Showing posts with label Samuel L. Jackson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Samuel L. Jackson. Show all posts

Friday, March 11, 2016

Film Friday: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2014)

I’m back! I admit the ads for this one intrigued me. This movie was sold as a tongue-in-cheek knock-off of James Bond with traces of Vin Diesel’s XXX and Samuel L. Jackson as the villain. What could go wrong with that? Well, what I got instead was a British white trash rip-off of Men in Black without the aliens.

Plot

The story opens with a spy being killed and another (Colin Firth as agent Galahad) breaking the news to his wife and young son. Firth works for a privately run “Secret Service” based out of a tailor shop in London, with a training base in the same castle used by Professor Xavier to train the X-Men. Their agents all wear uptight British-cut suits and old-lady glasses and carry umbrellas. They are essentially caricatures of British “gentlemen.” And they use a variety of gadgets, each of which you’ve seen in James Bond movies.

As an aside, I’m sure that the use of these gadgets and a handful of scenes taken from Bond movies will be described as “an homage,” but they really aren’t used in any creative way to suggest anything other than pilferage.
Anyways, the son’s name is Eggsy. Flash forward. Eggsy is now firmly ensconced British white trash. He can’t speak the English language in any recognizable way. His mother is a welfare whore. He drinks, fights in bars and steals cars. The pride of modern Britain. Firth, who thinks he owes Eggsy because of what his father did, bails Eggsy out of jail and enters him in the Kingsman training program, where he naturally doesn’t fit in with the other snooty trainees. Insert obligatory “bad rich guys mock Eggsy and heroine steps up to defend him” scene.
Meanwhile, in the plot: Samuel L. Jackson, who plays a lispy billionaire who wants to save the world by destroying it, starts kidnapping or co-opting famous people and celebrities. Firth investigates and immediately narrows his suspect list to Jackson because Jackson is the only possible suspect. As he and Jackson then trade uninspired and obvious innuendo telling the other they know what the other is, Eggsy goes through his training montage in a series of scenes you’ve seen in dozens of other films. Meanwhile, Firth acts like he’s doing something. Finally, Eggsy soon teaches us that white trash is tougher than effete rich Brits.

Yawn

//swills beer, knifes someone Oy! This movies sucks! It’s boring and predictable. It’s a pure rip off through and through. And it’s annoying to watch. There isn’t a single moment in this film which is surprising. There are a few things that are supposed to surprise us, like Jackson being a villain who faints at the sight of blood, but that’s a minor idea which the writer wrongly thinks is strong enough to carry the film.

The plot itself is so worn that it’s threadbare. How many times have you seen the young man who is brought into a plot by a friend of his dead father? How many times have you see a training plot that involves the hero start out as the student most likely to fail out, who gets picked on by the rich white males everyone thinks are the best but is defended by the hot chickie co-star, who then shows up the rich white males (who are secret cowards) while proving his natural talent makes him the best, only to decide to quit over some hidden pain, only to come back when his mentor gets killed and everyone is cool letting him lead the team to a victory at the end of the movie. Nope, never seen that before.
Jackson plays an insane villain. Been there, done that a million times. The hot chick turns out to be just as good as the hero and they hook up. Been there, done that too. The boss double-crosses the hero because he secretly works for the villain. Check. There’s a final fight at the villain’s lair that plays out by the numbers. Check. The hero wins because the villain does something stupid which lets him overcome an entire army of henchmen. Check. Yawn.

You get the point.

