WIN.

DIRECTED BY JAMES GARTNER

STARRING: JOSH LUCAS, DEREK LUKE, AUSTIN NICHOLS, RED WEST, EVAN JONES, SCHIN A.S. KERR, ALPHONSE McAULEY, MEHCAD BROOKS, AL SHEARER, DAMAINE RADCLIFF, EMILY DESCHANEL AND JON VOIGHT

A sports film-biopic that rigs together a dark-horse victory. There’s a lot of films to garner that kind of attention, right from the times of ‘Rocky’ through ‘Jerry Maguire’ (although not in a very major way) to the more recent ‘Seabiscuit’, but I find I’ve always directed any such thought only to one film, which I surprisingly hadn’t watched until today: ‘Glory Road’. Because these kinds of films are rare, where the forte is the genuineness of the emotions rather than the scale of victory. True, we get to see both in this film, there cannot be a larger victory than that of a Black-American over peers of a different complexion and there’s also the element of honesty seen, it’s like they’re shooting straight from the heart.

I sat back and wondered for a while: How could these scenes have been rehearsed? Or have they even been rehearsed, I don’t think so. Because one needs more than basketball to be in this film, to do justice to whatever it deals with. One needs heart, and that’s predominantly why I can’t comment about performances in this case, it’s simply unjust. Jon Voight is the outsider, inside and out. The rest are a team, the team. No comment either on quirk in humour, cheekiness, the dialogues are spoken, I doubt if you’d find them on paper, as far as I know they’re on film and the people have been speaking those things, doing them. They’re throwing balls into the basket, one team’s winning and the other’s losing the game. Live-action camera and video-editing cannot turn what happened into a fake, it stays real. James Gartner only helped it through, and I think that’s more than fair enough.

I liked the women in the film, somehow that’s pretty new for a sports-film, even ‘Jerry Maguire’ was out of this groove that ‘Glory Road’ sets me up for. I don’t know why there is a misconception (even among women), I think this point needs to be clarified, and yeah “look who’s talking!” right? Well yes, there’s nothing progressive about a break-up in a sports-film that could push the ‘coach’ only deeper where he’s fallen head-first into. Find better ways to emancipate your women, women! The woman who stays succeeds better at being a ‘woman’ than at being a wife, I think that needs saying more than twice. A lot of times. Don Hoskins’ wife (Emily Deschanel) lives through his ordeals, and so does Billy Joe Hill’s girlfriend. Mothers are always meant to stay, you know, I’m not really counting that in, but I was amazed at this story that speaks values and righteousness even off the court. There’s definitely more spoken on it, and as sure as hell, there’s more playing than speech.

The dark-horses are introduced, a team that’s falling apart and the coach isn’t yet another loud-mouth with a soft heart, he’s more tangible and relatable, and I think one needs to be a sportsman to know that. The team is made not by him but by itself, the pinpricks of prickle also contributed by the same. Victories are followed by the wildest of nights, and there’s punishment, discouragement, fear, loathing and liveliness in the escalation. The moments are magic, the screen is life. All you need to do is to live it, to be won.

NO MAN'S AN ISLAND

 

DIRECTED BY PETER HEDGES

STARRING: HUGH GRANT, NICHOLAS HOULT, TONI COLETTE AND RACHEL WEISZ

“What I meant was, I don’t think couples are the future. You need backup. And the way I saw it, me and Will both had our backups.”

‘About a Boy’ ended on those lines, and I think the title’s pretty fitting. It’s about a boy and nothing more, that’s it. Only that there’s a considerable ploy with the fact that a child could father a man at times, if not always. That’s what Will (Hugh Grant) tries to emphasize, that’s what Marcus (Nicholas Hoult) did in the first place, he helped bring out a certain ‘Will’ that people could actually like, and he might not have to conform with being an isle anymore because people just won’t let him be one. He teaches the boy to kiss-up, the boy teaches him to find himself, and I doubt if that would be hard in any way with a beauty like Rachel around to catalyze the change.

