Return of the buddy film . . .

Director Guy Ritchie’s retelling of the classic Doyle character Sherlock Holmes is a lot of things, but obviously “traditional” is not one of them.

So there’s really only one question to answer here when it comes to assessing Sherlock Holmes: Does rebooting a traditionally stuffy franchise into an action-packed buddy film automatically qualify said film as “bad”?

Your answer:  No.  Unless you’re a purist, then the answer is yes.  And if you’re a purist, stay away from this one.  You’ve got better things to do with your time, I’d imagine, than watch some upstart actor take Doyle’s timeless detective and turn him into an awesome, wise cracking, loveable hybrid of Bugs Bunny, Sergeant Martin Riggs and a traditional Holmes.

Just stay home and steep in that new Poirot box set you got for Christmas.

For the rest of us, this new Holmes–animated by the currently untouchable Robert Downey Jr.–is quirky, loud, hilarious, over the top, and most importantly, a lot of fun.  And if you assess this Holmes movie on what it’s intended to do (instead of what it doesn’t emulate) you’ll have as much of a blast watching it as Downey Jr. and Jude Law (as Dr. Watson) had making it.

Without Downey Jr. in the lead role this movie would clearly be an epic flop, but his stock is so high right now that if I could make a movie where Downey Jr. watches paint peel for 120 minutes I’d clear $40-50 million on opening day alone.

So the charm of Sherlock Holmes is actually two fold:  First, it’s a great reboot that features Holmes and Watson as one step short of comic book superheroes (because they aren’t wearing spandex and capes) and second, this is just a vehicle for Downey Jr. to show off how awesome it is to be Downey Jr.

But Sherlock Holmes is by no means perfect. Yes, it’s a literal blast, but addictive performances aside the overall feel of Sherlock Holmes is disjointed at times.

There are pretty major jumps from scene to scene with little explanation as to why we’re watching Holmes and Watson root though a certain person’s house, for example, nor is there any kind of continuity in scenes where a character is being chased through the sewers only to end up several stories above London on an unfinished bridge only seconds afterwards.

That sort of thing makes a film feel jerky, and while it’s a perfectly acceptable plot device to keep the audience in the dark as to why Holmes does certain things (it makes the reveal that much more impressive when Holmes puts every detail together at the end) it also leads me to believe that a huge portion of the movie ended up on the cutting room floor.  Probably because they contained scenes where nothing exploded.

It’s also going to take you a little while to get acclimated to the dialogue, specifically Downey Jr.’s speech patterns.  It’s almost as if his vocal coach (assuming he had one) did too good of a job with the dialect. I thought Downey Jr. nailed the accent, but when you combine that accent with Downey Jr.’s mannerisms (acting style) and the fact that his version of Holmes is a fast talking savant, it initially just comes across as mumbling.  It’s fine once you get used to it but it does take getting used to, meaning you’re too busy trying to figure out what’s being said to keep up with any exposition.

Jude Law doesn’t have that problem.  Dr. Watson is the straight man in this duo so he’s a much calmer person with a much calmer speaking voice.  It’s a great compliment to Holmes, and together, Law and Downey Jr. are a great pair that effortlessly exchange one-liners and witty banter we don’t get to see a lot of these days, so thumbs up to Michael Robert Johnson, Anthony Peckham and Simon Kinberg for their screenplay.

It’s also very clear that Ritchie wants a sequel and might even have dreams of turning this one into an entire franchise.  The film’s villain, Lord Blackwood (played by London born Mark Strong and is a clear frontrunner for the “Hey, is that Andy Garcia’s younger brother?” award), is essentially a plot device to usher in the presence of Holmes’ shadowy foil, Professor James Moriarty (who’s only listed in the credits as “Anonymous Man”).

In that regard, Sherlock Holmes is a kind of, “I have to tell you this story so I can tell you a better one” kind of movie, and I, for one, hope it does well enough at the box office for Ritchie to run wild with future installments.

I’d like more of this duo, and I’m fine with a resurgence of the buddy formula–especially if the duo is Jude Law and Downey Jr.

I miss the buddy film, and I’m glad it’s back.

–Joey Alfino, Red Editorial Staff

  Hey Molière, we need to borrow this for a minute . . .

How to save a movie, Step one: cast Meryl Streep.  Step two:  cast Alec Baldwin.  Step three: talk Steve Martin into coming out of hiding.  Step four: cross your fingers and hope no one notices how unnoticeable your movie would be without the previous three steps.

