MOVIE GRADES

UPSTREAM COLOR Infographic…for the best movie of 2013 so far

I’m reviewing The Usual Suspects on the The Flicksation Podcast tonight & it dawned on me…it’s basically a police interrogation version of Life of Pi. Two great movies that share one cool narrative structure. #MindBlown

The Campaign  (2012)  C+
Jay Roach (Meet the Fockers, Dinner for Schmucks) directs this political comedy about mudslinging that spirals into eventual conscience cleansing.  It’s fair to expect this to be a better political satire that it turns out to be, considering we’re in an election year and Roach is coming off directing a political insider project that dramatized Sarah Palin’s vice presidential nomination in the HBO movie Game Change, which got good reviews last year.  Here, Roach let’s his stars improvise, because these are two of the better improv actors in comedy, but he doesn’t present the story very well or improve the script himself at all.  The Campaign doesn’t really get into Republican vs. Democrat or liberal vs. conservative ideals.  But for all intents and purposes Will Ferrell is the democratic congressman, Cam Brady, who believes in 3 things: America, Jesus, and freedom…at least thats what he tell the public.  But, more than anything, he’s a showman.  He works the crowd, gives a great speech, and has lost sight of what it truly means to run for office.  He’s gotten mixed up in sex scandals and is always saying the hilariously wrong thing.  It’s a surprisingly raunchy portrayal by Ferrell.  Thankfully, The Campaign is rated “R” because his character would be pretty unfunny otherwise.  Zach Galifianakis plays the conservative challenger, Marty Huggins, affecting the effeminate accent of his pet southerner character.  Huggins is wrangled into the race by a pair of powerful conservative lobbyists (John Lithgow & Dan Aykroyd) who want him to push their agenda.  Huggins eventually sniffs out their scheme and breaks away to run his own race, his own way.  Galifianakis is very enjoyable here, putting a slight twist on his usual movie persona, and garnering a majority of the popular vote in The Campaign.  Dylan McDermott is the lone bright spot in of the supporting cast.  He gives an absurdly intensified performance as Huggins’ campaign manager, but it’s entirely one-note.  Opposite him, the typically winning Jason Sudeikis is unfortunately unfunny as Brady’s chief of staff.  Lithgow and Aykroyd don’t add much at all and are never funny in this, as their paper-thin critical spoof of corporate lobbyists and political payoff schemes isn’t fresh or effective.  The Campaign has a disappointingly weak set-up, an extremely lazy ending, and the story in-between is just happy to glide at an above average level of entertainment.  It does have some good laughs in it (especially when we’re at home with either of the candidates and their families), but we expect better from this duo with their comedic pedigree.  The fact is, Ferrell and Galifianakis are only in four scenes together!  That’s some kind of screenwriting crime.  Viewers may go in hoping for a comedy in the mold of Step Brothers, but end up getting one more along the lines of Black Sheep; which is to say it’s a pretty funny movie, but not a good movie.   79  C+

Acting  B
Directing  C-
Visuals  C+
Sound  B-
Story  C

+ Dinner table debacles
+ Pound Cake & Muffins
-  Timid Koch Bros. send-up
-  Lackadaisical storytelling

In Class With:  Black Sheep, Trading Places, Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, and You’re Welcome, America: An Evening with George W. Bush

Being Flynn (2012)  B
Directed by Paul Weitz (About a Boy, In Good Company), this adaptation of Nick Flynn’s memoir, Another Bullshit Night in Suck City, is a thoughtful drama centered on the troubled relationship between an estranged father and son, whose lives, livelihoods, and literary efforts are all works in progress.  Robert De Niro is Jonathan Flynn, self proclaimed writer of the next great American novel.  Paul Dano is Nicholas Flynn, Jonathan’s son and aspiring writer whose father has never been around.  Then suddenly is, and suddenly isn’t again.  The film’s narration flips back and forth between the two Flynns, whose literary voices are fairly descriptive and expressive.  For writers, everyday life constitutes gathering material, or so they tell themselves.  Jonathan is cranky, bigoted, and cooky, eventually becoming homeless…an invisible man, in an invisible room, in the invisible city.  De Niro plays a man falling down quite well, as we saw so many years ago in Taxi Driver.  It’s nice to see echoes of Travis Bickle here, as Jonathan drives a cab towards senility and De Niro returns to a committed form, after years of schtick work.  

