Cafe Society Review (2016)

Woody Allen never met a major city he couldn’t make beautiful and majestic. In his latest feature “Café Society,”—a nostalgic romantic comedy/drama set in the fabulous thirties—we get two for the price of one: New York and L.A.

Lush, sun-drenched shots of affluent L.A. neighborhoods dominate the first half while the sublime New York skyline dominates the second. Beverly Hills mansions with ornate swimming pools, patios and balconies are juxtaposed with exquisite upscale Manhattan penthouses and nightclubs. From a technical standpoint the film is simple yet elegant and neat. Allen seems physically incapable of making a city look less than perfect. Adding to all of this city porn are loving descriptions of said cities—at one point the narrator, Allen himself, says: “a beautiful dusk sky enveloped New York”—upbeat jazz music and a relationship between an older man and a young woman.

We’re in Woody Allen land all right.

Unfortunately, as beautiful as “Café Society” is it can’t help but feel frustratingly surface-level. The cities and the societies within them don’t come alive the way they have in previous Allen films. The two settings feel more like backdrops rather than three-dimensional environments. Additionally, the second half of the movie is a narrative mess, which leaves the viewer with a bitter taste in their mouth.

It’s a shame because the first thirty minutes or so are solid. Naïve neurotic New Yorker Bobby (Jesse Eisenberg, playing a younger version of the kind of nebbish character Allen used to play in his movies) moves to L.A and is taken under the wing of his somewhat brash, headstrong uncle Phil (Steve Carell, amusing with a hint of vulnerability), a Hollywood agent. At swanky cocktail parties Bobby is introduced to the Hollywood elite. However he’s more captivated by the down to earth charm of Vonnie (Kristen Stewart), Phil’s secretary and lover.

Stewart and Eisenberg are the best things about “Café Society.” Stewart continues to show that she’s so far above the “Twilight” franchise, giving a quietly charming and self-assured performance. Vonnie may be soft spoken but she isn’t passive and even though she becomes locked in a love triangle she remains strong and independent minded. Meanwhile, Eisenberg easily slides into the role of fidgety but kindhearted Bobby. It’s the kind of role Eisenberg can play in his sleep.

As a pair they’re effortless, transcendent even. Their flirty, banter-y conversations feel so natural and vivacious. The minute they get together they click and suddenly you want the whole movie to be just them walking around and talking.

But it isn’t.

Aside from the romantic angle, “Café Society” is about the social elite--in Hollywood and later on in Manhattan when Bobby goes back to help run a high-class nightclub-- and how it tries to corrupt these two innocent, genuine kids. Both Bobby and Vonnie are brought into this life and they think it’s what they want. However, in L.A. they feel more at home eating dinner at a shabby “hole-in-the-wall” Mexican restaurant than at a swanky party surrounded by rich folk. In other words, high society may be glamorous but it’s also superficial and unsatisfying. The film’s resolution, while mostly cheerful, has an underlying sense of melancholy and regret. Everything didn’t turn out the way it should have.

This is certainly an intriguing idea but Allen’s touch is often too soft and polite.  Because the film looks so magnificent, because there are so many lavish party sequences and because the tone is generally upbeat and jaunty it feels like Allen is more enamored with this lifestyle then critical of it. At one point Bobby says he wants to go back to New York because he finds L.A. to be “nasty” and “boring” and he can’t take all the “backstabbing” but we don’t see anything in the film that would warrant that kind of negative reaction. We see none of the “nastiness” or “backstabbing.”

If Allen is indeed more enamored with this lifestyle than critical that’s fine but his depiction of it is nevertheless shallow. More often than not it’s like we’re viewing a museum diorama. There’s a lot of name-dropping and listing in a lazy attempt to create atmosphere.  In L.A., famous Hollywood stars like Paul Muni and Ginger Rogers are mentioned in passing and in New York Allen’s narrator lists the various influential people who frequent the nightclub. In short, we don’t feel like we’re there because Allen doesn’t explore these worlds in great enough depth.

