'Inglourious Basterds': Revenge of the Genre Conventions

by Brett Parker

It’s a prominent imbalance that has been present in American World War II films since the genre’s origins. The American side has been portrayed as glorious, heroic, and emotionally touching while the Germans, and all of our enemies for that matter, have been drawn as cold and vicious villains. Even the most sophisticated and penetrating of American war films have been diminishing in our enemies’ screen time and can’t help but show the other side as nihilistic and inhuman. There have scarcely been complaints though, for how many Americans would pay to see a film that portrays enemies from our past in a compassionate light? There are proud comforts in these genre conventions that no filmmaker would dare to threaten.

That is until Quentin Tarantino came along. His Ingluorious Basterds has been advertised as the ultimate WWII cartoon, one in which bullish and ballistic American heroes deliver the ultimate punishments to evil German putzes. But Tarantino has a slyer agenda that may be rather shocking to American audiences: he has delivered the first American-made WWII film in which the German side is given more dimension and sympathy than the American side. Upon close examination of the film, there is no denying that the Nazis present here are given more humanity, dimensions, and screen time then their American counter-parts. Tarantino’s use of his characters, as well as his standard arsenal of self-reflexive tricks, allows us to meditate on the way movies can affect a national view on historical events.

The film takes place “once upon a time in Nazi-occupied France…” We meet the Inglorious Basterds, a guerilla unit of American soldiers who’ve been dropped behind enemy lines with one single-minded mission: murder as many Nazis as possible with the utmost viciousness. Under the command of the gung-ho hillbilly Lt. Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt), the Basterds conduct a years-long campaign in which countless Nazis are shot, scalped, scarred, and slammed. The Basterds’ exploits strike a mythic fear into the hearts of the Third Reich and even attract the assistance of a suave British Lieutenant (Michael Fassbender) and a German Actress turned Spy (Diane Kruger).

The Basterds’ mission takes on a grander significance once they are placed in the path of Shosanna Dreyfuss (Melanie Laurent), the owner of a movie theatre in France. Through the influence of a German soldier-turned-actor named Fredrick Zoller (Daniel Bruhl), the Nazis wish to hold the premiere of a Germanized war film named Nation’s Pride at the young woman’s theatre. Almost all of the highest-ranking officers in the German Army, including Hitler himself, plan on attending the premiere, giving the Basterds the perfect target to dramatically alter the course of the war. What the Basterds’ aren’t aware of is the fact that Shosanna also has a revenge plot up her sleeve. The theatre owner is secretly a Jewish-refugee hiding under a French occupation. Her family was massacred years earlier at the hands of a wily SS officer named Col. Hans Landa (Christoph Waltz). On the night of the premiere, she has a calculated plan for retaliation that promises to clash violently with the Basterds’ shrewd plotting.

Inglourious Basterds has been described as “kosher porn” in which Jewish and American moviegoers can vicariously live out their revenge fantasies of slaying the Nazis in devilish ways. Yet you’d be surprised by how much we don’t see of the Basterds. Most of their juiciest exploits are kept off-screen and we barely get to know them individually. The most fleshed out Basterd is Aldo, and even he is a goofball caricature lacking real human depths. He’s an amusing, one-note comic character meant to represent opaque patriotism gone awry. The fact that a Hollywood megastar is cast in the role and is allowed to riff on utter-silliness diminishes our outright investment in the character. We can’t help but realize that these bloodthirsty buffoons represent the same crudeness and broadness that has been reserved for American enemies in countless War films.

Even though the Nazis did undeniably evil things and undoubtedly earned their titles of notoriety and villainy, there is no denying that the film paints them in a more curiously sympathetic light than the supposed “heroes” of the title. The German characters hold most of the movie’s screen time in their grasp and they convey more realistic human emotions than their nemeses. Fredrick Zoller is not seen as an arrogant creep, but a sincere and proud soldier who wants to do right by his country. He even feels uneasy about how he is gloriously portrayed in Nation’s Pride. And what is to be made of the film’s villain, Hans Landa? Sure, he is diabolical and sinister, but he is so giddy, delighted, and intelligible, that it’s rather difficult to label him as outright loathsome, a fate reserved for most Nazi characters in American films. He is not merely an iron sociopath, but a colorful observer who relates thoughtful logic in carrying out his actions. If he were on the American side, we’d relish him completely. Even Hitler himself is allowed a human moment in which he shows real concern and compassion for his nation and decides to attend the film premiere himself.

The most telling scene regarding this risky cinematic ideology comes during the final moment between Shosanna and Fredrick in a projector’s booth. Throughout the film, Fredrick tries to pursue Shosanna romantically and win her over with his affections. Given her background, there’s no way a woman like Shosanna could ever allow someone like Fredrick into her graces. Even though she understands the genuine and heartfelt place he is coming from, in the end she is true to her ideals and sees her wartime stance all the way through. Shosanna’s final moment reveals our feelings towards these characters: we too almost want to accept them as real people like us, but our patriotism and overall knowledge of the war causes us to endlessly regard them as our enemies.

Quentin Tarantino is a filmmaker of self-reflexive delights and he employs his tactics to make us reflect on the way cinematic language can affect our thinking. With Inglourious Basterds, we realize how movies hold a great impact on how we learn and remember past events regarding wars. He even demonstrates this by painting the British Lieutenant as a film-critic-turned-soldier who bases most of his military knowledge on his expertise in national cinema (it’s worth noting that Fassbender, doing a suave play on Errol Flynn charms, creates the coolest film critic character to ever grace the silver screen; something I’ve been waiting patiently waiting for). What’s interesting is the way the German army hopes Nation’s Pride will launch a popular cinematic genre in which the Nazis will be seen as glorious heroes and the Americans will forever be branded as cold villains. This undoubtedly happened in America, in which the U.S. Army worked with Hollywood to spark a national pride in military efforts, forever altering the genre conventions of American war films. With these plot revelations, and the delicious historical inaccuracies of the film’s violent climax, Tarantino shows us how trusting movies for our views on history can seriously skewer our outlook on war.

With Tarantino at the helm, you can always expect a heightened cinematic universe filled with colorful characters and surprisingly elaborate dialogue. Tarantino is a filmmaker hopelessly in love with his own words, but he demonstrates that grand dialogue can be just as exciting as grand action. There’s a peculiar resonance in the film’s final words, in which Aldo regards his own act of violence and exclaims “this might just be my masterpiece!” Is this Tarantino speaking through Aldo? Tarantino has undoubtedly been trying to mount this labyrinth screenplay for ages with an aueteur’s most fevered passion, but does he honestly feel like this is his masterpiece? It’s certainly not his best film; its dialogue lacks the sparkle of Pulp Fiction and it doesn’t have the energetic bounce of Kill Bill. Yet one thing’s for sure, no other war film could possibly hold the grand meditations of war films that Inglourious Basterds so zestfully displays. Tarantino may not have the WWII history right, but he certainly knows how WWII cinema works and he forces us to look at it in a way we never dreamed we could.

