Review: "THE FIGHTER"

One of my favorite things about film criticism are the blurbs that you always see in the television commercials or print ads, where the marketing folks extract a glowing sentence praising the film in question. Of course, many of them are altered to better fit the advertisement, but I always get a kick out of the deliciously punny one-liners, especially from the hammy likes of Gene Shalit or the late Joel Siegel. If your attention isn't diverted to an article whose headline is something like "Ishtar Ishtarrible", then you have no soul.

But if there's any kind of film that's a gold mine for potential shameless review hooks, it's the sports genre-- more specifically, the boxing movie. Tell me you haven't seen a review of a pugilist picture without the words "knockout", "champion", or "contender" in the headline, and I'll call you a boldfaced liar. But for The Fighter, any of those three words would most definitely be an apt description of the latest film by director David O. Russell, a powerful and well-executed drama bolstered by a magnificent cast.

It's 1993, and Micky Ward (Mark Wahlberg) is an up-and-coming boxer in the town of Lowell, Massachusetts. Despite his drive and determination, however, Micky's track record in the ring is less than stellar, made only worse by the fact that he's still lingering in the shadow of his older half-brother Dicky Eklund (Christian Bale), who fifteen years earlier went the distance against Sugar Ray Leonard, becoming a local legend.

Even though Micky has a strong support system from his family and friends, including a manager in his mother Alice (Melissa Leo) and a trainer in Dicky, Micky's career isn't exactly going anywhere. His mom's rather controlling in her managerial style, and Dicky, way past his prime, is now an unreliable crack addict who's had multiple run-ins with the law.

After a particularly crushing loss, Micky begins to consider throwing in the towel and giving up his career. He's convinced otherwise by his new girlfriend Charlene (Amy Adams), a bartender who thinks Micky's lack of success is due to his family's overbearing influence. Micky must eventually choose between making real improvements in his career, or staying with his family.

Much like my attitude towards romantic comedies, I've recently become tired and disenfranchised with "heartwarming"/"inspirational" sports dramas, especially those based on true stories (even though considerable artistic license is taken in almost every film of the sort). They all usually follow a predictable, done-to-death formula that often times crosses the line into treacly Hallmark Channel sap. Having seen the somewhat lackluster trailer for The Fighter (which is also based on a real tale), I was expecting just more of the same.

Boy, was I wrong. What we have here is not so much a "boxing movie", but more of an intense study of familial relationships, loyalty, and high expectations in a vastly competitive world. The in-ring action serves more as window dressing (though still rather gripping).

I've never been a big fan of Russell's, but I decided to give this chance, mainly because of the all-star ensemble. And it's the best thing about the flick, with every cast member delivering brilliant performances. Mark Wahlberg (whom I still refer to and will always refer to as "Marky Mark"-- but in a loving fashion rather than a pejorative one) does a perfect job in a rare reserved role, all the more ironic considered the brutality his character engages in. His Micky is vulnerable, submissive to his family's wishes, and quietly resentful about still being in his famous brother's shadow.

Compounding those problems is his mother Alice, portrayed by a fantastic Melissa Leo (Frozen River), whose forceful and somewhat power-hungry demeanor belies a deep pain regarding her sons' situations, and a massive insecurity revealed when her control over Micky is challenged by his new flame Charlene, played by an equally terrific Amy Adams.

But the true knockout performance here (see? I myself fall victims to those oh-so-addictive puns) is from Christian Bale. Easily one of the best and most dedicated actors working today, I'm still flabbergasted that Bale has never been nominated for an Oscar. The man has had a highly versatile body of work, some of them great (Empire of the Sun, Rescue Dawn, 3:10 to Yuma), some of them shocking and unforgettable (American Psycho, The Machinist), and some of them unfortunate (Newsies). But the Academy will have no choice but to recognize Bale this time around.

