Life Itself
2014, 115 mins
Rated R
A

by Cole Stratton (@colestratton)

“I had a colonoscopy once, and they let me watch it on TV. It was more entertaining than The Brown Bunny.” — Roger Ebert

As a life-long film lover, Roger Ebert was a major influence on me growing up. His infectious enthusiasm for film inspired me to write and talk about movies from an early age; while my peers had posters of Ken Griffey Jr. and Ricky Henderson gracing their walls, I papered mine with hand-me-downs from a nearby video store — I was probably the only ten year old with one-sheets from films like Get Shorty, Nadine, A Fish Called Wanda and Lost in America and giant cardboard standees for Broadcast News, Willow and Dirty Dancing. I wrote a review of The Lost Boys and submitted it to The Werehouse’s in-store video magazine when I was 14; it was published and I received a Pirates of Dark Water kite for my trouble, much to my chagrin (I really wanted an MGM sweatshirt and mug, which was an example prize). During high school, I interned at my town’s primary paper The Davis Enterprise, eventually coordinating a bi-weekly page called Youth Beat in which I chronicled exceptional local teens and reviewed films. I came at my subject matter the same way I imagined Ebert did; from a place of pure affection and joy for the medium that had filled countless hours of my formative years. Since then, I’ve often fallen down the rabbit hole of reading his reviews on rogerebert.com, or plowing through online vids of episodes of Siskel & Ebert for hours on end.

Film criticism, and criticism in general, is a tough road to travel — the reviewer is stating an opinion, their opinion, fully aware that many will disagree with them. Roger Ebert approached film criticism with unabashed love and zeal. When a movie was bad, especially when produced by top-shelf filmmakers and actors, Ebert was justly disappointed, like a parent whose children had just acted out in a way that felt like a betrayal. When it was great, he used his massive pull as a columnist with the Chicago Sun-Times and his syndicated TV juggernaut with partner Gene Siskel to encourage people to see them. And when it was a small film, he aggressively worked to make sure it found an audience, such as Errol Morris’ great doc Gates of Heaven and Steve James’ Hoop Dreams.

It seems fitting that James should helm the touching and engrossing new documentary based on Ebert’s own memoir Life Itself, chronicling the last act of Ebert’s life as he battled, and eventually lost his life to,  jaw cancer. With his wife Chaz by his side, Ebert allowed James access to capture his days in the hospital (including some icky scenes involving some suction, which Ebert, ever the optimist, tries to make less painful with some Steely Dan). There’s some touching scenes with Ebert’s grandkids, and lots of amazing documentation on his romance with Chaz, whom he met in AA. There’s footage of Ebert and Siskel — who had a very competitive and often antagonistic relationship — feuding and chiding each other as they try to knock out some intros to their show, which felt a lot like walking in on our your parents fighting. But their competitiveness created some truly memorable conversations and discourse about film — each thought they were right in their assessment and tried super hard to change the other’s mind. The film chronicles his rise from college newspaper columnist to one of the most powerful and influential critics in the world, but more importantly, his transition to beloved family man.

The film is littered with examples of aspiring filmmakers that Ebert went to bat for and inspired — one young woman met Ebert as an eight-year-old on the red carpet at the Oscars; many years later, she made a film that Ebert championed. Producer Martin Scorsese also attributes Ebert to molding and influencing him as well; in one particularly amusing sequence, Ebert trashes The Color of Money, which Scorsese admits to being devastated by. Agree or disagree with him, you could always respect him. Life Itself is a compelling and touching tribute to a brilliant and complicated man. Be forewarned: it may make you as weepy as the the last reel of Cinema Paradiso (and if you immediately know what I mean by that reference, then I guarantee that it will). Thumbs up on a life well lived, Roger, and a big thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Short Term 12
2013, 96 mins
R
Grade: A

Short Term 12 is, quite simply, one of the best films of the year. An engrossing drama with moments both touching and funny, it’s a confident debut from writer/director Destin Daniel Crettin. The film follows Grace (Brie Larson, who is quickly becoming one of my favorite actresses) who dedicates her life to helping at-risk kids and teens at an undermanned facility, with the help of her (secret) boyfriend Mason (John Gallagher, Jr., charming) and a small staff. The film picks up on new employee Nate’s first day (Rami Malek, always good) who is quickly overwhelmed by the bevy of troubled youth at the center. Grace keeps a level head and advises him “You kind of have to be an asshole before you can be their friend.” Things change for Grace the day a fifteen year old girl named Jayden (Kaitlyn Dever, from Justified) is admitted, who has bounced around from facility to facility due to violent behavior. The two have more in common than one would suspect, as Grace has a troubled past of her own.

