Toy Story 3 (2010)

Toy Story 3 is a more than worthy addition to the Toy Story series, and it continues Pixar’s streak as the premiere animation studio working in feature films today. The story takes place as Andy is about to leave for college, and our fabled heroes are preparing for the move…into the attic. At least that’s Woody’s plan for the rest of the toys, whether they agree or not. Over a mishap in communication, however, the toys end up at the local daycare center, where toys are given a second life and a chance to play with children again. The toys also meet the patriarch of the center, a wise, gregarious teddy bear named Lotso (as in “Lotso Hugs”) and Barbie’s famed boyfriend Ken. Things go ok upon arrival, but then the toys suddenly realize that the daycare turns out to be run more or less like a prison, and the toys begin to plan their escape.

The second half of the film cleverly plays homage to prison films of the past, primarily The Great Escape and Cool Hand Luke. Thankfully, the film always keeps the characters in mind first and foremost and never devolves into straight imitation. Woody and co.’s plans for escape have to get more and more elaborate in order to fool the likes of the antagonists, which is often played off as both clever and very funny. One sequence involves Mr. Potato Head “shedding” his skin to become Mr. Tortilla Head, and hilarity ensues as he tries to adjust to his new body. As usual, Pixar’s animation and attention to detail are beyond comparison, and the voice acting is once again top notch. In addition to the regulars, Ned Beatty does an excellent job as the aforementioned Lotso, and Michael Keaton shows up to give a humorous turn as Ken. There are also notable cameos from Bonnie Hunt and Timothy Dalton, playing some of Woody’s newfound friends.

Of all three Toy Story films, this third installment probably packs the most action, especially during the toys’ actual escape and subsequent unexpected trip to the garbage facility. However, it’s final 20 minutes also hold probably the most gravitas found not only within the series but almost anything Pixar has attempted thus far. The harrowing sequence at the garbage facility is played with the utmost seriousness concerning the plight of the toys, and it’s almost too unbearable to watch. Whereas other films might try and make light of the situation by inserting a cheap gag or two, this film chooses to linger on their traumatic situation, all without a word spoken from any of the toys. This decision pays off masterfully, as we really feel for the characters and wonder how much differently we ourselves would react to such a situation. The final scene is also a bittersweet goodbye to the toys that we have come to know and love over the years, and as we see Andy drive away for college, we feel a sudden twinge as well.

Sequels can often times become a cause for concern, where something might get lost in the attempt to make everything bigger and top the previous installment. Thankfully, Toy Story 3 sidesteps this trap by keeping the focus on the characters and giving them a situation that feels less forced and more like their natural progression. Although the film could be classified as a kid’s movie, it’s really made for the ones that grew up with the Toy Story franchise, and it’s only fitting that we get a proper chance to say goodbye to some of our favorite toys.

Rating: 4 ½ stars

So...

Will return 11/01/2010...stay tuned.

Ran (1985)

Ran is one of the most epic films ever made, a masterful achievement for director Akira Kurosawa. A loose adaptation of King Lear, the film is set in 16^th century medieval Japan and tells the story of a warlord named Hidetora who decides to split up his kingdom among his three sons. While the elder two sons agree, the youngest son is dubious of the plan, questioning the sense of loyalty that all three sons will stick together to keep the kingdom alive. What follows is a story about pride, greed, betrayal and ultimately, defeat. It’s a bleak and nihilistic tale that is told with such weight that it could become suffocating, but Kurosawa’s sense of visuals and composition help maintain the film’s visceral qualities.

Kurosawa was 75 years old and nearly blind when he was filming Ran, and it’s amazing that the end product is filled with such depth and visual poetry. The film plays much like a visual tone poem, where the colors and landscapes come alive like few films do. Even the weather seems to come alive, as there are multiple shots of ominous clouds overtaking the landscape. The clouds eventually give way into wind and storms, seemingly commenting on the chaos that is destroying the kingdom.

The film’s main setpiece comes about an hour into the film, when the two elder sons have been plotted against each other, and both are storming the castle with the aging warlord trapped inside. One army comes decked in red; the other in yellow. It helps the viewer identify each army, but the colors also create a sort of moving painting. As the ghost-like Hidetora sits at the top of his castle, the armies wage war below. The first part of the battle is done mainly in silence with just the soundtrack playing over the battle, very much creating a poetic scene. Then, a gunshot goes off, and we are brought right back into the battle, the sound effects now reflecting the scene, with swords clashing, horses racing, and battle cries everywhere. The sequence ends on a powerful shot of Hidetora walking down the steps of his burning castle, slowly leaving his kingdom in a trance-like state. No words are needed to convey the weight of the sequence—Hidetora realizes his reign is over and his kingdom will fall at the hands of his own family, and all the wisdom he’s acquired throughout his life will not save him.

As mentioned before, the film is very bleak in its view of humanity. The title ‘ran’ translates to ‘chaos’, which is exactly what the kingdom is experiencing. Hidetora realizes that his power has now been reduced to nothing, as his sons bicker and fight, tearing apart piece by piece the kingdom that he had created. However, Hidetora isn’t necessarily a heroic character himself, as it is referenced earlier that the way he came into power was through murder and other ruthless tactics. Even Saburo, the most honorable son (the only son who expression dissention to his father’s original plan) ends up dying a cheap, pointless death.

Ran is not a particularly fast paced film, but it doesn’t need rush things along to convey its themes. The first hour establishes the characters and how the power in the kingdom isn’t necessarily based on loyalty. The rest of the film is spend tearing down that power, where by the end nothing is sacred and everyone has experienced defeat, whether it be through death or extreme suffering. The final shot of the film shows a blind peasant (the blindness was caused by Hidetora years ago) left all alone near a cliffside. As he inches closer and closer towards the cliff, he barely catches himself before plunging to his death, but the fact still remains that he has nowhere to go and nobody to help him.

Kurosawa directed many masterpieces in his time, and to have yet another near the end of his career proves all the more impressive. Ran remains to this day a masterpiece of visual style and kinetic storytelling.

Rating: 5 stars

The Top 5 Films of 2010 (So Far)

I realize it’s a bit past the halfway point of the year, and there are still plenty of films I haven’t seen yet, but based on what I have seen, here are my picks for best of the year (so far):

5. Inception – No matter what your thoughts are about the film, Christopher Nolan’s latest has at least been something worth discussing in this disappointing summer movie season. Its stunning visuals and inventive sequences (Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s anti-gravity fight scene stands out) help create an entertaining heist film. The dream sequences could have been a bit more inventive, and there was probably a bit too much exposition in the first half, but despite its flaws, Inception remains one of the highlights of the year so far.

