though over the top at times — shares some of those characteristics. It falls short of The 40-Year-Old Virgin, one of the best comedies (or movies) of the last 10 years, but slots in ahead of any of the other "Look at this wacky ensemble" movies such as Dodgeball, Wedding Crashers or Pineapple Express.
Those movies have grown in reputation over time, in part because of amusing set pieces and memorable moments. But most of the movies in this roughly 10-year time period were mediocre entertainment, enlivened by those few fantastic bits (the opening of Wedding Crashers, the climactic battle in Role Models) and weighted down with a lot of ballast — with enough juicy supporting turns to keep things interesting (Tim Meadows in Walk Hard, Jane Lynch in 40-Year-Old Virgin and, well, about everywhere else she showed up).
Which doesn't make Bridesmaids anything better or worse than this genre which it fits comfortably in. Wiig's Annie is in a bad place in life, and it keeps getting worse, and that aspect of the script is refreshing. She and the other women — particularly Melissa McCarthy, who serves the Zach Galifinakas/Stephen Root role of the hefty sidekick, but gets a few soulful moments that ground the movie — are given room to shine with gross-out material usually easily handled by men
But it has its problems. Goofy side plots, such as Wiig's British roommates, and her mother's (the late Jill Clayburgh in her final film role) penchant for attending AA meetings despite not being an addict, feel unfocused. That the movie seems on its way to making a nice chunk of change (it grossed $24 million in its first weekend, putting it on the path for about $60 million unless word of mouth pushes it further) is a testament to the pedigree of the producers involved and the marketing campaign as much as it is the script, which is good, but not great.
It's progress of a sort, one supposes — this isn't Sex and the City 2 — but it will take a few more movies in this vein before this appears to be a novelty.
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Labels: 00s, Apatow, Jonah Hill, Paul Rudd, Seth Rogen
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Sunday, September 19, 2010
As far back as I can remember, I always loved Goodfellas
By Edward Copeland
Some films' excellence hit you so hard with their greatness that once the end credits roll, you know that you will have to see the movie again — and soon — as you float out of the theater in a state of euphoria greater than a high any drug could produce. This feeling consumed me the very first time I saw Martin Scorsese's Goodfellas, which premiered 20 years ago today.
In 1990, I already had been a fan of Scorsese for quite some time, having seen every new film he made in a theater since The King of Comedy, including having to travel four hours to Dallas and stand in a long line in the rain to see The Last Temptation of Christ since my backward-ass state legislature actually passed a measure to prevent the film from playing here. Of Scorsese's films between 1983 and 1989 that I'd seen in a theater, After Hours was my favorite, though I felt Taxi Driver was his best, even though I'd only seen it in a cropped video version. Then Goodfellas came into my life and it changed forever. What grabbed me was not that I'd just seen an incredibly well-made, well-acted, well-written and well-directed film that provided one helluva entertaining time at the movies but that it seemed to me that hidden inside Goodfellas, Scorsese disguised a film school that all could attend. If you wanted to explain to any non-cinephile about any aspect of filmmaking, you could find a great example within Scorsese's gangster movie to illustrate to them simply and wonderfully what it was, be it a tracking shot, a pan, types of editing, great cinematography, use of music and sound, etc. It truly was a wonder to behold.
When I recently marked the 25th anniversary of After Hours, I noted that in the DVD extras Scorsese mentioned that part of what attracted him to that film was his negative experience of living in the lower Manhattan area of Tribeca and it seems to me that while
Scorsese can't not be a talented filmmaker, no matter what the material is, what lifts some of his films above the others is an unmistakably personal connection and that's most decidedly the case with Goodfellas. He may never have been in the mob, but he grew up on those Brooklyn streets in that time period, so he knows it well. After the brief prologue previewing the murder of Billy Batts (Frank Vincent) and the initial Saul and Elaine Bass opening credits, with its zooming words braking from side to side before stopping in the middle, the very first shot he gives us is a close-up of the eye of the 13-year-old Henry Hill looking out his window with wonder at the wiseguys across the street at the cabstand. The eyes may as well be Scorsese's, even if the narration belongs to the adult Henry (Ray Liotta). Though they like to call the three films an unofficial trilogy, this is why Mean Streets and Goodfellas are great and Casino doesn't work. Scorsese relates to the worlds of Charlie and Henry Hill, but the world of Ace Rothstein is an alien one so, combined with the familiar and unimaginative casting, Casino just plays like an uninspired retread.
When I was a kid, it was not unusual for me to go see films I was crazy about multiple times in the theater. Most were the usual suspects such as the original Star Wars trilogy, Grease — movies that I'd see again and again with new companions or relatives or even by myself. However, as I grew older and started reviewing (and tried to review just about everything out there, heaven help me), once was enough. Goodfellas became a glorious exception as I saw that four times in the theater in its original release, dragging new people to it to share in its wonder (usually following the film with an Italian meal). In the years since, it's become one of those films that if I flipped past it on TV, I'd inevitably watch it despite the cropping and censoring. Sitting down to watch the DVD of it for this piece was the first time in a while that I'd seen it unexpurgated and in its proper ratio. It excited me in a way that cut-up partial viewings had failed to do. It always was great, but it renewed in me how magnificent an example of moviemaking it remains.
