Review: The Romantics (2010) - 1 1/2 Buckets

Some big stars’ craving for formula is insatiable… not only do they make conventional Hollywood blockbusters, they also somehow find the most formulaic indies they can. My impulse has always been to assume that when popular actors like Katie Holmes, Anna Paquin, Malin Akerman, Josh Duhamel, Elijah Wood, Adam Brody, and Candice Bergen lend their talents to a smaller project they won’t be paid their usual rate for, it’s probably something special. But here’s The Romantics, which relies on every bullshit indie cliché in the book, to prove me wrong once again.

The story is something you’d expect from a movie with surface banality like Bride Wars, darkened up to fit the “brooding drama” genre. The viewer meets the ensemble as they prepare for Lila (Paquin) and Tom’s (Duhamel) wedding. Drama bubbles from the start, because Tom used to date maid of honor Laura (Katie Homes) during college and then off and on for years after. It doesn’t take a genius to predict that this will bring problems, probably unfaithfulness on Tom’s part. The rest of the cast, made up of characters that all come equipped with their own canned eccentricities, really just blend into one, with the possible exception of Lila’s alcoholic brother Chip, who Elijah Wood does a funny job with. Yes, this is a movie that makes Malin Akerman “blend in;” unthinkable, I know.

The Romantics is so derivative of other low-budget American indies that it could pass for a parody of them. Most apparently, the soundtrack is full of piercing, high-pitched ballads meant to ironically dictate the mood, as if writer/director Galt Niederhoffer loved but totally misunderstood Zach Braff’s famed musical approach to Garden State. While music is hardly what ruins The Romantics, it’s the first phony thing the viewer will notice about it.

But early on, the real phoniness is exposed in the form of the characters. Despite the cast’s honest attempts, these people do not resemble anyone in real-life in the slightest. Only in contrived indie-world would Laura, who’s been angry with Lila for some time, even show up to this wedding, much less as the maid of honor. And of course the others enact clichés to express even more worn-out symbolism, like frolicking down to the nearby beach inebriated, in the dark. Memo to Niederhoffer: nobody cares who’ll be the first to run into the waves or what it’s supposed to make the audience feel like. I could go on, but there’s no point in just rattling off a list.

Considering The Romantics’ utter artificiality, it is admittedly surprising that the final 20 minutes of the movie pack an actual punch. (Luckily for the reputations of all involved, they also keep it from ranking as one of the worst films of the year.) Paquin and Holmes have a stripped-down confrontation that shows why they’re both respected actresses; it’s tense and exhilarating, unlike practically everything else that has come before. Ironically, only then does the viewer feel like there may actually be something more to these characters. It’s also admirable that the final scene—the inevitable wedding—doesn’t rely on any grandstanding to shake up the plot as they often do in this type of movie. But there won’t be a member of the audience who doesn’t view this sudden uptick in quality as too little, too late. The Romanticsremains a film that we’ve seen a zillion times before, a little more painful to watch than the last time we were presented these caricatures and problems.

* * *

The Romantics (2010, USA). Produced by Robert Ogden Barnum, James Belfer, Michael Benaroya, Cynthia Coury, Simon Crowe, Eva Marie Daniels, Rose Ganguzza, Daniel Hendler, Pamela Hirsch, Katie Holmes, Taylor Kephart, Lawrence M. Kopeikin, Todd J. Labarowski, Riva Marker, Nic Marshall, Tommee May, Ranjit Raju, Celine Rattray, Cecilia Kate Roque, Tony Shawkate, Jai Stefan, Ron Stein, Daniela Taplin Lundberg, Jennifer Todd, Suzanne Todd, Todd Traina, and Owen Weisman. Directed by Galt Niederhoffer. Written for the screen by Galt Niederhoffer, based on her novel. Starring Katie Holmes, Anna Paquin, Josh Duhamel, Malin Akerman, Jeremy Strong, Candice Bergen, Adam Brody, and Elijah Wood. Distributed by Paramount Famous Productions. Rated PG-13, with a running time of 95 minutes.

