Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Film Review - "The Omen" (2006)

(I came across this review on my hard drive from a Film Critiquing course that I had taken. It needed to fulfill a word-quota, so there's a lot of extra bullshit mixed in, but it's a fairly accurate review of the Omen remake.)

2.5/5 Stars


Director: John Moore
Robert Thorn: Liev Schreiber
Katherine Thorn: Julia Stiles
Length:
110 mins
Rated: R

A great film can be compared to any other film and hold it’s own. It is unique enough to be original, yet it follows, to a degree, the consistencies we’ve come to expect from cinema. If either of these two aspects are abandoned, you get a couple of hours of boring redundancy or an experimental mess that’s too inaccessible to have any real impact on the audience. Or both. These cinematic consistencies are fairly obvious. There must be a compelling story delivered in such a way that it’s constantly moving the audience from point A to point B, visually through editing and cinematography, as well as through character and plot development. The film must be identifiable within its genre, but avoid being bogged down with cliches from it’s categorical ancestors. And the most important feature on the checklist of a great film is the concept of verisimilitude, a sense of believability and authenticity. Not necessarily in the sense that the concept of the film might actually happen in our reality, but considering the world that the story exists in, do we buy it? How do the actors react to death, or birth, or anything? Are there holes in the story? We apply our knowledge of the way things work from our own experiences in real life to this false, two-dimensional world in front of us. Do things progress naturally or does the story completely depend on plot devices arbitrary to the director? The filmmakers can only ask the audience to accept so much fiction before we lose our connection with the film’s reality.

Thirty years after The Omen (1976) was released, apparently someone thought it would be a good idea to remake the bone chilling film about the devil (or son of the devil; it’s not exactly a clear distinction, similar to the whole Jesus being God while simultaneously being the son of God-thing) being born into our modern world. Might it have something to do with the available release date of 06/06/06? Maybe? Definitely. At least Wesley Morris seems to think so, stating, “It's a terrible sign for a movie when the sole reason for its existence is a satanic opening date.” I agree. And as far as the story goes, it’s nearly an exact replica of the original. Both versions of this film have been written by David Seltzer, who, as Morris puts it, “...merely appears to have dusted off his original and handed it in to the studio.” Don’t get me wrong, it’s an excellent story. It’s eerie and dark. Extremely dark. Exploring the most terrifying prophecies of a religion halved by evil. But I’ve seen it before. I know what happens. I know how it ends. A faithful reproduction? Maybe. Seems more like laziness to me.

Remaking a movie can't be easy, especially when that movie is a classic. Since the story remains nearly untouched, this film has to rely on something, everything else to prove it was worth making. Its most obvious strength is the cinematography. The entire film moves effortlessly from angle to angle. Smooth, long pans, often beginning with a close shot of something normal, like Damien’s mother (Julia Stiles) watering a house plant, then backing off to reveal the suspense or tragedy that’s about to ensue.

The cinematography also helps bring forward the gorgeous set design and spot-on location selection. There’s a theme of red and black running through the film, from the obvious, blood, to the subtle passing of someone with an umbrella. The black is mostly embodied by the darkness surrounding every shot. Not that anything was hard to see, but there was often a contrast of dark colors with vivid red accents. Much of this was visually stunning, but sometimes it seemed to go into overkill with the color theme. At the very least, director John Moore gets style points to replace some of those he lost with the lack of invention in the story.

Moore gets some more points for some extremely creepy, quick edits of unnerving visuals. As the relationship between Damien and his mother deteriorates and his evil barometer starts to rise, she begins to see terrifying visions. These are presented as dreamlike sequences. Surreal, with an eerie calmness supplemented by flashes of figures and even Damien himself, well, a much more devilish version of him. The editing makes this look almost like subliminal messaging, which adds a bit of depth to this child’s deviousness. Considering we are supposed to believe that this woman is falling out of love with her own child, that kid better be scary.