It's also fascinating to watch the entire film again in the wake of The Sopranos which, let's admit it, probably never would have existed without Goodfellas. Granted, no one in Scorsese's film seeks psychiatric help, but it sets the template of the balancing of domestic life with criminal life. At one point, Henry's wife Karen
(Lorraine Bracco) actually says in voiceover on their wedding day that it's like Henry had two families, the exact theme of the original Sopranos promos. One big difference though concerns lifestyle: While the real-life gangsters whose story Goodfellas tells always have money, they don't live like rich suburban kings the way they do on The Sopranos. I think that's one reason the HBO series references The Godfather films more frequently since the Corleones resided in mansions. Even Paul Cicero (Paul Sorvino), the boss of the Goodfellas family, resides in a rather humble abode compared to a Tony Soprano or Johnny Sack. When Karen Hill says that none of it seemed like crime, it just seemed like their husbands were regular, blue collar guys, her words contain more than a grain of truth. I do think a drinking game could be invented out of watching Goodfellas though: Take a shot every time you spot an actor or actress who later appears on The Sopranos. A cursory check of IMDb (until I got too tired) discovered 17 in parts of all sizes. For the record, the first one to spot is Tony Sirico (Paulie Walnuts on The Sopranos) who plays one of the wiseguys who get out of the car and go into Tuddy's cabstand as young Henry watches from his window.Since I've brought up Bracco, the performer with the most prominent roles in both Goodfellas and The Sopranos, this does make it as
good as time as any to point out the unusual role of Karen Hill in Goodfellas. Until Karen enters the film, Goodfellas basically functions as a first-person account of Henry Hill telling us his story through voiceover. When Karen arrives, suddenly we have a second narrator, something that's unusual for a film, though not unprecedented. At first, having a second disembodied voice tell the story jars the viewer a bit, but it doesn't take long to get used to it. The dual narrations don't really contradict each other, but it's interesting to hear both points-of-view during a conversation. (In a way, it's reminiscent of the subtitles translating Alvy and Annie's small talk in Annie Hall.) Though Bracco earned a well-deserved Oscar
nomination, she doesn't get the praise she deserves, especially since this came two years after her great work in Someone to Watch Over Me. It also goes without saying how many light years of difference there is between Karen Hill and Jennifer Melfi. Goodfellas gave her the opportunity to stretch her acting muscles much further than the television series, especially as it dragged on and found it harder to keep involving her in the story. In Goodfellas though, you get to see her euphoria as she twirls at her wedding and takes in the new universe she's entering as well as her anger of Henry's cheating, to the point that she pulls a gun on him, though she admits in voiceover she could never hurt him if she couldn't even leave him. That scene leaves her sprawled on the floor by the bed, screaming she's sorry. Bracco proves pretty amazing. As great as Melfi was, it would be nice to see her get a role this rich again.Ray Liotta, so great as Henry, hasn't had the career he deserves. Since his breakout role as Melanie Griffith's psychotic ex in Jonathan Demme's Something Wild, which was followed up soon after by Goodfellas, he really hasn't had a chance at another great role to live up to those early successes. He's so good here and he more than holds his own with Robert De Niro's Jimmy Conway, one of the last times De
Niro turned in a performance that wasn't over-the-top or just seemed as if he's going through the motions; and with the scene-stealing, Oscar-winning turn of Joe Pesci. I checked IMDb to see what Liotta has been up to since the most recent movie I recalled Liotta appearing in was his role as the cop in the twisted mess Observe and Report with Seth Rogen. One of Liotta's most recent credits includes portraying the principal on an episode of TV's Hannah Montana. How depressing. Early in the run of The Sopranos, reports claimed that he turned down a two-season part. I'm guessing because of the length of the role and the time I read the report that he might have been Ralph Cifaretto, but could anyone picture someone other Joe Pantoliano in that part now? Still, it's puzzling how someone as talented as Liotta hasn't earned better roles after Henry Hill. He perfectly played his ability to charm his way out of problems, to laugh at the horrors he witnesses but still maintain the ability to be shocked when they go too far. He even gets drug addiction to boot. As the first person narrator, the weight of the film's story falls on his shoulders and he carries it with ease, fun and grace, yet somehow Liotta gets left out of the film's acclaim.
Which brings us to Pesci, who not only won a well-deserved Oscar as Tommy Devito, but really provides most of the moments of the movie that resonate throughout pop culture, even by people who have never seen Goodfellas. In fact, though he appears in the pre-credit prologue, the first time we see a grown Tommy and Pesci gets dialogue of any length it is the infamous, "What makes me so funny?" bit at the Bamboo Lounge. It's not only entertaining and a classic moment in film history, it quickly establishes Tommy's unstable nature and Pesci's frightening ability to change demeanor in a split-second. First, he's being scary, then he admits he's joking, then he's terrorizing the restaurant's owner (Tony Darrow) and a waiter and then it's back to kidding
around with no pauses in between. While you do see a bit of the adult Henry in the young Henry (Christopher Serrone), the young Tommy (Joe D'Onofrio) gives no such clues, though I suspect that may have been intentional. While Pesci's performance can be thought of just switching between the frightening and the funny, he does give Tommy other shadings as well. You see that when he does explode in unjustified rage, as he does against Billy Batts or the poor bartender Spider (Michael Imperioli), it stems from insecurity. (Of course, Imperioli got to pay homage to getting shot in the foot in The Sopranos' first season episode "The Legend of Tennessee Moltisanti" when Christopher feels similarly slighted by a clerk at a pastry store.) You also see the pride when he believes he's about to be made. We don't know what Tommy's upbringing was like, but we can guess that he's someone who craves praise and only knows how to earn it through comedy or bullying. You also see that moment of realization when he enters the empty room to be made and knows his life is about to end. He also loves his mom, so we're probably safe in guessing that it's his never-mentioned father who left the emotional scars.
Pesci provides so many of the movie's memorable moments, that I'd feel remiss (if only to myself) if I didn't single out the middle of the Billy Batts sequence. The attack proves brutal enough, though it's beautiful in its own way as Pesci and De Niro punch, pummel and kick Frank Vincent to the sounds of Donovan's "Atlantis." Actually, the film history of Pesci and Vincent amuses on its own. Pesci basically had
abandoned his plans for an acting career but had made a 1976 film called The Death Collector, which is what Scorsese spotted and led him to cast him in Raging Bull. In that film, he beats Vincent to death. In Raging Bull, they needed an actor for a part where Pesci's character lashes out and does some physical damage so the first person they thought of was Vincent. When the Billy Batts part came about for Goodfellas, they thought why not let Joe do some damage to Frank again? Vincent did get his revenge in Casino though, playing the character who kills Pesci's character. Anyway, with Batts in the trunk, Henry, Tommy and Jimmy stop at Tommy's mom' house to get a shovel. His mom, played by Scorsese's real-life mom Catherine, wakes up and insists on feeding them. She interrogates her son as to why he can't be like Henry and get himself a nice girl. "I get a nice one almost every night," he replies. She corrects herself that she means to settle down and he again says, "I settle down almost every night, but then in the morning I'm free." Then his mom brings out one of the paintings she's been working on and I don't know why, but it always has struck me and a former friend of mine as tremendously funny. As Tommy describes it, "One dog's looking east, one dog's looking west and the man's saying, 'What do you want from me?'" It cracks me up every time. The movie also sprinkles a lot of throwaway lines, some barely audible, some by minor characters that are very funny that viewers should keep their ears peeled for such as Tommy arguing with Frankie Carbone (Frank Sivero) about Frankie never being able to hit a certain number. Another great aside comes when Tommy's girlfriend (Illeana Douglas) brags to Jimmy's wife Mickey (Julie Garfield) that she's serious — if Tommy even caught her looking at another man, he'd kill her and Mickey meekly smiles and replies, "Great."
