Those 'Fockers' Stole My Money!

by Brett Parker

There are certain movies that leave room for sequels to be made and others that leave moviegoers scratching their heads as to how their premise could possibly live on from its self-contained state. Back in 2000, no one could’ve possibly guessed that a sequel could be made to the hit romp Meet the Parents. It was a likeable enough comedy, one that played upon anxieties and awkward feelings over meeting a loved one’s family. As the neurotic nurse Ben Stiller clashed with Robert De Niro in the form of his sweet girlfriend’s totalitarian father, madcap hijinks and manic slapstick put domestic formalities through the ringer. Yet the film had an undeniable American appeal, for almost every American can relate to the tension and peculiarities of interacting with another suburban family. It was a slight comedy, but cherished for its poppy and light-hearted appeal. It rung every laugh it possibly could out of its clever social angle.

The film’s shrewd use of Stiller’s awkwardness and De Niro’s self-kidding seriousness generated big bucks at the box office, leading Studio Executives to demand a sequel, creative juices be damned! This eventually led to Meet the Fockers, an inferior yet engaging sequel that threw De Niro in the whimsical and zany clutches of Dustin Hoffman and Barbara Streisand as Stiller’s oddball parents. It almost goes without saying that the sequel was less-than-inspired from the first time around, but our attention was sustained from the quirky jolts Hoffman and Streisand added to their roles. Not only was Fockers another hit, but it also became surprisingly cherished in hindsight from the moviegoing public. Countless suburbanites could relate to the plights of in-laws co-mingling and trying to function as one dysfunctional unit. The Meet the Parents series had emerged as a fun-house mirror of comic release anxiety for domestic anxieties.

Fockers box office run also hit the jackpot, leading to the announcement of yet another sequel. This announcement not only caused intelligent moviegoers to groan with dread but even the Fockers most devoted fans to scratch their heads. How could you possibly squeeze any more comic juice out of a worn-down premise? Are there any more stories to tell? Any gags that might’ve gone overlooked? When the title of the new film was revealed to be Little Fockers, it became instantly assumed that the film would deal with Stiller and De Niro tackling the world of child rearing. A little bit of hope was sensed, for Stiller and De Niro clashing over parenting methods was bound to produce….something.

As it turns out, Little Fockers has little interest in the subject of raising children. Its real aim is to revel in sitcom clichés of the lowest order. It’s a frivolous, laughless trudge in search of any kind of comic inspiration. To call the film’s gags unfunny and mind-numbing would be an understatement. The saddest sight is seeing such a talented cast sleepwalking through tired roles with such low energy. You can literally see them both yearning for and deeply regretting their apparent paydays. If the film does one thing effectively, it’s to demonstrate the epitome of shameless, money-grubbing sequel-making in all its bare essence.

The new sequel further follows the misadventures of the Fockers clan, in which trusty Nurse Greg Focker (Stiller) is trying to raise his own family with his wife Pam (Teri Polo). This time around, they’ve welcomed the addition of twins: the intelligent Samantha (Daisy Tahan) and the goofy Henry (Colin Baiocchi). While trying to raise their youngsters, they are constantly under the watchful eye of Jack Byrnes (De Niro), Pam’s overprotective father who tries to impose his retired CIA tactics on his family life. This time around, Jack’s health appears to be fading and he is hoping Greg fully has what it takes to be the new main patriarch of the family.

Greg wants very much to be a confident leader of his family, but complicated wrenches start to get thrown into his life from all different angles. He tries hard to get his twins into a distinguished boarding school, but Henry’s intelligence doesn’t seem to be up to par. He tries to get his newly-purchased home furnished, but a sneaky contractor (Harvey Keitel) is slow to get the job done. Greg has also been asked to front a new Erectile-Dysfunction drug by a sexy pharmaceutical rep (Jessica Alba) who plagues him with cheating thoughts and erection hijinks. Plus the re-emergence of Pam’s former fiancé, Kevin (Owen Wilson), doesn’t help matters either.

I suppose one could see the potential in a sequel such as this. If the first two films covered courtship and integration, then the only fruitful base left to cover is parenthood. Since raising kids can be a tricky, stressful, and delightful aspect of life that most moviegoers can strongly relate to, then this subject is ripe with comic opportunities. Getting ready for school, dinnertime hijinks, dealing with snooty teachers, teaching youngsters adult ways-all of these aspects could certainly supply big laughs for a suburban sitcom. Yet Little Fockers fails at every turn to find such laughs within its plot. The scary thing is that it doesn’t even appear to try. It seems more content with going through the motions of routine gags we’ve seen done endlessly and more confidently in past films. That the filmmakers think the audience is dumb enough to buy these flat routines is rather unsettling.

Most pointless sequels usually have a desperate need to jump-the-shark once the filmmakers realize there is little originality left to unearth. They typically find preposterous ways to go over-the-top, hoping we don’t notice how far the material has drifted away from the wit and charms of the original film. As Little Fockers begins, things seem grounded enough and there’s hope for a sequel that keeps things down-to-earth and about the characters. Stiller and Alba have a bizarrely sweet moment involving an uncomfortable medical procedure while De Niro and Keitel hold a small, heated argument that faintly recalls Mean Streets. But pretty soon, the plot jumps off the deep-end and we’re hit with a chorus line of stupid gags. There’s vomiting, blood-splattering, sexual nonsense, and, I kid you not, a scene in which Greg injects a shot of adrenaline into Jack’s penis. I’d explain how this comes about, but since there are no laughs or joy to be held from this development, why bother?

As I watched this super-talented cast doggedly go through the motions, desperately wishing they were elsewhere, unsettling thoughts began to creep through my mind: are big Hollywood paychecks really worth it to these actors for enduring crap like this? Can a price truly be placed on an actor’s dignity? For every Greenberg Stiller wants to make, does he also have to make a Little Fockers? In our youthful years, the idealists within us promise to always stick by our morals and tastes while never selling out to a big paycheck. Yet if you grow older, and fame and fortune is thrust upon you, must you compromise those very ideals to upkeep the paychecks and the lifestyle? Is it really worth it to do so? I ask because the Cast obviously could’ve been doing much better work and was obviously doing this strictly for the money (Hoffman tried to resist, but he was swayed by the studio into a minimal amount of screen time). I know this is deep thinking for a disposable sitcom, but so empty is Little Fockers that such troubling thoughts are bound to enter your mind.

So as we throw Little Fockers in the cinematic trash bin, let’s be optimists here. Let’s hope Ben Stiller recovers from this thud and goes on to deliver uproarious comedy as he’s done in the past. Let’s hope Robert De Niro wakes up, reclaims his artistic integrity, and stops sleepwalking through such laughable nonsense. And let’s hope Director Paul Weitz returns to the skill and inspiration he displayed with About A Boy, one of my ten favorite films of all time. And let’s hope and pray that the Focker clan is done once and for all with the big screen.

BY THE WAY: It’s become a thing of legend how dedicated a method actor the young Robert De Niro used to be. In his younger years, he slept in an open grave, mastered the Sicilian language, gained untold amounts of weight, and paid a dentist to mess up his teeth in order to get into various characters. If the younger De Niro had shown up in Little Fockers, he probably would’ve put a syringe in his penis for real! Then again, the younger De Niro would’ve balked at appearing in such dreck in the first place! Oh, the things time does to us!

The 'Soul' of a Misguided Slasher Flick

by Brett Parker

It is Wes Craven who will be remembered in cinematic history as a main maestro of the slasher flick. While most films of this genre can be callow, nihilistic, and uninspired, Craven has demonstrated more thought, creativity, and shock with his endeavors. He first made his mark with the gritty viciousness of The Last House on the Left, shocking audiences into realizing what a horror film could potentially evolve into. His made a name for himself with A Nightmare on Elm Street, creating a juicy fantasy premise to milk all kinds of grotesque horrors never seen before in this subgenre. And Craven wasn’t above putting his own genre through the self-reflexive ringer, brilliantly dissecting its parts in the Scream series and playfully poking fun at it with Cursed.

My Soul to Take is Craven’s first feature-length horror endeavor since 2005’s Red Eye, and on the surface, it appears to hold more thought and creative juice than the mindless slasher flicks haunting the multiplex these days. Yet to endure the film on viewing curiously proves to be a daunting and empty experience. This juicy idea of a blood fest is hopelessly skewered by an over-complicated central plot and seriously misguided performances. It wanders around in a lack of humor, irony, or relevance and it lacks the fun jolts of excitement and terror Craven certainly knows how to dish out.

In the sleepy American town of Riverton, seven teenagers are bound by the fact that they all share the same birthday: there’s the psychologically troubled Bug (Max Thierriot), the quirky Alex (John Magaro), the blind Jerome (Denzel Whitaker), the religious Penelope (Zena Grey), the cruel jock Brandon (Nick Lashaway), the class crush Brittany (Paulina Olszynski), and the…well…average teen Jay (Jeremy Chu). The dreadful fact about the day of their birth was that it was also the day that the Riverton Ripper, a serial killer who preyed on the town, had died. Before his death, the Ripper vowed to one day come back, in some kind of form, and murder each of the seven children born that very night.

The day after their 16^th birthdays, Jay is found brutally murdered under a bridge and it is believed that the legend is, in fact, coming true. Pretty soon, each fateful teens becomes picked off one-by-one, meeting their ends by grisly, blood-soaked deaths. The surviving teens begin to ponder the tangibility of the Ripper himself: did the Ripper truly live on after the supposed night of his death, or does his soul inhabit the body of one of the kids from beyond the grave? A way to unlock this mystery may lie in the mind of Bug, who appears to suffer from schizophrenia and sees disturbing hallucinations related to the ripper. Can Bug find out who the Ripper truly is, or could he perhaps be inhabited by the Ripper’s soul himself?

