A slight delay

My apologies for the extended pause in this little writing exercise. For some reason, the Samsung servers that bring Netflix to my TV went all flakey for the better part of a week. Its tough for me to watch on my laptop and write my notes at the same time, so I waited for the fix.

And then there was Thanksgiving.

It's back and streaming cleanly once again. No endless buffers or claims that it isn't connected to my network. I must have called RCN a dozen times until I realized it was my Samsung wifi blu-ray player. I'm sure Samsung eventually received a number of complaints, including mine.

And then, there was Thanksgiving.

So I am back at it. Although I am becoming increasingly active, I am enjoying this literary exercise. I cannot say with any certainty that I will be continuing this come the middle of this month, or if I will be able to even come close to my goal. But it is a fun thing to do to pass the time.

Coming soon: God Bless America, Robot & Frank.

And then, there... ah, you get the point.

Boondock Saints: Crime Drama, 1999

Perhaps some murders are sanctioned from on high. And by high, that’s not kings or presidents or superhero or intergalactic judge, but the big “He” with a capital H. If there were a god of sorts, meddling in the affairs of men, how might He anoint those charged with such a task? Through the ages, there have been countless murders and even wars in the name of the Lord, but what makes them right and just?

Boondock Saints throws that question to the screen, and their answer seems to be – it can be right and just when treated with equal parts exceptional violence, judicious humor, and deep spiritual resolve. And especially in the deepest, darkest Irish boroughs of Boston.

The film is somewhat of a cult phenom, having provoked a bidding war over writer/director Troy Duffy’s script long before the finished production went into limited release, earning all of $35,000 on 5 screens. However, the story found the anticipated audience in VHS and DVD sales, totaling more than $50 million, becoming an underground success in the process and giving birth to two sequels.

The story follows the brothers MacManus, two Irish lads (Connor, played by Sean Patrick Flanery, and Murphy, played by Norman Reedus) who seem to fill their life with work at butchery, praying at church and playing in a decidedly Irish pub. The film opens as the brothers, to nobody’s apparent surprise, walks past the priest as he gives his sermon, railing on about the evil inherent in the indifference of good men. They say communion alone, as the priest continues. Dressed in dark colors and with a decided menace to their gait, nobody reacts as they silently exit the cathedral, as if they are above mere mortals.

Their hangout, a local pub run by seemingly tourettes afflicted Doc (Gerard Parks), is being taken over by Russian thugs, who pick a bad time to visit. They raise the ire of the brothers and are disgraced before being forced out of the bar. The next morning, the mobsters surprise the brothers at their home in bed, and the two dispatch the Russians in self-defense.

The death of the Russian mobster brings FBI Agent Paul Smecker, played by Willam Dafoe as a flamboyant and well coiffed investigator with a character texture that feels faintly lifted from the likes of other well known and afflicted characters. He dances around the crime scene, listening to opera. In a nearly Sherlock delivery, Smecker leads the detectives through what happened, completely taking the piss out of a local homicide detective in what becomes a running joke. They even discover where the MacManus’ apparently squat.

The boys turn themselves in, dressed only in bathrobes, as local heroes. Even Agent Smecker likes their story and clears them of wrongdoing. They stay the night at the station to avoid the press, and that night receive their “calling”, where they are instructed to remove evil.

A number of scenarios develop as the fraternal twins set out to free the pub from the greedy arm of the incoming Russian mafia. In turn, they also become hunted, leading to a brilliant performance by Billy Connelly, as an Irish killer, Il Duce, held by the Russians to do their bidding. As with so many comedians, his characterization and on-screen presence is unexpectedly excellent, whether emptying six handguns in short order, or having a heart-to heart with the brothers MacManus.

Through all of these capers, the brothers come through mostly unscathed in spite of a number of things going wrong. And these seeming misteps, bad timings, and other uncanny devices that should cause their failure, instead cause complete success. So, in time, it does feel as if the brothers are indeed ordained by some greater spirit to carry out this judgment from above. At times, they do take stock of what they are doing, trying to find realistic boundaries for what constitutes an executable bad guy. But most time, the criminals come to them.

It is, overall, a satisfying film if you are looking for storylines of righteous vengeance. The violence is graphic and ever present through the film, whether needed or not, so it is not considered a family film. And the values may be considered questionable. But the snappy writing, well delivered dialogue and some good plot twists lead a film to what almost feels like an end, but never really finishing. The very ambiguity of a solid ending is reinforced by the last moments turning documentary style, asking strangers whether what the vigilantes did was right or wrong.

The two biggest failures are the gradual petering out of the plot until the movie uses the sad ending device, and the complete lack of character development in the MacManus brothers. They are interchangeable, with one performance blending into the other’s. They may be fraternal twins, but they appear more as a single personality with a split body.

Boondock Saints may ask the question about morality in killing, and may spend the ending trying to work it out with normal folk, but the entire middle is about justifying such killings in the eyes of the Lord, and in the eyes of society as the righteous vigilantes. If that’s the answer the film want to forward, why bother asking the question in the first place?

Ratings: 6 of 10 potatoes

Pain level: 3-4

Medication: 600 mg gabapentin, 10 mg oxymorphone

TO WATCH BOONDOCK SAINTS ON NETFLIX, CLICK HERE

End of Watch: Drama, 2012

In an era of digital filmmaking, where “groundbreaking” means a step closer to eliminating the art of acting in real locations, and studio budgets are geared more and more towards CGI, its nice to see a film that goes back to the basics while taking enough risks to make it a more notable and long-lasting film than, say, any Mission Impossible movie. End Of Watch is transformative, and raised the bar for cop films with a kick in the gut.

