Thanks to Mongrel Media, I have, oh, about 40 movie passes to a screening of One Week (caution: auto-playing video ahead), a most Canadian movie starring Joshua Jackson. Here’s the trailer:
Gordon Downie, Tofino and the Stanley Cup? Most Canadian movie ever. Incidentally, is that an actual NHL player at about 1:50? I don’t recognize him.
The film also features the lovely and talented Liane Balaban. I first saw her in New Waterford Girl, a really charming Nova Scotian film. If you haven’t seen it, it’s worth a look.
Mr. Jackson, I should add, has done an admirable job of sustaining and bolstering a career that could have died with final episode of “Dawson’s Creek”.
The screening is at the Scotiabank Theatre on Thursday, March 5th at 7:00pm. If you want a couple of free passes, come find me at Northern Voice.
While sick and bored this weekend, I wanted to watch a mindless movie. I opted for Jumper, a poorly-reviewed, big budget starring the wooden Hayden Christiansen, the foxy Rachel Bilson and the inflexible Samuel L. Jackson. It’s one promise was that Doug Liman directed, but that failed to redeem it.
In the film, Christiansen plays David Rice, who discovers as a young man that he can teleport. The rules of this power are a little fuzzy, but he seems to be able to ‘jump’ to any place he can picture in his mind’s eye. Another ‘jumper’ in the film is able to transport “about two tons” of stuff, both organic and inorganic with him. David, of course, starts robbing banks.
Lying in bed with a slight fever, I wondered what legal jobs a teleporter might be good at. Here’s what I came up with:
Personal bodyguard – He can instantly teleport his client of out harm’s way.
Courier – When you really need it there by 10:01am. This also applies to human transport.
Mercenary or spy – Obviously there are lots of possibilities for stealthy incursion and sabotage.
That’s all I could think of. Do you have any ideas?
This Remembrance Day, I thought I’d write about Passchendaele, Paul Gross’s new film based around an important World War I battle. At $20 million, it’s the biggest budgeted Canadian movie ever produced, and it looks it. The war scenes that frame the long second act are grim and bloody. They’ll be familiar to viewers of the modern war movie, but they’re skillfully rendered and watchable.
The middle of the film takes place in the then small town of Calgary, Alberta. It features all the archetypes of the Canadian historical epic: the orphaned daughter, scorned by the townspeople; her young brother, denied the chance to go to war; the town drunk, played by a fat-suit-wearing (I hope) Gil Bellows and the shell-shocked veteran returned from the front. It’s all horse rides and hobble skirts while Paul Gross’s character falls for the aforementioned orphan, played by the lovely Caroline Dhavernas.
From the CBC archives, where’s there’s a great short radio documentary about the battle:
On Nov. 6, 1917 Canadian troops captured Belgium’s Passchendaele ridge, ending a gruelling offensive that had begun on July 31, 1917. The Battle of Passchendaele is remembered for its atrocious conditions, heavy casualties and Canadian valour. Canadians, instrumental in securing victory, earned a total of nine Victoria Crosses for their courage.
It’s not Saving Private Ryan, but if you (like me) can’t get to a ceremony today to honour our armed forces, present and past, you could do worse than to watch Passchendaele and think about their sacrifice.
Over the weekend I took a couple of hours away from the mountain of work to watch “American Teen”, Nanette Burstein’s new documentary about ordinary teenagers living through an ordinary senior year in Warsaw, Kansas. Here’s the trailer (complete with spelling mistake–’highschool’ should be two words):
Structurally, it’s very similar to a zilliion teen movies. The producers obviously recognize this, given the movie poster’s clever remake of The Breakfast Club poster:
Aside from being a documentary, what sets it apart from other teen movies is how it undercuts our assumptions about the archetypes. Sure, the princess seems like a manipulating bitch, but the movie reveals an unexpected underlying reason for her behaviour.
In short, it’s a quirky, funny and sad movie that felt, at its core, very familiar. Not only because it was like a lot of high school movies, but because it felt a lot like my memories of high school.
I should mention that the film is straighter and whiter than any modern teen movie. That didn’t trouble me, as there’s no shortage of teenage tales of diverse, inner-city schools. The critics were lukewarm on this movie, and I wonder if the white breadness was an issue for them.