This seems to be the path writer/director Nancy Meyers is sticking to with It’s Complicated, not that she’s ever really strayed from it.  Meyers’ past directing credits include the similar feeling Something’s Got to Give and The Holiday.

Uh-oh.  Before my criticism (pessimism?) spirals out of control, I should probably be clear in saying It’s Complicated is actually a really fun movie.  It has its charm and its fair share of irresistible laughs thanks to Streep and especially Alec Baldwin, who steals this show hands-down from his counterparts.

Baldwin is the King of loveable meatheads, and if what Baldwin is saying about quitting acting in 2010 is true, I’ll miss him.

That said, It’s Complicated is really little more than a modern retelling of a late 17th to early 18th century-style Renaissance comedy. You’ve got the penitent rake (Baldwin) trying to woo back his ex wife (Streep), while a suitor (Steve Martin) gets caught in the middle. Meyers even remembers to include the lewd and witty ribaldry.

And that’s fine.  It’s a tested and reliable method of grabbing a laugh, but It’s Complicated might suffer with audiences on account of its insincerity.  Streep, Baldwin and Martin do the best they can with what they’ve been given, but Meyers (who also wrote this one) just doesn’t flesh out her characters very well here.  This is especially true of Steve Martin’s character, Adam.

This role literally could have played by anyone, and as long as that actor was the right age, it wouldn’t have made a bit of difference.  Adam feels like a plot device, not a person, and it certainly doesn’t feel like it was written (or even tweaked) for Martin to be the performer we know he is.

This is a perfect example of a Hollywood product film, churned out of the machine just in time for Christmas and relying on its big name cast to hide its elitist flaws and disconnecting subject matter.  It’s not enough to drown the movie, but it’s still prominent and impossible to ignore because It’s Complicated is the kind of movie that presents itself to you from a pedestal.

It’s above you, laughing at your puny tax bracket while it tells a story of what a certain set of people in California have to worry about while driving their Porches to their ex-wife’s picturesque house on a scenic hill to continue a tryst that began at a ridiculously expensive hotel in New York and threatens to come crashing down because said ex-wife is also falling for a high-dollar architect that’s planning what has to be a million dollar addition to a multi-million dollar home.

It’s probably just me, but I don’t know who these people are.  I can’t relate to them.  And what passes for a “problem” in their lives hardly seems like a problem to me, and even if it is, I can see by their lifestyles that they’ll be just fine.

It’s not that I didn’t care about these people, but it was difficult to feel any genuine concern for them, either.  Sure, extramarital affairs are tricky, but considering their lifestyles, financial situations and the fact that marital infidelity has happened to every major character in this movie before (and they ended up just fine then, too), I didn’t feel compelled to fret for them.

Now, I admit, it’s not fair of me to point this out and consider it a valid gripe because I doubt Nancy Meyers was trying to elicit mountains of concern from us with this film.  It’s a comedy, after all, and should be seen as such.

And as a comedy–a slapstick, pseudo-raunchy comedy with plenty of awkwardly hilarious situations–it’s a success.  But if this film is being billed as a “romantic comedy” or a “heartwarming story,” well . . . that’s just off the mark.

Molière would love it, though.

–Joey Alfino, Red Editorial Staff

  $300 million buys you a pretty movie.

James Cameron’s Avatar is cinematic evolution unfolding right before your eyes in a blazing 161 minutes that cost $300 million (plus?) to make.  Yeah, $300 million for 161 minutes.  That’s $1,863,354 per minute, or roughly $30,000 per second. It is a huge, massive beast of a film that must be seen on the big screen.

And it’s worth every penny, because Avatar isn’t really a movie.  It’s an amusement park.

For those of you who read these reviews regularly (have I said, “I love you” today?), I like to think you do so because you find my taste in movies similar to yours.  So trust me when I say watching Avatar should top your list of priorities as something to do as soon as humanly possible.  The end.

I’ll get to the specifics of why it’s so important shortly, but first, I’d be remiss as a film critic if I didn’t address the one caveat that other critics are getting hung up on when discussing Avatar; the one thing that’s ruining the film for them: the story.

You’ll hear some people accuse Cameron of being an awful storyteller, that Avatar has a campy, corny and weak script.  These people headed into the movie looking for something to hate, and they found what they wanted.  This might come as a shock, but nobody pays $300 million for a script.  Nobody.

I’ll agree that Avatar has a basic and even pedestrian story line, but to call it campy is unfair and misses the point of the movie entirely.  At its core, Avatar is a fairytale that falls well within the boundaries of Joseph Campbell’s monomyth formula.  So does Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Harry Potter and just about any other mega budget Hollywood yarn that people go nuts for.