From everything I just described, it would seem as if My Soul to Take has a distinctive concept that isn’t as mundane as most disposable slasher flicks. Indeed, I noticed that the film spends a lot more time focused on character dialogue than it does on blood-splattering. The problem, however, is that the film spends way too much time discussing its overly-complicated backstory instead of letting the apparent horror of the situation soak in. The film’s plot has more details and set-ups than a Russian novel and we never get a full handle on the Ripper’s legend. Most details come across pretty vague or spelled-out in a casually confusing manner. Craven’s Nightmare on Elm Street may have had an elaborate backstory as well, but the concept of Freddy Krueger was rooted in a simple-enough concept of primal fear to connect with audiences. Freddy Krueger was a simple monster explained in an expertly complicated manner while the Riverton Ripper is a complicated monster explained in too simple of terms.

The cast offers up the usual archetypes of the high school slasher hierarchy, but they suffer mostly from miscasting or clunky characterizations. Lashaway is too much of a stick-thin creep to be an intimidating bully while Olszynski is too baby-faced and innocent to be a carnal sexpot. Grey looks her part and tries to flow with conviction, but her character is inflated to too many caricature extremes. Same goes for Emily Meade as Fang (Yeah…seriously! You tell me!), Bug’s bad-girl little sister. To say her angry beating of her older brother is overwrought would be a tremendous understatement. As for Bug himself, Thierriot seems like a fresh-faced and sincere-enough actor, but he lacks the eccentric angles that could make his looney character really come to life. Perhaps a more brooding and dangerous actor was needed to breathe authenticity into an inauthentic character.

While most slasher flicks of today are handed over to cheap and inexperienced directors, the good news here is that Craven has developed a tact and skill through his experience that at least shows in the film’s look and feel. The film’s look, from Director of Photography Petra Korner (The Wackness, The Informers) demonstrates a texture and sense of atmosphere most slasher flicks don’t even bother with. And while most of the film’s plot is hokey nonsense, Craven at least tries to make it vibrate with a sense of dread and urgency. Too bad the acting and writing isn’t there to back him up. Perhaps if Craven had more experienced actors and a more biting, whip-smart script (two things he had with Scream), we could see ourselves caring about his latest outing.

Wes Craven has delivered many pivotal things to this genre and I believe he still has it in him to make a few more gems (Scream 4 is on the horizon…that promises to be interesting), but My Soul to Take proves to be an instantly forgettable entry into his filmography. I love the Halloween season and I always relish a good horror movie during this time, but the real terror is the fact that I can’t get my money or time back from this dud.

The 'Boy' Who Would Be John Lennon

by Brett Parker

In the 1950s, a young Liverpool teen named John asks his mother, “why couldn’t God have made me Elvis?” Her answer: “he was saving you for John Lennon!” And what a wonderful thing being John Lennon would turn out to be! He gets to be the lead singer of the most commercially successful and critically acclaimed rock band in musical history. He gets to be one of the most seminal songwriters of all time, forever revolutionizing pop and rock. He gets to be a champion to free spirits everywhere, who celebrate his eternal message of “love is all you need.” He gets to be a rock legend, an icon, a force of nature.

But there was a time when John Lennon was not fully aware of the important man he would one day become. There was a time when he was just a defenseless and confused teenager like so many are. There was a time when he was lost in the world, plagued by self-doubt and in search of his own identity. Nowhere Boy is a fascinating new film that examines these early years in Lennon’s life, revealing the personal turmoil and turbulent family life that embedded in him the personality traits that would make him a legend. It isn’t so much interested in his literal path to eventual fame but his emotional path to creative genius, rooted in both contagious joy and unsettling torment.

We first meet Lennon (Aaron Johnson) as a playful yet guarded teenager growing up in the Liverpool home of his Aunt Mimi (Kristin Scott Thomas) and Uncle George (David Threlfall). When he isn’t skipping school and pulling hijinks with his friend, Pete (Josh Bolt), John enjoys fun activities with his Uncle George, who is a wily joker compared with the no-nonsense Mimi. One night, tragedy strikes and George drops dead of a heart attack. At the funeral, John spots a noticeable woman at the funeral. This woman may or may not be his birth mother. After some inter-family investigating, John not only discovers that the woman is, in fact, his mother, but lives only a few blocks away in the same neighborhood.

John is completely floored by this revelation, but decides to finally seek her out anyways. Soon enough, he’s at the doorstep of Julia (Anne-Marie Duff), the childlike sister of Mimi who gave up her son for ambiguous reasons. Despite the ocean of unresolved tension between them, John and Julia lovingly embrace each other and soon enough spend every afternoon together living it up. The bouncy and free-spirited Julia even introduces John to the sexual and dangerous allure of rock and roll (once he lays eyes on Elvis Presley, he’s hooked). Although Mimi voices serious concerns over this maternal interaction, John has found a lively new outlet in life; there’s no turning back.

Caught in a whirlwind of confusing and liberating emotions, John decides the best way to channel his energy is by forming a rock and roll band. A great confidence is instilled in him after Julia gives him extensive musical lessons in piano and guitar. He rounds up a group of eager youths like himself and forms The Quarrymen, a rock band that mostly covers the tunes of Elvis, Buddy Holly, and other groups from the era. A crucial meeting occurs when he meets Paul (Thomas Sangster), another talented young guitarist. Despite their personality differences, they are united by their inner-wounds and songwriting talents. As The Quarrymen have a jolly good time taking off, family drama threatens to undo Lennon. Not only does Mimi and Julia’s maternal rivalry heat up, but shocking revelations about Julia’s abandonment of John resurface that forever leave a mark on his heart.

Even if you aren’t much of a fan of The Beatles, Nowhere Boy still works as a careful character drama depicting the effects a turbulent family life can have on the shaping of an adolescent and how those effects can fuel an artistic outlet with great relish. However, if you’re a Beatles maniac like I am, you’ll be completely enthralled by witnessing the young Lennon transforming from awkward teenager to vibrant artist. As he bounces between the conflicting throes of Mimi and Julia, we can see the famous Lennon persona beginning to take shape: he inhabits Julia’s zestful free-spirit and rock and roll energy while also absorbing Mimi’s brutal bluntness and headstrong logic. Director Sam Taylor-Wood wisely doesn’t pound us over the head with these significant changes in Lennon’s life but allows the tactful subtlety of the performances to implicate how one of the great personas in rock history was formed by the heat of primal emotions.

Of course there’s great delight in watching the Young John Lennon forming his legendary partnership with a Young Paul McCartney; the film hints exquisitely at the ying-yang tensions that helped spark the creativity of one of the greatest songwriting duos in history. Paul is the clean-cut sweetie to Lennon’s brash wild card, but they were linked by parental voids and the emotional catharsis of songwriting. The young actors playing them may not terribly resemble them closely, but they vibrate with the distinction of their souls and its great fun watching them foreshadow the greatness they will one day embody. If the film has one big misstep, it’s in the casting of Sam Bell as George Harrison, the other crucial member of The Quarrymen. Bell completely lacks the look, demeanor, and personality of Harrison that was so distinctive to true fans. Harrison just happens to be my favorite Beatle, and Mr. Bell, you are no George Harrison!

The film would indeed implode if it weren’t for the brilliant and revelatory performance from Aaron Johnson. Johnson may not resemble the Lennon we all remember, but it would be wrong for this film if he did. Johnson wisely imagines an early Lennon in the midst of discovering his gifts and its quite remarkable how his performance slowly picks up on each trait that made the man so fascinating and unforgettable. Armed with his long-faced sincerity, Johnson starts off wounded and internalized until he slowly develops the wit, exuberance, irreverence, resourcefulness, and insight that would launch Lennon towards legendary status. What’s most impressive is how Johnson burns with the creative waves that forever crashed within Lennon’s heart. There’s a wonderful scene towards the end where The Quarrymen are in a studio recording the song “In Spite of All the Danger.” As he sings the song, Lennon’s face and voice vibrate with such emotion and yearning that it elevates the tune. The inner-wounds it hints at is spellbinding.

I’m so fascinated by stories such as Nowhere Boy, stories within the “Boy-Who-Would-Be-King” Mode. We get to witness a young man on his journey towards greatness, only he doesn’t realize it yet. He will one day become an important man who will change the world, but in the meantime, he is plagued by the same inadequacies and confusion as everyday people, not realizing how important his actions and relationships will serve him in the future. Such was the story of the young John Lennon, who had to go through crippling heartbreak before liberating himself towards legendary creativity. The final scene shows Mimi asking about the new name of The Quarrymen. “Do you care?” asks Lennon. We don’t care. We already know what it is. We already know how big they will become. The fact that Lennon doesn’t quite know yet demonstrates the beauty of this film.

'It's Kind of a Funny' Movie

by Brett Parker

It’s tricky business to make a dramedy regarding mental patients at a mental hospital. If you make the patients too broad of goofy comic caricatures, then you risk dealing a great insult to those actually suffering mental disorders. If you make things too deadly serious, then you risk basking the audience in a gloomy downer. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest pretty much wrote the book on how this balancing act is done. Now comes It’s Kind of a Funny Story, a film that pulls off this balancing act so carefully that it doesn’t even try to go for the jugular. It tiptoes between depression and hilarity while attempting to dish out a strong cinematic dose of optimism. That we’re able to accept this dose without dismissing it cynically demonstrates the effect of the film.