Dano is very good too, with his character almost drowning into despair trying to save his drunk and delusional dad.  Nick finds work at a homeless shelter, soon to house his own emotionally distant and suddenly present father.  Julianne Moore plays Nick’s mother, seen in flashbacks of his childhood growth years.  Moore rarely misses a beat, as usual, and leads the talented female supporting cast, which includes Olivia Thirlby and Lili Taylor.  Being Flynn is an interesting composition of scenes and story, but feels oddly paced at times.  The film’s tone seems off at first, but rounds into an authentic form and poetic prose that delineates the interlaced realities of life, love, and loss, and of being a writer, father, son, and family.  This is a warm movie about cold feelings and people who’ve become pebbles bouncing on life’s rock bottom.  The Flynn’s relationship is based on terms set by the father’s actions, before the events of the film lead the son to take hold of the relationship on his own terms.  The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree and can only roll so far away in search of the last word in their perpetual conflict.   85  B

Acting  B+
Directing  B-
Visuals  B-
Sound  B-
Story  B

+ Baseball toss with Mom’s barrage of boyfriends
+ Fleeting comfort of a fetal pose in a frozen city
-  Off-balance blend of depression, sympathy, and cruelty

In Class With:  The Kids Are All Right, and The Descendants

Beasts of the Southern Wild  (2012)  A
“Once there was a Hushpuppy, and she lived in the Bathtub with her daddy.”
Six-year-old, first-time actress Quvenzhané Wallis is a sheer marvel in one of the most powerful, fresh, and visionary films of 2012.  She plays a wide-eyed and mud-streaked little girl named Hushpuppy, a wild child clinging to life in the backwater bayou on the wrong side of the levee.  Faced with her father’s fading health and environmental changes that release a horde of giant, ice age beasts, the headstrong heroine leaves her broken-down trailer home in search of her mother.  This is a child’s view of the universe from far below the poverty line.  She possesses an active imagination and a sweetly philosophical outlook as she ruminates on existence, nature, self, and family.  As the pint-sized protagonist tells us her story, her elementary narration becomes profoundly poetic.  Benh Zeitlin directs and co-wrote this story of small hopes and slim chances.  With its brave use of non-professional actors, the film is ambitiously creative and fiercely independent.  Beasts of the Southern Wild plays out like a damaged fairy tale set in an abandoned junkyard.  Viewers witness a premature coming of age, powered by primal instincts, strength, ferocity, and magical realism.  Part myth and part children’s story, there are moments when the story’s seduction is laid on a bit thick, resulting in a syrupy pretension that fades before becoming too overbearing.  

Whether or not its viewers can relate, this is a movie with a soul steeped in bayou culture.  First-time performer Dwight Henry plays Hushpuppy’s drunken daddy, Wink.  He is occasionally mentorial, but more often mean and unloving, and frequently incapacitated by a worsening heart problem.  Their father-daughter relationship is a difficult one, built on hard-earned love and instilled independence.  Wink and Hushpuppy serve as our indoctrination into a fictional Louisiana Delta community called the Bathtub, populated by dirt-poor people in makeshift homes, intent on living life on their own meager terms.  As a major storm hits and their water-logged outpost is in danger of being swallowed up, the stubborn residents refuse to be relocated to dry land.  Instead, they hide out in the swampland, avoiding government aid workers and praying that the waters don’t rise anymore.  Clearly informed by the events of 2005, this post-Katrina environmental disaster finds the disrupted community trying to cope with a harsh new reality the best way they know how to.  Their location and mindset are disorienting in their separation from the mainland and the mainstream, but the story does touch base with our worldly realities.  