As it should, this remake has its moments. But again, much of the impact is lost if you’ve seen the original. The atmosphere is the creepiest thing. Silence is used quite well, it adds a lot of tension, especially when Damien’s ominous stare is involved. It also sets up a few exceptionally startling moments. The story itself plays on the innocence of a child very heavily. When we think of childhood, we want pleasantness, safety, pureness. The idea that evil-incarnate has to grow up the same way our children do, and the fact that you may not know that you’re raising the devil, is disconcerting to say the least. But as far as take-home fear goes, this Omen doesn’t give you much.

Speaking of, Damien is played with genuine lackluster by Seamus Davey-Fitzpatrick. Though he may not have the acting chops yet to deliver a convincing performance, he has the sinister-stare down pat. It’s creepy. Really creepy. If they could have figured out a way to keep him completely quiet throughout the entire thing, the film would have been better off. Overall, the acting was tolerable. Most of the secondary and below characters shouldn’t be crossing their fingers for a leading role anytime soon, but this was somewhat balanced by the strong performance of Julia Stiles. Damien’s father, who thankfully wasn’t as eagerly naive as Gregory Peck’s version of the character in the original, was competently played by Liev Schreiber. The most interesting and frightening performance comes from Mia Farrow, who plays the mysterious replacement nanny. This isn’t her first time dabbling with evil children, as her character birthed one in Rosemary’s Baby.

As far as believability goes, you kind of have to buy into the Christian religion to get something out of this concept, but if you allow yourself to accept the mythology as truth, or at least the potential for truth, then this is a very scary idea. The mythology of Christianity comes down to a period of Armageddon. And the “end of days” in the bible is an intimidating and terrifying situation lead by a man, or beast, of pure evil. He/It has many names: Lucifer, Satan, the Devil, Beelzebub...in this case, it’s Damien. Why an American today would name their child after what is commonly known to be one of the devil’s monikers is beyond me. But then again, actress Shannyn Sossamon named her daughter Audio Science, so I suppose Damien is a more conservative choice in comparison.

Applying religious mythology to film is nothing new, especially the darker parts of it. As Roger Ebert calls it, “theological sensationalism,” has become a popular subject matter in feature films. The Exorcist, End of Days, and The Exorcism of Emily Rose to name a few, all manifest variations of the Christian struggle between good and evil. I’m not sure if it’s been due to their measured success or just coincidentally many filmmakers are interested in this subject, but Christianity seems to be the front runner of religion-based horror films. Referring to this 2006 remake of The Omen, Ebert goes on to say:
"...When it comes to dealing with demons and suchlike, Roman Catholics have the market cornered. Preachers of other faiths can foam and foment all they want about satanic cults, but when it comes to knowing the ground rules and reading ominous signs, what you want at the bedside is a priest who knows his way around an exorcism."
I would like to point out a very bold move by Moore to use actual footage of recent, devastating events to initiate the plot of the film. It starts off with a meeting among the Vatican’s top religious leaders interpreting a series of events that seem to be straight out of Revelations. Then again, relative to your beliefs, it’s not too hard to interpret reality as theology. But these devastating events JUST happened. They may incite a reaction, but I don’t think I’m alone in thinking how tasteless it is to prey on these tragedies so soon in a work of fiction, especially one evoking doom. Peter Travers of Rolling Stone Magazine, who did not care much for this film altogether (he states, “Not since Gus Van Sant inexplicably directed a shot-by-shot remake of Hitchcock's Psycho has a thriller been copied with so little point or impact.”), agrees by saying, “...adds insult to injury by exploiting clips of 9/11 and Katrina as portents of doom.”

Despite most of my negativity, you really need to ask yourself what you want out of a remake of The Omen. If you loved the story, maybe it’s good that it isn’t overhauled. But, outside of a few new startling moments, Moore really just gives the film a face-lift. Like a brand updating their logo every generation to keep up with the times, this production only scratched the surface. This is not a great film, but it’s worth a watch for the atmosphere, or if you’ve never seen the original. But I suggest you buy it used if you insist on owning it.

Monday, August 30, 2010

Writing again...And someone who thinks I'm an idiot

So I haven't blogged in a few months. I've been busy. Whatever. Anyway, I've been getting the itch, so here I am.

