5 posts tagged “2007”
AMERICAN GANGSTER (Ridley Scott)
Bled of its original mean, grimy charm and thoroughly pre-chewed, Ridley Scott's version of Frank Lucas' life is a candy-floss version of Gangster 101. Lucas's story is heavily bruised by its meat-handed Hollywood treatment - a ferocious gangster defanged by a motion-picture neatness, with all the schemes carefully mapped out for what Scott has to consider the most retarded audience in history.
Nevertheless, despite its sometimes unbearable shlock and its stingingly unsophisticated treatment of what could have been a gorgeous gangster epic, American Gangster manages to win and keep your attention with gratuitous acts of violence and Denzel Washington's perfect, Colgate teeth.
Watch The Wire instead.
NOTE: I've gotta say, I love the whole undersaturated, 70's slide-show look of the entire movie. What can I say, I LOVE THE PORNSTACHE. Also - the soundtrack is a wet dream of trumpets and soul.
Shooter (2007). Antoine Fuqua's fatally flawed masturbatory revenge flick against the Bush Administration is high on octane, lithe bodies, and little else. The premise - which starts out as a red-blooded, rock-em, sock-em conspiracy flick - quickly sours as Fuqua's own private vendettas and politics seize control of the film, turning what was essentially a loopy but still enjoyable plot into a bloated, self-satisfied, posturing screed punctuated by mindless acts of carefully choreographed violence. Fuqua's biases sap the film of any of the subtleties, complexities, and thus the pleasures of his first film Training Day. Training Day's Alonzo was an egotistical, manipulative monster, but he was also loaded with inimitable charisma and star-power. Shooter's villains, on the other hand, actually have the audacity to plot and smirk by candlelight. They speak in stereotypical white-collar-villain patois ("Scum!" "Fuck you, I am the law!" "We need you to murder an African village, old chum!"), they leer at upright women, they cackle; Fuqua has them do just about everything short of stroking their mustaches. Bogged down by an over-ambitious pipe dream of global conspiracies, Shooter quickly loses all the quiet pleasures of a carefully crafted action thriller and becomes an overly-manipulative, unwatchable piece of self-serving trash. I think I liked it better when it was called Threat Level: Midnight.
Knocked Up (2007). "Comedy is the blues for people who can't sing." Chris Rock
Knocked Up treads difficult territory and it does so carefully. The movie is hilarious, but the writers and actors always seem to have respect for the subject, which means that the laughs come with a bite. The movie is by turns acerbically and brutally honest - which means that the fights, strains, and fears are all real and terrifying - and deeply empathetic. It's much more complex than it seems, and is a surprisingly bitter treat.
King Arthur (2004). Starring: The venerable, classic Arthurian legend as a beautiful mystic beast and King Arthur the Movie as the cross-eyed, beer-bellied, imbecilic frat-boy that proceeds to fuck it in the butt. To the soulful soundtrack of the Dave Matthews Band.
Relentlessly and condescendingly stupid and irredeemable, even by its beautiful cinematography, creative depictions of prehistoric massacre, and Keira Knightley's boobs' brave, sacrificial smothering via leather belt.
Roger Dodger (2002). Roger Dodger has many, many flaws, including: a script that sometimes reads like a smart-ass's thesis, high and unachievable ambitions, and an inexplicable but intrinsic eau de asshole floating around. It desperately wants to be more well-liked than it deserves. However, despite these problems, Roger Dodger sometimes manages to worm past your defenses and leave you very involved, very sympathetic, and very, very entertained.
Starring, Jesse Eisenberg as the most endearing teenage horn-dog birthed by humans. On the other hand, Campbell Scott was probably raised by wolves. Rakish wolves.
I don't think these reviews even make sense to me anymore.
Ocean's 13 (2007) The plot's more careless, the acting's worse, the jabs are cheaper, and you get the sinking feeling that the editors cut out a fart joke at the eleventh hour; the end result is shoddier but also less glib, less smug, and funnier than its predecessor.
My dream is to dispense damning praise like candy.
