KILLER ELITE offers nothing new in the action department

   Before the plot gets rolling like a bolder down a steep hill, the audience indulges in a pre-screen title. The couple of sentences are related to covert operations and secret assassins. Show us. Don’t tell us. How do the filmmakers show us that the central characters are part of an elite society of killers? Is it because they’re dressed in slick black, carry heavy artillery, and have dynamite fighting skills? Perhaps so, but I need a better understanding of what a SAS (Special Air Service) man is supposed to really be like, than what I’ve seen in a plethora of action films related to international spies and terrorists.

            Killer Elite is the latest Hollywood action yarn to hit theaters. I found the plot to be too smart for its own good. The film is essentially about an oil sheik that kidnaps an SAS man, played by Robert De Niro, in order to force a retired assassin, played by Jason Statham (Transporter, Crank) to come out of hiding and do one last job. The sheik wants to avenge the people who killed his three sons, but, catch this; those very killers are part of the same SAS group. The setup sounds great; we get a game of cat-and-mouse between assassins part of the same group. Unfortunately, the execution is a cheerless and clichéd mess.

            Killer Elite opens with a dazzling action sequence; bullets spray across the frame and the car explosions create a pillow of smoke over the desert. When a film opens strong, it must continue along the rollercoaster, outdoing previous action pieces. After Jason Statham assassinates his target, he comes face-to-face with an innocent girl caught in the crossfire. The film cuts to a tight shot of her traumatized eyes and sets-up Statham’s motivation for retiring with his wife, a pointless character, in the Australian outback. Oh, and perhaps if you can’t understand why he wants “out” of this secret killing society, don’t worry, we see the same shot of those sad innocent eyes midway through the film. Get my point?

            So, as the plot continues, and the stone-like characters bore me, Statham receives a letter that his mentor, Robert De Niro, is being held prisoner. The next scene, he’s on a plane to the Middle East with the same old crew, doing the same old job, but this time around, is being chased by his own people. Clive Owen is also part of an elite group, and as his men are being killed one by one, he’s on a chase across the globe to take down Jason Statham. At first, I was confused as to who Clive Owen’s character really was. I’m guessing that the writers felt that if he’s dressed in black and talking in a so-called “serious” manner, in an undisclosed office building, then the audience will be able to guess that he’s part of the same SAS group. These visuals did not help. Instead, I had to really pay attention to the dialogue to figure this out.

            Apparently, Killer Elite is based on a true story. I suspect it’s based on true events, but the dangerous stunts and killing scenes were certainly embellished, which is fine in my book. I love action films. I love to be entertained by Hollywood stars and spectacular set-pieces, but if I didn’t care if these characters lived or died, I can’t immerse myself into the story. I understand that it’s an action piece, but if it’s a true story then there should be some social awareness about the greedy complications surrounding the oil industry.  All in all, Killer Elite bored me with international shenanigans.

* * (out of four stars)

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THE DEER HUNTER remains a screen classic

            There’s a key scene in Michael Cimino’s Vietnam-era classic, The Deer Hunter (1978), in which Robert De Niro comes face-to-face with his prey; a beautiful, long-horned deer. He’s in perfect aim with his rifle, and in the backdrop are the breathtaking Pennsylvanian mountains. In a moment of psychological confusion and hurt, he shoots the rifle up to the sky. This single action surmises the entire film.

The opening setting consists of a small, working class town in Pennsylvania, built around a steel factory and a Russian Orthodox Cathedral. Working, drinking, bonding, marrying, and deer hunting are highly integrated into the blue-collar social structure. It’s a pure slice of sweet Americana.

            Robert De Niro’s character, Michael, takes pride in the recreation. Deer hunting is a tradition; a sacred bond between man and nature. Notice how Michael (De Niro) refuses to let his longtime friend, Stan (John Cazale) borrow his spare set of boots. He believes that if you’re a serious outdoorsman, then every item should be thoroughly accounted for. However, after bringing home the traumatic baggage of the Vietnam War, “killing,” even a deer, seems morally demeaning. The men’s values are warped after the horrific tour of duty. The Deer Hunter is essentially about the psychological affects the Vietnam War has on a true-blue, All-American, working-class society. The perspective of violence, warfare, service duty, and camaraderie are permanently askew in the bloody aftermath.

            The Deer Hunter is a sweeping epic told in three very distinct parts. 1. The grand wedding and farewell party. 2. The gritty war depiction. 3. Coming home and trying to build back an inkling of simple values, which were lost in the mayhem. What I love about The Deer Hunter is how unafraid it is to let every scene in the first part play out. It’s important to get to know and truly empathize with the characters.  The audience gets a better sense of how far they fell from their original personality, after Vietnam. In the end, we can’t help but care and hope for a better future.

