A special thanks to everyone still fighting for our rights in Madison--whether it be getting the word out on facebook, protesting at the capitol or signing petitions. You're all incredible, and I wish I could be there to stand alongside you. Maybe after I get my car fixed. Until then, I will continue to order you pizza from afar.
Onto the countdown.
#20 Youth in Revolt
I got used to sweet, innocent Michael Cera speaking a little blue in Superbad, essentially playing George-Michael from Arrested Development, but with the newfound ability to use curse words. Like I mentioned in my review of Scott Pilgrim, Michael Cera is a bit typecast as far as his geekdom is concerned. Thus, when Cera began to blow vehicles up and have sex in this film, it was a refreshing surprise.
Onto the countdown.
#20 Youth in Revolt
I got used to sweet, innocent Michael Cera speaking a little blue in Superbad, essentially playing George-Michael from Arrested Development, but with the newfound ability to use curse words. Like I mentioned in my review of Scott Pilgrim, Michael Cera is a bit typecast as far as his geekdom is concerned. Thus, when Cera began to blow vehicles up and have sex in this film, it was a refreshing surprise.
He plays Nick Twisp, a loser who lives with his loser mom (journeywoman Jean Smart), her loser lover (Zach Galifinakis) and their loser plans. When they go on a trip to “the cabin” (a trailer), he meets the girl of his dreams, a blonde named Sheeni Saunders (Mr. Sunshine’s Portia Doubleday). They become inseparable and adopt a dog, both of which are much to the chagrin of Sheeni’s bible-thumping family. When Nick and the family head back to the city, he hatches a plan along with his new swearing, cursing, mustachioed alter-ego to get back to Sheeni. Soon the two Ceras commit a string of misdemeanors and he gets sent to live with his father (Steve Buscemi), conveniently down the road from the Saunders residence. But with her parents throwing the holy book at her and threatening to send her to boarding school, can he find a way to prove himself?
You’ll have to watch and see. Director Miguel Artega is a master of the quirky; with Chuck & Buck and The Good Girl in the rearview and now Cedar Rapids quickly picking up steam, he’s one to watch for in the future. The dialogue—especially between Cera and Doubleday—is awesome and mock-chivalrous, and the film always keeps you entertained. Michael Cera, you dog you—didn’t think you had it in ya!
#19 Buried
I kind of wonder how Ryan Reynold's agent pitched this one to him: "Okay, so apparently you're going to be acting by yourself the entire time, and you'll be spending the entirety of the film in a coffin. Sound good?"
Whatever possessed Reynolds to agree to the film, I'm very glad he did because he does an outstanding job. The difference between this and 127 Hours is that Reynolds is entirely alone, which in a way is even more impressive (though Franco absolutely killed it).
Buried is modern-day Hitchcock from the very get-go, with the opening credits all but ripping off Vertigo with its fanfare-d score and twisting graphics; However, I really enjoyed the opening credits, no matter how much homage was paid to the Master. The first two minutes of the film are spent in total darkness--the viewer just hears labored and sporadic breathing and small cries of "help". Until a zippo lighter flickers on and we're face to face with Paul Conroy, a contracted trucker who, at the last he can remember, was driving cargo around Iraq. And now, he's by himself in a small wooden coffin.
The 90 minutes we spend with Paul Conroy are incredibly tense. Armed with a lighter and a video-cell phone left by his captors, he must try his best to recall everything that happened to him as he tries to figure out who put him down there--and why. He calls America, trying to find his wife. He calls his company, trying to get them to assist. He calls his government, praying they'll do something, anything. And he receives calls too, from who would be the person who put him there. And oh yeah, he's running out of air and dealing with sand seeping through in tiny intervals.
If you're a very claustrophobic person or you are deathly afraid of snakes (two of my very best friends in the world are) then this may not be the movie for you. But if you want to see Reynolds in perhaps a career-defining performance, or you want to see a one of the most innovative films of the year in which there is one character on screen the whole time and flabbergasting twists and turns leading up to the final moments, then rent this one. I thought it just ruled.
#18 True Grit#19 Buried
I kind of wonder how Ryan Reynold's agent pitched this one to him: "Okay, so apparently you're going to be acting by yourself the entire time, and you'll be spending the entirety of the film in a coffin. Sound good?"
Whatever possessed Reynolds to agree to the film, I'm very glad he did because he does an outstanding job. The difference between this and 127 Hours is that Reynolds is entirely alone, which in a way is even more impressive (though Franco absolutely killed it).
Buried is modern-day Hitchcock from the very get-go, with the opening credits all but ripping off Vertigo with its fanfare-d score and twisting graphics; However, I really enjoyed the opening credits, no matter how much homage was paid to the Master. The first two minutes of the film are spent in total darkness--the viewer just hears labored and sporadic breathing and small cries of "help". Until a zippo lighter flickers on and we're face to face with Paul Conroy, a contracted trucker who, at the last he can remember, was driving cargo around Iraq. And now, he's by himself in a small wooden coffin.