This movie is Men in Black with the British trash kid in the Will Smith role and Colin Firth in the Tommy Lee Jones role. Unfortunately, whereas that movie thrived on Smith’s fish out of water learning to fit in role and the great chemistry between Smith and Jones, this film fails miserably on both counts. Trash and Firth have zero chemistry. It’s like watching two dead fish lying side by side when they interact. And whereas Smith was endearing in how he learned that the world was bigger than he thought, Trash spends his time showing us that he’s got bigger balls than the rest of the f**ing world! Oy! It’s annoying.
And speaking of annoying, this movie’s politics suck. At first, you wonder if the film might not be conservative because the villain is an environmentalist who wants to kill humanity to save the earth. That sounds like a conservative criticism, but I think the writer just thought they were being “outrageous” in picking an “impossible” villain. The rest of the movie has very different politics. At one point, you get to watch the members of a racist white American church kill each other and you’re supposed to revel in seeing Firth kill them all off. The rich white male candidates are shown to be deceitful, shameful cowards who scream about who they know, whereas the white trash boy is made the hero without reforming any of his nasty traits. Rich = effete. White trash = pure. Ditto on the rich elites who sign up voluntarily with Jackson’s plan to kill off the rest of humanity. There are anti-Thatcher references, anti-police statements, anti-Americanism, and so on.
This film felt to me like it was written by someone from a British low-class community who wanted to make an over-the-top attack on the people who “is f**in keepin me down oy!”, but knew to throw in a handful of Hollywood liberalisms to get it made. And what they did was take a plot they’d seen a million times and fill it with anything they could steal from other movies. Everything – the gadgets, the characters, the locations, the scenes, the plot points, the overall plot itself, etc. – is stolen from some other movie. It’s boring, derivative and insulting.

This one sucked.

Thoughts?
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Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Guest Review: Die Hard with a Vengeance (1995)

By ScottDS
Now that we’ve discussed the first two films, let’s take a look at Die Hard with a Vengeance. I’ve always felt this film was underrated and, in fact, it’s probably one of the last “analog” action films. It’s also a lot of fun.

In New York City, a terrorist bomber known as Simon (Jeremy Irons) demands that John McClane (Bruce Willis) stand on a Harlem street corner wearing an offensive sandwich board or he’ll blow up another building. Shopkeeper Zeus Carver (Samuel L. Jackson) tries to get him off the street before he’s killed. After being ordered to play along, McClane – with Zeus in tow – is put through a series of games before it’s revealed that Simon is actually Simon Peter Gruber, brother of Hans Gruber whom McClane killed in the first film. Like his brother, Simon is after money, this time the gold in the Federal Reserve. Simon and his men are using dump trucks to transport the gold and McClane and Zeus are caught after tracking them down to a tanker. They escape before the tanker explodes but McClane theorizes that Simon must’ve absconded with the gold to Canada, per the address label on the aspirin bottle Simon gave to him earlier. They raid Simon’s hideout and McClane shoots a power line, which causes Simon’s helicopter to explode.
I’ve always liked this movie. The pacing feels a little off at first, like there was something cut except there wasn’t anything cut. Also, the helicopter climax almost feels like it belongs in another movie. This is, in fact, the only Die Hard movie based on an original screenplay, though it wasn’t intended to be a Die Hard movie. It was originally titled Simon Says. Screenwriter Jonathan Hensleigh once asked himself (I’m paraphrasing), “What would happen if, when I was younger, I hit a kid with a rock? The kid wasn’t killed but the grudge he held against me completely warped him and he spent the rest of his life trying to get back at me?” The first half of the film resembles that script, with the Gruber connection signaling the transition to Die Hard territory.

This is a buddy cop movie, with Willis paired with Samuel L. Jackson. Willis is in fine form here. McClane is a borderline alcoholic and he and Holly haven’t spoken in months. I understand why the filmmakers made this choice but I can't help but feel that their marriage troubles almost negate everything that was accomplished in the first two films, where the relationship was what kept everything grounded (more or less). His humor is a little darker and a little more sly, with less one-liners this time around. Jackson is excellent as Zeus, who becomes a reluctant participant in the proceedings.
There is a racism subtext but it’s mostly played for laughs. Zeus clearly has a problem with white people and only saved McClane because he didn’t want the neighborhood raided by “white cops, all with itchy trigger fingers.” McClane calls him out which leads to one of my favorite bits when Zeus thinks McClane is gonna call him the n-word but he wasn’t. “What were you gonna call me?” “A--hole!” Willis and Jackson have great chemistry and, like partners in every buddy cop movie, they eventually learn to get along.

