"Jackass 3D" Review

How does one review “Jackass 3D”? The tertiary installment in MTV’s prank and stunt franchise is basically immune to criticism because you get exactly what you pay for. Love it or hate it, “Jackass 3D” accomplishes just about everything it sets out to; in effect, Johnny Knoxville scores a goal on an empty net.

I am the anomaly, but I’d wager next to no one is ‘on the fence’ about whether or not they should see this film. They either contributed to the massive $50 million opening weekend box office cume, or they immediately dismissed it. In my case, however, having never seen the “Jackass” films wasn’t a conscious snub. Believe it or not, there just always seemed to be something better to watch.

But mine’s not a high horse. I sought out and watched “Jackass” and “Jackass: Number Two” the week prior to my first theater experience with the series, and I’m glad I did. After all, I grew up on “America’s Funniest Home Videos” and throughout high school religiously followed the English hidden camera show “Trigger Happy TV.” “Jackass” isn't as clever as the latter, but by measure of unbridled chutzpah, Knoxville and Co. are the reigning kings.

Like a Victorian freak show or museum of oddities, the often self-destructive experiments of the “Jackass” crew are the guilty pleasures of our generation. There’s something almost gladiatorial about watching the elaborate dangers these brave idiots subject themselves to. Man vs. bull, man vs. mule, man vs. man—our fascination with competition, spectacle, and injury is nothing new.

“Jackass 3D” being my first chance to observe others' response to these shenanigans, I was most amazed by the two-pronged reaction the audience had to the physical trauma the performers sustained. A given stunt would be executed, typically resulting in its participant doubling over in pain. The crowd laughed, as they’d been cued to. The film would then play back the moment in slow motion and suddenly everyone would groan or sharply inhale. Though we paid to laugh at people injuring themselves, what’s more interesting is our ability to empathize with the depiction of human pain. That the “Jackass” films achieve both is not an insignificant feat.

This isn't the definitive “Jackass” experience, however. Having watched all three films in the span of a single week, I did discern a distinct arc that left me somewhat letdown with Knoxville’s most recent effort. “Jackass: Number Two” improved upon the original with a more polished, professional look, and more elaborate and inventive stunts. It gave the genuine impression that the crew was pushing its boundaries and trumping itself wherever possible. That same sense of pioneering is largely missing from “Jackass 3D.” The glasses-gimmick seems to supplant genuine innovation in their routine, and on the whole it feels slapdash in comparison to the conceptual genius of its prequel.

But what survives in “Jackass 3D,” and what ultimately endeared me to the franchise is its creativity. Where it won me over was not in the painful payoff of each trick, but rather in the setup. The use of the camera to disorient, spotlight, and surprise is what really makes the series sing, and the trilogy is full of epiphanic moments of hilarity. “Jackass” has and always will be a potpourri of comedic elements, not all of which directly appeal to my specific sensibilities, but the variety is essential and the whole is somehow more than the sum of its parts.

I only wish “Jackass 3D” had more of the entrepreneurial spirit that so distinguished the second film. It may not be ambitious, but hey, a goal made on an empty net still counts.

3.5/5

"The Town" Review

Simple, focused, and perpetually entertaining, Ben Affleck’s “The Town” plays like the best Michael Mann film in years. It stands apart in the summer spectrum, maybe because the MO for action in 2010 seems to so heavily favor high concept; Affleck’s second directorial effort is like a breath of fresh air.

But how could he hope to score the fickle fanboys’ attention without the dream-spelunking of “Inception,” the gratuitous violence of “The Expendables,” or the retro gaming nostalgia of “Scott Pilgrim”? For one, he sidestepped those direct competitors by releasing his film on the very last Friday of the season. Second, he instilled the film with one vital element the other three lack: heart.

Sure, “Pilgrim” is a romance, but the relationships in “The Town” resonate on a deeper level. Affleck plays protagonist Doug MacRay, a brilliant bank robber who becomes romantically involved with one of his prior hostages against his better judgment. Claire (Rebecca Hall) recognizes neither his face (which was masked during the theft) nor his voice. The scenario makes for an inherently suspenseful courtship, playing our desire to see a ‘happily ever after’ against our knowledge that Doug cannot sustain his lie indefinitely.

Grounded by the simple, relatable contrast of Doug’s optimism for a brighter future and his dim present, “The Town” is free to alternate between elaborate heist sequences and intimate conversations. It works because Affleck understands what so few filmmakers seem to: that something real needs to be at stake for our characters. For Doug, it’s his relationship. For his buddy James Coughlin (Jeremy Renner), that risk is hard jail time; the character has already served nine years.