The Theatre That Time Forgot

by Brett Parker

It’s a scenario we’ve seen a million times on the big screen: a modern-day person finds themselves taken from the present and transported to a radically different dimension, world, or time. As they explore their strange new environment, they become amused by the majestic whimsy of it all and even learn some valuable lessons that will benefit them when they return to their home world and time. When they finally do return to their original place, they usually find themselves enlightened and delighted by the strange adventure they’ve just endured. I never would’ve thought that I’d have such an experience during a trip to the movies, but a recent Saturday afternoon visit to a far away theatre proved to be the sort of peculiar journey I just described above.

It all started on my 25th birthday. As a gift, my Aunt Carole gave me a $25 gift card for AMC Movie Theatres (Thanks again, Aunt Carole!) She purchased the card at a local Wal-Mart, not realizing that there seemed to be no close AMC chain anywhere in sight. Albany, NY is a mostly REGAL dominated area with pretty much no AMC theatre in sight. After doing some internet research, I discovered that an AMC theatre may or may not exist in Rotterdam, NY. There was definitely a theatre in the Rotterdam Square Mall, although some listings had it as “AMC” while others had it as an “Independent Theatre.” I googled directions to the theatre and discovered that it was approximately 40 minutes from my home, a trying distance to drive just for a discount that may or may not happen. After some consideration, I figured I’d go through with the epic hike. Worst case scenario: I’d driven all that way to pay for a movie I could’ve seen in a closer town. I could live with that.

So on a recent Saturday afternoon, I took off on my strange quest to discover a mysterious theatre across a great distance. I finally arrived at the Rotterdam mall and found it to be a satisfactory shopping venue. The theatre didn’t have an accessible entrance so I had to figure out its location on the giant mall map. At this point, the theatre’s mystique increased in my mind, making me feel like I was out to find the Temple of Doom. Indeed, when I finally discovered the theatre, I truly felt like an archeologist finding a lost, ancient city who gleefully revels in its primitive structure.

The look and set-up of the theatre appeared to have stopped past the early 90s. The front entrance was surrounded by old school ticket booths that had long been abandoned yet still displayed movie times in plastic white lettering. As I walked through the big silver front doors, I found myself in an extremely minimalist lobby that was no bigger than a gas station quickie mart. The walls and carpeting were drenched in a subtle turquoise that was quite a contrast from the loud brightness of contemporary theatres. The concession stand was loaded with fresh and cheap popcorn along with a surprisingly varied amount of candy. Most modern movie chains are limiting in their candy selections due to licensing agreements, yet this theatre appeared to have all the major brands. The ticket clerk informed me that the theatre was no longer under the AMC chain and could no longer honor my card. Nonetheless, my ticket was only somewhere around $6.00, a wonderfully low cost. So this theatre had become something of a separatist republic annexed from a grander empire, and boy, oh boy, did it feel this way.

This shabby Shangri-La was old school in every sense of the term and I mean that as the grandest compliment. That walk through the front door really did feel like a plunge down a time portal. This place had the look and feel of movie houses I frequented in my childhood years, so this place powerfully took me back to feeling exactly like a kid again. To strengthen this heart-warming feeling, the hallways to the small theatres were lined with significant films from my childhood; titles such as E.T. and Who Framed Roger Rabbit. Aside from the vintage look of the theatre, what grabbed me the most was the muteness of it all. There were no digital signs crowding the place, no endless assault of commercial advertisements, no monstrosities of architectural structure. The most exciting aspect of the theatre was the very film you were about to see, which is as it should be.

I was greatly relieved to enter the theatre and find the screen completely blank. There were no loud commercials or advertisements of any kind, just darkness and silence. I haven’t experienced that in quite some time. The seats themselves were not the outsized lazy boys of contemporary theatres, but the old blue plastic kind equipped with small cup holders and a tight intimacy. This could be irritable for most people, but I was able to feel the nostalgic charm of it all. The clock was ticking closer to showtime and the theatre began to fill up with people. As I observed the people sitting around me, I noticed a very shocking thing: everyone was quiet. Not one person made a phone call, texted, talked, even moved. It was like the old days, when people treated sitting in a theatre like sitting in a church. Of course, the commercial upgrades that have been unleashed on theatre culture have diminished this feeling. This old school theatre gave off the feeling of an aging cathedral, so perhaps the atmosphere inspired the traditional religious behavior people used to associate with film-going. I was glowing from the beauty of it all.

As the film I saw ended, I realized I enjoyed the aesthetic experience more than the actual movie itself. It was like stumbling through an old museum of simple beauty. As I walked out those silver front doors, I did indeed feel like I was being chucked back to reality. A friend of mine called my cell to see if I wanted to hang out, and off I was back to the real world. I stared at the front of the theatre, which almost slightly resembled the lost temple from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, and realized I must leave this backhanded city of Oz behind.

This whole experience made me reflect on what our American theatre culture has lost. Advertisers and money men have taken over the intimacy of theatre-going and turned it into a commercial venture that is too vast and impersonal to capture the feelings it gave off in past times. Theatre formalities have been jacked up to outsized obnoxiousness in order to accommodate the pop mentality of making things harder, bigger, stronger, and faster. I’m not going to lie, I’m heavily indulgent in this enterprise and I do enjoy a tricked out theatre every now and then. But I found myself leveled, absolutely leveled, by this outdated theatre I stumbled upon. The simplicity of it all resurrected a religious aura one used to feel when going to the movies, where aesthetic traditions were honored to the fullest and the magic of the movies were given all the room to breathe.

I’m sure there are theatres like this tucked away all over the country and you should seek them out, for they will most likely give you this overwhelming feeling I’ve just described. It made me realize that going to the movies shouldn’t feel like a commercial indulgence but more like artistic nourishment. Maybe one day, this nostalgia trip I’ve described can become an everyday occurrence once again and not just a whimsical journey to a magical world.

'District 9': Inhumane Treatment of Non-Humans

by Brett Parker

If Close Encounters of the Third Kind is an alien contact story built out of hope and optimism, then District 9 is one generated by hard cynicism. The film imagines a situation where grotesque aliens from another planet seek refuge on Earth and become subjected to extreme prejudice, confinement, and abuse. Given that certain chapters of actual human history has shown certain minority groups subjected to racism and genocide, this fantasy concept doesn’t feel as far fetched as you’d expect. The fact that this idea generates objectively truthful traits of human nature is disturbingly nightmarish. The fact that this film doesn’t develop its underlying themes to their fullest potential is considerably disappointing.