Making things worse, the second half is a total mess—unfocused and rushed. A thriller side plot involving Bobby’s gangster brother Ben (Corey Stoll) is poorly established and hastily resolved. Blake Lively shows up as a rival romantic partner for Bobby and is given absolutely nothing to do and Carrell is sadly pushed off to the side. Additionally, Allen manages to cram in a quick crisis of faith and philosophical conversations about love, death and religion into the mix, which further confuse things. It’s sloppy writing, pure and simple.

Woody Allen continues to write and direct one film a year; a work ethic I admire. However it also means that instead of taking some additional time to polish and refine his screenplays he churns and burns. As a result, he’s made a lot of decent but forgettable pictures. “Café Society” is sadly one of those and outside of Eisenberg/Stewart and the pretty cinematography/ production design there’s not much reason to see it.

C- 

Batman v Superman: The Dawn of Justice Review (2016)

Zach Snyder’s “Batman v Superman” is the latest superhero extravaganza, this time courtesy of Warner Bros and DC. It’s a follow up to Snyder’s 2013 Superman reboot “Man of Steel” and Warner’s attempt to jumpstart a DC superhero universe (ala the Marvel Cinematic Universe) that will eventually lead to two “Justice League” movies. Unfortunately, Warner Bros is trying to establish this universe too quickly (the “Justice League” movies, as well as a few other standalone DC hero movies are in varying stages of production) and as a result this latest picture suffers dearly. Simply put: there’s too much going on in “Batman v Superman.” Snyder adheres to the “quantity over quality” philosophy. The picture is a disorganized, unfocused, overstuffed and emotionally stagnant mess that turns into a nonstop barrage of mind numbing action.

It’s a shame because the concept at the center of this mess is somewhat compelling. I know I’m in the minority in saying that I’ve grown tired of all these superhero movies, primarily because most tend to follow the same derivate cookie cutter plot involving a one-note villain and a major city being leveled. So, the idea of two superheroes having a scuffle is far more interesting to me than a superhero having to face yet another super villain hell-bent on world domination/destruction. Yet, because so much is crammed into the movie (including cameos from additional superheroes. In terms of the main narrative, they serve zero purpose. But hey…Aquaman!) the conflict gets lost in all the noise and commotion. I guess it’s not enough to simply have Batman and Superman fight.

As far as plot is concerned…there’s a lot of it (and it adds up to squat). We’ve got Batman in Gotham City and Superman in Metropolis…both in the same universe! Batman, aka Bruce Wayne (Ben Affleck, unshaven and grouchy) is older and more cynical this time around; his senses are dulled, he’s tired of fighting crime that never seems to end and he’s a cold blooded killer. He’s also been directly affected by collateral damage due to Superman’s silly tendency to destroy buildings during his fights with baddies in Metropolis. For what it’s worth, Affleck’s jaded, washed up Batman is by far the best, most refreshing thing about the movie because it’s at least distinct from other onscreen incarnations.

As for the Kryptonian himself, Superman (Henry Cavill) is…there too.  He’s still flying around in his red cape and blue tights, at times resembling a wax figurine and posing as a reporter for the city newspaper by day, doing a lot of intense staring and brooding either way. That’s pretty much it. He’s the same old Superman. Cavill was so charming and funny in last year’s spy comedy “The Man from U.N.C.L.E,” but here, he has about as much personality and charisma as a block of Kryptonite. The conversations about him (by various supporting characters and Batman) are far more interesting: is Superman a god? Is he the savior we need? Or is he a false prophet? All thought provoking questions, except the movie only grazes the surface. We get Holly Hunter as a Metropolis senator giving heavy-handed speeches in front of committees and a media montage where various commentators discuss the “Superman Question.”