De Niro received an Oscar nomination in 1990, but it wasn't for his great work as "Jimmy the Gent" Conway, but for Awakenings. Put those performances side by side and, honestly, see which film you think he really gave the best performance in. It's not that De Niro has been turning in bad performances, but the amazing work of the hungry young actor certainly hasn't been present much in the past 20 years or so. The following year, re-teaming with Scorsese, he gave an entertaining but scenery devouring turn in the Cape Fear remake. Really though, since Goodfellas, I'd only count Heat and Wag the Dog as truly impressive work by De Niro (and I'm being generous) but it came alongside embarrassments such as Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle. In other films, he turned in fine, workman-like performances that smelled suspiciously as if they
were being done for the money. This wasn't the case with Goodfellas where De Niro took a role that could have seemed routine for him and infused it with freshness and perfectly completed the film's male triumvirate. De Niro shows Jimmy's aging over the 25 year time span subtly and without the hindrance of any awful makeup. He's a welcome contrast to hothead Tommy, though he can be just as brutal if you get him started, but he holds himself back because he's marter and more cool-headed; when he kills, it's just business. One of the most impressive things De Niro does here (and in other films) and that most of the greats do is the way they manipulate props. Just watch him pour ketchup from a bottle or slightly tilt his drink and head while telling Batts that he did insult Tommy a little or something as simple as the way he lets his eyeglasses slip as he tries to get information out of Karen over what Henry may have said to the police after his arrest — these touches aren't necessary but they make scenes even more realistic. I really miss the De Niro who put that much effort into a role.
While Goodfellas boasts an exceptionally large cast, there really is only one other character large enough to be of separate note and that's Paul Sorvino as Paul Cicero, the boss of this particular Brooklyn crime family. One thing I've never quite understood about this film (or Casino for that matter) both of which were based on nonfiction books by Nicholas Pileggi, who in both instances co-wrote the screenplays, change the names of the
real-life people for the movies with the exception of Henry Hill. Cicero, for instance, was really Paul Vario, Jimmy Conway was Jimmy Burke and Tommy Devito's real name was Tommy DeSimone. Still, most of the events described in the movie are true, though a few have been changed or omitted. Sorvino does well as the strong but quiet Paulie, though the movie's portrayal is at odds with descriptions of the real life Vario. However, he is integral as a representation of two important parts of the mob culture: the older generation's reluctance to engage in the drug trade and that food, oh that glorious food. Sorvino later had regrets about the portrayal of Italian Americans as gangsters (though he also played one in The Firm) and swore he'd never play one again before starring in a short-lived TV series about non-mob-involved Italian Americans called That's Life. Sorvino's moratorium didn't last long: a year later he appeared as a mobster again in the TV movie Mafia Doctor. I have Italian blood in my lineage, but I've never had the reaction some do to stories about the Mafia. It's just a historical fact: Italians made up the mob, but it doesn't mean that all Italians were in the mob and some Italian Americans just need to lighten up and remember that the person who started the anti-defamation efforts on behalf of Italian Americans was Joe Colombo, himself a gangster. In fact, Paul Vario was part of Colombo's anti-defamation group until he resigned because he feared it was drawing too much attention to their "business" activities.As you can probably guess, my answer to that heading is Scorsese himself, since I consider Goodfellas to be the director's greatest film in a career filled with great films. I think the timing proved particularly auspicious for him to make Goodfellas. He'd re-energized himself with After Hours and three years later finally realized his longtime dream to bring Nikos Kazantzakis' novel The Last Temptation of Christ to the screen. Except for the lark of "Life Lessons," his segment (the best one) of New York Stories, Goodfellas would be the very next film he produced and it seemed as if he were at the peaks of his powers. As I mentioned earlier, watching Goodfellas seems as if you are attending film school in about 2 hours and 20 minutes since he displays practically every filmmaking technique possible. More importantly, they aren't used to call attention to themselves. He employs them because they are the best way to illustrate the scene and story he wants to convey at that time.
The sequences that Scorsese concocts with his collaborators such as film editor Schoonmaker and director of photography Michael Ballhaus, the temptation for me would be just to show, not tell, but despite searching the Web far and wide, Warner Bros. seems to have done a good job at preventing people from embedding clips from the film. That's fine. In the end, I'm a man of words anyway, even if language can't do justice to what Scorsese has assembled. Take for instance what's probably the film's most infamous sequence: the heralded Copacabana tracking shot. It's an amazing, unbroken take that begins outside the club as Henry escorts Karen on one of their first real solo dates and, eager to impress, guides her past the long line of people waiting to get in through a basement entrance and a labyrinthine
passage of rooms and the kitchen (where everyone knows him) until they find their way to the main room and the maitre'd sets up a special table for them right near the stage. An overwhelmed Karen asks Henry what it is he does for a living and he answers, "construction." She feels his hands and doubts his story to which he responds, "I'm a union delegate." This bravura sequence isn't just a stunt: It's a great piece of filmmaking illustrating how much power this 21-year-old man holds in this area and how enchanted his date is with his pull. Compare this to when someone such as Brian De Palma tries to do long tracking shots in Bonfire of the Vanities or Snake Eyes, which he admits he's doing to try to show Scorsese up, and it shows because those are stunts that add nothing to those films. In contrast, another talented director, Robert Altman, did a great eight-minute scene in one take, though not technically a tracking shot, to open The Player that simultaneously comments on tracking shots 
and the growing tendency of Hollywood movies to overwhelm images with cuts and avoid long takes. Back to the Copacabana scene for a moment. One thing that doesn't get mentioned is the great transition he uses to end the shot and move on to the next scene. The Copacabana tracking shot ends with Henny Youngman on stage performing his act then we move to Idlewild airport where Henry and Tommy are preparing to pull off the Air France heist and Youngman's jokes continue on the soundtrack as the transition between the two locations. It's brilliant. It's just one example out of many of inspired transitions he employs either by use of sound or visuals. Another favorite of mine is when Henry gives a pistol-whipping to Karen's neighbor who got rough with her when she wouldn't put out and then Henry gives Karen the gun to hide. Her placing the gun in a metal box segues immediately to a rabbi covering a glass with a napkin and the couple stepping on it, officially becoming married, joined together in the eyes of God and in the commission of a crime.Of course, that's hardly the only bravura sequence Scorsese and crew conjures for this masterpiece. In the DVD extras for After Hours, Michael Ballhaus, told how Scorsese gave him a shot list, a list that came from pseudo-storyboards that Scorsese drew on the script itself.