Bale completely disappears into the role of Dick Eklund, both emotionally and physically. There's almost a musical quality to how Bale twitches, speaks, and even blinks, where we witness a man who's prisoner to his addictions and remains stuck in the past, constantly reminding others of how he went toe-to-toe with Sugar Ray, but in reality is just a tweaked-out shell of the man he used to be. It's a remarkable transformation for Bale, especially the weight he lost to play the role (though it's not the emaciated levels he reached with The Machinist).

In fact, the film's most telling and emotionally devastating scene centers around the unveiling of an HBO documentary that Dicky believed was about his supposed impending boxing comeback, but was really about the life of drug addicts. The reactions of the main characters watching the less-than-flattering special, especially that of Dicky and Alice, are absolutely heartbreaking. It's a powerful examination of how some tight-knit family units appear strong on the outside, but are extremely fragile and doomed to shatter on the inside.

However, the biggest fault of The Fighter is its predictability, a speed bump almost guaranteed for this kind of movie. We've seen this formula before countless times, but luckily, Russell manages to add a lot more realism and genuine characterization here than most other sports films. Aside from a somewhat underwhelming first third, The Fighter ultimately delivers, and then some, with an amazing cast, top-notch directing and screenwriting, and terrific boxing scenes. Though it's not the greatest boxing film ever (those honors still go to both Rocky and Raging Bull), The Fighter is-- yes, I'll say it despite my better instincts-- a true cinematic champion.

Letter Grade: "A-"

Review: "TRUE GRIT"

In the 1970's, there was an old car commercial explaining that there was nothing more American than "baseball, hot dogs, apple pie, and Chevrolet". An interesting conceit, rather memorable since the first three have always been synonymous with the good ol' U.S. of A. Of course, if you wanna split hairs, those three also actually originated in Europe before making it stateside. In fact, considering the melting pot nature of America, it's difficult to pin down what cultural and technological innovations are TRULY American in origin and isn't Made in China.

The same goes for motion pictures. Though much of the technology was perfected here in the States, it can be argued that cinema was officially "born" in late 19th-century France (or even centuries earlier in Greece if you count the non-recording camera obscura, but we'll leave that discussion to nerds with too much time on their hands). But if there's anything about cinema that we could truly lay claim as being as American as apple pie, er, Chevrolet, it would undoubtedly be the Western genre.

Hugely popular in the first half of the 20th century, westerns were iconic for their almost mythical storytelling (usually of a mysterious wanderer becoming the savior of a small town), morality tales, and the instantly recognizable images of gun battles, grand cinematography set against the harsh Southwestern American landscape, and the depiction of survival before the Industrial Revolution. But like any genre, Westerns gradually evolved, going from the clean-cut and sanitized John Ford movies to more gritty, revisionist, and brutal depictions of the the Old West that were clearly more accurate of that era. 

Soon enough, it seemed as though Westerns had died out, with Clint Eastwood's great Unforgiven apparently being the last of the herd. But thankfully, the cult favorite and Oscar-winning Coen Brothers (Raising Arizona, Fargo, No Country for Old Men) decided to breathe new life into the sagging genre with True Grit, a remake of the 1969 John Wayne classic that proves that when done with the right people behind and in front of the camera, a remake can not only be forgivable, but also a terrific piece of moviemaking on its own.

It's the late 1870s, and 14-year-old Mattie Ross (Hailee Steinfeld) has just identified the corpse of her slain father, who was recently robbed and murdered by infamous hired gun Tom Chaney (Josh Brolin). Though young, Mattie is mature for her years, and is highly determined to find her father's killer and have him brought to justice. As such, she tries to hire grizzled yet tough federal marshall Ruben "Rooster" Cogburn (Jeff Bridges) to track Chaney down, especially now that the criminal's escaped to unchartered Indian territory.

Mattie eventually convinces Cogburn to take the job, on her condition that she rides along with him. Waking up the next morning, she discovers that he's already headed off without her, but rather with Texas ranger La Boeuf (Matt Damon), who's been tracking down Chaney for months for the murder of a Texas senator. Mattie nonetheless catches up with them, dead set on finding her target. The three then trek through the hostile land, in hopes of finding both the elusive Chaney as well as "Lucky" Ned Pepper (Barry Pepper), an outlaw whom he's in cahoots with.