I haven't visited the blog since around the time I last posted something, so I looked at the review (Avatar) and saw that someone had commented. Instant author-boner; I'm always curious to know how I'm perceived. As it turns out, Anonymous was not exactly dazzled by my critiquing skills, which of course lead to the flaccidification of my aforementioned author-boner (if Palin can say refudiate and Bush can say embetterment, than I can say flaccidification). Anonymous seems like a smart enough contributor, but I don't think he/she really got the review. I'm not defending my review, I mean, this person totally called me out in one spot. But I'm bored, so I'm going to review Anonymous' comment.

Anonymous said...
"Fortunately for Van Gogh and M.C. Escher, they didn't have to bother with dialogue, plot lines, sound effects, music... you get the idea."

You're an idiot. Way to compare completely different individuals who were trying to accomplish different things altogether. Nice choices by the way--Escher and Van Gough...Did you bother to learn about any other artists after your second grade art class?

"The story itself is fairly formulaic, but so is every other epic adventure."

No, actually. Epics like The Odyssey set the formula to begin with. Way to just throw in internet cliches. "LOL EPIC!" Such unconventional wit!

"heartwrenchingly human"
Your writing is fucktasticly awful.
Ok, to start off...Ouch. Fucktasticly awful? I'm not even mad. Fucktastic just made my Top Ten Word list. But still, ouch. Now to the negatives:

Concerning the first half of Anonymous' comment about comparing a filmmaker to single-image artists, I don't understand what the problem is. I clearly state that Avatar is "an incredibly stunning visual experience..." and I also call it a "visual masterpiece" just before. Referring to this single aspect of the application of technology to the art of visual image creation (I don't typically write that technically because it tends to bore people) is completely legitimate as it is the exact concept that James Cameron, M.C. Escher and Van Gogh presented with much of their work.

There are galleries that display still images neighbored by moving ones on flat-screen televisions, both being appreciated for aesthetics and techniques of strictly visual presentation.

And as to the comment about me not taking any art classes after the second grade, I chose those two common names because the review is supposed to be accessible to a wide range of readers, it isn't meant to send them on a search of obscure dead painters' Wikipedia pages just so they can understand a reference in the second sentence of a movie review. Plus, I didn't have my first art class until 3rd grade, so as you can see, I was already at a disadvantage.

Next. Referring to an epic as formulaic is not cliche, but a basic principle of literature and storytelling. The word gets thrown around now in sentences like "that shit was epic!" and I can see how it might not mean to most what it actually means. An epic, when referring to a story, has a set of traits that define it, like every genre (comedies are supposed to be funny, hopefully). A hero, a quest, typically lengthy, victories, losses, narrated in an elevated style, the list goes on defining organization of events and all that noise. It is true that the Odyssey and Iliad and the likes were stories that developed the formula (not exactly sure why that was thrown in there, all genres have to have an origin, of course), but it doesn't make the structure of an epic any less formulaic. And yes, now is the time to think about the implications of an epic shit.

At last, Anonymous commented on the line "heartwrenchingly human" from my review, referring to the blue aliens of the Avatar world. I mean, I get what I was trying to say, but you're right, that's just bad writing. Shit.
I leave you with this: I appreciate comments, the good and the bad. So, thank you to Anonymous, though I only give your comment 2.5 Stars, I still think you are fucktasticly awesome.

In the words of our last leader...“I understand small business growth. I was one.” - George W. Bush (New York Daily News (2/19/00)).

Friday, January 22, 2010

Film Review - "Avatar" (2009)

4/5 Stars

Director: James Cameron
Jake Sulley: Sam Worthington
Neytiri: Zoe Saldana
Dr. Grace Augustine: Sigourney Weaver
Length:
162 mins
Rated: PG-13

Wow! was my initial reaction after the credits appeared, ending this visual masterpiece. That's what Avatar really is, an incredibly stunning visual experience that belongs right beside the Van Goghs and M.C. Eschers in the annals of history.