After arriving in Chicago, we spent a quiet evening in at the swish and oddly-gothic Hotel Sax (“Monsieurs Lestat and Impaler, your table is ready in the Crimson Lounge”). We watched a movie in our room (reasonably priced at $10): “Rendition”. I’m going to borrow a plot summary from Roger Ebert’s very positive (and highly politicized) review:
Director Gavin Hood’s terrifying, intelligent thriller “Rendition” puts a human face on the practice. We meet Anwar El-Ibrahimi (Omar Metwally), an Egyptian-born American chemical engineer who lives in Chicago. He and his wife, Isabella (Reese Witherspoon), have a young son, and she is in advanced pregnancy with another child. After boarding a flight home from a conference in Cape Town, South Africa, Anwar disappears from the airplane, his name disappears from the passenger list and Isabella hears nothing more from him…
The movie sets into motion a chain of events caused by the illegal kidnapping. Isabella, played by Witherspoon with single-minded determination and love, contacts an old boyfriend (Peter Sarsgaard) who is now an aide to a powerful senator (Alan Arkin). Convinced the missing man is innocent, the senator intervenes with the head of U.S. intelligence (Meryl Streep). She responds in flawless neocon-speak, simultaneously using terrorism as an excuse for terrorism and threatening the senator with political suicide. Arkin backs off.
Meanwhile, in the unnamed foreign country [where El-Ibrahimi is held], we meet a CIA pencil-pusher named Douglas Freeman (Jake Gyllenhaal), who has little experience in field work but has taken over the post after the assassination of his boss. His job is to work with and “supervise” the torturer Abasi.
Canadians will, of course, be reminded of the unfortunate Maher Arar. Coincidentally, I misspelled his name when I searched for him, and the first result is entitled “Extraordinary rendition”.
The film has a lot in common with Syriana–multiple plot lines featuring government cover-ups, a large and impressive cast and plenty of violence and torture. It isn’t as accomplished as Syriana, mostly because of a hokey third-act plot trick, and a far less ambiguous attitude toward its subject matter.
Still, I enjoyed it as an exotic thriller, and appreciated the very relevant theme of the fluidity of individual morality. I also liked seeing Morocco again. Much of the film was shot in Marrakech, and, remarkably, one scene was shot in Essaouira, the small town where we lived for three months.
They’re all middling to bad reviews (reflective, I guess, of the growing criticalconsensus). What’s interesting to me is that the first three reviews I mention are structured very similarly, and pretty much emphasize the same things: the writer’s feelings for the TV series, the crappy script, the haute-couture fashion, how Charlotte gets diarrhea and how the men are mute window-dressing.
I guess movie reviews, like so much of journalism, have a kind of formula, and veteran reviewers tend to look for the same things. Dana Stevens from Slate stands out for a more original and possibly overly-serious review. Here’s a sample:
Samantha disappears entirely for stretches, and her story arc contains some of the movie’s most painfully unfeminist jokes (in which we learn, for example, that vigilant pubic grooming and toned abs are essential to female self-esteem). And an attempt to address the series’ endemic whiteness by adding a subaltern black characterâ€â€Jennifer Hudson as Carrie’s designer-bag-toting Girl Fridayâ€â€is a major misfire that only underscores our heroine’s oblivious entitlement.
Regardless, I’m sure the movie will have a rompin’, stompin’ weekend at the box office.
I agree with Rob’s assessment that their win for Best Original Song restores a tiny bit of my faith in Hollywood.
I have very little time for the Oscars these days, but they do occasionally feature good musical performances. I have a fond memory of Neil Young playing “Philadelphia” about ten years ago, and I’m sure there are dozens of other good examples.
Where is this content? I searched Amazon to no avail. And besides, I don’t want a CD or DVD that somebody else curated. I want to select my favourites and buy them as MP3s or videos.
For a industry constantly whinging about lost revenue (the latest crisis: people are buying fewer DVDs), you’d think more of this audio and video would be available for sale.
As you’ve probably heard, they’ve made a movie version of Sex in the City (thanks to Rebekah for pointing to the trailer). Much like The X-Files movie and The Simpsons movie, this badboy is money in the bank. It may not be a humongous blockbuster, but I’m sure the brand is strong enough to survive any initial negative reviews.
And really brutal reviews are unlikely, because the producers just have to follow their successful TV formula. The trick is to make a risk-free, good enough film. The trailer suggests that they’ve done that:
My only complaint: there are few, if any, funny moments in the trailer. I was never a loyal watcher of the TV show, but I saw several episodes. I always thought they were moderately funny, and occasionally hilarious.
The movie may actually be funnier than is portrayed in the trailer. They appear to be trading on the show’s ‘Friends 4 Eva’ theme, as opposed to the show’s cheeky and occasionally raunchy humour. That probably reflects what the producers think will play with the film’s target demographic.
The trailer features a cover of Don Henley’s “The Heart of the Matter”. I’ve always thought that was a terrific song, and I dig this version by India.Arie (yes, her name comes with that ridiculous, ostentatious period). You can hear it as the background for one of the kajillion photo+song montages on YouTube.
I just checked out her first single from 2002. It uses one of the oldest tricks in the record industry–make sure the musician names herself in the course of her lyrics.