Jake Gyllenhaal took a big risk on this film as both executive producer and lead, Officer Bryan Taylor of the Los Angeles Police Department. He and his partner, Miguel Zavala (Michael Peña) were so dedicated to the project, they spent months preparing with the LAPD, riding along with the officers in South Central and learning the trade.

The result is a phenomenal combination of filmmaking basics– camera work, writing, acting, and editing – that is powerful, imaginative, and inventive, without resorting to CGI.

The story can almost be framed as a 60’s Western. Officers Taylor and Zavala are cowboy cops, who have a reputation for getting into situations where bullets fly. An opening shootout meant administrative leave for the two. Following them on their first patrol back shows how depressed and dangerous their precinct is. South Central LA is an almost different world, with dilapidated neighborhoods, gutted houses, gang warfare and guns everywhere.

Taylor is a former marine who wants his detective badge, so he convinces Zavala to stake out a house where they discovered a Mexican gang hangout. His chosen path for advancement pits the two against a dangerous cartel that wants them dead.

Unlike so many cop movies, there is no threat from within. There are no dirty cops or shady politicians. The only threat are from the “Indians” on the streets they took an oath to protect, even in the face of gang warfare, drugs, human trafficking, and a changing urban ecology. In spite of ominous warnings that the cartel was hunting them, their “cowboy” bravado becomes their undoing.

The film is visually striking, right from the pulse-raising beginning; Taylor’s soft-spoken, gentle, almost poetic narration runs in perfect counterpoint to the hyper-edited chase that unfolds, leading to a shoot out, and killing the perps. The entire scene is told through the police car’s dash-cam.

This motif not only continues through the film, but much of the story is told through lapel-cams, dash-cams, and handheld cameras. This is woven into the story where we learn Officer Taylor is back at college, explaining that he needs to make a documentary film for a class. In the locker room, talking to the camera, he introduces the tools of the trade, such as guns and handcuffs, but also includes a small lapel-cam that officers wear.

Many of the scenes begin with footage that looks like a dash or lapel cam, or Taylor’s own handycam. Once a location is established, hand-held film cameras are employed, with a similar wide-angle look, to maintain that voyeuristic and loose feel. It’s seamless, putting the audience there for the ride – whether its in the patrol car as the two cruise the streets, or in a gangbanger’s car as they prepare to unleash a hail of bullets.

The story does a great job of justifying the technique by incorporating the practical cameras into the script.(on a personal note, I dislike cinema verite, but when the disorienting motion is relevant to the story, it makes sense to me). Another thing it does better than any other cop film in memory is the attention to realism. The time the leads spent researching served them well. The banter in the patrol car, often improvised, is said to impress real police with the representation. Curse filled to nearly record proportions, the dialogue is gritty and realistic, but also filled with the spirit of partnership and brotherhood; more often then not, the two are just talkin’ shit about their lives like a married couple.

The editing is truly frenetic at times, throwing manic pacing faster than the eye can manage; but the result is almost a subliminal experiment in montage, where the perceived ferocity of a fight is the result of speedy edits. It elevates the pulse and fosters almost sympathetic reactions from the audience.

This film doesn’t have a happy ending. It’s too real to stoop to that level. But even though it might be a little unexpected, ends on one of the single most emotionally driven sentences in film. To some, it might seem a little cheesy or contrived, especially if the fraternal camaraderie is lost on them; but if you ask a cop, chances are they’ll tell you that End of Watch finally got it right.

And without a blip of CGI.

Rating: 8 of 10 piñatas

Pain Level: 7

Medication: 200 mg Lyrica, 20 mg oxycodone

TO WATCH END OF WATCH ON NETFLIX, CLICK HERE

A personal note about Netflix streaming service

There are far too many things between point A and point B on the interwebs to easily figure out where a problem might lie. In the last few months, I started having problems with Netflix loading on my Samsung blu-ray player. At first, it was just connecting; I would receive a notice that “Netflix cannot not get an internet connection at this time”, in spite of having a solid, wired connection. A few retries and I would connect.

Then, as I began exploring the deeper recesses of Netflix’ online library, titles would take an awful long time to load. Lately, these films stop repeatedly, and I get the “rebuffering” slider. Sometimes, it outright doesn’t connect and says the film isn’t available. Other times I have to watch a film that looks like it was encoded for an old-fashioned low-bandwidth ISDN line – absolutely horrific.

This kept happening when I was trying to watch Starbuck. I was disconnected at least four times during viewing. And nearly all of the film looked like it was encoded for a 480 screen at 15 fps. Calls to RCN and line tests showed that I was receiving 50 mbps download speed, which is at least 3 times faster than needed for clean, streaming HD.

While watching another obscure title today, the same thing kept happening. When it was over, I decided to play an episode of Breaking Bad. It loaded almost immediately, and the picture was full HD/Blu-ray quality with no loss. I was stunned. I went back to the film – and it still looked like ass and kept re-buffering.

My only conclusion is that the Netflix cloud is somehow optimized for the most popular titles. This is not unlike the video store, which would buy 40 copies of a blockbuster movie, but only one copy of an old classic. But in this case, its Netflix cloud servers. The titles that are expected to receive the most play must get better distribution for clean streaming, whereas these smaller titles are probably relegated to a single distribution point to save space.

What does that mean? To someone like myself who wants to see the library of old classics, foreign, and obscure titles that make up most of the Netflix film archive, it means that we will continue to be treated as second rate citizens, getting lesser service for the same price point. If you want to see some of the films I have reviewed, chances are you will have to deal with low-bandwidth encoding and drop-outs as Netflix once again ignores its hardcore users where they have the lowest profit margin. Reminds me of the “choking” they do on their DVD titles to make sure you don’t get to rent too many in a short time period. Except now they are choking streaming customers.