4. Exit Through the Gift Shop – Street artist Banksy’s debut film is a playful, highly entertaining documentary about artists, wannabe artists, the nature of art and how we react to art. It’s also funny as hell. (see my review here)

3. Toy Story 3 – Pixar has been on a bit of hot streak lately (you could also make the argument that they’ve never made a bad film). Toy Story 3 continues with the adventures of Woody, Buzz and co., and it definitely holds its own with the first two films. The second half plays as a nice homage to prison escape films of the past (The Great Escape, Cool Hand Luke) while also keeping the wit and humor of the series. It also has two of the most effective scenes in recent memory in terms of emotional impact near the end of the film. You’ll know them when you see them.

2. Winter’s Bone – Based on Daniel Woodrell’s novel, this film noir via Ozark adventure is one of the most gripping films you’ll see all year. Jennifer Lawrence gives an excellent performance as the teenage heroine, and John Hawkes gives one of the best performances of his career as the heroine’s intimidating uncle. The atmosphere in the backwoods of Missouri is like a character unto itself, always in the background like an ominous force.

1. A Prophet (Un prophète) – Technically released in 2009 in France (and nominated for Best Foreign Language Film in last year’s Oscars), this film didn’t get a stateside release until this yearr. The ambitious film is an instant classic in the gangster genre, all told through the viewpoint of the lead character primarily within the confines of a French prison. His rise to power can be seen as reminiscent of Scarface, but the film never gets as campy as that film not glorifies the lifestyle, instead presenting it in a much more harrowing manner. Tahar Rahim gives an outstanding performance in the lead role, and he effortlessly shows the character's rise within the prison ranks from scared newcome to head boss.

Honorable mentions: “June 17, 1994” (part of ESPN’s “30 For 30” series), Greenberg, Best Worst Movie (also a 2009 film via festival circuit), Shutter Island, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo

Many more films to see this year, many more reviews to write (and catch up on). Stay tuned.

Chinatown (1974)

“Forget it, Jake. It’s Chinatown.” Those are the infamous words spoken at the end of Chinatown, and probably the most well known line from the film. Yet, it carries such a weight that explains everything that has come before and still remains entirely elusive. Everything’s changed, yet nothing is really different at all. Not matter how hard he tried, how much he learned, Jake Gittes is powerless to what happens, but it’s his fault at the same time. It’s quite possibly one of the saddest, most devastating endings in all of cinema, made all the more heartbreaking that despite his best efforts, Jake won’t forget what happens in Chinatown.

To call Chinatown a perfect film isn’t that far from the truth. It fits squarely in the neo-noir genre, but it ever so subtly takes those noir conventions and turns them into something much deeper than most hard-boiled detective stories of the past. Detective Jake “J.J.” Gittes, as played by Jack Nicholson, at first seems like the stereotypical film detective from ‘40s noir—detached, business-minded, sharp-witted. But we soon learn that he empathizes much greater with the plight of some of his clients than the detectives you may find in a Raymond Chandler novel. The plot is downright labyrinthine at times, but it never buckles under the weight of its own ambition. The plotting never panders to the audience, however, so while everything is laid out in the plot, it’s a film that requires careful viewing. It’s made all the more interesting that the detective in this noir story is not on the hunt for gold or jewels, but rather is chasing a much larger, much more abstract—the corruption of the water department of Los Angeles. What begins innocently enough as a case to uncover an affair ends in real human tragedy for some of the characters.

While the production and filming of Chinatown has a very storied history, the effort created by the cast and crew is practically flawless. Director Roman Polanski was at the peak of his talents here, eclipsing even previous efforts such as Rosemary’s Baby. Robert Towne’s script is masterful in its ability to create a complex plot that deals with the idea of corruption at a macro level while never losing sight of the characters at the core. The cinematography by John A. Alonzo is also well worth noting, as the world of the noir is usually accented in black and white, with sharp shadows and negative space. Here, the rich yellow and orange hues of the desert and sun come alive over Los Angeles, creating an even more foreboding notion that evil and corruption doesn’t always hide in the shadows and can often times be found in plain sight. The acting is great, as Jack Nicholson gives one of his best performances, as he plays Gittes with a sense of restraint and a little defeatism; a nice guy who is just trying to make it in a world that is full of betrayal and corruption. His performance is key in holding the film together, especially since he appears in every single scene. Faye Dunaway, playing a variation of the femme fatale character in the film, gives an emotionally vulnerable performance while remaining mysterious through most of the film. Once her motives and secrets are revealed, it’s impossible not to sympathize with her plight. Director John Huston (who directed such classics as The Maltese Falcon and The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, so he probably knows a thing or two about film noir) gives an outstanding performance as the intimidating millionaire Noah Cross, a man whose charm and power have given him free reign over a city that he helped shape, but his crimes and intricate webs of deception take on a dark and disturbing undercurrent to the revelations found near the end of the film.

There is one scene in the film where Evelyn Mulwray (Dunaway) and Jake Gittes are lying in bed, and Mulwray asks about his life in Chinatown. He tells her that the entire area was corrupt, and he was told to do “as little as possible”, followed by a sign a resignation over his face as he explains that a woman that he was trying to protect only ended up getting hurt in the end. It’s a brief moment of true vulnerability for Gittes, which makes it all the more sad when this scenario is replayed exactly at the end of the film, complete with a confrontation in Chinatown. As he stands there in disbelief viewing the damage that has been done, he mutters to himself, “…as little as possible.” Gittes knows this cycle will never end for him, no matter how hard he tries to change the outcome. Best he just forget everything that happened, right? After all, it’s Chinatown.

Rating: 5 stars

Exit Through the Gift Shop (2010)

Exit Through the Gift Shop, the debut film by street artist Banksy, is a fascinating documentary that illuminates both the world of street art and the hype machine that surrounds the art community. The film tells the story of French-born, Los Angeles resident and thrift store owner Theirry Guetta, who obsessively videotapes everything in his life—right down to his family meals and morning showers. On a vacation to France he finds out that his cousin is the street artist Space Invader. He soon begins to videotape Space Invader and his installations, and soon Guetta is introduced the underground world of street art, meeting such artists as Shepard Fairey and the elusive prankster Banksy. Guetta begins to shadow the artists during their midnight installations, and the artists willingly let him tag along, as he often provides help and will keep a document of their work. Guetta often proves to be very loyal to the artists, and during one excursion to Disneyland with Banksy, Guetta is stopped and interrogated by security for hours concerning a “mysterious” new installation to the theme park. After some time, Guetta is encouraged by Banksy to make a documentary of the street art world, but time passes, tapes and tapes pile up, a documentary is nowhere to be seen, and things get very interesting.