You know the phrase "the devil's in the details" but for Scorsese, it's the filmmaking and it's that attention to even the smallest bit that makes him one of our greatest. Take that early opening scene of young Henry watching out his window with fascination as the wiseguys pile out of their car to enter the cabstand for a night of cards or whatever. He doesn't have to add much to explain that scene, but he puts in the subtle little touches that bring it alive: Focusing on the pinky rings of the gangster's hands; watching as the classic car rises as the men exit it. Then there is the wonderful moment late in the film when a nervous Henry, after having been busted for his drug dealing, meets with Jimmy in a diner for fear he'd get killed anywhere else. It starts with a tracking shot from the diner's entrance to the booth where Jimmy is then Scorsese employs a reverse pan so that while Jimmy and Henry seem to stay where they are, the cars and objects outside the window seem to come nearer, as if the world is closing in. The middle of the conversation even tosses in a couple of freeze frames before reversing the reverse at the end again. Sequence after sequence, shot after shot, Scorsese simply takes your breath away in this film and it's part of the reason it requires repeat viewings: To appreciate it all: The story, the craftsmanship, the acting.Then there is the food, that glorious food. Talk about scrumptious details. The entire prison sequence showing how Henry, Paulie, Vinnie (played by Scorsese's father, Charles) and others, prepare for meals that would make free people salivate. With the details of how Paulie
slices the garlic, Vinnie makes his sauce ("Don't put too many onions in there!") — is there anyone wonder that every time I saw the film in its original release a trip to an Italian restaurant was not far behind? On top of that, the entire sequence is set to the background music of Bobby Darin's "Beyond the Sea." Another genius of Scorsese. There is no original score, but the film boasts nearly wall-to-wall music, appropriate for its time span of 1955-1980. I've already referred to the Billy Batts' beating being backed by Donovan's "Atlantis" (Way down below the ocean where I wanna be she may be), but I neglected to mention that the incredible Copacabana tracking shot was set to "Then He Kissed Me" by The Crystals. To start with Tony Bennett singing "Rags to Riches" and end with Sid Vicious warbling "My Way" — that's one eclectic score. Some have referred to Mean Streets as the flip side of American Graffiti, given the age of the characters and the fact both came out in the same year, but really it's Goodfellas that is the gangster version of American Graffiti, it just doesn't have the conceit of the songs coming through car radios being introduced by Wolfman Jack.
As great a feat of movie magic as the Copa scene is, including its use of music, the absolute highlight of the film, at least in terms of using one piece of music, concerns the aftermath of the famed Lufthansa heist. Jimmy starts getting both nervous about the actions of the people who carried out the job (and greedy as well), so he finds it more fortuitous to cut all his ties by killing all of them. The sequence showing the discovery of the various corpses starts slowly, almost innocently, as some kids who appear to have been playing stick ball stumble upon a pink Cadillac. It's the same car Jimmy had chewed one of the men out for having bought on the night of the robbery and told him to get rid of. Then the music begins and it's the wonderful piano exit to "Layla" by Derek and the Dominoes (for the young'uns out there, Eric Clapton's old band) and you see close up the slain bodies of Johnny Roastbeef and his wife. The Cadillac's sales sticker remains on the passenger window. The song and Liotta's narration goes on as we see bodies falls in garbage trucks and discovered frozen in meat tracks. It's a perfect pop score for such a grisly sequence.
When I was in fifth grade, our music teacher assigned groups to create mix tapes that would splice together parts of different songs into some kind of creative collage. I'm not sure what inspired her to give us this project but that's how one of Scorsese's other great Goodfellas sequences plays, where he manages to depict about 16 hours of time in a day in 10 minutes of screentime with brilliant editing and constant changing of the music he's using in the sequence. It covers the last day before Henry's arrest on drug charges. He's drugged out on cocaine and convinced that a helicopter is following him. He has a busy day of errands: bringing guns to Jimmy, meeting his Pittsburgh drug connection to prepare a shipment that his nanny will take on a flight out of state, pick up his handicapped brother (Kevin Corrigan) from the hospital to bring home for dinner, help prepare dinner and placate his mistress (Debi Mazar). It's a daylong frenzy and it feels like it. The first time I actually timed it, I was shocked to realize that it only took 10 minutes because so much is going on at such a manic pace, it seemed an impossibility. With his use of so many different songs in the sequence, it's almost like one of those radio contests where they play short snippets of songs and callers have to identify them for a prize. Maybe that's where my music teacher got the idea.
I could go on endlessly about this film because for me it's as infectious to talk or write about as it is to watch. Pretty much without options, Henry and Karen Hill had to become government witnesses and go into the Witness Protection Program. They later divorced. During the trial sequence, as Henry testfies against Jimmy and Paulie, Scorsese even breaks the fourth wall, having Henry step off the witness stand and speak directly to the camera. He admits that what he misses most is the lifestyle. He later got into trouble again and was kicked out of the program. In the film, his last line is that he'd be forced to live the rest of his life as a schnook. Twenty years later, that is very true for Henry Hill. You can befriend him on Facebook. I wonder if he plays Mafia Wars. The real Jimmy and Paulie both died in prison as old men.
