STAR TREK BACK INTO STAR TREK

(SPOILERS for STAR TREK INTO DARKNESS)

A while back, in preparation for the release of STAR TREK INTO DARKNESS, I watched J. J. Abrams' first foray into the world of James T. Kirk, Spock and all of Gene Roddenberry's intergalactic creations. I had never watched a single full episode of any of the various television shows and although I knew the characters by name and appearance, I was otherwise clueless. While watching STAR TREK, one of the things that stood out most to me (and one that I had never noticed in other immensely popular "geek/nerd" franchises likes STAR WARS or LORD OF THE RINGS) was the seemingly blatant pandering to fanboys and fangirls. Even some of the most emotionally intense moments were almost ruined from this inexplicable need to appease the die-hards with things that make them say, "Oh, man! He just said 'Live long and prosper!'" Unfortunately what I'm getting at is that this same pandering is seen again pervading STAR TREK INTO DARKNESS. In fact, what's seen pervading STAR TREK INTO DARKNESS makes it basically the exact same movie that I saw in preparation months ago. 

It's hard to lump the portrayal of the characters into the kind of pandering I'm talking about. I mean, who would want to see a really camp Spock prancing around saying things like, "Oooooh, Captain Kirk. Set phasers to stunning!" Actually, okay, that'd would awesome. But you get my point. And thankfully the character work is one of the best things about STAR TREK INTO DARKNESS. The relationship between Chris Pine and Zachary Quinto as Kirk and Spock is spot on. The progression from the last film where the pair were just figuring out how to handle each other feels organic and transitionally appropriate. The pair also bring a much need dose of humanity to a film set primarily in space and one full of various aliens and emotionless killing machines (looking at you, Sherlock). For the most part the supporting cast is equally brilliant and each actor makes his or her character unique and easily identifiable. However, while Zoe Saldana and Simon Pegg (and to a smaller degree John Cho and Anton Yelchin) continue to breathe fresh life into their characters, the same cannot be said for Karl Urban and Benedict Cumberbatch. 

Look, I get that Bones' thing is that he's this hard-nosed doctor full of these terrible sayings. That's who he is. But that kind of character just doesn't fit in these new adaptations. From what I can gather, STAR TREK INTO DARKNESS is being considered one of the funniest STAR TREK films to date. That being said, this type of comic relief just feels old to me. While Simon Pegg nervous energy and wise-cracking feels right at home, Bones McCoy feels like they just cut DeForest Kelley out of the 1960s TV series and hoped no one would notice. It's just a constant reminder of the series' age that simply reminded me of the previous film's shortcomings.

Equally disappointing, Benedict Cumberbatch's John Harrison is another old face that does little for the film. The problem is, unlike Bones, HE'S KHAN! He's the main villain of the film and one of the greatest villains in STAR TREK lore. And he doesn't really do anything new. Is he menacing? Yes. Does Cumberbatch do all he can to make him extremely hate-able and seem practically invincible? Oh, yeah. But he's basically the same villain that Eric Bana played in STAR TREK - an off-kilter outsider, clad in black who will do whatever it takes for his "people." I really enjoyed it the first time around. But this time it just felt lack luster. Maybe it's because I expect so much out of Cumberbatch. Maybe it's because Khan isn't just any old villain. Whatever it is, the more I ruminate on STAR TREK INTO DARKNESSS, the more it seems like a simple re-heating of last night's leftovers rather than a fresh, new summer entree. 

And that's the biggest problem with STAR TREK INTO DARKNESS. The acting is good, the action sequences are extremely well done, Michael Giacchino's score is spot on again, and the film is beautiful. But so was STAR TREK. It's like J. J. Abrams saw how successful the first film was and said, "Listen, I've got EPISODE VII to worry about. Let's just do the same stuff again. They'll love it!" And it seems like people do. And, for what it's worth, I thought it was a perfectly enjoyable and serviceable summer popcorn flick. However, I just kept thinking about how much I liked this movie when I saw it earlier this year. It feels like all they did was put INTO DARKNESS on the end of the title, slap a British accent on Eric Bana and sent it to the theatres. 