What happens next (and yes, spoilers to follow) proves to be interesting for both the filmmaker and the subject. A documentary is finally produced, but it’s such a shambling mess that Banksy decides to take over the project. Banksy then decides it would be better to just make a film about Guetta, as Banksy felt he proved to be a more “interesting” subject than himself. In another twist, Guetta becomes a street artist, dubbing himself “Mr. Brainwash”, and he begins work on a major exhibit in downtown Los Angeles. The problem is, Guetta’s work isn’t very good and often derivative of his mentors. The role reversal is played very slyly, but it proves to be a very interesting twist, especially when Guetta’s exhibition proves to be massively successful, seemingly on marketing alone. Banksy not-so-subtly has nothing but contempt for Guetta’s work as an artist, and you can tell he has mixed feelings about how his own art can influence work that is blatantly derivative. But who decides what constitutes “good” art? It’s a question that Banksy brings up time and time again in the film, letting the viewer ponder the implications of what happens when the hype is more believable than the art.

With Banksy at the helm, the film definitely has a lot to say about the commercialization of art. Banksy’s art begins selling for big bucks at the auction house, and his first exhibition proves to be an instant success both critically and financially. He obviously doesn’t seem very comfortable with the notion of his art being sold to the highest bidder--the sheep mentality of patrons buying art seemingly on hype alone. He gets to prove his point yet again with the success of the Mr. Brainwash exhibit, trying to come to grips as to how and why art gets so commercialized. This may all sound very intellectual, but the film actually stays very funny and playful throughout.

Exit Through the Gift Shop starts as a great documentary about street art, as it contains a lot of invaluable footage of artwork that often doesn’t last more than a day. It later becomes an essay on the nature of art and whether the art or the artist is more important to the public at large. Then by the end of the film, we’re left with yet another take—was this all a hoax by Banksy? It’s a question that many have pondered—the possibility that Mr. Brainwash (or Guetta) is a real-life installation created by Banksy. After all, we never see Guetta actually produce any art, and he’s very elusive when talking about his own art. What if Guetta was purposely producing bad art so the results (and subsequent success) could be filmed? While nobody’s talking, it would prove to be the ultimate prank on the audience. I haven’t decided if Guetta’s artwork is fake or not, but I think I would respect the prank more if it were fake--Banksy’s art is clever and playful, why should his film be any less entertaining?

Rating: 4 ½ stars

Mystery Team (2009)

What happens to Encyclopedia Brown when he reaches high school? It’s the main premise of Mystery Team, from the comedy troupe Derrick Comedy. It follows three best friends who started a makeshift detective agency when they were young children. The problem now lies that the three friends are now 18 years old and ready to graduate high school, yet they are stuck in a state of arrested development. Also, the amount mysteries to solve in a sleepy suburban neighborhood aren’t exactly rolling in—the biggest mystery seems to be the location of the bully who stole the lunch money. However, one day a little girl shows up and wants to hire them. Everything seems pretty normal until the girl claims she needs help to find out who murdered her parents. While obviously in over their heads, their decision to tackle the mystery seems to take them through the seediest parts of town, including shoot-outs, strip clubs and drug dealers.

As the three main characters, leader Jason (Donald Glover of Community fame), boy genius Duncan (D.C. Pierson) and the brawn of the group, the dimwitted, big hearted Charlie (Dominick Dierkes) all play a mix of nerdy adolescent innocence and the continual fear of growing up and facing reality. Thankfully, their adventures are also very funny, especially when Glover is able to let loose and go “undercover” with a variety of costumes and characters (the group hilariously dons top hats, tuxedos and canes to try and gain entrance to the “gentleman’s club”). There are also several funny cameos from members of Upright Citizens Brigade and current NBC sitcoms such as 30 Rock (of which Glover was a former writer).

It’s difficult to transition from small, on-the-fly sketches to a full feature length film (see: any SNL movie), and Mystery Team is no exception. There are times in the movie where it feels like the filmmakers are straining to fill in some space with an extra cameo or costume, and while the pacing of the film seems to be a little off at times (much of the humor seems to fly out the window once the plot gets rolling), there is definitely some potential to be found here from the budding comedy troupe. The attention to detail is very admirable, and there is quite a bit accomplished with a paper-thin budget (the strip club and schools look barely populated, which ends up adding to the charm). The film could have easily devolved into cheap jokes and stereotypical characters, but thankfully, the filmmakers are smart enough to invest us in the characters early on, so we’re still engaged by the time the mystery ramps up in full force. There’s definitely enough wit and charm here to merit checking out Mystery Team, and here’s hoping to more good things to come.

Rating: 3 stars

Toy Story 2 (1999)

Toy Story 2 is yet another great achievement from Pixar, a movie that was originally slated to become a straight-to-video sequel but has more than enough talent to stand alongside its predecessor. Where Toy Story’s plot may have been about how these particular toys were perceived by their personal owner, Toy Story 2 touches on how the toys (specifically Woody and Buzz) have become perceived by society at large. Buzz has become the star of a hit new video game (as seen in the action-packed opening sequence), fighting off the clutches of the Evil Emporer Zurg. Meanwhile, Woody has become a rare collector’s item that is highly sought after. Woody learns that he was the star of the ‘50s hit radio and television show “Woody’s Round-Up”, following the adventures of heroic cowboy Woody, his trusty horse Bullseye, cowgirl Jessie, and the prospector Stinky Pete. Unfortunately, the show was cancelled after a cliffhanger episode, and now all the toys have become rare items. Meanwhile, Buzz and company find out that Woody has been “kidnapped” by the collector (voiced by Wayne Knight), and they start a reconnaissance mission to save him. However, Buzz finds that Zurg is lurking right around the corner and waiting to take his revenge on the space ranger, which leads to a shocking revelation for Buzz (hint: anyone familiar with the cultural lexicon of the Star Wars films may have a clue of Zurg’s identity).

