The Bourne Ultimatum

I'm well aware that the following comment will solidify my reputation for being un-hip and sometimes out of touch with popular culture. That's my reputation, especially with my pre-teen daughter's herd of friends, and I accept it. It's my cross to bear.

But, I don't like the Bourne movies. For the same reason I've never seen a Jet Li flick, or watched more than 10 minutes of a Bruce Lee movie. (Although I did dig The Green Hornet.)



The Bourne Ultimatum is, for me, like watching one of those kung-fu flicks from the 70s--the story is pushed along by movement and violence instead of an oral narrative.



Fast-paced scenes filled with martial arts can have a significant place in a movie, but for me, at least, it shouldn't be the crux of the movie.

But what do I know...I'm a geek.

I know there are serious fans of the Bourne trilogy. Write me why, in the comments section here or in an email. I'd like to put together a post sometime later on all the reasons the series is so popular.

Maybe I'll learn something.

American Gangster

Some professionals make money the old fashioned way. Frank Lucas did it the Wal*Mart way.

Cutting out the middle man, Lucas (played by Denzel Washington) recognized that bringing pure heroin into the U.S. straight from an Asian source and dealing the "blue magic" himself would add up to millions. And he was right; in less than five years Lucas became a wealthy man, responsible for, by some estimates, 70% of the heroin in New York.

Ritchie Roberts, (played by Russell Crowe) the dogged police detective-turned-prosecutor eventually sets his sites on Lucas, and brings him to justice. The investigation is lengthy and dangerous, and uncovers deep rooted problems within police departments in New York and New Jersey.

Washington and Crow are remarkable in their roles. They share only two scenes together, but the 10 minutes or so they are on camera together is well worth the wait. The story is well told, with attention paid to the development of each role. With Gangster, the motivation of each character is integral, and the audience is given clear and detailed insight into what makes the central figures tick.

American Gangster isn't always easy to watch. The violence isn't gratuitous, but it's real. Most interesting, though, is that the fictional story may not be as interesting as the real-life relationship between the big-time drug dealer and the cop who brought him down.

Real life sometimes is stranger than fiction.

Live Free Or Die Hard

I slid the disc in expecting cliche. The title, after all, reminded me a little too much of those "Love it or leave it," or "They'll pry my gun out of my..." platitudes that make me zone out. I knew the Die Hard sequel was centered around the 4th of July, so I expected lots of red, white and blue.

I was wrong.

Live Free Or Die Hard rocks! Centered around a seemingly all-too-possible cyber terrorism plot, John McClane still kicks ass with attitude. And his sidekick in this version, played by Justin Long, keeps pace and holds his own.

Sure, there was still some cliche and some of the action was unbelievable. But in the end, I was yelling "yipipie-ki-yah, motherfucker!" along with Bruce Willis.

On the inside, at least.

The Dark Knight Trailer

I was really stoked to see this trailer for The Dark Knight before catching I Am Legend. It's set to roll out July 18, 2008.

I can't wait...

I Am Legend

Back in the day, cozy-ing up to the box office window and requesting two adult tickets for "I Am Leland, please" would have caused Mrs. Film Geek to snort. No more, it seems. Not even a side-glance my way.

I gotta get some new stuff.


But, there are few things better than sneaking away for a matinee with my wife on a Friday afternoon.

Especially if the matinee flick stars Will Smith.



Adapted from the novel by Richard Matheson, I Am Legend stars Smith as Army officer and scientist Robert Neville. Neville has the task of leading an effort to stop a strain of virus that is infecting humans, mutating them into zombie-like creatures that survive on instinct alone. Isolated and lonely, Neville finds comfort in routine and his intense focus on finding a cure for the disease, even while it's obvious to the audience that his expectation isn't very realistic.

I Am Legend is the third film version of Matheson's novel. The Last Man On Earth (1964) starred Vincent Price, who fought humans-turned-vampires by an infectious disease. The Omega Man (1971) had Charlton Heston in the lead. His Robert Neville hunted down members of The Family, humans mutated by biological warfare and bent on ending scientific progress, which they consider humanity's downfall. The current Legend seems to successfully combine important elements of each into it's plot, while modernizing the theme as a fairly realistic cautionary tale regarding the clash of science and humanity.

I was mesmerized by the film in it's first hour, which is a real testament to the personality and acting ability of Will Smith. Almost completely alone on the screen during that time, Smith carries the movie with his presence. I got to know his Neville intimately during that time, and develop a real investment in his survival. The second half of the movie was a bit more disappointing: the film moved too quickly, and glossed over what I thought were important aspects of the story.

In the end, though, the central theme of the effect of science on humanity is clear. Humanity's saving grace comes from within each of us; determination and sacrifice trump microscopes and test tubes.

(For now.)

Superbad

Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg's hilarious 118 minute documentary depicting why my daughters will never leave the house.

Ah, Now I Remember

One of the Mountain State blogs I really enjoy reading is The Charlestonian, written by a remarkably observant person identified only as Charles. In fact, I like this blog so much that my only complaint about The Charlestonian is that Charles writes too infrequently. His comments always make me think, even if I don't always agree with his point of view.

