Movie Review: Saving Mr. Banks (2013)

by Tony Dayoub

Sometimes, the cycle of a film's reception seems to run from praise to backlash and back again even before the movie is released. Such is the fate of Saving Mr. Banks, a charmer of a movie that is also a surprisingly well constructed story about Walt Disney's pursuit for the rights to adapt Mary Poppins from her skeptical author, P.L. Travers (Emma Thompson). Unsurprisingly, most of the pushback stems from the rapacious corporatism many accuse the Disney company of in general and its need to buff up their founder's image to get more specific. I point you to a video by author and occasional movie critic Harlan Ellison for that take on the film, because no one can express it quite as well as he does and because I don't necessarily disagree. Let's just say that yes, Saving Mr. Banks is as much a fairy tale as Disney's animated product tends to be. But I still found it to be a moving film worth visiting and revisiting in the future.

The Other Side of Cinema: Argo (2012) and Seven Psychopaths

by Tony Dayoub

Argo does an outstanding job of establishing both its world and its central conceit in the movie's prologue. Intercutting between documentary footage and the type of comic book frames used in movie storyboards, director Ben Affleck establishes a key fact that will surprise younger viewers, the closeness of the U.S. and its one-time ally Iran in the years just before the dictatorial Shah was forced to flee the country during 1979's Islamic Revolution. Subsequent sequences depicting protesters overrunning the gates of the American embassy are evocative not only of the actual events they cover, but of the recent embassy protests in Benghazi, Libya where Ambassador Chris Stevens was assassinated. Much of what will no doubt fuel Argo's Oscar campaign—or its chances for Best Picture in the minds of Academy voters—is this prescience or timing.

Movie Review: Horrible Bosses (2011)

by Tony Dayoub

Wonder why there's such a press blackout on pre-release reviews for this Friday's Horrible Bosses? Not even the reliable trade papers like Variety of The Hollywood Reporter have posted their thoughts as of this writing. Predictably, it has to do with one very basic reason. This highly anticipated comedy is just not that funny.

Crazy Heart: The Invisible Man Emerges

by Tony Dayoub

With Jeff Bridges a seeming lock for Best Actor in this year's Oscar races, there come the inevitable disclaimers, "Yeah, he deserves one, but this isn't necessarily the performance for which he should be getting it." True that in the past, Oscar has been bestowed on notable actors in second-rate roles as compensation for being overlooked in other more important performances. Most famously, Al Pacino got one for Scent of a Woman (1992) despite three instances (okay, maybe two) in which he could and should have received one for his captivating minimalist performance as Michael Corleone in The Godfather series, forever justifying his irritating inclination to play it big. Indeed, Denzel Washington was another actor who received one of these Oscars for Training Day (2001) when he really deserved it for Malcolm X in the year that Pacino got his award. What no one seems to be saying about Bridges' performance as country singer Bad Blake in Crazy Heart is that in this case, the honor may actually be deserved.


Part of the reason, no doubt, is the "been there, done that" issue that arises when one looks at Crazy Heart and the debt it owes to its predecessor, Tender Mercies (1983). So greatly do the two films stories of aging alcoholic country singers dovetail, it was necessary to cast the latter's Robert Duvall (who won an Oscar for that, concidentally) and throw him a producer credit just to acknowledge the inevitable comparisons between both films.

This is not to diminish the film's warmth and genuine relish in allowing one to observe Blake's self-loathing so closely. Director Scott Cooper presents Blake as a functioning alcoholic who has the old leather-feel of an endearing curmudgeon rather than the off-putting antics of an obnoxious scoundrel. Bridges invites the viewer into his charming sphere of influence much the same way he does his paramour Jean (Maggie Gyllenhaal). He simply turns up the defensive allure an actor must rely on the same way an alcoholic has become accustomed to doing when evading the underlying predicament of his own existence.

This easy charm is what has thus far undercut Bridges chances for recognition. If all of his vastly different performances in great movies—from Duane in The Last Picture Show to the Dude in The Big Lebowski; from Bone in Cutter's Way to Scudder in 8 Million Ways to Die; from the titular Tucker to Max Klein in Fearless—can be made to look so easy, then is it any wonder that it's taken so long for Bridges to be acknowledged? Here, finally, is a role that stands out in an otherwise average film, and perhaps by aiming low Bridges has finally achieved the measure of success he has merited all along.

