Pocket Reviews: For the First Time

Ah… yes… I have rarely been in a movie that lulls me to sleep. And For the First Time does exactly that. When Richard Gutierez and KC Concepcion exchanged googly eyes for the 12th time within the 15 minutes of the film (what, you didn’t count?), I was busy looking at my watch, yawning and looking furtively at the emergency exit (not necessarily in that order).

The plot about a rich rake who fell for and was changed by the woman he loves is tired, formulaic. Gutierrez was still channeling a Bench commercial, apparently forgetting he was supposed to act, not pose.

And Concepcion – wow the waterworks. She overacts and underacts at all the wrong times, proving that she learned her chops from the Gabby Concepcion School of Hammy Acting. I got nothing from the experience but the risk of being cross-eyed (from all those close-ups) and a blood-sugar level to match a dying diabetic.  

Pocket Reviews: The Dark Knight

The Dark Knight is one of those rare hybrids. It’s a superhero film, all right, a genre riddled with ludicrous misfires (X-Men 3, Spider Man 3, Blade Trinity – enough with the trilogy already) and bloated SFX extravaganza (pick any of the Hulk remakes).

Iron Man had set the standard for witty, well-crafted films, which the Dark Knight easily shatters with one burst from the Batmobile’s exhaust, leaving Tony Stark to eat Batman dust.

We gladly take Chris Nolan’s gritty helming on the latest saga of the Gotham’s favorite playboy-billionaire, and we would gladly be taken for a ride. A tale of dark sides and gray areas, Dark Knight delineates characters that are neither completely white nor completely black.

Strong performances abound, with Morgan Freeman, Gary Oldman and Michael Caine reprising their roles from Batman Begins. Maggie Gyllenhaal took over the role that Tom Cruise’s deluded wife turned down, and hers is a performance that is both strong and alluring. Aaron Eckhart (I heart Aaron!) was sufficiently menacing as Harvey “Two-Faced” Dent.

Christian Bale proves he is one of the most talented actors of his generation given the right projects (I would even forgive his voice change when he becomes Batman – his voice sounds like Paris Hilton’s nails on blackboard).

But it would be purely criminal to make a review of Batman without mentioning Heath Ledger. *Sob* The Dark Knight makes us realize how much Hollywood lost with his death. His Joker is a complex murderous madman, easy putting to shame Mr Nicholson’s OTT clown act.  

Pocket Reviews: Little Miss Sunshine

Greg Kinnear! Toni Collette! Alan Arkin! STEVE CARRELL! Really, do we have any other reasons NOT to watch Little Miss Sunshine?  

Indie films have always featured dysfunctional families, but they couldn’t be more endearing than the one featured in Little Miss Sunshine, a road trip movie that is really a richly-layered parable of acceptance and consumerist exploitation.

Introducing the paragon of America’s Dysfunction: There’s the father, Richard Hoover (Kinnear), one of those self-help gurus with all of Chopra’s ideas but none of his money; Sheryl Hoover (Collete), the mother who tries to keep everything together; Frank Ginsberg (Carrel, in a career-best performance), a suicidal Proust scholar, Grandpa Edwin Hoover (Arkin), a heroine-snorting, sex-crazed war vet; Dwayne, (Paul Dano), an existentialist pilot wannabe, and Olive Hoover (Abigail Breslin), the most unlikely beauty pageant candidate. All endearing. And all out to conquer California so that little Olive could have a shot at the titular crown.

All actors turn in strong performances, but the revelation was Breslin herself, who didn’t need to play it cute just to get audiences sit up and notice, especially with her final, side-splitting performance in the pageant. (Four stars) 

Note:  Photo Courtesy of IMDB

Pocket Reviews: Mamma Mia!

Vapid, supermodel-thin plot does little to save a movie that barely tries to float above the Aegean under the weight of hammy acting and frenetic, false energy. The big-screen adaptation of the musical Mamma Mia! revolves around bride-to-be Sophie , who on the eve of her wedding has invited her three possible fathers (played by Pierce Brosnan, Colin Firth and Stellan Skarsgard).  

