There are movies that get high school wrong (She's All That) and movies that get high school right (The Breakfast Club), and then there are movies that transform the high school experience into a slightly surreal parable that remains true to its subject matter, if not necessarily factual. Which is to say that Brick, which fits into this third category, is a movie not about the kids who attend any high school I’ve seen before. To wit, I wish I’d known someone as self assured and street smart as Brendan when I was in high school. Nonetheless, the idea of my own high school experiences is echoed in Brick far more than in the Hollywood clichés that drive the aforementioned She’s All That and its many inbred celluloid cousins.
Speaking of genres: much is made of this movie’s homage to the film noir movies of the ’40s and ’50s (indeed, I can easily believe that Brendan is the sort of kid Sam Spade would’ve been had he attended high school in the year 2006, and, furthermore, Brick resembles The Big Sleep, The Maltese Falcon, et al., in no way more than in its hastily resolved, vaguely scattershot—but nonetheless entirely satisfying—third act) but it is so much more than just a clever riff on the conventions of a genre that has been underutilized by Hollywood these past few decades. And this underutilization is a shame, because Brick proves that film noir can be played straight (i.e, traditionally, unlike other recent noirish films such as Memento, Mulholland Dr., Sin City, etc.) without needing to be wedded to its conventions too strictly. This movie is shot in color, most scenes take place in the daytime, there are no dark alleys or tall buildings, there’s very little smoke (though cigarettes do play an important role in the film), and at no point is anyone’s face or body illuminated by the horizontal bars of light breaking through the slats of a venetian blind. These, of course, are the superficial trappings we think of when we think of film noir. But Brick focuses instead on the more substantial themes of film noir. An overwhelming sense of nihilism saturates the entire film, and Brendan is surrounded by dozens of amoral, cold, stonefaced characters whose only emotional outlets are rage and lust—and even these are experienced sparingly. It’s interesting to note that in a movie dealing with both the sale and use of drugs, no one gets high onscreen.
Beyond the movie’s trappings, it is the actors who make the movie truly worthwhile. Joseph Gordon-Levitt (of 3rd Rock from the Sun fame) as Brendan is practically unrecognizable—in a good way—and Lukas Haas gives his best performance since Mars Attacks! Of course, one of the keys to a successful film noir is its femme fatale, and Brick shines in this respect with Nora Zehetner (who currently plays Eden in the TV show Heroes, and who could easily play Summer’s twin sister on The O.C.) as Laura. Granted, she looks a little old to be a high school student, but then I remember plenty of girls in high school who seemed like they should already be in college.
To sum up, Brick is easily one of the best movies I’ve seen in years.
Hard Candy is so insane that I find I can only discuss it through the context of other works of art. In terms of content/subject matter, imagine Ms. 45 with a stronger, younger, not-mute protagonist and only one antagonist (or two, depending on whether you include off-screen characters). In terms of the rollercoaster of emotions this film took me on, I can only compare it to David Mamet’s nausea-inducing play Oleanna: Who is right? Who’s wrong? Both of them? Is it the dude? Aaaah! (Of course, in Hard Candy we learn who’s right, but until the third act I wasn't sure which of the two main characters was more crazy and/or sick.) And last but not least, if you see this movie, and you get to The Scene, and you find yourself reaching for the remote to turn it off and spare yourself the agony of watching it, I offer this advice: Just keep telling yourself you’re not watching Audition. That’s it. I can say no more, because I’m still reliving this movie too much for my own comfort.
Well, okay, one last thing: Hard Candy has the most evocative poster. It tells you absolutely everything you need to know about the film.
Philip K. Dick is one of my favorite authors. By no means do I consider him one of the best writers of the twentieth century; even some of his best books are flawed, and I haven’t read a handful of his lesser known works because I’m just not interested in them. But The Transmigration of Timothy Archer, Ubik, The Man in the High Castle, Counter-Clock World (to say nothing of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, “We Can Remember It for You Wholesale,” “Minority Report,” etc.) are books that have stayed with me, vividly, since the time I read them. A Scanner Darkly is another such work.
