Magnolia Pictures

The Extra Man

admin — Sat, 10 Jul 2010 16:01:00 +0000

Directed by Shari Springer Berman, Robert Pulcini

Based on the Jonathan Ames novel of the same title, The Extra Man is a film about, among other things, the amusing network of personal eccentricities that are produced when people engage with each other in society. The society in this film centers around a small cohort of men who live in the same apartment building: Henry Harrison, a self-proclaimed, unapologetic gentleman of yesteryear, who lives off escorting older New York City high society ladies; Louis Ives, a seemingly downtrodden young “gentleman” with a penchant for sexual deviancy (paying sex workers for spankings, cross-dressing) who rents a room from Mr. Henry Harrison and comes to admire the older man greatly; and Gershon, a falsetto-voiced man who dreams of singing melodies in a cave with his dream woman, but compensates for this dream by reading the dictionary, riding his bicycle, and masturbating ceaselessly.

The narrative follows Paul as he arrives into New York City after abruptly leaving his lecture position at an exclusive Princeton prep school (he was caught trying on a female teacher’s bra). Paul takes residence in the city with Mr. Harrison, played brilliantly by Kevin Kline, whose deft ability to perform deadpan comedy sparkles in this film. Positioned as a seemingly unwilling mentor to Paul, played by a mellow, soft-spoken Paul Dano, Mr. Henry Harrison teaches the young man how to become a gentleman—how to scam one’s ways into the opera; how to pee in the middle of the street via strategic hand maneuvers under one’s raincoat; and how, in particular, to regard women as objectified mediums to provide a gentleman’s grandiose, and somewhat garish, lifestyle.

Throughout the film, Paul seems unsatisfied with his life; he longs to be a writer instead of a lowly salesman, he longs to win the heart of his coworker Mary (Katie Holmes), and he longs to “find himself,” as do so many people who boldly move to a big city in an attempt for self-discovery. But Paul, no matter how often he partakes in his sexual fantasies, remains a depressed creature—his apparent happiness emerges only in those moments of interaction with the quirky Mr. Harrison. The denouement of the film occurs when Mr. Harrison discovers Paul cross-dressed as a woman, and so the two have a twenty-four-hour period of separation, in which the kid bemoans his woe-is-me, depressed existence. Of course, the two reunite after realizing that both enjoy each other’s company.

Kline, Dano, and John C. Reilly as Gershon, all perform wonderfully and make their characters memorable via how adeptly each embodies their respective role. The blending of genres, from British-inspired satire to melancholic realism renders the film baffling—as in, I kept looking at my watch, wondering when the film would come to a conclusion. To be honest, though, I don’t believe this reaction to be a fault of the film, but rather the film’s achievement. My guttural response was an effect of the layer of sadness that permeated the film. In other words, if you empathize with those nineteenth century decadents who ruminated on their melancholia for hours in their dimly-lit gray rooms, then, you’ll greatly enjoy this film. If you feel a Nietzschean aversion to this sort, like I do, then you’ll walk away from the cinema in full appreciation of what the film accomplishes, but feeling “mehhh...”

Written by: Marcie Bianco, July 10th 2010

Survival of the Dead

admin — Fri, 11 Jun 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Directed by George Romero

Magnolia Pictures

Pop films that take on politics tend to do so as an add-on and go all over the place. Since I have come late to zombie films and director George Romero, perhaps I am being unfair to Romero and his Survival of the Dead, the latest of his zombie films, in expecting consistent politics from a gore fest, but perhaps dystopia deserves its due.

The only zombie film I have ever seen—if “seen” can mean glimpsed out of the corner of a fearful child’s eye—was a production rerun on afternoon television sometime in the 1950s, in my case, to keep children content while they waited for a school bus. However, like Romero, I was a fan of pre-code horror comic books. A gloomy disposition predisposes me to dystopia. With this risk factor, perhaps I was slated to become zombie food.

The movie takes place in the near future in which a disease has conferred a horrid form of immortality on the dead. National Guardsman Sarge (Alan Van Sprang) is on killing duty in the morgue, where bodies spring to murderous life. A fellow Guardsman who refuses to shoot a buddy-turned-zombie is summarily executed; Sarge and a few comrades say enough already—actually, “I didn’t sign up for this”—and go AWOL into a lawless United States, where the only protection is individual armed self-protection, but nighttime comics telling zombie jokes can still be downloaded on a PC. Surviving as thieves, Sarge and his band are busy not only killing zombies coming back to life, but also dealing with the generalized violent breakdown of society.

After a confrontation with another band of renegades, a young man (Devon Bostick) who survives the encounter (and provides some additional snarky, intergenerational conflict) joins up with them to take off in an armored van with a safe full of money. The posse ends up heading for Plum Island (ostensibly off the coast of Delaware, though the film was shot in Canada) because an Internet huckster, Patrick O’Flynn, is luring social outcasts, now much of the population, there to rob them. O’Flynn has been exiled from the island as a result of a long-standing family feud with another clan. (How two Irish clans got on this island in the first place is left unexplained, but there are hints of religious fundamentalism and right-wing survivalism.) A great subplot is the hopeless courting of the lesbian tomboy by her would-be Latin lover/comrade in arms and the genuine nonsexual affection between them.

Romero is quoted as saying the movie is about war, but it could as easily be about too permissive gun laws justified by the Second Amendment. Or out-of-control conflicts over different strategies for dealing with a serious threat—the overlay of the feud. Or it could just be a corkboard for any one-off social commentary—about professional salaries or the narrow perspectives of small towns—that can be stuck in a spot in the plot.