John McTiernan returns to the director’s chair and while this film isn’t as stylish as the first one, there is an authentic look to this film. It’s New York as New Yorkers see it. In the opening montage, you see city streets, pedestrians, food carts, etc. You don’t see the typical New York movie landmarks: there’s no beauty shot of the Empire State Building or Grand Central Terminal. There’s a real gritty feel to this film. One thing I appreciate is the extras. Look at the people in the background – they all look the part, complete with trademark NYC indifference. Another quick gag I appreciate is the harried 911 call center supervisor whose shirt is three sizes too small. McTiernan applies many of the same tricks to this film as he did to the first one including full use of the widescreen 2.35:1 aspect ratio (these films look awful in pan and scan) and establishing characters through camera movement as opposed to cutting.

Jeremy Irons is clearly having a blast (pun intended) as Simon. We only hear his voice for the first act but his physical introduction is quite memorable. From an extremely high angle, we see the various police and government officials spread out to find the latest bomb. The camera pulls up and turns around to find Simon on a rooftop. He has only one line: “They bought it.” He's all business but he manages to do it with a smile. Admittedly, most of his henchmen don’t make much of an impression, save for Nick Wyman as Targo, a giant of a man, and the lovely Katya, played by rock singer Sam Phillips. Ironically, she’s mute in the film but she is an imposing presence, slitting throats like nobody’s business in one wonderfully-choreographed shot. Just imagine a fascist Mirror Universe version of Rosie the Riveter.
The supporting cast features some familiar faces. Soap opera actor Larry Bryggman plays McClane’s superior, Inspector Cobb. He’s soft-spoken but very direct and you believe he can boss around Bruce Willis. McClane’s fellow detectives are played by Graham Greene (as Lambert) and Colleen Camp (as Kowalski). McTiernan regular Anthony Peck plays another detective, Walsh. (Peck also appeared in the first film as a cop and Red October as the executive officer of the Dallas. He sadly passed away in 1996.) Kevin Chamberlin plays Charlie, the geeky bomb expert who is ready to sacrifice himself to save hundreds of schoolchildren.

Man, even the character names are spot-on: Cobb, Lambert, Kowalski, Walsh. I know it’s trivial but I’m a stickler when it comes to this stuff and some names sound more authentic than others. I also appreciate the teamwork aspect of this film. While McClane and Zeus are hunting down Simon, the other cops are searching schools for a bomb. At the time, Willis felt he should’ve been the one on the scene defusing the bomb but the story simply didn’t lend itself to that. Like the second film, the canvas has expanded once again: from one building to one airport to one city. If you compare it to the first film, then you might be disappointed in that regard but I believe it stands on its own. In this case, McClane and Zeus are given a specific set of tasks – they might be in NYC but they can't exactly go anywhere they please.
Again, tech aspects are mostly top-notch, though there are a couple of wonky effects shots. I’m not familiar enough with every part of NYC but I do know that you can't access the subway simply by picking up a grate from the sidewalk! For this film, Michael Kamen eschews European composers and goes with something a little more American: “When Johnny Comes Marching Home” which could be a reference to McClane being on his home turf but is also a nod to Dr. Strangelove. I also need to mention the car chase through Central Park, with McClane driving a cab to the Wall Street subway station before another bomb goes off. As one critic said, “Only John McTiernan could make a car chase exciting with only one car!” This film was made when cell phones were becoming ubiquitous and screenwriter Hensleigh admits on the DVD commentary that this aspect of the film embarrasses him. Sometimes you need to make your hero unable to contact his superiors and nowadays that means bad reception!

Again, this film is seriously underrated. It made a ton of money but as we look back through time, it’s been lost in the shuffle somewhere, having come out a year after Speed and True Lies and a year before Mission: Impossible and The Rock – all entertaining action films from the 90s that are still talked about. It was also the third film in a series, though the law of diminishing returns doesn’t apply since many people prefer it to the second one. I like them both just fine!

“As I was going to St. Ives / I met a man with seven wives / Every wife had seven sacks / Every sack had seven cats / Every cat had seven kittens / Kittens, cats, sacks, wives / How many were going to St. Ives?”

P.S. To hear more about John McTiernan’s filmmaking philosophy straight from the horse’s mouth, click here.
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Friday, April 1, 2011

Film Friday: Pulp Fiction (1994)

Pulp Fiction is brilliant. It’s easily one of the greatest films of all time. As proof, I could offer its massive box office totals, its continuing heavy rotation on television seventeen years after its release, or its ability to revive sagging careers. I could point out that its scenes have become iconic, its dialog has entered our lexicon, and no one has been able to mimic the film. Or I could just tell you what makes this movie so special. In a word: manipulation.