We all know how J. J. Abrams works. His films are gorgeous; they have witty writing full of self-referential humor and fanboy lip-service; and there are lots and lots of lens flares. And while he cut back on the lens flares (perhaps a product of all the fan complaints), STAR TREK INTO DARKNESS is simply a standard Abrams film. This is not a bad thing, don't get me wrong. However, it leaves much to be desired. While the first STAR TREK had me itching to watch any of the old series that I could get my hands on, STAR TREK INTO DARKNESS only makes me nervous for the future. 

7 out of 10

A Tribute to Roger Ebert

The balcony is closed.

On April 4, 2013, famed critic from the Chicago Sun Times, Roger Ebert passed away at the age of 70 after a battle with cancer. Ebert reviewed movies for the Chicago Sun Times for 46 years. However, most will remember him for his long-running TV series AT THE MOVIES, with his good friend and oftentimes newspaper rival, Gene Siskel, and then with Richard Roeper after Siskel's death. For the general population, what they'll remember are Ebert's two magical thumbs that could be either be the death knell for a movie, or it's loudest ringing endorsement. For many others, however, Ebert's contributions to the world of film criticism and simple film adoration will be felt and remembered forever. 

I remember watching reruns of AT THE MOVIES on PBS when I was younger, loving when the skinny, bald guy and the jolly, fat guy would argue. As I got older and started to really listen to what they had to say, I was enthralled. I loved watching movies. But the way they talked about them made me want to see what they saw, think like they thought. When I got older still, I sought out Ebert's reviews and devoured them with immense pleasure. I didn't always agree, but they got me thinking. And most of all, they were fun to read. I could feel his love, or his disappointment in a film. It was how I wanted to write. 

Roger Ebert loved movies. Except for the ones he hated. But for a film with an ambitious director, fantastic plot, amazing cast or, if you were lucky, all of the above, there was no greater advocate than Roger Ebert. Ebert passionately and unabashedly championed film excellence more than perhaps any film critic in history. You could tell when Roger Ebert really adored a film because the way he wrote about it was like a love letter to the one girl that has had your heart forever. You could feel the emotion on the page. Every Ebert review was as if he had taken his heart out of his chest and said, "See? This is how I feel about this movie."

Of course, Ebert didn't love every movie. Though, unlike too many critics today, he was never critical to the point of cruelty. "I'm not mad," his reviews would sigh. "I'm just disappointed." Unlike many critics, Ebert also went into every film with the hope that it would blow him away. When it didn't, he would tell you. But he would tell you with such a sharp wit and deep breadth of knowledge, that even when you disagreed with him, you were still entertained. And best of all, he would give you alternatives. "This movie may have been derivative or unsuccessful because x, y and z, but here's a film that gets it all right!" That is what made Ebert truly special.

There was no bigger advocate for films (blockbuster and indie alike) than Roger Ebert. For Ebert saw the value in all things cinema. "Sure, this big Hollywood blockbuster is a mediocre cash-grab, but there's this great indie picture playing at the 2 dollar cinema that's amazing!" Roger Ebert gave indie films popular appeal. And his passion for independent film helped introduce a new generation of filmmakers to the world. But, apart from this, he was also a major champion of African American filmmakers. If not for Ebert, a film like HOOP DREAMS may have never made it past Sundance audiences. While just about every critic in the country was panning Spike Lee's DO THE RIGHT THING, Ebert saw it for the biting social commentary that it was and devoted an entire episode of AT THE MOVIES to talk about Lee, his film and his contribution to filmmaking.

But apart from the films themselves, Roger Ebert was the "Dean of Film Criticism." Through his articles, books and television show, Ebert provided insight into the world of cinema while simultaneously allowing for more scholars and arm-chair critics alike to join in the conversation. When the internet took the world by storm, Ebert was on the forefront. He was one of the first ever major critics to have an online blog dedicated to film criticism. When he felt as though he was trapped in the present, Ebert started revisiting old films and publishing reviews on those. When cancer took his ability to speak, he became an even larger presence online - with an output that would put any 20-something film critic to shame. 