In the first part, the director stages and frames a rich, panoramic wedding reception. In a series of magnificent wide shots, the frame is filled with townsfolk dancing, drinking, eating, fraternizing—it breaths of human connections. The director wants to make sure that you, the viewer, are allowed to inhale every detail of this all-American, tight-knit town. In another important shot, the camera pans and tilts around the Cathedral, emphasizing the Russian Orthodox heritage. In a more up-to-date film, I think the studios would find it necessary to point out the cultural overtones in the dialogue, or relay information using screen titles. Never underestimate your audience. Cinema of the 70s was very different. It was an artistic decade. Filmmakers didn’t need $150 million to create a grand epic, and the studios gave the directors more creative control.

            The Russian roulette scenes in Vietnam are by far the most suspenseful and provocative elements in the film. I found it interesting how the Vietcong would volunteer their own men and bet on a fatal game. I’ve never read or heard about underground games of Russian roulette as part of the war subculture. It could be meant as a historical fantasy—a thought-provoking way of metaphorically expressing the notorious “draft.” The chances of being randomly picked by Lotto Uncle Sam are no different than sliding a single bullet in a six barrel chamber, and praying it’s not going to be the last time. It reminds me of what Jack Nicholson said in the Departed (2006), “When you’re starring at a loaded gun, what’s the difference.”

            Watching a glorious 35 mm print of The Deer Hunter was almost as exhilarating as seeing Apocalypse Now: Redux. Francis Ford Coppola’s vision of war was more potent and imaginative; an almost, psychedelic experience. However, Michael Cimino’s The Deer Hunter is still a memorable classic; a truly emotional drama.

The 1978 Oscar-winner was showing exclusively at the Texas Theatre in Dallas. Make sure to checkout the movie theater’s website for upcoming screening.

www.thetexastheatre.com

Trash Cinema at the Texas Theatre

         Tuesday Night Trash is a laidback, film-geek venue, exclusively at the Texas Theatre in Dallas. The super-cool, tongue-and-cheek screenings puts the Midnight Movies back in the circuit. Sometimes, the theatre managers get lucky enough to snag a 16mm or 35mm print, but often, it’s a DVD projection. It really doesn’t matter. Catching these retro-schlock films on the big screen is a great pleasure.

            My first experience at Tuesday Night Trash was a screening of The Naked Kiss (1964). Personally, I wouldn’t lowball Samuel Fuller’s masterpiece as “trash,” but it’s definitely out-of-the-norm. After that first presentation, I was hooked. There are so many underbelly cult films I haven’t experienced, and the Texas Theatre has certainly enlightened my repertoire.

            Tuesday Night Trash generally consists of a hip, geek crowd, and some of the films are total cheese-cinema, but you know what, sometimes, you’ll find a diamond in the rough. The venue is about going out with your friends, laugh at the campy atrocities, and find a permanent social outing for Tuesday night.

            This week the Texas Theatre presented a 80s horror-bomb, The Basement (1989), which was a lost Super 8 film that finally got the chance to be somewhat re-mastered. The film is a horror-anthology; a zero-budget rip-off of George A. Romero’s Creepshow (1982). Four characters venture inside the basement of an abandoned house, and are encountered by a grim-reaper-like monster, who tells them about these horrific acts they’ll commit in the future. The four stories in The Basement are obviously influenced by famous indie-horror filmmakers of the 70s and 80s, which include George A. Romero (Dawn of the Dead, Day of the Dead)  Lucio Fulci (Zombie, The Beyond), and Sam Raimi (Evil Dead, Evil Dead 2).

           The majority of the Super 8 exposure is extremely dark; I felt as though I had to constantly scan from screen-left to screen-right to comprehend any of the action. In addition, the actors look like they belong in an 80’s porno, and the dubbing was so bad it’s almost funny. The director of The Basement pulls an Ed-Wood (the notorious, cross-dressing, sci-fi director of the 50s)—he uses found-footage of an erupting volcano to represent Hell on Earth.

            The point of these kinds of campy, backyard films isn’t to point-out the faults of the story, continuity, and lighting. I try to see how a filmmaker makes something out of nothing. For instance, I try to figure out what kinds of props, locations, and effects the filmmakers had at their disposal. In the case of The Basement, I presumed that they shot in a friend’s backyard for the pool-monster sequence, found locations where they didn’t have to get a permit, and got lucky enough to work with an inventive and humorous special make-up effects artist. Perhaps these inferences aren’t entirely accurate, but at least you can see what I gain from indulging in schlock-horror films from the 80s. Rounding out my point, these guys picked-up a Super 8 camera and said, “Let’s make a movie!” What did you do today?