We care about these people, and it is for that reason the action sequences deliver. There may not be anything as impressive as in the final forty minutes of “Inception,” or as many explosions as “The Expendables” was packing, or even the creativity of “Scott Pilgrim,” but Affleck outshines them all with straight good storytelling and classic one-upmanship.

There are three heists in “The Town,” each more elaborate than the last. Costumes play a major role in all three, ranging from cliché (skeleton masks) to bizarre (nun habits) to ingenious (Boston police uniforms). In terms of suspense, Affleck expertly paces himself. The first heist leads to Doug’s involvement with Claire, whose relationship ups the stakes for a considerably messier second outing. It devolves into a citywide car chase with the police and FBI in hot pursuit. The tension is ratcheted even higher for the final heist, which takes place at a locale described as the “Cathedral of Boston” and concludes with the largest, most visceral action scene in the movie.

My gripes are few and far between. “The Town” does feel perhaps a little longer than it needs to, and the outcome of Doug’s last job and his relationship with Claire feels somewhat inauthentic by comparison to the pragmatic whole. Nevertheless, neither issue amounts to more than a minor grievance, and Affleck concludes the film on a beautiful, somber moment that emphasizes his strength as a director.

“The Town” is one of the most pleasant sleeper surprises of the year. Like Anton Corbijn’s “The American,” it offers a grown-up alternative to action, a compelling cast of characters, and confident filmmaking. That Ben Affleck, who was once a punchline in comparison to his accomplished buddy Matt Damon, has emerged so triumphantly as a director in the past three years is a development few if anyone saw coming. Both his vision for this film and his performance therein are incredible, and “The Town” is the best, most compelling action film of 2010.

Whatever project Affleck takes on next, his ability to perpetually entertain isn’t going to expire anytime soon.

4/5

"Red" Review

“Red” is bland. Jilting its vibrant namesake, director Robert Schwentke’s pallid comic book movie is about as exciting as a grayscale rainbow. It’s a self-celebratory slog and one of the longest hour and fifty minutes I’ve spent at the movies this year. In my defense, its trailer was a calculated work of CIA-level deception—each moment is expertly chosen to give false impression that the whole is mindless fun. But mindless fun is only half right.

There’s next to nothing to say about a film this unremittingly boring. I’d stop just short of calling it a failure, but the most incredible thing about “Red” is that such a lackluster script attracted such high-profile talent.

The cast, including Bruce Willis, Morgan Freeman, John Malkovich, Helen Mirren, and Mary Louis-Parker, along with Karl Urban, Brian Cox and Richard Dreyfuss, speaks for itself. That’s part of the problem. “Red” relies too heavily on big names to make the material pop rather than directly addressing the many problems with its confusing, amorphous screenplay. Surely it seemed like a pretty safe conclusion—I’m as surprised as anyone that a film this stacked could be so completely devoid of personality.

Then there’s the not-so-insignificant fact that our leading man is the most uninteresting person in the entire film. Black ops superhero Frank Moses never lives up to his reputation—pity Willis doesn’t supply his own. His character is meant to be a “romantic” at heart, but his relationship with dopey civilian Sarah Ross is just as unconvincing. Moses isn’t a compelling protagonist—and he’s shown up repeatedly. First by Malkovich as an LSD-warped CIA retiree, but also by Freeman, who is in the film for maybe a combined ten minutes.

I’m not gunning for Bruce, though. “Red” is an amalgam of creative failures in which his is the very least offensive. It was never going to be a great film given the inept writing of Jon and Erich Hoeber, though under Schwentke’s direction it isn’t even passable. He attempts to pawn "Red" off as disposable entertainment, but reneges on the ‘entertainment’ part. It's the type of movie that squeaks by on a slow weekend, but would have been justly ignored had it been released three months ago.

Even its music is egregious. Not since Soderbergh’s "The Informant!" has a film been so tonally altered through soundtrack and score. Composer Christophe Beck imbues each languid scene with a false sense of energy—be it bouncy, comedic accompaniment or nondescript action orchestral—but he fails to make a case for them. In fact, his music underscores the dichotomy between sound and sight; he makes us acutely aware of what we should be feeling, but aren’t.

Collectively, “Red” is one massive miscalculation: criminally overlong and underwhelming given the caliber of talent on hand. There’s no reason why this shouldn’t have offered the same breezy fun as “The Losers” and “Knight and Day” did earlier this year, flawed though they were. Schwentke attempts to mend a Humpty Dumpty script by infusing it with style and enunciating its humor, but the former comes off as gimmicky and the latter is a series of embarrassing air balls. Joke upon joke was met with stifling silence from the crowd.