Beasts of the Southern Wild doesn’t provide much in the way of detailed information about its characters or its setting.  But, that’s a good thing because the sense of discovery here is great.  Beyond that discovery lies an exploration of emotion and environment.  It’s a constant mixture of filth and beauty, danger and innocence, displacement and disenfranchisement.  Viewers are instantly absorbed into this uninviting territory and soon invested in these hardly relatable characters, a tribute to Zeitlin’s impressive grasp of filmic techniques.  The vivacious musical score is a near-constant presence, intending to sweep its audience up if they’ll allow it to.  Beasts of the Southern Wild is alternately heartbreaking and uplifting, funny and sad.  It’s highly visual,  aggressively musical, and filmed intimately and lovingly.  Up-close and handheld cinematography mimics the bobbing reality of living on the water, and the camera is often placed at thigh-level, as to give viewers a shared perspective with little Hushpuppy.  Wallis’s innocence and natural courage power her character’s undeniable spirit in this phenomenal little film with a great ending.  A tragically beautiful and weathered ode to the fantastic resiliency of childhood.   94  A

Acting  A
Directing  A
Visuals  A
Sound  A
Story  A-

In Class With:  Mouchette, Days of Heaven, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, George Washington, and Where the Wild Things Are

REVIEWS WITH IMAGES INCLUDED AT FILM NATION BLOG

Haywire  (2011)  B
Steven Soderbergh’s most action-oriented film yet takes us around the world, as we jump back and forth chronologically in a fractured espionage plot.  Gina Carano stars as Mallory Kane, a secret ops specialist working for a private security firm.  Sometimes things get messy in the international spy game, and someone’s always getting set up and taken down.  Carano’s mixed martial arts background is showcased in a largely physical role, and she delivers a character who’s pretty, punishing, and never passive.  The fighter-turned-actress projects an intriguing aura in her silver screen debut — part smoldering, no-nonsense sexuality, part bone-crushing magnet for mayhem, with an unaffected alto voice that cuts through all the bull being thrown around by the boys.  She’s not the greatest actor, but her performance is certainly passable as she’s tasked with playing a strong, serious, silent type.  After all, Haywire is a film with laden with subtext.  What’s not being said is often more important that what’s happening on the surface.  But fear not, things are eventually spelled out for all to understand.  Ewan McGregor plays Mallory’s boss and former romantic partner.  Bill Paxton appears as a former marine, military history author, and Mallory’s proud and protective father.  Michael Fassbender, Channing Tatum, Michael Douglas, and Antonio Banderas round out Soderbergh’s eclectic cast and fall on different sides of Mallory’s pursuit of payback.  None of the talented actors in Haywire deliver memorable performances, but they don’t do anything to detract from the film’s quality either.  Soderbergh has achieved a sort of super-director status that attracts top talents for even minimal contributions.  The filmmaker is focused on the meat of his meal here, as he serves up a deliberately fixed menu garnished with the trademark technique of a gourmet.  Deliciously kinetic entrees are flanked by lush and lingering side scenes, and always with a diligent eye on presentation.  He asks the supporting actors to deliver the dialog without flair, in vital balance to several very well-choreographed fight sequences, with Carano fighting Tatum, Fassbender, et al.  The methodically paced, but skillfully measured storyline is accompanied by a propulsive (if a bit repetitive) instrumental score befitting a spy thriller that expands the genre.  Viewers are challenged to catch up with the narrative twists and turns, which border on convoluted convenience at times.  Gorgeously photographed, using only natural lighting and cleanly staged set pieces that immerse you in the action, this is one of the most visually striking action movies you’ll ever see.  It’s wired a lot like some other spy-assassin actioners, but has a palpably different look and feel, stylized in Soderbergh’s own slick and intriguing way.  He shot and edited Haywire himself, and the resulting picture is lean, clean and completely free of the incoherent combat sequences and overinflated special effects that plague more expensive Hollywood pictures.  Sure, we get the obligatory mission-gone-awry and double-crossing scenarios, but Haywire sticks to its guns and never comes off the rails.   86  B