What could easily have been overly sentimental, manipulative and categorized as an after school special is instead a magical film full of magnificent, small moments that are at once powerful and affecting. Abuse is major theme here, and its dealt with in a realistic  and many-sided way. As we get to know the characters, which are carefully drawn and complex, we can identify with their frustrations and empathize with their troubles, even if we can’t draw from personal experience. Particularly effective is a sub-plot with a black teen named Marcus, who is about to turn 18 and be released from the center. Smart, poetic, but tormented by his past, he spills his soul in one particularly powerful scene through his lyrics. Played with brimming intensity by Keith Stanfield, you can’t help but to pull for this kid to tame his demons. At the center of it all is Grace, who might be the most wounded of them all — who Brie Larson personifies to absolute perfection. It’s a film that will stick with you long after you see it, and should garner some well-deserved attention come awards season. It’s in limited release, so you may need to do some sleuthing to find a theater showing it, but it’s well worth the journey.

Kick-Ass 2
2013, 103 mins
R
Grade: D

For the record, I really like the first Kick-Ass film. A fun, meta exercise on super hero excess and comic books, it was subversive and viscerally fun, and well put together under the watch of Matthew Vaughn. Swap out Vaughn for Jeff Wadlow (Cry Wolf, Never Back Down), and suddenly you’ve got a picture that’s just long on ugly and low on fun. The ultra-violence on display lacks the mischief of its predecessor, and just feels brutal and wrong. Add in graphic vomit and diarrhea (I’m not kidding), and you’ve got a pretty gross two hours to kill.

It doesn’t help that the film has a title character that’s hardly interesting — Dave aka Kick-Ass (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) and his curly moptop returns, semi-retired from the super hero life but missing it. Hoping to get back out there, he starts training with Mindy aka Hit Girl (Chloe Grace Moretz, the best thing about the series in general). After a run in with some alley thugs, Mindy’s guardian, Detective Marcus Williams (Morris Chestnut), forbids her to go out there again and encourages her to just be a teenager. Partnerless, Dave seeks out a ragtag team of civilian heroes, led by Colonel Stars and Stripes (Jim Carrey, who was wise to distance himself from this thing, but makes the most of his limited screen time and adds a bit of welcome goofiness to the film). Meanwhile, Red Mist (Christopher Mintz-Plasse — Jesus, do all the actors in this thing have three word names?), now clad in his mother’s S&M gear and calling himself The Motherfucker, assembles a team of baddies to help him destroy Kick-Ass, who is responsible for killing his gangster father with a rocket launcher in the first film.

It’s with The Motherfucker that a lot of the film’s tonal problems and ugliness occur — in one particularly ill-advised and just plain uncomfortable scene, he threatens to “give some evil dick” to a female hero named Nightbitch, only to find he can’t get it up. I guess we’re supposed to laugh at a guy trying to rape a woman, but not being able to do so. Really, movie? Some may argue that it’s a send up of the super villain’s checklist of evil activities, but it seems like a bad place to mine for comedy.

The film also suffers when it holds its one interesting hero in check — Hit Girl spends most of the film texting Dave things like “Sorry, I made a promise” and “Can’t help you, hope you understand” while moping in her room, wrestling with trying to fit in at high school and keep her pledge to Marcus, or embrace her Hit Girl side. And when she finally does get out and let loose (like in an inventive van action sequence), it feels like too little too late. It’s like going to see a Batman movie where Batman just does Batman things for ten minutes and spends the rest of the time doing laundry. I can watch me do laundry. I want to watch Batman be Batman, ya know?

The rest of the cast is full of interesting actors hardly used — John Leguizamo is on hand for a bit in a thankless role, and Donald Faison plays another hero with lisping enthusiasm but doesn’t make much of an impression. And Ian Glen shows his American accent for one scene, instead of just scolding the Khalesi for an hour (Game of Thrones, anyone?).