As the film opens, we meet Craig (Keir Gilchrist), a young high schooler from New York City in the midst of great emotional anguish. He feels enormous pressure from his father (Jim Gafigan) to get into a great college or be branded a failure. He finds that he’s hopelessly in love with Nia (Zoe Kravitz), the girlfriend of his over-achieving best friend, Aaron (Thomas Mann). He is more or less consumed by the existential angst that puts its grip on most teenagers at some point in their young lives. Feeling extremely anxious, Craig contemplates suicide but suspects that’s not the answer. He decides to turn to a local Brooklyn hospital for help.

Craig is under the impression that the hospital will simply give him extra-strength meds and send him gingerly on his way, yet he is surprised to discover that he must stay in the hospital’s psych ward for a five-day period so he can be properly evaluated. It’s in this kooky ward in which Craig meets a chorus line of colorful eccentrics. His roommate hasn’t left his bed or room for months. A schizophrenic man howls endlessly throughout the building. A drugged-out rabbi begs endlessly to keep the noise down. Craig even finds a mentor of sorts in the form of Bobby (Zach Galifianakis), a shaggy depressive who seems slightly more level-headed than the other patients (not by much).

Bobby decides to show Craig the ropes of the mental ward, which include excitement-free Ping Pong games and dreams of an epic Pizza Party. While in the ward, the patients help Craig discover what a special individual he is. Activities revolved around arts, crafts, and music reveals that he has more hidden talents then he gives himself credit for. He also gains confidence through the affections of Noelle (Emma Roberts), another troubled teenager occupying the ward. They begin a fragile romance based on a kind of wounded sympathy. It’s though her sweetness, and the ward’s offbeat brand of encouragement, that Craig is able to take on his inner-demons.

Writer-Directors Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck (Half Nelson, Sugar) have etched out a name for themselves in the indie-world through raw character studies that showcase complex human types with unflinching honesty. Their work is celebrated for its avoidance of clichés and formulas as it allows the behavior of its subjects to reach their logical conclusions without resorting to melodrama. This time, adapting from a semi-autobiographical novel by Ned Vizzini, they appear to be reveling in formulaic territory to show off a hipster creativity their earlier films were immune to. We know from their earlier work that they are fully capable of making a vivid and authentic portrayal of an actual mental ward, yet they decide to play with some colorful exuberance here, just to show they can do it if they want to. While the scenes in the ward are fairly grounded, Boden and Fleck treat us to some zestful visuals packed with an appealing playfulness. We see an animated cityscape within Craig’s wild imagination as he draws out a map of his own city on paper and, in the film’s most fun sequence, we witness a dream sequence where the patients imagine themselves in a Glammed-Out performance of David Bowie & Queen’s “Under Pressure.” Of course, this material could still work in a down-to-earth, subtle manner, but these wild strokes help flesh out the hidden optimism waiting to burst out of the ward’s inherent dreariness.

Alongside the creative visual strokes, one of the best reasons to see the film is the revelatory performance by new-age goofball, Zach Galifianakis. The key to Galifianakis’ gifts thus far can only be described as a sublime subtlety. He’s one of the few performers who can generate a large response from doing next-to-nothing. To regard his oafish shell and laid-back demeanor point blank is surprisingly appealing. Here Galifianakis uses that gift to hint at the troubled depths of Bobby, a mysterious depressive too deep in his own turmoil to return to the wife and daughter that despair achingly over him. Bobby can be a level-headed voice of reason or a sealed bottle of rage, sometimes within the same moment. Indeed, he has a shocking display of hostility in the ward’s library in which he needs to be restrained by numerous staff members. Galifianakis’ employs his subtlety to convey all of Bobby’s complexities quite superbly. He tones down his goofy shenanigans to a certain degree but connects strongly with the tragic depths lurking just beneath Bobby’s surface. It’s an eye-opening performance, one that suggests Galifianakis could effortlessly handle meatier dramatic roles in the future.

It’s Kind of a Funny Story is essentially a teen angst picture set within the confines of a quirky mental ward. Through the vessel of Keir Gilchrist, who is like Jesse Eisenberg trapped within a young Keanu Reeves, we regard the everyday plights of the teenage emotional experience, which can seem like such devastating travesties as teenagers actually experience them. Craig goes through the usual motions of dealing with parental pressure, romantic yearning, and personal inadequacy before his journey makes him realize that he should learn to believe in himself and the joys of life. Boden and Fleck have both cited a John Hughes influence on this film and indeed employ Hughes’ device of dissecting the roots of a high schooler’s angst and ultimately suggesting that sunny optimism and being true to thy self is the best way to combat it. The film’s sly joke is that a mental ward is a cathartic place to take a break from being an American teenager, a joke that feels more true the more you think about it.

When all is said and done, It’s Kind of a Funny Story feels like more of a slight enterprise then it probably intends to be. Its insights are appreciated, but not highly original. The jokes are charming, if not uproariously hilarious. Plus I was kind of annoyed at the way the narrative condescends the formulaic ending while it embodies it. Yet I couldn’t help but admire the smile-inducing sunshine the filmmakers pulled from what could’ve been a troubling downer. A lot of sunniness packaged in the movies nowadays can come across as transparent and manipulative, so it’s nice to see a movie earn it through effective character development and simple emotional honesty. Like Zach Galifianakis himself, you can’t help but be charmed by the silliness. 　

A 'Social' Revelation

by Brett Parker

It’s been generally acknowledged that the Facebook era spawned a public escalation in social narcissism, self-importance, defamation, isolation, and pure nonsense. What makes The Social Network so fascinating is its argument that the very creation of Facebook was rooted in the same kinds of troubling traits. It all started with a brilliant college student messing around mischievously on his computer, but that soon spiraled into a trail of fierce ambition, questionable back-stabbing, and egotistical claims that all led to the modern Facebook network as we know it.

The film opens with a young Harvard student named Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg) being rejected at a bar by a woman named Erica (Rooney Mara). She has grown so tired of Mark’s ramblings about wanting to be part of the Harvard elite that she thinks he is too egotistical to stomach any further. Mark is so oblivious to Erica’s feelings that he feels the reason he was truly rejected is because he’s an unimportant nerd. This causes him to drunkenly write mean-spirited things about her on his blog from his dorm-room computer. During that same night of blogging, Mark’s anger grows tilted towards all of the women at Harvard and he decides to create a website in which you can rate the hotness of various girls on campus. By hacking into the numerous websites of campus housing, Zuckerberg obtains photos of almost all the campus females and creates his sexist website. The site becomes such an on-campus sensation that it gets over 20,000 hits in two hours, crashing the campus servers.

Zuckerberg’s site not only gets him a slap on the wrist from the disciplinary board, but the attention of the Winklevoss Twins (both played by Armie Hammer, thanks to marvelous CGI tricks). The WASP-Y brothers enlist Zuckerberg to help them with an idea they have for a campus website: they want to create an online social network in which students of Harvard can each have their own individual profile pages containing personal information and photos, allowing the other students to check them out. Zuckerberg considers their ideas and grows one himself: why not make a website in which students everywhere can check out each other’s pages. This site would not only deal with college information, but individual likes, dislikes, and relationship statuses. Thanks to the bankroll of his best friend, Eduardo Saverin (Andrew Garfield), Zuckerberg is able to fund and create the social website that would come to be known as Facebook.

Facebook rapidly becomes a giant hit across colleges everywhere and Zuckerberg can barely keep up with its increasing success. Seeking to expand and capitalize as greatly as he can, Zuckerberg and his cohorts end up in the clutches of Sean Parker (Justin Timberlake), the inventor of Napster. Sean is an out-of-work schemer who quickly seduces Zuckerberg with his charisma and convinces him to move his enterprise to Silicon Valley in California. Eduardo sees Sean as nothing but a leach but Zuckerberg decides to make the move to Silicon Valley as Facebook just keeps growing larger and larger. But big trouble brews for Zuckerberg as major law suits flesh out all around him. Eduardo is eventually forced out of the company by Parker’s conniving strategies and sues for co-ownership of Facebook. Meanwhile, the Winklevoss Twins feel there idea was completely stolen by Zuckerberg and they sue to prove that they were the true inventors of Facebook.

A movie centered around computer programming and lawsuits may not sound like the most exciting picture, but a good filmmaker knows how to make any story feel exciting on the big screen, something David Fincher demonstrates wonderfully here. His masterful camera tricks, along with the rapid-fire heat of Aaron Sorkin’s script, allows the mundane speak of computer talk sparkle with excitement. Like the case theories within Zodiac, Fincher knows how to make speeches of elaborate technical details more compelling than they probably deserve to be. Here Fincher is helped by Cinematographer Jeff Cronenweth (who knows how to make low-level campus lights feel unsettling), Editors Kirk Baxter and Angus Wall (who allow us to match up the film’s events with the deposition testimonies superbly), and Score Composers Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross (who elevate a techno-score away from being a gimmick and towards real art) to make this story a dazzling centerpiece that far exceeds a piece of straight-forward investigative journalism.

There has been much speculation regarding the authenticity of The Social Network’s claims. Fincher says it’s a work of fiction while Sorkin claims it’s rather factual. Zuckerberg has disowned the film while the Winklevoss’ claim its an excellent portrayal of what actually happened. It doesn’t really matter how authentic the film’s claims are, for the real triumph is how Fincher captures the undeniable heat and dizziness that went into the website’s creation and the logical motivations that must’ve been lurking beneath. Fincher is a filmmaker who specializes in the bizarre obsessions of peculiar men and the claustrophobic societies that clash with them, allowing Zuckerberg’s story to fit perfectly into Fincher’s aesthetic mold. We sense how Zuckerberg’s creation spilled out grandly into society the way Tyler Durden’s fight clubs did. Zuckerberg’s fierce need to be recognized as a genius is eerily not to far off from John Doe’s delusions of grandeur from Seven. Plus its obvious that Zuckerberg is bottling up wounded emotions the way Benjamin Button’s condition forced him to. The Social Network could’ve been a happy-cheery movie about an optimistic idealist trying to bring young people together, but Fincher wisely realizes that more unsettling masculine ideals generate this story.