While the film’s plot is definitely more ambitious than the original, the film does an excellent job of handling the more personal scenes involving just one or two characters, particularly Woody and Jessie. Woody is torn between the fear of becoming more and more obsolete as Andy grows older or the prospect of becoming a cherished collector’s item with his new “family”, but at the cost of living behind a glass shelf forever, never to be played with by any child again. He knows his decision isn’t easy, and it’s conveyed with real gravity within the context of the film. By far the most heartbreaking sequence, however, is the montage involving Jessie and her former owner Emily. As we see the progression from Emily as a child playing with her toys to her growing up and slowly losing that spark of interest in her former playmates, we see Jessie’s progression from a trusted friend to Emily devolve into full heartbreak as she is forgotten and abandoned by her owner. It’s a sequence that’s been rightly praised over the years, but it’s still an emotionally resonant scene which perfectly captures Jessie’s character without any dialogue.

The animation looks as detailed and rich as ever, and the voice acting all around is once again top-notch. Aside from the main characters reprising their roles from the original, Joan Cusack as Jessie and Kelsey Grammar as Stinky Pete both give their imbue their characters with enough personality to stand on their own. Toy Story 2 is the kind of sequel that not only retains the wit and heart of the original, but in some areas deepens and enhances its strengths. It retains our fondness for all of the characters introduced in the original, yet it goes a little deeper, both technically and emotionally, without losing any of the fun.

Rating: 5 stars

Toy Story (1995)

What more can be said about the film that rewrote the template for all future animated films? Filled with wit, heart, and humor, Toy Story is an excellent film that is as timeless today as it was the day it was released. It was the first feature length computer animated film from Pixar Studios, but it never shows signs of being an amateur or rookie affair. It’s fully developed and professional in every way, combining a heartfelt story with first-rate voice acting and excellent visuals. The story revolves around Woody, the cowboy toy with the pull string whose catchphrases consist of such gems as “Reach for the sky!” and “There’s a snake in my boots!”. Woody is the de facto leader of the rest of the toys, which include members such as Mr. Potato Head, Slinky Dog, Rex (the dinosaur), Hamm (the piggy bank), Bo Peep and others. All the toys belong to Andy, their owner and playmate who loves his toys and creating new adventures with them. One day, on Andy’s birthday, a newcomer arrives on the scene: Buzz Lightyear, the space ranger and popular new toy. Jealousy abounds (primarily from Woody), but the other toys are in awe of the new toy and all its gadgets. Also, Buzz thinks he’s on an actual space mission and can actually fly, which hilariously adds to Woody’s resentment.

Pixar and director John Lasseter achieve something quite magical with Toy Story: they actually create real feelings for these toys and fill them with empathetic traits and emotions—joy, fear, jealousy, sadness, loyalty, friendship. Each character has been given delicate care to give them a unique personality for the story, and we end up caring deeply about most of the toys and their plight. What seems to elevate Pixar’s films is that there is actually genuine care put into their characters and story, and the humor comes in service of the characters as opposed to the other way around. It also helps that the writing is top-notch here, filled with wit and heart. Consider a heartbreaking scene where Buzz, on a mission to get back to his home base via spaceship, witnesses a commercial where he not only sees himself, but hundreds of Buzz Lightyear toys lining the shelves. It’s difficult not to feel for him in this moment of defeat and realization that he is only a toy. The story is filled with moments like these where we forget that we are watching (computer animated) plastic toys and instead feel like we are watching very human stories instead. It also helps that the voice acting here is outstanding across the board. Tom Hanks brings his usual charm and biting wit to Woody, while Tim Allen is hilarious as the earnest and determined Buzz Lightyear. The supporting actors here are also just as good, including Don Rickles as Mr. Potato Head, Wallace Shawn as Rex, Jim Varney as the Slinky Dog.

Of course, not enough can be said about the visuals, which look as awe inspiring today as they did fifteen years ago. The use of space and depth is something to behold, and the use of lighting is excellent, creating convincing three dimensional characters and spaces in every scene. One thing that I have always respected about Pixar’s films is their attention to detail, filling the frame with subtle inside jokes and cross-references that require repeat viewings. They also amazingly respect the physics of all the toys, so Woody hilariously runs with limbs loose and flailing; Slinky Dog can strech to the point where his coils are not long enough; even the toy soldiers have to shift back and forth to walk because of the plastic mantle bounding their legs. The only complaint I can think of about the renderings is that the human characters look a little more on the cartoonish side, but it’s an almost irrelevant gripe since the film is not only about the adventures of the toys, but it also never pronounces itself as a paragon for realism--we’re watching a movie about talking toys here.

Toy Story is the type of film that can truly be enjoyed by people of any age, primarily because it taps into a childlike wonder, and it’s near impossible not to get lost in the film’s boundless imagination. I can’t say enough good things about this film, as it successfully shows how to combine a great story, memorable characters and excellent visuals into a unified whole that should be a template for not only animated features (as it has pretty much stayed the template for the past fifteen years, and also reinforced by the fact that Toy Story 3 was just recently released) but also for all films. These toys may be “child’s playthings”, but this film is certainly one for everyone to cherish.

Rating: 5 stars (out of 5)

Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai (1999)

Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai is a curious addition to the filmography of Jim Jarmusch. However, its style and fascination with various juxtapositions create the type of film that only could come from the mind of Jarmusch. The film begins as we follow Ghost Dog (Forest Whitaker) as he walks around a nameless city (located in a place only known as “The Industrialized State” by the license plates). He steals a car using a card reader device (one of the many homages to Jean-Pierre Melville’s Le Samourai) and drives to his destination to assassinate a gangster. Much like Alain Delon in Le Samourai, he is cool and meticulous about who he is and what he does. As the film progresses, we slowly learn a couple of odd details about the character of Ghost Dog—he lives on a rooftop, he communicates to his boss solely through passenger pigeons, he demands payment once a year on the first day of autumn, he lives by a strict code of the samurai. All these traits seem very strange, an opinion also shared by Ghost Dog’s boss, a local mobster who once saved Ghost Dog’s life. However, he accepts Ghost Dog’s eccentricities because he is an impeccable contract killer.