The movie about Henry Hill's life will outlast him by many, many years, as will the name Martin Scorsese. One of his quick final shots pays homage both to the gangster movies of the past and the infamous opening of Edwin S. Porter's The Great Train Robbery of 1903. That's why Scorsese is such a master. He doesn't just know how to make great films or how to relate to them personally, he's like an encyclopeda of film history. He's also more than willing to dive into something new, which he will be doing tonight as he becomes executive producer of a dramatic series for television for the first time and directs the pilot for HBO's Boardwalk Empire starring Steve Buscemi. (I've seen the first six episodes and it's very good.) That's why I love him and that's why I love Goodfellas.
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Labels: 90s, Altman, Boardwalk Empire, Buscemi, De Niro, De Palma, Demme, HBO, Liotta, Movie Tributes, Pesci, Scorsese, Seth Rogen, Star Wars, Television, The Sopranos, Zemeckis
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Friday, October 09, 2009
Taxing driver
By Edward Copeland
"When I Paint My Masterpiece" is one of my favorite Bob Dylan songs, even if I prefer his version to the cover by The Band that opens Observe and Report. It's a strange musical choice to open the movie, but then almost every choice made in writer-director Jody Hill's film is an odd one.
When this Seth Rogen vehicle opened earlier this year, much was made of the scene where Rogen's character basically rapes an unconscious Anna Faris, but I'm not so sure why that scene leaped out as disturbing when most of the tone of the film up to that point has been disturbing. I think Hill set out to make a jet black comedy only most of the comedy got left out and what's left is a fractured, uneven tale that I imagine might resemble what a long 1970s-style Dick Cavett interview with Crispin Glover would look like.
Rogen stars as Ronnie Barnhardt, head of security at a suburban mall afflicted with a parking lot flasher. To say Ronnie is wound tight is an understatement. He views the mall as his kingdom, the cosmetics girl (Faris) as his secret love and his word as the law. While Rogen can be hysterical, he plays it straight and it's only late in the film that it explicitly spells out that Ronnie suffers from bipolar disorder. Prior to that, you think you're just watching an unfunny, dry spoof of Travis Bickle, but the way the film is made, it's not designed to laugh at Ronnie or to feel sympathy for him either.
Rogen gives such a fierce, committed performance as Ronnie that you wish he was in a better movie. In fact, all the actors seem adrift in their own separate movies that somehow have been poured together in some kitchen sink to form an alcoholic jungle juice concoction at a high school party being held while the parents are out of town.
Michael Pena gets some funny moments as another mall guard and seems to be in a subtler comedy. Celia Weston can unfurl her comic talents in her sleep and does it again as Rogen's boozy mom, but again she seems out of another film. Ray Liotta plays his role as a police detective hampered by Rogen's delusions pretty straight, almost as if he realizes Ronnie is a psycho and this shouldn't be a funny movie. Faris seems to be doing an amalgamation of many of her past roles.
While you can't say that anyone gives a bad performance, they are all hostage to a screenplay that just doesn't know what the hell it wants to be. Then, to make matters worse, it tries to slap somewhat of a happy ending on the whole mess, even if it is a happy ending tinged with anger. Someone should have observed this film much more closely as it was being made and report to people in charge that a disaster was at hand.
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Labels: 00s, Dylan, Liotta, Seth Rogen
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Tuesday, August 18, 2009
A Laugh an Inch
By Jonathan PachecoProbably the most famous thing about Woody Allen’s 1980 film Stardust Memories is the self-referential recurring joke of fans telling a filmmaker that they prefer his “earlier, funnier movies” to his more artistic efforts. Take the Money and Run is Allen’s directorial debut (after he virtually disowned What’s Up, Tiger Lily?), and serves as the epitome of the comic’s “earlier, funnier” era. The film is a parade of pure silliness, utilizing the type of humor I find endearing in the director’s older films but annoying in his recent efforts; I easily forget that this zaniness is still an integral part of Allen’s personality. Take the Money and Run is Allen before the trademark title card and Windsor font, before his patented “neurotic Jew” persona, before the incredibly long takes and beautifully understated cinematography. This is Allen 40 years ago.
In the mockumentary Take the Money and Run, Woody Allen plays Virgil Starkwell, a robber so incompetent you wonder why anyone would care to chronicle his life. In an attempt to escape prison, Virgil fashions a fake gun out of a block of soap, but walks out into the pouring rain only to be left with a handful of bubbly suds. When he tries to rob a bank using a threatening note, the teller instead argues with him about his handwriting. His parents wear Groucho Marx disguises out of shame during interviews.
Voice-over narration drives most of the film — particularly the first half — as we’re taken through Virgil’s history as an inept criminal. With the narrator doing most of the talking, the action on screen requires little dialogue, turning the film into something of a silent comedy. Despite being such a talker, Woody Allen loves the silent brand of humor, and plays it up in Take the Money and Run. It’s all in the way he moves his arms, shoulders, and face.
The heavy narration also allows the film to fly through the plot, and for a while, the film exists as a long string of quick setups and crisp zingers. The director hoped for every inch of the film to be a laugh, so the script wastes little time when jumping from joke to joke. It can be quite jarring to see a Woody Allen film moving along at such a rapid pace. Instead of 14-second shots (the average length in Annie Hall), Take the Money and Run features quick cuts lasting only a second or two before the film moves on to something else. The movie eventually slows down and you begin to catch signs of Allen’s future style at an early stage. Jokes are set up with more dialogue and scenes last a little long, using single takes. This pace difference creates a slight imbalance, but the contrast fascinates when you compare it with the director’s cinematic evolution over that past four decades.
These days, a good comedy provides its audience with plenty of hearty laughs, but is lucky to offer even just one show-stopping moment, causing that uncontrollable nearly-epic laughter, the kind that draws looks from other audience members. It’s the kind of laughter that causes you to miss the next bits of dialogue because you can’t hear over your own guffaws. It’s the kind that still has you chuckling three or four scenes later. Take the Money and Run provides not one, but several of these moments, some of which I remembered about and still laughed at uncontrollably. It makes sense that the film could have so many explosive moments, as it packs so many punch-lines into such a short running time. I see it almost like the filmmaker’s career: he makes so many movies that he’s bound to land a couple of great ones just from the law of averages alone.