Does this spell the end of the Kick-Ass franchise? Judging by its box office receipts, it probably does. I’m not sure if a third film would be able to capture what made the first so much good fun — but it can’t go much more wrong than this one does.

Elysium
2013, 109 mins
R
Grade: B-

Neill Blomkamp is a visionary director that likes to make films set in garbage heaps. For his first film since the breakout sleeper hit District 9, he goes from the slums of South Africa to the slums of Los Angeles, circa 2154 — the earth has been ruined and overcrowded, only to see the wealthy jump ship from the planet and set up shop in a rotating spacestation called Elysium — basically, one giant french-speaking country club with miracle beds that cure all diseases. Defense Minister Delacourt (Jodie Foster) is on hand to make sure no one disturbs their utopia, shooting down ships with “illegals” from Earth who try to find their way up there. Max Da Costa (Matt Damon), an ex-con trying to go straight in LA, is constantly abused by those around him — the police robots (who break his arm after a wisecrack); his ex-partners in crime; and his assembly-line foreman (who is such a thinly drawn character its hard not to laugh at his awful dialogue). After an accident exposes him to a fatal dose of radiation, Max has a handful of days to find his way up to Elysium, or die trying. Fused with a beat-up mechanical exoskeleton and a hard drive in his brain (that, through a series of events I won’t go into, contains information that pretty much everyone wants), Max has a lot of shooting, running and punching to do.

There’s more supporting characters on hand to aid or hinder Max in his quest, including his old buddy Julio (Diego Luna), a hacker named Spider, a childhood love interest (Alice Braga) and her sick daughter, an oily CEO (William Fichtner), and a psychopathic merc named Kruger (Sharlto Copley, of Blomkamp’s District 9 and guilty-pleasure The A-Team). That’s one of the problems with the film — a lot of the villains (and there are many) are paper-thin, with simplistic or unexplained motivations. Foster’s role, despite the second billing, doesn’t really have a lot to do, other than snap at everyone around her in a quasi-french, quasi-South African, quasi-I dunno accent. None of the character arcs really work here — motivations quickly change, and several suddenly become political and revolutionary. Blomkamp takes time to give Max a lot of backstory through flashback, but these scenes don’t really help to justify what’s to come for Max in the film.

Still, there are moments of creativity that show just what a talent Blomkamp is. He has a knack for gritty, dirty dystopian sci-fi, where the gadgets and weapons are at once primitive and super futuristic (and, more, often than not, blow a person into tiny flying bloody pieces). There’s knives and samurai swords, but also big energy bolt guns and giant hand-held missile launchers capable of shooting a ship down from space. The action set pieces are a winning combination of old and new, and can often be exhilarating — if only there were more of them. Copley’s crazed Kruger brings an unpredictable energy to the screen — I found myself wanting to see more of him, but also wanting to, well, just see more of District 9. And there-in lies the problem. This is a perfectly serviceable sci-fi film, but it’s not the masterpiece I had my fingers crossed for. Lightning doesn’t strike twice (even if its shot from a big ol’ laser gun), and Elysium fails to live up to expectations.

RED 2
2013, 1 hr. 56 min
PG-13
Grade: C+

It’s always weird when a film that was a fairly moderate success at the box office suddenly gets a sequel — such was the case of 2010’s RED, an lightly entertaining secret agent action comedy with a splendid cast and a cute conceit. Kicking off the dog days of summer, RED 2 (that stands for Retired Extremely Dangerous) finds assassin Frank Moses (Bruce Willis, at his scowliest) and his now-girlfriend Sarah (Mary-Louise Parker) in hiding, stuck in a bit of a relationship rut until good ol’ paranoid Marvin (John Malkovich) tries to lure him back into action. One Costco trip and fake death later, the trio find themselves on the run from pretty much every nation’s government, all concerning an operation codenamed Nightshade that they have no knowledge of but were supposedly involved with. Hot on their trail are Korean assassin/snappy dresser Han (Byung-hun Lee, of the G.I. Joe movies), who has a long-standing beef with Moses and relishes the opportunity to knock him off; steely-eyed American government clean-up man Jack Horton (Neil McDonough, picking up where he left off after Justified); Russian agent and ex-Moses lover Katja (Catherine Zeta-Jones, at her tannest); and MI-6 hitwoman Victoria (Dame Helen Mirren, still the hottest thing in heels). What follows is a lot of globehopping, a murky plot involving a devastating explosive device, and lots of chase scenes and gunfights. Oh, and lots and lots of none-too-subtle product placement from the likes of Papa John’s and Pringles.