Jarmusch seems interested in creating a melting pot of styles and cultures, all seemingly ready to clash against one another. Even though Ghost Dog lives strictly by an ancient code of the samurai, he also lives in an urban jungle and has seemingly unlimited access to an endless cache of weapons and modern technology such as his carjacking card reader. His best friend is a Haitian ice cream vendor (played by Jarmusch regular Isaach De Bankolé), but Ghost Dog doesn’t know a word of French and the vendor doesn’t know any English. As with most Jarmusch films, characters often speak in a deadpan fashion, not giving much away through their words. It’s these type of oddities that become the life force of the movie, and it poses some curious questions that permeates throughout the movie—how are we defined by the culture around us? It may be an obvious question, but it’s one that the main character seems to face and struggle with at every turn. Even the end of the film (spoilers), Ghost Dog’s strict adherence to the code is what ultimately brings his downfall, even when he refuses to use to simple resources provided to him by the modern world in which he lives in. However, it’s clear that Jarmusch seems to side with Whitaker’s character, a sort of man out of time, both emotionally and quite literally by the end. In the title role, Whitaker does an excellent job portraying the introspective hitman, playing him with a quiet menace and determination, all while earning our sympathy by hinting at a deep sadness to his character. The soundtrack by The RZA is also largely excellent, enhancing the cool atmosphere of the film.

While the film doesn’t always work from a logistical standpoint, it seems to work better if viewed as a piece of music or visual poem. Jarmusch seems to also treat the film instinctively, where the rhythms and beats of the characters seem to ebb and flow with the atmosphere of the world around them. There are times where the stylistic aspects seem to envelop the characters, while other times we see Italian gangsters extolling the virtues of Flavor Flav. The film seems to relish in the realm of juxtaposition—Eastern vs. Western culture, gangsters films vs. samurai films, and sly comments on race, technology and language. Jarmusch is clearly having fun in seeing how all these cultures tie together, and while the film may not hold up to his very best work, it’s also not hard to get lost in the atmosphere.

Rating: 4 stars (out of 5)

Bubba Ho-Tep (2002)

Bubba Ho-Tep takes an incredibly wacky (yet winning) premise of wish-fulfillment fantasy mixed with a slice of irony to create an offbeat horror-comedy that will (at the very least) have fans of the genre intrigued and probably slightly bewildered. The main idea (based off a short story by Texas writer Joe R. Landsdale): what if Elvis was still alive, but instead of reclaiming his fame, he was forced to spend the rest of his life in a drab Texas nursing home because of back problems? What if the Elvis that actually died was an Elvis impersonator, who agreed to switch places back in the 70s? What if Elvis’s best friend in the nursing home is an old black man (played wonderfully by Ossie Davis) who thinks he is actually JFK? What if their goal is to stop a mythical cowboy-mummy who begins to haunt the residents of the nursing home? It’s all very bizarre, but thankfully the film maintains the balancing act of horror and comedy long enough leave an impression. One would think that the film keeps the proceedings light with this kind of concept, but it actually goes for a darker tone, dealing with loneliness and the inevitability of old age and death. There is humor to be sure (one bit involves Elvis’s contract with the impersonator becoming lost during a freak barbeque explosion), but there is a surprising sadness of the characters’ situations that undercuts some of the craziness found in the offbeat storyline.

One of the main reasons the film works as well as it does is the excellent performance of Bruce Campbell as the aging Elvis Presley. Famously known for his slapstick swagger played to comic perfection in the Evil Dead films, Campbell here seems much more restrained, especially under layers and layers of old-age makeup. Thankfully, his face is still expressive as ever, and he’s able to portray Elvis as a man who’s down but not out. It makes it all the more impressive that his performance is not a straight up Elvis impersonation, but his wit, humor, and swagger all shine through the lonely character he’s playing, and you get a sense that this really could have been Elvis: The Elderly Years. Director Don Coscarelli (of Phantasm and Beastmaster fame) and the filmmakers also thankfully have a sense of reverence towards Elvis, so instead of becoming a punchline, he becomes a real character who just seems to be stuck in an uncanny situation. The other main performance, Ossie Davis as JFK, is hilarious because the way Davis ramps up the paranoia, believing everyone is out to get him, be it Oswald or Johnson. Together their chemistry and comic timing provides for some great laughs as they scuttle around the nursing home trying to deal with the mythical villain.

The movie is obviously influenced by the horror-comedy that preceded it, and it’s hard not to mention the Evil Dead films as a major influence, especially when you have Bruce Campbell in the title role. There is one hilarious bit with Campbell’s Elvis fighting off a persistent scarab beetle in his room that would probably feel right at home in Sam Raimi’s classic series. Unfortunately, for all its offbeat qualities, the film loses steam in the second half (the final standoff against Bubba Ho-Tep fells oddly rushed and a little anti-climactic), and there are times where the filmmakers seem to be trying a little too hard to make an instant cult hit. However, it’s bizarre concept and great first half keeps things enjoyable, so if you’ve ever wondered what would happen if Elvis and JFK teamed up to fight mummies, you’d be hard pressed not to find some sort of strange answer here.

Rating: 3 stars (out of 5)

Muhammad and Larry (2009)

Muhammad and Larry, part of ESPN’s 30 for 30 documentary series, is a mesmerizing story of the downfall of a giant, the promise of another great, and the muddled grey area in between. The film was directed by Albert Maysles (one half of the famed documentary team in charge of Gimme Shelter, Salesman, and Grey Gardens fame) and Bradley Kaplan, using archival footage from a shorter, unreleased documentary shot by Maysles and his brother David. This film allows Maysles to use some of his footage from almost 30 years ago and expand on it with new interviews and footage for the “30 for 30” segment. What has been released not only provides a wealth of unseen footage from the era, but it also provides a nice look into how this fight affected all parties involved.

The film chronicles the events leading up the 1980 championship bout between Muhammad Ali and Larry Holmes. Holmes had been consistently defending his WBC Heavyweight Champion title over the past couple of years by defeating the likes of Ken Norton, Mike Weaver, and Earnie Shavers. Meanwhile, Ali had not boxed professionally in well over a year but was looking for a return for a fourth heavyweight championship. The two had been friends and sparring partners, and Holmes regarded Ali as a mentor and hero. The idea of Ali returning was met with speculation, as nobody thought Ali could make such a strong comeback. The movie begins two months before the fight, and we see Ali, at age 38, looking weathered and tired from the gate. He is overweight (for his class) and sporting a moustache, making him look far older than his age would suggest.