These show-stopping moments are not just funny because the situations are absurd; they’re funny because Allen’s character is so sincere in these ridiculous circumstances. Virgil driving a car inside of a house trying to kill a woman but never breaking anything is pretty funny. What makes it outrageously funny is the brief shot of his face as he chases the woman, almost blank with determination. When Virgil plays cello for a marching band, it’s his earnest but unsuccessful attempt to play his instrument that makes me laugh, even as he must pick up his chair and move it along with the band every few seconds. When he tries to smuggle guard uniforms out of the prison laundry room by putting them on under his own clothes, his outrageously puffed up appearance is only half the joke, the other half being the self-congratulatory smirk on his face. Different people tell jokes in different ways. Some laugh with you the entire time they relay the story, barely able to finish telling it; Seth Rogen or Will Ferrell films usually exude that same personality. Take the Money and Run, with its pseudo-documentary style, is the straight-faced joker. His words are silly, absurd, and hilarious, but his face is always serious, making the story that much funnier.
Once Annie Hall took off in 1977, it seemed that Woody Allen’s style and persona were set in this perfect balance of comedy and bittersweet insight. For too long, any deviations to the more slapstick or dramatic were seen as detours from the “right path for him.” To remember Take the Money and Run, in all of its unapologetic wackiness, imperfect freneticism, and simple endearment, is to remember a time when the director was unafraid to let his nutty side out. Allen’s no longer the same man who made the “earlier, funnier movies,” but he’s still got that side in him.
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Labels: 60s, Movie Tributes, Seth Rogen, Woody
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Friday, March 06, 2009
Chasing Chasing Amy
By Edward Copeland
I like Kevin Smith and I'm not ashamed to admit it. Even though I've only met him once, I liked him as a person. Despite the fact that he's made far more movies I've been disappointed in than I've liked, I still look forward to his films, silently rooting for him, hoping that this movie will be the one that brings back the filmmaker I admired in the first place. Unfortunately, Zack and Miri Make a Porno is not that movie.
In a strange way, Zack and Miri seems as if Smith is trying to make a Judd Apatow movie. He certainly has plenty of Apatow alums in the cast, but the film doesn't work as an Apatow homage any better than it does as a Kevin Smith film.
The plot is simple: Seth Rogen and Elizabeth Banks play the title characters, lifelong platonic friends who share an apartment and the bills. Unfortunately for them, they get far behind and have their electricity and water cut off. After a visit to their 10th high school reunion (which is really the film's funniest sequence, especially thanks to a cameo by Justin Long), Zack gets the bright idea of making a cheap porno film to help finance their continued existence.
Of course, it's a crazy idea. Making a porno to pay for the utilities on a crappy apartment while they continue to work at a low-paying jobs is absurd to say the least. However, I'd let that go if Smith's writing was sharp and funny like I know it can be, but Smith's script seems lazy here. It left me with a feeling of sadness instead of giving me lots of laughs.
I know Smith still has it in him, even if it has been 12 years since he moved to a new level with Chasing Amy, I still have faith in him. I fear he was scarred by the Jersey Girl experience and its Ben Affleck-J-Lo sideshow.
Perhaps it is time for Smith to stretch his skills to a different genre and steer clear of relationship movies for awhile, just to see what happens. I know you can do it, Kevin. Don't waste your time on films such as Zack and Miri. Your lack of enthusiasm is showing.
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Labels: 00s, Apatow, B. Affleck, Kevin Smith, Seth Rogen
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Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Someone needs a trim
By Edward Copeland
In many ways, some movies need to be rated on separate scales: the number of laughs they produce and as a movie as a whole. Such is the case with Superbad, which like most recent productions coming out of the Judd Apatow comedy factory, contains a lot of big belly laughs. Unfortunately, great gags, even multitudes of them, aren't enough glue to hold together Superbad as a movie.
Apatow continues to build a repertory company of actors he loves to employ again and again from his TV days on Freaks and Geeks and Undeclared, always adding a few new names to the troupe even as he hands the directing chores in Superbad over to Greg Mottola (The Daytrippers).
Look closely to see TV regulars or guest stars from the series such as Martin Starr, Carlo Gallo, Kevin Corrigan and David Krumholtz. Steve Bannos, Mr. Kowchevski on Freaks and Geeks, even gets to return to the profession of math teacher and Clement Blake, so memorable as the older party crasher in the "Beers and Weirs" episode of Freaks gets to play a similar role here.
The semiautobiographical screenplay was written by Seth Rogen and his longtime friend Evan Goldberg, so much so that the lead characters played by Jonah Hill and Michael Cera, even share their first names. In fact, Rogen and Goldberg began writing the script when they were teenagers. I wrote a novel when I was in high school, but it's locked safely in the attic. I'm sure it has some positive attributes, such as Superbad does, but not all things need to see the light of day or the screens of movie theaters.
Superbad follows a similar template to The 40-Year-Old Virgin and Knocked Up by presenting truly vulgar comedy that almost makes you feel ashamed for laughing so hard at it and mixing it with a healthy dose of sweetness.
It also treads territory similar to films such as American Pie, though with a bit more success. In this case, the story follows a more traditional movie genre: teens trying to get laid. Seth (Hill) and Evan (Cera) are wrapping up their high school days and looking ahead to the separation college will force on them, since Evan has been accepted to Dartmouth and Seth will be stuck going to a state school.
Both are afraid of being separated, but neither is comfortable admitting it so instead they focus on final days of partying and girlchasing. That's basically the loosest of threads Superbad is hung on: A journey to procure liquor and get to a party where the would-be objects of their affections await.
Unfortunately, Superbad suffers from what Knocked Up suffered from and what The 40-Year-Old Virgin amazingly got away with: It's too damn long for this sort of comedy, so it inevitably sags at times. There really needed to be a strong editing hand to tighten the movie so the laughs were plentiful enough to make the whole thing work instead of ending up as a mixed bag.
Still, Superbad has two things that definitely are in its favor: Michael Cera and newcomer Christopher Mintz-Plasse.
Cera, so great as George-Michael on the much-missed TV show Arrested Development, proves that his skills as a straight man on that sitcom were no fluke. Cera shows signs of being able to give the best deadpan delivery of his generation (and probably several ahead of him).
Mintz-Plasse is a true find. Some stock characters such as the dumb blonde or the ubergeek have been used so often, it's still surprising when someone can put such fresh spins on the stereotypes to make them seem new again and that certainly is the case with Mintz-Plasse. While most of his scenes end up being with a pair of cops (Rogen, Bill Hader) that seem to belong to another movie, his energetic and delightful performance make it all worthwhile.