If anyone else has this problem, and sees the same kind of service creep happening, please chime in. I’d love to hear other voices that have noticed this.

Starbuck: Canadian comedy, 2011

Foreign films in foreign languages can be tricky to watch -- you have to follow the bouncing ball to keep up. The nuances of language, the subtleties of inflection and the complexity of discussion are a few key weapons in the actors’ arsenal, and all prove fairly worthless when watching a film in an alien tongue. The rest of the craft plays out on the face and in the eyes of the practitioner. Thankfully, expressions tend to be a universal trait, and a particularly important one for actors.

Patrick Huard has a particularly expressive face which serves him well – at least as far as this reviewer is concerned, hamstrung by the language barrier. His portrayal of David Wozniak in the Quebec, Canadian film Starbuck gives his mug ample opportunity to venture across the gamut of visualized emotion. But he excels most at shock and joy, one of which is pretty much the universal expression when learning you’ve fathered 533 children.

If this sounds familiar, it should. The American remake with Vince Vaughn, Delivery Man, is releasing on November 22. The original, Starbuck, released in 2011, is being remade in several other languages as well, which is a fair remark about the broad appeal of the emotionally engaging story. To a foreigner. Watching in subtitles.

The original story opens with David at the sperm bank, making a deposit. Flash forward to the present, where David has unwelcome visitors shaking him down for an eighty thousand dollar debt. Although he has a job in the family business driving the delivery truck, he started growing weed to try and make extra cash. To complicate matters further, his on-and-off girlfriend just learned she is pregnant.

He seeks counsel from his friend, attorney, and father of five, Avocat, (played by Antoine Bertrand, who earned the Canadian film award, a Genie, for Best Supporting Actor). He plays the larger-than-life, boisterous lawyer in opposition to David's character, who is more of an absent-minded and slightly starstruck mensch.

David arrives home to find a stranger in his house – an attorney, warning of an impending lawsuit. The fertility clinic from his youth used his sperm for 533 pregnancies, and 142 of his biological children joined a class action suit to reveal the identity of the father. He was known only as Starbuck, the identity used at the clinic, taken from the name of a famous racing horse stud.

While Avocat works on a defense, David quietly starts to take stock of this newfound family. The attorney left behind a list of the children, so he begins following them, at times acting as a guardian angel. At the same time, Avocet countersues the clinic for two-hundred thousand, and wins.

Even though David must remain anonymous to collect the money and clear his debt, each encounter with his children softens the resolve on his face. Huard has that uncanny ability, best compared to Robin Williams, when it comes to expressing glowing joy through the eyes alone. Each new child he meets, regardless of their status, health, ideology or orientation, brings a lighter step to his gait and a twinkle to his eye, all while David prepares for his “own” child.

This is, with certainty, a salute at fatherhood, with all its worries and missteps along the way parsed out through newfound children. Imagine a father’s greatest fears and hopes for his unborn child, all lived out in reality; these are meted out with each new meeting. It’s sending the message that being a father can be as rewarding as motherhood, and just as virtuous, regardless of the child.

Granted, David never had to change their diapers or their pukey clothes as they grew up, so on some level, the message rings a little hollow. But it's not the story of an absentee father in the least. And as a comedy, messages are not expected. But in this case, a little message goes a long way to helping the humor hit the mark.

As a foreigner reading subtitles, I might have a different read of Starbuck if I could understand Canadian French. Perhaps I wouldn’t have found it as funny, or felt just the right amount of heartstring tugging, to have enjoyed it as much. I am certainly curious to see what the American version, also directed by Ken Scott, has to offer in comparison. On camera, Patrick Huard seems to have a natural charisma in addition to comedy chops. When Delivery Man makes it to Netflix, I’ll have the chance to see whether Vince Vaughns’ grating charm makes for a better David Wozniak.

Rating: 7 of 10 slices Canadian bacon

Pain Level: 3-4

Medication: 200 mg gabapentin, 10 mg oxycodone

POUR REGARDER STARBUCK SUR NETFLIX, PRESSE ICI

He Was a Quiet Man: drama, 2007

Mind-fuck films are truly awesome when done well. It’s a description, rather than a genre, as there are examples in everything from horror to comedy to drama, but they are most often found in thrillers. It’s that feeling of forcing the brain to wrap around something spun of pure trickery, with nobody in the drivers seat. Its the suspicion of having your mind used by the filmmaker, but in a way that keeps circling the outskirts of your thinking long after you close your eyes for the night. Think Memento. Or Brazil. Or He Was a Quiet Man.

The biggest problem with a good mental mind-fuck is that it’s often difficult to review without sacrificing many of those elements. So often the plot is a mental puzzle solved at the end, with each piece an important part.

He Was a Quiet Man is one of those –a story told so compellingly its still being mentally reviewed days later. To opine correctly is also to skirt around a number of plot items that, if revealed, could spoil the entire experience. If I could get away with describing it as a mind-bendingly dark treatment Office Space crossed with Walter Mitty, I would leave it at that.

Bob Maconel (Christian Slater) is a frayed-at-the-seams office worker, with a mind-numbingly dull job. It’s clear from his unkempt and bookish ways that his was the lunch that became the daily game of “keep away” in elementary school, a game still gleefully played by Bob’s middle management at work.

Bob is first seen in his cubicle, thinking about each of his intended victims while loading their bullet into his pistol. Moments before he takes action, his boss interrupts him with work.