Acting  B-
Directing  B
Visuals  A-
Sound  B
Story  B-

In Class With:  Killer Elite, Salt, Hanna, The Bourne Supremacy, and Colombiana

Moonrise Kingdom  (2012)  A
This quirky drama from eccentric filmmaker Wes Anderson depicts the humorous disruption of a quaint coastal island town, when two 12-year-olds fall in love and venture off into the wilderness together.  As the townspeople hunt for the runaway kids, a driving storm forecasts even more profound communal upheaval.  Moonrise Kingdom is warm and whimsical, poignant and well-acted, and finds the idiosyncratic filmmaker on top of his peculiar game.  Anderson is such a visual thinker and storyteller, audiences rightfully presume they’ll be treated to something artistic to look at while he tells them a tale.  But, this is not a filmmaker who is all style and no substance.  His substance is his style, because he begins work by becoming inspired by music or artwork and then shaping the story and aesthetic around that inspiration.  Moonrise Kingdom has a charmingly retro look and impeccable framing, with great depth in its compositions, which helps to immerse the audience into the idyllic setting of a fictional New England island town in 1965.  For all the vintage stylings that Anderson’s films so confidently wear, this is his first period piece; a tender love story set in the sepia-soaked ‘60s that informed his youth and have worked their influence into every one of his cinematic works.  The aesthetic beauty of Moonrise Kingdom provides a nice backdrop for the themes that it explores: first crush and puppy love, escaping from a pigeon-holed existence, and reconsidering one’s place in his or her community.  

At the center of this film are two accomplished performances by the young actors playing an overzealous couple: Jared Gilman as the decisive and defiant orphan, Sam, and Kara Hayward in a luminous performance as Suzy Bishop.  Sam is a literal outcast, unwanted by his foster family or by his troop of fellow Khaki Scouts.  Likewise, Suzy feels misunderstood in her own household.  Their connection is born out of a shared dissatisfaction, like two black sheep fleeing their flocks to find a greener pasture.  Sam’s quirkiness casts him as an underdog, and makes him an undeniable protagonist in a parade of characters written by a filmmaker who has cornered the market on quirkiness.  But that’s only the backstory for Sam, whom we meet on the day he flees Camp Ivanhoe with a plan to run away with Suzy and live off of the land.  Their shortsighted confidence is amusing and endearing, as the young couple experiences the realities of being self-sufficient, while at the same time trying to navigate the waters of a new relationship.  It’s refreshing to see a film that handles prepubescent love so tenderly and candidly, instead of shying away or having to avoid it altogether.  It’s this young love that holds the emotional center of Moonrise Kingdom, while at least 3 types of nostalgia warm the proceedings, and the hunt to restore order drives the film’s forward motion.  While the children adventure, the adults search, and they all speak very matter-of-factly.  They come across as being genuine and earnest, because Anderson takes them very seriously.  Despite depicting a human comedy, he resists allowing it to become farce.  The viewer feels the intensity of that first crush between young daydreamers who are at that pivotal age when you start to become disillusioned with the thought of others supposedly knowing what’s best for you.  Like Anderson’s other stories, this one is populated by young people who conduct themselves like adults, and grown-ups who behave like children.  Both groups reveal an equal propensity for spontaneous wisdom and inspired mistakes.  