It's hard to make a clear call on Superbad: If you go expecting to laugh a lot, odds are you will. If you go hoping for a truly great comedy that also works as a film, you'll probably be disappointed.
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TO READ ON, CLICK HERE
In many ways, some movies need to be rated on separate scales: the number of laughs they produce and as a movie as a whole. Such is the case with Superbad, which like most recent productions coming out of the Judd Apatow comedy factory, contains a lot of big belly laughs. Unfortunately, great gags, even multitudes of them, aren't enough glue to hold together Superbad as a movie.
Apatow continues to build a repertory company of actors he loves to employ again and again from his TV days on Freaks and Geeks and Undeclared, always adding a few new names to the troupe even as he hands the directing chores in Superbad over to Greg Mottola (The Daytrippers).
Look closely to see TV regulars or guest stars from the series such as Martin Starr, Carlo Gallo, Kevin Corrigan and David Krumholtz. Steve Bannos, Mr. Kowchevski on Freaks and Geeks, even gets to return to the profession of math teacher and Clement Blake, so memorable as the older party crasher in the "Beers and Weirs" episode of Freaks gets to play a similar role here.
The semiautobiographical screenplay was written by Seth Rogen and his longtime friend Evan Goldberg, so much so that the lead characters played by Jonah Hill and Michael Cera, even share their first names. In fact, Rogen and Goldberg began writing the script when they were teenagers. I wrote a novel when I was in high school, but it's locked safely in the attic. I'm sure it has some positive attributes, such as Superbad does, but not all things need to see the light of day or the screens of movie theaters.
Superbad follows a similar template to The 40-Year-Old Virgin and Knocked Up by presenting truly vulgar comedy that almost makes you feel ashamed for laughing so hard at it and mixing it with a healthy dose of sweetness.
It also treads territory similar to films such as American Pie, though with a bit more success. In this case, the story follows a more traditional movie genre: teens trying to get laid. Seth (Hill) and Evan (Cera) are wrapping up their high school days and looking ahead to the separation college will force on them, since Evan has been accepted to Dartmouth and Seth will be stuck going to a state school.
Both are afraid of being separated, but neither is comfortable admitting it so instead they focus on final days of partying and girlchasing. That's basically the loosest of threads Superbad is hung on: A journey to procure liquor and get to a party where the would-be objects of their affections await.
Unfortunately, Superbad suffers from what Knocked Up suffered from and what The 40-Year-Old Virgin amazingly got away with: It's too damn long for this sort of comedy, so it inevitably sags at times. There really needed to be a strong editing hand to tighten the movie so the laughs were plentiful enough to make the whole thing work instead of ending up as a mixed bag.
Still, Superbad has two things that definitely are in its favor: Michael Cera and newcomer Christopher Mintz-Plasse.
Cera, so great as George-Michael on the much-missed TV show Arrested Development, proves that his skills as a straight man on that sitcom were no fluke. Cera shows signs of being able to give the best deadpan delivery of his generation (and probably several ahead of him).
Mintz-Plasse is a true find. Some stock characters such as the dumb blonde or the ubergeek have been used so often, it's still surprising when someone can put such fresh spins on the stereotypes to make them seem new again and that certainly is the case with Mintz-Plasse. While most of his scenes end up being with a pair of cops (Rogen, Bill Hader) that seem to belong to another movie, his energetic and delightful performance make it all worthwhile.
It's hard to make a clear call on Superbad: If you go expecting to laugh a lot, odds are you will. If you go hoping for a truly great comedy that also works as a film, you'll probably be disappointed.
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Labels: 00s, Apatow, Jonah Hill, Michael Cera, Seth Rogen
TO READ ON, CLICK HERE
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Freaks & Geeks shall inherit the mirth
By Edward Copeland
Judd Apatow seems to defy just about everything one might hold true about certain forms of comedy. By and large, I subscribe to Jeffrey's 90-minute rule that comedies pushing their luck if they extend much past that running time, but Apatow provided a glowing exception to that rule with The 40-Year-Old-Virgin, the most I've laughed at a recent movie in ages. Then on top of that, he now seems to specialize in extremely vulgar comedies that, at their heart, hide family friendly messages: staying pure until marriage in the case of Virgin and now staying together for the sake of an unexpected baby in Knocked Up. Unfortunately, while Virgin manages to keep its momentum throughout its long running time, Knocked Up doesn't bear its extra frames as well, coming off as a bit flabby. Despite its need for some judicious trimming, it's still ends up as an entertaining way to spend your time.
One thing proving so special about Apatow's films, especially for fans of his great and short-lived TV series Freaks & Geeks and Undeclared, is his penchant for bringing back his extended family time and again, making each enterprise feel as if you've been invited to the reunion as well. Seth Rogen, part of the great ensembles of both Freaks and Undeclared, gets the lead role of Ben Stone in Knocked Up, a stoner/slacker who believes that "weed cures everything" and lives off the dwindling proceeds of a postal truck accident with dreams of an Internet fortune made from a Web site that tracks nude scenes in movies.
Other Apatow alumni along for this ride include Jason Segel (also of both Freaks and Undeclared), Jay Baruchel (Undeclared), Martin Starr (Freaks), Apatow's real-life wife Leslie Mann and two who have joined his creative clan in his films, Paul Rudd and Jonah Hill. Loudon Wainwright III of Undeclared even pops up briefly and provides part of the score and Freaks alum James Franco makes a good-natured cameo as himself. Knocked Up feels as if you're being welcomed home, but that doesn't give it an automatic pass: It still must work as a movie as well and while most of it does, it doesn't quite hit all its marks.
As most should know by now, the premise involves drunken sex between Ben and the in-normal-circumstances unattainable babe Allison (Katherine Heigl), just promoted to on-air talent at E!, that results in an unexpected pregnancy. (The E! setting also provides a priceless Ryan Seacrest cameo, showing that he's got great humor about himself.) In fact, Allison's extreme denial early on prompts her sister (the great Mann) to ask if she's one of those women who won't realize she's pregnant until she's on the toilet and a baby falls out.