At home, Bob keeps a tank of goldfish. One of them speaks to him, needling him for not successfully blowing the office away, which Bob counters with the observant “then I would not be here to feed you.” He spends his time at home painting figures on match-heads. At work, he eats lunch outside, presssing a red button on a black box. In his mind, it blows up the building. He is a self-lighting tinderbox.

It seems the only thing at work that gives Bob any joy is Vanessa (Elisha Cuthpert), an executive assistant kind enough to compliment the tchotchke hula dancer on his monitor. Her passing is like a fresh breeze, and he drinks in her brief presence like cooling water on a blistering day.

That afternoon, he goes through his ritual again of naming his intended victims while loading the pistol, but he drops the last bullet, the one meant for himself, to the floor.

To further discuss the plot from there would be a disservice to anyone who wants to see this film – and it’s is a movie worth watching for the details alone. The performances are, on the whole, excellent. Slater and Cuthpert both shine – Bob is the nerdy and inappropriate introvert who is thrust into the hero spotlight, and Vanessa the office beauty, struck down and paralyzed by a bullet. They play off each other with an intensity that adds to every scene – whether she is cursing him for keeping her alive, or caught in an awkward moment of intimacy. Although more “black” than “comedy”, Cuthpert lets her chops steal a few laughs where the script lets her. William Macy does an excellent turn as the company CEO.

The body of the film is rich with clues as to what’s really amiss: in the characters, in the dialogue, in set design. The script is inventive and different, successfully tackling the increasingly familiar news story about office shootings with a unique perspective. At times a love story, at times a rag-to-riches tale, and always a story of psychotic break, the tale is told through Bob’s own lying eyes. Slater makes this tragically broken character come alive, regardless the circumstances.

Like so many successful mind-fucks, the end leaves almost as many questions as it answers. We know what the end result is – but what did the journey mean? From the significance to the number of animated hummingbirds, to the glimpses of the refrigerator, we realize that everything we saw has a deliberate significance. The little bits of backstory casually mentioned, the subtleties in the relationship with Vanessa, and the talks with hallucinatory goldfish could be picked apart by a most observant detective to uncover the waiting ending.

But for most of us mere mortals, it just means a second viewing, to see how the tasty morsels all come together to reach the necessary end. Which makes He was a Quiet Man just as fun the second time around.

Rating: 4 of 5 apple juice containers, empty

Pain Level: 2

Medication: 600 mg gabapentin, 400 mg ibuprofen

TO WATCH HE WAS A QUIET MAN ON NETFLIX, CLICK HERE

Taking Requests

A word to the wise... spinal surgery is a real pain in the neck. Things like physical therapy, insurance paperwork, and calls to the doctor take up most of the prime time when I'm not in too much pain or not drowsy from medication.

I was hoping to hit 100 film reviews before I returned to work, but I'm far off that pace at the moment. Looks like the number will be closer to 40 or 50 - but its not the quantity, but quality, right?

For the most part, the films I have watched and reviewed have been completely random in choice. I pick up the remote, navigate around until something strikes my fancy. Until now, I have avoided films that I have seen before, with the exceptions of Old Boy and Apocalypse Now. By choosing a interesting mix -- docs, small films I would have passed by, popular flicks I missed in the theater -- I hope to finish with a well-rounded blog that may provide a small and select service for the next few years.

So help me make some choices for the remainder of my time! Have a film you see on Netflix but haven't decided if its worth watching? Suggest it in a comment or an email at biodock@gmail.com! Have a great hidden gem you think people should know about? Suggest it! Want to make a gullible blogger watch a movie that makes grown men throw up? Suggest it! You have an upcoming date and can't decide which Netflix choice has the best odds at getting you some action? Shoot me the list! (the correct answer is "none of them." Go to a damn movie if you are on a date!)

Did I mention that I am taking suggestions?

Olympus Has Fallen: Action Thriller, 2013

The “action thriller” had been a long time in the making, even though parts of this combination genre paraded on the screen in different guises: westerns, late 60’s and 70's action/cop movies with never-ending car chases, and most notably, Kung-fu films. The Taking of Pelham 1-2-3 is one of the American grand-daddys of this formula, combining the non-stop pacing of an action movie with the less passive and typically “hooked” ending of a thriller.

And then came the Big Daddy of action thrillers, 1987’s Die Hard, which stole the mantle of “blockbuster film” from the more uplifting and less violent fare of science fiction (think of the Star Wars and Star Trek franchises, ET and Close Encounters). It has yet to relinquish the title, with studios continuing to pay top dollar for actors and effects. Even Spielberg’s more recent stab at aliens – remaking War of The Worlds – abandoned the science fiction genre for the action thriller formula. It’s why Gene Roddenberry’s vision of peaceful interstellar space has been challenged so bluntly with the reboot by JJ Abrams, camouflaging action thrillers in hollowed out sci-fi shells to pursue the $80 million opening weekend.

Personally, I enjoy finding where today’s action thrillers draw elements from Die Hard’s rich pastiche of now formulaic troupes. Die Hard is a film about a fish out of water, facing an existential threat by being heavily outgunned and outnumbered in a confined space – and that’s just the 20-word pitch.

Olympus Has Fallen is also a film about one man facing an existential threat by being heavily outgunned and outnumbered in a confined space. But in this case, Secret Service agent Mike Banning (Gerard Butler) is no stranger to the building under siege – it’s the White House, where he formerly protected President Benjamin Asher (Aaron Eckhart) and his family. His inability to save the first lady after a car accident meant a change in position, so on the day North Korean terrorists decide to attack the White House, execute the South Korean Prime minister (Keong Sim), and take the President and cabinet members hostage, Banning is next door in the Treasury building.