** spoiler alert **

Movies are all about manipulation. Filmmakers are in the business of tricking audiences into believing that actors on fake sets are real people in a real world. And that’s just the beginning. Good filmmakers need to make you care about the characters. Great filmmakers go further and manipulate how you interpret what you see to teach you something you didn’t know about yourself. Pulp Fiction does that, only at a level no one else has achieved.
1. Twisted Clichés: What Clichés?
When Quentin Tarantino wrote Pulp Fiction, his intent was to take well-worn pulp fiction ideas and twist them. Hence, you have the hitman who develops a conscience, the underling who must chaperone the boss’s over-sexed wife, the returning POW who tells a boy about his lost father, and the boxer who takes a dive. These are clichés. But we don’t recognize them as clichés in Pulp Fiction because Tarantino manipulates our expectations to turn these into original-seeming stories. In other words, we all know the hitman must kill his boss or die, we never expect him to simply leave the film. We all know the boxer will put up the fight of his life against incredible odds, we never expect him to kill the other boxer with ease. . . and we never expect him to run into someone like Zed as he’s fleeing from the mobster he betrayed. By spinning these clichés off in directions we’ve never considered before, Tarantino gives us a movie based on clichés but which almost no one in the audience will recognize as containing any clichés. That's impressive.
2. Film Chronology: How Does It End Again?
From there, Tarantino further spins our heads by rearranging the film’s chronology. We’ve discussed before that the human brain is perfectly suited to reassembling a series of events that are presented out of order. Thus, you know exactly what is happening when I say: peanut butter, eat, knife, bread, lunch. Storytellers know this and often indulge in minor manipulation by presenting something out of sequence, like giving a glimpse of the ending before the story begins. But no one has tried what Tarantino does here. He takes the film and divides it into seven sequences and then reassembles those out of order. In and of itself, that’s highly creative and worth recognition. But he goes further.

Tarantino exploits our expectation that the ending of a film always reveals how the story actually ends. Thus, when Vincent Vega (John Travolta) and Jules Winnfield (Samuel L. Jackson) leave the diner together at the end of the film, the audience assumes they rode off into the sunset. But that wasn’t the end, and people forget that Jules quits and Vincent gets killed in Butch’s (Bruce Willis) bathroom. Yet, this manipulation allows Tarantino to deliver a happy ending, even though the film had no happy ending. Moreover, while people assume that the conversation in the diner relates to everything that happened in the film, very little of what we saw had happened at that point. For example, Vincent had yet to take Marsellus Wallace’s wife to dinner and Marsellus (Ving Rhames) hadn’t met with Butch yet. Thus, many of the things we assume they are reflecting upon have yet to happen, and we are left wondering if Vincent’s opinions would change after those events?
3. Nature of the Film: It’s a Character Study?
But manipulating the film’s plot and chronology only scratches the surface of what is really going on. Would it surprise you if I told you Pulp Fiction is actually a character study?

Most people see Pulp Fiction as a crime story. But it’s really not. What few people realize is how little action takes place within the film. Aside from a few moments of shooting, the entire rest of the film is characters talking about things they believe. Indeed, the characters roam the screen telling us about their morality, their views on religion, love and sex, fairness and equity, their hobbies, etc. What’s more, little of the dialog relates to the plot -- it’s all about the characters themselves. This is almost the definition of “character study.”

Yet, we don’t grasp that this is the true nature of Pulp Fiction because it isn’t filmed like an art house movie. For one thing, the characters don't just sit around in all white rooms spouting pretentious lines. Instead, they get guns out of trunks, wait to kick in doors, buy drugs and a whole host of other “gritty” things. Moreover, the dialog isn’t pretentious; it’s been brought down to “street level.” Thus, you get “do you know what they call a Quarter Pounder with cheese in France?” rather than “One finds that travel broadens the mind.” And you get “I’m about to get Medieval on his ass,” rather than “I feel violated and must find a way to regain my pride.” Because of this, we never grasp that the characters do nothing but talk philosophy throughout the film because it doesn’t register with us that characters who talk like this and who walk around carrying guns aren’t in an action movie.
4. Depth & Mystery From Nothing
Tarantino also cleverly uses a series of MacGuffins to give the story depth. As we noted last week, a MacGuffin is a film term for the item around which all the action in the film is centered, i.e. it’s what everyone wants to steal. Yet, the exact nature of the item is irrelevant to the film as its sole purpose is to motivate the characters’ actions. Thus, a bar of gold could just as easily be a diamond. The audience knows this instinctively and doesn’t get too wrapped up in what the MacGuffin actually is. But Tarantino turns that on its head.