Anderson attracts some terrific actors to support the young couple, with some playing more important roles than others.  Bill Murray returns to Wes’s world and delivers accordingly.  He’s typically good, playing Suzy’s dryly detached father, but not really a standout here.  His character’s wife, played by Frances McDormand unknowingly sets their daughter’s path to forbidden love in motion.  Suzy sees her mother’s example for finding emotional connections, buries herself in a collection of youth-lit based on adventurous heroines, and searches her trusty binoculars for life beyond the horizon.  Murray and McDormand portray attorney spouses and both possess glumly expressive faces that convey the spirit of comic sadness so prevalent in Anderson’s work.  Jason Schwartzman plays Cousin Ben, an ally scout leader from another camp on the island.  He is used slyly, but sparingly, as a sort of older brother figure.  He’s a go-between for the kids who are fed up with adults (lawyer parents, scoutmasters, troop leaders, cops, pastors), all of whom have staked their vicarious claims to Sam and Suzy’s adolescence.  Cousin Ben is the one intermediary who can nearly see things from the kids’ perspective.  Like the older brother that will buy you alcohol in high school, he might have temporary misgivings of irresponsibility, but those thoughts are overridden by his understanding that reaching beyond your maturity is how you become mature; a feeling that’s bolstered by the reassurance that your lack of applied confidence will dampen your courage to go overboard.  Moonlight Kingdom is an exercise in rocking the boat in the interest of exploration and self-discovery; facing extreme conditions without capsizing.  

Joining Kingdom’s crew is Bruce Willis, deftly playing a simple man, a sad cop, and a reluctant surrogate father figure named Captain Sharp.  Harvey Keitel pops up as the commander of a larger scout camp and is unusually funny in his small role.  The pluckiest supporting performance is supplied by Edward Norton, who plays against type as a scoutmaster, so devoted to his troop that he refers to his math teaching career as “part time.”  He’s a flawed, but committed character who struggles like every other failing adult on the island, with the exception of the delivery pilot-narrator.  Bob Balaban plays the all-seeing pilot who provides the audience access to a larger field of view.  He serves as the narrator and human bookmark as we make our way through the narrative.  He’s placed center-frame and shrouded in bright red, acting as a beacon for the impending storm, set to flood the scenery with blowing wind and chaos, before washing away the feelings of angst that have built up, boiled over, and eventually need to be tampered back down.  The aftermath allows for a renewed outlook on community as several characters have improved their position or outlook within this little world.  Our natural pursuit of a sense of community is well-explored here.  The kids are catalysts for the townspeople to consider their roles and actions within this offbeat colony.  Tilda Swinton is underused as the outside authority, but is good in her brief performance, as the script allows her and Keitel to lend eccentricity to their bit parts.  

Moonrise Kingdom pulls off the rare achievement of being simultaneously fun and sentimental.  We know this is a fantasy world of Anderson’s making, and yet the characters’ connections feel real enough to be relatable.  As the film reaches its apex, the storyline becomes more far-fetched.  Yet, remarkably, this doesn’t detract from the emotional pull of the film.  With a curious collection of scouts named Izod, Roosevelt, and Lazy Eye, this is a movie that reads like a good, old-fashioned storybook.  It feels wonderfully bookish, but is stylized in a way that adds the joy of being told a story aloud by a showman who specializes in sound and vision.  Similar to O, Brother Where Art Thou?, Moonrise Kingdom employs an immersive environment, detailed and definitive visuals, and a fantastic score.  The storytelling is typical of the uber-creativity that we’ve come to expect from Anderson.  He establishes the narrative situation in brisk, efficient, funny ways, beginning with the befuddled adults, then going back to the kids’ first meeting.  The courtship between the kids is condensed into a rapid back-and-forth format of letter writing, and the adults’ radio communications across the island are distilled into simple split-screen conversations.  All of it is handled so masterfully that it becomes creative and intelligent storytelling.  Anderson sprinkles in some meaningful scenes like a profound and subtle apology-conversation between Murray and McDormand in the bedroom, and a brief, but telling exchange between Willis and Murray in an uncomfortable car ride.  It’s these graceful moments in the script that help to lift the entire vessel to unforeseen crests.  A “Noah’s Ark” motif buoys the film visually, along with the look of ‘60s home movies, and postcards from summer camp.  Moonrise Kingdom is sweet, and funny, but a sadness permeates the proceedings and balances out the joyful adventure that includes some real danger along the way.  The story is based on the idea of fleeing the imposed structure of a family unit in order to find yourself.  In the end, we see our protagonist don a new uniform (a consistent theme in Anderson’s films), signifying that he still belongs to a community, but perhaps with a more respected rank, and as a much-needed part of someone’s life.  Moonrise Kingdom begins and ends by gifting viewers access to the upper tier of the Bishop Family’s nautical jewel box estate.  Anderson lets us peer inside with mesmerizing effect and a lasting vision, as he composes an ode to mischief, shifting priorities, and the splendor of Summer.   95  A