What’s fascinating here is that we are allowed a backstage pass into Ali’s training facility, a sort of grimy, DIY-like arena where you can almost smell the wood and vinyl surrounding the interiors. Here Ali becomes a sort of master of ceremonies, entertaining the crowds with witty speeches and amazing kids with magic tricks. However, it becomes obvious Ali’s keeping his cards close to his chest, never revealing his true self. There is even a moment in a limo ride where Ali is asked about Holmes as a friend, and Ali says he is a friend to Holmes, but the look in his eyes shows nothing but contempt. He is nervous, paranoid of those around him, audibly slurring (unbeknownst to anyone at the time, Ali was only four years away from being diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease). Holmes, on the other hand, is seen as much more open to the camera, often seen kissing his baby, singing songs about himself or talking to his wife on his (oversize) car phone. It becomes obvious that he really doesn’t want to fight his friend, but on the day of the fight he will do what he always does. He also knows that he has the talent, and we are reminded that Holmes was a great fighter who probably isn’t considered one of the greats because he came right after Ali’s reign. Even In the days leading up to the fight, Holmes is confident in his skills that he will win, but the hype falls in Ali’s favor, and it proves to be just a little frustrating for Holmes.

The actual fight, almost predictably, proves to be brutal for Ali. The footage is difficult to watch, as Holmes takes the lead from the first round landing punch after punch on Ali, and there are rounds where it seems that Ali has long since given up, not even trying to throw any punches. Holmes even seems to take pity on Ali mid-fight, not wanting to deliver the final blow to his friend. The fight was finally called in 11^th round, and Holmes was declared the champion. However, the damage had already been done. Holmes was cast as the villain by the press and fans alike for taking down their hero, and it’s a reputation that he has long since tried to correct (as seen in the newer footage). Ali, rather surprisingly, would fight one more time in 1981 before retiring permanently from the sport. The Ali-Holmes fight is fondly remembered as “crime against all involved”, an “abomination”, clearly a money ploy for the promoters, trainers and sports media. No one person was to blame, yet almost everyone knew the outcome well before the fight.

Muhammad and Larry proves to be so captivating because of not only all the archival footage that allows us into the world of the training areas, but it also shows a heartbreaking story of two greats. One, beloved by both the media and the public (still to this day), was well aware that his chances were slim but gambled anyway—and had an embarrassing downslide to his professional career to show for it. The other, even though he came out the victor by defeating one the greats, was outcast as a villain and was never given the chance to fully redeem himself. The film doesn’t take sides on who’s really the hero here—it just shows the two in the natural habitat, just trying to make sense of what is about to happen and how some wrongs can never be made right.

Rating: 4 ½ stars (out of 5)

Crazy Heart (2009)

Crazy Heart tells the story of Bad Blake, a washed up country singer who is still touring the southwestern United States. He lives out of his old van and cheap motel rooms, and he hasn’t written a new song in over a decade. He ends up playing gigs anywhere that will hire him—bowling alleys, dive bars—and he seemingly lives largely off a diet consisting solely of whiskey. While on tour in a small Texas town, he meets a younger, attractive reporter, and they begin seeing each other. He later gets a chance to play bigger arenas again, but he would in turn become the opening act of one of his former protégés. If this story is starting to sound familiar to you, it’s because it’s really nothing new. For a recent example of this story, 2008’s excellent The Wrestler immediately comes to mind. Thankfully, the film succeeds because of its strong performances and assured direction. The film doesn’t have to rely on forced histrionics or big life lessons to convey its story. First time director Scott Cooper (who also adapted the screenplay based on Thomas Cobb’s book) shows great talent for handling these scenes. It keeps its focus on Bad Blake’s life, trying to make sense of his journey to find and keep love, friendship, and his musical career. It doesn’t hurt that Bad Blake is played by Jeff Bridges, who infuses Bad Blake with a sense of loss and world weariness that can be seen through each and every move. He also infuses a lot of wit and humor into his performance—his laconic drawl, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, a half cocked smile. It’s the little nuances that show you what an excellent actor Bridges can be, and it makes the film a pleasure to watch anytime he’s on screen (which is pretty much the entire film). Bridges even plays and sings his own songs in the film, and his stage persona during the performance scenes brings forward a naturalism that feels like he’s been on the road for years honing his craft. It’s the type of performance that already comes naturally to Bridges, but he fills in the blanks with such nuance and charisma that it becomes just so entertaining to watch.

While Bridges’ performance is the primary driving force behind the film, the supporting cast here is also strong enough to compliment him. Maggie Gyllenhaal, who plays the reporter Jean Craddock, effectively conveys the struggles of being both career-minded and a single mother, and her concern for Bad Blake also weighs heavy on her mind. Bad Blake’s protégé turned superstar Tommy Sweet (played effectively by Colin Farrell, who also sings his own songs) could have easily been set up as a ruthless antagonist, but by the time we met him, he’s respectful and loyal to Bad Blake, making sure not to forget his own roots. Robert Duvall (who played a washed up country star in 1983’s Tender Mercies) even shows up later as a bartender and an old friend of Bad Blake. Most of the conflict in the film comes from Bad Blake’s inner demons, and while it could have gone to darker places with Bad Blake’s alcoholism, it also doesn’t rely on being overly sentimental. The film seems to understand the toll a life on the road can take for a musician, and how lonely that life can often become.

Thanks to Bridges and company, effective writing and directing, and an excellent soundtrack, the film remains very enjoyable throughout (the soundtrack features both songs from Waylon Jennings and Townes Van Zandt and original songs written by T-Bone Burnett. “The Weary Kind”, written by Burnett and Ryan Bingham, shows its Van Zandt influence to create a song that is very effective. Also, original song “I Don’t Know” is highly infectious). The film may play it a little too conventional at times (more so during the final third of the film), and some of the subplots don’t seem necessary (Bad Blake trying to contact his son seems forced, and the film would not have lost anything if the whole subplot was cut altogether). For any of its faults, however, Crazy Heart more than compensates by containing one of the best lines in recent memory—there is a scene where Bad Blake is being interviewed by Jean in his hotel room. They’re obviously being flirtatious, and when she asks him what he wants to talk about, he replies, "I want to talk about how bad you make this room look. I never knew what a dump it was until you came in here." It’s the type of line that catches you off-guard, puts a smile on your face, and you like it immediately. Much like this film.