I was right in mentioning once that Peter Hedges could enchant me in my meanest of phases, and I don’t attribute that to masterful filmmaking, but of simple honesty and an aim at higher well being. ‘Pieces of April’ proved to give it all in one shot, ‘Dan in real life’ had Steve Carell, but was alright otherwise. The best thing about his kind of films is that they don’t give me the funny feeling of being weak in my knees by falling for melodrama, but rather a strength that here was a man who wanted to differ by looking for goodness and showing just that. There aren’t complexities or stressful interpretation of character, it’s all plainly presented and the show’s fairytale, which is what enhances its charm and I find that feeling unmatchable. There is just so much wellness, so much prosperity of heart and I found myself cheering with the crowd when Will took the stage, smiling as much as Marcus and probably as excited too, and that’s some impact for you.

She so easily inspires hate, Toni Colette. I came out absolutely loathing her in ‘Gone Baby Gone’, perhaps one could attribute that to excessive empathy towards the protagonist (played by Casey Affleck) but it’s undeniable that she’s a negative heavyweight, and what she serves to do in this film is to not enrage but to bring one down, if not to her level, but remarkably close to that. Yes, it is funny to see her cry, and it is funny to hear what Marcus has to say about her state, but this humour, as we find, isn’t ultimate although it lasts the length of the film. There’s a love replacement, and that ‘love’ isn’t just ‘love’ as illustrated by the headline, it’s an overall fondness, for as Marcus puts it, you can’t just live with two people you find you need more to keep you happy. The message is put forth loud and clear by a band of an idler, the woman he ‘loves’ (for the very first time in his life), an introverted child, his older ‘girlfriend’, and his hysterical mother who learns to not hold on to vegetarianism as much as she should hold on to her only son. The end is the beginning, but it’s not just feel-good stuff.

It’s a Peter Hedges film, for heaven’s sake. Something I’m obliged to like, because I wasn’t born a punk and neither was I made so.

NOT MY DRINK

DIRECTED BY TODD PHILIPS

STARRING: BRADLEY COOPER, ZACH GALIFIANAKIS, ED HELMS, JUSTIN BARTHA AND HEATHER GRAHAM

Yes, I watched ‘The Hangover’, about a year (or more) following its release and gigantically successful and well-appreciated run, and I must admit on the forefront that I think I had missed out on some seriously funny moments in a compactly done film, and being one who dug even films like ‘Disturbia’ and ‘21’, I acquiesce that I should probably have watched this a whole lot earlier. But, (and this is the crucial point) I still stand by my claim or stand to not watch this film because it’s just what it is – a Hangover. A bunch of guys trying to remember the fun they had, morose not because they had misbehaved, but more because they don’t remember it, and in that way ‘The Hangover’ is in no way a ‘film’ of sorts. I felt the same about ‘Knocked Up’; same about ‘Superbad’, and this is no different.

But again, this is well written. The task of keeping the viewer in the dark, not giving too much away, keeping it up to hunches and notions in a quirk of suspense in the overall comic ambience required some good screenwriting and I found the writers well up to their mark. I don’t know, the film gave me this impression that usual successful films give, this compliance with the sequence of events rather than an urge demanding for a better one instead – I just watched the film, which means I drunk into what was offered and didn’t ask for more, as far as the writing was concerned. The important task was to keep me clueless till they chose to disclose and that was successfully maintained. Well done!

Negatives? Let’s not talk about it, decidedly. It’s a lost argument to bring ethics into an utterly perverted comedy drama, doesn’t work even as much as it would in a slasher-thriller. Not blood in this case, though, but urine, it’s more than disgusting that Alan is always caught with his pants down. Heather Graham is made to look like an idiot with what could be the most inappropriate role ever, (counting in the likes of Kirsten Dunst in ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’) and the writers could have found no better way to fart on marriage and the sanctity behind the same. The excuse could be that this is ‘a guy thing’, which not only makes the misogyny excusable, but also mandatory.

So how do I end this, then, a film that cannot be called one but which has to be given credit because I was found rolling with laughter, caught with my hand in my pants? The answer is that while ‘The Hangover’ could appeal to the hip, clubbing, weed-smoking new generation (of which I do not identify myself as a part) citing cheek in humour and fairly exaggerated reality, it is an otherwise useless refuge for the conscious film-viewer who, if still existent, would stand up to ask every single moment if these people are capable in the slightest of the extinct thing called ‘human emotion’.