Acting  A-
Directing  A
Visuals  A
Sound A-
Story  A-

In Class With:  O Brother, Where Art Thou?, Carnage, American Beauty, and The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou

Brave  (2012)  B
Pixar’s Scottish fairy tale stands its ground as a solid addition to the Disney-owned animation studio’s impressive roster.  In fact, Brave feels more Disney-like than any of the previous Pixar offerings since their filmmaking partnership was formed.  The marketing campaign for this movie would lead us to believe this is a sort of female Robin Hood story.  Yes, the heroine is a skilled archer, but she is not defined by a single skill, but rather her ambitious mindset.  Ultimately, this is a story of the contentious, yet transformative relationship between a mother and daughter.  Merida (voiced by Kelly Macdonald) is a princess who balks at her loving mother’s traditional plan for her life, instead preferring to romp around the countryside with her trusty bow and arrow.  Feeling repressed by her overbearing mother (voiced by Emma Thompson), Merida is set to determine her own fate and to learn from medieval legend.  She swiftly rejects her highland region’s custom of arranged marriage for the monarchy.  The story takes a turn for the better when the pissed-off princess flees the castle, is drawn into unknown territory, and seeks spellbinding assistance from a cantankerous witch.  When the witchcraft goes awry, a seemingly unbearable curse on the royal family becomes a blessing upon the movie’s storyline.  Merida’s reckless choice unleashes unintended peril and forces her to spring into action to set things right.  The old adage, “Be careful what you wish for, you might just get it,” is in full force, as is the intangible Disney-Pixar magic.  Visually, this movie is amazing.  From acres of lush landscape and foliage, to our leading lass’s lochs, the level of detail is an achievement in animation.  Pixar completely rewrote their animation system for the first time in 25 years, and the fantastic result is an impeccable representation of photorealistic elements, especially when it comes to hair, fur, wood, and water…typically the most difficult things to represent with computer generated pixels.  After 12 films lead by male protagonists, Pixar has finally added a female lead to its stable of animated stars.  Brave feels a bit too familiar at times, but is taken in brave new directions at others.  Merida is a refreshing reversal of typical Disney princess fables like The Little Mermaid, Cinderella, Snow White, and Sleeping Beauty.  Those leading ladies all were paired with some version of a Prince Charming who they had to fight for or be rescued by.  In Brave, Merida is offered three potential suitors, all of whom are bumbling oafs, and all of which she rejects (publicly declining their hand in marriage, and emasculating them by out-shooting them on the archery range) because this is not a story about love, at least not romantic love.  This is about a girl learning to express her identity, and a mother trusting her daughter to become herself.  Merida’s independent spirit is reflected in her wild mane of red hair.  She denounces everything about being a princess, but not about being feminine.  She hates tight dresses and restrained hairstyles, and she isn’t enamored with castles or jewels.  But she’s not exactly a tomboy either.  The fate of the story depends not only on her archery and swordsmanship, but also her sewing and sweet charm.  Brave has enough rough-and-tumble action, and beautiful animation to hold the youngest viewers’ attention.  But its real success is presenting a great example of storytelling that doesn’t view girls as the passive, trophy objects that we so often see in media.  Brave is a fairly small movie, not an epic story.  Viewers may be expecting an animated Celtic saga, full of magic, wonder, and adventure.  It ends up having those things, but in much smaller quantities than you might anticipate.  It doesn’t feature the typical animated movie songbook style either, but the sound is quite good, being the first feature film to use the Dolby Atmos sound design.  The voice acting is also pretty good, as the female characters at the center of the story are complemented by blustery male characters voiced by Billy Connolly, Craig Ferguson, and John Ratzenberger, among others.  Unfortunately, the men in Brave are too base and typically dumb, which plays into another overdone trope of Hollywood.  Brave does not wield the conversational wittiness that we’ve come to expect from Pixar, but it loads the quiver with plenty of sight gags to carry the day.  Executive Producer and Pixar’s CCO John Lasseter is fond of saying, “For every laugh, there should be a tear.”  While not to be taken literally, that sage directive steers almost all of the successful narratives in Pixar’s oeuvre.  Brave has some great moments and evokes some genuine emotion.  The relationship between mother and daughter, and parent and child is well-done and feels natural.  We feel at once the rebelliousness of youth and the burden of adult responsibility.  However, the story does skip a step or two in exploring the progression of their relationship and the effect each of them has on the other.  By the end, everyone has learned a valuable lesson or two, even if it’s not entirely clear what those lessons are.  Brave isn’t the sharpest, funniest, or most creative story in the Pixar canon, but it’s a visual marvel with a strong protagonist and heartfelt scenes involving the fluctuating, but formidable bond between mother and daughter.  It doesn’t hit the bull’s-eye with every effort, but this is a story that’s safely on target for most audiences.   85  B