Rating: 4 stars (out of 5)

Le Samouraï (1967)

We are introduced with a quote from the “The Book of Bushido”, stating, “There is no solitude greater than a samurai's, unless perhaps it is that of a tiger in the jungle.'' We find ourselves in a spacious apartment room, sparsely furnished. The room is dark, but two large windows illuminate the space with the evaporating light of the sunset. The space at first seems uninhibited, but then we suddenly see a thick cloud of smoke slowly rise from a bed in the lower section of the frame. A man is smoking in bed. He gets up, puts on a trench coat and fedora, and walks outside onto a busy Paris street. He calmly hijacks a car, and pulls out a key ring consisting of what seems to be over one hundred keys. One by one, he methodically begins inserting keys into the ignition, finally finding one that works. He drives to a mechanic located in a remote location, who proceeds to change out the license plate. The unidentified man gets out of the car and holds out his hand. Is he offering a handshake? His stern look suggests otherwise. The mechanic opens a drawer and pulls out a gun and hands it to the man. The man gives the mechanic some cash and drives away, finally arriving at a woman’s apartment. As she is about the open the door, she says the man’s name—“Jef”. This is the first line of dialogue spoken in the film, occurring nearly ten minutes into the running time. What’s fascinating about these opening scenes is that we’ve learned everything we need to know about Jef, our protagonist, without even hearing a single word uttered. He is cold and methodical in his actions. He is a solitary man, choosing to live a life free from many possessions or much interaction. He is impeccably cool.

Jean-Pierre Melville’s excellent film Le Samouraï is well versed in cinema’s history and various genres, all while taking those conventions and paring them down to their essence all while adding a existentialist bent to the proceedings. Melville’s knowledge and love of past genres is always present, ranging from gangster films of the 30s, film noir of the 40s, samurai films of the 50s and even the French New Wave scene of the 60s. Even though these influences are always present, the film thankfully never feels like a rehash but instead creates its own character and style through Melville’s confident direction. There is hardly a wasted shot in this film, as we follow around hitman Jef Costello as he calmly, methodically goes about his day. We see him enter a nightclub and take out a hit on the owner in a back room. Unfortunately, he is seen by one of the singers, and he is later arrested and taken in for a police lineup and questioning. Most films would probably only spend a minute or two in the police headquarters and then get back to the action, but Melville chooses to create an entire extended scene out of the police headquarters, creating a highly engaging and captivating sequence. The entire time at the headquarters is also largely wordless, charged almost entirely through characters’ glances and psychological games, trying to get some answer out of any of the witnesses or to break any alibis. Jef’s clever thinking keeps his alibi sound, but the police inspector is dubious. On top of that, Jef’s arrest sends a red flag to his employer, who in turn decides to betray Jef. The story stays thrilling as Jef tries to elude all the forces that are after him, and the suspense is constant all the way up to the end.

Melville has crafted a film that is the epitome of cool but thankfully never feels like an empty exercise in style. The film takes conventional plot points (police procedural, assassin on the run, revenge, the code) and turns them into something that feels wholly unique just by stripping them down to their essence. Melville’s attention to detail also enhances both the characters and style of the film. Jef’s only worldly possessions besides clothes and little furniture seem to be rows and rows of water bottles, stacks of cigarettes, and a bird that he keeps in a cage in the middle of his apartment. The bird is a curious detail, but it even provides slight comic relief later in the film (Jef’s apartment is later bugged, and the cops get to listen to hours of tape of a bird chirping). Credit should also be given to cinematographer Henri Decaë for the film’s visual style, using a cool palette of blue and greys to convey not only the sparse interiors and dreary exteriors but also reflecting Jef’s mindset throughout the film. The acting is also top-notch all around, complimenting the film the entire way. Alain Delon gives an effective performance as a quiet, cold-blooded killer, only interested his code and his mission. He never relies on histrionics for the performance, choosing instead to introvert his character’s actions, in turn making his motives and determination all the more effective. Francois Perier, who plays the police inspector, also gives an incredible performance, creating a man determined at any cost to catch Jef on his bluff. The entire subway sequence is a master class in suspense and tension, all while creating a sense of claustrophobia for the main character as he tries to escape the cops. Film critic Roger Ebert also wrote, “The movie teaches us how action is the enemy of suspense--how action releases tension, instead of building it.” This is key to the film’s success, as it does not rely on typical action beats but rather trusts the viewer will find the story thrilling through the characters instead of action.

It’s easy to see how Le Samouraï has gone on to influence countless films, especially ones rooted in the crime drama. John Woo’s The Killer is proudly indebted, and I also immediately saw how this film’s minimalist style directly influenced the work of Jim Jarmusch (his 1999 film Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai also pays homage to Melville’s film). There is not a wasted scene in this film, and the patience the film shows with its story pays off in spades for the viewer. Melville’s masterful ability to create a sense of place through the most minimalist means creates a rich and rewarding viewing experience that will not be forgotten.

Rating: 5 stars (out of 5)

Birdemic: Shock and Terror (2008)

(note: before I begin the review, I want to direct everyone to Birdemic’s craptastic trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cgAbVfh6WYg

Incomprensible acting? Check? Mind-boggling special effects? Check. The incredible metal song proclaiming “THIS IS BIRDEMIC!!!!!”? Check. It’s everything you would want (and need) out of a trailer to make you excited about seeing this movie. In fact, it’s probably what you should watch instead of the movie.

Rating: 5 stars (out of 5)

Ok, now that we all have that out of our system, onto the review…)

Oh boy. This review may come as a shock (shock and terror, you say?) to some, and perhaps an obvious statement to others, but Birdemic: Shock and Terror is a terrible, terrible movie. Not even achieving “so-bad-it’s-good” status, Birdemic is content on being an incompetent, incoherent mess. About halfway through watching this wreck of a movie, I wondered, “Surely, this is just an elaborate joke being played on the audience—an endurance test of sorts.” Had I walked into a Lars Von Trier movie by mistake? Am I supposed to be provoked into a ball of frustration, anger, shock and…terror? I was definitely provoked, alright. But more on that later.

The movie opens with a nausea-inducing credits sequence, where the camera seems to have been placed in the passenger seat of a car driving through the northern California hills. We meet Rod and Nathalie, two twenty-somethings that meet cute and begin dating. He’s an engineer shopping ideas around for a “big sale” (did someone say….one million dollars?); she’s a model on her way to becoming the cover girl for Victoria’s Secret. After a night of “passion”, something goes awry—that’s right: birdemic! Cue the metal song (or not, since it’s nowhere to be found in the movie. I kind of wish it was. It at least would have added some fun to the proceedings.). The couple proceed to fight off birds with…coathangers….then make their escape with another couple to a van containing semi-automatic weapons. They then proceed to drive along the interstate, helping people along the way, shooting birds, and stopping for the occasional picnic outside (the birds conveniently leave our heroes alone while enjoying an afternoon picnic). They also encounter some strangers who proceed to tell them about the dangers of global warming and how the birds are just angry at all the people driving their cars and wasting fossil fuels. Then, (spoiler alert?), after many lives have been lost due to leaving the windows rolled down in their cars (or maybe it was the bad musak version of John Lennon’s “Imagine” that caused them to keel over) the birds get bored and fly away. Cue end credits. Seriously, they get bored and fly away. The end.