One of the great hallmarks of Die Hard was the German-like precision that enabled a dirty dozen to secure a world-class building and take a floor of hostages. The White House is a much harder target, requiring greater firepower. But with similar certainty, a heavily modified C-130 gunship, a few modified sanitation trucks, an armored car, and a number of Asian tourists (who are really terrorists with guns and explosives in their backpacks) successfully drive the President and other high-ranking officials into the sealed bunker. Which is exactly where the terrorist leader takes them hostage and makes his demands.

Banning manages to get on the White House grounds during the initial salvo, finding his way to the oval office where there are a whole bunch of secreted goodies guaranteed to help a top-notch action hero. Namely, weapons and a satellite communication system that lets him talk to the situation room in the Pentagon, where a statesmanlike Morgan Freeman plays the Speaker of the House and acting President.

Of course, there is a reason the terrorists had to get the President into one of the most sophisticated sealed bunkers in history, and it has to do with blowing up the U.S. Which is why noble, once shunned Banning is back in the White House. Or what’s left of it after 30-mm cannons rip its façade to shreds.

Armed, Banning is the prototypical action hero, kicking ass, taking names, and breezing through one-liners with more sass and alpha sarcasm than Bruce Willis asking “Who’s driving that car? Stevie Wonder?” A former Army Ranger, he’s just great at ducking bullets, killing guys with his hands, knives, and, of course, a variety of guns, and excels at being the only guy standing following scathing volleys of machine-gun fire.

There are a few obstacles first… the President’s son is somewhere in the building. But Banning dispatches that problem, along with a handful of bad guys, in a few tense minutes. And then he goes about trying to rescue POTUS.

Among the other Die Hard established troupes are the “assault-that-the-enemy-planned-for” which always has a catastrophic end for the assault team, whether in the LAPD SWAT’s “R.V.”, or the SEAL teams dispatched to take back the White House in multiple helicopters. By the time Banning eliminates the threat, much like McClane, it’s too late to save the cowboys.

And then there is the “heart-to-heart-with-the-enemy.” Remember when Hans Gruber pretends to be an American to fool John McClane? There’s a turncoat ex-Secret Serviceman (played by Dylan McDermott, who is playing an eerily similar character in this television season’s Hostages) who gets surprised by Banning in some cramped secret space and tries pulling the “hey buddy” shtick, with less-than satisfactory results.

And then there’s the “enemy-died-with-the-innocent” troupe shared by both movies; and both use helicopters. In all uses, this troupe is a red herring of the highest order.

There’s not much else to say about the film, except to acknowledge that it seems a hodgepodge of pieces from other movies, ranging from Mission Impossible films to every Die Hard in the franchise. That being said, and spoilers being revealed (like you don’t see them coming a mile away), the film does keep up a frenetic pace, features solid performances from a number of heavy hitters, and manages to be entertaining in spite of its own inherent pitfalls, doing everything it can to keep from stagnation.

This is just a symptom of a tired genre. Any respectable fan of action movies will read every play before it happens, simply because its all been done before, and better. Which makes me curious about a competing “Die Hard in the White House movie,” White House Down, released only a few months later. Hopefully, this will soon be on Netflix streaming as well.

There’s nothing inherently bad about Olympus Has Fallen. There’s just nothing new, in spite of good writing, excellent execution, solid direction, and all-around good performances. It feels like getting served a plate of leftover spaghetti and meatballs.

Don’t get me wrong. I love spaghetti, even leftovers (as long as its warmed up). It’s what you pull out, throw in the microwave and eat when you don’t want to bother cooking. Olympus Has Fallen is the kind of film to throw on when you can’t be bothered spending ten minutes deciding if there's anything better to watch.

Rating: 5 of 10 old rotary phones

Pain Level: 3-4

Medication: 600 mg gabapentin

TO WATCH OLYMPUS HAS FALLEN ON NETFLIX, CLICK HERE

Butter: Comedy, 2012

Take one abnormal family (one part upwardly driven highly-competitive socialite woman, one part ordinary man with an unusual gift for carving dairy products, one part hormonally driven daughter), add one thin stripper/prostitute, a splash of used-car salesman sex appeal, and a pinch of adorable African-American young girl orphan. Churn like an upset stomach for 90 minutes. What do you get? Butter.

Butter is a delightfully average spread that milks a few laughs -- as long as you don’t sour on a story that struggles to knit two storylines into a whole. But in the end it feels more like half-and-half -- skimmed of any depth in favor with pat and forgettable writing that fails to rise to the top. Puns notwithstanding, this film is cute, earns a few well-deserved laughs, and is completely forgotten minutes later.

Butter spans a year between Iowa State Fairs. Bob Pickler is a legendary butter sculptor, having won the contest for 15 years straight and earned a gala dinner in his honor. His wife, Laura (Jennifer Garner) is one of the narrators, a driven woman who sees her husband’s fame and position as way to climb the social and political ladders. Their daughter, Kaitlin (Ashley Greene), shows up just long enough to provide a plot twist, and is as memorable as any of the Griswald children.

The second narrator is a young, orphan Destiny (the very cute but out-of-depth Yara Shajidi) who is black in the middle of whitest middle America. Her commentary on the “weirdness” of white people is a subtle, uncomfortably recurring theme in her narration, even when she is paired with charming foster parents, Ethan (Rob Corddry) and Jill (Alicia Silverstone, who still moves and acts like her awkward teen self of TV shows past), a very bland, but very caring, white-bread couple.