NEEDS HEART

DIRECTED BY JON FAVREAU

STARRING: ROBERT DOWNEY JR., GWYNETH PALTROW, JEFF BRIDGES, TERENCE HOWARD, LESLIE BIBB

I’m too late to even be thinking of reviewing the ‘Iron Man’ since it is sequel-time now, but I happened to catch its TV premiere (only to avoid a certain bestial feature by the name of ‘Twilight’) and I kind of liked it despite its ups and downs, because it reminded me of other fast-paced contemporary films like ‘Wanted’ and ‘The Incredible Hulk’ in being able to hook me in till the last minute, be it with like or dislike. Of course you could question as to whether this film deserved even an ounce of dislike, given that it is pristine and almost entire with its quirks, with a commendable central performance by Robert Downey Jr., who, despite the fact that he’s comically built (I could see love-handles) for the role, comes up to be a whole lot snazzier than anyone else who ever glided, swung, dug or flew.

Not too many things to highlight that the usual critics wouldn’t have done (not to call myself one, though) but I did think there were (or could have been) quite a few points that they would have missed. I thought the timeline was a little messy and unclear, and I couldn’t take it for granted when Tony Stark reveals that he had been in captivity for about three months, I was thinking in terms of days. I mean, I wasn’t even slow to accept and absorb the fact that I was dealing with a genius of sorts, and not to mention an incredibly determined and brave man who also spouts some of the best-written lines that can be managed as a split-second reaction and yet the idea of being allowed to build something in captivity without adequate supervision sounds mad. I was then pulled into yet another yarn that points at an inside scoop, which I do not want to talk about.

The Americans would definitely have skipped this point, discarding, maybe even incinerating it, but I’m really not exhuming anything over here. Two corporate power mongers, one a little softened by personal experience, another who’s destined (or written) to harden to stone (or gold-titanium, in this case) dueling it out on a highway, destroying things that technically aren’t theirs but could possibly be sanctioned a pardon for doing the same only because they can buy their way out of it: Will someone be kind enough to explain the ethics behind this? Or is such an explanation even possible? I’m really not looking at a leftist superhero coming from authoritarian hands, that’s as much a dream as Stark’s commitment, but all the same it would have been better if they just wrecked just their factories (which in turn they do) instead of playing Mr. Hulk and his Abomination. And I think I still haven’t found the right justification for a villain’s villainy in a superhero flick, save for Elijah (Samuel L. Jackson, ‘Unbreakable’) and a couple more from the Nolan-resurrected Batman franchise, with Obadiah Stane (Jeff Bridges, ‘Iron Monger’) found not to be as believable as he is fierce, and yet again, I couldn’t figure out how he learnt to operate the machine so fast considering it took Tony Stark quite a lot of time, and also considering that he “is not Tony Stark” either.

A pretty okay piece of cake with a cherry on top, that’s about all I can say about the ‘Iron Man’, both as a hero and as a film. The romantic interest is nowhere even close to what it was hyped to be, Gwyneth Paltrow simply plays an overly-aged doll. Technological impact and the cheek surrounding it is what amazed me most (a package of Jarvis and the ‘douser’), plus the overall pace of the film, which undoubtedly is decently written and led well by the oddly-shaped Downey from the front. My verdict doesn’t agree to the saying that, “This proves Tony Stark has a heart”, but instead says: “This is another who needs  proof to show that he has something that’s ‘almost’ a heart.”

TWIN SUNSHINE

DIRECTED BY BRAD SILBERLING

STARRING: PAZ VEGA, MORGAN FREEMAN

Now, this is the first time I’m beginning a review when halfway through '10 items or less' although technically the film was done by the time I entered the first word. Scarlet (Paz Vega) is at the wheel while the unnamed actor (Morgan Freeman) puts up an awed expression on his face that’s oddly not of the acting package. It’s not the subtlest of scenes that speaks more than what it is, but rather one of those frivolous pieces that only is what it shows to be. Camera’s from behind, I got to see a side of the actor’s face while my greed demanded more of the lady than the peeks offered by the rear-view mirror, but I knew that I got more than I can ask for, for this woman was more or less a replica of another Spanish heartthrob by the name of Penelope Cruz, and while the latter held in her midst no performance whole sole purpose was to infect joy, her less vulgar peer (I deliberately avoid ‘more decent’) had me hooked by a sufficiently genuine down-to-earth performance, with the glam element restricted to the low-cut top she wore.