If you’re into gun-slinging and machete-wielding clowns, then come join THE LAST CIRCUS

           The Last Circus is part horror, part action, part comedy, and all around Spanish grindhouse-celluloid. This show deserves a round of applause for the bold imagination of filmmaker Alex de Iglesia. I don’t think I’ve had this much fun at the movies in a while.

The Last Circus is a mad, twisted tale full of gore, sex, and vengeful killer clowns.

      The film begins in Spain, circa 1937, when the citizens were persecuted by the Republican Army. That’s right—no more freedom, no more circuses, and no more clowning around. The director immerses the viewer into a spectacular and gorgeously shot war sequence in which the Republican Army ransacks a circus show. The look and grittiness of the battle scene is, in a technical sense, reminiscent of Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan (1998). The frame rate of the gruesome, opening shots is split in half, and the images vibrate, as if the camera is attached to a moving power-drill.

            The central hero of The Last Circus, Javier, is an aspiring “sad clown,” continuing the circus-performing legacy in his family. Javier survives the persecution of Franco-ruled Spain in the 30s and 40s, and then moves into the early 70s, during the large, economic growth. The filmmakers create a terrific and mordant, opening credit sequence—a cheeky montage that holds-up to the super-cool, found-footage compilation in the beginning of Natural Born Killers (1994). The early images mix movie monsters with dictators and presidents; cleverly reflecting war persecution and social repression.

        When the film cuts to the present, 1973, the cinematography switches from a cold, smoky-bluish hue, to a vibrant and spritely New Spain. The look of the old world and the new world greatly contrast.  Unfortunately, the historical elements don’t weave very well into the outrageous story, but the point of the film isn’t to provide a realistic, history lesson for the viewer. Sensationalism is the filmmakers’ first priority and the history of Spain merely serves as the backdrop.

In the film we learn that the sad and pitifully jealous clown-hero never had a real childhood. As an adult, he’s emotionally tormented by his demented boss, Sergio (Antonio de la Torre), the lead clown of the circus, and his promiscuous, acrobatic lover, Natalia (Carolina Bang). Consequently, Javier feels obliged to protect the circus whore, and ends-up being beaten to a bloody pulp by his meal ticket, Sergio. The hero of the film is first portrayed as a confused, psychologically scarred, shy clown and then gradually develops into an angry-rollicking-killing machine. In the final act of the film, Javier takes a mad turn for the worse. His clown makeup is comprised of burning a layer of skin off his face with sodium chloride and placing a hot iron against his cheeks. To add to the shocking, comedic elements, the director giddily applies CGI (Computer Graphics Imagery) to some of the exaggerated and action-packed images.

The filmmakers aren’t trying for realism; the special effects and art direction are justly over-the-top. The tongue-and-cheek visual style nicely matches the overtone of the out-of-control plot-line. The Last Circus is definitely all over the place, weirdly mixing humor, gruesomeness, kinky sex, and a rain-storm of bullets, but it’s a show that’s hard to shake off. The Last Circus ran its final show Thursday night at the Texas Theatre in Dallas. However, it will be available on DVD and Blue-Ray in October; don’t forget to check this bad boy out.

*** (out of four stars)

Woody Allen's MIDNIGHT IN PARIS is a sincere pleasure

Midnight in Paris comes off as a sweet love letter to one of Woody Allen’s favorite cities (it doesn’t compete with his portrait of New York). I could imagine his neurotic, creative process. He probably took a quiet stroll along the Parisian street, went into his apartment, hopped in the shower (his thinking sanctuary), and then bam—the idea came to him in a wet flash.

            “Well, ya know, ya, I think, ya, wouldn’t it be a spontaneous, creative move, if-ya-know, I was somehow magically transported into the 1920s and hung out with all of the great literary and artistic heroes of our time in the cultural arts center of the world?”

            Midnight in Paris isn’t Allen’s best film to date, but it’s still an endearing and dreamy venture.  His signature is written all over it. He’s one of the few filmmakers, who both writes and directs all of his work, and it’s very distinctive; no one can make a Woody Allen picture besides the prolific director himself. I’m quite enamored by Allen’s simple, yet beautiful vision of every shooting location—New York, Paris, or London—I feel as though I walked into a classical Hollywood musical set. The camera is usually static and the music is mellow, but there’s a grace to all of his images.

            The film is about a Hollywood screenwriter, Gil (Owen Wilson), who vacations in Paris with his fiancé, Inez, (Rachel McAdams) and her family, hoping to find inspiration for his new novel. During one of Gil’s walks, an old car pulls up and he’s swept away to a party where he’s conversing with Picasso, Cole Porter, F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, and Ernest Hemingway. He’s captivated by the nostalgia of the city’s romantic flavor; this unusual fervor clashes with his fiancée, Inez, who prefers to buy over-priced furniture and go dancing, while Gil prefers to take a refreshing stroll at midnight. The book he’s writing is about a man who owns an old, memorabilia shop, full of sentimental history. The scenario in Gil’s story sets-up the exposition for the character’s time-warp into old Paris.

