Lakeview Terrace

As Printed in The Lumberjack

by Gary Sundt

Lakeview Terrace is a lackluster film about very real topics. Samuel Jackson plays Abel Turner, a conservative police officer who has some real hatred for white people (and possibly anyone that isn’t Abel). Accordingly, he finds himself stuck with an interracial couple as his new neighbors. The couple is deeply in love, has sex in their new pool such that all the neighbors (including his children) can see, and is made up of a white man and a black woman. What is a bigoted police officer to do? What would you do if all your morals were questioned? Wage ware with your neighbors, that’s what.

I take this stance because the movie doesn’t have one, and most everyone else is going to see it differently. But I want to find a way to sympathize with Abel Turner and his plight of intolerance. I mean, his male neighbor, Chris Mattson (Patrick Wilson) is just so damn… white. And his wife Lisa (Kerry Washington) is just so damn…sexy. I mean, WTF man? Seems reasonable to shine porch lights into their window, watch everything they do and use ignorant platitudes to intimidate them. When those actions don’t yield the desired effect, best to take it up a notch on the crazy-neighbor scale.

Of course I’m looking at this all wrong. Abel is the bad guy and the couple is the victims. It’s like a horror movie where the couple has sex and then they have to be chased and murdered (attempted, anyway). Jason Voorhees is wearing a Mace Windu mask. The film begs the question, “Which is more racist: to have a black villain or a white villain?” The movie has this question knocking at the door, but I don’t feel much like answering. Not because I don’t like the topic, but because I don’t feel this film has earned my thoughts on the matter.

Lakeview Terrace is a remarkably manipulative film. It has its inherent controversy, and wants to push the envelope just enough to make you a little queasy. Director Neil LaBute, who loves making movies about mean people, takes a very real joy in making his audience uncomfortable with every scene. You leave the theater feeling dirty, which wouldn’t be so bad if the movie were good.

For instance, take practically every line of dialogue that comes out of Jackson’s mouth. His character says things that are so overtly ignorant that no modern-thinking person could stop themselves from being offended. But curiously, we aren’t all that offended because most of these statements ring false.

These boorish pieces of dialogue are lines tailor-made for a trailer. This sentiment goes for almost every interaction in the film. At no point is Lakeview Terrace unmarketable, because of how its shot, how its written and how its edited. The advertisers could have taken almost any moment in Jackson’s performance and built the marketing campaign around it.

At one point, Chris asks Abel, “Can’t we all just get along?” I think that could have been a profound question 30 years ago. Today, with our ever-flattening world, it sounds trite. I felt the same way, to a lesser degree, when the ending came to the 2006’s Academy Award winner for Best Picture, Crash. It’s this very Hollywood creation, where playing it safe while pulling at the heart-strings will encourage the intended reaction from the audience. There are movies that pull this off well in regards to race issues, like American History X or Do the Right Thing. But they succeed by treating the audience like adults, presenting the issues and letting us make up our minds (even if they are subtly pointing us in the right direction).

Hattie McDaniel, who won an Oscar for Best Supporting Actress for Gone With the Wind, once said, “Hell, I’d rather play a maid than be one.” While this may be an appropriate sentiment for a black woman in the 1940s, films themselves should never function in this way. Unfortunately, we find that movies on controversial topics are still being made with that same logic. Films like Lakeview Terrace bother me because they have the potential to say something. But I guess it’s easier to play the hard-hitting film than be it.

Note: The film’s title, Lakeview Terrace, works both as the name of the character’s neighborhood and as a reference to the neighborhood where Rodney King was arrested and beaten. After the film, I felt this reference was rather hollow, considering the film had very little to say.

Burn After Reading

Brad Pitt holds a CD in Burn After Reading

by Gary Sundt

As printed in The Lumberjack on September 18, 2008

The “right way” to make a movie changes depending on who you ask. Some people like the big special effects, others like the silly little romances. I’m a pretty equal-opportunity guy when it comes to stories, so long as there are good characters to back it all up. Regardless of a plot, my favorite films tend to be those about good, sharply-drawn characters, which is the reason I loved me some Burn After Reading, the new film by the Coen Brothers.