Best known for making quirky, weird, and definitely less-than-mainstream works, the Brothers Coen seemed to have decided to step out of their eccentric comfort zone to make their most mainstream film yet. Having previously toyed with the Western (albeit in a contemporary fashion) with their Oscar-winning No Country for Old Men, Joel and Ethan have clearly perfected their association with the Old West here. Even though Hollywood's been pumping remakes out the wazoo as of late, it would be considered especially egregious to lay hands on a John Wayne classic (especially one that garnered The Duke his only Academy Award win).

But even though it's been awhile since I've seen the 1969 film, there can be plenty of distinction between the two (and from what I've heard, the 2010 model is apparently more true to the 1968 Charles Portis novel than the original). The Wayne version was clearly tailored to fit Wayne's persona and somewhat limited acting style, therefore placing that film's main focus on the Cogburn character rather than on Mattie (as was in the novel).

Luckily, the Coens put Mattie back to the forefront, and they clearly couldn't find a better actor to fill her shoes than newcomer Hailee Steinfeld. Though being in her early teens and making her debut film performance, Steinfeld does a fantastic job portraying a plucky and determined teen wise beyond her years, yet way in over her head in regards to tracking down the man who murdered her dear ol' daddy. Steinfeld infuses in Mattie a maturity and strength that defies her youth, making for a terrific young heroine role we see too little of in movies nowadays (but clearly making a comeback this year, what with Chloe Moretz and Jennifer Lawrence making waves in Kick-Ass and Winter's Bone, respectively).

But of course, you need a merciless-yet-soft-on-the-inside tough guy to watch her back, and taking over The Duke's reins as Rooster Cogburn is the now-legendary Jeff Bridges. While Wayne's portrayal of Cogburn was essentially Wayne playing himself, Bridges took it even further, making Rooster the tough, liquor-pickled son-of-a-bitch of ALL tough, liquor-pickled sons of bitches. Bridges disappears into Rooster's skin, mannerisms, and especially voice, becoming what we would expect a 19th-century marshall to truly be and act like. It's a flawless performance of a truly flawed man that's all but guaranteed award nominations and even wins, and deservedly so.

Rounding out the cast is a funny Matt Damon (who's clearly and gamely content with handing the spotlight over to his aforementioned costars) as the Texas Ranger also after Chaney, played by Brolin, who isn't in the film as much as the ads and trailers imply.

Technical efforts are brilliant across the board. The cinematography by longtime Coen collaborator Roger Deakins is jaw-droppingly beautiful, capturing the harsh and haggard environs of the West, especially when our heroes enter the deadly no-man's-land of Choctaw territory. Carter Burwell's hymnal-heavy score is evocative of the Westerns of yesteryear, what with the usage of harmonicas and the "clickety-clack" percussion. Of course, the biggest achievement behind the camera is the Coens' razor-sharp screenplay, delivering intelligent but true-to-the-era dialogue and exposition. But most importantly, this True Grit shouldn't be considered a flat-out remake, but more of a genuine love letter to the beauty and grandeur of classic Western cinema.

Those who read my reviews know that even when I commentate on films I highly enjoy, I can still find things about them that I didn't like or think could have been improved upon. Not so here. Every cog, nook, and cranny of True Grit is absolutely perfect. It's also a reminder to Hollywood that when done right, with the right actors, directors, screenwriters, etc., Westerns can be considered not derivative and cliche relics of movies' past, but a true staple of both cinema and Americana. Action-packed, funny, poignant, and staggeringly superb in every which way, True Grit may very well resurrect the genre and everything great about it.

Now fill your hands, you son of a bitch.