The real Plum Island, off the coast of Long Island, is the site of the federal Animal Disease Center run by the Department of Homeland Security, and at one time a secret bio-weapons research facility. There, any wild mammal is said to be shot on sight. This is O’Flynn’s solution to the zombie problem, while his rival, Muldoon, wants to rehabilitate them.

“Zombie”—as in banks—is fast becoming an overused metaphor. In the book Imaginal Machines, cultural theorist Stevphen Shukaitis presents an analysis of the capitalist transformation of human workers into labor power, living into dead labor; cooptation/recuperation of social movements into nightmare versions of themselves; and the question of whether such altered movements could be truly revitalized or need to be put out of their misery—all strung, along with their sources, on the extended metaphor of zombification.

Personally, I like zombies better as the main attraction, when they are actors in heavy makeup “getting their brains” blown out in movies; and when social commentary, however scattershot, is the sideshow.

Written by: Frances Chapman, June 10th 2010

Ondine

admin — Fri, 07 May 2010 16:01:00 +0000

Directed by Neil Jordan

Magnolia Pictures

Ireland's coast with its cloudy allure and spectacular beauty provides a considerable level of mystic in Colin Farrell's latest film. Ondine tells the story of fisherman Syracuse (Farrell) after he catches a woman in his nets. She miraculously chokes and stammers back to consciousness to both her and his surprise. Her entrance into his life sets off a series of events altering their lives in unimaginable ways.

Syracuse's daughter, Annie, is convinced the woman (Ondine) is a Silkie, a mythical creature from the sea. Her enduring belief in the fantasy begins to affect both Syracuse and Ondine. The two begin a romance that adds to the dreamlike feeling of the story, until reality literally crashes in on them. It doesn't seem clear if everyone will live happily ever after or not.

Writer/Director Neil Jordan did an excellent job scouting the location for the film. From the opening scenes of the film the Irish landscape took on a character all its own. The green hills combined with the haunting look of the sea combine to create a feeling of enchantment.

References to various well-known fairytales were not subtle throughout the script. Mermaids, Snow White, and Alice and Wonderland were all mentioned to make sure the audience understands the fictitious premise of the film. Even the villain enters like a bogeyman with ominous music playing when we first see him.

I'm not convinced we need another fairytale-meets-real-life movie. Especially one that follows the formula of a woman being put in danger because of a man and then said woman is saved by a man. This type of plot line puts the title character into a passive role that depends on the actions of the male characters. Ondine continues to perpetuate the illusion that if a woman finds the right man everything will work out for the best.

Adding to the damsel in distress scenario, Ondine portrays a sexualized innocence. This is made clear in one scene when she is frightened while steering the boat. She hunkers down in a ball and reaches a bare leg for the steering wheel. We see Syracuse watching her from a camera angle aimed through her legs in an attempt to be sensual, but it left me feeling uncomfortable. Her fear was apparent, which doesn't seem like a great time to emphasize her sexual appeal.

A truly bright spot in the film is Annie. She suffers from kidney failure and is sometimes relegated to a wheelchair. Despite these setbacks, her spirit is full and strong making her the character to admire. She exhibits independence and curiosity that is often stifled in young girls. It is her tenacity that kept me interested in the progression of the film. Alison Barry, the young actress who played Annie, did an amazing job, especially considering this was her first film.

Although I'm not overly enthusiastic about the premise of the film, I do think it was well made. The setting and some of the performances keep Ondine from drowning. However, I recommend waiting for the DVD and watching the film when you are in the mood for fantasy.

Ondine recently premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival and will be out in limited release June 4th.

Written by: Andrea Hance, May 7th 2010

Big Man Japan

admin — Fri, 15 May 2009 14:14:00 +0000

Directed by Hitoshi Matsumoto

Magnolia Pictures

The experience of watching Big Man Japan, directed by and also starring Hitoshi Matsumoto, is akin to the pleasure of watching a five-year-old running on a child-size hamster wheel in the park. One alternates between confusion, amusement, and boredom as the aesthetic combines and alternates between the humor of a Hollywood slapstick, the visual dynamic of a video game, and the tone of a documentary. This rhythm kept my mind clear to wonder: why is it that movies seeking to illustrate male impotence give the man longer than is generally considered socially acceptable hair and female friends—if any friends at all?

In Big Man Japan, Matsumoto tells the story of the current Big Man; part soldier, part icon, it is the job of the Big Man to protect Japan from monsters. Living in his regular size, of an average height, when on call, the Big Man is zapped into enormity when needed. However, the superhero’s identity is not a secret, and as his popularity wanes, his fence is scrawled with graffiti, and his lawn is covered with trash. Rocks are thrown through his window, to which the Big Man responds by meekly covering the broken panes with cardboard and going about his day. The central character of this film, although a larger-than-life male, is meant to be perceived as a woman as opposed to a big man—weak, sentimental, and incompetent.

Standing in stark contrast is the other character in the movie, a woman. Perpetually trying to make money, the Big Man’s agent—a harpy in either high heels or pimping tracksuit, complete with a pair of larger-than-life dogs and too-cool-for-school stance—objectifies him by placing endorsements across his chest. At a potential turning point in the film, he declares to his disinterested agent, “No matter what, I will never surrender my hips” completing the image of impotence the viewer has already formed of him. The battle is won, the endorsement is placed on his back, but he is thoroughly emasculated.

While there are mounting covert and overt sexual and political references throughout the film, all of them are magnified by the documentary tone set by the filmmakers. The film runs as snippets placed together to create a narrative around this hero who is anything but.

Written by: Elisheva Zakheim, May 15th 2009