Acting  B
Directing  B
Visuals  A-
Sound  B
Story  B

In Class With:  Tangled, Mulan, and Shrek

Jeff, Who Lives at Home  (2012)  B+
“Everything is interconnected in this universe. If you look close enough, you will see the signs. And signs will lead to your destiny.” - Jeff
Have you ever had something unexpected happen, and then looked back and realized that several, tiny things had been building to make your newfound circumstances possible?  We’ve all retraced harbingers of fate, but what the amusing and insightful Jeff, Who Lives at Home does is try to get its audience and characters to take notice as life’s happening.  Whether it’s wood glue, a basketball game, a traffic jam, or a secret admirer, the path you’re on is marked with meaning.  Jason Segel, in the titular role of a perceived slacker, gets stoned and takes each empty day as it comes.  On this particular day, he takes to following faint indicators of purpose, in hopes of teasing out their significance.  Jeff is a devotee of the movie Signs, and of discovering his own fate, following every seemingly random signal in search of his destiny.  Susan Sarandon plays Sharon, whose son, Jeff, lives at home, and whose other son, Pat, owns a Porsche.  Ed Helms plays Jeff’s brother, Pat, who probably shouldn’t own a Porsche, but does.  Judy Greer plays Linda, who is increasingly detached from her husband, Pat, no thanks to the Porsche.  The indelible Rae Dawn Chong makes a welcomed character contribution as Carol, who works with Sharon, but not from home.  Jeff, Who Lives at Home is a concise character study written and directed by Jay and Mark Duplass, who don’t make the type of broad and raunchy comedies which we’ve come to know Segel and Helms for.  Both actors show their chops for dramatic comedy here, simultaneously funny and understated, neither of them assuming the jolly and unjaded personas they’ve embodied for years on television (on How I Met Your Mother and The Office).  As distinctly contrasting brothers, their characters are drifting through life in their own separate, but similar ways.  This is the day that the guiding force inside Jeff is finally affirmed in its power and purpose.  He has internalized a life-changing moral from a seemingly trivial movie (Signs) regarding seemingly trivial moments.  He is completely uncynical and believes that everyday events have monumental effects, as they develop into something more, and eventually direct us to becoming our best.  This movie examines chance, choice, and trajectory on a small, personal scale…but the film’s impact is large.  It’s a quest story populated with characters who are looking for a new direction, to branch out from their seemingly truncated emotional growth.  Their relationships with eachother provide a guiding light, in addition to listening to their unsilent instincts.  Jeff, Who Lives at Home is a sincere, whimsical, and emotionally intelligent film, determined to find its characters’ destinies.  It’s also quirky, somewhat far-fetched, and not for everyone.  While showing us how the human spirit can ultimately prevail in the drifting lives of utterly regular people, it questions modern society’s tendency to denounce naive faith and discourage bold gestures.  Clocking in at just 83 minutes, this film is succinct and paced quickly, but sensibly.  The acting and directing are the strengths of this movie, and when you have those, even a simple day-in-the-life story can achieve a meaningful culmination that hits you where you live.   87  B+

Acting  B+
Directing  B+
Visuals  B
Sound  B
Story  B

In Class With:  Win Win, Our Idiot Brother, and Crazy, Stupid, Love.