"Red" is one of the most colorless films in recent memory. In it, the acronym ‘R-E-D’ stands for “Retired; Extremely Dangerous,” but I’ve come up with an abbreviation that far better describes the experience: “Reclining; Extremely Disappointed.”

2/5

FARCE/FILM Episode 66: Red, Jackass 3D

TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES!

We apologize for out-of-sync audio between 01:13 and 14:08. Feel free to fast forward. Paranormal Activity 2 won the weekend, Red stunk, and we're not that interesting anyway.

--> Episode 66: 10/24/10 <--

Hosts: Colin George, Brian Crawford, Kevin Mauer, Laura Rachfalski

Intro – 00:00

Top 5 – 01:07

Red (spoilers) – 03:58

Jackass 3D – 19:10

WMD – 55:25

(Quiz Show, Prom Night in Mississippi, Death Race 2000, The Town, My Son My Son What Have Ye Done, Breaking the Waves, Child’s Play, American Werewolf in London, Terminator 2, The Hustler, The Omen, Rashomon, Maderlay)

01:17:45 – Poll, E-mail and Outro

(Johnny Knoxville as an actor)

"Red"

Colin:
Kevin:
Crawford:
Laura:

"Jackass 3D"

Colin:
Kevin:

-- Weekly Discussion --

This week, our hosts wax intellectual in their discussion of Jackass 3D. Is Jackass art, performance art, entertainment, or worthless? Where do you draw the line?

"A Buddy Story" Review

I can’t even feign objectivity. “A Buddy Story,” formally “Buddy Gilbert Comes Alive,” formally “Buddy Goldstein Live” is a low-budget romantic comedy I served as a production assistant on in the fall of 2007. It was neither a pleasant nor entirely professional initiation to the world of feature film production, and now, three years later, after hearing rumors surface about reshoots in California, I sat down in Philadelphia to watch the film I helped in some small way to create.

Problem is, I couldn’t watch it the way I normally would. With each scene, I was fumbling for an accompanying memory, focused more on what was happening off camera than what was happening on. As such, take my impression that the film felt choppy and under-realized with a grain of salt. Apparently it worked for the meager crowd and even some of my fellow crewmates.

But my big problem with “Buddy” has nothing to do with its craft. From a creative standpoint, writer/director Marc Erlbaum fails to distinguish his characters and his story from the myriad of other indie films exactly like it. From the eye-rolling quirkiness of Buddy’s pet choice to the complete lack of dramatic risk, the film not only says nothing new—it says nothing old in a particularly interesting way.

The story is about struggling singer/songwriter Buddy Gilbert (Gavin Bellour) and his developing relationship with Susan (Elizabeth Moss), the wounded woman that lives across the hall. The two end up touring a blur of hick town bars, community centers, and retirement homes together, forming a bond in the process. Probably the greatest strength of the film is their easygoing chemistry.

Elizabeth Moss’ career has taken off since I worked with her. She was cast as the female lead in “Buddy,” just as the first season of “Mad Men” was airing, and largely because of its success, she has come into some very high profile gigs since—including the Apatow-produced “Get Him to the Greek” and the upcoming Lawrence Kasdan film, “Darling Companion.”

She is believable in “Buddy,” even when she has to work against the script. Bellour is slightly less so, but he too is making the best of a poorly written character. Erlbaum writes Buddy as an odd loner who, on the surface, sports an almost naïve childishness, but who underneath is dissatisfied with himself. The latter isn’t explored nearly as thoroughly as it should be, and as such, Buddy never quite comes across sympathetic. He, like all struggling artists, is waiting for his big break, but his moments of pessimism are so few and far between that we never buy the struggle.

The issue with this mediocre film is that there simply is nothing at stake. Nothing seems to depend on whether or not Buddy gets signed. He makes ends meet as is. Even in resorting to a telemarketing job, he seems happy; if it’s good enough for him, why should I care his dream is falling by the wayside?

Yet in my best impression of objectivity, I don’t think “A Buddy Story” is a worthless film, it’s just an unnecessary one. The music is a definite highlight, and though it doesn’t directly appeal to my taste, it works well within its context. My only question is whether the tunes are genuinely catchy, or if I’ve just heard them ad nauseam.

“A Buddy Story” just premiered, and as such does not yet have a distribution deal. God only knows when and if the opportunity will be made available for the public at large to see it, but frankly, they’re not missing much. Then again, what do I know? I'm just a disgruntled employee.