The main attraction here is the stellar cast — watching them work is a delight in itself. And yet, the film isn’t nearly as fun as it should be. The script lacks punch — a few inspired moments of comedy, usually care of Malkovich or the adorably daft Parker, are intermingled with lots and lots of plot mechanics, which tend to bog the journey down. There’s a few fun pokes at the previous films of some of the stars (a looney bin The Queen bit is fun for Mirren, and Anthony Hopkins does a nice wink to his iconic serial killer), and its in these moments that one wishes the whole film could aspire. Hopkins, as a scientist nutcase locked away for over 30 years, is a welcome addition to the strong ensemble, as is Lee, who adds some fun kung-fu fistfights to the proceedings — and the site of Dame Helen Mirren firing out both front windows of a speeding care simultaneously is almost alone worth the price of admission. Brian Cox makes the most of a limited role, but in a film sporting two of filmdom’s Hannibal Lechters, its a shame the two never share some fava beans, a bottle of chianti and some screen time  together. Dean Parisot, who directed the brilliant sci-fi send up Galaxy Quest, is at the helm here, and keeps it moving as well as he can, but in the end, the script needed some expositional trimming. No need to rush to the theater — this one will play well at home.

The To Do List
2013, 1 hr. 44 min
R
Grade: C

The To Do List is a raunchy comedy that takes place in the ’90s — so much so, that it beats you over the head with it. 1993, in fact, which is precisely when I was about to finish high school and head off to college, so the era has a very special place in my heart. It’s one thing to set a film in a time period to dial up some nostalgia — but constantly calling it out instead of just existing in it can make one crazy. Such is the case of this fairly entertaining but troubled comedy from writer/director Maggie Carey, who seems to have a soft spot for the early 90s that, in addition to soundtrack littered with The Cranberries, The Gin Blossoms and Big Head Todd and the Monsters (a LIVE version of Bittersweet, to boot), constantly references things like pagers, Street Fighter II, Growing Pains and Saved By The Bell. One character, who is obsessed with the movie Beaches, remarks that she’s “got it on VHS,” which is a statement that pretty much no one said in 1993, as there wasn’t any other format options — a simple “rented it” would have sufficed. This might sound like I’m nitpicking, but calling attention to these things became more and more irksome every time. Let me notice the hypercolor shirt, you don’t have to have someone remark, “You look good in hypercolor.”

The film follows high school Valedictorian Brandy Klark (Parks and Rec’s Aubrey Plaza, who notriously promoted the film across her chest before being booted out of the MTV Awards after handing a drink off to Will Farrell onstage), an ace in all things booky but clueless in the ways of sex and love. After lusting after a Def Leppard-playing bo hunk at a party (played well by Friday Night Lights‘ Scott Porter), she decides to get some experience before heading off to college in the fall, thus putting together her sexual to do list in her trapper keeper and checking things off one at a time, all the while working as a lifeguard at a pool. Conveniently, all the films major players and objects of her lust and affection work there, too — in addition to Porter, there’s pervy Duffy (Christopher Mintz-Plasse), naive partier Derrick (Community‘s Donald Glover), burnt out pool manager Willy (Bill Hader), and nice-guy-lab-partner-overall-love-interest Cameron (Johnny Simmons), who holds a flame for Brandy throughout her sexual conquests. In this respect, the film is similar to The Way Way Back, which also took place at a summer watersource and tapped into nostalgia, but was more about the environmental details and less about calling them out.

Plaza plays the uptight but ultimately liberated Brandy well, and she has good chemistry with her girlfriends (played by Alia Shawkat and Sarah Steele), who help guide her throughout the film. Simmons elicits lots of laughs as Cameron (and an occasional “awwwww!” from the ladies at my screening, as he has a nice collection of sad-sack moments) and the film totes an impressive comedic cast (Andy Samberg, Jack McBrayer, Brian Huskey, Rachel Bilson, Clark Gregg , Connie Britton and Nolan Gould also star). Hader also puts in some good work in the juiciest supporting role as Willy — he also served as a producer on the film, as well as husband to its writer/director.