What of the other then, the ‘phenomenal’ performer, both in real and as suggested (or introduced) in the film? Well, for one I knew that I shouldn’t make too much of a fuss about him, for acting the role out as it should be has long been a ‘duty’ more than a ‘skill’ and he’s only been living up to that save for a couple of exceptions (‘Gone Baby Gone’, for one) where he tends to get to be too much of himself. But surprisingly, he has more to do than assist Miss Scarlet, for he is who gives her perspective, the actor showing the real person how she should have been carrying herself, a sort of highlight of underplay when there definitely are more rewards to be reaped. It is not like Scarlet hasn’t been living up to her potential, it is that she doesn’t know of it and that is where the actor comes along, helping mechanize the lifestyle she had led so far, showing through illustration that she deserves more. What is about to happen is pre-disclosed a good way ahead of it, and that gets to define the way you’re to look at the film from then: Precisely the sing-along that I previously spoke about.

The film isn’t dialectic, one way I sought to differentiate it from the delightful ‘Before Sunrise’ and its sweetly masochistic sequel ‘Before Sunset’. The emotions are acted out and not spoken out, Paz Vega conveys her exasperation through intermittent heaves and puffs and has a constant frown, Morgan Freeman is ever-smiling, laid-back, and I know I should never touch the aspect of credibility, for I knew from moment one that these are impeccable performers in a film that more or less centres around the roles sanctioned, with more scope for Freeman considering he’s acts as one who acts. There is none but good humour and healthy comedy all the way, an assisting soundtrack that’s pretty okay and the joyride that consists more of straight-hit and feel-good rather than a higher level of intelligence (which in turn is what is expected, considering that these are real characters and not fictionalized representatives) numbs down considerably to the other side of the spectrum in the finale. You are told they would never meet again.

I watched it on TV, one reason why I had soft emotions punctuated by loud adverts but still, '10 items or less' was lovable. Method-acting explorations coupled with Freeman, (who can quite be credited as playing himself, or at least the tranquil, happy roles he’s played before) and Paz Vega’s charm make it a sunshine effort shot in brightness, thrust in brightness, even the night-time drive taking place in a well lit underpass and when it came to curtain-fall, I thought I hadn’t missed anything and that meant they wouldn’t have, either. And when I walked off, I asked myself why one would need to meet again if there’s a chance of lasting memories.

BLUESMEN AND THAT'S ABOUT IT!

 

DIRECTED BY DARNELL MARTIN

STARRING: ADRIEN BRODY, JEFFREY WRIGHT, COLUMBUS SHORT, MOS DEF, EAMONN WALKER AND BEYONCE KNOWLES

The title credits rolled at the beginning of the film and I didn’t know half the names that passed by, with surges of familiarity (and some of reproach) striking at solely a few names, with the John Mayer fanatic in me crying out loud at the sight of one ‘Steve Jordan’ as music producer. I knew at that point of time that I would be watching ‘Cadillac Records’ only for its music, a deft representation of yesteryear bluesmen and the story of a diversification or dissolution of what could be called the mother of all music forms: The Blues. And although the film doesn’t say it, for me it was like knowing for once that before B.B.King, before Chuck Berry, there were ‘the Headhunters’.

The music is amazing considering it’s a reconstruction of sorts, with the bluesy slide-guitar given new breath; the sound overwhelms and Jeffrey Wright is only too much in comfort as Muddy Waters, the plantation worker who never saw life in the corn he reaped. Leonard Chess is not shown to be a visionary but rather as his developed self in a sufficient status, with the menial in him restricted to a two-minute sequence at most and Adrien Brody fits too well too. That’s perhaps where this film works most – not because the characters involved are legendary, but because they’re more believable than they’re legendary and that’s some good casting for you! But surprisingly, the one that worked most for me is not the suave and sensitive Little Walter or the one in stone, Muddy Waters, or even the ever-smoking Len Chess, but rather the entertainer Chuck Berry played to perfection by Mos Def, his duck-walk scintillating. It’s of course, a contest between him and the crying wife, but then again I dismiss her as a cliché. It’s the blues, after all.