Rather than tossing out an object like a diamond or “the process” and telling the audience, “don’t worry about what it is,” Tarantino turns the MacGuffin into a genuine mystery by giving us clues as to what it might be. Consider the briefcase Marsellus sends Vincent and Jules to retrieve. This briefcase glows gold when it opens and people stare at its contents in awe. They also ask if it really is what they think it is, thereby implying something highly unusual. Yet, we never get to see it. And that creates a mystery, which gives the film depth even though the nature of the MacGuffin is entirely irrelevant to the film. Indeed, people almost immediately start speculating as to what it could be. (FYI, many speculate the briefcase contains Marsellus’s soul, which was extracted from the back of his neck. . . I kid you not.)

Moreover, Tarantino uses multiple MacGuffins throughout the film. Consider the band-aid on the back of Marsellus’s neck. Film audiences have been taught that everything in a film is present for a reason. Thus, when we see the band-aid shown prominently, we expect it to have some meaning. But we never learn what that could be. So like the briefcase, people leave the theater trying to solve the mystery. I would further argue that the film is crawling with MacGuffins, e.g. the watch, Bonnie, “the gimp,” etc., each of which presents a new mystery to consider.

Thus, by manipulating our expectations regarding dialog, props and the use of MacGuffins, Tarantino gives us a character study steeped in mystery, all the while making us think we are watching a fast-paced crime story.
5. Morality: Exposing What We Really Believe
Finally, we come to the most controversial manipulation: morality. Tarantino skillfully exploits two aspects of human morality. First, he realizes our morality doesn't always kick in right away, such as when we laugh at someone slipping on a banana peel. We know this is wrong, but we laugh nonetheless until we can catch ourselves. Tarantino exploits this throughout the film to get us laughing at things we shouldn't laugh at. For example, if you asked people if they would laugh at seeing a man’s head blown off in the middle of a discussion about the occurrence of a genuine miracle, they would emphatically tell you they would not laugh. Yet, everyone in the theater laughed out loud when Vincent accidentally blew Marvin’s head off in the car. The combination of the shock, the comic timing and the characters’ surprised reactions triggered the instinct within us that laughs at the banana peel incident. Some have decried this moment as immoral or as glorifying violence, but if you think about it, we’re the ones with the immoral reaction, i.e. we're the ones laughing.

The same is true when we laugh at Tarantino asking if Vincent and Jules saw a sign on his house that read, “dead n~gger storage,” when Vincent gets shot on the toilet, when Vincent and Lance (Eric Stoltz) argue over saving Mia Wallace (Uma Thurman) from a drug overdose, and when Marsellus “gets Medieval” on Maynard and Zed.

Indeed, this last point is also significant in terms of manipulation. We are told revenge is wrong. We are told capital punishment should apply only in extreme instances where the victim has been killed. And under no circumstances do we tolerate the idea of execution by torture. Yet when we see what happens to Marsellus at the hands of Maynard and Zed, we derive a great deal of joy when Marsellus tells us that he’s about to “get Medieval on their asses.” Thus, we not only condone his decision to kill the two, but we even support his plan to torture them to death. Consequently, Tarantino has exposed hypocrisy within us. We claim to believe certain things, but our reactions show that we may actually believe the opposite. What does this say about us?
Conclusion
This is what sets Pulp Fiction so far apart from other films. This film broke new ground in almost every aspect of its presentation. It sold us clichés without us ever realizing they were clichés. It sold us a character study without us realizing it. It gave us depth and mystery without ever saying a word. And it exposed a flaw within us by showing a gap between what we think we believe and what we really believe.

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