I've been thinking a lot these last few days about a post Charles wrote before Christmas, titled: Xmas Wishes. In the post, Charles points out the hypocrisy that is the Christmas season: a period of time in which we preach goodwill and giving while being controlled and manipulated by greed and expectation. The comments rang true with me when I first read them, and I was reminded of them often as I waded through the herd of last minute shoppers, bought gifts simply because I believed it was expected of me and felt the distress and worry that comes too easily for a season Charles scoffs at for being called "The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year."

By late Christmas Eve, I'd had enough. After the wrapping was over, I went to bed frustrated, anxious and slightly drunk. (Well, a couple beers did seem to help.)

Early morning came, and I was awakened by cheers from my youngest kids. I watched my daughter Griffyn by-pass the gifts in order to check the milk and cookies she left out for Santa the night before. She was thrilled to find the glass nearly empty, and only crumbs left on the cookie plate. I watched my son Jaden be as excited about the gifts others got as he was about those labeled with his name. I marveled at my daughter Maddisen's appreciation for Christmas, considering this was her first since she figured out that Mommy and Daddy have more to do with the day than does Santa and Rudolph. And I was in awe of my wife who--like all terrific mothers--worked the day harder than anyone else to make it magical and enjoyable for her kids.

That's when I remembered what I find so special about Christmas.

When it works right, Christmas morning can be filled with innocence and goodwill. Young children with wide-eyed enthusiasm for the season, and older kids who still appreciate the efforts of others even after some of that magic has rubbed off. Mothers (and I'm sure dads, but in my family it's "moms") who sacrifice to make sure the day becomes a life-long, special memory for the kids.

Contained within those small moments is the real meaning of Christmas, for me anyway.

By Thursday, life will be back to the normal day-to-day grind, so the joy that's experienced is fleeting, of course. But it's a powerful, addictive feeling; so powerful, in fact, that I'll brave the malls and put up with the hypocrisy next year.

Just for the hope of experiencing it again, for a short time.

The Painted Veil

Poor Kitty!

The spoiled little rich girl is under pressure from her parents to get married, or risk becoming cut off from their wealth. The problem is, Kitty (played by Naomi Watts) is, in addition to spoiled, shallow and pretentious. No suitor is good enough for her, because she can't possibly love anyone as much as she loves herself.

Dr. Walter Fane, played by the always great Edward Norton, falls for her despite the obvious character flaws. Emotionally distant and intelligent, Fane is the polar opposite of Kitty. Regardless, he talks her into marriage in much the same way he'd negotiate where they might have dinner later that evening: he appeals to her sense of logic, and she accepts.

Theirs is a strained relationship that ultimately becomes rather hopeless. Until, that is, Dr. Fane and Kitty become heavily involved in trying to cure a cholera epidemic in rural China, during the late 1920s. Observing her husband through the eyes of those he's trying to help gives Kitty a new perspective, and helps her discover respect and develop love for her husband.

The Painted Veil is a perfect illustration of how we humans choose our perspective and our outlook on life, and how we can lead a life of meaning under any circumstances.

My friend from The Goat Rope talks about this existential theory in a terrific post from November.

The Painted Veil was shot mostly in China and shows such beautiful scenery, a contrast which makes even more obvious the misery most of the humans who live in this region of the world endure. The film is less a love story than a story of acceptance.

But it's a terrific, well written story with great acting and an important message.

The Marsh

Gabrielle Anwar is Clair Holloway, a successful author of children's books. Holloway has increasingly disturbing visions of a very young girl--sort of like in The Ring--walking through (or being stalked through) a marsh-like setting. The distress of what she keeps seeing causes Halloway to seek out and stay at the South Carolina farm house which serves as a backdrop for her visions.

Or are they really memories?

The Marsh co-stars Forest Whitaker as an investigator of the paranormal. But even his terrific acting ability can't save this The Ring-inspired flick. It's predictable, poorly paced, unbelievable and anti-climactic.

One of the strangest aspects of this movie is something that really makes most horror flicks unbelievable to me: when Holloway meets up with an evil ghost in the isolated and creepy farm house late at night, it attacks her. Then, after the ghost leaves, Holloway lies down to sleep, and continues to stay in the house for several more days.


My ass would have been in a Holiday Inn three towns away within an hour of even thinking I saw a freakin' ghost.





My grandma mourned the death of her husband, my grandfather, for the full 15 years or so she lived after he died. She used to say: "If only I could see him one more time. Visit with him, or touch him once more."

She had a strange sense of humor, and always appreciated mine. After she'd say that, I'd reply: "Seriously, Mama, I loved him too. But if he shows up beside my bedside tonight, he's either a ghost or a zombie, and both of those scare me to death. I'll pass on the seeing-him-one-more-time thing."

She always laughed.

But I was serious.

Hiding From The Christmas Cheer

The word around my water cooler this morning is that Christmas carolers will be singing outside my office in early afternoon.


Ugh...

It's not that I'm a Scrooge. Really. But standing with a frozen pretend-I'm-enjoying-this smile on my face as adults sing Frosty The Snowman while dressed in Dickens-esque costumes just gives me the creeps.

Kinda makes me feel like this:


Gotta find a place to hide.