Tag Archives: action

Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer

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MV5BMTgxMDc2NzA4MV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwOTI1NTY0MQ@@._V1__SX1859_SY847_So I went ahead and saw that Silver Surfer movie my own self, which probably anybody could have predicted. For people who have not read the Fantastic Four comic any time in the last forty plus years (e.g., me) or for people who don’t know any comic book fans who have done so and would be not so much thrilled as actively compelled to explain it to you from that perspective (this one, not so much me; but someone, surely!), a plot synopsis.

So, the Fantastic Four are this public superhero team who, you know, save New York. And probably other stuff as well. But mostly New York, because despite the presence of Spider-Man, Daredevil, and the close proximity of the X-Men, it still doesn’t have enough saving going on. (Plus inevitable others of whom I am unaware. Iron Man, right?) And they’re doing their bicker and save New York and maybe get married thing, living out their everyday lives, when this silver guy appears on a surfboard. From space. Which sounds pretty cool, and probably would be, except he’s kind of a dick. To cite a couple of examples, he’s altering peoples’ genetic make-up with his cosmic radiation and digging these giant bowling ball finger holes into the earth, because he’s the Herald of Galactus. Galactus is a giant humanoid in a purple helmet who likes to eat planets. Except, because pretty much everyone realizes that would look exceptionally stupid on a giant movie screen in 2007, he’s a floating cloud full of energy and lightning and stuff. Like V-Ger, but less our fault. So now instead of bickering and maybe getting married and saving New York, they (the Fantastic Four, our nominal stars of the story, right?) have to save the world from being eaten and/or used for a frame of intergalactic ten pins. Well, and bicker, and maybe get married. (Not all of them, as comic book world is not so enlightened as to allow semi-gay or possibly polygynous marriage. Just Mr. Fantastic and the Invisible Woman. Also, since Johnny Storm is her brother, there are incest problems as well. I’m just saying, maybe in this particular case, comic book world has a point.) Also, Dr. Doom (he’s the bad guy from the first movie) is trying to swing this whole devoured planet thing such that he gets more power. And, one supposes, a new planet in the bargain? Because lots of power but floating in the vacuum of space seems like kind of a win/lose.

It was pretty cool. Tightly paced, not hampered by trying to squeeze a complicated origin story and a climactic battle sequence into the same 90 minutes, pretty, funny, and just on the whole entangled with a factor of coolness. Sure, it was no Spider-Man 2, but what is? It definitely topped Spider-Man 3. Now, we pause for two or three years while the writers try to come up with a new way to get Jessica Alba comically naked, and then wrap a movie around it. (I know that sounds a little derogatory, but only if you think that I disapprove of Jessica Alba themed nudity.)

Hot Fuzz

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mv5bmjewmzy2ntgxm15bml5banbnxkftztcwmtg3mdm0mq-_v1_sy999_cr00672999_al_Here’s what I liked about Shaun of the Dead. It was made by people who completely understood the zombie movie genre. They were talented writers, which was also a necessary component, but what made it great was the deep knowledge and respect behind the talent. So when the time came for them to make a semi-parodic action movie, it was unsurprising that I’d want to see it too. A little surprising how long I waited, but these things happen.

Hot Fuzz is exactly what I expected it to be, but then it’s even more than that, too. It’s a parody of action movies, yes. But the characters within the movie, one and all, act and react as though it’s a serious movie with rational underpinnings. So that’s already a good point by itself; most parody movies are simply silly. This is an okay thing, but being serious and still very funny at the same time? The achievement is impressiver, is what I’m trying to say here. Award-winning supercop Shaun (he probably had a different name in Hot Fuzz?) is forcibly transferred to a tiny country village with almost no crime because the London police force just looks bad, next to him. The problem is, nowhere this perfect really exists; and Shaun being the cop he is, sure enough he and his new partner start to uncover the horrible secret behind the postcard perfection. And once uncovered, any good cop is simply obligated to enforce the law, no matter how much violence ensues.

And that, right there, is the secret of the film’s success. Every action movie since Die Hard has had one primary goal in mind. Push the limits. Give audiences more and louder: explosions, car chases, gun fights, blood. More! Cram in as much as possible! But make it believable. There are limits past which people will roll their eyes and make fun. Except, this being a parody, there are no such limits. So it was possible to go over the top, and then laugh derisively and go over the top of that, because it’s a parody and the people will forgive it. This is the movie Jerry Bruckheimer wishes he were allowed to make. Just wait and see if he doesn’t take it as the green light anyhow, and next summer we see the new actioniest movie of all time. I called it here.

Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End

A thing that annoys me is when some movie is advertising itself as the big movie you should see this summer because it’s original and otherwise you’d have no choice but to watch a sequel in this, the “summer of sequels”. Well, guess what, you indie-pretension-wielding jerk? They’re all the summer of sequels. For good or ill, that’s the way it is now, because that’s what people want to see. And what makes it even worse is that you right there on your high and mighty holier-than-thou unique pony? You’ll have a sequel in two years, tops, if there’s money to be had by making one. So shut your piehole and either be a good movie or don’t, but don’t sound like a prat while you’re doing it. You’re not morally superior to any movie out there, and don’t forget it.

Speaking of uncharted seas full of deceit and treachery where it’s impossible to know who you can trust until you’re long since committed and even when you can they’re still more interested in your money than in anything about you as a person, I saw the third Pirates movie, At World’s End. And it was good. Obviously, there were swordfights and naval battles and combinations of the two (and in settings that were clearly designed to say “Top this, if you dare!”) But the true greatness of it was the diverse plots and betrayals. Every character worth mentioning had an agenda, and every agenda was partially compatible and partially incompatible with every other one, such that any two characters together would have common cause enough to double-cross (or triple-cross) any given third. It’s not that it wasn’t confusing, it’s that it was like a roller coaster going in seventeen directions at once. It’s far more interesting to just relax and see what happens next than to figure out what’s around any particular corner ahead of time.

My only complaint is that Johnny Depp seemed like he didn’t have much to do. The movie was obviously not about Jack Sparrow anymore, and that character needs to have center stage, or else he starts to look as ridiculous as he would if you met him walking down the street in your neighborhood. Luckily, I don’t see that being an issue again if there’s one more sequel. (There might be one more sequel. There probably won’t be more additional ones than that.)

Shooter

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As winter ebbs into spring, so too do a young man’s fancies turn from horror movies to action movies. (Okay, that’s just not true, I could watch a new horror movie every day and, save for the effort of reviewing everything, not get tired of it. But that is kind of the cycle that Hollywood thrusts upon us on average, and so here we are.) Anyway, the first action movie of the season that I’ve noticed is Shooter, in which Mark Wahlberg [SPOILER ALERT!!!] shoots people. See? Totally an action movie.

Of course, I was nearly derailed right at the beginning, when our hero’s military partner was named Donnie. But I recovered from that bit of amusement (luckily, there were no Dirks) and settled into a pretty engrossing action drama. See, this sniper guy has retired from the military because of a difference of opinion between him and a commanding officer about whether he should have been left behind without support during an illegal incursion into another country. (He was against it, you see.) So now that he’s living the quiet isolationist mountain lifestyle with a lot of guns and a dog and no human contact, Danny Glover decides that he actually has gotten too old for this shit, and it’s time to contract out saving the President’s life to someone else. See, some other awesome sniper is about to assassinate our gunnery seargent’s estranged commander in chief, and only an equally awesome sniper can figure out how he’ll do it, so they can stop him. Except, Danny was always lying about that age thing, and is instead a bad guy setting up someone to take the fall after the assassination. Luckily, Marky Mark somehow manages to survive the first fifteen minutes and then enlists the help of a hot red-headed chick and an idealistic FBI agent to trace down the conspiracy and get his life back.

Except, he finds out that it goes All The Way To The Top! (No, not really. The President is not targetting himself. I promise.) Anyway, there’s lots of fugitive-y stuff, a fair amount of wargames and shooting, the occasional sniping, a helicopter explosion worthy of having been accomplished by James Bond, and also cool conspiracy elements like I mentioned previously. My only complaint is that I liked the dark ambiguous ending to the film that occurred about seven minutes before the actual ending better than the one that preceded the credits. But the explosion and the hot redhead make up for that, so.

TMNT

The problem with not reviewing things right after you finish consuming them is that you run the risk of acquiring a debilitating sports injury and having a hard time remembering what you might have wanted to say through the haze of pain, tiredness, and general malaise that accompanies such events. But, y’know, through such tribulations I forge ahead.

So, it was like this. On Sunday, I went to see the new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie with a few of the guys and mostly the kids. It was a kid friendly movie, of course, in that there were lots of kid-laughs that tended to make me roll my eyes, but it definitely had a little bit of depth shining through the stylized art and sporadic comic relief. A couple of paralleled but different takes on the meaning of family and teamwork, thoughts on vigilantism, good hint-dropping for a sequel, plus all kinds of mutant ninjas vs. regular ninjas vs. regular mutants three-way combat action. If that’s not enough to convince you but you’re still fan in general, I should point out that this is clearly Raphael’s movie. Since he’s the best one, that should persuade any remaining foot-draggers.