Cameron’s script is as solid as it needs to be to make this world believable, and if it helps, this story is exponentially more engaging than Cameron’s Titanic (which, in case you didn’t know, is the highest grossing movie of all time in the history of Earth.)

It’s the way Avatar executes its simple fairytale that’s the point here, bringing me back to why this movie is not only special, but important as well.

James Cameron has never really been known for his writing.  Cameron is known for his diligence in pushing the envelope of what’s even possible in cinema.  Or, to be specific, by the time James Cameron gets done making a movie, the tools and technology the rest of Hollywood uses will be better off for it.

Here’s fact for you.  Did you know that part of Avatar’s budget was used to develop a digital camera that didn’t even exist before Cameron needed one?  In order to give audiences the technological vision he wanted, he had to invent new technology.  And guess what’s going to happen to that technology now?  Others will use it.

Forget about making a good movie, kids.  That’s called “Advancing the medium,” otherwise known as “progress,” and it’s stupefying to see how far we’ve come these days.

Avatar takes place on an alien planet called Pandora.  The human race has landed there to mine a precious metal Earth desperately needs, and they need it so badly that genocide isn’t out of the question when it comes to dealing with Pandora’s native inhabitants, the 10-foot tall Na’vi.

But diplomacy isn’t entirely dead here, and in order to try and coexist with the Na’vi, scientists have cloned Na’vi bodies which are controlled by linking a human driver to it in the same fashion as Neo jacked in to the Matrix (without sticking a shiv into anyone’s brain).

It only takes about six minutes to figure out where this is going and how this one is going to end, but again, twist endings aren’t Cameron’s bag (for example: “Oh, hey, I wonder if the Titanic is going to sink at the end of this movie?”)  Yes, the Titanic is going to sink, yes, the Na’vi are going to war with the humans, and hell yes, it’s going to be the most amazing visual experience you’ve ever had.

In 3D.

And that’s the other thing worth mentioning here.  I screened Avatar on a standard screen in 3D and was blown away.  I’m not sure I could handle it in IMAX, but I’m going to try (yes, I’m seeing it again).  I like my chances.  I like my chances because Cameron’s use of 3D technology in Avatar isn’t an excuse to use every 3D gimmick in the book.

Swords or bullets don’t sail over your head, nor to you find yourself having to “duck” when things seem to fly right at you.  Avatar doesn’t attack you or fly off the screen into your face.  Instead, it retreats.  Yes, images sometimes leap off the screen, but for the most part the world of Avatar begins at the screen and goes on forever and ever–layer upon layer of depth and detail until the horizon, which you’ll swear is miles away.

Avatar is a game changer, folks.  It sets a new technological standard, and in the same way that The Beatles brought chords to America, James Cameron brings the future to you.

And it’s really, really pretty.

–Joey Alfino, Red Editorial Staff.

  You’re in here somewhere.

Director Jason Reitman has mentioned that his new film, Up in the Air, is “the most personal film I’ve ever made,” and it’s not a stretch to see why that’s true.  Aside from Up in the Air being one of the most personal films I’ve ever seen, this film has something in it that movies rarely have anymore: us.

It succeeds in doing what most movies fail to do; it appeals to the here and now, the everyman, the Kevin Kline in all of us.  And because of that, Up in the Air is something better than a movie.  It’s an honest, accurate, relatable and human thought . . . and if the Golden Globe nominations are any indicator (they usually are) it’s also a thought with “Oscar” written all over it.

George “Oscar Nod” Clooney plays Ryan Bingham, who describes himself as a “Termination Facilitator.”  This is a nice euphemism for “the guy you never want to see in your office,” as Bingham’s job is telling people they don’t have one anymore.  He works for a company that deals in mass layoffs, perfect for the boss who needs to make the “hard decision” to let people go but is too weak to be a person about talking to them.

It’s a job that keeps Bingham moving.  He swoops in, delivers the news, and swoops out again.  It’s the “swooping out” part that Bingham particularly loves.  He’s a road warrior, spending more time above the ground than he does on it.  He loves the lack of permanence, lack of commitment, the lightweight lifestyle.

Bingham has an office but he’s never there.  He’s got an address and a depressingly sterile one-bedroom apartment (in the bustling metropolis of Omaha) that’s so sparse it can’t even be considered a bachelor pad.  He believes in stereotypes because they’re faster–face it, Ryan Bingham is an a-hole and he’d really be an off putting character if it weren’t for Clooney’s ability to undercut everything he does with the most irresistible charm in the entire Clooneyverse.