The film explains how 30 years ago, a gigantic alien spaceship of supreme craft hovered over Johannesburg, South Africa and froze still. Instead of attacking Earth’s surface or sending ship representatives down, the ship stood there immovable. After some time, the South African government gathered the resources and courage to break its way into the ship’s corridor and discover what was really inside this hovering vessel. What they found was thousands of starving aliens, huddled together with no power in their ship and no governing organization of any kind. The aliens are tall, hideous looking creatures that look like a cross between an amphibian and an insect. Realizing they need help, the humans brought them down to Johannesburg and tried to help them.

The aliens, who eventually earned the nickname “prawns,” became confined to a slum-filled ghetto named District 9 while world leaders tried to decide what should become of their fate. Meanwhile, the citizens of Johannesburg became extremely fearful of the prawns unpredictable and aggressive behavior. Over time, District 9 developed into something of a prison camp, in which they are given very little resources and must live in the most poverty-stricken conditions. They occupy makeshift shacks while rummaging through garbage for food. Nigerian gangsters trade weapons and food with the aliens for high prices and even develop strange rituals to try and activate their alien weapons. It turns out that the prawns’ weaponry can only be activated by their DNA and this causes a shady corporation known as MNU (Multi-National United) to try and figure out how to replicate their technology.

MNU eventually develops a plot to relocate all of the aliens to District 10, an even shabbier environment, in an attempt to recover all of the weaponry hidden within the ghetto to experiment on them. In assembling a relocation task force, they appoint Wikus van der Merwe (Sharlto Copley), a dim-witted office drone who bumbles hopelessly through the relocation efforts. He tries to force them to sign papers of relocation consent while searching for hidden weapons within the shack. During one of his shack raids, Wikus comes across a strange alien tube that covers him in a mysterious spray. That spray turns out to carry a virus that begins altering Wikus’ DNA into that of a prawn. This sets off a chain of events in which Wikus goes on the run from the government, learns some dark secrets about MNU’S agenda, and even begins a friendship with a prawn named Christopher Johnson.

Director Neill Blomkamp grew up in South Africa during the time of apartheid and the film is indeed a parable reflecting the racial segregation and neglect that went down in the country’s history. Apartheid was a time when specific races were separated and removed from certain areas by the government and we’re given restricted freedoms. The prawns endure the same structure, in which they are removed from the general population and signs and regulations are created to make sure they stay segregated. On a deeper level, the prawns could’ve been the Jews during the Holocaust, the Africans during slavery, or any minority group that has ever been persecuted. District 9 exposes the horrifying lack of empathy a general population can show towards a minority group and the depraved amorality they are capable of in their actions. If it’s a known fact that humans have treated their own kind with such hostility and nihilism, what’s to say we wouldn’t treat green men from outer space in the same way (perhaps even worse)? If big corporations have been proven to deceive and violate everyday people, then what would they honestly do to alien beings? It seems highly naïve to think that we humans would show true acceptance and peace towards an alien race integrated into our society.

I’m sure the prawns’ appearance has much to do with their isolation. The filmmakers purposely have made their appearance repulsive, with long slimy tentacles covering their face and bug-like antennas sprouting out from their reptilian-like skin. It’s hard to even look at them on celluloid, making it seem unbearable to do so in real life. If one of them stood behind me in line at the supermarket, I’d probably freak! Yet their repulsiveness brings into light the idea that a race not having the same physical qualities as a superior race could very well lead to perverse mistreatment. Remember Hitler’s “master race” plot? It’d be something of a miscalculation to make these aliens more physically accessible, with sleeker bodies or a subtle cuteness.

All of these deep musings probably make District 9 sound like a transgressive masterwork, yet the film’s great failing is that it’s underlying ideas are not nurtured all that substantially into the main narrative. What should’ve been a sci-fi Schindler’s List comes across more as a twisted, spaced-out play on The Power of One. As Wikus forms an alliance with Christopher Johnson, to simultaneously find a cure for his alien infection and return Johnson to the mothership, we notice the film shifting from a plunging parable into typical space-adventure territory. The filmmakers and effects department pull off an amazing feat with the Johnson character; they find subtle ways to make this member of an ugly race feel sympathetic and likeable (they even give him a cutie-pie son that works in the same vein). Even Wikus finds him sympathetic and likeable, allowing the story to fall down the path of the returning-the-nice-alien-to-the-mothership plotline, which is very limiting considering the territory we’re in. The film reaches its conclusion by way of action standards and our hearts sink at this realization. With Peter Jackson producing, it was probably inevitable that sci-fi action would find its way into the story, yet it seriously stands in our way of finding more tragic depths to reflect on.

You first notice something wrong in the film’s opening. As the narrative adapts a mockumentary style to provide exposition on the prawns’ background, you notice the pacing is whizzing by fascinating details, all with ominous music quickening the flow. As interviewed subjects supply us with vital information, we realize we want to spend more screen time on these details and really dig into the complex environment we’re presented with. We find ourselves asking a lot of questions and having few of them answered. It seems way too eager to indulge in sci-fi standards as opposed to breaking bold new grounds. Watching this movie is a little like being in a college class with a professor who explains things way too fast and whizzes by significant facts you really need to know for a future test.

On its standard level, District 9 is an ambitious play on fantasy-adventure conventions filled with big ideas and disturbing details. It’s impossible to shake and you can’t hold back its heartbreaking implications no matter how much formulaic plotting goes down. The buzz on this movie has been overwhelmingly positive, with both comic-con fan and critics hailing it as a mind-blowing must-see. I think the pop-junk servings of sci-fi slices such as Twilight and Terminator Salvation has given smart moviegoers a hunger for more complex and philosophical science fiction. District 9, with its obvious economy of thought-provoking ideas, seemed like a likely candidate to satisfy this hunger. While it’s certainly a brainy and exceptional entertainment, I still think there’s more layers to unravel and creativity to unearth. If you find this film to really be mind-blowing, then I wish you could see the film I’m picturing in my mind.

'G.I. Joe': A Real Lightweight Hero

by Brett Parker

G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra was inspired, among other things, by a cartoon series from the 80s and this big screen update makes little effort to rise above that intelligence level. Basically, Paramount Pictures has spent over $100 million to make a giant episode of an old cartoon. There are video game adaptations with more cinematic weight than this film. If you were a big fan of the original series, there’s a good chance you’ll dig this movie. If you’ve never seen or heard of G.I. Joe before, it’s probably best to keep it that way.

G.I. Joe chronicles the endless battles between a group of good guys called the Joes and an army of villains who call themselves Cobra. Cobra is an organization armed with top of the line technology and, apparently, endless resources. They have a gigantic fortress that rests below the Polar Ice Caps and they are in possession of a green matter capable of devouring Paris into oblivion. They attempt to launch an ambiguous scheme to destroy all of the major cities around the world…just for the hell of it, it seems (“Don’t they have any demands?” the U.S. President asks. He never gets an answer). To combat this evil scheme, the Joes create a top secret army consisting of the best soldiers from around the globe, ones who try to create and perfect the same kind of futuristic weapons technology Cobra boasts so cheerfully.