In the awkwardly told beginning, which is difficult to follow, Destiny finds herself biking to the fair, where Bob’s mostly-finished piece, a carving of the last supper, is nearly complete. She notices the unfinished chalice while Bob is away. Without any apparent motivation or emotional context, she walks in to the air-conditioned box and finishes the chalice.

Bob is quietly asked to stop competing so others might have a chance of winning. Although he accepts the idea, Laura has such a hard time with the idea of losing social status that Bob leaves in a quiet huff for the nearest strip club. Enter Brooke (Olivia Wilde), the stripper who Bob then enters in the back of his minivan. Somehow, Laura has come across this plot device, so she rams his car in serious coitus interruptus.

Bob’s cave-in to the judges, his tryst, and her own drive lead Laura to decide she will enter the competition herself. She leaves him icing his genitals with the kind of fail-safe banter that panders for a laugh, “Theres an advil in the kitchen for your penis.”

Like trying to read a whole highway sign in the middle of a fog, the story continues along without always making sense. In one side story, Brooke pursues Bob for the $600 he owes her, without any luck; but she has better luck later with daughter Kaitlin, who she seduces into giving her $1200. She turns right around to buy Destiny a set of first-rate knives. In another, Laura seduces her old high-school flame, used car salesman Boyd Bolton (played by a suave Hugh Jackman, who struggles a little with the accent), as both tit-for-tat with Bob, and also to employ his skills to sabotage the contest. And there is the competing story of Destiny and her new foster family, and the news that her biological mother had passed.

There is a semi-final that pits Laura against Destiny, a local ditzy friend Carol Anne (Kristen Schall), and Brooke, who enters to spite Bob. Boy’d comes out with accusations, and the validity of the outcome gets called into question. The solution – a second contest at the State fair between Destiny and Laura. In the end, subterfuge winds up being its own greatest enemy.

The story is difficult at times to follow, making the humor hollow. The writing is skillful enough to keep the laughs coming, but the jumbled storytelling lends little context. Having two narrators further complicates the matter, especially as they are prime competitors in this film. Without careful storytelling, it’s easy to lose track of which timeline or character’s perspective is being presented; and that happens too often

That’s not to say it’s not a fun film. It has its moments of both cute and silly, and is not a complete waste of time. It’s a quick 90 minutes and the R rating is surprising as the fare is really tame. But don’t try to think too hard about what’s happening. And five minutes after finishing, you will likely have already forgotten it and moved on.

Rating: 5 of 10 nicotine patches

Pain level: 3

Medication: 600mg gabapentin

TO ENJOY SOME BUTTER ON NETFLIX, CLICK HERE

Oldboy: Korean Action Thriller, 2003

Asian films are unique in comparison to Western films. The stories, the themes, the treatment of sexuality, obscenity, violence and other Western taboos often cross the line that the moral right, and censorship vessels such as the MPAA, have established. Few Asian films were ever widely distributed, with famed Japanese directors only getting play in art houses. Rumble in the Bronx and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, are the rare ones whose thematic and visual expression isn’t too offensive for American audiences.

The rest would slowly enter the American psyche through video and DVD rentals houses. Its no surprise that Quentin Tarantino, after his education of B-films and imports, would find inspiration in the unusual, violent stories and incorporate the styles into his own work. Reservoir Dogs takes a ten-minute section of the film City On Fire, and expands it into ninety minutes.

As a result, filmmakers often turn to such foreign influences when looking to create something “new” in terms of look, style, or influence, but rarely story. American remakes often fail, as the context of the storytelling is fundamentally different. One notable exception is Scorcese’s Departed, a direct remake of Infernal Affairs using Boston in place of Hong Kong.

The worst thing that could befall the South Korean thriller Old Boy is to have it remade as a sloppy, American film that takes license to “improve things that aint broke”. Spike Lee is about to release his take on a film that, although understandable within the context of Asian culture, might find difficulty reaching an American audience. What he has done remains to be seen, but I took it as a great reason to revisit this South Korean Classic.

Loosely based on a Japanese Manga (comic book), the film may be best known to American audiences as the "movie with the guy with a Hammer" who fights off a dozen assailants in a narrow hallway. The film, much like that iconic shot, draws style from its source, with a Manga-like texture in the photography and the violence .

Businessman Oh Dae-Su (Choi Min-sik) is kidnapped the night of his daughter’s birthday after spending hours in a police lockup as an unruly drunk. Just after being released, he is swiftly taken and locked up in a small apartment. During the 15 years of this unorthodox imprisonment, he loses his mind, is regularly gassed with hypnotic and sedative gasses, and, in spite of multiple attempts to take his own life, is stitched up and returned to his solitary existence.

During the early years, while watching television he learns that his wife was found murdered, and Oh Dae-Su was the prime suspect, with his (stolen) blood and fingerprints found at he scene. For the rest of his imprisonment, he vows to find out who killed his family, breaking his body against the cold, hard, cinderblock wall as he practices fighting.

After 15 years, he is drugged and hypnotized, waking up in a trunk on the grassy rooftop of a building, in new clothes and a wallet. Almost impulsively, he looks for a place to eat and remembers a sushi artist, Mi-do (Kang Hye-jun) from one of the televisions shows he followed during his imprisonment. In front of her, he receives a phone call from his tormentor, only to learn he is being surveilled as part of a “game.“ Angered, he makes an unusual sushi order, and does an even more unusual thing with it before passing out cold on the counter.

Nursed back to health as Mi-do’s charge, the two form an unlikely alliance between a man and a woman half his age. But together they slowly piece together his past, following the consistencies of his secret imprisonment to learn its whereabouts. Wielding a hammer, he visits his former prison, only learning he was held because he “talked too loosely'; he is forced to fight his way out in the earlier mentioned battle, notable for it's deliberate style and uncut camera through the entirety of the skirmish.