You can’t help but root for the guy, because despite his despicable profession we know there’s a good man under there–he’s just displaced.  But everyone in Up in the Air is displaced in one fashion or another.

It’s not until he meets Alex Goran (Vera Farmiga), his female doppelganger, and suddenly has to deal with an unwanted change in his professional status quo brought on by a young upstart employee, Natalie Keener (Anna Kendrick), that Bingham starts to realize the benefits of stability–or at least consider them.

But instability is the norm for this dramedy, and it’s also the norm in today’s economy.  That’s what makes Up in the Air such an enjoyable experience: it’s timely. Jason Reitman made the choice to cast actual people who’ve lost their jobs in his movie as the random employees Bingham fires during the film.  Word on the street says Reitman was nervous about doing it, but he shouldn’t have been.  Why hire a bunch of actors to portray those emotions when you can shine a light on the real deal?  It doesn’t get more honest than that.

But not only does this choice deepen the film’s honesty, it opens the door for us as well by making the film appear small (in a good way).  Here’s what I mean:

All too often, Hollywood pumps out a “heartwarming comedy” or “quirky romance” that might, if it’s lucky, have a smattering here and there of feelings and situations we can relate to.  Maybe.  This is not to say those movies don’t have their niche, but mostly, they’re hyperbolic narratives that leave us thinking, “Oh, wouldn’t it be great if things actually happened that way?”

See?  It’s nice, but too large.

Up in the Air doesn’t have that problem.  It’s small.  It’s simple.  It’s smart.  It’s sneaky.  It’s believable, thanks to the not-actors opposite Clooney, and modest thanks to the film’s locations.  Up in the Air takes place largely in the Midwest–flyover America.  St. Louis, Omaha and Wichita are all featured in the film, places rarely thought of by those in movie biz.

Where most films alienate an audience, Up in the Air includes us.  Hell, “us” is even in it, and I’m willing to bet a piece of you is in there somewhere, too.

Watch this one before the Oscars, folks.  It’ll be on the quiz.

–Joey Alfino, Red Editorial Staff

I Love Oscar Season

Avid moviegoers know that when a director makes things look easy, they never really are.  It’s one of those things about the arts:  you’ve got to be talented to make it look like any schmoe off the street can make a good movie without breaking a sweat.

Invictus is one of those movies, and Clint Eastwood is one of those directors.  By most accounts, those who’ve been directed by Eastwood say he’s a dream to work with.  His directorial style begins and ends with casting, and if he picks you to be in a movie it’s because you’re already right for the role, making Eastwood one of the most efficient directors I’ve ever seen.

Eastwood’s talent is firmly rooted in his uncanny ability to gauge talent in others.  He’s got the eye.  All you have to do is see Grand Torino to know Eastwood is the master of finding the best talent you’ve never heard of.  With Invictus, Eastwood does it again, taking an inspirational story and, with the exception of Morgan Freeman and Matt Damon, filling it with people you’ve never heard of . . . and that you can’t wait to hear from again.  This is best thing about the movie, and I’ll tell you why in a minute.

If you’ve even seen half of the trailer for Invictus, you know what it’s about.  The story is simple, following the Springboks, South Africa’s rugby team, and their improbable run to the finals of the 1995 Rugby World Cup.  On the surface Invictus is your basic underdog story dripping with “can do” spirit and optimism, but dismissing it as only that is a mistake.

Invictus is really about politics, risk and reward.  It’s not a story about sports, but rather a story about the power of it.  We get reminded of this constantly here in the states.  Every year during the Super Bowl we have to sit through a heavy handed montage of some player’s personal triumph shot through a soft focus lens, and we’ll be buried in it during the Winter Games as well.

But Eastwood is a master storyteller, and the reason Invictus doesn’t fall prey to cheese ball, soft focus optimism is because of its honesty and grit.  It feels real.  More to the point, it doesn’t feel like an overblown, highly stylized celebration of love and harmony.

Eastwood accomplishes this feel with casting.  Again, with the exception of Damon and Freeman, the rest of the cast feels thoroughly (and refreshingly) pedestrian.  Sure, they’re all actors that have been in other projects here and there, but nothing huge, and that gives the film an intimate feel, a tinge of honesty that other triumph-in-the-face-of-adversity films don’t have.