Ultimately, the script doesn’t quite live up to the lively premise. There are moments of inspired comedy, but also a lot of gross out gags a la American Pie, and a tone that shifts from coming of age/sexual awakening to genre/timeperiod farce. It just never quite clicks the way I wanted it to — it’s refreshing to see a film like this told from the female point of view, but at the end of the day, its still chock full of graphic semen and poop jokes. And so, much like Brandy, the film is stuck between high school and college — well-meaning, a little awkward and juvenile, still trying to find out who it is, but with a lot of potential.

The Wolverine
2013, 2 hrs, 6 min.
PG-13
Grade: B

Full confession: I’m a bit of a nut for all things X-Men. As a teenager, I collected comics (primarily Marvel), and the X-Men franchise was by far my favorite, collecting issues 200-300, roughly, of the Uncanny series, as well as spin offs like X-Factor, Power Pack, and Wolverine, as well as whatever cross overs hit the shelves (Every once in a while, it’s “refreshing” to see Logan battle, say, Ghost Rider). So when the films starts popping up in the cinemas, I was excited while trepidatious — the first and second films were entertaining, while X3 suffered under Brett Ratner, and the first Wolverine spin-off was an unmitigated disaster.

Cut to The Wolverine, another shot at focusing on Hugh Jackman’s insanely popular clawed mutant, this time well past origins territory and instead following Wolvie on his adventures in Japan, a very popular storyline in the comics well suited for the big screen. It starts with a literal bang as Logan saves a Japanese soldier from obliteration at Nagasaki, only to quickly awaken to a conversation between him and the long since dead Jean Grey (Famke Janssen, reprising her role from the previous films), and awaken again to a cold rainy night in the wilderness, where our tormented hero has been wasting away since he killed his beloved. After making a “point” with a poisonous arrow to a repugnant hunter in a bar, Logan is whisked away to Japan by orphan and fellow mutant Yukio (Rila Fukushima) to say goodbye to Yashida, the soldier whose life he saved many years ago, who is now a powerful electronics manufacturer and is terminally ill. He offers Logan a chance to give up his immortality and find peace — but it appears to not come without consequences. What follows is a power struggle between Yashida’s family — his son Shingen (Hiroyuki Sanda), his granddaughter Mariko (the stunning Tao Okamoto), her childhood flame turned ninja archer Harada (Will Yun Lee), and her arranged marriage to Noburo (Brian Tee), a corrupt but up-and-coming politician. Throw in a heavy doss of Yakuza thugs and ninjas and you’ve got plenty of folks for Logan to tussle with as his tries to protect Mariko and figure out just what is going on.

Director James Mangold (Copland, Identity, 3:10 to Yuma) might seen an odd choice to helm this installment, but I think he’s rather perfect, as the film functions first as a character study, second as an action film. It takes its time watching Wolvie relive his nightmares and search to find meaning in his life, a choice that probably wrinkles the feathers of those going to the multiplex for a rip-roaring good time. It’s not to say that there isn’t action — there is (one particularly memorable sequence take place atop a speeding bullet train, which go around 300mph, as Logan is keen to remind us). But the action sequences are few and far apart — which would bother me, if it wasn’t for Hugh Jackman’s incredible performance of a character that is probably my all-time favorite in comics. Spending time with him, even as he works through a plethora of issues, is totally engrossing to me, while others may find it a bit tedious. Plus, Wolverine isn’t the invincible, quick-healing wisecracker of films past; he’s a flawed, almost anti-hero who battles his toughest foe yet — his own, now mortal, body.

The film falls apart a bit in the third act — its as if the studio needed the action to get cranked up, so we get a lot of ninjas, a massive mechanical samurai, and a fairly weak villain in Viper (Svetlana Khodchenkova), who struts around in tight spandex, spits venom, sheds her skin, and otherwise sticks out like a sore thumb. But for all the bells and whistles, it still manages to wrap up nicely, and a mid-credits sequence involving Professor X and Magneto generates a lot of excitement for the upcoming X-Men: Days of Future Past film. And that, ‘bub, should involve lots of the claws-first, questions-later Wolvie you may have been coming for here.