Of course the crackling dialogue wouldn’t pop as well without the sensational performances from the film’s young cast. Andrew Garfield is wonderful in showing us a kid who’s sincerity and niceness quickly made him a victim in this cutthroat world. A teary-eyed moment during a lawsuit deposition in which Eduardo reminds Zuckerberg that he was his only friend truly does strike you in the heart. A real livewire performance comes from Justin Timberlake as Parker, who lights up the film like a pinball machine every time he walks on screen. It’s a layered, inspired performance as Parker is both cool but paranoid, smooth yet reckless. Timberlake shines as this devilish operator, owning the screen and having a ball.

The jewel centerpiece of the film lies in Jesse Eisenberg’s performance as the enigmatic Zuckerberg himself. Eisenberg has etched out a place for himself on the silver screen playing ultra-shy nerds coasting their way through social situations. Here he jazzes up his nerd persona to channel one with supreme arrogance and strict determination. Eisenberg has played nervous and repressed for so long that watching him dish out cold cynicism and intellectual cockiness is truly liberating to watch. A tongue-lashing he dishes out towards the Winklevoss Twins and their lawyer is wickedly delicious. Eisenberg can often wear his soul on his sleeve, but here he keeps Zuckerberg curiously sealed-off, with subtle hints of a nerd’s anger and Asperger’s syndrome. It’s through this performance in which Zuckerberg transcends being a historical figure to become a great enigmatic loner of the silver screen. It holds grand promises of major awards to come.

The small yet crucial performance of Erica, may just be the key to the entire film. In the beginning, Zuckerberg creates to spite her, while in the end, he quietly seeks her approval. Perhaps Zuckerberg really did want to change the way people connect with each other, yet Erica’s presence suggests that the creation of Facebook may be rooted in one nerd’s wounded determination to feel accepted, appreciated, relevant, loved. There is no anger or drive that runs deeper than an outcast who feels scorned or unnoticed by the real world. That ends up being the most haunting revelation within The Social Network: the cut-off isolation of a lonely nerd spawned the cut-off isolation of the Internet Age.

A Return to the 'Street'

by Brett Parker

Many consider the character of Gordon Gekko to be the original Shark of Wall Street and our fascination with him isn’t much different from those aquatic predators themselves. Both are creatures that dominate their domain with the utmost confidence and damn near sparkle in their shiny and sharp exteriors. Their chain of command is reassured with an aura of fear, for all the underlings know when pushed, this creature can become a relentless killing machine, destroying all those around him to remain dominant. Some predators can be undeniably sinister in their nature, but it is the fact that they can know no other demeanor that fascinates us. The same can be said of Gordon Gekko.

Of course it was Michael Douglas’s hypnotically calculating and smooth portrayal of Gekko that was the crown jewel of Oliver Stone’s Wall Street, a penetrating and hellfire-tinged expose of the corruption lurking within the cracks of the New York Stock Trading Game. Through the morally-ambiguous vessel of Charlie Sheen’s Bud Fox, we were given an entry point into Gekko’s glamorous and shady world of insider trading and bloodthirsty financial competition. While the film was meant to warn us of the cancerous greed and rotting morals that could flourish in our capitalist system, it’s a sad fact that too many moviegoers were taking by Gekko’s flashiness and confidence, swaying them to become financial pirates themselves. As a colleague of mine once quipped, “no film has done more social damage than Wall Street. Here was a satire of the business world, boasting ‘Greed is Good,’ and all these idiots took it seriously! Now look at the mess we’re in!”

Most of us are fully aware of the current financial mess we’re in, in which Greed proved, in fact, to not be good. The economy is at a devastating low with the real estate and job market at record lows. Because of our capitalist tastes for excess, countless businesses have gone under and millions of Americans are unemployed. There are people in some circles who feel the root of all our current economic problems can be traced back to Gordon Gekko’s popularized philosophies (it’s a dramatic theory, but an existing one nonetheless). With this in mind, Oliver Stone has decided to return to the stocks game in Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps, a sequel to show us just what Gekko would think of the current situation and how he would conduct himself against the anxiety-ridden brokers who now play the markets in desperate attempts at survival.

The film opens in 2001, with Gekko being released from prison after serving a sentence for insider trading and security fraud. Standing alone with no one to pick him up, Gekko leaves the prison armed with his old suit, giant cellular telephone, and a giant wad of notes, undoubtedly observations regarding the financial world that has grown troubling in Gekko’s wake. Seven years pass by and Gekko becomes the author of a best-selling book entitled Is Greed Good?, a financial expose that accurately predicts the problems that will cause our capitalist economy to collapse beyond prepare. If Gekko was the reptilian tycoon who started economical problems, he is now a wise old prophet here to prepare it.

Gekko’s rehabilitation back into the world continues with his crusade to make amends with his estranged daughter, Winnie (Carey Mulligan). Winnie blames her father with every negative thing that has befallen her family, most particularly her brother’s suicide, and wants nothing to do with him. Gordon thinks he has found a way in with her through Jake (Shia LeBeouf), her ambitious fiancé. Jake is a young stockbroker who hopes to do good in the world by assisting the growth of an Alternative Fuel Plant in California. Both Jake and Winnie are so virtuous and good-natured that they highlight the brewing viciousness around them, which there is plenty of. Jake’s boss and mentor, Louis Zabel (Frank Langella), was forced out of his own company and driven to suicide by the ruthless billionaire Bretton James (Josh Brolin) who has fashioned himself as the top dog of Wall Street. Jake sympathizes with Winnie’s pain, yet he can’t help but realize the financial genius Gordon possesses. Perhaps if Jake can help Gordon reconnect with his daughter, then Gordon can help Jake take revenge on Bretton amidst a collapsing market.

Money Never Sleeps adequately acknowledges the current issues plaguing Wall Street and finds shrewd ways to incorporate Gekko back into this world, yet we never feel the film reaches the hotbed boiling point it needs to. The current economic crisis has induced so much frustration, anxiety, depression, and unease into today’s country that the film’s great failing is that it does not strongly induce those same feelings into a film audience. Oliver Stone is known for a gonzo style of filmmaking that takes no prisoners and induces controversy at the drop of a hat. Yet here he keeps things too subdued, too formal. He curiously displays more hopeful idealism that cynical realism. He acknowledges the current mess and strives for an optimistic future when what we really want him to do is revel feverishly in the mess. If this film had the paranoia of JFK and the sloppy anger of Natural Born Killers, we would’ve really had a scorcher on our hands.

The brilliance of the original Wall Street was the way Robert Richardson’s cinematography dived right into the water with the Shark’s, giving off a devilish glee as we rubbed elbows with nasty predators. The camera had a head-first, bystander’s view into this world, so we got the experience of being at ground level with these new age pirates. The excessive and shadowy nature of this shiny new world came at us from all sorts of unseen angles and only occasionally stood back to take a breather from the amorality at hand. We were standing in the center of the Lion’s Den with no easy exit, and we were hypnotized by their predatory behavior the entire time.

The cinematography this time around, by the Oscar-nominated Rodrigo Prieto (Brokeback Mountain, Babel, Alexander), keeps things very tidy and formal. The camera has a classical formalism that exposes the crisp shininess of the New York Cityscape but puts a considerable damper on the ominous trouble lurking beneath the Markets. Stone is usually fearless in letting his camera pound relentlessly on the loathsome depths of human nature, but here he keeps things curiously simple, even resorting to old-school Hollywood techniques (perhaps he’s demonstrating that this tale of capitalist greed and falling-from-grace is a timeless one). On a surface level, Stone keeps things moving in a smooth, subtle manner, but let’s face it: we don’t go to an Oliver Stone movie for smoothness and subtlety.

Of course the best thing about the film is the return of Michael Douglas to the Oscar-Winning role that launched a thousand traders. When a famous actor becomes strongly associated with an iconic role, they have a tendency to walk through the performance on revisiting. Not Douglas, he’s just as focused as ever. He plays up his soothing voice and confident precision to show that Gekko is just as intelligent, detached, and calculating as he ever was. The screenplay teases us with the idea that Gekko may be seeking a genuine redemption, but then pulls the rug out from under us when Gekko commits an act that’s astonishingly conniving. It’s only then that we realize that asking Gekko to change his ways is like asking a Shark not to kill another creature ever again. Predators are incapable of changing their natures. It’s that essential fact that haunts this sequel. To stare into the abyss that is Gekko’s soul is to stare into the abyss that caused are financial problems in the first place.

Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps is a competent display of Hollywood formalism that spells out the mechanisms of our financial doom and gives us satisfying answers to questions we’ve wondered about Gordon Gekko over the years. It plays with our anxieties half the time, making us wish the film plugged deeper into the hellish fires of our financial nightmares. Much disappointment has been voiced about the film’s upbeat, sentimental ending, but I feel it’s extremely interesting that Oliver Stone, of all people, is showing us a little sentiment. While we always expect Stone to highlight the negative for us, I find it oddly compelling that he’s pointing us towards the positive for a change. He hopes that maybe in this crazy, mixed-up world, two people can learn to favor values such as love and family above financial warfare. And maybe, just maybe, a sinister schemer like Gordon Gekko could grow a heart after all.