What else? Well, Superman’s main squeeze and fellow reporter Lois Lane (the lovely Amy Adams, doing the best she can with thinly written character) runs around in a pants suit doing some investigative journalism and needing rescueing from Superman (seriously, she gets captured like three times). We have the mysterious Lex Luther (Jesse Eisenberg, essentially doing an exaggerated version of his standard fast talking/wise ass persona with a smidge of The Joker thrown in. His performance feels forced most of the time and the character never quite cuts deep enough) that wants to get his hands on some powerful Kryptonian artifacts. There’s also Batman’s faithful confidant Alfred (Jeremy Irons) and…Wonder Woman (Gal Gadot) is also shoved into the narrative, only because she’s got her own movie coming up soon (don’t worry, she was shown front and center in the trailers. No spoilers here). I guess it doesn’t matter that she doesn’t fit in with the central narrative. But one thing’s for certain: she has a neat costume.

OK…I’m exhausted.

“Batman v Superman” is overkill in practically everyway. There are too many characters and too many plotlines, which causes the first twenty-five minutes of the movie to be nothing but tedious exposition. It has to tease plot lines and characters for future movies. There are multiple glowing objects that are recovered and/or change hands throughout, a bizarre dream/simulation sequence that feels like it was left over from a first draft of the screenplay, and powerful beams of energy that shoot out of various facilities (powerful beams of energy have become common place in superhero movies for some reason). The movie even manages to go overboard on symbolism and social commentary. We get some 9/11 imagery, lots of Christ symbolism (it is Superman after all), allusions to bitter and disillusioned war veterans, all handled with the subtlety of Superman’s fist and shoddily inserted into the rest of the proceedings. There’s even an homage to “King Kong” near the end because, why not? In other words, the picture tries to cover so much material that it can’t really explore any of it in any real depth or nuance. It has to keep chugging along to shove in even more stuff.

What’s most frustrating is that, despite the convoluted plot and overabundance of material and characters, it adds up to virtually nothing.  Like most other superhero movies, it all comes down to a dull final clash between heroes and a power hungry super villain (again, apparently, Batman fighting Superman isn’t good enough) in a climax that goes on for what feels like an eternity. There are about four fight scenes crammed in to this single sequence, a surprise bad guy, ticking clocks, two damsels in distress and lots of city damage.  Seriously? Was there any sort of editing, either at the script stage or in postproduction? It’s the cherry on top of this chaos sundae.

Even from a technical standpoint the movie is a dud. The action sequences are horrendous--poorly shot using a mix of shaky hand held cam and disorienting crane/dolly work. The editing is muddled and nonsensical; we constantly lose track of what’s going on. And of course, there’s too much action. The cinematography by Larry Fong is simply atrocious, using dull, murky tones of grey and muddied, phony-looking CGI backgrounds. Meanwhile, Han Zimmer’s thundering orchestral score is overbearing and obnoxious. It’s used much too frequently and occasionally drowns out the dialogue.

The bigger issue here is that “Batman v Superman” wants to be big and epic in every scene, as if the filmmakers were worried they would bore the audience (well, they bored us anyway). Rarely does it settle down and let quiet, more intimate moments between characters play out. The few romantic scenes between Superman and Lois feel cheesy and forced. As is the case with most of Snyder’s movies, “Batman v Superman” is ultimately more committed to style and spectacle rather then character and narrative substance.

The longer “Batman v Superman” went on (and the more stuff it introduced) the more I grew to despise it. I walked out of the theater seething with rage, angry that I had to sit through such a long, hollow, bloated mess that wants so badly to be about everything that it’s not much about anything in the long run. It’s one of the worst superhero movies to come out in a while and I never want to see or think about it again.

D

American Ultra Review (2015)

“American Ultra” is hard R Jason Bourne meets Cheech and Chong. A government conspiracy action comedy (with a romantic angle tossed in) dreamed up by two young stoners hot boxing their basement. “Dude! What if the C.I.A. made us into genetically altered government agents and then decided to kill us?” An intriguing idea that falters in execution— the movie falls victim to a dull, uninspired plot, repetitive action and an uneven tone.

