Support Farce/Film's Films!

Hello everyone!

Today marks the opening for the online festival FirstGlance Hollywood, and Brian Crawford's "Jacob" is in the running! This festival has done a lot to prevent this kind of social-network voting, but if you'd like to help out, read on!

1 - As with any of these online festivals, you'll need to create a login (no e-mail confirmation needed though).
2 - You'll need to watch the whole film. While I recommend everyone to sit down and watch it as all of us here at Farce/Film have participated in its creation in one way or another, you can simply let the video play out in a separate tab if you're short on time, and when it is over vote (though you're more than welcome to watch it again if you'd like).
3 - You'll need to do this for two other films for your votes to count (that's a total of three, including "Jacob."

Anyway - I've browsed some of the shorts, and there are some pretty good films worth checking out when you have the time. Make a day of it! Or just vote and be done with it. Either way - have fun and thank you, thank you, thank you for your support!

FirstGlance Hollywood: http://firstglancefilms-contest.openfilm.com/

"She's Out of My League" Review

We both know "She's Out of My League" is a lame duck. The evidence is irrefutable based on the trailer alone. On the dystopian plane of teenage sex comedies, the product falls squarely in the hellacious center, with every shopworn semen gag and punch-out character archetype hitting their tired romcom marks in predictable sequence. It's bad. But there's one thing the movie has going for it that salvages the experience and carries it halfway to 'guilty pleasure' territory—star Jay Baruchel.

He almost seems to have teleported into "She's Out of My League" from some better film, with an authentically charming take on its prototypical loser protagonist, Kirk. In the interest of full disclosure, I admit I've had a thing for Baruchel ever since seeing him alongside the comedic heavyweights in "Tropic Thunder" two years ago, and here he somehow manages to sell a film otherwise inundated with dislikable and unfunny characters. He brings an accessibility to the role that made following him breezily palatable, even when by every other conceivable measure, I should have been apathetic and frustrated.

Kirk's friends are the worst offenders. They're not real people. We're talking about characters like "Stainer" (Stifler, anyone?), the arrogant, romantically successful one who turns out not to be all that romantically successful; Devon, a stocky married bloke whose single point of reference seems to be the work of Walt Disney; and last and least interestingly, Alice Eve as the "hard 10" love interest, Molly. The character is sold to the audience on her looks alone, presumably because there's nothing else remotely interesting about her. She's the personification of a plot device, and "She's Out of My League" wears its on its sleeve.

At least in the grand gross-out tradition, the film follows through on a few comedic premises that risk making the audience uncomfortable, which is more than I can say for something like "Hot Tub Time Machine," which has vulgarity to spare but wants too badly to be cool to even let its characters come off as situationally homosexual. A scene in "League" has Devon shaving Kirk's genitals in preparation for a hot date with Molly, which actually prompted a pick-up truck in the front row of the drive-in to turn the ignition and turn tail. In truth, the scene isn't particularly funny, but I do give it credit for taking that risk.

Or there's the climax of the film, which also momentarily jukes convention, making for one of the more legitimately amusing scenes. Beforehand, Kirk and Molly have had a falling out that leads him and his bitchy ex to reunite for a family vacation. On the plane, Kirk makes the obligatory eleventh hour decision to abandon the trip and his unsupportive family in a profanity-laced tirade. He turns to walk off—But it's too late. He quietly retakes his seat.

It's rare moments like those, along with the consistently relatable performance by Jay Baruchel, that kept "She's Out of My League" from getting on my nerves, even over the extent of the slightly bloated running time. It's a played story brimming with bad characters, but I make no apology for having had a decent time with it anyway.

The evidence is irrefutable, though on second thought, halfway to guilty pleasure ain't bad either.

2.5/5

"Clash of the Titans" Review

"Clash of the Titans" is an unusual film to remake for a modern audience. I mean, how familiar is Joe Moviegoer with the 1981 original or Greek mythology on the whole? The answer is 'Not very,' and the producers know it. They've taken broad steps to protect poor Joe from the alienating Grecian polytheism and comfort him with an immediately recognizable protagonist. To the layman, and in effect, for the layman, they've dumbed it down.