A Must Read on Miami Vice (2006)

by Tony Dayoub



I don't generally do this, but Jake's humble retraction on Miami Vice over at Not Just Movies is so well expressed that I'm moved to climb to the highest hilltops to recommend everyone go read it.


Here's one particularly potent passage:

The first immediately apparent shift in aesthetic from the show's aesthetic sheen is Mann's willingness to paint Miami as a bit of a carelessly painted-over dump. In his documentary traversing the United States, British author/comedian/actor/renaissance man Stephen Fry found much to love about our country, save for an uproariously brief tour through Miami, which Fry cut short because he so detested it: "It has that feeling of being designed as a holiday paradise," he says of the beach area, "and, indeed, all the dreary things that go with the word 'paradise' -- like palm trees and huge cut-out parrots -- that promise so much and deliver so staggeringly little." Of the city itself, he drawls, "Surely it must have a heart and a soul and a meaning and a kind of delightful center or something, but I've yet to find it."

Mann seems to agree with this assessment of the two distinctly different yet wholly off-putting cityscapes of the Miami-Dade area: the director wrenches the dirty aesthetic of Collateral's night-time hell into the light, an effect analogous to picking up a date in a crowded, dark nightclub and bringing him or her into broad daylight to see the horrible truth of the person you thought was so slick under a blacklight and now realize that you were just looking at a photo negative. His color palette is dominated by a jaundiced yellow; the phrase "this city is dying" typically belongs in the realm of comic books, but by applying it through the visuals Mann subtly communicates the disease spreading through Miami, all the time using this color scheme to undermine the hollow allure of the city.

Impressive take on a movie which so many have misunderstood, and worth checking out by all of my readers. Let Jake know what you think in the comments.

DVD Review: Cassandra's Dream - Serviceable Thriller Mired by Predictable Plot

by Tony Dayoub

Woody Allen's latest European foray, Cassandra's Dream, is a serviceable thriller, with a great cast of British actors. Colin Farrell and Ewan McGregor play Terry and Ian, brothers who are in need of money. Dumb, but noble, Terry needs it to pay off some pretty high gambling debts. Smart schemer Ian, needs it to impress his new girlfriend, Angela (Hayley Atwell) with his latest half-baked investment plan. They turn to rich Uncle Howard (Tom Wilkinson) for help. But Howard takes the opportunity to enlist the boys for a favor of his own. He'll help them IF they get rid of a business partner about to sell him out to the cops over some shady dealings.

Part of the fun here is to see the spectacular cast squirm, manipulate and betray each other through the proceedings. McGregor is particularly oily in his performance, bullying his younger brother into conforming with the plan in order to avoid jeopardizing his new relationship. On the flip side, McGregor is also up to playing his character's naivete, as his actress girlfriend is obviously a golddigging tart already sizing up her next conquest before his eyes. Wilkinson is effective in his brief part, conveying his desperation while not letting the boys' inexperience in crime bring down his own plans. Farrell is the one who's most sympathetic, as his simple-minded gambler, seems to at least have his heart in the right place, if not his head. He generally has noble intentions, wanting to provide for his fiancee, but is unable to shake his gambling addiction.

The main flaw is the predictability of the plot. We've all seen this noir staple before. Sidney Lumet even depicted a variation on this theme to better effect in the superior Before the Devil Knows You're Dead. But where Lumet used pace, setting, and circumstance to affect a tone of believability and surprise, Allen's direction is mired in cliche. For example, out on a date with a coworker, Ian drives past a car broken-down on the side of the road with a woman working under the hood. He turns around to help, and meets his future love, Angela, who will lead him to his inescapable tragic fate. Now, why is it that I, a somewhat nice, average guy, rarely stop to help a stranded driver, yet these cinematic ne'er-do-wells, always do?

Allen is lucky to have actors at his beck and call, most likely because of the reputation he's earned on his older films. But he should slow down his prodigious output and put a little more effort into the stories he's been churning out lately.

Still provided courtesy of Genius Products and The Weinstein Company.