It is readily apparent that the mysterious tormentor has some means to put together such an elaborate plan. With Mi-do at his side, they work to discover the truth about the mysterious man. In time, he revels himself to Oh Dae-Su, with the cat-and-mouse reaching epic levels of gamesmanship.

This film is all about revenge. Oh Dae-Su is imprisoned and then released into a game as vengeance. He spends the film seeking his own vengeance upon his captor, only to learn, far too late, and far beyond redemption, that through his own search, an even worse vengeance was being meted out; one planned out meticulously for half a lifetime.

The intricacies of this convoluted plot come together in the end. There is a scene early during Oh Dae-Su’s imprisonment when he learned “when you cry, you cry alone. But when you laugh, the world laughs with you.” As the film’s last scene ends, it sure seems like he is trying his best to force a smile under Mi-do’s embrace.

This is, simply, a violent film, and not in the typical violence of an American thriller. It is not made for a western audience, but rather an Asian one with an appeal to those cultures. But the violence serves this story of revenge -- in this case for a thoughtless remark.

But wrapped within Old Boy's violence are brilliant plot twists, character-driven motivations, and nightmarish scenarios that might be too sophisticated, in some ways, for a broader audience. Its the well done combination of all these elements that make this one of the epic South Korean films, even if it is at times beyond the reason of an American film-goer. So it will be interesting to see how Spike Lee treats this material. In the meantime, check out Old Boy for some of the best filmmaking from the other side of the Pacific.

Rating: 7 of 10 Raw Octopii

Pain Level: 2-3

Medication: 200 mg gabapentin, 10 mg oxycodone

IF YOU DARE, WATCH OLDBOY ON NETFLIX BY CLICKING HERE

Apocalypse Now: Drama, 1970; with notes on Apocalypse Now Redux (2001) and Hearts of Darkness (1991)

As a note, I felt unsure whether to add this review, as Netflix listed Apocalypse Now as only available until the end of October. Since it was on for a limited time, it took me a while to come around and write something – I thought it unfair reviewing a film that was no longer there to share. But in the end, it was still part of this project.

There is little that can be said about Apocalypse Now that hasn’t already been repeated. It is unique amongst American films, an adaptation that took on a life of its own in a year-long blaze of frenetic, bipolar, fluid production in the Philippine Islands. That journey is well documented in Hearts of Darkness,a film where Eleanor Coppola, Francis Ford’s wife, spends 90 minutes telling the tale of a film that never should have been made for all the concertina-wire barriers in the way of its completion. The production suffered the trials of Job, complete with acts of god (a typhoon destroyed nearly the entire production), health problems (Martin Sheen suffered a heart attack early in the filming), drug abuse on the set, and the time-robbing eccentricities of the supporting cast.

Hearts of Darkness was a play on Joseph Conrad’s book “Heart of Darkness”, the novella that served as a loose framework for Apocalypse Now. During production, the film veered further and further from the original plan by necessity, distancing the two and giving the film a legacy all its own. Though both involve transit into the deep jungles where savagery is the norm, the film has a depth that seems to transcend anything put in print.

Apocalypse Now follows Captain Benjamin Willard, a Vietnam veteran who found life stateside to be too much, so he re-enlists. His first orders are to terminate, with extreme prejudice, the command of U.S. Colonel Walter Kurtz (played by Marlon Brando); the commander went rouge in Cambodia and began his own militia, becoming a thorn in the U.S. military’s side.

This mission puts Capt. Willard on a Navy PBR boat that meets up with the Ninth Cavalry, which airlifts the boat and crew to the mouth of the Nung River, and from there they enter Cambodia in search of Kurtz. By the time they find his camp, the number of the boat’s crew was violently reduced to three.

At the horrifying compound, Willard allows his capture, during which time Kurtz treats the Captain’s body as a prisoner, shackled and subjected to abuse; but his mind almost as a lover, courted with personal readings from the Colonel’s twisted philosophies, deeply held secrets whispered in his ear. At the same time, a crazed journalist played with psychedelic intensity by Dennis Hopper serves, strangely enough, as a thread of sanity amidst the surrounding carnage. His run-on ramblings help to smooth out an otherwise incongruous ending.

The reasons for his special treatment are never truly clear, and Willard finally takes advantage of circumstances to break free and complete his mission, to an unexpected reaction. Only him and the young surfer Lance (Sam Bottoms) survived, and together they leave on the PBR to return home. As the film goes black, we hear, once again, Colonel Kurtz’ final words: “Oh the horror, the horror.”

The visual presence of the film is pure genius, driven masterfully by Director of Photography Vittorio Storaro. Its richness, sadly, cannot be matched by the best television at the highest bandwidth. The Netflix version, seemingly mastered for streaming, still lacks the depth to see the details in the shadows, such as in a real theater or even in some top-notch blu-ray mastering. Even so, the iconic imagery cannot be ignored.

When the documentary was released, it revealed that large chunks of the original edit were cut – primarily to reduce the length from more than three hours. The resulting two-and-a-half hour film made it to the 1979 opening and became one of the most epic war films ever made. This newfound interest was likely the inspiration behind Apocalypse Now Redux, where most of that "lost" footage was restored.

Redux is a wonderful illustration on how good editing can make or break a film. An entire section that was removed happens in an aristocratic French plantation that is well-enough armed to be secure in a war zone. In this breath of civilization amongst the savage jungle, many questions are answered about the character of Captain Willard.