When Gil and his soon-to-be-family are dining at a café, Inez runs into an acquainted couple. This happens a lot in Woody Allen’s films. Friends will run into old friends and new sparks will fly.  When the couples double-date, they passive-aggressively compete with one another—whether it be beauty, intellect, or sex. My favorite competing couple was in Allen’s black-and-white masterpiece, Manhattan (1979), but his latest film, Midnight in Paris, is still a joy to watch. The film contains the classic overlapping dialogue, dining settings, and typical-Woody-neurosis.

The way Woody Allen shoots says a lot about his personality. For example, he prefers to shoot on a cloudy day because it’s easier to control the lighting, and it gives the images a pastel-hue. In addition, he prefers to keep the camera rolling, inertly panning back and forth, which draws more attention to the performances than the camera work.

Most importantly, he shoots at a rapid pace. Woody Allen likes to be done by 6:00 pm, so he can rush to dinner at a reasonable hour. Midnight in Paris was selected as the opener at the Cannes Film Festival. I’m sure the French greatly appreciated this gesture.

*** (out of four stars).

THE GUARD doesn't quite top the indie-crime wave

   The Guard is a hip, low-key, black comedy about two officials, one a local Irish policeman and the other an American FBI agent, who join forces to uncover a large, drug-trafficking operation. The central figure of The Guard is a zany and abhorrent Irish Sergeant, and seems like a character especially tailored for the comic likes of the late Peter Sellers or even Bill Murray. However, I must say, Irish indie-fave, Brendan Gleeson, shines in The Guard; his irreverent behavior is the perfect match for the straight-laced FBI Man, played by Don Cheadle. It’s too bad that I’ve seen this kind of oddball, criminal scenarios in a number of dark comedies, specifically the awesome In Bruges (2008), which was written and directed by Martin Mcdonagh, brother of the director of The Guard, John Michael McDonagh.

            

   The Guard opens strong, but as the clichéd, criminal plot treads along, the energy loses steam. The film opens with the bumbling Sergeant observing a drunk-driving accident along the road. A group of partying teenagers flipped their car and everyone was killed. Instead of taking the drastic situation seriously, Gleeson frisks one of the victims for any “goodies.” The Sergeant recovers a bag of drugs; he disposes of the cocaine and pops a hit of acid in his mouth. The filmmaker inserts an extreme-close-up shot of the smiley-face-acid blot. First-time director, John Michael McDonagh, perfectly establishes the bizarre and dead-pan, humorous tone, but all it really did was cause a craving for more outrageousness.

    The quirky and dim-witted police investigation holds many similarities to Fargo (1996), but unlike the Cohen Brother’s black comedic masterpiece, The Guard’s portrayal of mass corruption and murder in a simple town, doesn’t measure, not even close. I felt as though this sort of criminal-caper comedy came out a decade-and-a-half too late. It would’ve been a bigger hit in the mid-to-late 90s, especially after the post-Pulp Fiction (1994) phase.

    Besides Fargo and In Bruges, I’ve seen this sort of film before—take a look at Guy Ritchie’s English gangster hits, Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels (1998) or Snatch (2000). These were all indie gems where the criminals and the cops talked about everything humorous to them, except the plot. As you know, director Guy Ritchie and many other filmmakers in the 90s, were incredibly inspired by the ingenious hybrid of comedy and gruesomeness that was well-established in Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction. The criminals and the bumbling detectives would bicker back and forth and the audience is supposed to laugh, where I merely smirked.

    On a lighter note, I absolutely loved the rural setting—I think the filmmaker mixes different 35mm film stocks, enhancing the beauty and variety of the small Irish backdrop.  I was taken by the charming surroundings—the small local pubs, lushly green hills, and the rocky cliffs clashing against the cool blue sea. After seeing this film and the light-hearted Waking Ned Divine (1998), I’m going to have to make it a plan to visit a small Irish town, where I’d be the only American that stands out. If you closely observe the background, you’ll notice there are only a small handful of characters living in the community; my favorite being an odd English boy who drags his dog along his small pink bicycle. The filmic images in The Guard have a child-like, picture-book quality to the texture-a variation of bright and dim cinematography-and I loved looking at it.

    I think The Guard is worth checking out, perhaps when it comes out on DVD. While you’re at it, follow the film with In Bruges and Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels. Then, you’ll notice the great, humorous whims of all three films, along with the clichéd similarities of the foul-mouthed characters.

 **1/2 (out of four stars)