Box Office Predictions: Weekend of 9/10

You want accurate predictions and, last week, for the most part, I delivered. With the exception of Machete, which I substantially overestimated, my guesses fared very well. I got within half a million of both the other openers, The American and Going the Distance, and didn't do too shabbily on the holdovers, either. I'm not saying this to boast, but rather just to revel in my first really accurate week at the box office analysis game.

This weekend could extend my winning streak or completely destroy it; it's make-or-break, as there is only one new wide release. That's Paul W.S. Anderson's fourth entry in his Resident Evil franchise, based on the popular video game. However, Resident Evil: Afterlife marks the first time protagonist Alice has dodged bullets in 3D--captured by the same camera that brought us Avatar, no less--so at least one new variable factors into the equation.

While 3D naysayers argue the technology is already starting to fade from public interest, citing the declining percentage of overall ticket sales it makes up for with each new film, Resident Evil: Afterlife seems like the type of film moviegoers will want to see in the format. Not to mention, the promotional campaign has been explicit about the fact that the picture was not rendered into 3D in post-production, but shot that way, which people understand means a better-looking final film. With this in mind, I'd say Resident Evil: Afterlife comes close to the upper echelon of 3D viewership, with likely 70% of ticket-buyers seeing it in 3D. Also, in addition to standard 3D screens, the movie is playing in Digital IMAX 3D, which tacks another couple bucks onto the price. The average premium paid for the extra dimension should near $4 a ticket.

As for historical comparisons, I don't think one has to look any farther than the other films in the series. The only other worthwhile comparison I might've considered taking into account would have been similar 3D features, but there aren't any unless one stretches to 3D horror films like My Bloody Valentine. But they're not really similar, so let's get down to it... The first Resident Evil grossed $17.7 million over its opening weekend in 2002. In 2004, Part 2, Apocalypse, jumped substantially to $23m. Three years after that, Extinction, the immediate predecessor to this new film, opened to $23.7m. This means Extinction was about even with Apocalypse after accounting for inflation, suggesting the amount of interested viewers hit a ceiling.

So let's assume the ceiling for these movies is $23m in 2004 dollars. Adjusting for inflation to today, that's $25.9m. But we must account for the $4 3D surcharge on 70% of tickets, which we'll assume come at an average base price of $8. That would mean the 3D version will take in $24.2m and the 2D version another $6.9m, bringing my final prediction for Resident Evil: Afterlife to a stellar $31.1 million.

Other than that, there are only a handful of indies coming out in limited release, and only one of them is likely to many any waves. It's Casey Affleck's documentary about Joaquin Phoenix's attempt to start a rap career, I'm Still Here, suspected by some to be a hoax. The movie opens in 19 sites and initial interest should be strong enough to manage a per theater average of around $8,000, but I'd be surprised if it got much higher than that because of the fact that it debuts nationwide on Video OnDemand in just two weeks.

My prediction of what the full top 10 will look like:

1. Resident Evil: Afterlife ... $31.1m ($9,710 PTA)

2. The American ... $6.3m ($2,224 PTA) -52.2%

3. Takers ... $5.4m ($2,465 PTA) -50.3%

4. Machete ... $4.1m ($1,531 PTA) -64.0%

5. Going the Distance ... $3.4m ($1,122 PTA)

6. The Last Exorcism ... $3.2m ($1,172 PTA) -56.4%

7. The Expendables ... $3.2m ($1,046 PTA) -51.7%

8. The Other Guys ... $2.9m ($1,291 PTA) -45.1%

9. Eat Pray Love ... $2.8m ($1,197 PTA) -41.7%

10. Inception ... $2.7m ($1,706 PTA) -40.9%

Historically, post-Labor Day weekend drops have been brutal, and I don't expect this weekend to be any exception.

Have thoughts on this new feature? Like it, don't like it, want something added? Shoot me an e-mail at webmaster@bucketreviews.com.