Any 'Takers' For A Routine Heist Flick?

by Brett Parker

Takers is a routine heist flick that borrows so heavily from past films that you half-expect it to site its sources out loud, something that one character, in fact, ends up doing. The film strives for both the glamorous flashiness of Ocean’s Eleven and the gritty realism of Heat, yet these two sensibilities weigh down on each other and prevent the film from fleshing out a distinct significance all its own. It’s a heist flick as lightweight as can be, yet if your willing to meet its ladmag swagger and noir-tinged pretensions halfway, you might just be able to enjoy yourself.

The film begins by introducing us to a team of highly-skilled and super-stylish thieves who conduct their crimes in the Los Angeles area. There’s the mastermind Gordon (Idris Elba), point man John (Paul Walker), hardheaded Jake (Michael Ealy), athletic Jesse (Chris Brown), and stone-cold pro A.J. (Hayden Christensen). We first see them robbing a high-rise bank in the downtown L.A. area equipped with machine guns, ski-masks, and a helicopter escape. The job is pulled off with such skill that the no-nonsense detective Jack Welles (Matt Dillon) can’t find the smallest lead to bring the team down. With their hot cars, sexy women, and classy threads, these thieves appear to be living quite the outlaw lifestyle.

That is until the day Ghost (Tip “T.I.” Harris) drops back into their lives. Ghost was a member of the crew until he was shot and jailed during one of their heists. He did five years in jail without ratting out any of his crew members, something he feels deserves payback. His plan: assemble the crew to pull off a highly-dangerous armored car robbery right off the streets of L.A. The crew feels they don’t have the time, or the foresight, to pull off such a tricky heist, yet fearful of Ghost’s betrayal, they decide to go through with it anyways. As motives grow more ambiguous and moves escalate towards danger, Detective Welles works frantically to take down the crew before they pull off yet another extraordinary steal.

Takers shows little trace of originality or dimensions to elevate it from being a routine genre piece. The characters are one-dimensional stock personalities who don’t really have any memorable lines nor contribute any dramatic depths. It shows the players and moves of a crime plot, yet holds no revealing thoughts about the nature of crime itself. While the film tries to emulate the penetrating feel of a Michael Mann crime picture, it forgets that Mann always digs to find the poignancy and suppression within hunter-gatherer stories. Director John Luessenhop keeps things so by-the-numbers that searching for deeper meanings feels irrelevant. If it weren’t for the films pretentious style, perhaps the cast could’ve let loose with some of the ring-a-ding fun of the Ocean’s Eleven pictures. With their Rat Pack activities and dandified confidence, the Takers could’ve displayed the same sense of playfulness and exhilaration as Clooney’s boys if the film’s tone wasn’t so dominantly somber.

Yet deep down, I’m a huge sucker for a heist flick. It’s one of my favorite genres (with Ocean’s Eleven being one of my all-time favorite movies) and I can get so caught up in the hulking fronts, the elegant styles, the confident masculinity, the high-octane heists, and the over-the-top dangers that can be found in these films, especially if its done with a con artist’s smirk. Takers can’t live down the better crime films that have gone before it, but it seems perfectly content with the clichés it revels in. It puts up a front even though we suspect a lack of confidence underneath. The whole enterprise is disposable pulp, but if you can fine tune yourself to all the stylish testosterone and slam-bang trashiness that entails, you might just be able to have the silly good time I had.

Takers has such a shameless need to please that it doesn’t attempt to hide its lifts from earlier films such as Reservoir Dogs, Casino Royale, True Romance, and countless others. Even Ghost fully admits that the film’s climactic heist is a complete rip-off from The Italian Job remake. Yet if you’re willing to forgive the film for its cinematic thievery, a little fun can be had from a few of the action scenes. There’s a silly-cool scene in which the string-bean A.J. pounds mercilessly on gigantic brutes trying to beat him out of money, proving that camera angles and editing can make any skinny guy look tough. Chris Brown lacks a promising future in acting, yet his breathless foot chase through the Los Angeles area holds our attention rather efficiently. My favorite scene shows the Takers showing an amazing display of teamwork as they strategize their way through a frantically deadly hotel room shootout. It’s really the only scene in which gripping danger and the crew’s slickness truly shine.

The film was lucky enough to assemble a varying range of talented pros, yet the script gives them zero room to display any hints of character development. It’s great to see talented character actors Ealy and Elba get time to shine in a Hollywood vehicle, yet their characters have nothing significant to show off. Walker and Christensen have found a nice outlet to show off some cinematic coolness, but they fall victims to diminished screen time. Still, the guys show they can hold it down in a crime piece, displaying smoldering confidence and hulking shells quite nicely. The two meatiest performances come from Dillon, who treads heroically through an ocean of cop role clichés, and Harris, who miscalculates as the sinister Ghost. His character is meant to be a shadowy criminal mastermind, yet Harris’ street thug demeanor feels all wrong for the role. It diminishes the character potential for more authority, complexity, and ambiguity. A more thoughtful actor like Terrance Howard would’ve scored an absolute touchdown in this role.

If you don’t get out much to see many heist films, than Takers will probably work a lot better for you than it will for most. There are countless other films of this genre that are way better and Takers will have a tough time distinguishing itself from the rest. Yet if your in the mood for disposable heist thrills, which entails great suits, tough guy posturing, and outrageous action, Takers just might be able to fill your cinematic sweet tooth for a couple of hours.

'The Expendables': The Big Muscle Man Reunion

by Brett Parker

Action films of the 80s could most accurately be described as the “muscle man” era, an era in which testosterone, explosions, and the war-hungry mindset of the Reagan era spilled out across movie screens everywhere. Our heroes were grizzled hulks armed with gigantic biceps, guns, and attitudes. They annihilated countless weaklings who stood in there way, usually by pumping them full of countless lead or tearing their limbs clean apart. Bloodiness was guaranteed!. Subtlety and political correctness were nowhere to be found; these films reveled in ridiculous excess. There was, in fact, a competition amongst the era's action stars to see who could have the bigger guns and explosions in their individual films. It was brawny, it was gritty, it was masochistic, and it was so much fun!

No specific brand of action films lasts forever, for changing times brings forth changing heroes. In a post-9/11 world, a world that saw everyday people commiting truly heroic acts, a new brand of action heroes emerged filled with more vulnerability and humanity. From Spider-Man to Jason Bourne, our new crop of heroes possess everyman qualities in the face of extraordinary situations. Brains our now in higher demand than biceps; we want to relate more instead of envying. It says something that the two best action stars of this past summer were Robert Downey, JR. and Michael Cera.

Sylvester Stallone certainly feels nostalgic for the macho man bravado of yesteryear and senses a good amount of action junkies feel the exact same way. This led to the creation of his latest acting-directing feat, The Expendables, a throwback extravaganza if ever there was one. Stallone has assembled nearly every aging tough guy from the 80s into one big action vehicle, proving that these old school hulks still got what it takes to deliver big bangs for your buck! Of course, if your looking for relevance, reflection, and deep philosophies regarding the very nature of those muscle man movies, you've come to the wrong place! Stallone and his cohorts have precisely one goal in mind and one goal only: to blow up stuff real good!

The Expendables focuses on a rugged group of macho mercenaries who hire themselves out to do dirty work government agencies are afraid to touch. The team includes fearless leader Barney Ross (Stallone), blade enthusiast Lee Christmas (Jason Statham), kung-fu expert Ying Yang (Jet Li), bruising brawler Toll Road (Randy Couture), trigger-happy Hale Caesar (Terry Crews), and blood-thirsty giant Gunner Jensen (Dolph Lundren). The film opens with the guys lighting up a group of pirates who've kidnapped a cargo ship, slaying them with effortless expertise. Despite their old age, these pros appear are at the top of their game, until a real challenging mission comes their way at the hands of a mysterious contact named Mr. Church (Bruce Willis). Their assignment: infiltrate a South American island and take out a ruthless drug lord named Monroe (Eric Roberts).

Ross goes to scope the place out and runs into an intel expert named Sandra (Giselle Itie) who has grown up on the island and conveys how nightmarish her environment has become. Monroe used his vast wealth to buy out the island's army and he rules the place with an iron fist. He single-mindedly pursues his drug crops and profit and isn't afraid to destroy anyone or anything in his past. Monroe's rule over the island is quite deadly and Ross realizes that to go after him could very well be sudden death for him and his comrades. Yet after a lifetime of bloodshed, Ross begins to wonder if he can redeem himself by risking his life for those in need of liberation. The other Expendables begin to feel the same way and this leads to a deadly mission that will challenge the team to the extent of their abilities and just might rescue their souls.

It really is a miracle of scheduling that Stallone was able to assemble all the big marque names of yesterday into one kick-ass action movie! The only problem is that Stallone doesn't really give them anything deep or challenging to do. The Expendables was a great opportunity for Stallone & Company to dissect the finer points of the muscle man genre or expose the plights a tough guy experiences in growing older (something Stallone did superbly in Rocky Balboa). Instead, Stallone reduces their characters to one-dimensional types that run through the motions of a mindless shoot-em-up. Of course, no one can run through those motions like these guys, but surely these aging pros have more depths to reveal than the territory they've already mastered in the 80s.