At the film’s opening, we meet Duke (Channing Tatum) and Ripcord (Marlon Wayans), two U.S. soldiers who are recruited by General Hawk (Dennis Quaid) to join the Joes. They join the team, which consists of Scarlet (Rachel Nichols), a brainy and beautiful redhead, Snake Eyes (Ray Park), a silent ninja in a rubber suit, and Cover Girl (Karolina Kurkova), a model turned soldier (seriously!). These soldiers pull out all the stops to go after Cobra, which consists of Destro (Christopher Eccleston), a Scottish arms dealer, Storm Shadow (Byung-hun Lee), a sword-wielding ninja, and the Baroness (Sienna Miller), a sexy femme fatale who has a mysterious history with Duke.

The most fascinating thing about G.I. Joe is how lowbrow this whole enterprise turns out to be. It’s basically a C-movie action flick with A-list values. It’s not hard to imagine a direct-to-DVD Van Damme movie having the same exact plotting. The film was brought to us by Stephen Sommers, who made the first two Mummy films, and those movies feel like Lawrence of Arabia compared to this one. The film is basically wall-to-wall with endless action scenes covered from head-to-toe in loud CGI effects. The good guys pound on the bad guys until only one wins. That’s really the only depth we get. In a time that has seen some rather thoughtful blockbusters, it’s jarring to see such a weightless enterprise like G.I. Joe. Iron Man, for example, taught us that a comic adventure can be effects-heavy fun while also possessing an economy of dramatic weight and significance.

The creation of a G.I. Joe movie was no doubt inspired by the success of the Transformers franchise, which we’re also inspired by a Hasbro toy line and 80s cartoon series. One of the big topics of this summer has been how delusional and soulless Michael Bay must be to think that his Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen is actually a good entertainment. Sommers’ work on G.I. Joe helps provide a wonderful counter-argument for Bay’s talents. While Sommers presents his story on a basic cartoon level, Bay plays for higher dramatic depths, even though there’s really none to find. Transformers may be as lightweight as G.I. Joe, but Bay employed every European camera angle and wrung every intense emotion from his cast to make his cartoon universe feel like something significant. Sommers compared his film to Thunderball. Bay compared his to Apocalypse Now. You see where I’m getting at.

Truth be told, by taking the film at its callow, comic-book level, I pretty much enjoyed it. I was a big fan of the cartoon series growing up and I relished this film for touching on the fond and nostalgic memories I hold for these adventures. My 10-year-old self really would’ve loved this film. Watching this film nearly brought me back to those weekday afternoons when I used to plop in front of the TV and watch the Joes and Cobra conduct their absurdly fun battles. One nice thing the film does is take periodical time-outs from the main narrative to provide flashbacks that explain the character’s origins. We see how Duke and the Baroness first met, how Snake Eyes and Storm Shadow were trained by the same master, and how Cobra’s mysterious leader came into creation. G.I. Joe fans are going to eat this up. Those fans are also going to be incredibly delighted to see such a talented cast bringing their childhood heroes to life. Sienna Miller has gone on record stating that the film “is not going to be the best acting work [the film’s cast] has ever done.” She may be right, but this cast certainly embodies their action figure personas to perfection and does a considerable justice to our cartoon memories.

The most interesting performance, and all-around best thing, in this film is Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s portrayal of the complex villain known as Cobra Commander. If you’ve ever read an interview with Gordon-Levitt, then you know how he speaks of his craft like Laurence Olivier and really pushes himself towards dramatic excellence. Well here he is, hamming it up as a goofball Darth Vader and having an absolute ball. The character really does seem like a fun acting exercise, for he goes from nervous soldier to diabolical doctor to over-the-top warlord. Even though most of his performance is shrouded in make-up and a voice synthesizer, Gordon-Levitt’s playful conviction really shines through. Brando used to have the same kind of fun on Hollywood sets. This villainous turn is pretty much worth the price of admission all by itself.

So you’ve been warned. If you like action movies with intelligence, complexity, and deep character development, stay far, far, away from G.I. Joe. If you were in love with the cartoon as a kid and find yourself nostalgic for a silly romp with the Joes and Cobras, you’ll probably have a good time. You’ll either leave the theatre saying, “that was really stupid” or “where can I get a human accelerator suit?”

A Far From 'Perfect' Thriller

by Brett Parker

I wish I could throw the first half of A Perfect Getaway right in the garbage and just keep the second half. As this sun-drenched thriller begins to unravel, we find ourselves dredging through stock characters, corny dialogue, and pathetic attempts at self-reflexive cleverness. Then the film reveals a big plot twist that not only re-defines everything that has gone before but actually elevates this lightweight thriller to something somewhat significant. Of course, it would’ve been better if the film didn’t practically announce that it had a major twist in its plot, but the surprise almost saves this movie from being unnecessary junk food.

Steve Zahn and Milla Jovovich star as Cliff and Sydney, a seemingly happy pair of newlyweds who are on their honeymoon in Hawaii. They decide to kick-off their holiday by undergoing a hiking trail on the island of Kauai. While on the trail, they encounter Nick (Timothy Olyphant) and Gina (Kiele Sanchez) another happy couple looking for some hiking fun. Despite some apparent oddness in their personalities, Cliff and Sydney decide it’d be worthwhile to let this seemingly normal couple join them on the trail. In tow way behind on the trail is Kale (Chris Hemsworth) and Cleo (Marley Shelton), an unsettling and temperamental couple that makes everyone nervous.

While on the trail, Cliff discovers on his cell phone that a murderer is on the loose in Hawaii. News tickers report that a couple was viciously murdered on the island of Oahu and have neither been captured or identified. This causes Cliff and Sydney to be instantly suspicious of the other couples on the trail and they seriously ponder if they’ll get off the trail alive.

The good news is that this is one of the more dialogue-driven popcorn thrillers I’ve seen in quite some time; most of the film’s blood and violence is reserved for the final 15 minutes. The bad news is that none of the characters really say anything worth listening to. The dialogue tries to present itself as hip and clever by referencing other movies, but it comes off as cheap and annoying. The characters speak of Natural Born Killers, Cool Hand Luke, and Nicholas Cage, and while these are never boring subjects, we find ourselves rolling our eyes over these fanboy musings. These pop culture name checks are so clunky they make Clarence from True Romance sound like Hamlet. And speaking of Tarantino, it’s worth noting that his Death Proof is the self-reflexive slasher flick to end all self-reflexive slasher flicks. This film’s dialogue is embarrassing compared to Tarantino’s script.

