On The Road w/ Coogan and Brydon

The Trip is an odd film. A lot of people won’t like it, it won’t win many awards and in a million years it wouldn’t make for a passing grade in any university film course. Because nothing happens on The Trip. The characters are largely the same when they return as when they leave, there is no significant rising action, no obvious climax, the characters don’t set out with a tangible goal in the “Dorothy just wants to go home”-sense. But like many things that wouldn’t make for a passing grade in a university film course, The Trip is simply wonderful.

Playing slightly exaggerated versions of their real selves, UK comedians Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon set out on a restaurant tour in Northern England. We begin with Coogan half-heartedly inviting Brydon along when his elusive American girlfriend declines. Brydon asks “why me?” and Coogan plays it cool to a mildly insulting degree, insisting that Brydon is his last resort, thus establishing the complex, petulant and achingly real dynamic that becomes the highlight and purpose of the film.

Captain America, the set up

by Rachael Nisenkier

Watching Captain America feels a whole lot like watching a so-so pilot episode for a TV show you really want to watch. In there are all the elements that you know you’re one day going to love (more on that later), but the actual substance of the episode seems more about putting the pieces in place for the show to come than it is about what’s actually going on.

Anticipating the Avengers

by Rachael Nisenkier

I’m officially nervous.

It was sitting in the back of my brain during the post-credits sequence of Captain America. And as I breathlessly indulged in comic-con coverage on entertainment websites, it just sat back there, percolating, bubbling up into my cerebellum. It brings unbidden images of middling box-office numbers, critical dismissal, and fan eruptions of anger.

I’m nervous because Joss Whedon is directing and writing The Avengers! There, I said it.

I love Joss Whedon in a way most people reserve for people they’ve actually met. I love his easy going nature in interviews, the stories of Shakespeare parties, his feminist rantings. But mostly, I respect the crap out of his work. He’s a great writer and an increasingly impressive director, who has turned in some of the best episodes of television of the past twenty years. He’s played with the form and constantly seems to want to expand what he is capable of. He’s ambitious, innovative and intelligent. He’s also a huge nerd. His run as a writer on the X-Men comics was funny, smart and really true to the characters. His Buffy Season 8 comic managed to really take the form by the hand and lead it into this strange, mystical, uniquely Buffy world. And he imbues even his most mainstream work with his nerdy bonafides. So why does it scare the crap out of me that he’s helming The Avengers?

Friends with Partial Benefits and a Lot of Issues

I was really looking forward to Friends with Benefits. I think Mila Kunis is damn cool and love Justin Timberlake (especially now that he's in an acting phase of his existence instead of a music one); I've long been a fan of Patricia Clarkson (who is quickly become Hollywood's trademark "cool mom"), generally find Jenna Elfman adorable, admire Richard Jenkins and think Woody Harelson is a hoot. Add in small parts for the greatest young actress in Hollywood (Emma Stone), an SNL favourite (Andy Samberg), a lovely familiar face (Masi Oka), a child comedy upstart (Nolan Gould) and my long-lost One Tree Hill crush (Bryan Greenberg), and you've got me in the theatre for opening night.

The result is an enjoyable film, sweet, sort of funny, well-paced. It's also a hypocritical film, a predictable film and one that thinks it's a tad funnier and edgier than it is.

Mila and Justin do their jobs well- I can think of few romantic comedy pairings with their easy charm and superb chemistry. Their relationship develops well and they have some really truthful moments. But that's not enough to make a decent movie into a good movie. The script just isn't good enough.

Crazy, Stupid, Love- 3 movies, 1 title

by Rachael Nisenkier

Crazy, Stupid, Love’s mission statement is spelled out for you in its title. It’s one of those movies that proudly wears its ridiculous heart on its sleeve; its ultimate mission is to make you believe that it’s completely acceptable for a 13 year-old and his father to hijack an 8th grade graduation to make ridiculous declarations of love to the objects of their affection. It wants you to believe that the two adjectives before love in that title are not insults, but the natural order of things when you’re really, truly in love.

The trick of the movie is that it wraps all this romantic-comedy ridiculousness inside two other types of movies.

Goodbye and Thank You Harry

by Rachael Nisenkier

I have a long history with Harry Potter. I got the first book when I was 11. I read the last one my sophomore year of college. The books and movies have been there for me from pigtails to braces to paychecks, and everything in between. Last year, when Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1 came out, I unpacked my Harry Potter baggage here.* And when the movie came out, I reviewed part 1 here.

I start with my history because Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 is a uniquely reflective film. Every image in it has been built to reflect the movies that came before it. In the requisite movie marathon that came with the release of the newest film, I recognized one major shift in having David Yates take over the director’s chair for the last four films. Yates, maybe due to the benefit of having most of the books out for all of his movies, seems uniquely aware of and concerned for cinematic continuity and for creating a universe within the movies that makes sense, thematically, logically and emotionally. 