Review: Get Low (2010) - 3 Buckets

I’m a big believer in the idea that a movie’s power to stick with the viewer is just as important as the impression it makes as it rolls through the projector gate. This is why I’m recommending Get Low. The movie is sleepy—boring in parts, even—and leads up to a payoff that isn’t as immediately fulfilling on a narrative level as one might hope. But between its assured delivery and its strong performances, namely a remarkable one by lead Robert Duvall, the film lingers a lot after you see it. Normally I try to write about a movie the day following the screening, when it’s still very fresh in my memory, but in this case I’m glad time constraints prevented me from doing so until three days later. I planned on giving Get Low a just-OK review as I walked out of the theater, but every time I’ve thought about it since, it’s haunted me a little more.

While independent film connoisseurs may remember a similar premise in Sol Tyron’s little-seen The Living Wake, Get Low is a very different movie – an American original through and through. It’s set in the Midwest countryside in the 1930s. Duvall plays the quiet, reclusive Felix Bush, who at the beginning of the film learns of the death of an old friend. At this point, the viewer knows very little about him other than that kids commonly try to vandalize his house. He then makes a rare venture outside his 100-acre backwoods farm into town to see the local reverend, whom he asks to conduct a funeral… for himself.

The reverend denies the request, but Felix is overheard by Buddy (Lucas Black), who works for undertaker Frank Quinn (Bill Murray). Quinn is desperate for any business he can get in the down economy, and he agrees to entertain Felix’s request, which gets stranger as time passes. On the radio, Felix invites everyone who has a story about him to come and tell it. Over the years, he has been shrouded in gossip; some even believe he’s a murderer. In addition, Felix has decided to raffle off his home and property at $5 a ticket. But the real revelation will come in the form of a secret Felix has been keeping for ages, which he plans to share with everyone. This likely has something to do with the film’s opening shot—a house on fire as a shadowy figure runs away—and probably the dead sister of Felix’s old flame Mattie (Sissy Spacek).

The scene in which Duvall reveals his secret in front of hundreds of onlookers is emblematic of Get Low on the whole. The secret itself is anticlimactic—annoyingly so at first—but if one thinks about it, one realizes that it’s both realistic and that, despite its lack of immediate punch, it would definitely haunt this character forever. Likewise, the movie is true to the time and, even though it might not grab the viewer at first, it has a staying power waiting to be unleashed. Furthering the scene’s representation of the movie as whole is the fact that it represents the crescendo of Duvall’s amazing performance, which is all the more impressive because it’s so reserved and quiet, not reliant upon showiness. Once again demonstrating that he’s one of the finest actors of all-time, Duvall delivers Felix’s painstaking speech in extended takes, never once losing the viewers attention despite the stripped-down style. Even if one feels that everything else about Get Low is lacking, it’s still worth seeing for Duvall; he’s that great.

The other three main actors are quite good, as well. After delivering one of the most embarrassingly awful performances in recent memory in the horror film Legion, Lucas Black re-focuses and proves himself a young star to watch. Buddy could’ve easily been played trivially as a stupid hick—he’s always at the mercy of his boss, who’s the olden-day equivalent of a used car salesman—but instead he’s a source of heart in the film. Buddy doesn’t understand Felix, but he tries, making him both endearing as a character and a way for the audience to access the cryptic Felix. He’s also a foil to Bill Murray, who’s an unlikely but wholly appropriate choice to play a desperate businessman. Murray thankfully never descends into complete sleaze-ball territory, gearing his approach more toward gentle humor. And Sissy Spacek is a joy as always. Her scenes with Duvall are soft and graceful, even when their tone turns tragic for a short period.

It’s tempting to compare Get Low to an “easy listening” album in that it moves at its own pace, pleasantly but not always with apparent consequences. However, that would be a mistake, because this is not a disposable film. As the viewer gets to know Felix and think about the story once it’s over, they’ll realize Get Low packs quite a bit of emotional heft. I’d suspect the film is even better on subsequent viewings, with Duvall’s performance becoming more affecting when you know what kind of weight rests on Felix’s shoulders throughout. Even if it might seem underwhelming at first, this is the kind of movie that should be made more often, because what good is cinema if it only lasts for two hours?