Another one of the script’s annoying techniques is to literally highlight screenwriting formulas as the plot unfolds them right in front of us. Cliff informs Nick that he works as a Hollywood screenwriter, so the two hold conversations in which they speak of screenwriting conventions that just so happens to show up in this film. At one point, Nick speaks of how the second act in most movies always contains a plot twist, just when the second act of this film marches towards its twist! Cliff speaks of red herrings at one point, then we see a suspicious character wearing a red bandana! What do you think his plot function is? It can be excruciating to watch a film that thinks it’s cleverer than it actually is. And the characters drop so many hints about twists and surprises that it almost implodes the whole movie’s agenda. A fellow hiker on the trail tells the others how a path has “many twists and turns up ahead” and it almost makes you shout to the screen: “I get it! I get it! Get to the damn twist already!” Instead of teasing us with hints of a twist, its better to pretend like there's no twist at all.

So the big plot twist finally arrives, and get this: it turns out to be a clever little swindle. It’s devilishly fun and actually makes the film rise to a higher entertainment value. I’d call it surprising, but I suspect smart moviegoers will probably be able to flesh it out. All you really have to do is apply the Sherlock Holmes method of highlighting the seemingly illogical and ask if it could logically happen. It doesn’t cheat, only if you can buy the idea that some serial killers are more dedicated method actors than most Oscar winners. If there’s one smart thing the surprise does, it’s to make the audience reflect on the way characters are presented in slasher thrillers. Our personal judgments on specific characters can easily be tilted by suggestive camera angles, music, and their individual screen time. A Perfect Getaway does a wicked play on these methods and we’re quite amused at how the film allows the characters to play out.

Despite the shaky script, A Perfect Getaway does hold an efficient level of competence in other areas. The lead actors are convincing every step of the way, even when we think they’re supposed to be one thing then they turn out to be another. Director David Twohy (Pitch Black) keeps things simple until he employs effective split-screen techniques and sped-up zooms in the film’s finale. These techniques can be pointless and frustrating in other films, but here they help heighten the excitement of the film’s violent conclusion. And even though this Hawaiian tale was mostly filmed in Puerto Rico, the location work feels real and gives us something exotic to relish.

I’m really on the fence about whether or not to recommend this flick. It yearns for exceptional thriller heights, yet its still just disposable fare. I obviously relished the film’s big twist, but it’d feel like a chore to sit through all that cheesy dialogue again. I suppose if you usually enjoy the actors here and you’re in the mood for B-movie thrills, this could work for you. I think the only way I’ll ever watch this again is if it shows up on late night TV. Maybe.

John Hughes: Highlights From An Influential Career

by Brett Parker

Almost every genre of film contains at least one auteur that mixed up typical conventions and pushed them towards new heights that forever altered the face of cinema. Alfred Hitchcock brought grand psychological and technical depths to suspense thrillers while Sam Peckinpah highlighted gritty ambiguities and hostility in the American Western. One filmmaker who definitely fits this ideal is John Hughes, a highly influential writer-producer-director who spearheaded progressive elevations in teenage comedies and drama. While the teen genre found its origins in dimwitted irrelevance, Hughes brought a refreshing dignity, maturity, and wit to youthful stories and teen movies have tried to follow his example ever since.

When the news broke that John Hughes had passed away on August 6th, 2009 from a heart attack, your mind almost automatically recalls how seminal his work was in creating the teen genre as we now know it. Before John Hughes, teenagers mostly found their way on the big screen by way of raunchy sex comedies and cheesy slasher flicks. Hughes was more interested in the everyday plights they endure in the face of high school politics and tense domestic situations. He was canny in the way he captured the angst and feelings of the general American teenager, crafting films that we’re enormously sympathetic to youthful audiences everywhere. While he may have created juvenile archetypes that would appear hopelessly cliché in future films, rarely has a filmmaker brought such touching depths and hilarious insights to them like he did. Almost all of his films took place in his native home of Chicago and he is widely credited as discovering the teenage talents of the 80s referred to as the Brat Pack, a troupe which consisted of Ringwald, Anthony Michael Hall, Emilio Estevez, Andrew McCarthy, and many others.

Besides teen pictures, an examination of Hughes’ entire filmography reveals that he dabbed in a wide range of genres and subjects with characters of all ages. He’s written and produced consistently for romantic comedies, effects romps, family fare, slapstick comedies, and domestic dissections. In honor of Hughes’ rich and inspiring career, I’ve highlighted significant and overlooked films in both his directing and screenwriting endeavors that are not to be missed by any cinephile:

National Lampoon’s Vacation (1983)
It was Hughes’ third screenplay (after National Lampoon’s Class Reunion and Mr. Mom) and he was already proving to have a wonderful ear for the everyday plights and chemistry of the American family unit. Vacation is a movie of endless hilarity, one that cleverly pulls bruising humor from family tensions on a road trip. Almost anyone who’s ever been on a family trip can sympathize strongly with the events on screen, events that are played to side-splitting comic extremes. This is strongly felt in Chevy Chase’s priceless monologue about his “quest” to complete the ultimate family vacation. The script serves as a wonderful display of Hughes’ talents for fusing great truths with sharp humor.

Sixteen Candles (1984)
It was the film that launched Molly Ringwald’s career and announced Hughes’ major new presence in a major new genre. With her short red hair and freckles, Ringwald wasn’t your typical teen beauty queen, but her deep romantic yearnings and intelligent observations made her instantly to-die-for. In telling the story of a teenage girl having the worst birthday of her life, Hughes and Ringwald brought a fresh and observant look into the life of a teenage girl that had rarely been seen in movies before. While most female teen characters had been portrayed as sex objects, Ringwald blew stereotypes out of the water with her inner desires, fears, and musings being allowed to lay bare on the silver screen.

The Breakfast Club (1985)
What happens when you lock a brain (Anthony Michael Hall), an athlete (Emilio Estevez), a basket case (Ally Sheedy), a princess (Ringwald), and a criminal (Judd Nelson) in a room together? You get the pure cinematic embodiment of teenage angst. In telling the story of a group of wildly different high school students forced to endure a Saturday detention together, Hughes introduced high school archetypes we’d see in film time and time again. Yet he dissected their inner-psychology and deepest ideals in a surprisingly penetrating way that Hollywood has tried to duplicate ever since. The film not only catapulted the fresh faces of the Brat Pack to new heights but also marked a self-conscious turning point for the teen genre. When Entertainment Weekly named the film the Best High School Movie ever made, there were very few arguments opposing it.

Weird Science (1985)
It seems highly improbable that sci-fi fantasy and teenage honesty could co-exist in the same movie, but Weird Science proves it can be quite the winning combination. The film follows two high school losers (Anthony Michael Hall and Ilan Mitchell-Smith) who set out to create their dream woman with the assistance of computer technology. What they get is Lisa (Kelly LeBrock), a sexpot genie who uses her magical powers to fulfill the boys’ dreams and give them one of the wildest weekends the big screen has ever seen. Despite the effects-heavy theatrics, the film still wonderfully exemplifies Hughes gift for the hilarious and the touching. Hall’s drunken imitation of a bluesman and the boys’ run-in with a bizarre biker gang are still wildly uproarious scenes and Oingo Boingo’s main theme is still a fun and likeable dance tune. As our teen heroes go from hormonal geeks to sensitive young men in the course of a single weekend, we’re utterly surprised by how convinced we are by the film’s sincerity.