Letter Grade: "A+"

Review: "TRON: LEGACY"

Even at my young age, it's amazing to reflect on how technology has not only evolved at an astounding rate, but has also integrated itself into not only our culture, but also as a significant means of survival and living day to day. From advances in the automotive, medical, and entertainment industries to the advent of the Internet and WiFi and iPhones and Facebook, technology is everywhere. Besides, when someone as stately and traditional as Queen Elizabeth II begins her own Twitter account, you know that tech isn't a mere novelty anymore.

In fact, I remember when I was first introduced to the Internet when I was 7 or 8 years old (you know, back when there was only one clunky computer in the house and how "Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego" was the "World of Warcraft" of the era), back when it was mostly about message boards and right before it became the fully-formed information superhighway it is today. The same could be said about video games. Before we were wowed with Playstation 3s and Wiis and Xboxes, we were enthralled with the likes of Super Nintendos, Commodore 64s, and of course, the granddaddy of the 1980s video game revolution, the Atari.

Though obviously dated and primitive-looking to the cynics of our generation, Atari was not only amongst a massive wave of technological breakthroughs in all known fields during the early '80s (Apple PCs, anyone?), but served as an inspiration to a separate but similarly groundbreaking sensation in the form of a 1982 movie called Tron.

Though not that commercially successful, the neon-heavy, dark, and somewhat surreal film about a computer programmer being transported into the very virtual world he created gained not only a cult following, but also served as a jumping board for future motion pictures in terms of special effects and sound design. It was also the first major motion picture to utilize computer-generated animation (an innovation that disallowed Tron from getting a Best Visual Effects Oscar nomination, since, according to the Academy at the time, it was "cheating").

So it's somewhat surprising that Disney took so long to produce a sequel, especially considering the leaps and bounds made in CGI and filmmaking in general (The Matrix, amongst others, clearly owes a heavy debt to Tron in terms of both technical wizardry and storyline). But with the bar that was set so high by last year's Avatar, it seemed that it was about time for Tron: Legacy to step up to the plate. And though its screenplay and motivations have much to be desired (much like the original), the out-of-this-world visual and auditory effects blow it out of the park, and then some (ditto).

Back in the mid-80's, Kevin Flynn (Jeff Bridges) was the CEO of software giant ENCOM, who was on his way to making enormous strides in technological innovations. Then, in 1989, Flynn mysteriously disappeared, leaving behind his young son Sam as an orphan. Today, as a rebellious and somewhat bitter 27-year-old (Garrett Hedlund), Sam is the majority shareholder of the company, but would rather commit acts of mischievous sabotage on the company's board of directors than step up as the big man in charge.

One night, Sam is confronted by Alan Bradley (Bruce Boxleitner), Kevin's old friend and former business partner, with news that he's received a page from Flynn's abandoned arcade (despite the number having been disconnected years earlier). Deciding to investigate, Sam discovers a hidden room underneath the building, and inadvertently activates a laser that digitally transports Sam into a strange, new world.

It turns out that this world is the Grid-- a physical manifestation of the computer world originally called "Tron" by Flynn, where computer programs and files are represented as human-like beings, and programs progress and send information via "vehicles", not to mention gladiatorial-like "games" taking place between armed programs. Captured by soldier-like programs and mistaken for a program himself, Sam is sent into said games, managing to survive. This perseverance, coupled with the realization that Sam is not a program but rather a "user", leads Sam into a confrontation with the program that serves as the Grid's leader: Clu (Jeff Bridges), a program physically resembling (and created by) the younger Kevin.

Before Sam can be killed by Clu's shock troops, the boy is saved by Quorra (Olivia Wilde), who takes Sam out of the Grid and out of Clu's jurisdiction. It's there that Sam is finally reunited with his father. Kevin (regarded as a deity of sorts by the programs not under Clu's control) reveals that years earlier, he designed Clu to help create a perfect virtual world, a purpose that Clu took too far and causing Kevin to exile himself. Clu became a genocidal despot, who aspires to retrieve Kevin's identity disc that could allow Clu and his army to escape the Grid and enter the real world.