* * *

Get Low (2010, USA). Produced by Daniel Baur, Rob Carliner, Beth W. Crookham, Blerim Destani, Robert Duvall, Scott Fischer, Dariusz Gasiorowski, David Ginsberg, David Gunlach, Don Mandrik, Alain Midzik, C. Gaby Mitchell, Brad Park, Brandie Park, Justyna Pawlak, Lily Philips, Chris Provenzano, Joey Rappa, Richard Luke Rothschild, Oliver Simon, Konrad Wojterkowski, Dean Zanuck, and Harrison Zanuck. Directed by Aaron Schneider. Written for the screen by Chris Provenzano and C. Gaby Mitchell. Story by Chris Provenzano and Scott Seeke. Starring Robert Duvall, Bill Murray, Lucas Black, Sissy Spacek, Gerald McRaney, and Bill Cobbs. Distributed by Sony Pictures Classics. Rated PG-13, with a running time of 100 minutes.

Review: Going the Distance (2010) - 2 1/2 Buckets

Going the Distance is undone because its conventions overpower its original material, of which there is actually quite a bit. But why is this? After all, my two favorite movies of last year, Adventureland and (500) Days of Summer, were essentially cliché romantic comedies bolstered to greatness by original writing, style, and structure. Like those films, Going the Distance is hardly your average genre effort, despite its inclusion of a traditional meet-cute, a predictable final act, and more. On the surface, greatness doesn’t seem so far from reach.

However, when watching Going the Distance, it’s immediately clear where this film comes up short and the aforementioned ones didn’t: the characters. No matter how much the viewer may marvel over the fresh story decisions to not have either of the main couple cheat on each other or to include organically R-rated dialogue, the sense of originality missing from the central duo makes the whole exercise seem manufactured.

That’s not to say that Erin (Drew Barrymore) and Garrett (Justin Long) aren’t charming (they are) or that their chemistry doesn’t feel genuine (it better, as Barrymore and Long are in a real-life relationship). And so, as the viewer watches them get to know each other over Erin’s six-week newspaper internship in Manhattan and then struggle to make it work when she returns to San Francisco, they may enjoy the experience, but they’re not invested in it.

It’d be easy to blame the actors, especially Barrymore, for the simple fact that she’s played this role a dozen times and therefore could easily be construed as a caricature of herself. But they’re not the problem; they provoke more than enough audience-fawning and make the implications of the relationship feel real. Instead, the problem is Geoff LaTulippe’s writing, which seems so caught up in capturing an authentic long-distance relationship that it forgets about the people involved. Despite the actors’ endearing representations, these two couldn’t get any more cookie-cutter – he’s a semi-successful record-label employee who’s dying to jump off the corporate ladder and she’s a 31-year-old who’s still in graduate school because of the time she wasted chasing after a guy. As a result, the execution itself never overcomes this generic core mold, resulting in an audience that just doesn’t care.

Because the viewer remains relatively unmoved throughout, they’re also more likely to scrutinize other conventional material in the film. One of the key tricks in making a rom-com is to sweep the viewer up in the story so much that they don’t notice the underlying clichés; Going the Distance never gets away with this. The best example of something that would’ve been a home run in a more skilled film but is only a pleasant diversion here are Garrett’s two best friends, Dan (Charlie Day of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia”) and Box (Jason Sudeikis of “SNL”). Dan, in particular, has some really inventive, funny bits, but the movie’s overriding sense of coldness reminds us that he’s just the requisite quirky friend there to offer zaniness and he is therefore less engaging.

The movie was directed by Nanette Burstein, whose previous works are the documentaries The Kid Stays in the Picture and American Teen. Both of those films, particularly the latter, enjoyed wide exposure by genre standards, perhaps gaining additional traction because of their creative embellishments. The latter, particularly, played more like orchestrated drama than real life. Interesting that Burstein would choose a script that feels very similar for her fiction debut. Sure, writer LaTulippe deserves credit for infusing Going the Distance with quite a bit of original stuff, including a handful of raunchy, laugh-out-loud moments. (And can I reiterate that these characters somehow find a way not to cheat on each other!?) LaTulippe’s work would likely get an A in any amateur screenwriting workshop. But that’s precisely the problem with Going the Distance: like a relationship that looks perfect on paper but then doesn’t work out, the movie has all the required elements but is missing the passion and soul.