It isn’t insensitive on my part to say that this film didn’t work for me as well I wished it would, and I attribute even that to the music, which is so extraordinary that the film can never put up an equal show. There were hiccups, though, with pop-excrement contributed by Knowles who proves she’s no musical than she shows to be, the role of Etta James although physically believable, proving to be too hot in the vocal front. Her voice quivers and so does she, getting away only because of the tears in her eyes. And this is indispensable, mind you, because Etta is probably the most crucial element of the film: The sole woman who crossed the line and I couldn’t entirely say that Knowles did injustice to her either, but rather safely that no one other than Etta herself can possibly have pulled this off. And by that I do not imply that Knowles comes second-best, I just meant that this is a role that simply cannot be essayed, which is precisely the paradox that kind of pains. While on the one hand there were near-perfect matches in form of Mos Def and Jeffrey Wright, there was Beyonce Knowles on the other, weighing further down than both of them combined.

I particularly loved the sentiments though despite the fact that there wasn’t much of treatise where they were concerned, possibly just a couple of noteworthy scenes, one with Chuck and one with Etta, and I loved the Elvis comment, the blues-lover me, not to mention the related allegations. But what finally mattered was that this is a film that could hook me in with its music so much that I didn’t really need the issues to draw me in further, there’s enough depth explored already. Comments on originality would be unwarranted for I know nothing but the music, but I could still (again) safely say that this was a film that documented the music well and presented it to a willing audience, although nowhere near cinematic brilliance. I didn’t watch an ‘Amadeus’ or even an ‘I am not there’: Just some ‘August Rush’ with some real kings and an ill-represented queen.

A LITTLE BIGGER THAN LITTLE

DIRECTED BY DAVID WAIN

STARRING: PAUL RUDD, SEANN WILLIAM SCOTT, CHRISTOPHER MINTZ-PLASSE, BOBB’E J. THOMPSON AND ELIZABETH BANKS

Again, it’s state-of-the-art on a personal level for every multiple-paragraph reflection of a film that I come up with to start with this disclaimer that I, in actuality, am not a critic but a like-hate person or at least someone who covets an evolution into such a frame of mind, of complete bias instead of partiality whence I get to stand as myself and not a trivial mouthpiece of popularized opinion. Hell, why did I have to say too much for that, I could have just stated that I liked David Wain’s 2009 release ‘Role Models’ for (wait for it!) it’s acceptable humour and ample show of wit.

Paul Rudd, the universal ‘sober’ guy who delighted in Judd Apatow’s intolerably tolerable ‘Knocked Up’ takes up this new non-committal pragmatist who depresses himself so as to show that he could excel at that too, but it’s mostly the crisis of a middle-aged single man, which means he isn’t as much from Mars as you’d normally expect him to be. Wheeler (Seann William Scott) could probably be found to be more relatable, the usual ‘hit in and quit it’ guy (as the character mentions at a point of time) and the turn for the good comes in form of a pioneer Energy Drink that proves to be disastrous, and Danny’s girlfriend Beth (Elizabeth Banks) who decides to move out. But nonetheless, it’s still the ‘girl in the sweatshirt’ for Wheeler and a self-created end of the world for Paul, which means that this film is incredibly not about sexual turntables, but about something way better, something that’s higher priority.

It’s about Partners in Crime and a ‘Kiss-my-anthian’ triumph.

I mean, personally, any film that can treat adolescence presentably deserves attention, or so I believe (hence the ‘personally’). The character line-up is not that much more than just commendable, the end is almost obvious but there’s this refreshment in form of the extended finale with one of the truest of battles fought, led by the ever-persevering Cat, and I’m talking about a quarter of an hour of guaranteed hilarity minus histrionics of any sort. Here’s a film where the comic moments actually raised some laughs, where the headmistress (or equivalently placed) did cocaine and where there’s an actual sense of warmth that I felt when I headed out of it, with ‘KISS’ firing their ‘Lovegun’ (reminds me to check the band out!) where Danny gets Beth through an outrageous song that’s only worthy of the film and everything that it tossed in. A fun-film experience that promises to go deeper, ‘Role Models’ worked for me and I think these people can definitely be looked up to.