So how was the movie? I was happily surprised. I’d been worried that both the rotoscoping animation and Keanu's presence would irritate me. On the contrary, the "primary color" animation worked quite well considering it's a story about a bunch of addicts who spend most of their time high, and Keanu was perfect as Bob Arctor. I don't know why I'm always expecting him to piss me off in his movie roles, since I so often find myself liking him. I guess I still blame him for his crappy "work" in Dracula (a personal favorite of mine despite Keanu’s presence) and Much Ado About Nothing, etc. The real star of the movie, though, is Robert Downey Jr., who was MADE to play Jim Barris. Downey was both hilarious and frightening in all the right ways. The movie itself was a bit truncated considering the depths into which the novel delves, but Richard Linklater was slavishly loyal to the source material and if anything he made the movie more coherent than the book (which, it could be argued, misses the point of the book, but I would disagree). The movie’s also a lot more effective in bringing out the humor of the book than the book itself is, at least in my opinion (again, mostly, thanks to Downey’s presence). I'd recommend the movie wholeheartedly, whether you know anything about the book or not.
A side note: Although I would consider this a film in which Keanu succeeds because it is one in which he’s “in his element” (as opposed to the above mentioned Dracula or Much Ado...), it's interesting to note that he's the one principal actor in the movie who hasn't suffered from any serious notoriety in terms of drug use. Woody “let’s make hemp legal” Harrelson, Robert “I passed out in my 8-year-old neighbor’s bed” Downey Jr., and Winona “what’s a valid prescription?” Ryder have all had their problems with the law. Heck, even Rory Cochrane (the stoner from Dazed and Confused) may not have gotten into any trouble that I’m aware of, but he's certainly well known for his perfection of the “stoner” image in independent films. And yet, nowhere in the DVD’s extras do any of the actors discuss the subject of drugs or drug addiction (i.e., the subject of the movie). Talk about ignoring the elephant in the room....
Despite the lurid poster for this movie, it’s not what you might expect. I Am a Sex Addict is a funny, self-effacing, shamelessly autobiographical, and incredibly touching film about a guy who wants to find love, but who goes about it the wrong way for about, oh, twenty years or so. Oddly, the film’s main character (who is also the filmmaker, since it’s so autobiographical as to be almost a documentary) has a lot in common with Rob of High Fidelity. He keeps finding love in his relationships, but he continuously discards this love because he’s afraid he’s “missing something.”
What makes the movie so entertaining, though, is its format. It’s completely low budget (at one point the filmmaker—who also serves as the principal actor since it’s a movie about his own life—breaks the fourth wall to explain that the scene we’re watching is supposed to take place in Paris, but he couldn’t afford to film it in Paris, so could we just pretend he’s in Paris instead of Brooklyn?) but Caveh Zahedi is such a likable, goofy guy that his performance blinds us to amateurish production values (for the most part, anyway). And to bring authenticity to the story, he shows us old film footage of the actual women he dated who are, in the docudrama portions of the film, portrayed by actors. I won’t tell you the ending, but I will say that it literally brought tears to my eyes. I’d recommend this one if you enjoy truly independent movies and don’t mind a little nudity here and there.
Last—and least—I watched Elektra last night. This was a sequel, of sorts, to Daredevil, the absolute worst superhero movie I’d seen since The Punisher (the Dolph Lundgren version, circa 1989). A friend of mine, who doesn’t read comics and does not realize how invested I am in the character Daredevil (he was, and will always be, my favorite superhero character thanks to Frank Miller), recommended Elektra to me. This recommendation stemmed from our mutual appreciation of Jennifer Garner as Sydney in Alias.
Suffice to say Elektra was not a good movie. I’m not one of those comic readers who geeks out when a movie doesn’t adhere to a character’s origin and/or motivations. If the cinematic interpretation is good then I’m all for it (e.g., the first two X-Men movies). But in this film, Elektra’s motivations were incomprehensible. And, okay, I claimed I don’t geek out when things don’t adhere to the comic but when the hell did Typhoid Mary become a member of the Hand? Did I miss something???
Sorry, that’s my one and only geek-out. I swear. Anyway, the movie sucked eggs. Jennifer Garner did look good in the red outfit, though.
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