And as far a general plot and character structures are concerned, there really isn’t a single antagonist.  The antagonist here is the political climate that Mandela (expertly voiced by Freeman, by the way) is trying to mend, making all the characters in this film overwhelmingly likeable. The dynamic between Mandela’s white and black personnel (especially his security detail) is tense and eventually humorous before it ends up being comforting.  These relationships are tangible, relatable, and rare in movies these days.

Add all of it up, throw in an excellent performance from Matt Damon as the understated Springboks team captain Francois Pienaar, and you’ve got a wonderfully inspirational tale that’s honest enough to justify the lump in your throat by the time it’s all over.

I love Oscar season.

–Joey Alfino, Red Editorial Staff

  The Return of Tom Joad

If I were to encounter Cormac McCarthy in a dark alley, and if Cormac McCarthy had read what I’m about to say before that encounter, he would no doubt gut me like livestock.  But the odds of that are negligible, so I’m going to risk it:

To me, The Road, which is based on Cormac McCarthy’s book of the same name, feels like The Grapes of Wrath.

There are a couple of reasons for this.  First, The Grapes of Wrath is my all-time favorite novel; because of this, maybe I’m seeing similarities that aren’t really there.  Second, while the characters are not comparable between the two stories, the feel of it certainly is–the drudgery, the journey, the endless, hollow thumping.

But, and this should put things in perspective for you, The Grapes of Wrath contains more hope and promise for its characters than The Road.  And you thought the Joads had it bad . . .

What little narrative there is in The Road (more on that in a minute) follows two characters. Viggo Mortensen plays the father, Kodi Smit-McPhee plays the son.  We are never told these characters’ names because it doesn’t matter who they are, only what they are.

That’s the thing with McCarthy.  He’s only going to give you what you need in a story, never what you want.  He’s not interested in names or answers; McCarthy is only interested in the raw emotion and experience of the journey, never the destination.

For example, The Road takes place in a post apocalyptic America.  But we don’t know how things got that way.  It doesn’t matter how the world was ruined because it doesn’t matter to the characters.  All the characters can do is move forward, so lamenting over why things are the way they are is a waste of time. This same philosophy explains why names are irrelevant in this world.  Names are too personal.  People are born, people die, life is hard . . . but it always persists.

This also explains why The Road doesn’t really have much of a narrative because, again, we aren’t interested in one here.  The Road is an examination of the human condition under the most extreme circumstance, and how persistence, or as the movie puts it, “the fire inside” soldiers on.  Sort of like that turtle in Chapter 3 of The Grapes of Wrath.

So to some of you, The Road will offer a much less rewarding experience than No Country for Old Men, which was far and away a more accessible mainstream film containing a clearer narrative, a clear protagonist and antagonist, etc.

As a trade, though, what little substance The Road contains is very, very potent. Viggo Mortensen turns in a staggering performance as a father whose love for his son knows no limit, and he’s willing to do anything, and I mean anything, to protect him.

Viggo slimmed waaaay down for this role and is certainly challenging Daniel Day-Lewis for what a method actor is willing to do to his body for a role.  Even Charlize Theron, whose screen time is limited to flashbacks containing scant dialogue, commands attention as Viggo’s beleaguered and defeated wife.

I have to say, though, that the defining moment of the movie comes from a short cameo featuring Robert Duvall, who delivers one of the most memorable lines I’ve ever heard.  It’ll stick with you long after you’ve left the theatre, but so will The Road as a whole.

You might not realize it at first, but this movie, like The Grapes of Wrath, actually contains a very beautiful message despite its bleak packaging.  There are more than a few uncomfortable moments, but all of those moments are born out of what it really means to protect a family and that’s a beautiful thing no matter what you wrap it in.

Like No Country, The Road pretty much screams Oscar nod with every frame and you can be damn sure that Viggo will get nominated for this one, but unlike No Country, it’s not as accessible to audiences and therefore might take a comparative hit at the box office.

Yes, it’s an amazing treatment and many say it’s the best adaptation of a book to the screen ever, but it’s also the kind of thing that actors want to play more than audiences want to see.

Despite it’s narrow appeal, this is still a very powerful movie that will make you realize how many things you’ve got to be thankful for during the Holidays . . .

Like food, for example.

–Joey Alfino, Red Editorial Staff

  Dude!  Even the blood is bleeding!

This movie is without doubt the most ridiculous thing I’ve seen in a very, very long time . . . and I had a blast with it.