But he loved those 20-something film critics. It is because of Roger Ebert that people even know about most of the online critics they read today. Ebert was one of the biggest proponents for the immense array of talent that was out there in cyber space that no one knew about. Oftentimes one could find Ebert tweeting links to unknown critics whose reviews he found interesting, enlightening, funny or whatever. Through his yearly film festival, Ebertfest, he would also invite countless lesser known film critics to take part in the festivities, giving them a larger audience than they could have ever fathomed. Every film critic today owes something to Roger Ebert. 

During his later years, after a long battle with cancer took his jaw and his ability to speak, Roger Ebert became a renaissance man of sorts. His voracious writing only enhanced as he began to write about things as varied as fast food joints around Chicago, wine and politics. Despite being very sick, Ebert never let his presence stop being felt. Cancer might have taken his physical voice, but Roger Ebert would not be silenced. His continued work at the Chicago Sun Times and on his blog acted then and now as a testament to the human spirit and ability to enjoy life to the fullest extent. 

Through his personable demeanor and unwavering love of film, the Pultizer-prize winning film critic captured the hearts of film-lovers, casual film-goers, and filmmakers alike. Ebert was a film critic you read if you wanted to fall in love with movies. He was passionate, humorous and most of all accessible. A film scholar for the common man. Roger Ebert is one of the biggest influences on my life and what I love to do. Without him, I don't know if I would be the person I am today and have the same immense love that I have for film. Needless to say, his influence on the world of independent filmmaking, film criticism and all-around cinephilia can never be overestimated. Roger Ebert is a shining example of how to live life to the fullest. Most of all, his sincerity, work ethic, even in the face of cancer, and genuine love of life should act as inspirations for not only film critics, but for everyone. 

I never got to meet Roger Ebert. But maybe one day I'll see him at the movies. 

THE (Not So) INCREDIBLE BURT WONDERSTONE

Recently, unless your film is called THE INCREDIBLES, putting the adjective "incredible" in your movie's title has not worked out too well. Both INCREDIBLE HULK movies were either mediocre or frankly terrible (sorry, mutant poodle) and EXTREMELY LOUD AND INCREDIBLY CLOSE was embarrassingly awful. Not only does it make you look foolish, it makes it very easy for critics to take shots at your film. Unfortunately, what I'm getting at is although the magnificent Steves (Carell and Buscemi, though they're sadly not called this in the movie) look beyond fabulous in all their promotional photos, THE INCREDIBLE BURT WONDERSTONE does little too buck the trend of these not-so-incredible, "INCREDIBLE" movies. 

Burt Wonderstone (Carell) and Anton Marvelton (Buscemi) are two wildly successful magicians, friends since grade school, in Las Vegas, performing their show, "A Magical Friendship," for countless audiences over many years. However, the act has become stale and rote and a new, rebellious street magician (a la Criss Angel) named, you guessed it, Steve! Grey (Jim Carrey) has become a looming threat to Burt and Anton's formulaic, though immensely successful show. As audience attendance dwindles, Burt and Anton look for new ways to spice up their act and compete with Grey. This ultimately leads to the pair performing a David Blaine-esque "hot-box" stunt/illusion, which results in a massive flip-out by Wonderstone, a severe injury to Marvelton, and what seems to be the end of the duo's partnership. Alone, and overshadowed by Steve Grey, Wonderstone must find a way to get back on top of the Las Vegas magic world -- a task that will prove neither easy nor pretty.

As a comedy, THE INCREDIBLE BURT WONDERSTONE is, like many of its "incredible" predecessors, mediocre at best. The laughs come few and far between and most of the material feels as old and worn out as Wonderston and Marvelton's act. What the film ultimately boils down to is far too many sex-related jokes and gross-out humor -- which I guess is what is to be expected by a director (Don Scardino) who's, although being a fairly distinguished television director, most noteworthy film prior to this was the 1980 joint CRUISING with Al Pacino which few liked and many gay activists protested. 