Sam Worthington is Perseus, which I guess is a big deal now that he's the star of the highest-grossing film of all time. And when you hire Sam Worthington, you get Sam Worthington. The '81 Perseus is aloof, oddly lackadaisical, with shoulder-length hair and a caring, inquisitive disposition. Worthington's Perseus is a buzzcut graduate of the Christian Bale/Batman school of acting. His dialogue is gruff, brief, and introverted, because coolness now is apparently inversely proportional to vocabulary and elocution. It speaks to a certain extent about the types of characters we hold up as heroes in our current social climate, but more so, it's a simple example of commercial viability over storytelling practicality. Worthington as Perseus is a carefully calculated business move, and the streamlining of his character is indicative of director Louis Leterrier's greater neutering of the myth for 13-year-old boys. After all, if there's one thing less cool than masculine eloquence, it's ancient culture.

Damn the gods indeed. 2010's "Titans" retells Perseus’ story through a decidedly Christian lens. Mount Olympus has been downsized, and Zeus (Liam Neeson) and Hades (Ralph Fiennes) essentially become surrogates for God and the devil. Most of the roles fulfilled by other gods in the original film have been reassigned to these two to keep things simple, which would be fine if they were interesting characters. Instead, a hunchbacked Fiennes rasps ominously at his brother, and Neeson sucks all ambiguity out of the king of the gods. It's worth noting that the original is far from a masterpiece, but the insecurities and petty vengeances of Zeus and his kin are among the more entertaining ideas it puts forth. The remake drops most of these characters and fits Zeus with a stoic (re: boring) gravitas, and a ridiculous set of digitally glistening armor.

And I can complain until I'm blue in the face about the intellectual inadequacies of "Clash of the Titans," but it's surface level mistakes like bad costumes and poor action choreography that really kills the film. The '81 version is defined by its special effects and set-pieces, and the best we can do in 2010 is CG monsters and post-production 3D? The remake is everything an effects-heavy film shouldn't be: sweeping and grandiose at the expense of intimacy. I don't care how many scorpions you render or how big you've made the Kraken when I don't even understand the decisions your protagonist is making.

But it's not like the remake ruins a classic or anything. The original has its share of problems, and one of the things the 2010 film does right is to kick the pacing in the pants where it needs to, leaving fewer sedentary dry spells than its predecessor. Regardless, I still hold the '81 version in higher regard because of its faithfulness in depicting the pantheon of the Grecian gods, and the charm and personality of its effects. The mythology is all "Clash of the Titans" circa 2010 has to distinguish itself by, and it downplays that difference instead of embracing it. Splash bland action and unimpressive effects on that cinematic identity crisis, and even Joe Moviegoer will agree you've failed.

2/5

FARCE/FILM Episode 39: Clash of the Titans, She's Out of My League

--> Episode 39: 04/03/10 <--

Hosts: Colin George, Sonic Kim, Brian Crawford, Suman Allakki, Max Cooke

Intro – 00:00

Top 5 – 03:11

Clash of the Titans (dual review) – 04:18

She’s Out of My League – 29:28

Weekend Movie Round-Up – 42:14

(How to Tame Your Dragon, House of the Devil, Alice in Wonderland, The Endless Summer)

Events and Outro – 54:13

"Clash of the Titans" (1981)

Colin:
Sonic:
Max:

"Clash of the Titans" (2010)

Max:
Colin:
Suman:
Crawford:
Sonic:

"She's Out of My League"

Colin:
Crawford:
Suman:
Sonic:

-- Weekly Discussion Question --

In "She's Out of My League", Jay Baruchel plays a lovable loser. Who are your favorite cinematic losers?

-- -- e-mail us your thoughts at farcefilm@gmail.com -- --

"How to Train Your Dragon" Review

Dreamworks has been getting better, haven't they? Overall? They've certainly learned from Pixar that a little bit of heart goes a long way in animated children's filmmaking. Unfortunately, a little bit of heart is all you really get in their latest, the Norse coming of age comedy, "How to Train Your Dragon."