The cast of heavyweights, led by Streep (whose mere blink can earn her an Oscar) could keep the ABBA-soaked musical from being shoved into a dustbin along with kitschy ‘80s disco, and the forced frenzy and the embarrassing musical numbers that director Phyllida Lloyd imposed upon her actors did little to salvage the movie.

Any self-respecting adult with squirm while witnessing James Bond croaking SOS, but ABBA fans have a lot to look forward to. (Two out of four stars)  

Note: Photo Courtesy of IMDB.

Pocket Reviews: Wanted

Talk about smart yarn. This one ain’t.  

But it sure is damn entertaining. James McAvoy sheds off his faun costume to play Wesley Gibson, a nobody on the verge of a meltdown who discovers that he could bend ‘em like Beckham – the bullets, that is. Soon he was recruited to a secret organization of assassins calling itself the Fraternity that takes orders from – get this – a loom, which weaves out names of its targets.

Borrowing thematic elements from Fight Club and Star Wars, keeps the yawns at bay with fantastic special effects that bend the laws of physics faster than you can say “Matrix”. With Angelina Jolie as the foxy assassin Fox (not related to Megan) and a slumming Morgan Freeman trying (and succeeding) to lend class to an otherwise forgettable outfit, the movie teeters between the slap-your-head absurd and flat-out entertaining. But it’s really McAvoy’s earnestness and simmering charisma that makes the movie more enjoyable than it really is. (Three out of four stars).

Ayn’s Take: (Swoon) Never mind the ridiculous plot. James McAvoy is MINE!

Note:  Photo Courtesy of IMDB.

Indie films, where are thou?

“Where are the indie films?”

Ayn, my cinemate, groaned.

At Robinsons’ Mall, I told her. That was the time that the Cinemalaya pips were peddling their wares, encouraging teachers to, eherm, require students to watch the films. For the students, it was a chance to goof off – legally. For the organizers, it meant revenues. Hey, at P70 a pop, these films don’t come cheap.

No, no, no… she said.

“Not just the Filipino indie films… why is it that we have practically very little access to indie films in general?”

She complained that she saw the poster for the movie Juno in Robinsons, but when she came back a few days later, the poster was replaced with a Star Cinema outing. Ellen Page looked uncannily like Anne Curtis-Smith.

She cited a list of films she liked. Little Miss Sunshine. There Will be Blood. No Country for Old Men. Modern classics all.

“Haven’t found those titles in the marquee,” she said, attacking her sizzling spare ribs with ferocity, as though the steak was responsible for the blacklist.

I did, I assured her. But they were gone faster than you can say Gore Verbinski.

While movies like Supapalicious and Ang Cute ng Ina Mo are raking in the moolah.

Makes you want to cry. In frustration, I helped her attack her steak too.

Revisiting the Classics

Decided to revisit the classics last night, starting with Casablanca.
*Sigh* I really have to say this: Good dialog has gone the way of the panda. And unless there’s some serious screwing going on, the species might just vanish.
Consider the exchange:

Captain Renault: This is the end of the chase.
Rick: Twenty thousand francs says it isn't.
Captain Renault: Is that a serious offer?
Rick: I just paid out twenty. I'd like to get it back.
Captain Renault: Make it ten. I'm only a poor corrupt official.

Said with the just the right kind of Bogart crispness, with Claude Rains (as Captain Renault) giving a self-aware sneer as he delivered the last line, it was a dialogue that gives us a peek into the souls of the characters.

And then there’s another:
Ugarte: Too bad about those two German couriers, wasn't it?
Rick: They got a lucky break. Yesterday they were just two German clerks. Today they're the "Honored Dead".
Ugarte: You are a very cynical person, Rick, if you'll forgive me for saying so.
Rick: [shortly] I forgive you.

Call it whatever you want. The dryness of the delivery, the right amount of zing, the unforced humor. One of the best scripts celebrated now is Juno, but the one-liners seemed so contrived, much of the movie felt like one night in the Vegas Comic Circuit.

I’m keeping a promise to myself now: I will be watching one classic movie per night, if the schedule allows me. Who knows, it might be a beginning of a beautiful friendship.