Pretty in Pink (1986)
It seemed here that Hughes’ script was playing off of the ancient plot of the poor girl who falls for the nice rich boy, but it proved to be an effective outlet for thoughtful teenage revelations. The film once again saw Ringwald in the role of a sensitive everygirl who pines for the class hunk, this time a popular rich kid played by Andrew McCarthy. Although it feels like one of Hughes’ more lightweight efforts, it still proved to be a knowing portrait of the typical high school caste system, in which kids from different cliques and classes mingle and clash with each other on a daily basis. If nothing else, the film serves as a wonderful memento for celebrated 80s trends and music that dominated the era. Those who recall the film remember strongly Ringwald’s wildly creative and pink-drenched stylings along with the cherished new wave track “If You Leave” by Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark.

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986)
Hughes’ single best work and Matthew Broderick’s single best performance, this teen comedy became an unlikely masterpiece of feel-good optimism. Broderick stars in the title role as Ferris Bueller, a charming and popular high school rogue who skips school to take his depressed best friend and lovely girlfriend on an epic day trip to Chicago. The character of Ferris stands with Marty McFly as one of the coolest teenage creations to ever grace the silver screen. While most teenage characters come across as immature or inadequate, Bueller’s smoldering confidence, nailed with winning conviction by Broderick, was endlessly refreshing. Hughes, a big fan of The Beatles, modeled the film’s tone after the spirit of A Hard Day’s Night, and his film has the earlier one’s same appealing sense of zestful, energetic fun (Ferris is an obvious soul brother of John Lennon, apparent when he lip-syncs to The Beatles’ “Twist and Shout”). Critic Richard Roeper once referred to this film as an “anti-suicide film” and the film truly earns that unlikely title. For as Ferris’ best friend Cameron sinks into hopelessness and self-loathing, he is taught by our swaggering hero that liberating yourself from the mundane and finding the grand joy in life’s simple pleasures is the best way to live life.

Some Kind of Wonderful (1987)
Hughes’ screenplay here might have been one of his more watered-down teen efforts, but it inspired some of the most tact and touching performances of any of his works. The film is basically Pretty in Pink with the gender roles reversed: a poor and artsy high school student (Eric Stoltz) pines for a rich hottie (Lea Thompson) while his quirky best friend (Mary Stuart Masterson) harbors secret feelings for him. While it’s not as trendy or colorful as Pretty in Pink, it’s certainly more relaxed and down-to-earth. The true interest in this film is watching gifted teen actors who’ve never worked with a Hughes script before deliver wonderful performances (especially Elias Koteas, doing a refreshing riff on the high school bully archetype). The film would mark Hughes’ final foray into the high school universe and it’s certainly an exceptional note to leave on.

The Great Outdoors (1988)
After working within the world of teenage angst, Hughes decided to dabble once again in a story about an American family on vacation. This time, Hughes showed us what happens when two in-laws (John Candy and Dan Aykroyd) and their respective families clash in a lakeside resort area. Not only does this film pull some of the best work from its leading actors, but it paints a hysterically accurate portrait of vacationing in the big American wilderness. From kooky locals to wild animals, this film got just about everything right when it comes to suburbanites tackling the outdoors. Any family whose ever vacationed by a lake can sympathize greatly with the events in this film.

Uncle Buck (1988)
Almost every family has that one Uncle: that goofy, loser kind with a shabby lifestyle and shady background. Uncle Buck is like a backhanded love letter to Uncles like that everywhere. John Candy gives one of his best performances as the title character, a kind-hearted yet under-achieving slob who agrees to watch over his nieces and nephews while their parents are out of town. While it’s one of the more dysfunctional portraits of family life Hughes has displayed, he effectively conveys the nice message that sometimes it takes broken people to make us whole again. Yet Candy is the best reason to see this film, with almost everything he says and does in this film being comic gold.

National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (1989)
He showed us a family taking on the great American road trip, then he showed us a family taking on the great American wilderness, then Hughes solidified his mastery of American family tales by showing us the great American Christmas in all its essence. Christmas Vacation is one of the all-time great holiday movies, a film that shows the good, the bad, and the ugly when it comes to family gatherings at Christmas. Hughes’ script displayed a wonderful balance between cynical honesty and slapstick humor that future holiday films would fumble hopelessly with. From wrestling with Christmas trees to manic adventures in sleigh riding, almost everyone can see themselves and their relatives in this essential holiday romp.

Home Alone (1990)
An eight-year-old boy is left all alone to defend his house from two villainous thieves who wish to break in and wreak havoc. Although this sounds like quite the terrifying concept, John Hughes’ turned this idea into a screenplay of endless chuckles and created one of the highest grossing comedies of all time. Macaulay Culkin stars in one of the best child comic performances of all-time as Kevin, a child who is accidentally left behind after his elaborate family departs for a vacation in France. Pretty soon, he’s at a battle of wills with Joe Pesci and Daniel Stern, who play what could be the definitive bumbling criminals of American cinema. The film is an extremely hilarious view of how an 8-year-old would conduct suburban life in complete isolation and there’s great fun to be had when Kevin stages elaborate traps for his would-be captors. Hughes’ script may have launched a peculiar sub-genre of smart kids who battle idiot grown-ups, but this work is most celebrated for being a family comedy that can honestly make people of all ages and all generations laugh endlessly.

Career Opportunities (1991)
What would it be like to be locked in a Target store for an entire night? A strange question, but one that John Hughes’ offbeat script for Career Opportunities delightfully answers. Frank Whaley stars as an astonishingly delusional small-town liar who takes a job as a night janitor at Target. He spends his first night shift playing with everything in the store until he makes the surprising discovery that the town babe (Jennifer Connelly) accidentally got herself locked in with him for the night. It’s not one of Hughes’ major scripts, but it’s nonetheless a unique meditation on small-town boredom and twenty-something angst. Plus I still fall into hysterics every time I watch Whaley tear through that Target and its products like his own personal playground!

Home Alone 2: Lost in New York (1992)
How in God’s name do you make a sequel to Home Alone? What kind of family forgets their kid again? That film’s astronomical box office business made a sequel hopelessly inevitable and we were very blessed that John Hughes wrote one that was just as creative and adventurous as the first one. Hughes actually came up with an ingenious and exciting way to once again separate Kevin from his family and pit him against Pesci and Stern’s bumbling thieves: an airport mix-up places Kevin in New York City where his thieving enemies are plotting their next heist. We’ve seen New York City displayed wonderfully on the big screen before, but we never realized how fun and unique it would look through the eyes of a child (especially considering the gags that unfold in the Plaza Hotel). It’s a pretty accomplished feat that this sequel takes the formula from the first film and takes it to more humorous and exciting heights. I must also give serious credit to this film for introducing the Talkboy, which is probably the most enjoyable toy I ever possessed in my youth.