Coppola shot more than 200 hours of film, and at first seemed driven to include as much as he could. Redux, clocking in at nearly three and a half hours, is a gnarly beast to watch, and a true competitor for Ambien. But at the end, you realize what makes the original release version so remarkable was how Captain Willard remained a mystery throughout, in spite of being the storyteller.

Apocalypse Now is in Willard’s voice, which tells everything about the story but reveals nothing about the person. The audience is forced to watch events unfold through the eyes of an enigma, with no frame of reference other than his voice in narration. Sheen says very little on camera, but gives enough narration for an ambiguous context that leaves our own minds to fill in the blanks. Redux steals that mystery, giving Willard a context and a personality, mostly revealed during the 30-minute segment in the plantation’s chateaux. There, Willard and the residents argue philosophies of war and peace, and he speaks freely, revealing much about the man behind the gaze. He is now just a man, no longer an ideal, who eats, drinks, makes love and has feelings.

There are other telling edits that show the decisive path Coppola took when it came to turning Willard from a steely-while-working-yet-fun-and-passionate character, to a cold, passive observer through which we experience, in its entirety, the horrors of war. For instance, one scene in the boat was cut short for Apocalypse Now, otherwise it would have revealed Willard getting chummy with a few of the crew and cutting a big smile. The personality evisceration was a necessity. It transformed the movie from using the novella as way to explain the Vietnam war, to a greater story that tries to explain all war on a universal scale.

The edits made the film so strong and self-reliant that credits were unnecessary. By law, an intellectual property must have a title upon it; hence the graffiti that appears in white paint on a rock at the Kurtz compound, declaring “Apocalypse Now!”, a vision of Kurtz’ stated endorsement of nuclear weapons in conventional warfare.

Had Redux been released first, Apocalypse Now would be a mere footnote as one of the first major Hollywood films to deal with the Vietnam War, and Coppola would have lost the cache he earned with his two Godfather films (as well as a sizable amount of money). Instead, we are thankfully left to peer through Captain Willard’s eyes, which project the appearance of childlike innocence while hiding the cold and efficient killing machine within, but questioning it all.

Ratings: Apocalypse Now, 9 of 10 of the world's most awesome pizza pies
Apocalypse Now Redux, 3 of 10 pig knuckles
Hearts of Darkness, 7 of 10 aluminum ingots

Pain Level: 4

Medication: 100mg Lyrica, 20 mg oxycodone

TO WATCH APOCALYPSE NOW ON NETFLIX, CLICK HERE

TO WATCH APOCALYPSE NOW REDUX ON NETFLIX (and learn to hate a film you loved), CLICK HERE

Movie 43: Comedy, 2013

Movie 43.

Just see it, and expect to laugh at things absurd, obscene, and sophomorically triumphant. Movie 43 is the next movie to play when friends come over with plans to just get shitty and watch something on the TV. “Stupid goofy” is an apt description of this film that often crosses the boundaries of good taste, resulting in squeamish peals of laughter.

There is no success here, no spectacular win for comedy, but also no highbrow expectation; it was universally panned by critics who somehow imagined that a slapstick, R-rated comedy filled with A-list actors would not pander to scatological gags. It was, in fact, woven by a group of eclectic comedy directors into a patchwork quilt of amusing-to-hysterical ensemble performances, with scenes ranging from prurient to the grotesque.

The film spent 4 years in principal photography. On a shoestring budget of $6 million, and with top tier actors such as Will Sasso, Naomi Watts, Leiv Shreiber, Emma Stone, Gerard Butler (as a foul leprechaun), Bob Odenirk (who also directs two segments) and many more all working for scale, the time was required to work around the actors’ schedules.

The opening, and the glue holding all 13 vignettes together, features an aspiring screenwriter, Charlie Weesleras (Dennis Quaid), starting his pitch to producer Griffin Schraeder (Greg Kinneer). Each time Griffin cuts Charlie off, telling him that the idea wouldn’t work as a movie, Charlie immediately throws him a different scene made-up on the spot and played out in his head as a new sketch for the audience to enjoy. Eventually, their exchanges become violent until Charlie, who scammed his way in, takes hostages and tries to escape through the parking lot. And there, the plot itself ultimately fumbles to an end like a dead bondo-mobile abandoned behind a grocery story. But that doesn't stop another two sketches (one appearing after faux credits) from invoking a few more guffaws.

The skits, themselves, are a little bit on the hit-and-miss side, and tend to press the boundaries of good taste, but as long as the viewer is aware and prepared, they will have a fun time. Whether it’s Hugh Jackson playing a suave, handsome bachelor with a pair of testicles on his neck, or Kate Windslet reacting to this reveal on a blind date, the performances show off their under-appreciated comic ranges. Jackman’s interaction with his neck sells alone the moment, regardless of how silly or mortifying the humor can seem.

Other notable (if you can actually call them notable) performances include Richard Gere as the executive in charge with launching the iBabe, Jason Sudekis and Kristen Bell in sketch about speed-dating for superheroes, and the world’s most provocative “Truth or Dare” game between Stephen Merchant and Halle Berry.

This is not a comedy for the family. This is a comedy that some people probably won’t find all that amusing. But then there are the rest of the Netflix subscribers - folks who can take the film at face value and enjoy the goofy ride. So the next time the boys are over with a few 6-packs or 40’s, give Movie 43 a look-see. But expect little more than campy, stupid, offensive fun from this comedy.

Rating: 3 of 5 automatic can openers

Pain Level: 3

Medication: 600 mg gabapentin, 400 mg ibuprofen

TO LAUGH ALONG WITH MOVIE 43 ON NETFLIX, CLICK HERE