Here's a situation where a director took the peak of technology in computer generated effects, filmmaking, and three-dimensional presentation by the balls and squeezed every last drop of baby-making juice out of 'em to bring this behemoth of a movie to life. Then he took it to the next level. He wasn't going to let technology restrict him; there wasn't a 3D camera with the capabilities that he needed, so he dumped $14 million into developing a new one.

It's not too often you get a filmmaker that not just attempts put on such a spectacle, but actually succeeds. And it almost never happens that you get one that exceeds not only your expectations, but your hopes. Enter: James Cameron and his expectation-killing machine known as Avatar.

Fortunately for Van Gogh and M.C. Escher, they didn't have to bother with dialogue, plot lines, sound effects, music... you get the idea. I don't think anyone is going to dispute the marvels that Avatar treats the eyes to, but those other elements, those are the ones that can be debated.

The story itself is fairly formulaic, but so is every other epic adventure. If you predict how everything plays out within the first half hour, don't pat yourself on the back, it's not too hard to do. Don't get me wrong, Avatar isn't even close to boring. And just because it's formulaic doesn't mean it's not creative as hell. You've got future Marines traveling to a distant moon called Pandora where levitating mountains, flying monsters, and blue aliens with cat-eyes called the Na'vi are the norm. There is love, betrayal, battle, and some crazy shit you've never seen before. There is plenty to keep you interested for the full 2 hours and 42 minutes.

The dialogue is a little cheesy here and there, but tolerable at it's worst. The acting fit; no one's taking home an Oscar for their performance, but no casting director needs to be reprimanded either. No one is too good or too bad to distract from what we all know is the real focal point here. Though, I would like to point out the performance of Zoe Saldana whose plays Neytiri, a tall, alien princess of a tribe of the Na'vi. At one point, she erupts with anger towards the hero, Jake Sulley (Sam Worthington), with emotion that is so heartwrenchingly human, yet still captures the unique traits of expression of this imagined race of Smurfed-up American Indian metaphors. I was impressed; tip of the hat to her.

Some have called Avatar preachy, or political, but the references and metaphors in the film are obvious and you can read into them what you want, or you can just enjoy the movie.

Go see Avatar in a theater. And for fuck's sake, pay the extra couple of dollars to see it in 3D. You wouldn't watch a color film in black and white... Duh.

Sunday, November 29, 2009

The ART: Article 2 - People Who Don’t Know When to Shut the Fuck Up

The Articles of Rational Thought (The ART)

Today I find myself irritated. I know, me of all people... But nonetheless, I am irritated. I’m sure we’re all aware of the existence of people who don’t know when to shut the fuck up, but I’d like a moment to alert you to their continued presence and plague upon my blood pressure.

We all reside within a carefully constructed bubble made from layers of our own unique emotional craziness. When people start poking their asses around where they don’t belong, it puts pressure on that bubble, which is usually enough to make someone lose their shit. Recently, someone invaded my bubble; this is me losing my shit.

At the time of the incident, I decided to swallow my pride, which isn’t as easy as I thought it would be; it was salty and I had to chew it awhile. Washing it down every few minutes with some vodka didn’t hurt either. Anyway, someone decided to comment on a subject that they in no way had any credibility to comment on.

Now this person had the best of intentions, but but so did Hitler. If you have no frame of reference, opening your mouth is like a child walking into the middle of a movie and wondering what’s going on (“Big Lebowski” anyone?). Sometimes people don’t realize they’re pushing your buttons, I know this, but there are some signs that will tell you that you are, in fact, pushing someone’s buttons. However subtle, they’re there. Such as changing the conversation suddenly, fidgeting in their chair, or explicitly stating, “I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.” But apparently the latter is still too subtle for some.

The voice in my mind explained to my bubble-intruder “discussing this with you would be like asking my dick for advice; it may even stand in attention, but anything that comes out of its mouth is only useful in dressing up a tissue before it’s tossed in the garbage.” Would that have been to harsh to say out loud?

All venting aside, I don’t want to be misunderstood as to why I didn't lay into this person. If inclined to, they could put me in a body-caste with ease. That in no way lead me to keep my mouth shut. This was about respect and practicality.

Remember, sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will cause thirty to forty thousand dollars in long term psychological care. And I’m a fucking gangsta with words.
West, west y’all.
Peace, I’m out.