What damages  THE INCREDIBLE BURT WONDERSTONE's comedic resonance more than anything is not its direction or script, but its HORRENDOUS casting. Burt Wonderstone is arrogant, self-deluded, and, surprisingly, not the sharpest guillotine cutting a lovely assistant in half. While this role would have been perfect for someone like Will Ferrell who has made a career at playing dim-witted narcissists, for Carell, who's more comfortable playing the clueless guy or the nice guy, it just feels off. Steve Buscemi, who is always awkward (and that's often what I love most about Steve Buscemi), simply feels lost and out of place completely. Jim Carrey is allowed to really air out his insanity and it makes for some of the better bits of the film. Sadly, it's hard to shake the fact that Carrey is 51 years old and, to quote Roger Murtaugh, is "too old for this shit." 

The only truly redeeming feature of the film's atrocious casting is its supporting players. Olivia Wilde, as the beautiful assistant who is treated as little more than a sex object by her male counterparts while being as, if not more talented than any of them, is wonderful in her minuscule amount of screentime. James Gandolfini is also hilarious as ludicrously wealthy and appropriately named casino owner Doug Munny and has an amazing ability to say the most terrible things to people with a smile on his face. But the cream of the crop is the legendary Alan Arkin as the aging inspiration for Burt and Anton's magical careers, Rance Holloway. Where the other cast members have the comedic timing of a pubescent schoolboy trying to make the head cheerleader laugh, Arkin rattles off his hilarious quips and observations with ease. He has this kind of misty-eyed elegance and majesty that prevents you from taking your eyes off of him anytime he's on screen. 

Simply, the THE INCREDIBLE BURT WONDERSTONE, well, just isn't. And I know that's an incredibly trite phrase that I'm sure every critic from here to Las Vegas has used. But when a film calls itself incredible, it better deliver. And although it provides a few laughs, BURT WONDERSTONE does little to distinguish itself as anything new. It's simply the same old story about a delusional, egotistical idiot who has it all, loses it all, then changes and gets it all back. It's basically TALLADEGA NIGHTS with magicians. But whereas Will Ferrell produced the endearing and infinitely quotable Ricky Bobby, Carell struggles to make the transition from obnoxious womanizer to sensitive soul believable. If the film did anything, however, it was reinforce my belief that Alan Arkin is still, and I mean this in every sense of the word, absolutely incredible. 

4 out of 10

Has ARGO brought something different to this year's Oscars?

On a recent trip to Wal*Mart, I made my habitual trek to the electronics department to check out the new releases. I knew ARGO had just come out and I was considering purchasing it. When I made it to the "New Releases" section, there were tons of copies of the film on DVD. "Okay, but where are the Blu rays," I muttered. "ALL GONE!? Wow!" my brain responded after seeing the two completely barren Blu-ray sections. It was surprising to say the least. The movie had just came out that day. I know it was late in the evening, but Jesus. Then I saw why. 

Parked in the center walking area of the Wal*Mart was an ARGO/Oscar display. On two of the display's four sides were slots filled with DVDs and Blu-rays depicting Ben Affleck's bearded mug. On the other two sides were various DVD s and Blu-rays of past Oscar nominees and winners. From BEN HUR to SLING BLADE, the cornucopia of films were impressive if unexpected. Sure, I have seen plenty of displays like this at various Wal*Marts throughout the years, but nothing quite like this. 

Not only did it seem like blatant advertising for the actual award show itself, it almost seemed as if ARGO has already won. For those of you, like me, that follow the Oscar race, this seems like a safe bet. However, that doesn't stop the fact that, you know, technically it still hasn't won yet. And that got me thinking, "Has there ever been anything quite like this in the history of the Oscars?" And, based on my limited knowledge of ceremonies past, I couldn't think of won.