So the plot is lightweight, the dialogue is horrible, and the characters show more attitude than personality. That's because Stallone's main focus is the ferocious action scenes, ones that demonstrate the shoot-em-and-slice-em velocity that was so prominent in the 80s. Stallone shows off a bloodthirsty glee as bones crunch, limbs fly, and bullets zing. The flimsy plot is all really just a transparent build-up to the film's violent final act, which is an all-out orgy of death and destruction. As our gritty heroes pound on countless bad guys mercilessly, we realize this is what we truly paid a ticket for and jump on on the ultra-violent band wagon. Technically, we can't help but admire the fact that the editing work by Ken Blackwell and Paul Harb frantically presents this ballet of blood as an assault on the senses while the musical score by Brian Tyler surprisingly gives off a classical feel.

Ironically, the only transcendent moments in the film are the ones revolved around no action at all. There's a killer moment where Mickey Rourke, as Ross' old friend and tattoo artist, speaks of searching for his soul after a lifetime of violence. It's the only revealing and convincing moment in the film thats out to prove that tough guys, do in fact, have feelings too. Of course the best scene in the film has become the most talked about one: the scene in which Stallone, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Bruce Willis share the screen for the first time in film history. Of course, these three were the biggest superstars of this genre and have always been something of fierce competitors, always trying to outdo each other in their movies. Well now they're finally together in a scene that not only sets up the plot for the film but shows off an electrifying peeing match where their egos bounce off each other quite nicely. It's probably the most logical way they could've shared the frame, with biting wit and a giddy subtext.

In the end, we're willing to forgive the film's flaws and emptiness because, essentially, it feels so good to see all the old guys again! They all, in fact, can still do it as good as they used to! Stallone proves that he can still dish out the attitude and the agility to lead his way through an action vehicle, Statham has shown no softening in his intimidation factor, Li still has all the right moves for an aging little guy, and Crews is cheerfully delightful as a man who loves to show off obnoxiously-outsized weaponry. My favorite performance comes from Lundren, who gives his dim-witted, hulking brute a psychotic edge that's surprisingly startling. It's been years since the big guy has shown up on the silver screen, yet his towering and tragic Frankenstein who dominates every scene that he's in!

Stallone has spoken out in recent years about how society can be neglectful towards it's elderly population. He feels there isn't really a forum for them to speak anymore despite the fact that they can be just as willing and able as all the younger citizens. The Expendables, like the last Rambo and Rocky Balboa demonstrates Stallone's single-minded goal of proving that the old guys can still get things done in a youth-obsessed society. It also may demonstrate the old school message that cultural and global problems can be solved by blowing away all our enemies, but we're willing to smirk and let that slide. After all, we're just staring at lightweight fun. The Expendables may not transcend it's genre, but at least it can stand with the mindless romps that ultimately led to the film's very creation. As long as you check your brain at the door, you can have yourself a bloody good time!

A Comedy For 'Schmucks'

by Brett Parker

Its one thing if a bumbling geek happens to be annoying. Its another if a geek goes out of his way to intentionally evoke great annoyance. This idea represents my main problem with Dinner for Schmucks, the Hollywood remake of the hit French comedy, The Dinner Game: we're asked to feel sympathy for a hapless loser who causes chaos for no clear reason besides his own twisted amusement. That Steve Carell is cast in the role of this idiotic hellraiser shows that the filmmakers want us to connect with the likeability within this nightmare nerd, but the evidence onscreen makes us curiously feel put-off. The rest of the movie has a cast that can do no wrong and a killer comic premise, but it settles too easily into mundane slapstick instead of realizing the fullest potential of its biggest jokes.

The film opens with a corporate man named Tim (Paul Rudd) seeking a promotion in his company. He dreams of swimming with the big sharks on the higher-floors in order to impress his loving fiance, Julie (Stephanie Szostak), and upkeep their lavish lifestyle. After an impressive presentation, Tim is allowed to rub elbows with the corporate big shots, led by the arrogant Lance Fender (Bruce Greenwood). Fender even invites Tim to an annual dinner hosted by the company cohorts. Yet this is no ordinary dinner: each company man has to bring a clueless idiot to the dinner as their guest for the sole purpose of making fun of them. Whichever man brings the biggest idiot to the party wins a first-prize trophy. If Tim really wants to secure his promotion, he'll have to go through with this mean-spirited meal.

Julie becomes appalled at the news of this dinner and Tim debates whether or not to go through with such a cruel activity, that is until he accidentally runs into Barry (Carell) with his car. Almost anyone can tell that Barry is a goofy loser, a socially awkward weirdo whose main hobby is stuffing dead mice and dressing them up in artistic displays (Barry has mice riding a Ferris Wheel, dining at restaurants, flying kites, etc.). Tim thinks running into Barry was an act of fate and that he'll be a lock to winning the biggest idiot prize at the dinner. Yet as Tim invites him to this deceptive event, Barry now feels he has a new friend and turns up unexpectedly in Tim's home life. Barry proves to be a tornado of mayhem and causes gigantic problems for Tim over the course of one crazy night. He drives away Julie, he brings an insane former fling (Lucy Punch) back into Tim's life, he has him breaking into the apartment of a zany model (Jemaine Clement), and he causes him to be audited by an IRS weirdo who believes he can control minds (Zach Galifianakis). Can Tim survive long enough to make it to the dinner with Barry?

Steve Carell has crafted a career out of oblivious weirdos who remain likeable in spite of their acts of stupidity. His goofballs can't help their own oafishness and accidentally cause headaches for everyone around them. This time, however, Barry appears to be wreaking havoc on purpose, using his idiocy as a shallow excuse. Take, for example, a scene where Barry notices an Instant Message on Tim's computer from a scary former fling. In the moment, Barry decides to respond, pretends to be Tim, and invites this crazy woman over even though he's fully aware that Tim has a serious girlfriend that he lives with. Why do such a thing? Why intentionally cause hell for someone you're trying to become friends with? We're supposed to believe that Barry is so dumb that he's oblivious to the chaos he's causing, but you'd have to be way more incredibly dumber than Barry to not realize that you're brewing up a bad situation. He's clearly doing this to watch Tim suffer for his own twisted amusement.

Its this mini-mean streak from within Barry that is barely acknowledged by the film and is written off as hopeless dorkiness. It's hard to buy and it's even harder to buy later on when Barry turns on the self-pity routine and we're supposed to connect with him once he turns to marshmallow. It's at this point in the script where Tim is ordered to stop being mad at him and start warming up to his vulnerable side. Yet Tim really should be infuriated by this man's behavior, he really is annoying, for him and for us.

Can a movie character be chaotic and unrelenting yet still be likeable in our eyes? I point you to the supreme example of Katherine Hepburn in Bringing Up Baby, the finest screwball comedy ever made. As Susan, the lunatic heiress hopelessly in love with Cary Grant's Dr. David Huxley, Hepburn shows us a nutty madwoman showing no mercy in trying to stay close to her dream man, whether it be stealing his car, hiding his clothes, getting him arrested, and putting him in the path of an unpredictable leopard. Susan is unmistakably relentless, but thanks to Hepburn she also has a sweetness and romantic yearning that's hard to dismiss. She may cause serious mayhem for David, but it's all out of a lovestruck devotion built on genuine affection. The film's most touching moment comes when Susan, after being scolded by David, pours her wounded heart out to him, declaring her maddened love for him. She wins us over and she eventually wins over David too, for all that chaos was just what he needed to stir up his humdrum existence. It'd be nice to think that Barry also has a desperate need to be liked, but surely he could've thought up more sincere ways than destroying Tim's apartment and relationships on purpose.

The rest of the film has the usual slapstick hijinks you'd expect in such a sitcom, although most of the gags seem watered down and never break loose towards anything truly hysterical. Part of the problem is that the plot drifts away from the central business at hand and towards the tornado of Barry's comic destruction. The plot would've benefited more hilariously if it deeply dissected it's main ideas more prominently. To what level of shame does Tim truly feel as he carries out his amoral agenda? What exactly is Barry's point of view on his own behavior? What could these two really get out of their relationship together, considering the deceptive motives behind it? How do they both really feel about the actual dinner? The film tries to force contrived answers to such questions without earning them through character development.

Considering the talent on-board, especially Director Jay Roach's comic experience (the Austin Powers series, Meet the Parents), there are some moments of interest to be found. Although the script miscalculates with the characterization of Barry, Carell holds a bug-eyed devotion to his character's zaniness that is a true testament to his comic gifts. Even though Tim's motives aren't exactly likeable, Paul Rudd allows us to empathize nicely with his journey of frustration and redemption. My favorite performance comes from Galifianakis as the IRS Mind Reader. I can't remember the last time a screen comic could be so utterly hilarious while doing little to nothing. The small, wheezy laugh he lets out while reading a tax record is the single funniest moment in the entire film. It must also be said that the film's climactic dinner scene, in which a room full of idiots are allowed to cut loose, does produce genuine laughs through delightful characters. We meet several strange cases such as a man who communicates with birds, an animal psychic, and a blind fencing champion (yes, you heard me). I was touched by how much these fools cherish their own quirky antics, revealing the corporate sharks behind this dinner to be the true sleaze that they are. It leads up to a wonderful moment where Barry seems generally confused as to why such fascinating people were invited to a party as “idiots.”

Dinner for Schmucks falls short because it holds a biting premise that grows too soft and a softy character with too much bite. The plot could've let loose with a dose of nastiness while the sweet and likeable Barry helped to deflect it. Curiously, the opposite appears to happen. It seems like comic gold to have Carell's sincerity bounce off of Rudd's frustration, but this outing proves to be a waste of a pairing and idea.