* * *

Going the Distance (2010, USA). Produced by Jennifer Gibgot, Garett Grant, and Adam Shankman. Directed by Nanette Burstein. Written for the screen by Geoff LaTulippe. Starring Drew Barrymore, Justin Long, Charlie Day, Jason Sudeikis, Christina Applegate, Ron Livingston, and Jim Gaffigan. Distributed by Warner Bros. Rated PG-13, with a running time of 109 minutes.

Review: Machete (2010)

Let’s suppose a gourmet Mexican meal were wrapped up in Taco Bell take-out containers and fed to a dozen random folks. It’s reasonable to assume at least eight would instantly realize they were not eating terrible fast food, but something better, purposefully concealed. The other four, on the other hand, might just accept what’s before them and say, “Damn, Taco Bell has gotten really good at making enchiladas.”

OK, perhaps an extended Mexican food analogy is too obtuse, but Machete is that gourmet enchilada in a Taco Bell container. In constructing an homage to exploitation films of the 1970s, it replicates its subjects’ outrageously severe presentation of serious issues, illegal immigration in this instance. Machete could be no more didactically inflammatory; in it, white politicians are satanic figures and the Mexican aliens they’re fighting against are free, beautiful revolutionaries.

For those familiar with the blaxploitation and grindhouse films that writers Robert and Álvaro Rodriguez are referencing, the movie is superfluous bliss, start to finish. This is easily the best constructed and most consistently entertaining film Robert, who also fills his usual roles of directing and editing, has ever made. I personally loved it. But I also believe that films must be socially responsible and consider their potentially dangerous cultural implications, even when it isn’t their fault some viewers don’t “get” it.

What I mean is, it’s clear that some viewers, particularly in the young Latino community, will take Machete not as a send-up to a genre, but as a celebration of violent activism. With the heated battle over immigration currently taking place, with both sides ready to trivialize each other, Machete is the poster-child for a film that will be misinterpreted and used as propaganda. Its idealness for this purpose not only came across to me as I watched it, but it was evidenced around me, with many fellow audience members cheering the violent protagonist on in his anti-white rampage. Some may disagree that the movie bears any responsibility for its unintended effects, but I’m skeptical. Yeah, I had a lot of fun watching it, but does its accessibility come at a cost?

That’s not to say that all art should be self-censoring because it may lead wackos to do crazy things. Some of the best films made have featured intentionally offensive, provocative material; this is often an artistic necessity. But the problem in Machete’s case is that the reward for the risk is so minor. While the movie is a supremely well-done mock-up of the B-movie genre, it doesn’t have anything powerful to say to compensate for those it may mislead. Certainly, there is a chance that those who don’t “get” the joke won’t, in fact, illogically leap to the conclusion that it is indeed a rallying cry for a “brown” revolution in America, in which case the enjoyment of those in on the joke will come at no expense. But with such a volatile issue, I think there’s reason to fear. Not to mention, the diehard anti-immigration movement’s potential reaction to the film is just as worrisome as their opposition’s; they may be even more likely to view Machete as a call to arms and then dumbly deem it representative of the views of all Mexican-Americans.

But because Machete is out there and I certainly would not advocate any kind of authoritative censorship, I will let you make your own decisions about its social implications. What I can talk about objectively is the movie’s supreme skill and entertainment value.