The directing duo, hot off their Oscar-winning film No Country for Old Men, is doing what they always do after they make an art picture. After Blood Simple came Raising Arizona, after Fargo came The Big Lebowski. Make the art film, then do the silly film. Make No Country for Old Men, then do Burn After Reading. The film is a biting satire that celebrates the stupidity of a U.S. intelligence agency. Or maybe it’s just a silly movie about silly people. Whatever the case, I laughed rather heartily. 

The plot is a tad long-winded, but because this is really a film about characters, I feel attempting to describe the plot would be detrimental to this review. However, I will do my best to set the scene for you.

To put it in simple terms: a CIA analyst, Osborne Cox (John Malkovich), is fired for being an alcoholic. He decides to write a memoir. His musings are burned onto a CD with a bunch of financial information. Then his wife Katie (Tilda Swinton) copies the files to assist her in her divorce case. Her attorney’s secretary drops her copy of the files in a gym locker room, which is discovered by Chad (Brad Pitt) and Linda (Frances McDormand). They figure out that the data belongs to Osborne, and accordingly try to collect a reward (or ransom, as the case may be). Oh, and Katie is having an affair with Harry (George Clooney), who is also seeing Linda. 

The film is rather convoluted, so the directors offer the audience insight into the plot’s madness via two CIA agents — Cox’s former boss (David Rasche) and his superior (the invaluable J.K. Simmons). They struggle to make sense of the entire affair, with little success. At one point, the officer tells his boss, “We don’t really know what’s happening, but they all appear to be sleeping with each other.” I couldn’t have said it better myself.

The Coens find a certain joy in exploring the lives of stupid people. However, the difference between Burn After Reading and their other comedies is the seemingly cartoon-like way the actors carry themselves. They are put to the task to make faces as surprised as Daffy Duck or as conniving as Bugs Bunny. The directors love making Clooney look like an idiot (which I think helps him stay modest as an actor), and have just as much fun doing it to everyone else in the cast. Osborne states at one point, “You’re part of a league of morons.” And so it is.

I think the directors have found a glorious new moron in Pitt, who gets to play in a way we haven’t really seen him play before. I have always maintained that he is the rarity in Hollywood — the pretty boy that actually had talent, the infrequent heartthrob who, for those of us who don’t care just how good-looking he is, is actually worth watching. Pitt gets to tap into the hilarious idiot I have often suspected was hiding in the back of his mind, but does so in a way that doesn’t betray his real skills as an actor. Everybody in the cast is pretty solid, but it’s the zany behavior of Pitt’s gym employee, with his iPod plugs and bike helmet, that carries this film not to a place of greatness, but more appropriate goodness.

Pitt’s performance also works to distract the audience from the glaring problems with Burn After Reading. The movie has some major pacing issues, where the film languishes in its lack of plot. It’s a movie about characters, and it seems appropriate that pointlessness takes over. The Coens don’t let the slowness happen for very long, and make the common Coen decision to use sudden moments of violence to punch things up. I am not offended by violence and am a self-proclaimed whore for good dialogue, which is almost always assured in a movie by the Coen Brothers. However, I imagine some viewers walking away either grossed-out by the bloodshed or irritated that the film wasn’t about something more than stupid people.

Assured with a Coen film, even the occasional lackluster ones, is the always-outstanding cinematography. Here they employ Emmanuel Lubezki, who was nominated for an Oscar (and should have won) for his work in the remarkable 2006 film Children of Men. His shots here perfectly complement the performances and go right with the driving score by Carter Burwell, who has collaborated with the Coens since their first film, Blood Simple. 

Burn After Reading cuts-off right around the 90-minute mark, and it all seems rather sudden. When my friends and I left the theater, one of them was flat-out surprised by how abrupt the whole thing seemed. I can see what she means, but I think it comes at the right moment. The Coens have learned by now when they are overstaying their welcome, especially when they are making a movie about characters and not plot. 

This is not a perfect film by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s certainly worth watching. I think the way to enjoy Burn After Reading is to not take any moment too seriously. The film is a farce about stupid people doing stupid things. Near the end, the CIA head asks his subordinate, “What did we learn here?” The subordinate says he doesn’t know. 

The CIA head responds, “Yeah, I don’t (expletive)ing know either.” And there is nothing to learn in Burn After Reading, nothing to take away. But it’s a whole lot of fun.

Bangkok Dangerous

Nicolas Cage and Shahkrit Yamnarm sit in a boat in Bangkok Dangerous

by Gary Sundt

As Printed in The Lumberjack on September 11, 2008

Bangkok Dangerous is a movie about Nicolas Cage’s ability to brood, look off camera dramatically and act the same way he does in most other films. The plot of this flick revolves around a hitman who travels to Thailand for his last job.