A Geeky Yet Charming 'Apprentice'

by Brett Parker

Growing up in my youth, my favorite kind of fantasy films were the ones where extraordinary things happened to ordinary kids just like me. It was great fun watching ordinary young people, who had crushes on girls, massive amount of homework, and big dreams, being whisked away to breathless adventures in which they faced perilous danger, nail-biting chases, and otherworldly sights. Titles like The Goonies and Flight of the Navigator spring to mind. I was thrilled by the idea that normal dudes like me could quite possibly be plucked from suburban normalcy and thrown into the kind of fantastical adventure that could only happen in the movies. Of course, it was always reassuring to know that no matter what threats or dangers the young hero faced, he would always end up safely back at home with a big smile and an even bigger sense of confidence.

As we arrive at mid-summer in the blockbuster movie season, it's easy to label The Sorcerer's Apprentice, the new fantasy ride from Jerry Bruckheimer and the National Treasure team, as a disposable, CGI-heavy moneymaker, which it more or less is. However, I found the film had a nostalgic charm reminiscent of the very fantasy films I just described from my younger years. As the film centers on the nerdy everyman charms of the shy string-bean Jay Baruchel, I was reminded of the protagonists of the live action Disney movies I enjoyed back in the day. Here's a soulless popcorn movie revolved around a dude who wears his soul right on his sleeve. His geeky charm becomes the movie's saving grace.

The film opens with a prologue in the King Arthur days centered around the legendary wizard Merlin (James A. Stephens), with his apprentices battling over his mystical powers. The evil Horvath (Alfred Molina) wants to be the most powerful wizard, leading him to team up with an evil sorceress named Morgana (Alice Krige). The virtuous apprentice Balthazar (Nicolas Cage) vows to put a stop to the evil duo and does so by encasing them in an ancient doll that will serve as their prison. As he carries out this plan, however, his lady love Veronica (Monica Bellucci) becomes trapped in the doll along with the villains and Merlin becomes fatally wounded in the process. Before he dies, the powerful wizard tells Balthazar that a successor containing Merlin's powers shall materialize one day and must learn his sorcerer ways in order to protect the universe. Merlin had cast a spell on all of his apprentices to stay young forever, allowing Balthazar to carry out his search for the next great sorcerer over the next few centuries.

Time passes and Balthazar has searched over many continents for the one who fits the profile of Merlin's successor. His search ends in New York City when he meets Dave (Baruchel), a painfully shy college student who is an expert in physics and social awkwardness. Dave lacks tact and self-confidence but nonetheless shows every tell-tale sign of being the next great sorcerer. In Dave's private studying quarters, Balthazar decides to teach Dave everything he knows so that he can get in touch with his inner-Merlin. Dave will have to learn quickly, for pretty soon Horvath is unleashed from his ancient prison and plans to destroy life on this planet as we know it. Can Dave overcome his personal defects and find his inner-sorcerer? Does this science nerd have what it takes to defeat one of the most powerful sorcerers in history?

The idea of modern-day sorcerers could make for a very plucky movie, but The Sorcerer's Apprentice only allows the simple thrills you would expect from a PG-rated-live-action-Disney summer-blockbuster ride. That means everything is reduced to candy-coated CGI effects that would only be of great excitement to kids under 10. The idea of evil dragons and giant eagles flying around could be exciting but have a mundane feel to it this time. Even the film's climactic save-the-world battle is reduced to a hand-grown laser beam fight that hasn't been original since Superman II. One effects sequence I really enjoyed was a trip through Mirror World, where everything is reversed as it would be in a mirror (in this case: all of Times Square). For those who haven't figured it out yet, this film is inspired by the Mickey Mouse sequence in Fantasia and there's a fun little scene here that pays homage to it. Like Mickey, Dave tries to magically make mops and brooms clean up his room without any human hands touching them. The music may be a bit different but the hilarity of the results are about the same.

Nicolas Cage, of course, has developed into one of the most eccentric actors we've ever known. In the past, he's gone so far over the top that he's sailed past the Milky Way while eating a banana. I think only Cage could make a whacked-out ancient sorcerer from Manhattan feel lived in. Here's a guy who's never had to strain to look cooky, and that serves this role perfectly. But this being Disney and all, he's not allowed to let his freak flag fly as wildly as you wished he could. Don't want to scare the kiddies. Could you imagine if Cage was as whacked out here as he was in Bad Lieutenant? Children would be running for the Exit while the grown-ups laughed hysterically! But hey, I'm sure it serves the role well that Cage could let loose bizarre insanity but holds back to keep a straight face. That's probably true of most sorcerers.

I never would've thought that Dustin Hoffman's performance in The Graduate would plant the seed for our current crop of Hollywood leading men, but let's face it, we are living in the shy-guy era! Geeky actors like Michael Cera and Jesse Eisenberg are flinging their inadequacies and awkwardness in every direction and audiences are eating it up. Leading men used to get all the girls, now they have no idea how to even talk to girls. I suppose John Cusack helped spawn this trend with his everyman earnestness, but at least he had, you know, game! Anyways, of this current crop of dweebs, I would have to pick Jay Baruchel as my champion. He's certainly the funniest-looking and appears to have the most depth of comic charm. The important thing is that he conveys a genuine nice-guy quality; you want to root for him. It says something that for all the film's magic and effects, the most interesting scenes are the ones where he tries to court his biggest crush Becky (Teresa Palmer, conveying equal measures of beauty and sweetness), an adorable blonde who is eventually won over by the big goof. As are we.

Even though we're on the level of a PG-rated pop ride, at least everyone involved holds steady rank. Director Jon Turtletaub (Cool Runnings, National Treasure) knows he's just having some Hollywood fun and keeps things on a poppy, inoffensive level of formalism. Producer Jerry Bruckheimer demonstrates his usual relentless need to please the audience, from it's reliable New York City location to the hipster-rock soundtrack. Alfred Molina attacks his cartoonish role like a true, dignified professional while Toby Kebbell brings the same sense of zany silliness he possessed in Rocknrolla to the role of Horvath's magician sidekick, Drake Stone. Plus it's always nice to see Monica Bellucci in focus, so there's something!

So The Sorcerer's Apprentice may be a disposable family-friendly flick, but you know what? So we're many of those fun fantasy flicks I saw as a kid. I ate them up with an intense joy and I suspect young kids just might do the same with this one. It's hero acts like a kid again, which in turn made me feel like a kid again, and its not every movie that can do that well, so I'll give this one the pass! It may get tiring watching flying creatures and magical powers over time, but it may never get old watching the nice guy win the cute blonde.

'Inception': Mind-Blowing Head Trip

by Brett Parker

Christopher Nolan is a filmmaker who likes to create cinematic games that deeply challenge the psyche of the characters who play them. Whether it's a man battling short-term memory-loss or a cop suffering from insomnia, Nolan's characters obsessively trudge through his mazes while complexities of the human mind fester underneath. His latest film, Inception, has to be the most elaborate and creative play on this cinematic ideal. As Nolan paints characters who can literally walk through dreams buried within the subconscious, he unleashes his most brilliant and literal exploration yet of the dark recesses of the human brain.

Inception imagines a world in which technology exists to enter people's minds through the dream state. If a person is heavily sedated, then a suitcase-sized device can allow outsiders to invade the subjects' dream and create an environment in which their deep secrets can be discovered. An extractor named Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio) abuses this technology by stealing people's ideas and selling them to big businesses. Cobb can work his way around the unstable environments of lucid dreams better than almost anyone and, along with his expert aide Arthur (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), can find almost any secret buried within the subconscious. However, Cobb's experiments within the dreamworld created big problems that has made him a fugitive in his home of America and estranged from his two children.

One day, Cobb encounters a wealthy corporate man named Saito (Ken Watanabe) who promises to help repair his past. Saito assures Cobb he can make his charges in America disappear if he performs an act of Inception; instead of stealing an idea from a subject's mind, an idea is to be planted there. The mark is Robert Fischer (Cillian Murphy), the wealthy heir to a corporate empire. Saito wants Cobb and his associates to plant an idea in Fischer's head that will dismantle his worldwide empire. However, Inception is a highly risky and dangerous procedure, for it involves delving deeper into levels of the subconscious than most players can handle. With the help of a forger thief (Tom Hardy) and a brilliant architect (Ellen Page), Cobb and his team plunge deep within the world of Fisher's head, a world that involves lethal shoot-outs, zero-gravity, a snowy fortress, and the ghost of Cobb's deceased wife, Mal (Marion Cotillard), stirring up deadly trouble. Can Cobb and his associates plant an inception before being trapped in a deep subconscious limbo?

What is first and foremost impressive about Inception is how wholly original this world appears to be. Even though specific shades of other films can be hinted at (particularly The Matrix), we truly do feel like we are looking at a cinematic landscape we've never seen before. Nolan has brought to the unstable and abstract nature of the dreamworld a strict logic that uses everything we've even researched or realized about human dreams to create a specific universe filled with detailed and fascinating rules. Even though this film plays on formalities of a heist film and certain action-thriller standards, it'd be such a gross disservice to confine this film to broad genre outlines. Here's a film that doesn't depend on “killing the bad guy” or “disarming the bomb” but instead focuses on penetrating multiple levels of the subconscious and synchronizing your actions so that you can simultaneously awaken throughout all layers and return to complete consciousness. Sound confusing? Well Nolan maps out the logic of the plot with great attentiveness. Sure, you have to pay close attention to every minute detail, but so fascinating is the world Nolan has painted, you'll be absorbed by every exciting aspect thrown your way.

Since pretty much anything can happen within a dream, almost anything can happen within the world of Inception, liberating it from mundane predictability. As these brainy thieves run amok through other people's dreams, we're treated to such wild visuals as a train pummeling through a city street, a Parisian street folding upside down on itself, a hotel hallway tilting sideways, sleeping bodies floating in zero gravity, and a decaying city crumbling at the edge of an ocean. These visuals complement the elaborate logic of the plot wonderfully, and since these strokes of creativity can come from any angle, the film constantly keeps us on our toes and glued to the screen from start to finish.