Racing against time to return home, Sam decides to fight back against Clu and his crew of minions-- including Jarvis (James Fran), flamboyant nightclub owner Castor (Michael Sheen), deadly lieutenant Rinzler (Anis Cheurfa), and "siren" program Jem (Beau Garrett)-- in order to reach the needed portal and bring his long-lost father home.

Though incredibly excited to see Tron: Legacy months before its release, I made sure to keep my expectations relatively low. Though I was impressed with the original film from a SFX viewpoint (and keep in mind, I watched it with a 1982 point of view rather than a cynical 2010 point of view), the story and somewhat confusing execution wasn't as cutting-edge as the Lite-Brite visual mastery on display. As such, I maintained the same expectations for Part Two.

Though director Joe Kosinski made Legacy far more cohesive and easier to follow than Steve Lisberger's original, the rather shallow attempt at infusing a philosophical commentary on the desire to be perfect and the increasingly organic nature of technology in regards to supplanting natural science and religion didn't exactly hit the mark as intended. The same could be said what with the obvious allusions to religious mythology, especially Christianity (Sam serving as the salvation to the world that his Father created), Old Testament Judaism (Clu as the jealous and resentful devil who turns on his creator), and even Zen Buddhism (Kevin clearly being the Grid's own Dalai Lama of sorts).

But in the grand scheme of things, story clearly isn't what Tron: Legacy wants to have as its claim to fame: The real stars are the mindblowing special effects, sound design, and musical score. Miles ahead of the now-goofy-looking pixels and outfits of the first film, what we have here is a breathtaking 21st century reimagining of the Grid, a dark and neon-infused Oz where programs race to the death on sleek "light cycles" and duke it out with powered discs and lightsaber-like truncheons. Simply put, Tron: Legacy is the most gorgeous-looking movie I've seen all year.

The same amount of praise can go to the riveting score by cult electronica duo Daft Punk. Paying much homage to the synthesizer-heavy music of the 80's, their score is an absolute treat to the ears, and dare I say deserves some awards recognition in the coming months.

The cast itself is okay in their portrayals but not exactly stellar. Hedlund does well as the rebellious heir to the Flynn legacy, but is mostly two-dimensional in his performance. Bridges, effortlessly cool as always, does double duty as the modern-day Flynn, and the traitorous Clu (a performance achieved via digitial de-aging, which is fairly impressive save for the rare few moments when Clu's face becomes noticeably rubbery and unrealistic). Wilde, meanwhile, does a great job as the program loyal to Flynn, infusing in Quorra a human-like innocence when her character isn't kicking some serious ass. And Michael Sheen steals every scene he occupies as a flamboyant, Ziggy Stardust-like club owner.

Despite possessing but failing to realize its enormous potential to create a moving and thought-provoking dramatic juxaposition to all the jaw-dropping technical laurels (much like Inception and the first Matrix did), Tron: Legacy nonetheless seals the deal by providing some of the most gripping visual effects, white-knuckle action sequences, and overall aesthetic beauty I've seen in a film in some time. A treat to fans of the original (like yours truly) and to newcomers fresh to the franchise, Tron: Legacy is a welcome way to end the year in a visually explosive fashion.

Letter Grade: "B-"

Review: "DUE DATE"

I've never been a fan of road trips. Having grown up in Minnesota when the rest of my extended family lived in (and still lives in) Illinois, once or twice a year my parents, sisters and I would take an eight-hour trek southeast to visit grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and whatever other numerous relatives we had. Though I was always certainly excited to see them, I always dreaded the drive itself. Most who know me agree that I'm naturally impatient, and despite having the convenience of Game Boys and comic books back then, the ride still seemed to go on forever.

But it was always fortunate that, for a third of a day, I was in a car with people who didn't (completely) annoy me. And to this day, I wonder if I could truly ever survive a road trip for a long amount of time with someone who bothered the holy bejeezus out of me, without the risk of me throttling them halfway through the journey.