Nothing too original with this premise, but it is directed by the Pang Brothers, a pair of twins from Hong Kong who have made a solid name for themselves in the Asian film market. Bangkok Dangerous is a remake of the same film they made in 1999. Why remake a movie less than 10 years after its release? Why do it with Cage? These are a few of the many questions I asked myself while I watched this so called “action movie.”

MSN Encarta (an online dictionary) defines the “action movie” as a “movie featuring mainly action … in which the plot moves quickly from one dramatic event to another … Character development and love interest are of secondary or no importance.” By this definition, I suppose Bangkok Dangerous can be considered an action movie.

But is it really? I was bored in Bangkok Dangerous, sitting in the dark for nearly two hours (trailers included) waiting for — not even a good film — an interesting film to develop. Watching it is like flipping to the movies that play on network television Saturday afternoons. You could miss 10 minutes while you emptied the dishwasher and it probably wouldn’t matter. These are usually bad movies that we turn on for some white noise. Because we like white noise, and bad movies need to go somewhere to die.

I have not discussed the plot of the movie much, and for that I apologize. As I said before, Cage is Joe, an assassin on his last hit. When he goes on his missions, he always finds a struggling local to employ as his errand boy (they always get killed afterward). He has rules he lives by, like don’t connect with people, don’t get caught, etc., etc., whatnot.

But surprise! This being his last mission, he’s inexplicably breaking his rules. Joe doesn’t want to kill Kong (Shahkrit Yamnarm), his errand boy, but instead decides to become his Yoda. He falls in love with a deaf clerk (Panward Hemmanee) at a Walgreens-type establishment (more on that to come). And then he starts to get emotional about who he assassinates, the biggest no-no one could commit in the killing-people-for-money business.

This is all stuff we’ve seen and heard before. That strikes me as odd. The script was written by Jason Richman, based on the 1999 version written by the Pang Brothers. The plot of the original centered around a deaf hitman and his rise in the criminal underworld.That’s an interesting idea, and it in turn made a good movie.

This remake, on the other hand, is as hohum as the original is bombastic and exciting. It adheres to the cliches of American action cinema, and that is not a compliment. Why remake a movie and take away everything that made it worth remaking in the first place? Do the Pang Brothers think we can’t take complexity? We made The Dark Knight for Christ’s sake.

Now, in an action movie, directed by two respected action directors, we would expect at least the parts involving guns and explosions and kung fu to be good. Even if the movie is awful, there should at least be something interesting to look at. Not so in Bangkok Dangerous. The scenes have all the ingredients for a good rumble, but it all turns out generic. Snore-inducingly generic. Seriously, I almost fell asleep.

These scenes are choreographed and shot as though there was a how-to guide sitting next to the camera. The Pang Brothers are highly-respected overseas, but their first state-side endeavor is simply dull. And action movies, above all things, should never be dull.

I said I would come back to the deaf girl, and so I am. Her name is Aom, which apparently means “rain.” (The scene in which this is explained involves hilarious hand motions that made that entire audience come together in an unintended chuckle.)

Her name and hearing impairment is all I know about her, and that’s all Joe knows about her too. I guess he’s in love though. Most of the characters in Bangkok Dangerous are ill-defined, but few others are as one-dimensional as this love interest. I know love is supposed to be of secondary importance here, but why does she need to exist? She isn’t even involved in the climax, which is traditionally where seemingly useless characters take on some depth. My theory: the script wasn’t quite long enough for a feature film, so they added her to fill some running time. Like I said — white noise.

I’m not even sure I enjoyed watching Bangkok Dangerous on a primal level (because I just like watching movies). At one point, I think I stopped concentrating on what I was watching and started thinking about other things, like what I was going to have for dinner afterward, or if I had brushed my teeth last night. My chief concern was that I needed to watch a good movie immediately following the credits, a film where something happened.

Interestingly enough, I did eventually get home and watch something more riveting. I watched Oliver Stone’s terrific 1995 film Nixon, starring Anthony Hopkins. That movie has no action, explosions or sex in its entire running time. It’s a political drama where people talk for nearly three and half hours. And, even though I’ve watched the film some 15 times, I was more engaged throughout than in any single second of Bangkok Dangerous.

