More 2013 Movies, Part 2: CGIants, Mint Chocolate Chip, And An Open Letter To Michael Bay.

More.

Part 1 HERE.

Jack The Giant Slayer – I know a couple of months ago I said I wasn’t going to see this (HERE, somewhere), but Sundays can do funny things to a man.  Especially after a serious night of excess and karaoke.  Or is that redundant?  Anyway, the Redbox is literally across the street in the CVS, rentals only cost a buck and change, and I needed to buy toilet paper anyway, so…

I was actually OK with this flick at first.  It started out competently enough, trying to build this extended fairy tale world to add some importance to a centuries-old tale of a dumbass who trades a cow for beans (they’re good for your heart…*)  But then it went too far.  Like, over the falls.  I mean, go ahead and shoot for The Hobbit, if you must, Bryan Singer, but don’t try to make it Lord Of The Rings.  It’s still supposed to be a fable about personal responsibility.  You didn’t need to bring the king and his entire army a half a mile from the castle to sit around a giant beanstalk while a ragtag group of wise-cracking officers climb the thing to rescue a princess, search for the magic mind-control übercrown, and try and prevent Giantgeddon from happening.  Because what that entire army was really there for was for us to be all like, “wow.  There’s an entire army there.  This thing must be EPIC.”  Which we didn’t do, because we’re not fucking numb.  And then there was, like, an army of giants, too.  Because one wasn’t enough.  And there were power struggles amongst the giants that I think were supposed to make us all like, “hey, these giants have this intricate, if not barbaric, society where the two-headed one rules, because… well, two heads, I guess.”  Or maybe it was because he had Bill Nighy’s voice.  That would have been enough for me, were I a lowly giant peon in the Giant Caste System, I guess.  And then Ewan McGregor was all like, “I’m important, because I’m charming,” and Stanley Tucci was all like, “I’m evil because I have these ridiculous fake teeth,” and his sidekick was all like, “I played Spud in Trainspotting,” and Eleanor Tomlinson was all like, “I’m a vaguely feminist fairy tale princess that doesn’t follow the rules… EEEEEEEK!  A GIANT!” And Nicholas Hoult was all like, “I think I might be Bryan Singer’s new toyboy,” and then Ian McShane said to his agent, “WHAT THE HOLY FUCK, YOU ASSHOLE, FIRST SNOW WHITE AND THE HUNTSMAN, AND NOW THIS?!?!?  I PLAYED SWEARENGEN, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!!!” (and then Eddie Marsan said the same thing to his agent, except he replaced “what the holy fuck, you asshole,” with “thanks, man,” skipped the all-caps, and ended it with another “thank you,” because he didn’t play Swearengen, for fuck’s sake), and then everyone was like, “Battle!  Siege!  Moat!  Fire!  Huzzah!”

And then I was all like, “oh, the credits are rolling… Man, I wish I had rewatched The Troll Hunter instead.”

*…the more you eat….

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The World’s End – GREEN CORNETTO!!!!!  Yeah, so I was an easy target with this one.  Shaun Of The Dead is easily a Top-5 movie (of all time) for me, and I think Hot Fuzz, while maybe not that high on my (nonexistent) list, is just as brilliant.  Simon Pegg is a genius, Nick Frost is the shit, and Edgar Wright is a true talent behind the lens.  If you haven’t seen Spaced, get that Netflix queue a-streamin’.  Those three guys were made for lovin’ you, baby, and you were made for lovin’ them.

So, The World’s End.  I’m basically having a Hot Fuzz time with it at this point, which is to say I saw it and I thought it was great, but it’s gonna take that crucial second viewing to shore up why.  Because there’s always some tasty subtext going on with the Wright/Pegg/Frost stuff that requires multiple viewings in order to really see the nuance behind the in-your-face greatness.  But, since the in-your-face greatness is all I’ve got for now, I’ll just go ahead and talk about some of it.

The acting.  Five friends, five fully realized characters, five awesome performances (Pegg, Frost, Eddie Marsan, Paddy Consadine, Bilbo Watson Martin Freeman).  You already know I think Pegg & Frost poop platinum, and with The Hobbit, Sherlock and The Office (the good one), Freeman (who is also in both Shaun & Fuzz) can do no wrong.  But Consadine (also in Fuzz) and Marsan effortlessly stood right up alongside those guys.  Each had their own way of “doing the right thing” by Pegg’s off-the-wagon alcoholic loser, humoring him, feeling sorry for him, but maintaining their identities as grown-ass men who left all this pub-crawling BS behind 20 years ago.  Oh, and Rosamund Pike is in it, too.  Still not sold on Ms. Pike.  I think she’s a good actor, but something about her always gives me pause.  Can’t put my finger on it.  This flick did make me want to see more of her, though.  I mean that nakedly.

