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.

JUST SEVEN WASTED MINUTES?

DIRECTED BY DAVID FINCHER

STARRING: MORGAN FREEMAN, BRAD PITT, KEVIN SPACEY, GWYNETH PALTROW

I don’t really think this is going to be any sort of ‘review’ as such, I mean I watched a TV premiere and not a pause-rewind-play version, which means that I got what I got and maybe I didn’t get what they intended to tell me, and by ‘they’, I imply all the forces involved in conceiving, writing and sponging on the screen what I saw. Alternate endings, right? It sucks when I have to come to know of that; that a film is not entirely in the creator’s hands, and to then call the ‘creator’ a ‘creator’ sounds debatable to me.

Subtle thriller, serene Morgan Freeman, jumpy Brad Pitt who only clearly showcases some of the mannerisms he is to undertake as ‘Rusty’ Ryan in an upcoming project named ‘Ocean’s Eleven’, except that he knew to shave in that film, while the only thing he shaves in this are the hairs on his chest. No, I’m not depriving these people of credit for their performances, I’m only merely keeping this film on the ground as opposed to the helicopter ride people intend to take through it. I agree that it’s an eighth deadly sin called ‘idiocy’ to have expected any sort of emotional subtlety in a David Fincher flick, it’s a ninth called ‘hope’ to have thought Gwyneth Paltrow would do anything more in this film than bear a child and get killed. This is the guy who made the ‘Zodiac’ heroic while the lesser rated version showed the killer as he is and yet, was lesser rated. The most impact that Fincher managed was the employment of Howard Shore, who in turn chose to employ a certain John Sebastian Bach, and we strangely found it fulfilling. And it’s a shame having watched Kevin Spacey back in time, like through ‘21’ and ‘American Beauty’ and the intolerable ‘Usual Suspects’, this looks amateurish, but he certainly had his presence felt simply because he was Kevin Spacey, the one people expect a lot from and expectation never leads to disappointment, but a hallucination of false hope which is only sufficient.

So what am I saying, right, I mean with all this Hemingway bullshit greeting my disappointment, only to drench it further when I really wanted something else. A film is not democratic and if it can be, then I wasn’t looking at the right place. William Somerset is written to drop his gun down, David Mills is doomed to pull his trigger and John Doe is destined to win? ‘3:10 to Yuma’ is a film, ‘Phonebooth’ isn’t. Neither is this and I was happy that I can maintain my stand that David Fincher is destined to suck. That’s his deadly sin, a tenth as I write it to be.

BASIC

DIRECTED BY SHAKTI S. RAJAN

STARRING: PRASANNA, SIBIRAJ, RAMYA RAJ, S.P.BALASUBRAHMANYAM, YASMIN

I ideally wouldn’t want to begin this analysis by stating that I actually liked this film, but having mentioned it all the same, I would hereby start by validating my stand, before which there’s a need to establish that I do know that this film is heavily borrowed (beyond denial) and it is despite that intricate fact that I liked it, not to mention certain other frown-inducing factors. And that is why my review should have two paragraphs of equal length before I get to conclude.

‘Naanayam’ is an actual film, and this is what makes it stand out, despite a handful of digressions in form of music tracks and a couple of clichés, here and there. Fair beginning, not overdone, a steady pace that quickens when needed, suspense elements that are only guessable when the writer wills it, (although there can always be a hunch) with an almost satisfying finish, the incompleteness arising out of the only thing that disconcerted me. The film is basic, pretty much what a fair thriller should be, focused more on narration speed than action, with the jigsaw fade-in-fade-out coming to be effective. The characters are introduced well, there is individual depth further reinforced by casting and voiceovers (in case of supporting artists) where the poorness of performance is fairly shielded. But I wouldn’t include the music score as part of my positives package, for I happen to be in a sort of fury against a certain James Vasanthan. A soundtrack is undoubtedly a combination of Original Score and music tracks and it wouldn’t be wise to call wise a performance that is only half-inclined. But needless to say, the background score works well, a tribute of sorts to yesteryear crime films and the work of Ilaiyaraaja in them, with the music direction in itself needing mention, for the man knows when to score and when to not. Acting performances are solid with the only negative serving to be the bridge between my paragraphs, a crude representation of the film itself.

Although I loved the distribution of them, I couldn’t bring myself to like the twists. I mean, sure (spoiler alerts, if needed to be sounded) ‘femme fatale’, appearances deceive, I can understand that there’s been a lot of Kim Basinger-Catherine Zeta Jones combo being lived here (not literally, though) and I can understand that the whole film revolved about that, but I can never understand how it can be intended to portray a woman in that way, solely to abuse and exploit, never to emote. And speaking of which, I thought Suchitra (voiceover for Ramya) needed equal (or more) mention, citing the fact that it was the voice that acted and not the body or there were two separate streams in which I chose the vocal path than an actress who looks to be below par. No, not even a physical acting mention for the ‘heroic’ sequence through the sensors, for that could easily have been duped, and I felt the show had to be where needed most. Also, as if the exploitative woman cannot get any lower, the casting of SPB didn’t work well with me. I mean, come on, there is a lot more at stake than just wealth, or am I the one who is criminally wrong? And, the music tracks, as mentioned. The melody number is disappointing on account of familiarity, while the rest aren’t worth a mention, and prodigy, if existent, needs a reminder.

I’ve kept my promise, although I have one more thing to say, in a neutralist way. The set-up looks far-fetched, beyond doubt. Professionalism is what is intended, but crude mimicry is what I reaped, and although I didn’t mind, I need to state that in cases like these, underplay works better than flamboyance and that needs to be understood. And also regarding the ‘ocean’ of similarities gossiped about, it is only natural that to defer would put one at a higher risk of screwing up than to subtly comply, which could actually even turn out like a tribute to the respective ‘inspirations’. And there’s nothing terribly bad about that, is there?

So, ‘Naanayam’ again, is what a film should be so as to even think about such a process as criticism, and once through, it only worked as much as it didn’t, thanks to a couple of bad casting instances and spoilers in form of music tracks. And that’s something that needs change, desperately.