Ninja Assassin, like the late ’80’s explosion of such tour de force performances as Michael Dudikoff’s American Ninja, Van Damme’s Bloodsport and Steven Seagal’s Above the Law, doesn’t even try for one bloody second to hide what it’s here to do: to carve up as many people as possible in 99 minutes without getting bogged down by trivial things like “plot,” “dialogue” and “acting.”

No sir, you won’t find any of those here.  Not because they aren’t important, but because there are just too many heads to cleave in Ninja Assassin to stop and act.  Besides, anytime any character does slow down to do something as stupid as “emote,” someone else cuts his head off.  So better to keep it moving, eh?

What little there is of a plot can be summed up by one word: revenge.  That’s always the case when you make a film that kicks ass like it’s 1986.  Some bad guys killed the good guy’s wife or daughter or girlfriend or love interest or entire family–whatever–now the bad guys will pay.  No amount of reality (or even physics) can stand in the way of retribution.

That’s it.  Don’t bother looking for anything more because it’s not there.  And don’t get bent out of shape when you find out the deepest thing about this movie are the lakes of blood left on the floor after our hero, Raizo (played by South Korean pop singer Rain), mows down a room full of ninjas using a cracked out pocket knife attached to a chain.

For the love of Pete, folks, the movie is called Ninja Assassin.  Did you really expect to see a movie written by Tom Stoppard? I should hope not.  In fact, the only moments when the movie drags are when people speak.

But the rest of the time is a bloodbath so intense that even the blood bleeds.  It makes Kill Bill look like a Disney movie, and it’s so much fun because the ridiculous nature of the gore and stupefying fight choreography make Ninja Assassin less of an action film and more of a live-action anime that’s so over the top you can’t help but laugh as the bad guys get cut to ribbons.

But even the ribbons are cut to ribbons here.  In the world of Ninja Assassin, cutting someone in half isn’t good enough.  They must be cut into thirds, and that makes Ninja Assassin my new favorite guy movie.

Raizo was groomed to be a secret assassin along with other orphans, but apparently every other ninja in this world dropped out of ninja school early.  Or maybe they were interns.  A room full of 50 or so of Raizo’s so-called “peers” drop like flies against him, appearing about as useless as the Foot Clan against the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Swords are sharp enough to cut the fabric of time and slide though bodies like bones are made of butter.  Sure, Raizo was part of the oldest, most secretive group of assassins in the known universe, but that’s not going to stop the ninjas from killing each other during rush hour traffic. Way to stay out of sight, fellas.

I guess it doesn’t matter if they’re seen, though, since the ninjas can literally turn to mist, as long a room is dark enough.

What’s that?  “Ridiculous!” you say?

Yes.  Yes it is.  And that’s the point.  No plot. No reality. No apologies. No problem.

It’s just martial arts action for the sake of martial arts action, and as long as a movie like this doesn’t try and take itself seriously it can be a great time.  Fortunately for us, Ninja Assassin is perfectly aware of how ridiculous it is.  It’s also perfectly aware of its own slim $50 million budget, and it also knows it’ll do well enough at the box office (and on DVD release) to warrant a sequel.  And why not?

After all, Hollywood turned out five American Ninja movies . . .

–Joey Alfino, Red Editorial Staff

  I didn’t see it coming, either.

Here’s something I never thought I would ever say:  I love a Sandra Bullock movie.

The Blind Side, a typical, based-on-a-true-story feel good factory movie, is aptly titled. I headed into this film dubiously, building it up in my head to be another triumph in the face of adversity showcase dripping with cheesy moments at every turn.  And in many ways, it is.  But in this case presentation is everything, and despite my cynicism headed into the theatre, The Blind Side . . . well . . . it blindsided me.

The Blind Side tells the true story of Michael Oher (played by newcomer Quinton Aaron) and his rags to riches journey from homeless kid to top NFL Draft pick. Sandra Bullock nails her role as Leigh Anne Tuohy, a southern socialite whose daily schedule consists of lunch and interior design, and whose definition of a holiday meal is finding a caterer.

But despite the Tuohy family’s elite social status they all have level heads and don’t come across as snobs to the less fortunate, confounding grumps like me who usually default to negative stereotypes about rich, shallow, judgmental people (southern or otherwise).

Nonetheless, the Tuohy family is as morally well of as they are financially, so when Leigh Anne sees young Michael Oher wandering the streets at night in the dead of winter without any warm clothes she doesn’t hesitate to do the Christian thing and offer him a warm place to sleep.

The decision is made easier with the help of the Tuohys’ young son S.J. (Jae Head) who seems to be the only kid at school nice enough to talk to Michael.  Everyone else at the private Christian school they both attend wants little to do with such a large, imposing African American outsider who hails from the wrong side of the tracks.