The 90 minutes we spend with Paul Conroy are incredibly tense. Armed with a lighter and a video-cell phone left by his captors, he must try his best to recall everything that happened to him as he tries to figure out who put him down there--and why. He calls America, trying to find his wife. He calls his company, trying to get them to assist. He calls his government, praying they'll do something, anything. And he receives calls too, from who would be the person who put him there. And oh yeah, he's running out of air and dealing with sand seeping through in tiny intervals.
If you're a very claustrophobic person or you are deathly afraid of snakes (two of my very best friends in the world are) then this may not be the movie for you. But if you want to see Reynolds in perhaps a career-defining performance, or you want to see a one of the most innovative films of the year in which there is one character on screen the whole time and flabbergasting twists and turns leading up to the final moments, then rent this one. I thought it just ruled.
I’ve been telling people lately how I wish I hadn’t been a punk teenager when my grandfather John passed away. I was in early high school, part of that inevitable stage in life where you feel way too important to spend time with your family. I was halfway through sophomore year when he died. I did of course miss him dearly, and still do, but I also feel like I would have a lot more in common with him these days. I drink bourbon on the rocks, just like he used to. I could talk to him about the old Milwaukee Braves teams that he grew up with. And I could sit down and watch a John Wayne western with him, because all that stuff interests me now.
I really can’t say what Grandpa John would have thought about the Coen brothers re-make.
I know that as a fan of westerns, he probably would have had a favorable reaction. Paired once again with their longtime cinematographer Roger Deakins, the Coens turn the stark landscapes into a character.
Newcomer Hailie Steinfeld (impressive, by the way) is looking to hunt down the man who shot her father down. She enlists the help of washed-up ranger Rooster Cogburn. Having not seen the original, I'm not sure how John Wayne plays it, but Bridges' Cogburn is a drunken cartoon character, a past-his-prime Yosemite Sam. This is oft pointed out by Matt Damon's character, who wears a mustache and spurs better than one might expect. The Bridges act is entertaining, but sometimes you're left feeling a little empty in the dramatic portions because he is hard to take seriously.
The movie looks awesome and is wholly entertaining. The shootouts are done well and the class is there. But when they finally find the hooligan, it doesn't feel the least bit climactic, nor really does the resolution. The Coen brothers, because of their deservedly elite status, will always have impossibly high expectations to live up to. That said, I enjoyed True Grit. It was good, just more middle of the pack Coens than, say, No Country or Miller's Crossing. Very much worth seeing-you know the Co Bros will always feel right at home in the West.
I know that as a fan of westerns, he probably would have had a favorable reaction. Paired once again with their longtime cinematographer Roger Deakins, the Coens turn the stark landscapes into a character.
Newcomer Hailie Steinfeld (impressive, by the way) is looking to hunt down the man who shot her father down. She enlists the help of washed-up ranger Rooster Cogburn. Having not seen the original, I'm not sure how John Wayne plays it, but Bridges' Cogburn is a drunken cartoon character, a past-his-prime Yosemite Sam. This is oft pointed out by Matt Damon's character, who wears a mustache and spurs better than one might expect. The Bridges act is entertaining, but sometimes you're left feeling a little empty in the dramatic portions because he is hard to take seriously.
The movie looks awesome and is wholly entertaining. The shootouts are done well and the class is there. But when they finally find the hooligan, it doesn't feel the least bit climactic, nor really does the resolution. The Coen brothers, because of their deservedly elite status, will always have impossibly high expectations to live up to. That said, I enjoyed True Grit. It was good, just more middle of the pack Coens than, say, No Country or Miller's Crossing. Very much worth seeing-you know the Co Bros will always feel right at home in the West.
#17 The Ghost Writer
In the US courts, Roman Polanski was found to be one of the biggest dirtbags of all time. I won't say a whole lot more beyond that it was on account of sexual defiance. But as it turns out, he can still direct the hell outta a film. Amid a slew of controversy, the exiled Polanski re-created the Martha's Vineyard setting of the film in Germany, simply by using a few American automobiles, shooting in a neighborhood that felt decidedly Massachusetts, and throwing up some American flags. He oversaw the final edits of the film from a Belgian prison cell. Long story short, nothing would stop him from getting this movie made.
Good thing, too. Ewan McGregor stars as "the ghost" (his character's nameless), a journalist hired on to edit and write ex-prime Minister Adam Lang's memoirs, played with complex steeliness by Pierce Brosnan. It turns out the job is not quite as easy as McGregor thought it would be. While staying at his oceanside headquarters, he unwittingly starts a relationship with Lang's wife (Olivia Williams), for starters. Then, as he gets deeper into writings and government documents, he comes across all sorts of information he's not supposed to know about. He goes off on his own to investigate certain happenings, and it doesn't take a genius to know its not going to end well for him from there.
This film was very moody, and I loved that about it. All of the scenes in "Martha's Vineyard" were windy and gray, incredibly ominous. The final shot of the movie is insane, and it will stick with you. It's a good thriller in that it keeps you guessing and you, like ghostie, never know who to trust. You're one of the all-time pricks, Polanski, but you sure do make a good movie.
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