So, with great hesitancy, Allison shares the situation with an understandably shocked Ben. However, he then embraces the idea of a pending spawn, even though he's nowhere near ready for any responsibility. Ben seeks advice from his thrice-married dad (Harold Ramis) who tells him that he's the best thing that ever happened to him, which Ben says only makes him feel sad for him.
The rocky relationship of Allison's sister and her husband (Rudd) gives both Ben and Allison reason to pause. Mann and Rudd both deliver great comic performances laced with pain, especially Mann who plays a character similar to Laura Dern's in Year of the Dog but Mann never sinks to caricature at the expense of humor. Rudd finds marriage to be disappointing, commenting that he wishes he liked anything as much as his kids like bubbles and comparing matrimony to a tense, unfunny episode of Everybody Loves Raymond that lasts a lifetime instead of 22 minutes.
Parts of Knocked Up remain hard to swallow. Allison's decision to try to form a lasting relationship with Ben, even if she's decided to keep the baby, seems sudden and unconvincing. You believe that he'd fall in love with her, but it sounds odd when she says the same thing once she's sober.
Despite misgivings, the film does elicit a lot of hearty laughs and even some touching moments. One favorite speech gets delivered by a doorman at an exclusive nightclub.
In the interest of full disclosure, I did not have an ideal viewing experience. For some reason, an idiot couple thought that an R-rated comedy called Knocked Up, which wears its vulgarity proudly on its trailer, looked like an appropriate film to show their 3-year-old. The kid wouldn't shut up and the parents would take him out of the theater, then bring him back. Finally, I yelled in the dark, "Take the damn kid home already." Thankfully, the kid stayed pretty quiet after that. It always helps to put the fear of God – or at least angry audience members – into people.
It's also ironic, given the movie. Sorry folks: If you can't afford a baby sitter, get ready for a few years without moviegoing. You had a child, don't make the rest of the moviegoing public pay for it.
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TO READ ON, CLICK HERE
Judd Apatow seems to defy just about everything one might hold true about certain forms of comedy. By and large, I subscribe to Jeffrey's 90-minute rule that comedies pushing their luck if they extend much past that running time, but Apatow provided a glowing exception to that rule with The 40-Year-Old-Virgin, the most I've laughed at a recent movie in ages. Then on top of that, he now seems to specialize in extremely vulgar comedies that, at their heart, hide family friendly messages: staying pure until marriage in the case of Virgin and now staying together for the sake of an unexpected baby in Knocked Up. Unfortunately, while Virgin manages to keep its momentum throughout its long running time, Knocked Up doesn't bear its extra frames as well, coming off as a bit flabby. Despite its need for some judicious trimming, it's still ends up as an entertaining way to spend your time.
One thing proving so special about Apatow's films, especially for fans of his great and short-lived TV series Freaks & Geeks and Undeclared, is his penchant for bringing back his extended family time and again, making each enterprise feel as if you've been invited to the reunion as well. Seth Rogen, part of the great ensembles of both Freaks and Undeclared, gets the lead role of Ben Stone in Knocked Up, a stoner/slacker who believes that "weed cures everything" and lives off the dwindling proceeds of a postal truck accident with dreams of an Internet fortune made from a Web site that tracks nude scenes in movies.
Other Apatow alumni along for this ride include Jason Segel (also of both Freaks and Undeclared), Jay Baruchel (Undeclared), Martin Starr (Freaks), Apatow's real-life wife Leslie Mann and two who have joined his creative clan in his films, Paul Rudd and Jonah Hill. Loudon Wainwright III of Undeclared even pops up briefly and provides part of the score and Freaks alum James Franco makes a good-natured cameo as himself. Knocked Up feels as if you're being welcomed home, but that doesn't give it an automatic pass: It still must work as a movie as well and while most of it does, it doesn't quite hit all its marks.
As most should know by now, the premise involves drunken sex between Ben and the in-normal-circumstances unattainable babe Allison (Katherine Heigl), just promoted to on-air talent at E!, that results in an unexpected pregnancy. (The E! setting also provides a priceless Ryan Seacrest cameo, showing that he's got great humor about himself.) In fact, Allison's extreme denial early on prompts her sister (the great Mann) to ask if she's one of those women who won't realize she's pregnant until she's on the toilet and a baby falls out.
So, with great hesitancy, Allison shares the situation with an understandably shocked Ben. However, he then embraces the idea of a pending spawn, even though he's nowhere near ready for any responsibility. Ben seeks advice from his thrice-married dad (Harold Ramis) who tells him that he's the best thing that ever happened to him, which Ben says only makes him feel sad for him.
The rocky relationship of Allison's sister and her husband (Rudd) gives both Ben and Allison reason to pause. Mann and Rudd both deliver great comic performances laced with pain, especially Mann who plays a character similar to Laura Dern's in Year of the Dog but Mann never sinks to caricature at the expense of humor. Rudd finds marriage to be disappointing, commenting that he wishes he liked anything as much as his kids like bubbles and comparing matrimony to a tense, unfunny episode of Everybody Loves Raymond that lasts a lifetime instead of 22 minutes.
Parts of Knocked Up remain hard to swallow. Allison's decision to try to form a lasting relationship with Ben, even if she's decided to keep the baby, seems sudden and unconvincing. You believe that he'd fall in love with her, but it sounds odd when she says the same thing once she's sober.
Despite misgivings, the film does elicit a lot of hearty laughs and even some touching moments. One favorite speech gets delivered by a doorman at an exclusive nightclub.
In the interest of full disclosure, I did not have an ideal viewing experience. For some reason, an idiot couple thought that an R-rated comedy called Knocked Up, which wears its vulgarity proudly on its trailer, looked like an appropriate film to show their 3-year-old. The kid wouldn't shut up and the parents would take him out of the theater, then bring him back. Finally, I yelled in the dark, "Take the damn kid home already." Thankfully, the kid stayed pretty quiet after that. It always helps to put the fear of God – or at least angry audience members – into people.
It's also ironic, given the movie. Sorry folks: If you can't afford a baby sitter, get ready for a few years without moviegoing. You had a child, don't make the rest of the moviegoing public pay for it.
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Labels: 00s, Apatow, Franco, Jonah Hill, L. Dern, Paul Rudd, Ramis, Seth Rogen, Television
TO READ ON, CLICK HERE