The Blind Side plays heavily to the “gentle giant” formula when dealing with Michael Oher, and if you watch any junket interviews with Quinton Aaron, you’ll see it’s not much of a stretch.  In the movie, Oher’s I.Q. is negligible and his social skills are close to nonexistent.  The only reason he was even admitted to his school was on the recommendation of the football coach, who saw huge opportunities to get him on the team.

The only problem is that Oher’s marks would never allow him to qualify for the roster, but thanks to help from the Tuohy family, he’ll get an unprecedented chance to change all that.

The formula for The Blind Side, if you haven’t figured it out by now, is nothing new.  We’ve seen this sort of moral victory yarn time and time and time again, but as I mentioned earlier, the presentation is everything.

There’s a reason why studios will never stop making films in this vein: it works.  But the trick to making it work is to respect and recognize that audiences are exposed to stories like this an awful lot, so it has to offer something to a wide demographic and set itself apart with its characters.

This is a canned thing to say, but I’m going to say it anyways.  The Blind Side works because it has something for everyone.  It’s got a great family message, it caters to the female demographic (though I can’t officially call it a “chick flick” because my girlfriend will kill me) and it’s about football so it’ll be easy for wives to sell it to husbands who see the trailers and groan.

But aside from that, aside from the triumph-in-the-face-of-adversity angle and the sometimes cheesy family first moments, there are two things that make The Blind Side stick to your soul like chicken soup.

First, Sandra Bullock’s feisty character is terribly addictive.  From her rant at the DMV to her brazen attitude while watching Michael’s football practice (and emasculating the head coach) Bullock is just plain fun to watch from start to finish.

Second, and even more importantly, is the relationship we see between Michael and young S.J. Tuohy.  They’re probably one of the more loveable pairs I’ve seen on screen in some time, and watching young S.J. spend time with Michael (as Michael’s personal trainer as well as adoptive kid brother) evokes what I can only describe as a Calvin and Hobbes kind of likeability.

I can’t go so far as to support some of my colleagues’ claims that Bullock’s performance is Oscar material, but in what’s looking to be a year of slim pickings in the female lead category I wouldn’t be surprised to see her nominated.  Still, this is by far the best Bullock has ever been on screen (Crash included) and at the risk of using yet another canned phrase, The Blind Side is, at the moment, the feel good movie of the year.

Yeah, I didn’t see it coming either.

–Joey Alfino, Red Editorial Staff

  A beginner’s guide to simple allegory.

It would be the easiest thing in the world for me to slam Planet 51 from the perspective of a man in his early 30’s, but I’d feel guilty doing it.  Like picking on a child for telling a joke he loves off a Laffy Taffy wrapper.

So yes, let me be far from the first to tell you that Sony Pictures’ new computer animated comedy (that flips the script on alien invasions in the same way Orson Welles reversed Othello) is not that good.  I’d also like to be the first to tell you that, when it comes to kid movies like this, “not that good” does not automatically mean “really bad.”  It’s just simple.

Planet 51 is set on an alien world where everyone is stuck in the 1950’s.  Not only are they stuck in the 50’s, they’re stuck in OUR planet’s 1950’s.  They even listen to the same Top 40 playlist (Lollipop, Mr. Sandman, Be Bop a Lula, etc.) and obsess over the same alien invasion films where “humanoids” enslave the planet.   What’s that?  Don’t buy it?  Meh, get over it.  It’s a kids movie.  You’ll survive.

But along with the 50’s soundtrack and lifestyle on Planet 51 comes a McCarthyist intolerance for the unknown that Planet 51’s inhabitants are pretty comfortable with, especially the military.

So when “alien” American astronaut Chuck Baker (Dwayne Johnson) lands on the planet and discovers it’s actually inhabited, it’s no surprise that he isn’t made to feel welcome.

Chuck eventually meets Lem (Justin Long), who has a more liberal foreign policy when it comes to interplanetary relations, and it’s Lem and his friends who rise to the task of returning Chuck safely to his ship while simultaneously teaching his entire planet about the ugliness of intolerance and how it’s much better to accept those who are different from you instead of shooting at them.

Awwww.  What a wonderfully cute way to introduce your children to allegory.

But for the rest of us adult folk, Planet 51 is kind of a drag for a few reasons.  First, they missed a great opportunity to make this move accessible to parents.  It attempts to do this through a litany of pop-culture Sci-Fi references to every major sci-fi film ever made: a pet dog is a cute little H.R. Giger alien, a shot from E.T., a Close Encounters joke, etc. etc., but it just doesn’t work.