While his later works were heavily indulgent in slapstick and kitsch, almost nothing in Hughes’ filmography could overshadow his breakthrough revelations in the teen angst and family comedy genres. Although he would sometimes play up caricatures and overly self-conscious dialogue that would make Quentin Tarantino and Kevin Smith smile, there was always a consistent pulse of color and honesty through his films that separated his works from the mundane. Anytime you find yourself looking at smart teenagers or funny family vacations on the big screen, a debt of some kind is owed to Hughes. Looking back over Hughes’ filmography, you can’t help but think of one of his best quotes, one that also serves as the most important lesson to be learned in almost each of his films: “Life moves pretty fast. You don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

A Long, Hard Look at What's 'Funny'

by Brett Parker

There’s a wonderful sequence halfway through Judd Apatow’s Funny People that is very telling about the film itself. A famous comedian named George Simmons (Adam Sandler) is doing a stand-up act for an audience at an improv club. George begins singing a goofy song about being a famous clown saying goodnight to his audience. The lyrics are laced with a dry cynicism yet are basked in a playful silliness the audience relishes. The performance plays over a montage of clips showing George in his real life, which appears to be endless moments of despair, misery, loneliness, anger, and regret. We realize that the pain that consumes George in his everyday life has snuck into this shrewd comic number and we don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

It’s become a well-known reflection that the funniest comedians find their material through their deepest misery. The pain and inadequacies that haunt their daily lives can easily translate into the best ammunition for their stand-up routines. As Angela Carter once observed, “comedy is tragedy that happens to other people.” I don’t think any fictional film has ever captured this ideal as wonderfully as Funny People, a film that knows quite a lot about both comedy and tragedy. Not only is this film a revealing look at the inner-workings of the comedy trade, but also a stunningly poignant portrait of a selfish mope who reveals clueless morals in the face of death and possible redemption.

We first meet George Simmons on his way to a doctor’s office, approached by countless fans with cameras on the way in. George started out as a stand-up comedian who rose to great fame by doing commercial comedies that raked in millions of dollars and fans worldwide. George has spent his life sleep-walking through money, women, comedy albums, cinematic trash, and loathing until that fateful trip to the doctor’s office puts a brick wall straight in his path. He is diagnosed with a form of Leukemia that is very fatal and can only be treated with experimental medicine from another country. He is told he only has a short time to live. While most people would seek comfort in their family and friends, George begins to realize that his fame and narcissism has isolated him from most people and he in fact has no one of any great significance left in his world (“I’m glad you don’t know me,” he tells his estranged sister).

Needing something to do in the face of mortality, George decides to put himself back into the stand-up circuit. He pops up for a surprise set at a famed stand-up club but that proves to be a lackluster stunt, displaying George’s comic rust (“I think I can hear the highway from here,” he observes bravely from the crowd’s silence). While at the club, George encounters Ira Wright (Seth Rogen), a struggling comedian still trying to find confidence with the microphone. George is rather off-put by Ira’s bumbling oafishness, yet out of an exhausted need he recruits Ira to be his personal assistant and writer. Pretty soon, Ira is tagging along as George’s sidekick in the world of comic fame, flying around on private jets, hanging out in a mansion, and discovering that his famous employer has an approaching date with death. I will not reveal what happens next, just to say that certain events lead George to try and reclaim a former lover (Leslie Mann) from her Australian husband (Eric Bana) while Ira gets seriously fed up with George’s selfish behavior.

I don’t think any other film has ever looked as deeply into the world of comedians as Funny People does. The funny men here aren’t portrayed as goofballs trying to yuck each other up, but rather business people working at a trade and trying to perfect it. We see stand-ups sharing written material with each other back stage, a superstar comedian who sells out to family comedies like Merman and My Best Friend is a Robot, a peek into the making of a generic, single-camera sitcom, and the rapid growth of ego that occurs once a comedian places a career victory under their belt. The comedians we see in the film are friends and respectful of each other, yet the comic world has become a trade of such tight competition that their relationships and motives take on a sort of intelligible fragility. Jonah Hill, for example, plays one of Ira’s friends, but isn’t the usual bromantic comic relief; he is extremely knowing about his craft and plugs away tenaciously to climb the ladder of the business. There’s a nice scene where he flips out on Ira for robbing him of a writing opportunity. We expected to see a movie with extremely hilarious characters, but to see these characters show us how hilarity works and how it is carefully constructed for the public is enormously appealing and refreshes us from the normal bromantic comedy conventions.

Funny People is the third film from Judd Apatow, after The 40-Year-Old Virgin and Knocked Up, and it shows him elevating away from being just an exceptional comic director towards a surprising artist of humanism. We feel like he’s trying to become Cameron Crowe with this being his Jerry Maguire (the presence here of that film’s cinematographer, Janusz Kaminski, only strengthens that idea). Crowe’s film also examined a successful career man who is walloped with a life-altering blow that forces him to reevaluate what is of true value in life. While Jerry Maguire learned valuable lessons about love and family, George Simmons really never transcends his jaded narcissism. He’s a selfish and temperamental jerk before his death sentence and he shows very little signs of change after he lives through it. It’s rather jarring to see George succumb to his old habits so easily. George’s personality allows us to reflect on the human cost of the alienation that haunts comic celebrity.

George’s unusual journey is elevated by the surprisingly vivid and complex performance from Adam Sandler, giving his best work since Punch-Drunk Love. While aspects of George’s life are obviously biographical (it’s fun matching up George’s filmography to the real life counterparts of Sandler’s own films), it seems that Sandler is showing us a dark vision of how he could’ve turned out in life if he had been exceedingly arrogant and obtuse. The performance unexpectedly shakes you. Seth Rogen displays his usual schlubby charms but it’s refreshing to see it portrayed more realistically here and not as some kind of strange, new-age romanticism as Knocked Up did. Plus I’m reminded that Eric Bana is usually at his most colorful and inventive when he uses his own Australian accent.

Judd Apatow’s real life wife and daughters, Leslie Mann and Maude & Iris Apatow, show up as the woman and family George wishes to claim for himself. Despite the obvious nepotism, it must be said that these ladies are very touching and genuine. We wouldn’t want anyone else in these roles. The film’s only major problem, however, is that it lingers too heavily on their subplot. The film clocks in at roughly two and a half hours, a trying length for any comedy. Most of the film feels like a breeze until it hits this section and becomes rather taxing. Most of these scenes could’ve been cut from the film and we’d still get the point trying to be made. Perhaps because he was filming his own family, which he obviously loves dearly, Apatow couldn’t resist taking away their screen time.

Despite the obvious pacing problems, Funny People is perhaps Apatow’s best film thus far. It reaches for further human heights than The 40-Year-Old Virgin and it blows Knocked Up’s clunky romantics right out of the water. We feel Apatow growing with his camera, yearning for more visual beauty and emotional revelations. If Apatow continues to labor beyond even this career high, then he will truly have some special cinematic surprises for us on the horizon. Hopefully they’ll be just as hilarious as everything else he does.