Danny Trejo, in perhaps his most commanding performance ever, reprises his role from a fake trailer in Rodriguez’ Grindhouse and runs wild with it. He’s the title Machete, an ex-Federale who escapes to the United States and pretends to be a day laborer after his plot to bust a dangerous Mexican drug-lord (Steven Seagal!) goes awry. In America, he just so happens to be hired by a mysterious businessman (Jeff Fahey) to assassinate an anti-immigrant senator (Robert De Niro) for $150,000. Machete expresses no reservations in accepting the job, giving the payout to the leader of “The Network” (Michelle Rodriguez), a secret organization that helps Mexicans cross the border. But just when he’s about to pull the trigger, Machete is shot himself and a hidden gunman puts a bullet in the senator’s leg. Machete was clearly a pawn. The man who put him up to the job was actually in the senator’s camp and he wanted Machete to become the violent face of illegal immigration, allowing the Senator to surge in the polls. But our hero is too sly to let that happen, escaping despite his wound and then seeking vengeance against the campaign, which is representative of a white America that just wants to keep the brown man down. Jessica Alba, Lindsay Lohan, and Cheech Marin all pop up along the way to lend spice.

Trejo is downright magnetic, giving the character the same campy force as Richard Roundtree did for Shaft. This is hardly even a winking performance; in fact, it’s dead serious, relying on the movie as a whole to do the winking. I can’t think of anyone but Trejo pulling it off, with his scary, tough-guy image and workmanlike presence. And even better is the fact that he’s matched by the rest of the cast, which fit the established prototypes of their roles perfectly. Alba is just as hot as she is the person you’d least expect to play an ICE agent, and that’s pretty much what the part called for. Lohan, in a near-tragic turn, pretty much plays her pre-recovery self: the drug-addled, webcam-broadcasting daughter of a corrupt drug trafficker. It’s hard to believe De Niro is in the movie at all, which is by itself enough to make him consistently interesting. Michelle Rodriguez mostly just stands around and looks pretty, with the big payoff being a seemingly endless shot of her midriff in the third act. And Cheech Marin fulfills the role of the comedian who’s so washed up he must resort to awkwardly delivering a serious performance… how’s that for Meta?

But even more than Machete is an actor’s movie, it’s Rodriguez’ movie. Often referred to as Hollywood’s handyman, essentially making home movies with big stars that play in a lot of theaters, Rodriguez embraces his reputation and makes a self-aware extravaganza. Sure, Rodriguez had a studio to please, but his independent approach is about as close to that of the subject exploitation films as any mainstream film will ever come. And boy does he take advantage of this, making Machete as much of a Mexploitation flick as possible. Just when you think the movie can’t up the ante any more as it moves into the third act—after a dozen crazy jump-cut sequences and huge explosions and more—then come the low-riders and a balls-to-the-walls finale that embarrass everything that’s come before. Those viewers on Rodriguez’ wavelength will marvel, “What was he thinking!?” in the best possible way, over and over. I’ve called the guy an amateur many times in the past, but somehow in making the most amateur-seeming of all his movies, Rodriguez has crafted his most accomplished, stimulating piece of art to date.

Hopefully the dramatic turn from skepticism to praise seen in this review will highlight the dilemma that Machete presents me. Usually, I don’t like most critics’ tendency to see themselves as smarter and more culturally aware than the average viewer, but in this case, I feel that I am. If I were the only one watching Machete, I’d have no problem writing my glowing response without any caveats. But I’m honestly concerned about the emotions the movie may rile up, in private even more so than in public. Then again, only when movies do said riling are we reminded that the art form is alive and well, so at least I can take comfort in that.

Rating taking cultural responsibility into account:

Rating throwing caution to the wind:

* * *

Machete (2010, USA). Produced by Elizabeth Avellan, Alan Bernon, Alistair Burlingham, Dominic Cancilla, Jerry Fruchtman, Peter Fruchtman, Jack Gilardi Jr., Anthony Gudas, Aaron Kaufman, Myles Nestel, Iliana Nikolic, Darby Parker, Tom Proper, Steve Robbins, Robert Rodriguez, Rick Schwartz, and Quentin Tarantino. Directed by Robert Rodriguez and Ethan Maniquis. Written for the screen by Robert Rodriguez and Álvaro Rodríguez. Starring Danny Trejo, Robert De Niro, Jessica Alba, Steven Seagal, Michelle Rodriguez, Jeff Fahey, Cheech Marin, and Lindsay Lohan. Distributed by 20th Century Fox. Rated R, with a running time of 105 minutes.