The problem is that Planet 51 isn’t very clever about incorporating these references into the narrative.  The E.T. scene, for example, just pops up so we can point at the screen and say, “Hey, that’s from E.T.!” but it doesn’t really serve any other purpose within the world.  The references are just sort of there, and almost felt like a prop to keep older viewers interested than actual, perceptible wit.

And this brings up the second drag about Planet 51:  It’s funny, but never witty, and it’s wit that makes a kids movie funny for parents, too.  This is a pretty big letdown when you consider Joe Stillman, the same guy who had me in stitches when he wrote Shrek, wrote Planet 51.

So what we’re left with here is a movie the kids will enjoy, but it’s so rudimentary to adults that it just comes across as tedious.  There’s likely more enjoyment for parents in watching their children have fun than watching the screen.

But hey, the kids are the point here.  And what your kids will get out of Planet 51 is a fun time watching a well intentioned and beautifully rendered animated film with a fine message.

There.  Let’s all hug and go home.

–Joey Alfino, Red Editorial Staff

  All effect, no cause

2012 (and its 2 hour and 40 minute run time) can be summed up in one sentence:  Scientists discover the world is going to end . . . and then it does.

That’s really about it.  2012, the next in a long line of Armageddon films that have become less and less engaging with each installment, offers audiences every single required element a disaster film has to have: crumbling national monuments, estranged relationships that are salvaged by humanity’s impending doom, lame jokes, a cute dog that narrowly makes it, etc. etc.

So, what’s the best thing about 2012?  Well, I suppose the best thing is that our economy is not as bad as we think it is if people out there are still willing to shell out roughly $260 million on a movie that most people will forget by Thanksgiving.

Ok, ok, ok.  So maybe I’m being a little harsh here, but if I am, it’s not by much.  I try to see something redeeming in every film, and I honestly do my best to stay positive about most of them.  All kinds of things for all kinds of people, you know, and there will be a huge section of folks that will love this movie if all they’re interested in CGI-driven destruction on a massive scale.  Plus, if you’ve ever wondered what it’ll look like when California slides into the Pacific (or rooted for it), you’re in luck.

And honestly, it’s looks pretty friggin’ awesome . . . really, really, really good.

But everything else about 2012 is just plain . . . plain.  It’s uninspired with a cookie cuter script, and is the only Armageddon film I’ve ever seen where I found myself feeling bored as the planet goes down the tubes.

Clearly, this film is based on the notion that the world is going to end when the ancient Mayan calendar stops in 2012 (something the Mayans are even sick of talking about), but it would have been nice if they had actually covered the history behind it.

Outside of featuring a short news clip of a suicide cult that wound up dead at the foot of a Mayan temple and mentioning that, yes, the world is ending when the Mayan calendar stops, there’s really not much discussion of Mayan anything.  2012 doesn’t even spend much time discussing the science behind the solar flares that are heating up the Earths core.  Just a smattering here and there.

It’s all effect, and no cause.

John Cusack, who plays Jackson Curtis, an author who apparently penned one of the most amazing books that no one ever bought, is divorced from his wife Kate (Amanda Peet).  Kate has since remarried and Jackson is struggling (though he’s not trying very hard) to stay relevant in the lives of his two children, Lilly and Noah.

Jackson takes his kids camping in Yellowstone, and that’s where he discovers that something is wrong.  A lake he used to visit all the time is now a bubbling mess, and after the Army lectures him for trespassing, runs into a deranged conspiracy theorist named Charlie Frost (Woody Harrelson), who fills Jackson in on the truth:

The world is going to end.  Not only is the world going to end, but the government has been offing people who want to go public with the secret and that a select few percentage of the planet (who are also very rich) have secured a spot on one of various Arks for when the floods come.

Did I mention that one of Jackson’s kids is named Noah?  Yeah . . .

I’m also not sure what director Roland Emmerich did for this movie outside of call “Action” and “Cut,” as no one ever seems to convey any sense of real urgency even when they’re flying an airplane through Vegas dodging pieces of the Wynn building as it falls down around them or any other number of harrowing situations.

Which is disappointing, especially sine I’m such a huge fan of John Cusack.  But it’s very, very clear that every actor in this one–including Cusack–just showed up for the paycheck.

So what we’re left with is a big budget disappointment, and likely the first disaster film to be a disaster in itself.

–Joey Alfino, Red Editorial Staff