'(500) Days of Summer': A Break-Up Masterpiece

by Brett Parker

It would appear seemingly difficult to pull off a very effective break-up film when you think about it. If you make one that vividly captures the seething pain and heartbreaking misery of such an experience, you risk making a film that is a relentless downer and unpleasant to watch. If you make one that tries to put a sunny and optimistic spin on things, you may skewer painfully honest details that are needed to keep things realistic. Very rarely has the cinema treated us to a view on the subject that can skillfully balance both of those ideals.

That’s why (500) Days of Summer is such a miracle; here is one of the most relatable and honest portraits of relationships ever put on film, and it’s a wildly inventive film-going experience as well. First time director Marc Webb announces his presence with a zestful and creative play on romantic comedy conventions all while conveying a exceedingly sympathetic view of contemporary dating. I’m not going to beat around the bush here; this film could very well overthrow both Casablanca and High Fidelity to become the best break-up movie ever made.

When we first meet Tom Hansen (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), he is smashing dishes in his kitchen and wallowing in misery. As his little sister Rachel (Chloe Moretz) goes to comfort him, we learn that he has just gone through a difficult break-up with a woman he was hopelessly in love with. Desperate to figure out what went wrong, Rachel simply tells him to “start from the beginning.” Tom begins to flash back through the doomed romance and recalls the first time he encountered Summer (Zooey Dechanel), the gorgeous and enigmatic girlfriend who would eventually break his heart. Tom first met Summer when they worked together at a greeting card company. Summer is a true beauty who has great taste in all things and quirky insights that could interest any guy. After one conversation, Tom becomes instantly hooked. Tom is a huge believer in true love and he feels he has what it takes to win her romantic affections. That proves to be a very difficult feat to pull off, for Summer has skeptical and cynical views of love and wants to live her life in full independence. She’s attracted to Tom and enjoys his company, but she fails to feel as head-over-heels as Tom does about their arrangement.

The film randomly examines crucial days throughout this turbulent relationship in an out-of-order manner (the days are labeled by number and the film will randomly jump from, say, Day 72 to 300 and back to 8). We see Tom and Summer slowly go from friends with benefits to a somewhat actual couple. We see them dissolve from playful lovers into disillusioned realists. One moment they’re making love in the shower and in the next, they’re growing exhausted with each others quirks. Most painfully of all, we witness Tom transforming from a bright-eyed romantic into a broken and depressed cynic.

Very rarely in cinema will a film be an exact representation of passages in your own life, so it’s rather stunning to see (500) Days of Summer coming within an inch of my own personal experiences. This is a relationship film told from the male perspective and almost any guy watching the film will be very surprised to see how much this film gets right. There isn’t one situation or one piece of dialogue in this film that any healthy male hasn’t experienced in his actual love life. We’ve all been spellbound by a beauty such as Summer and just as frustratingly perplexed by their feminine complexities. We’ve all obsessed over the signs and body language women convey with great ambiguity while trying to figure out what labels best describe the relationship. And we’ve all had our hearts destroyed by a woman we cared deeply for, for reasons we’ll never fully understand.

Gordon-Levitt and Deschanel pull off a very peculiar acting feat together: they create characters that are wholly original and unmistakably theirs, yet they are so strongly sympathetic that they could fully represent any one of us and people we’ve dated in our own lives. Gordon-Levitt sidesteps making Tom pathetic and neurotic and simply presents him as a sincere guy trying his very best to figure out matters of the heart. A scene in which he highlights the absurdities of true love to a company board meeting is truly gut-wrenching. Dechanel is canny in the way she makes Summer both a lovely and frustrating woman. We can certainly see why Tom is obsessed with her; she’s truly beautiful and refreshingly offbeat. Yet we become perplexed by her once she grows cold and careless towards Tom’s feelings. This would seem jarring if it weren’t so painfully accurate of most unobtainable beauties. I’ve dated so many girls with Summer’s contradictive qualities that the performance grows rather haunting.

Marc Webb has spent his career thus far specializing in music videos (he showed delightful skill in the video for The All-American Rejects’ “Gives You Hell”) and has now declared himself a major new cinematic presence with a style that is both achingly realistic and creatively self-reflexive. Webb decorates the film with playful flourishes that highlights the emotional bases of the story. As Tom celebrates his first time sleeping with Summer, he is accompanied by a cheering crowd, a marching band, an animated bird, Harrison Ford’s approval, and Hall & Oates’ “You Make My Dreams.” There’s a funny sequence where Tom imagines himself in several art house classics, vicariously living out his anguish through art. In the film’s best scene, Tom attends a party thrown by Summer with high hopes to win her back after a break. Webb employs a split-screen technique to show simultaneously what Tom dreams will happen at the party versus what actually happens at the party. These are only a few of the many visual delights to behold throughout this heartfelt dazzler.

Put simply, (500) Days of Summer is the kind of film I’ve been yearning to see for most of my life. I went though my first romantic break-up when I was 16 and, like most heartbroken teenagers, I felt like my world was shaken-up. Seeking escape from the pain, I sought comfort in my all-time-favorite hobby: the movies. I thought it’d be wise to take in films that directly dealt with the subject of breaking-up yet I was disheartened to find that most of their endings were unrealistic. The films would usually start off with the male hero having his heartbroken by a beautiful woman and by film’s end, he would either get back with that very woman or find another one of equal beauty and greater kindness. Most men will agree that pulling off such a feat isn’t so easy in the real world. I wondered why there couldn’t be a break-up film where a guy loses a girl but then learns that there are more fulfilling things in life than just being in a romantic relationship. What if a guy were to take all that passionate energy and use it towards family, friends, personal success, or helping others? I would later discover that Casablanca and High Fidelity were the strongest representations of these peculiar ideals, but now (500) Days of Summer just might be the new heavyweight champion. To be a thoroughly realistic portrayal of dating that executes such strong optimism in the third act is some kind of wonderful. This film is an accumulation of everything I’ve ever wanted to see in a relationship movie.

Midway through the film, Tom and Summer take in a screening of The Graduate and have completely opposite reactions in their readings of the film. Tom sees it as a film with a happy message about love while Summer is overwhelmed by the underlying sadness hidden within the ending. I can see future generations of filmgoers getting worked up over (500) Days of Summer the way Tom and Summer observe The Graduate. This one’s the real deal and I truly believe it will stand the test of time to be seen as one of the most superior of romantic comedies. Don’t for one second think this is typical date movie territory. This is an emotional wallop that knows how to put a smile on your face and a lump in your throat at the same time.

To read my original article on the best Break-Up films ever made, check out http://thecinephilenewyork.blogspot.com/2008/06/top-5-break-up-films-of-all-time.html