For those of you who don't know, ARGO was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Picture. However, the Academy quickly came under HEAVY scrutiny when it did not nominate the film's director, Ben Affleck, for Best Director (along with also snubbing another favorite, Kathryn Bigelow, and DJANGO UNCHAINED's Quentin Tarantino). Almost as if a big screw you to the Oscars, every other major award ceremony both nominated AND gave the award for Best Feature and Best Director to ARGO and Ben Affleck respectively. The Golden Globes, the SAG and DGA Awards, the BAFTAs, you name it, they won it. 

What turned out to be an unprecedented (to my knowledge) blunder by the Academy, also sparked a sort of underdog story that seems to have captured the attention of the nation. Sure, many people including hardcore cinephiles (just to complain or because it's their job) and casual moviegoers alike tune in to watch the ceremony each year. But this year, it seems like there's an even bigger fervor. People want to see if ARGO can take the top prize even though it's director wasn't even nominated (something that has only happened a minuscule amount of times in the ceremony's history), or if the Academy will fight off the peer pressure and give the win the pre-award season favorite LINCOLN or maybe even the indie upstart BEASTS OF THE SOUTHERN WILD. 

The thing is, the people marketing the Oscars seem to sense this. This year, apart from the ARGO display and various Oscar nominated and winning films being on sale at various outlets, the theater chain Cinemark is also having it's "Oscar Movie Marathon" this weekend. Where, for two days, it will be showing all 9 films nominated for the Academy Award for Best Picture. 5 one night and 4 the next. Never have I seen such market saturation for an award show. 

So, what's really behind this? Is it simply a new trend that we'll now see for years to come? There has always been a connection between Oscar nominations/wins and film advertising. However, are we witnessing the birth of a new kind of advertising that promotes actual award show as much as the films themselves? Or is there something special about ARGO? The little movie that could, almost representative of the underdog spirit of the country itself. The film is about a man who takes on nearly impossible odds to accomplish a goal most thought impossible. Sure, I could just be grasping at straws, but the connections between the film's narrative and the narrative that has come to surround the film and it's humble, bearded director are undeniable. Needless to say, no matter what happens this Oscar Sunday, the buildup has been something that we've, or at least that I've, never seen before. 

Business As Usual: Thoughts on The GRAMMYs

Katy Perry's cleavage makes a triumphant return to the Grammy Awards. 

Every January and February we are treated to a time affectionately known as “Awards Season.” Already this year we've seen the Golden Globes, the SAG Awards, the DGA Awards, and the BAFTAs. And before we wind everything down to a close with the Oscars in a few weeks, the music industry gets to have its night. This past Sunday at the Staples Center in Los Angeles, the 55^th Grammy awards were held. And, as has become custom, I’m here to mostly complain about it (maybe not mostly).

For those of you who are familiar with the Grammys, you know that it stresses the “show” portion of award show. And there are tons of them. Generally, you can expect to get about 2 or 3 really great performances out of the roughly 600,000 given. Particularly noteworthy this year were performances by Jack White and The Black Keys featuring Dr. John and the Preservation Hall Jazz Band who blew the roof off of the Staples Center, managing to imbue the show with something it is almost always devoid of: rock and roll. Justin Timberlake also made a major impression with his return to the Grammy stage. Despite being shot through the gimmicky, old-timey lens (which makes no sense because, you know, it’s LIVE TV), he actually killed it. Add in some back up by Jay-Z who no longer needs to do anything to be awesome except show up, and what you get is one of the best performances of the night.

However, it cannot be THE best, because that honor goes to a particularly brilliant ensemble tribute to The Band’s Levon Helm featuring Elton John, Mavis Staples, Zac Brown, Mumford & Sons, and Brittany Howard of Alabama Shakes. While all the performers blended magnificently (one of the better pairing jobs the Grammys has done), the particular standout was Howard. Now, I don’t know how many of you have heard of Alabama Shakes, but if you’ve never given them a listen, you really need to. Surrounded by legends like Staples and Elton John, Howard completely murdered her verse. It was really exciting to see a new talent, especially one of such magnitude, get major exposure and I hope it carries her and Alabama Shakes to great things.