It's that familiar concept that drives director Todd Phillips' raucous comedy Due Date, a buddy road flick that fails to completely match the comedic anarchy of Phillips' previous The Hangover, but still manages to stay afloat thanks to the terrific chemistry between its two lead actors.

Architect and expectant father Peter Highman (Robert Downey, Jr.) arrives at an Atlanta airport to fly home to Los Angeles and be with his pregnant wife Sarah (Michelle Monaghan), who's set to give birth via a C-section a few days later. Sitting behind him on the plane is Ethan Tremblay (Zach Galifianakis), an unkempt and bizarre aspiring actor who immediately gets on the high-strung Peter's nerves. An onboard misunderstanding caused by Ethan gets both men kicked off the plane and placed on the TSA's no-fly list.

Making matters worse is that Peter's wallet (including his credit cards and identification) was left on the plane, leaving him stranded in Georgia and far away from his wife. An exasperated Peter is forced to hitch a cross-country ride with Ethan to California, and along the way they encounter Ethan's drug dealer Heidi (Juliette Lewis), a short-tempered and wheelchair-bound war veteran (Danny McBride), the Mexican border patrol, and, in Texas, Peter's friend Darryl (Jamie Foxx), a famous athlete who arouses suspicion that he may or may not be the real father of Sarah's child. It takes all the strength Peter has to tolerate Ethan's goofball antics as the two race against time to make it to the birth of Peter's baby.

Hot off the astronomical success of The Hangover, director Phillips went back into the wild comedy well that served him well in the past (he also directed Road Trip and Old School), but despite his considerable talent as a filmmaker, the biggest flaw of Due Date is that it doesn't add much novelty to the whole comedy road trip concept, where the protagonists encounter various oddballs on the road and eventually clash with each other. The genre having been considerably mined by films like Dumb & Dumber, Cannonball Run, National Lampoon's Vacation, and of course the great Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, the proceedings here aren't that terribly original.

But like the aforementioned Steve Martin/John Candy classic, the true star and saving grace here is the pairing of the lead Odd Couple, this time personified by Robert Downey, Jr. and Zach Galifianakis. Downey, still on fire since his 2008 comeback to Hollywood's good graces with Iron Man, is fabulous as the ill-tempered, uptight, and somewhat volatile father-to-be who encounters one massive inconvenience after another. Downey blends in perfectly, once again proving that he's one of the finest and most versatile actors of his generation.

Playing his comic foil is a wonderful Galifianakis essentially replaying the role that (deservedly) garnered him mainstream attention in Phillips' previous The Hangover. As a sweet-natured yet utterly bizarre and childlike buffoon who dreams of making it big in Hollywood, Galifianakis manages to avoid being one-note by endearing himself to both the audience and (eventually) Downey's character. The two characters' personalities clash like oil and water, delivering some rather funny comedic setpieces, and there's even more emotional heft involved in Due Date than Hangover, especially in a surprisingly touching scene atop the Grand Canyon involving Ethan and his father's ashes.

Because this is Downey and Galifianakis' show, the rest of the relatively small cast doesn't have much to do. Monaghan's wife character is barely there (proving once again that Phillips doesn't know how to really flesh out his female characters), and Downey's The Soloist co-star Jamie Foxx abruptly appears halfway through the film, and then isn't seen again five minutes afterwards, which is all the more disappointing considering that the whole "who's the baby's father" subplot had more potential than it actually utilized. Lewis' cameo as a skanky pot dealer is slightly amusing but is ultimately forgettable (though an encounter between her character's son and Downey is shockingly hilarious).

Though just as potty-mouthed and destructive, Due Date doesn't match the amount of rapid-fire belly laughs that The Hangover so effortlessly delivered. There are laughs to be had, but the film ultimately falters because it can't do anything new with the conventions of that great cinematic genre, the road film. But thanks to the entertaining performances of its leads, Due Date can be a great distraction for backseat prisoners during one of those dreadful hauls on the highway.

Letter Grade: "C+"