Jesse Eisenberg plays Mike Howell, a stoner who’s been living happily with his cool stoner girlfriend Phoebe Larson (Kristen Stewart) for the past five years. Working his mundane job at a convenience store he writes and draws the adventures of Apollo Ape and plans on proposing to Phoebe. That is until everything gets crazy. Unbeknownst to him Mike is actually a C.I.A. agent and one night he’s “reactivated” by agent Victoria Lasseter (Connie Britton) when she receives word that Mike is going to be killed. Fellow C.I.A. agent Adrian Yates (Topher Grace) launches a full on offensive—practically taking over the small West Virginia town Mike and Phoebe live in. Things get off to a solid start. Director Nima Nourizadeh throws us into this chaos without much explanation (mirroring Mike’s own confusion) but we go along with it because we hope to find out why Mike is now Public Enemy Number One.

Soon enough however, the intrigue runs out and “American Ultra” becomes a drag. The screenplay by Max Landis runs out of ideas and surprises, turning into just another “On-the-run-from-government-agents” picture with hit and miss comedy sprinkled throughout. Yates is a one-dimensional bad guy. The action is repetitive and the scenes themselves lack creativity— they’re poorly shot in dim, disorienting shaky cam. I almost got seasick from watching them. The movie certainly doesn’t shy away from gore (it earns its R rating) but it gets to a point where you ask: who cares? The violence isn’t used inventively anyway and the story around it becomes so dull.

The origin of Mike’s abilities is vaguely established; by the end we still don’t know much about the government program he was a part of and more importantly we don’t know why Mike is such a liability. It doesn’t seem practical to waste the time and resources to kill this guy when things seemed fine to begin with. He lives a very simple unexciting life. He didn’t know he was an agent until Victoria reactivated him with a very specific verbal code that no one would know and he doesn’t become dangerous until he’s initially provoked. Mike doesn’t become a liability until the C.I.A. makes him into one. And the decision to kill him appears to come out of thin air; why is this lowly stoner all of a sudden the C.I.A.’s most wanted? Don’t they have better things to do? We’re never given an answer and frankly we stop caring after a while.

I could be looking into it too much. After all, isn’t “American Ultra” a comedy? Well yes but on some level it also wants to be taken seriously. As far as I can tell the movie isn’t trying to be a satire or parody-- it isn’t trying to comment on the government conspiracy action genre or the stoner comedy. Instead (with the shaky cam cinematography) the film feels planted in reality; it wants you to believe that Mike and Phoebe are a real stoner couple who get wrapped up with the C.I.A. The picture’s violence isn’t Quentin Tarantino “cherry-red-blood-spattered-all-over-the-wall” cartoon violence but brutal and realistic. At the same time “American Ultra” also wants to be zany, which creates tonal confusion. A scene depicting the town’s entire police force being massacred doesn’t exactly gel with John Leguizamo as an over-the-top drug dealer, or the scene in which Mike (hiding behind a kitchen cabinet) throws a frying pan up in the air and shoots a bullet that ricochets off said pan, killing a government crony. The film wants to be gritty and intense like the Bourne films but also goofy and outlandish like a stoner comedy, a combination that doesn’t entirely work. Nourizadeh should have taken a much more cartoonish approach.

On the bright side, Eisenberg and Stewart keep “American Ultra” watchable. Eisenberg’s typical fast-talking, nervous on screen persona is perfectly suited for paranoid mixed-up Mike, though Stewart does the best work. Ever since “Twilight,” Stewart has proven to be a very talented actress capable of playing a wide range of roles. Here she gives a lively, playful performance where she isn’t the helpless sidekick or the damsel in distress but gets to actively participate in the action. She’s as much an action hero as Mike is. Together they make for a likable couple and their relationship becomes the only remotely interesting aspect of the movie.

But even Eisenberg and Stewart aren’t strong enough to save “American Ultra.” The ending is ham-fisted and anticlimactic-- suggesting that all the trouble the C.I.A. went through trying to obtain and kill Mike was for nothing. Overall, the movie wastes a talented cast with an unimaginative story and a barrage of dull action sequences.