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Film Review - The Crucible (1990) - In 200 Words or Less

3/5 Stars

Daniel Day-Lewis continues to prove he's worth his weight in gold to the movie industry's dignity. As seen in many of his more recent films, he has the ability to ascend a scene to a place just out of reach of credible negativity ("Because it is my name!").

Rather than pissing away another promising performance, Winona Ryder takes her role as Abigail Williams for a ride on the Crazy Train, which by the end has her looking far worse than Ozzy ever has. She dug deep on this one and deserves credit.

Puritan rage is the most terrifying form of passive-aggressiveness I have ever seen. Those little pilgrims are dangerous, it's no wonder the Indians bailed after a short fight. But in all seriousness, this window into the conservative "fear of what's different" state of mind is unnerving to say the least. History repeats itself as we all know, and it can't be denied by saying this was an isolated incident in a different time.
McCarthyism seems so much less original now...

Really the only problem I had with the film was how much of the dialogue seemed scripted. Apparently Arthur Miller was a better playwright than screenwriter.

Friday, September 4, 2009

The ART: Article 1 - "Preamble"

The Articles of Rational Thought (The ART)

I haven't decided if it's worthy audacity or chronic douchey-ness that possessed me to name a series of blogs (rants) The Articles of Rational Thought, but I'm doing it nonetheless.

Fighting pretentiousness with pretentiousness: One man's mission to change the diet of American personality. There's your one-liner.

I'll continue for those of you with attention spans immune to the current National Infection: Twitter.com. This epidemic of narcissism is a much more pressing issue than global warming, especially since I’m pretty sure Twitter is an Al-Qaedan plot empowering America to become so self-involved that we don’t notice them walk into the White House and take an Obama.
Twitter is to vanity what Viagra is to an aging sex-addict; it’s an enabler and we’re all junkies.

We need some rules here, something to guide us through this chaotic shit-storm communication has turned into. What happened to quality over quantity? Do we all think that everyone we know is so desperate for hourly auto-biographies detailing how we Scooby-Doobed the whether or not to have a bagel mystery from this morning? Either America suffers from a much more terrible case of the "wish-I-was-famous" complex than I thought, or Adam and Eve weren't mislead by a snake and we're all just descendants of two greedy naked people and self-indulgence is embedded in our DNA. (They were Americans... right? Of course, and Jesus would have been white. Hmm... I guess we're all still a little shaky on second grade geography and social studies).

Riddle me this: which is worse, the fact that we use text slang like LMAO (laugh my ass off) more regularly than we breathe, instead of wasting those precious seconds that go into creating an original response in our pseudo-conversations; or, the fact that we actually understand this growing vocabulary of neutered phrases being repackaged in this sudden obsession with acronyms?
Or that both incriminate my texting history? Hopefully my phone records are never subpoenaed for hypocrisy.

The English language is being refurbished and actual words may be just a bit too drawn out to survive. LOL is meaningless. It has the connotations of an ampersand. You did not make me "laugh out loud." You did fail to deserve more than an ampersand in return. Maybe keep it to yourself next time.

But here I am, blogging. I'm a contributor. Fighting pretentiousness with pretentiousness. I'll replace yours with my own. I've never said I wouldn’t preach to you about getting off your pedestal whilst climbing atop my own.
This is my point. The counter-culture is just as pretentious as the establishment they loathe, you know who I'm talking too: liberals, Democrats, progressive-ists, whichever pigeonhole you’ve decided to crawl into. We may be the lesser of two-evils, but that doesn't mean our own brand of bullshit is any less annoying. Organic isn’t a lifestyle just as much as “git-r-dun” isn’t an acceptable response to anything. I’m not telling you to eat pesticide soaked tomatoes, just tone it down a bit. Get off your free-range high-horses, but continue to not paint the Confederate flag on the hoods of your cars; I still appreciate that.

We all need to center ourselves a little closer to the proverbial ham of the sandwich; politically, socially, anything you can add -ly to the end of. Admit that both sides are full of shit and move on like a successful divorce; or marriage. Either way you'll probably only have sex a few more times in your life.