Director James Nguyen, self-proclaimed “Master of The Romantic Thriller™”, created the movie as a labor of love and owing an obvious debt to Alfred Hitchcock’s classic The Birds. The problem here isn’t the sincerity—it’s the actual lack of any talent whatsoever. Of which there is none to be seen. The acting is wooden at best. The movie has a home video quality to it, with no lighting choices to be seen. All the audio is recorded through the camera, so if a car passes by during a scene of dialogue, good luck deciphering what was just said. The editing is downright atrocious—some scenes go on much longer than is necessary, others seem to cut off abruptly. Any scene which has a character wax poetic about global warming brings the film to an absolute halt. The ending is downright lazy. And what to say of the CGI birds? They’re by far the best thing about the movie, and they are about the only source of comic relief from the director. The birds seem to envelop the whole of the screen, never portraying any sense of realism or depth perception in the slightest. They also seem to have the ability to leave explosive poop droppings, which at least made me laugh every time that happened—just out of the sheer absurdity of it all.

So what to make of Birdemic’s rising status as a cult movie among midnight movie circuit? The movie is less than two years old (and only this year has it seemed to gain a following, seeing multiple releases among selected theaters), but it has captured some sort of cultural zeitgeist (at least among the film geek crowd). Much like another recent midnight movie hit, Tommy Wisseau’s wonderfully awful The Room, Birdemic has been bringing people in expecting at least something so bad they could laugh and enjoy themselves. Upon attending the midnight screening at Nashville’s excellent Belcourt Theatre, we were informed that we would probably leave the movie “seething with rage and anger”. We all laughed it off, knowing that we were inflicting the pain ourselves. At least we would have a good time with it, we thought to ourselves. Uh-huh. Well, when the movie finished, we were definitely filled with rage, but that enjoyment factor never really arrived. As I walked out of the movie, I said aloud “well, that was just awful,” and everyone around me gave me a nod of approval. They were probably just as speechless as I felt. I just couldn’t believe it. I’ve seen plenty of terrible movies in my day—how did this one somehow trump them all?

The problem with Birdemic isn’t that it doesn’t try. It tries really, really hard. I never doubted its earnestness for a second. What makes me angry is that the filmmakers had to realize what they created was a steaming pile, and they decided to release it anyway. There seemed to be no effort to make it better—this is what was created, and this is what the audience will get, and they’ll like it (or not). You could say I brought this all upon myself by watching it (I mean, you watched the trailer, right? What did you expect?). However, what seems to separate Birdemic from most other terrible movies (The Room, Ed Wood’s work) might just come down to a kind of cult of personality. The Room is also awful, no doubt, but it has been lovingly embraced by its audience, creating a truly incredible theatrical viewing experience (really the only true way to watch The Room—I doubt watching the movie on DVD will render it anything but an awful train wreck). The other factor that benefits The Room is that its auteur, Tommy Wisseau, is a genuinely odd dude, but this fact also informs his entire film. You can’t escape it. You come to the realization that Tommy Wisseau the character (or Johnny in the movie) and Tommy Wisseau the man aren’t that much different. The same can be said for something like Ed Wood’s Glen or Glenda, a truly strange movie. Ed Wood spends half the movie walking around in women’s cardigan sweaters, and you get a sense this isn’t an act. This is a look into the man himself, and what you see is truly weird, confounding, and somehow memorable (in its own terrible way). I don’t get any of this watching Birdemic. The movie doesn’t get weird enough to become memorable, and I don’t even get the feeling that the director has contributed anything to this movie. I also don’t think the audience really gets the ability to latch onto anything and make it their own. That’s because there is nothing in here worth riffing on, unless it’s the groan inducing speeches about global warming being the reason the birds are attacking. This movie should not have been released to an audience. It makes most other terrible movies I’ve seen in my lifetime not as terrible by default. This just makes me wish I had watched The Room instead.

Rating: Zero stars (out of 5)

Ski School (1991)

Ski School is a third-rate Animal House, where the fun-loving party animals are pitted against the humorless preppy gang. That tells you pretty much everything you need to know about this venture. I wonder which group is going to win out in the end? If movies have taught me anything, then my guess is on the preppies. It’s the type of movie you would find on USA Network’s Up All Night programming block at two in the morning as you are drifting off into your dream state, where all your fantasies of becoming a slacker ski instructor can vividly come to life. It contains the all the comedic tropes and fashion sensibilities of a raunchy (even though it feels decidedly un-raunchy) film that would have been made in 1986, even though it wasn’t released until 1991. Seeing how it aims to be low-rate comedy, it comes packaged complete with your usual checklist of necessary details--sex, parties, alcohol, practical jokes, the “new guy”, the romantic interest, one-line zingers, a mysterious entrepreneur that could double as a prostitute, a skiing competition for the ownership of the mountain—you know, everything you could possibly want from any fun time! In its quest for verisimilitude, however, some questions still linger—namely, if the group of party animals are so lazy, how come they not only possess uncanny video editing skills (as seen in the scene where they edit the video of the two of the prepsters about to get into bed together—hilarity ensues!), but they also seem to have an unlimited supply of cash and resources at their disposal (note the endless cases of beer, the funds to host party after party of the entire mountain. Where is the riveting documentary on ski school I was promised?

It’s pretty obvious the filmmakers and actors were having fun with the material, no matter how flat the jokes land or how broad the characters are painted. It’s not aiming to be high art by any means, but it at least could have contained some (any) humorous scenes. Viewed in a time capsule, the movie does provide an interesting purgatory between the sensibilities of the 80s low-brow comedy with the existential phenomenon of Gen-X culture on the horizon (except for the fact that Richard Linklater’s breakthrough film Slacker came out the same year, so maybe Ski School was already dead on arrival). It was also most likely one of the direct influences for Hot Tub Time Machine. You probably already know exactly what type of movie this is. However, if you still aren’t quite sure yet, here’s a test—this Ferris Bueller-esque nugget of wisdom, spoken by the lovable Dave Marshak (Dean Cameron) in a pep talk, sums up everything about Ski School’s sensibility: “It’s not how far you go, it’s how go you far.” If you just looked at that with a dead-eyed stare, then it’s probably the same way you’ll feel about this movie. At least it didn't go as far as Birdemic.

Rating: ½ star (out of 5)