300

I find that I haven’t got much to say about 300. I think this is because everything that you need to know about it, you already knew long before you ever entered the theater. It’s a historical tragedy, which means that everyone is going to die. But it’s a Greek historical tragedy, which means that none of them will mind dying, because all that talk about your name being remembered down through the ages was actually true in those days, for those people. So, death and glory; the rest is just the details.

However, it must be acknowledged that the details were quite awesome. At least, they were after the plodding introductory exposition on the youth of King Leonidas of Sparta had finally run its course. Lots of cheesecake and beefcake? Check. Creepy giants and hunchbacks and monsters that would not look out of place in a Resident Evil videogame? Check. Political intrigue? Absolutely. Piles and piles of bloody violence? You’re damn right. Stilted dialogue that sounds like it could have been written 3,000 years ago? Well, but that’s kind of a feature, right? Unfortunate imagery that forces comparisons to Gladiator? Well, you can’t win ’em all.

On balance, it pleases me that these graphic novels are being written, and it pleases me that they’re being adapted. There are other reasons, but the fact that Stylized Comic-Book Movie is a genre that still feels fresh and new would be reason enough all by itself.

Ghost Rider

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And now I will demonstrate the usefulness of lowered expectations. Going into Ghost Rider, I expected a big pile of badness surrounding some enjoyable special effects. The special effects were, as predicted, pretty enjoyable. Of course, the fact that they can be in a February movie says more about the current state of the art than it does about the care taken on this particular project. But my sense of wonder has not yet faded on this axis, so I’ll let that part slip by unnoted. Then there’s the plot and the acting.

Acting first, as it’s easier. The scenery-chewing characters chewed scenery appropriately. (The Devil, the animatronic actual Ghost Rider, the bad guy, etc.) Sam Elliot made the best of his restrictive archetypal role. Eva Mendes made the best of her role as Bringer of the Cleavage. And Nicolas Cage played per usual. Any time he tried to be funny or dramatic, I was forced to cringe. Any time he tried to be soulful, he was fine. Best of all, though, any time he didn’t really try to be anything, he was pretty good. Especially with deadpan humor, possibly because he wasn’t told it would be funny? I really don’t get how he can be so hit or miss, but he definitely had some amount of hit on this one, which helped a lot.

And then there’s the plot. Well, really, the two plots. They’re inextricably tied together, but still pretty distinct despite that. On one hand, you have the origin story. Why did Johnny Blaze decide that jumping motorcycles over things wasn’t enough to get out of life, that he had to melt off his flesh and go all flamey and collect evil souls? How did he get that awesome chain whip? How has it affected his romantic life? Will the cops disapprove? And so forth. This part was pretty good, more engaging than any of the other February Marvel releases I can remember. And on the other hand, you have the story of the Ghost Rider vs. some demons. This was choppy and boring, and the payoff at the climax was too little, too late.

I wish I was in junior high or something right now, because ‘Ghost Rider: A Study in Contrasts’ would make an excellently pompous title.

Smokin’ Aces

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So here’s a discovery. Ever since I started reviewing stuff, I’ve been more apt than previously to only see something I’m pretty excited about seeing. I hadn’t really noticed that trend, until last weekend I went to a movie wholly because someone else wanted to without much impetus of my own, only to discover that I’ve been able to come up with nothing much to say about it for at least three days now. Which is kind of sad when you consider that I still enjoyed it; it just didn’t seem to give me any kind of craggy surface to latch onto and get an impression from.

Smokin’ Aces is one of those collision course films. You take a lot of different characters, wind them up, point them at some common target, and watch the body count start piling up as they inevitably interfere with each other. In this case, magician Buddy “Aces” Israel is the common goal of a number of assassins, a few bail bondsmen, and an FBI protection team after word leaks out that the mob boss Israel is scheduled to testify against has promised to pay a million dollar contract to The Swede when he brings him Israel’s heart. Bloody violence, games of cat-and-mouse and occasional hilarities ensue. Also, it’s the Nevada mob, so there are a lot of hookers.

The film doesn’t have a lot of depth, which is okay; it’s not supposed to. It carries you through sheerly by force of adrenaline. In fact, the only bad thing I can say about it is that the closing reel has enough depth that it feels like part of a different movie. But if you can forgive that, there’s a reasonably star-studded list of journeyman actors and a beltload of bullets to get you from start to finish. If you’re cool enough to get past the velvet rope and the bouncer at the door, that is. It’s just that kind of movie, and it knows it full well.