The film is split into two tonally distinct sections: an intimate and charming boy-and-his-dragon friendship fable, and an exceptionally dull gladiatorial adventure film. It seems like nearly half of the running time is swallowed by a series of dragon defense training sequences with our hero, Hiccup (Jay Baruchel), wowing a gaggle of cartoon stereotypes with his ability to tame the ferocious beasts without violence. There's seriously so many of these scenes that I keep thinking the name of the movie is "How to Tame Your Dragon."

The arena stuff doesn't do much to carry the plot; it just sort of peripherally shows the practical application of learning the softer side of dragons. And because the plot isn't really being advanced (the young Vikings are being trained while most of their village is out searching for a dragon hive), gags substitute for story, and wit is not the film's strong suit. Honestly, most of the characters feel shamelessly yanked from an animated who's who of the last decade. You've got the bickering siblings from "The Incredibles," a protagonist not unlike Linguine of "Ratatouille" fame, and a couple of Shreks thrown in for good measure (or maybe that's just the Scottish accent). The supporting cast ultimately dilutes the simple maturity of film's central friendship, and sucks "Dragon" dangerously near the "Shark Tale" sinkhole.

It's sort of like "Up" and the talking dogs. When you have something powerful, stick with it. Not every animated film has to be a 3D action/effects spectacle. Maybe this is a little greedy, but I'm not interested in going timeshare on "How to Train Your Dragon." Give me "Old Yeller" or give me "Beverly Hills Chihuahua."

Fortunately, it's more the former than the latter. As kids films go, you could do a lot worse, but the divide that makes Pixar Pixar and Dreamworks Dreamworks is still firmly inset in "Dragon's" design philosophy. Pixar transcends the idea of making children's films, where Dreamworks embraces it, and while that's terrific for the target demographic, I don't think mom and dad are going to have as good a time as they did watching "Finding Nemo" or "Monster's Inc."

But Dreamworks is getting better at keeping the whole family entertained, and "How to Train Your Dragon" is among the very highest echelon of the studio's animated work, which probably partly accounts for its overwhelming praise via Rotten Tomatoes. Objectively however, it doesn't quite know who it's trying to please, and settles for a 'some of the people, some of the time' scenario that left me intermittently yawning. At its heart, there's a timeless companionship—It just sometimes gets lost in favor of disposable entertainment.

And that may be a backhanded compliment, but it's a complement nonetheless. "How to Train Your Dragon" is entertaining and sometimes touching, but doesn't quite overcome its kiddie stigmata, and the ADD child in me has already moved on.

3/5

"Greenberg" Review

This would actually make a great companion review for "City Island," because both films live or die by their characters, and especially in comparison, Noah Baumbach's "Greenberg" has great ones. As a Ben Stiller fan, I'll admit upfront he does carry a certain stigma of silliness that made me wonder if he was right for the role, but I was pleasantly surprised by how ill-founded my fears turned out to be. Stiller's understated take on the narcissistic title character is perfect.

And it's a performance that fits the film snugly; both are quiet, real, and subtly funny. Greenberg, first name Roger, is a New York carpenter by trade who, after a vague nervous breakdown before the film's outset, spends a few weeks house-sitting for his brother in their Californian hometown. He takes the opportunity to reach for old friendships, muse on the band he once broke up, and stab at a relationship with his brother’s self-deprecating assistant (Greta Gerwig), all with a pronounced anti-sociality. Stiller plays Greenberg as a misanthropic Larry David type that will likely divide audiences.

Of course, you won't get as much out of the film if you hate his guts, but I think Baumbach does an admirable job of playing Greenberg down the middle. If he comes off dislikable, he's intentionally so, and if we find his overinflated ego and communicative hang-ups even slightly endearing, it makes the film's reserved climax that much more meaningful. Mind you, the character doesn't undergo a profound, hundred and eighty degree change over the course of the film, which again may leave some cold, but it lends "Greenberg" an uncommon authenticity.