Leonardo DiCaprio plays up his finely-tuned confidence and intensity to fit the mold of a Nolan protagonist quite nicely. Like all of Nolan's flawed heroes, Cobb is a man obsessive in his quest, consumed by guilt, haunted by heartbreak. Nolan's men are usually haunted by a past love, one that puts a heavy strain on both their hearts and their already clouded minds. The ghost of Mal constantly taunts and haunts Cobb in his dreamworld as he battles constantly with the blurred lines between dreams and reality. The men in Nolan's world hope that their rigorous journey to make sense of things will bring them some kind of closure, but the brilliance of this filmmaker is the idea that the end result is always shrouded in some kind of ambiguity. There's no easy way out from heart ache and the darkness that haunts the mind (The film's final shot puts a serious skewer on any idea of a complete happy ending for Cobb).

Indeed, each film of Nolan's deals with a specific aspect of the mind that can plague most men. He's dealt with revenge (Memento), guilt (Insomnia), fear (Batman Begins), jealous egotism (The Prestige), madness (The Dark Knight), and now with Inception, he has covered the idea of perception. Cobb is a man so caught up in the dreamworld that he himself has confused it for his actual reality. What constitutes reality? If something feels deeply tangible to us, is that enough to justify it as reality? What if there is a deeper level of truth we haven't perceived yet? The main conflict within the Mal character is the idea that maybe everything is a projection from our minds and there is underlying levels of revelations we have yet to perceive. If our idea of reality is built within our minds, then whats to say that dreams aren't as tangible as our reality?

These questions probably only scratch the surface of Inception's underlying ideals. The beauty of the film is that endless analysis can be sprung from within the subtext. Dream logic, in itself, has inspired many broad theories and specific ideas over the years. Since Inception is so intuitive to a wide range dream research, countless theories and ideas can be pulled from this film for years to come. You'll be deeply rewarded on repeat viewings and will probably find new things that will redefine the film for you each time you watch it. Since the film takes place mostly within dreams, you can never be too sure that everything is what it seems or that it even takes place in reality at all (a climactic conversation between Cobb and Mal as well as a shot of an old couple walking through a dream city threw me for a loop and will certainly need revisiting).

Since the very nature of dreams can be surreal and trippy, part of me wonders if Inception could've been more surreal and trippy. Should this material have gone way more off-the-rails? Shouldn't it have dealt with the erotic and the nightmarish aspects of dreams more? Could abstract directors such as David Lynch or Richard Kelly go further down the rabbit hole than Nolan does? Perhaps, but it's important to realize that Nolan is not out to confuse, but to challenge and entertain; two things that can be rarely seen in the same package. The great achievement of Inception is the way it presents a supreme challenge to our intellect while still delivering an adventurous and exciting thrill ride. The film could be a turning point in proving that audiences can handle complex and ambiguous philosophical thoughts within the context of a Hollywood action-thriller. Here's a rare action-adventure where the ideas are way more exciting than the action.

The 'Airbender' Needs Acting Lessons

by Brett Parker

The usual arc for most filmmakers shows that their films improve as their work increases. Unfortunately for M. Night Shyamalan, his quality of work seems to be digressing considerably. After the enourmous success of the horror hit The Sixth Sense, he unveiled Unbreakable, Signs, and The Village, three supernatural dramas I found to be powerhouse wonders. Shakiness began brewing for Shyamalan when he brought us Lady in the Water, a fairy tale of of creativity and ambition, yet one that crumbled under its own incoherency and absurdity. Shyamalan tried to return to form with The Happening, but it instead showcased Shyamalan losing his grip when it comes to acting and dialogue.

Now the Hollywood helmer is attempting to reclaim his glory in a genre he has never dealt with before: the fantasy epic. The Last Airbender is his adaptation of the popular Nickelodeon cartoon series in which mythical people can control the four elements. From observing the cartoon's premise, we see how it can serve Shyamalan's themes of ordinary people dealing with the extraordinary and the acknowledgment of a spiritual universe and the forces it provides. What could have been a wonderful display of growth for Shyamalan has turned into something of a mess; an example of how he would probably be better off staying far, far, away from this genre for the rest of his career. It could've elevated his gift for fusing the emotional with the supernatural, but the acting, the dialogue, and the essential plot give us nothing to sink our hooks into.

The film takes place sometime in the future, where the modern world as we know it has crumbled and the Earth has been redivided among nations that represent the four elements: earth, wind, fire, and water. There are certain numbers of humans who have the special ability to manipulate these elements to their will; these people are called “benders” and hold the most power on the planet. It is said that a being known as the Avatar can bring ultimate harmony between the nations, for it is the only one who could master all of the elements at once. However, the Avatar has been missing for quite sometime and this has allowed the fearsome Fire Nation to rise up and try to conquer the world, Evil Empire style.

We meet two sibling waterbenders named Katara (Nicola Peltz) and Sokka (Jackson Rathbone) who one day find a mysterious boy named Aang (Noah Ringer) unconscious below a layer of ice. It turns out that Aang is the last of the airbenders who has been mysteriously frozen in time while his own people vanished at the hands of the Fire Nation. It is believed that Aang was meant to be the Avatar before his emotions got the best of him and he ran away. Katara and Sokka make him realize that he must learn and obtain the powers of the Avatar of the world as they all know it shall be destroyed. As Aang and his new friends go off in search of his mythic destiny, a vengeful firebender named Prince Zuko (Dev Patel) furiously pursues him for his own selfish needs.

I sure hope I got everything I just wrote correct! The Last Airbender doesn't exactly feel like the most comprehensive epic I've ever seen. Of course the first rule to presenting any fantasy universe is to make that specific world as entertainingly comprehensive as possible. Sometimes fantasy worlds can get way too caught up in their own mythical logic, alienating innocent moviegoers. What makes fantasy series like Star Wars and Lord of the Rings so popular and enduring is the fact that they focus on the human elements first and allow the elaborate plots to take care of themselves. They prove that a film can be stuffed with elves, goblins, ewoks, wookies, and hobbits, yet still hold a human dimension of emotions with universal appeal. Lord of the Rings, especially, may have had fantastical visuals and enormous adventure, but it was the fact that almost all of the mythical characters held the same fears and vulnerabilities as us humans that truly made it a special work.

The Last Airbender shows traces of humanity but they seem impossible to engage mainly because the main child stars, our essential guides through this world, give really bad performances. I'm talking really bad! This has to be among the worst collective child star work I've ever seen in a Hollywood film. Part of the problem is that the dialogue is meant to be presented in an ancient world dialect yet the kids use their modern world voices, making every piece of dialogue sound like a train wreck. These kids show all the mastery of a sixth-grader in their very fist school play. Perhaps in a more contemporary, simplistic film, these kids could be engaging, but they come across as jaw-droppingly horrid here. Perhaps the fault for these performances could be placed on Shyamalan. Spike Lee once alluded that directors are directly responsible for any bad performances in their films. Shyamalan certainly doesn't provide any colorful dialogue or human dimensions for his characters. The most developed and most interesting performance comes from Patel as the sinister Fire Prince, but even he seems like too much of an everyman to master an operatic villian.

Shyamalan's greatest strength as a filmmaker has been to sneak supernatural elements into the everyday world of realistic characters. Here he tries to sneak realistic emotions into a supernatural environment and fails miserably. He usually presents things from a human standpoint, allowing the supernatural elements to absorb us as they would in reality. There isn't a trace of that skill here and the film suffers considerably. Shyamalan seems too caught up in this preposterous plot and its shallow genre elements to engage us with his trademark technical mastery. The alluring moods he is known for conveying feel curiously absent this time out and had they been present, we might actually care about this world. Traces of Shyamalan's earlier work can be sensed in the plot: an everyman's journey towards becoming a superman reminds us of Unbreakable while the characters unease and philosophizing about destiny and faith has the feeling of Signs. Yet those earlier films had an intimate attention to character detail and tension-building pacing that is completely non-existent here. Perhaps Shyamalan bit off more than he could chew when took on this commercial vehicle.

If there's one element of the film that does hold dazzling creative juice, it's the action scenes. As the benders shape their elements to attack their enemies in a mystical kung-fu style, the action scenes take on a kind of new-age-martial-arts-for-the-CGI-era that does, in fact, work on the big screen. Shyamalan films these elaborate effects sequences in wide-angle long-takes that allows us to actually take in the action instead of chopping it up into a frantic quick-cutting style. As these child warriors bounce around their enemies throwing glowing orbs of their forceful elements, we actually find some excitement within this fantasy muck. We realize that if Shyamalan held a more wicked sense of humor, then The Last Airbender could've been one hell of a cheesy B-Movie kung-fu flick. Kung-fu movies were founded on preposterous plotlines that served as an excuse to serve elaborate fight scenes shrouded in mythic energy. Perhaps if Shyamalan devoted more energy and screen time to the fight scenes instead of the ridiculous plotting, then we might have had some giddy popcorn fun!

Shyamalan is a director who can make the fantastical feel plausible and the ridiculous seem gripping, so it's somewhat surprising that he can't pull off that hat trick with The Last Airbender. I wouldn't so much call it his worst film yet as much as the one most devoid of his acquired cinematic gifts. I'm afraid only real young fans of the cartoon series will find any interest in the adaptation. It's almost like an M. Night Shyamalan movie for people who don't like M. Night Shyamalan movies at all. And even those people would still probably reject this movie.