Where there are amazing performances, though, sadly there are not-so amazing performances. As the night began, Taylor Swift came on stage in what looked like a “sexy Mad Hatter costume” that you’d buy at Wal*Mart around Halloween to perform “We are Never Getting Back Together;” which afterward made everyone question why anyone would be with her in the first place. Swift spent the rest of the night awkwardly doing what I can only refer to as “elbow dancing” to other artists’ performances and the fact that she tries so hard to get people to like her just makes me dislike her that much more.

Later in the evening, we were graced with what was described as a “Tribute to Bob Marley,” which included Sting, Bruno Mars, Rihanna and Ziggy and Damian Marley. Now, I don’t know about you, but “Locked Out of Heaven” and “Walking on the Moon” are two of my favorite Bob Marley songs. While Sting and Bruno were good (Sting being much, much better), I don’t understand how singing two of your own songs constitutes a tribute. Near the end, thankfully (I guess), Rihanna came out with the Marley’s to sing “Could You Be Loved” which was completely and entirely… fine. It added up to little more than additional proof that Bob Marley’s fans consistently destroy the heart of his music more than any other artist’s fans.

Big winners on the awards side of things (yeah! They actually gave out some awards!) included fun., Gotye and Mumford & Sons. fun. won for Best New Artist and did so over the likes of The Lumineers and Frank Ocean. Don’t get me wrong, fun. is fine, but the fact that the award didn’t go to Ocean is a tragedy. Despite having one of the most horrific performances I’ve ever heard (seriously, guys, don’t let that train wreck be your impression of him), “Channel Orange” is an absolutely tremendous album. Goyte and Kimbra (dressed like she rubbed an exploded flamingo on herself) took home Record of the Year for their song “Somebody That I Used to Know” and although I enjoy the song, it’s so ubiquitous at this point that it’s hard to have an objective opinion about it. They both seemed happier about being presented the award by Prince (dressed in some spaceman hoodie thing and carrying a bedazzled cane) than actually receiving the award. In their defense, he is Prince and who could blame them. Finally, taking the big prize of the night, Album of the Year, was Mumford & Sons for “Babel.” And honestly? Out of the five nominees, they’re number four.  Over The Black Keys, Jack White, and Frank Ocean? Talk about going with the safe pick. While I understand this was the Grammys making up for completely passing over “Sigh No More,” it’s still a wildly disappointing selection. But hey, at least they ignored the Beebs album “Believe,” right?

Basically, what it ends up being is another lack luster year filled with a few amazing performances and over two hours of garbage where you wish you would have just waited to watch the highlights the next day and tuned into “The Walking Dead” instead. MCing the night was LL Cool J who, between having a mid-life crisis and talking about his Twitter, managed to be one of the worst hosts of all time (although hearing his brief tribute to MCA with “No Sleep till Brooklyn” was great). Thankfully for LL, it was a night where, between Beyonce messing up her lines (and Ellen staring at her awkwardly because she’s Ellen and she’s awesome) and Miguel and Wiz Khalifa performing a great rendition of “Adorn” and then giving out the award for Best Country Solo Performance because why not, being terrible meant you fit right in.

But despite it all, there were some real flashes of brilliance. And Taylor Swift elbow dancing. Lots of Taylor Swift elbowing dancing. 

Warning: SIDE EFFECTS May Include Suspense, Intrigue, and Social Commentary

As I mentioned in my most anticipated films of 2013 list, director Steven Soderbergh (CONTAGION, HAYWIRE, MAGIC MIKE) has stated that after the release of his Liberace biopic for HBO and his final theatrical film, SIDE EFFECTS, he will be retiring from directing movies. As I also speculated in my most anticipated films of 2013 list, it was my belief that because of this, Steven Soderbergh would try to give us the best movie possible to go out on. Is SIDE EFFECTS perfect? No. But what it is, is a brilliant melding of Soderbergh's cold, clinical style with a Hitchcockian thriller that could get even Norman Bates on the edge of his seat. 