Battleship  (2012)  C+
When this board-game-turned-blow-‘em-up movie was announced, the idea was met with heavy eye rolling and visions of good-looking actors playing characters who call out coordinates on control panels.  This movie doesn’t start out like that, but it sure ends up that way.  So, that’s no surprise, and neither is the battle for Earth fought between humans and aliens.  The surprise is…the movie actually works, and it takes its place alongside Clue as an unlikely successful film adaptation of a popular board game.  Battleship is directed by hit-and-miss specialist Peter Berg, who got the idea for the alien invasion element of the story from Stephen Hawking, who has produced his own documentaries that examine the possibility of alien life in the universe.  The theory goes: If there are other intelligent life forms out there, which we presume to be advanced enough to comprehend our communications, then the stupidest thing we could do is to send signals to them; because if they are advanced enough to travel to us, then they are likely superior and thus capable of destroying us.  If aliens come to Earth, it will be like Columbus coming to America, and we will be the overwhelmed natives.  It’s bad news, and makes for some rough waters through which Berg admirably navigates his cast.  The movie is not without its misfires, as Taylor Kitsch reaffirms his skill set as being better suited for supporting roles, and carries the film just enough to get to the next seafaring set piece.  Battleship co-stars Alexander Skarsgard in minimal screen-time, along with Liam Neeson playing a Navy admiral and the father of Kitsch’s girlfriend (played by swimsuit model Brooklyn Decker).  Pop star Rihanna is along for the ride as a no-nonsense naval gunner.  The aliens arrive in cool ships and attack with awesome weapons that we haven’t quite seen before, like giant peg bombs and huge, scene-shredding wheels of destruction.  Granted, the spacemen wear spacesuits straight out of the video game Halo, and the aliens might look a bit too much like “Stone Cold” Steve Austin.  But one thing’s for sure, this movie is a lot more entertaining than the tired old board game it was inspired by.  Battleship is big, dumb, and full of mindless fun.  It doesn’t ask you to think, but what it does do is keep your eyes glued to the screen.  In fact, this is the cinematic equivalent of Guns N’ Roses’ Appetite for Destruction album…it’s kind of like “cock rock.”  It mostly goes balls-to-the-wall, then adds a love story power ballad and just a touch of introspective, humanized content to even things out.  And like GN’R, Battleship is just plain fun, without any pretension or second-guessing.  There are a handful of stupid scenes and a few ridiculous moments, but they are outweighed by stretches of totally overboard awesomeness.  The formulaic script is definitely below average, but the grandiose storyboarding is clearly evident.  The sound design and visuals are what shine here, not the character development or acting.  Surrounding the alien fracas, the film goes above and beyond to pay homage to the daunting responsibilities of the modern Navy, and offers an unexpectedly sincere salute to the heroic work of veteran servicemen.  Berg makes committed choices and somehow keeps this vessel for explosive fun afloat, while Michael Bay is surely taking pride…in between taking notes.  Dismissive viewers who don’t expect to like this movie are in for a minor surprise if they catch it on a big screen with an audience, and with the sound cranked up because it’s built for big fun and big reactions.  Battleship scores a direct hit comparable to Independence Day and other spectacle films that are eager to please indiscriminate audiences.  Sink into your seat and watch with the singular expectation of having fun.  Because sometimes we see movies for just that reason alone.   79  C+

Acting  C
Directing  B-
Cinematography  B+
Music & Sound  B+
Story  C-

In Class With:  Independence Day, Transformers, and Star Trek