Mostly, Stiller's character just passes blame, misdirects criticism, picks at wounds, and proudly proclaims his life choice "to do nothing for a while," content to ignore his immaturity as even his one-time slacker buddies become career men and parents. Aging is the film's central theme, and Greenberg is caught in a time warp. His rash decision-making and selective memory later leads to an awkward date with an ex, and a college party he simultaneously participates in and ridicules. It's pathetic, and you'll either appreciate that irony or find him intolerable.

If I have a complaint, it's that the film is sometimes too much like the character: aimless and distant, though never for very long. It's tough to justify even a mild boredom, but I think the story probably benefits from the occasionally itchy sedentary scene; for better or worse, it wrings us closer to the idea of Greenberg, and underscores the juxtaposition of his impulsiveness in the third act. It may not make for the most exhilarating cinema, but it's hard for me to shake the notion that "Greenberg" is exactly the film it's supposed to be. It's pretty straightforward, and there doesn't feel like very much room for debate beyond a gut reaction.

Like I said, it lives and dies by its characters, and they'll either resonate for you or they won't. For me they absolutely do, and although there are probably a hundred films like it, Baumbach finds a way to make "Greenberg" feel fresh, significant, and genuinely funny, which is more than I can say for any of the year's purported "comedies." You know what, never mind "City Island," maybe this is the film you should see instead of "Hot Tub Time Machine."

4/5

"City Island" Review

I don't think competent indie directors are in any short supply; what worries me is the state of "independent" screenwriting. Where are the passion projects? Where are the radically unconventional and anti-commercial controversy-magnets? Narratively and comedically, we can do better than "City Island."

See, the time has long since passed that art house filmmaking was about getting big ideas on the big screen. Maybe as consumers, that business model has lost its value given that weird, offbeat, and counter-mainstream content is readily available on home video or at the push of a button. Now, especially for the little guy, it's all about inking a distribution deal, which means independent films have a few looming successes over their head. If you want to generate studio interest in an independently financed project, buzz films like "Little Miss Sunshine" and "Juno" are exactly who you want to be compared to. The movie businessmen factor those comparisons in heavily when formulating their equation for the bankability of your indie.

For filmmakers, this seems to mean that "Little Miss Sunshine" and the like are to be used as roadmaps in writing their films, with readymade archetypes to be pilfered for maximum profitability. You can't tell me year after year that filmmakers are just burning to tell the story of their quirky, dysfunctional families—It's just an insofar successful business model, and I'm tired of it.

The exact reason I go to the art house is to see filmmakers take risks that Hollywood wouldn't, and when you take that dynamic away, you're left with bland, marginally distinct stories that have little to no reason to be told. What's going on in "City Island" works, to an extent, from a directorial standpoint, a visual standpoint, and a performance standpoint—but from a screenwriting standpoint, you should be able to generate a compelling list of reasons why someone would want to sit through your movie. If "Andy Garcia" and "Alan Arkin" make your top three, your story probably needs work.

"City Island's" story is about as complex as your average half-hour sitcom. The Rizzo family's inability to communicate leads to 'comic' situations and misunderstandings, like Garcia's patriarch keeping the profile of an adulterer so he can take acting classes, his college daughter's soon to be not-so-secret strip gig, or his smart-aleck son's fetish for plus-sized women. Their vices are so pedestrian that I couldn't possibly care how they work them out.

The dialogue isn't any better. It's often considered tacky when the title of a film is spoken aloud, and "City Island" devotes an entire monologue to it—And if even Emily Mortimer can't sell it, you're looking at a rewrite situation. "City Island," she says. "The two words stand in stark contrast to each other," and proceeds to explain exactly how. For God's sake, really? You think I don't naturally comprehend the ironic dichotomy of the title? I hate to be the one to have to tell you this, but it's not clever. It's indulgent and condescending.

But I'm being a little harsh. There's nothing especially wrong with "City Island" other than that it's creatively defunct. If you haven't seen a dozen movies like it, maybe it comes across as charming. For me though, Raymond De Felitta's film feels calculated where it should feel human. The Rizzos don't feel like four real people, they feel like salesmen hawking their artificial lives directly to a studio whose definition of "independent comedy" is as rigid as "horror" or "western."

Thanks but no thanks, I'm not buying.

2/5