PS
Follow me on Twitter at Twitter.com/WordsofTheEnemy.

Monday, August 31, 2009

Truth Time

My original intention as The Enemy was to sermonize my convoluted rants into the quasi-legitimate medium we know affectionately as the blog. Blog. Blawwg. The only fitting title for word-vomit. But as I am yet to develop an attention span that will deliver a book, I am forced to blog.

I haven't written anything of substance in such a long time and I worried my voice might be a little scratchy. I figured a few film reviews would be enough to get my chops back to a tolerable level. But decent material is starting to emerge (allegedly) and the floodgates that once protected the Internet from my prickery have opened. The shit has officially gotten real.

I'm not going to stop reviewing films entirely, I'm just going to write about whatever I want. A film review here, a series of ostentatious tirades there; a word-monger of narcissistic credibility.
So what can you expect? Hopefully a handful of satisfying incites peppering the massive amounts of bullshit abound, but no promises.

Until next time, I leave you with the immortal words of Al Gore: “I invented the Internet.”

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Film Review - "Tremors" (1990)

3/5 Stars

Director: Ron Underwood
Valentine McKee: Kevin Bacon
Earl Bassett: Fred Ward
Length: 96 mins
Rated: R

I love this movie. Tremors is, in my mind, the defining film of the comedy-horror genre. It may be an homage to 50s monster B-flicks like Them and The Blob with its giant beasts, screaming faces and constant running, but that's where the similarities end. It isn't a comedic accident as a result of bad film-making, it's a unique and surprisingly competent spectacle of terrifying fun and excitement.

All 96 minutes take place in the peaceful (at first), isolated desert town of Perfection, Nevada, with a population of only 15. That population grows suddenly as some new residents appear in the form of 30 foot worms with unquenchable appetites for flesh. Sound like a good time already? Just wait, there's more. These graboids, as they are nicknamed, tunnel through the dirt faster than horses, chasing those willing to run and eating those who aren't. They spew forward tentacles from their gaping mouths (each with a little mouth of its own) that latch onto their prey, then retract, pulling it in for dinner; what more could you want from a monster. Ah yes, they have to have a weakness and that weakness is blindness. Don't make a sound and they can't find you. Silence is a virtue after all. Seems simple enough. That is until the refrigerator kicks on and one bursts through the floorboards and eats someone. Time to run again.

The dialogue is constantly producing quotables throughout, especially the witty banter between our two heroes Val and Earl, played by Kevin Bacon and Fred Ward (Earl: Is this a job for an intelligent man? Val: Well, show me one and I'll ask him.). I could have done with a little less of the shrill whine of Reba McEntire or the constantly annoying and awful performance of Melvin Plug, played by Robert Jayne, which if eaten, may have added at least another half-star to my rating.

Tremors was in-production at a time where the special effects aspect of the film industry was still on the wrong side of the competency barrier of computer generated effects. Wisely, director Ron Underwood decided not to ruin his movie with unrealistic, cartoonish digital effects and went the old-school route with puppets, robotics and very convincing makeup. If only more directors would consult with you before ruining their own movies Mr. Underwood. If only.

The excitement level is high, as is the cheese-level, but with tolerable acting and a consistent pace that keeps the adrenaline pumping, Tremors really is quite a gem. The story doesn't get too bogged down with ridiculous explanations, yet it isn't completely dependent on the audience's own speculation.

This is a great movie. It's not going to be winning any awards, but it isn't intended to. It's fun and funny. It's campy without being vulgar. And it's exciting as hell. It breaks one of the unofficial golden rules of monster movies by taking place almost exclusively in the daytime making it quite a unique perspective on the genre.

At the very least, where else are you going to see a certified multi-platinum selling country singer and the dad from Family Ties (Michael Gross) fire a few thousand rounds of ammo from a seemingly endless supply of weapons in a standoff with a giant worm-monster whose crashed through the wall of their basement? Scenes like that have lead to cult success, which in turn has lead to three sequels and a short-lived television series. One piece of advice: don't watch them.