The action.  Meticulously choreographed, hyper-kinetic, one-shot fight scenes that actually made my mouth hang open.  And the visuals broke my mind a few times.  Like the woman who suddenly has legs-for-arms coming at our heroes like a whirling dervish, or a robot teenager getting his head caved in and spurting thick, blue blood from the stump…

Oh, right…

The sci-fi.  Yeah, uh, robots.  The town the five friends have gone back to so Gary (Pegg) can relive his past glories has been taken over by an alien force and populated by robots (for lack of a better term).  But it’s not a movie brimming with laser beams and teleportation machines.  The sci-fi is just the vehicle for a very human story about depression, arrested development, alcohol abuse, friendship, and loss.  And, although I don’t want to give anything away, it culminates in a very Star Trek-inspired ending.  Sort of like if Kirk, stricken with Rigellian Fever, asked Landru, “what does god need with a starship?” on the Klingon high court set from Undiscovered Country.

Yeah, I totally just lost you there, didn’t I.  Sorry.

Basically, what I’m saying here is it’s the kind of sci-fi that relies on thought and reason to save the day, and not Spock yelling, “KHAAAAN!” as he beams out to beat up Benny Cumberbatch on the back of a space taxi.*

So, it’s weird, it’s funny, it’s thrilling, it’s sad, it’s thought-provoking.  It’s got some fan-service for the followers of the last two “Cornetto” flicks.  It’s got a satisfying conclusion.  It’s got a fun little coda.  It’s worth your time.

*I can bag on Star Trek Into Darkness all I want because I liked it.  THPPTH!!!

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Pain & Gain –

Dearest Michael Bay,

There’s something you need to understand, friend.  The Transformers movies are not where you should be spending your, uh… “talent.”  They blow.  Stuff like this is where you belong.  You’ll never be Scorsese.  You’ll never be a Coen.  Hell, you’ll never even be Tony Scott.  But it’s clear you have some passion for storytelling.  So, stop wasting it on stuff you’re not passionate about.  I get that the giant robot car movies probably make you enough money to own entire countries, but how many countries do you need, man?  Pain & Gain is where it’s at for you, dude.  A steroid-&-cocaine-fueled “true story” about three muscleheads taking the American Dream by the balls, by any means necessary, in shallow, body-conscious, mid-90’s Miami is a no-brainer for you.  It’s your bread and butter.  It’s about as close to art as you’ll ever get, and it is appreciated.  Seriously.  No irony here.  I mean, fuck, you even made me thoroughly enjoy Dwayne Johnson.  Usually the best compliment I can give him is “he’s OK for a wrestler, I guess.”  But here?  An actual nuanced performance.  How the hell did you pull that off?  And Marky Mark, too.  Usually it takes a director like David O. Russell or P.T. Anderson to make that guy not completely annoying, but here he is in a Michael Bay movie putting in an almost brilliant performance.  And this thing was funny, too.  Like, darkly funny.  Did you have any idea you could pull off a black comedy?  I sure didn’t.  Yeah, it’s a little long, and yeah, it feels like it starts five times, but I’m actually going to go ahead and chalk that up to you settling on an honest-to-god tone for this thing.  An uncomfortable, “what are we getting ourselves into?” tone that perfectly captures the insanity these three bros have thrust themselves, willingly, into.  And you didn’t even feel the need to make every shot a tracking one that only lasts 1.5 seconds, like you tend to do.  Hell, I’m pretty sure there were entire scenes using stationary cameras.  Sure, the editing and cinematography were still stylized as hell, but you actually kind of let that take a backseat and let the story drive the plot forward.  Unreal, brah.  Unreal.

So, what’s next for you, m’man?  Another bit of sci-fi Logan’s Run-esque coolness like The Island?  Maybe another bit of stylized Lethal Weapon-ish buddy cop action like Bad Boys 2?  Or maybe even another Very Bad Things-style awkward black comedy crime flick like Pain & Gain?

Oh.  Transformers 4.  Well, it was fun while it lasted.  Brah.

Sincerely,

Brian A. Costello

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That’s it for now.  Later, ‘gator.

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