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Camp Rock 2: The Final Jam (2010)
Camp Rock 2 - The good, the bad and the Jonas Brothers
I am not your typical audience for this movie, a 27-year old male who was barely aware of the first movie and is definitely not a fan of the Jonas Brothers (themselves or their music). However, I've been strangely addicted to Sonny With A Chance on the Disney Channel of late largely due to the presence of the immensely likable and talented Demi Lovato. So, thanks to that factor and Disney's incessant, annoying advertising for this film, I thought I would give it a shot, and to be totally fair I even downloaded and watched the first one beforehand.
Well, there are some strong positives in Camp Rock 2, I will admit, but they are canceled out by the large negatives. The plot of this film is far flimsier than in the first, for one thing. It's tired and predictable, the "twist" ending notwithstanding. So suddenly we have a rival for Camp Rock, yet they are never more than generic "villians" and egocentric stereotypes. Both Brad's nemesis and Luke Williams are not given any back-story, and don't really function at all as characters except to sneer and laugh at the camp rockers. Meaghan Martin's Tess, who was deliciously catty and given lots of fun lines to chew on in the first film, is relegated to nothingness and she defects to Camp Star and basically spends most of her scenes sniping with Luke. Thankfully those aren't many. The resolution of her "arc", such as it is, is lame and not very credible.
But then, what IS credible in this film? The relationship between Nick Jonas and Chloe Sullivan's characters is laughably awful, and I find it hard to believe that his song - funny as it is - would have the intended effect after his weird and strangely creepy behavior in the rest of the movie. Um, then again the girl isn't that with it either. The three main friends of Mitchie's from the first movie are banished to maybe ten lines TOTAL combined in this one, and as a result I stopped caring about them. Kevin Jonas is moderately entertaining as comic relief but when the highlight of your character is getting your butt glued to a log, there isn't much else to say.
Which brings us to the main attractions, Demi Lovato and Joe Jonas, and the songs themselves. Joe has good chemistry with Demi but aside from one scene (right before "Fire and Rain" when they argue), his acting is woeful and his facial expressions while singing are cringe-worthy. Demi is excellent for the most part but not up to her usual standard because her character is written into something else altogether. When she finds out the pressure that Brad will be under should Camp Rock fail to compete, she morphs into a domineering control freak and basically kills all goodwill that this movie could have possibility contained. Despite these failures of plot and character, Camp Rock 2 does deserve credit for some really good songs and choreography. Most of the dances are energetic and filmed and edited into rousing set pieces. "Brand New Day" is a good way to kick everything off, and I love "It's On" and "We Can't Back Down" as well. "Fire and Rain", aside from Joe's contorted face, is a great duet. However, most of the other songs fall flat; I didn't care for "Fire" all that much and the latter songs are all forgettable - including both Final Jam numbers and the campfire stuff at the end. The less said about the JoeBros' attempt to rock and roll, the better. Nick's song is definitely funny but less for it's intended purpose and more for the reaction it elicits. However the most egregious thing to me is that the single best song was cut out of the broadcast version! "Different Summers" is an outstanding showcase for Lovato's vocal range and yet did not air during the premiere; this is an amazing oversight by Disney.
Overall, I can't say I wasn't entertained by the movie, but it was mostly for all the wrong reasons. The paper-thin characters, idiotic plot and subplots and some strange choices by the actors made it difficult at times but the songs and choreography were worth sitting through once. Hopefully Lovato and some of the other players get something worth their talent and time, one day soon. Until then, I'll stick to watching Sonny.
Who's That Knocking at My Door (1967)
Catholic Guilt, in an early form.
I recently read the book "Scorsese by Ebert", in which the great critic examines the body of work of the great director through reviews, interviews, new conversations, and so forth. One of the more interesting bits in the book was the topic of Scorsese's first film, "Who's That Knocking At My Door?", which I had picked up a few months ago at a used DVD place but had not actually watched. So, inspired by Ebert's view and by Scorsese's own thoughts, I sat down to view this movie as a curiosity piece at the very least.