Written by Soderbergh's recent writer of choice, Scott Z. Burns (THE INFORMANT!, CONTAGION), the film stars Jude Law as Jonathan Banks, a big city psychiatrist. His life  is wonderful: he has a lovely wife and son, a budding practice and a new contract with a pharmaceutical company to help test a new, experimental drug.  This is until he meets Emily Taylor (Rooney Mara), a depressed 28 year-old who husband (Channing Tatum) was just released from prison for insider trading. 

Emily was brought to the hospital after driving her car straight into a parking garage wall. She promises Banks she isn't a danger to herself or to anyone else, and to get him to release her she promises to start sessions with him. While meeting with Banks, Emily tries a series of anti-depressants to no avail. Just by chance, at a conference Banks speaks with Emily's former psychiatrist Victoria (Catherine Zeta-Jones), whom Emily stopped seeing because she lost her health insurance after her husband went to jail. Victoria suggests that Banks try a new anti-depressant called Ablixa, to which he agrees begrudgingly after Emily has another incident. And it works wonders! Emily's life starts to get back to normal and she seems happy again. But the drug has some serious side effects. And one night, acting under the influence of Ablixa, Emily does something that changes her and Dr. Banks's lives forever. 

While that sounds like a ton of the plot, that actually only sums up about the first 30 minutes. And sadly, it's hard for me to say anything else about the movie without risking serious spoilers. Like Alfred Hitchcock's PSYCHO before it, the marketing behind SIDE EFFECTS has been intentionally vague and aptly so. And like PSYCHO, SIDE EFFECTS is also a taught, well-crafted thriller with something deep and important to say about mental illness and, in the case of the latter, the pharmaceutical industry whose job it supposedly is to help those afflicted. 

No matter what you think of Steven Soderbergh, all of his movies are gorgeously done. With his patented muted color palette and still camera, he is able to create a world that feels incredibly realistic. It's cold, concise, uncaring. And yet, by using an extremely shallow depth of field almost exclusively, Soderbergh is able to draw a haze over the entire work. Fuzzy lights pervade and Soderbergh often sets a point of focus to have his, at first, blurry stars walk into and out of. It's a brilliantly inspired decision that allows you to see and feel exactly what these characters are going through as they slip farther and farther into madness. 

It also doesn't hurt that Soderbergh has the clout to put together a cast that is completely aces. Besides Catherine Zeta-Jones as you've never seen her before and Channing Tatum who is able to deliver a wonderful performance, stripped of all the sexuality and masculinity that he's become famous for (a patented, and wonderful trademark of Soderbergh's), the two main stars of the film are brilliant. Jude Law as Jonathan Banks plays paranoid and obsessed amazingly well, holding nothing back as his character spins farther and farther is a web of corruption and deceit. It's Rooney Mara, however, that's the real star. What she is able to do without speaking is incredible. What she lacks in physicality she makes up for in quiet intensity and sheer emotional presence. 

While the film suffers from some bigger flaws near the end where it feels like it's racing to a finish, and some cliched thriller/crime drama tropes (I don't ever want to see another scene of a person looking at pieces of paper pinned to a cork board, connected by string), nothing can take away from the fact that SIDE EFFECTS is an intelligent, remarkably well-shot and acted thriller while managing to say something deeper about one of the more serious issues in today's culture. It's one of the those movies that's incredibly bittersweet. On one hand, it's an impeccable movie that anyone would be proud to call their final film. On another, it serves as just another reminder as to what we're losing with the retirement of one of the most talented directors working today. Either way, Steven Soderbergh is going out with a bang. And SIDE EFFECTS is an outstanding part one. 

8.5 out of 10

Boy Meets (Apocalyptic) World: Review of WARM BODIES

With a movie like WARM BODIES,  word play seems almost inevitable. It's either, "WARM BODIES is hot stuff!" or "WARM BODIES left me feeling as cold as a Boney's skin..." muscle... whatever, you'll know what I'm talking about after you actually see the movie. And why not partake in a little rhetorical fun? It's one of the things at which Shakespeare, the clearest influence on Isaac Marion's 2010 novel  and now the 2013 film of the same name, was the master! Unfortunately, WARM BODIES doesn't really warrant the time it takes to think of such witty puns (even for such a skilled wit as myself). In fact, it doesn't really warrant a ton of discussion at all.