Casino Royale (2006)

MV5BMTM5MjI4NDExNF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMDM1MjMzMQ@@._V1__SX1859_SY893_As so often promised, James Bond has returned.

And it’s a good return, too. Casino Royale has a Bond that, at the beginning of the movie, isn’t even a Double-Oh agent yet. I spent a little bit of time in skepticality, but there was a single moment in the first action sequence, when he jumps over the wrought-iron fence and into the [spoiler elided]; in that moment, I could tell that this new guy was still James Bond. From there on, I was able to lean back, stop analyzing and enjoy the ride. Sure, he’s the new guy, but going back to the beginning made that work pretty well. You see him making rookie mistakes and bouncing back (or not), and you get a brand new impression that he’s a human. Lately, these movies have shied away from that kind of character, and it’s refreshing to be able to worry about him and not just his sidekicks.

Bond’s mission is to follow some terrorist money and prevent it getting to the terrorists. Only, he discovers that the guy doing the laundering has accidentally lost all of it himself and hopes to win it back in a $150 million game of, well, Texas Hold’Em. (Apparently, that is now the only version of poker that officially exists.) So, Bond is bought into the game by MI6 and pursues a high stakes game of cat and mouse with the evil money laundering guy, wherein his dual goals are to find enough proof to capture the guy for questioning and, if possible, to make sure someone else wins the money. It’s actually quite a bit more exciting than it sounds, for all that there’s a lack of perfectly plotted gadgets and insane, overpowered supervillains. (Or, more likely, because of that lack. Humanized, I said.) The ending gets a little convoluted, but apparently the fault lies with the original author. (Well, sure, and some to the screenwriter for not finding a way to fix it at least a little bit.) They do win my respect, despite all that, for providing me with what will probably be the coolest thing I’ll ever see happen in Venice.

Two things I wonder, though. Will they start remaking all of the old Bond movies, and cause them to more closely follow Fleming’s work? I think that might not be a bad idea, though I doubt it’s what will happen. And, why is there such a big brouhaha over ‘James Blond’? Seriously, after putting together a solid Bond to rival the best performance of any of the previous ones, we’re focused on his hair? Lame. This must be how Reese Witherspoon feels when she reads In Style the day after the Academy Awards.

Most importantly, though, I stuck around through the credits and received the eternal promise: James Bond will return.

Snakes on a Plane

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I know what you’re thinking. I’ve been talking about Snakes on a Plane since even before Jon Stewart heard about it, and now it’s been out for a week with nary a peep from me. I’ve been trying (unsuccessfully, so far) to resolve the spam issue hereabouts, and that has been taking almost all of my attention. It sucks, but there it is. (Incidentally, spammer people. I delete all of it. It’s not going to help you any to put it here. I guarantee you send me more spam in a given week than I get hits, even if all of my readers were gullible idiots. What you are doing is useless. It’s not going to make you any money. I promise. Please stop. Or when you get indicted and are being transported to the trial, I may very well… but I’m getting ahead of myself.)

What you have to understand is how very, very tired I was. Running on low sleep from dealing with new job, 90 minutes of commute per day, grandfather in the hospital, and still trying to have some semblance of a personal life. So by 10 PM on Thursday night, I was already more than able to go right to sleep. Staying awake for an extra couple of hours to watch a movie instead, that was the stuff of insanity. And yet, it was motherfucking snakes on a motherfucking plane, man. How am I supposed to turn that down?

Well, it’s like this. I have a history, when it’s late and I’m tired, of falling asleep. Shocking, I know. But I even mean when I have every intention of staying awake. It’s a combination of comfort and darkness that is usually unbeatable by my higher brain functions. And I was a lot more tired than usual. The point of all this is to make it clear that when I say I stayed awake for the whole movie, that’s not just some idle aside which should have been obvious before you ever started reading. I was motherf-. Well, I was really tired, is my point.

Even despite all my protestations, I’ll admit that this isn’t the finest endorsement ever. But really, how much better of an endorsement could I give than the title of the movie? Well, for one, I am able to confirm that there were moth- *ahem* snakes on that plane. And they bit people in all kinds of excellent places. And a wide variety of two-dimensional characters were in danger of dying at any moment, and often did. Scripted lines and situations alike were laugh out loud funny, and if you didn’t really care what happened to most of the characters, well, that’s kind of okay, because the point is the spectacle of it. It was, in short, the very archetype of an action/horror movie.

Now, go see it.