Babylon A.D.

Vin Diesel and Gérard Depardieu look at some futuristic gadget in Babylon A.D. (pay special attention to background hookers to prove Depardieu’s pimp status)

As Printed in The Lumberjack on September 4, 2008

by Gary Sundt

I walked into the movie theater tonight knowing two things: 1) four new movies were coming out, and 2) three of the four were going to be pretty terrible. The one film that had a glimmer of hope to it, the Don Cheadle thriller Traitor, was going to be that which nobody was going to see. Accordingly, I chose what I assumed would be the least painful. I chose Babylon A.D. It stars Vin Diesel.

Let me explain my reasoning here. Vin Diesel has talent. I know it’s in there somewhere. He was great in Pitch Black, and the saving grace of Find Me Guilty. Perhaps charismatic is the wrong word, but there is within him the ability to do good work. Also, the other two choices, College and Disaster Movie, were almost certainly going to be vomit-inducing affairs, thus Babylon A.D. it was.

So there I was watching Babylon A.D. The flick starts off by spouting the same droll monologue we’ve seen in the trailers, with the same imagery to boot. Then we cut to Toorop (Diesel) walking through a Russian village to some bombastic rap song, pimping a raincoat like it was the new black. Then some action happens (it doesn’t really matter), and the audience is subsequently riddled with videogame-level dialogue that explains some mercenary mission involving getting a girl to the United States.

So Toorop goes to pick up the girl. Her name is Aurora, and she lives in a convent, and Sister Rebeka (Michelle Yeoh) is her guardian. After a bit of obligatory discourse between the mercenary and the sister that confirms Toorop’s abrasive mannerisms, we meet Aurora (Melanie Thierry). It’s the kind of introduction where time slows down, with a faint singing of choirgirls. The type of introduction that insists impending doom. But we’ll get to that later.

Wait – let’s get to the doom now. Aurora has apparently never been outside the convent, and so the brutality of the world is a bit jarring. She freaks out. She runs away. Toorop and Sister Reb go after her. Then a building blows up. Aurora knew it was going to happen. What’s the deal? Is there mystical hoopajoop afoot?

Maybe, maybe not. I think I can safely say I had no idea what was happening after this point in the story. And believe me, I tried. I really tried. It is my job as a film critic to try. But there’s nothing here. Babylon A.D. is nothing but empty dialogue and random action sequences accompanied by an overbearing soundtrack.

Director Matthew Kassovitz has obviously watched his fair share of science fiction, in particular Blade Runner and The Fifth Element. The action sequences, however orthodox, are directed with some skill. The alternate future he has created is visually all encompassing; I especially liked the apartment they visit in the flick’s third act, with its rotating door-walls and television that can’t be turned off (you can change the channel).

The failure here is really the script by Eric Besnard. He has watched the same movies as Kassovitz, but he has also played a lot of videogames. The dialogue here could be ripped right from Grand Theft Auto III, and the plot developments are about as motivated as when Bowser would steal Peach at the end of every fourth-level in NES’s Super Mario Bros. It’s a first draft that was given a budget, which is a crime all-too-common in today’s rush of quick-dollar movie making.

Accordingly, the actors go into default mode. Diesel grunts his manly man grunt, because what’s an action star to do without a script? Yeoh goes into commander mode, her go-to acting method when she’s just doing it for a paycheck. And while Thierry is a relatively new face, her character is required to scream and cry – the same motivations that child actors are delegated. The film’s biggest challenge is to milk tears out of Diesel, to no avail I might add. How can a man cry when he has no real motivation? Not everybody is Ben Affleck.

Whether Babylon A.D. is the kind of bad that is quoted for eternity is hard to say. I will admit to having found my own perverse joy in shouting “WHAT IS WRONG WITH HER?!?” for the last few days. But I don’t think that’s the fate of this sci-fi cinematic blunder. No, save the possibility of cult status, this one is doomed to sit in the $1.99 bin at Walgreens. It’s a fate probably shared by Disaster Movie, College and Traitor.

Running time: 90 minutes. Directed by Matthew Kassovitz. Produced by Kassovitz and Alain Goldman. Written by Eric Besnard. Starring Vin Diesel, Michelle Yeoh, Melanie Thierry, Gerard Depardieu and Charlotte Rampling. A Twentieth Century Fox release. Rated PG-13