I must say, it was much better than I imagined. First some context: this started as a short film in 1967 that was to be called "Bring On The Dancing Girls", about a bunch of guys and their typical guy experiences in and around New York. Then, the idea became to splice in a love story between one of the guys (J.R., played by Harvey Keitel) and a girl he meets on the Staten Island Ferry (Zina Bethune) and title it "I Call First". Then an exploitation distributor offered to distribute the film if there was some sex and nudity added to it, which Scorsese did, and changed the title again.
Despite being cobbled together out of many disparate parts, Scorsese and his assistant Mardik Martin manage to weave a coherent and interesting narrative throughout. One of the most startling things is that, at the young age of 25, Scorsese already showed the technical command and a number of future hallmarks that would make him one of the most celebrated American directors ever. For example, the scene in which J.R. and The Girl first meet on the ferry is nearly done in one take, with only two or three cuts (an effective overheard shot as Keitel changes positions being the best) while the camera pans back and forth as they have their conversation on the films of John Wayne, French magazines and language, and so forth. The dialogue in the scene is also wonderful, and not at all plot-oriented - arguably because there was no semblance of a plot yet but also because both Keitel and Bethune speak and act naturally, as two people who are simply interested in what the other has to say.
The ideas of Catholic guilt, the nature of sin and redemption, and the Madonna-Whore Complex figure heavily in nearly all of Scorsese's films. Consider Mean Streets, which is entirely about Charlie trying to reconcile his lifestyle with his sense of guilt and protect Johnny Boy from certain destruction as a form of redeeming himself. Or Jake LaMotta's inability to deal with Vickie on any normal terms. There is an early scene in this film when J.R. and The Girl are making out, passionately, and suddenly he stops. "What's wrong?", she asks. He tries to find the words to explain but can't, and mumbles about being old-fashioned, and not ready yet. However, Scorsese keeps showing us an image of the Virgin Mary on his dresser and alludes to what is really going on - she is still the Madonna, and J.R. doesn't want her to become The Whore. Another great, simple scene shows the two together at the table, and she lights a holy candle. "You don't do that with a holy candle!", he says. She just thought it would be nice. "What am I going to do with you?", he laments, smiling.
She doesn't understand, but we do. The scene is performed breezily but there is a small undercurrent of tension due to J.R.'s religious principles. Immediately afterwards, Scorsese presents us with the crux of the whole movie - the girl tells J.R. that she was raped one night by a guy she used to drive around with, as we see a remarkably edited flashback of the event. His reaction is anger, and notice he blames her as a gut reaction? He cannot handle the fact that her Madonna image is now shattered for him. He tries to deal with it by getting drunk with the boys, but to no avail.
I haven't mentioned J.R.'s friends much; their clowning around is very real; we all know people like this. If it seems sometimes that they are from another movie, well in point of fact they are. But they do help to establish J.R.'s character, and that's really all that matters. Michael Scala is particularly good as the leader of this crew, constantly irritated and harassing the others but in a good-natured way.
Finally, in the movie's last scenes, J.R. drunkenly stumbles up to The Girl's apartment to talk to her. She is unexpectedly kind to him despite his earlier rejection, and they profess their love for one other. Then J.R. makes a huge mistake; he says he "forgives her" and will marry her anyway. "You forgive me...?", she says, bewildered. She knows it still bothers him and when she confronts him, he admits as much. Then she tells him it's not enough to just love her, but cannot explain to him why. Now it is HE who doesn't understand that there is nothing to forgive. Zina Bethune is phenomenal here; I hope to see more of her work. Crucially, the film does not end with J.R. realizing his error and marrying the girl, as we think it might, but with him trying to find solace at the the church confessional as Scorsese cross cuts with Christian imagery. Appropriate, if a little heavy-handed.