The films will never have the span of the book. They’ll never be able to fit in all the subplots, all the Ron Winning At Quidditch, all the Hermione Saves The House Elves, all the complicated bits of magical lore that explain possession of the Elder Wand. But where Yates excels is creating a cinematic universe that makes sense and to which Deathly Hallows Part 2 is a near perfect conclusion.

Cinematic Baggage and the Television Star

by Rachael Nisenkier 
(a joint article with My TV)

Sometimes it’s fun when your favorite TV star pops up in a movie (I know I got a little thrill every time I heard the erst-while Chuck’s voice coming out of Flynn Ryder's mouth in last year’s Disney offering Tangled). And sometimes you find yourself wondering, “Why is McDreamy being so mean to Shia LaBeouf?” Between Serena VanderWoodsen in The Green Lantern, McDreamy in Transformers, Charlie Kelly in Horrible Bosses, and Don Draper in Bridesmaids, I’ve spent more time than I am comfortable with this summer being incapable of keeping my TV world and my cinematic world separate.

Sometimes I forget about the actors' other roles (I certainly wasn’t thinking about Rachel Green while watching Jennifer Aniston prance around half naked in Horrible Bosses) and sometimes it adds to the experience (see also Charlie Day’s legal-speak rant). But sometimes it just makes me way harder on the characters and the actors than I would otherwise be.

I say all this in preparation for Cowboys and Aliens, where the erstwhile 13 and Marissa’s lesbian lover will be joining with James Bond to fight alongside Han Solo. To what extent are we capable of dropping off our cinematic baggage when we take on a new venture? And is it our fault, as the viewer, for being incapable of forgetting about roles both iconic and annoying, or the actor’s for not making us forget them? What performances have you found marred by what you’ve already seen of an actor or actress?

Awesomely Horrible Bosses

by Rachael Nisenkier

It’s hard to write about good comedies. Sometimes something clicks, and I can find some sort of narrative hook for writing about why, say, I find the jokes of I Love You Man so effective or why The 40 Year Old Virgin changed cinematic comedy. But sometimes you see a comedy and just think, “Damn. That was well done.” Such is the fate I find myself facing after seeing Horrible Bosses.

This movie fulfills its purpose in every way. It does a fantastic job crafting bosses evil enough that you can actually find some sympathy in the plotting of their murders. It creates protagonists who are at once likable, and believable, in a hapless way, in their ability to murder their own bosses. And it sustains comedic tension while only briefly pushing the boundaries of believable cinematic vision. That it does all this while remaining stubbornly filthy and goofy is a testament to how well done this film is.

From its across-the-board fantastic cast (Colin Farrell and Jennifer Aniston, in particular, play well on their established personas) to its absurdist leanings (not going to spoil the joke, but the punchline with the Jamie Foxx character was enough to redeem that actor for me), this is otherwise-disposable comedy done really well.

 I’m someone who rewatches comedies a lot. And I can always tell if I love a comedy movie if about halfway through I realize I'll go back and watch it again. I was ready to rewatch Horrible Bosses about ten minutes in.

Playing with my Affections

Something Borrowed was a movie that I 75% loved. I loved it; I was ready to declare it my favourite rom com of the year. Ginnifer Goodwin, perhaps the most likable actress on the planet, plus my beloved John Krasinski and his wonderfully developed sense of irony- it was a winning combination. Even Kate Hudson was perfectly cast, and I never think Kate Hudson is perfectly cast.

For the sake of my love of that first 75%, we're going to pretend the last 25% doesn't exist for a little while, just while I work through my love and prepare myself for the worst. Bear with me, this is a totally rational approach. IT IS! Okay, shut up.

There's more after the jump.

Green Lantern and his panty-wearing friends

by Rachael Nisenkier

I have a theory. I like to call it the “panties of justice*” theory. It’s about what separates easily adapted superheroes from the ones who seem to struggle on their way to the multiplex. It’s basically the difference between Batman and Wonder Woman. Both are noble creatures with a complicated, fascinating backstory and great personal strength. Yet one of them fights crime while wearing a state of the art suit of body armor, and one wears the panties of justice. In the world of comic books, or their cartoon adaptations, the panties of justice look just fine. We buy into them. But on the big screen? It’s hard to take a heroine seriously who chooses to outfit herself in what amounts to little more than a patriotic bathing suit.

The Feminist Argument

My Cinema's senior staff writer Rachael disagrees with Kelly's thoughts on Bridesmaids (found here). So we thought we'd publish her article too, and let you decide. The last time this disparity happened we ended up with two of our most popular and most controversial articles ever (Black Swan: Love and Hate). Read on after the jump for Rachael's feminist take on Bridesmaids, Bad Teacher, Transformers and more.