C- 

The End of the Tour Review (2015)

James Ponsoldt’s “The End of the Tour” is about author David Foster Wallace, a truly brilliant writer hindered by his inability to climb out of his mind, to snap himself out of the intense thought and contemplation needed to write. The film provides a glimpse into the life of this lonely tormented artist and does so in a stripped down, non-manipulative way. Based on the nonfiction book “Although of Course You End of Becoming Yourself” by David Lipsky, “The End of the Tour” follows Lipsky (Jesse Eisenberg) as he interviews Wallace (Jason Segel) during the final leg of the tour for his novel “Infinite Jest” over a five-day period. Retaining the structure of Lipsky’s book, the picture is an extended conversation between the two writers as they discuss the process of writing, literature, film, fame, depression and so on. Everything unfolds in an organic and easygoing manner, there’s not much in the way of plot or “conflict” (in the traditional sense).

Segel—who has been only a comedic actor up until now-- has always struck me as a genuine, down to earth guy. He has such a likable and comforting on-screen presence, even when playing slackers and losers. Through his plain “Gentle Giant” persona he’s able to transcend the broad comedic boundaries he usually finds himself in. In “The End of the Tour” he slips comfortably into the character of Wallace, playing the late literary icon with his normal likability as well as an underlying melancholy. Wallace is laidback and soft-spoken, intelligent without being snotty and self-righteous. He has a humble, everyman quality to him and, like Segel, a comforting presence. He’s not the usual eccentric and self-absorbed successful artist.

On the other hand, this relaxed attitude masks a painful self-awareness. In interviews the real Wallace can be so amiable and insightful while at the same time noticeably self-conscious and vulnerable. He has great things to say but he often hesitates and second-guesses himself. It’s not that he’s simply insecure but that he recognizes the danger in thinking too highly of himself and his views. During his first bout of success in his early twenties he let that success go to his head-- leading to alcohol and heroine use and being diagnosed with depression. In “The End of the Tour” we’re presented with someone who, deep down, is aware of his immense talent but is also weary of what success can do and cautious of being too outwardly confident.

So when Wallace says, “I treasure my regular guy-ness” he’s not saying it to be pretentious but to keep himself from running into the same problems he encountered in his twenties. Unfortunately, he’s so concerned with not letting fame or his ego get the better of him that he’s constantly stuck in his head, questioning and overthinking, not letting himself live in the moment. That’s why some of the best sequences in “The End of the Tour” are when Wallace loosens up. While watching the movie “Broken Arrow” in a Minneapolis movie theater we see a shot of him, wide eyed, with the biggest smile on his face. It’s one of the funniest, most touching moments in the entire movie because Wallace is clearly enjoying life. He’s genuinely caught up in the moment-- indulging in a piece of dumb, fun escapism, instead of being trapped in his head.

If you’ve seen any Eisenberg performance you’ve seen his David Lipsky—motor-mouthed, nervous, sporadically charming and a little condescending. But he acts as a nice sounding board for Segel and helps keep the film moving. Plus, (as the movie reveals) Lipsky has his own insecurities, primarily due to the fact that he’s not as successful as he wants to be. Throughout the five-day interview you can sometimes detect jealousy in his line of questioning. Part of him views Wallace’s “regular guy-ness” with hostility and contempt; he doesn’t understand why Wallace isn’t more excited about his fame because he doesn’t have it himself.

As a director, Ponsoldt shows incredible restraint-- employing a minimal, nonintrusive style that keeps the focus of the movie firmly planted on Lipsky and Wallace. Even though “The End of the Tour” is driven by the acting it takes a skilled director to maintain an intimate and natural atmosphere (free of melodrama) for those actors to operate in. It also takes a skilled writer to comb through Lipsky’s three hundred plus page book and dig out the most essential parts of the interview. Ponsoldt’s script captures the loose conversational likeness of the book (never inserting any forced tension or contrived plot points) without feeling too overstuffed and aimless.

 But it all comes back to Segel and his rich, multilayered performance as a brilliant, damaged and all around complex character. This is without a doubt his meatiest, role to date and “The End of the Tour” proves he has what it takes to carry a more dramatic picture.

A-