All in all, this is a significant film, despite it's fractured history. It announces the work of a true talent distinctly with his own voice, and focuses on many themes that remain central to Scorsese's work. It is no masterpiece - there is too much fat, some unnecessary nudity (for the distributor) and the pace is far too languid, but as a starting point for examining the scope of Martin Scorsese's art it is invaluable.
The Silence of the Lambs (1991)
The American Nightmare
So I recently had a conversation with a friend who is ten years younger than me about the relative merits of the new wave of horror thrillers and remakes (Last House On The Left, The Hills Have Eyes, Halloween, etc.). She is a fan of the genre but remarkably she hadn't seen this film. We watched it together and she was understandably blown away. "That might be the most tense climax I've ever seen on film!", as she put it. I figure moving into Hitchcock is the next logical step, but I digress.
It's still amazing to me that the Academy deigned to recognize a psychological thriller that opened in the first quarter of 1991, and not only that but made it the third film ever (and so far the last) to sweep all 5 "major" awards. But the appeal of Silence of the Lambs has little to do with its critical accolades. This is a film with deceptively subtle themes, a brilliant screenplay and superb direction, and two of the most outstanding performances in film history. All thrillers since owe a debt to SOTL and probably could learn a thing or two about the power of sustained tension and suspense from it, instead of the "gotcha" sensibility of modern horror.
The story follows Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster), a fresh-faced FBI agent with obvious ambition, as she becomes involved in the case of a serial killer named Buffalo Bill. Bill has a predilection for skinning his victims, and other bizarre character traits which become apparent later. He is also exceptionally smart and due to a lack of evidence, the FBI can only glean a pattern of his crimes but nothing about the man himself. In desperation, her boss Jack Crawford (Scott Glenn) suggests that she seek insight from another notorious killer, Dr. Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins). And that's when everything is really set in motion.
One of the most overlooked aspects of SOTL is the buried symbolism of America. Director Jonathan Demme and his DP Tak Fujimoto use heavy reds, whites, and blues all throughout the film. Sometimes, the tinted effect emphasizes tension; other times, danger. Aside from the opening training sequences in Quantico, you'd be hard-pressed to find many well-lit bright shots. A key scene in which Bill takes another unsuspecting victim is foreshadowed by that victim singing Tom Petty's "American Girl". Location and colloquial dialects of many characters are extremely important in highlighting American culture. There is definitely an "only in America"-type of recurring motif. If The Godfather represents The American Dream, SOTL is The American Nightmare.
Another brilliant choice that Demme makes is to use a lot of closeups with no camera movement on Clarice and Hannibal. He trusted that his two actors, with such compelling facial expressions, could handle the material and they don't disappoint. Much has been said about both Foster and Hopkins' work here so I won't repeat much, except to say that Starling's vulnerability vs. Lecter's unflinching, probing gaze is one of the fundamental reasons that the film sustains so much pressure and both actors are marvelous in some excruciatingly emotional scenes.
Finally, the screenplay elevates the material to that of a classic. Consider how strong a character Clarice is. She is not submissive to her superiors, who initially dismiss her talents because she is a female with no real experience. However, though she starts out as a timid, passive agent her strength of will and perseverance shine through and eventually HER efforts lead to the resolution. She also refuses to succumb to Lecter's psychological torture, and that is why he finds her so intriguing and continues to push her deeper and deeper into her rawest emotions. Rarely has there been such a well-developed, strong female lead in all of film history. On top of all that, the screenplay affords equal time to Buffalo Bill, a decision that makes him all the more interesting since we see and learn of his process, methods, reasons, and true brutality. The night-vision climactic standoff is so effective precisely because we truly care about Clarice and genuinely fear for her safety if she fails.
In short, instead of watching the high gore, low impact crap that passes for a good horror thriller these days, you could do much better and see one of the most effective and revered movies in the genre. With edge of the seat tension, powerful imagery and a chilling masterclass of acting by Anthony Hopkins (in only 16 minutes of screen time!) along with great work by Jodi Foster, Silence of the Lambs is rightly considered among the best of its kind. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm having an old friend for dinner...
