Look at me! I’m updating like a freakin’ madman! Don’t pretend you didn’t notice....
Julie attended a wedding shower this past weekend, and since it was near her parents’ house she stayed there Saturday night. This left me alone in my apartment with nothing much to do except either (a) invite some strippers over and throw a party or (b) watch some movies.
I was really pulling for (a) to happen but (b) triumphed because, unfortunately, I don’t know any strippers. So here’s what I watched:
The Interpreter Entirely indistinguishable from every other quasi-Hitchcock thriller of the “person who’s in the wrong place at the wrong time and subsequently knows too much, then spends the rest of the film trying to outsmart the badguys” variety. Other attempts to match Hitchcock’s mastery of the genre were much more successful in my eyes, particularly The Fugitive (1993), Enemy of the State (1998), and my personal favorite, Sneakers (1992). But this movie wasn’t exactly terrible, I just tend to expect more from Sean Penn.
Immortal (or Immortel if you prefer) Based on the Nikopol Trilogy graphic novel(s) by Enki Bilal, this movie was a little bit Blade Runner, a little bit Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within, and a little bit The Fifth Element (which was, of course, swiped from the comics of Bilal’s Heavy Metal colleague Moebius, as was the set design for much of Blade Runner, natch)—and I’m still not sure what to think of it. I suspect that it will grow on me if I watch it a few more times, but much like Blade Runner it seemed a bit slow and fragmentary (which is to say that a larger story was present but implicit rather than explicit). Blade Runner is my favorite movie of all time, though, so Immortal will probably gain some ground. But for now I remain mostly undecided.
Who’s Your Daddy? I’m a big fan of the farce genre in film and television. Three’s Company was essentially the same story every episode but I loved each and every one. Every farce from Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night to American Pie has been enjoyable to me, as long as they’re well done. So even without knowing too much about it I was looking forward to Who’s Your Daddy? Sad to say it’s the worst movie I’ve seen since Public Enemies.
Havoc America’s (latest) Hollywood sweetheart, Anne Hathaway—of Ella Enchanted and The Princess Diaries fame—took a deliberate turn toward darker roles when she agreed to make Havoc. The problem is that this movie tried to tackle the issues dealt with in movies like Kids and Thirteen (a very good and very frightening movie, in an “I’m glad I’m not a parent” kind of way) and the issues dealt with in movies such as Crash and Grand Canyon, among countless others. In the end, it didn’t succeed in either attempt. The problem is that it was just too “clean.” Unfortunately, this was mostly the fault of Anne Hathaway, I think. Her performance felt like an act—and to a certain degree, if I interpreted the film correctly, it was supposed to feel like an act—but at no point did I believe that her character, Allison, really wanted to be the person she spent the movie trying to be (which is to say a gangsta). At no point in the film was I worried that she really enjoyed doing the things she was doing in order to be “cool.” (Unlike Tracy in Thirteen who rode that crazy train right off the cliff’s edge, and enjoyed every single minute of it.)
Kill Bill, vol. 1 I put off seeing the Kill Bill movies for a long time. Pulp Fiction is one of my favorite movies, but Quentin Tarantino’s output since then has not done much to dazzle me. So all the hype behind Kill Bill concerned me. What were the chances I’d end up hating Tarantino’s latest? Ahem. Allow me to invoke the spirit of Truman Capote’s infamous response to Jack Kerouac’s novel On the Road (“That’s not writing, that’s typing”) by pointing out that revenge isn’t a plot, it’s a word. This movie is nearly two hours long, and at the end of it absolutely nothing of significance had happened. But forget plot, what about character? After those same two hours, I had no idea who the Bride is. And I’m not just talking about her real name (a mystery, by the way, that had no relevance whatsoever). She had no depth, no dimension, and no personality. She resembled nothing so much as a hero from one of those disposable kung-fu flicks from Hong Kong in the ’70s. I can hear Quentin Tarantino’s supporters jeering me now: “That’s the point, dickhead!” Well, that may be the point, but it’s not one worth making. Kill Bill vol. 1 is literally nothing but a string of ultraviolent fight scenes in which people lose their heads to the blade of a samurai sword (and subsequently spray blood out of their neck stumps like lawn sprinklers). The Bride wants revenge. Why? Because her ex-boss/ex-lover killed her fiancé, her friends, and he tried to kill her. Why? Who the fuck cares? Let’s get on with the fighting! Yay! The extended scene in which the Bride takes on O-Ren Ishii’s Crazy 88 reminded me of the scene in Matrix Reloaded when Neo takes on dozens of Mr. Smiths at once. That scene started off cool and exciting, then became repetitive, then dull, then yawn-out-loud boring, and then I had to sit through another three minutes of it before the scene finally, mercifully, ended. I glanced at my watch many times during this movie. Put more plainly: I did not like it.
The Transporter 2 Following up Kill Bill vol. 1 with the sequel to The Transporter only served to strengthen my resolve that Quentin Tarantino’s latest movie(s) are overrated. I would ask a simple question of his devotees: What makes Kill Bill vol. 1 a better film than, say, The Transporter 2? I would argue that the fight scenes in The Transporter 2 were more visually exciting, more deftly choreographed, and more vividly photographed than the fight scenes in Kill Bill vol. 1. More importantly, though, The Transporter 2 contained that thing screenwriting legend William Goldman defined as “a plot.” I’m paraphrasing here, but a plot is “the shit that happens in-between decapitations.” There wasn’t much character development to speak of in The Transporter 2, but at least it provided me with a charismatic protagonist about which I could care, sort of. And there were no neck stump geysers to speak of. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that The Transporter 2 is an example of genius filmmaking. On the contrary, I thought it was only so-so. But even it was better than Kill Bill vol. 1.
Kill Bill, vol. 2 Fortunately, I’m happy to report that the second film was better than the first one. Not far better, mind you, but better. It finally gave me something to care about, and even some characteristic Tarantino moments that weren’t present in Kill Bill vol. 1: the creep-out scene. Some examples: (1) the “cutting off the ear” scene in Reservoir Dogs, the “what the fuck? Is that a dude in black leather? What’s going on here?!?” scene in Pulp Fiction, and, uh, well I can’t think of any creep-out scenes in Jackie Brown but when Louis shot Melanie in the parking lot that was pretty fucked-up. Anyway, when Budd buried the Bride alive in a coffin it freaked my shit out very effectively. But then I’m claustrophobic so that may have facilitated the process. I’m also glad that we were given a few scenes of, uh, what’s it called? oh yeah, dialogue between the principal characters to clue me in as to what was going on and why I should care. I more or less enjoyed the entire sequence in Budd’s trailer with Elle and the Bride. And the ending (from the time the Bride locates Bill’s house) was satisfying. It kept reminding me of Tarantino’s contribution to Four Rooms, though, which is not a compliment.
Kiss Kiss Bang Bang Without a doubt my favorite movie of the weekend. It was quirky, funny, bizarre, and entirely enjoyable. Robert Downey Jr. and Val Kilmer made the perfect buddy-picture team. I loved all the cinematic and narration gags, and I was only slightly confused near the end. I can’t recommend this movie highly enough to people who like their movies with a dash of weirdness in them.
So that was my weekend. How was yours?
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