Taking place after a mysterious plague has wiped out most of the world's population, the film follows R (Nicholas Hoult), a zombie of unknown age and origin who, along with his undead brothers and sisters, wonder the landscape looking for fresh meat (in this case, a concentrated group of survivors living in a small community surrounded by an enormous constructed wall. As we learn through R's interior monologue (the origin of most of the character's lines throughout the film), zombie's are not the brainless, bloodthirsty creatures that we consider them to be. Sure, there are "the Bonies" - horribly degraded and animalistic ghosts of Christmas future for the other zombies - but for the most part, these zombies are relatively nice. And apart from the whole "eating brains and being unable to string more than a few words together at a time" thing, they are relatively normal. So normal in fact, that when R finally meets up with Julie (a survivor  played by Teresa Palmer), he finds that her presence has given him more life than he could have imagined. 

WARM BODIES, the fourth major film from 50/50 director Jonathan Levine, is a cute film. In fact, for a movie filled with degenerative skeleton/demon hybrids and graphic brain snacking it's downright adorable. The problem is that in its cuteness, it fails to take any risks whatsoever. What we get instead is a cookie cutter romantic comedy with the occasional interesting idea thrown in. And it's not even a particularly good romantic comedy. Apart from Nicholas Hoult who does a good job in spite of not being able to utter more than a few words at a time, the rest of the actors are passable at best. Teresa Palmer in particular channels her inner Kristen Stewart and appears more lifeless than her corpse co-star (see, I knew I'd get some sort of word play in there). What this all culminates in is a relatively weak central romance which, unlike the play from which the film draws its inspiration, leaves the audience unable to become fully emotionally involved. 

All of that being said, what ultimately leaves the worst taste in my mouth is the film's mediocre narrative. While introducing some truly innovative and interesting ideas such as zombies gaining a person's memories as they consume their brain and how the film handles zombie communication, the film is riddled with so many plots and contrivances that it becomes hard to do anything but scoff and role your eyes. If these zombies have nearly complete motor function and the ability to form complete thoughts and feelings in their mind, why can't they simply write a letter to the survivors they encounter instead of mumbling and moaning incoherently while some other guys put guns to their heads? Why do zombies develop super human strength and agility after they have nearly completely disintegrated into nothing but piles of bone? Why is [SPOILERS] Julie so cool that R just kind of, you know, killed her boyfriend and is now eating his brain and using the knowledge gained from doing this to win her affection? And for Pete's sake, why does John Malkovich (Julie's father in the film) only believe the concrete evidence about the zombies' recovery, provided by his daughter, the second before he's about to kill R? [END SPOILERS] 

What these plots holes and contrivances are telling of is a sloppy, lazy script. And what but a sloppy, lazy, safe movie can be produced from such a script? It's why John Malkovich just happens to get called out to a meeting during R's impromptu visit to Julie's house. It's why R looks and behaves more like a human trying to play a zombie than vice versa. It's why the film feels the need to hit you over the head with obvious themes and ideas. And it's certainly the reason why none of the relationships feel substantial. Sure, Nicholas Hoult and Rob Corddry (the Mercutio to Hoult's Romeo) have good chemistry and comedic timing, but it holds none of the weight that Shakespeare's beloved play does. 

Did WARM BODIES leave me as cold as a Boney's skin/muscle/whatever? No. Is it "hot stuff!"? Not really. What WARM BODIES is, is an appropriate title. Though it introduces some interesting ideas and themes and the occasional light to mildly-hearty chuckle, it's a lukewarm romantic comedy at best. You constantly feel it's PG-13 rating with its plethora of quick cutaways. All the passion that pervades through ROMEO AND JULIET is no where to be seen. What we're left with, instead, is a standard rom-com with a little zom that despite being well made (including a very well chosen 80s soundtrack), never distinguishes itself from what has come before it. 

6 out of 10