Warui yatsu hodo yoku nemuru (1960)
The Bad do indeed sleep well in this overlooked Kurosawa...
"The Bad Sleep Well" is a forgotten gem from one of Japan's great masters, Akira Kurosawa. His other two Shakespeare adaptations, "Throne of Blood" (Macbeth) and "Ran" (King Lear), are much more famous and well-regarded, justifiably so if you have seen them ("Ran" is particular is my favorite of all Kurosawa films). However, this sharp and caustic adaptation of Hamlet deserves an equal amount of praise and recognition. It may be the most bleak subject matter that Kurosawa ever tackled - the corruption in the highest levels of government in post-war Japan.
The film begins with a long but funny wedding sequence that illustrates Kurosawa's great skill as a director. We (and the camera) are among a group of reporters discussing the numerous convenient reasons for the marriage; the bride is lame and the daughter of Iwabuchi, the head of corporation, and the bridegroom, Nishi, has aspirations to elevate his status in the business. We see the comedy of manners play out in this sequence in increasingly humorous situations as the various parties deny the rumors and reporters continue comment to each other, culminating in the panicked looks on the faces of the corporate higher-ups as the wedding cake arrives - in the shape of their office building, Public Corp., with a red X marking a spot in one of the windows where one of their former partners committed suicide. It's a virtuoso sequence that perfectly sets up the tone of the rest of the film.
The newspapers have a field day with this, especially when various members of Public Corp. are investigated for fraud and embezzlement, yet they stoically remain silent and the case goes nowhere. Then it heats up again as a few of them commit suicide; the rumors are that they were goaded into doing so (n fact, they were). However, without any substance to press the matter, the case is dropped. And that's when the real story begins - one of the Public Corp executives, Wada, survives and is rescued by Nishi and his shadowy accomplice, Itakura.
This is followed by a brilliant scene in which Wada is taken to his own funeral and observes the farce - all the while, Nishi plays him a tape with Moriyama and Shirai, his former partners, plotting his murder. The way Kurosawa stages this is masterful; the sublime music emanating from the funeral is contrasted dramatically with the cold-blooded words of Public Corp, as Wada listens on. One of the ways Wada contributes is to scare the living hell out of Shirai - Wada poses as a ghost of himself in order to freak him out (a clever method of adding in the ghost in Hamlet). As the plot progresses, Nishi reveals his reasons for saving Wada and exacting a very personal revenge on Iwabuchi and his cohorts; and the story's pace becomes more frantic and exciting with a dramatic but sudden conclusion.
Technically, Kurosawa is at his best here. The wedding and the funeral are both marvels of observational behavior and they contrast each other perfectly. He uses a lot of intriguing mise-en-scene compositions for his interiors that serve to highlight his characters' inner thoughts but very little movement of the camera in order to manipulate his audience; the dark nature of the story is enough to suck you in. One of the fascinating observations in "The Bad Sleep Well" is that nearly all of the characters are morally bankrupt and filled with secrets - even Nishi, the protagonist. His wife, the Ophelia character, is the only one that Kurosawa allows us to feel sympathy for, and even then in the end she is not fully spared her grief. Taken in this context, Kurosawa's Hamlet becomes a study in the morality and pragmatism of revenge but also an incisive jab at the fat cats in modern Japan.
If there is a flaw in the film, it is that the overall pacing is not always brisk enough to sustain the long running time (2 1/2 hours). The wedding, despite being absolutely essential, is protracted; the rest of the film is much quicker but still drags in parts. Also, Kurosawa seems unsure about his ending; the film ends quite abruptly but appropriately in terms of his larger point about the hopelessness of fighting the rampant corruption, I would argue. However, despite these flaws, overall "The Bad Sleep Well" is a masterful and dark excursion into the seedy side of corporate crime, using Shakespeare Hamlet brilliantly but not completely as it's core. Toshiro Mifune in particular gives one of his most unique low-key performances; instead of his usual fiery exterior we get a performance full of internalized anger throughout. Highly recommended.