2.5/5

"Black Swan" Review

Darren Aronofsky’s “Black Swan” makes ballet cool—and if that isn’t a Herculean feat in itself, I don’t know what is. It also happens to be one of the best films of the year, featuring one of the best performances of the year. Natalie Portman will be nominated for her devastating portrayal of petite perfectionist Nina the ballerina or I’ll pull a Werner Herzog and eat my shoe.

“Black Swan” is cut from the same cloth as Aronofsky’s 2008 film “The Wrestler,” if at the opposite end. Interestingly, before either project was realized, the director was reportedly mulling a drama about the relationship between a professional wrestler and a ballerina. Somewhere along the way, however, that concept was split down the middle—and thank God. “Black Swan” is brilliant, but it wouldn’t necessarily play well with others.

Like its predecessor, the film examines a physically demanding and widely unappreciated art, and though thematically similar, the two complement each other via mutually exclusive cinematic vernaculars. “The Wrestler” is ultimately a safer film. Its emotional experience is directly conveyed via plot and dialogue. What Aronofsky attempts with “Black Swan” is riskier: he plays genre Frankenstein, taking established themes and transplanting them into that which feels initially least appropriate—horror.

Yet despite certain unmistakable cues, I’d hesitate to call “Black Swan” a horror film. Visually, maybe, but John Carpenter insists “The Thing” is a Western, and likewise there is more to “Black Swan” than is aesthetically obvious. It probably best fits the psychological thriller mold, but as Aronofsky suggests through his manipulation of mirrors, it is not a film that ever casts a clear reflection. For me, that dichotomy is what makes it so fascinating and rewarding.

“Black Swan” strikes an immediate haunting note that seems to grow louder with reverberation rather than quieter. In the first half, the director lays track work; in the second, he runs right off it. Nina begins her journey receiving the coveted role of the Swan Queen in a modernist production of Tchaikovsky’s “Swan Lake.” Her practiced technique makes her ideal for the role of the goodly White Swan, but her lascivious director (Vincent Cassel) has reservations about her ability to portray her evil twin, the titular Black Swan—a character that embodies instinct and lust. Nina’s process of unlearning takes her to increasingly dark, surreal depths.

The final act of the film comprises the most riveting 40 minutes I’ve seen on screen all year, though “Black Swan” is never the mindfuck some have improperly labeled it. Aronofsky deliberately builds atmosphere and anticipation toward a Kubrickian climax that is at once obvious and stunning. Tchaikovsky’s score falls like an aerial assault, and that inherent theatricality collides with Aronofsky’s narrative as they come to a dual boil.

Perhaps best of all, however, is that for all the audacity on display, the director knows when to dial it back as well. The casting of Mila Kunis (“Forgetting Sarah Marshall,” “That 70’s Show”) was idyllic. She plays a comic relief of sorts, with a comely, down-to-earth veneer but viperous eyes. Her performance is fantastically calculated—she provides derisive, but much needed perspective on Nina’s deteriorating sense of reality.

“Black Swan” is a wholly effective work born from the shadowy underside of the mind, anchored by a career-defining turn by Portman. It is a quick, impulsive piece, but it explains artistic devotion and the consuming nature of obsession as well or better than any film I’ve ever seen. In hindsight, it feels more characteristic of the filmmaker responsible for “Pi” and “Requiem for a Dream” than “The Wrestler,” though the parallels between it and “Black Swan” run deep.

They may be cut from the same cloth, but the difference between the two is as stark as black and white. Hail Aronofsky, the Swan King.

4.5/5

FARCE/FILM Episode 65: Philadelphia Film Fest Edition

--> Episode 65: 10/17/10 <--

Hosts: Colin George, Brian Crawford, Kevin Mauer, Jon Mauer, Laura Rachfalski, Micah Haun

Intro – 00:00

Top 5 – 01:30

A Buddy Story – 04:17

127 Hours (spoilers) – 19:23

Black Swan – 40:51

Kings of Pastry – 57:23

WMD – 01:06:59

(Undeclared, Teenage Paparazzo, Stripes, Teach, Before Sunrise, The Dark Crystal, World Trade Center, Picnic at Hanging Rock, The Fourth Kind, Trainspotting, Henry Fool)

E-mail and Outro – 01:37:49

(Do the personal lives of filmmakers affect your opinion of their works)

"A Buddy Story"

Colin:
Kevin:
Jon:
Laura:
Micah:

"127 Hours"

Colin:
Kevin:
Crawford:

"Black Swan"

Colin:
Kevin:

"Kings of Pastry"

Laura:
Crawford:

--Weekly Discussion--

This week, our hosts consider the objectivity of allowing the personal life of an artist to influence an evaluation of their work. Is that fair? Has your opinion of a film ever been changed by an external force?