MONDOmagazine

Slumdog Millionaire
Directed by Danny Boyle and Loveleen Tandan
Celador Films, 2008

By David Hollands

When a film garners as much critical praise as Slumdog Millionaire has, one assumes watching the movie will be like witnessing the second coming of Christ. When I heard the praise growing, I didn’t join in the chorus; Slumdog Millionaire is directed by Danny Boyle, one of the most overrated filmmakers of all time.

I didn't say Slumdog was bigger than Jesus, or better than Jesus...

The story? Jamal Malik, a young man born and raised in the slums of Mumbai, becomes a contestant on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? in the hopes that the love of his life, Latika, will be watching him. Jamal manages to answer every question correctly, prompting security to suspect that he’s cheating. In police custody, Jamal reveals how he knew the answers: each answer relates to specific moments in his life, which — you guessed it — the audience gets to watch in flashback.

Therein lies a major problem: Slumdog Millionaire is a structural mess. Every time Jamal answers a question, the audience is whisked back to the corresponding life event. Only a few of the flashbacks are devoted to moving the story forward. Most serve the function of explaining in utterly contrived fashion how Jamal knew the answers. Jamal and his brother develop an animosity toward each other, and Jamal meets Latika, which is certainly important story-wise. For a good hour or so, however, the characters don’t develop! In fact, Jamal NEVER develops. His arc is incredibly limited, and a drag to experience. Jamal’s brother Salim should have been the protagonist; his arc of corruption and eventual redemption is the more interesting story.

Another problem: Slumdog Millionaire has a disastrous moral cop-out as its conclusion. (Those bothered by spoilers should steer clear.) To absolutely no one’s surprise, Jamal is one question away from the grand prize. Preceding this moment, money and greed are treated in the film as the roots of all evil. Jamal is not interested in money, only in being with Latika. Fine… but then why is the film’s climax constructed around whether or not Jamal will get the money? Is money suddenly not evil because the “good” characters have it now? If Slumdog Millionaire had any balls whatsoever, Jamal would not have won. His love for Latika should have been enough. The movie’s message is mixed, to say the least.

How about the theme? Here it is: destiny. That’s. It. Seriously! The movie had me sitting through all sorts of annoying visual and aural razzamatazz for two hours, and all it had to say is that our lives are controlled by destiny? Bullshit. Boring and uninteresting bullshit, no less.

As for Mr. Boyle’s much-lauded direction, it seems he is perfectly content with shaking and tilting his camera all over the place, no matter what the scene. A single shot hardly ever lasts on the screen for more than two seconds. That’s. Annoying. Mr. Artiste Boyle also seems to think his audience is composed of complete morons. During the last act, there were flashbacks to scenes and moments that had played not five minutes earlier! At one point, our genius director cuts to a shot of Latika when Jamal speaks of her, just in case we dullards had forgotten who she was.

All you need is love. But 20 million rupees never hurt anyone.

More of the bad: a loud, constantly blaring soundtrack that almost made me go deaf; the crappiest cinematography in ages (digitally manipulated straight to hell — seriously, the movie looks like neon vomit); and let’s not forget the egregious dance number that closes the film. What is that even doing in a movie that features child mutilation, child prostitution, murder, and torture? It frightens me that the violence, while pretty visceral and disturbing in some moments, ultimately becomes pretty lightweight and unimportant by the film’s conclusion. That lacks maturity. I think it’s disgusting to feature such violence in a film that’s ultimately a dopey and lighthearted romance.

Some good stuff: an amazing musical score, great performances, and the knowledge that it will all be over at some point.

In a wonderful year for cinema that saw so many amazing, challenging films, the fact that this one seems to be the biggest critical darling is disturbing on a level even I cannot imagine. If this boring, predictable, clichéd, and truly dumb movie wins Best Picture, cinema will be in great danger of losing its soul.

Rambo

Directed by Sylvester Stallone
Lionsgate, 2008

By David Hollands

Sylvester Stallone’s pushing at least a hundred by now. Yet for a senior citizen, he hasn’t lost any of his strength, courage, or machismo. Rocky Balboa demonstrated a fine end to the Rocky series, and surprisingly great writing and directing from Stallone. Rocky went out in style. You know what? John Rambo does too.

I should get the biggest flaws out of the way before I begin my waterfall of praise. The writing is pretty bad. Dialogue is forced, though to tell you the truth, it’s mostly the other characters’. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t come off well because of some truly awful acting from the supporting players. Rambo remains safe from this though, mostly because he says very little (and the fact that he mumbles, so I hardly understood anything he said anyway).

Also, the running time’s pretty brief. Other Rambo adventures clocked in at about two hours, while this one delivers everything in ninety-five minutes. There’s lots of action, but character is shortchanged. For example, while it’s clear why Rambo chooses to once again don the bow and arrow and do some serious killing, the amount of screen time it takes him to come to that decision is hardly enough. I just didn’t believe it. Why is that important in this kind of action flick? Because it’s a message film, a movie that takes itself very seriously.

Now that that’s out of the way…

Rambo kicked so much ass! The story? Rambo leads a group of Christian missionaries into a Burmese village. On a mission of peace and thus without weapons, the missionaries are easily captured by Burmese soldiers. Long story short, Rambo proceeds to blow things up but good!

Violence has always been a staple of the Rambo series, though it has never been taken to this extreme. Bodies are eviscerated, shredded, blown up, crushed, disemboweled, and decapitated in the grisly, gory detail of a Monty Python sketch. Surprisingly, Stallone never makes this violence seem too sensationalistic. The violence conveys an admittedly simplistic message concerning the horrors of war and genocide, though one that is still pretty hard-hitting. The gore seems absolutely necessary – well, except in one instance. Stallone succumbs to having a head bad guy killed, when before there really was no main antagonist, simply soldiers. I really liked that small shift from convention, so I was a bit disappointed when an inevitable confrontation occurred with the usual swell of patriotic music.

Rambo’s a really dark film, not quite “fun” in the way you’d expect. It’s entertaining as Hell, though it somehow never feels exploitative. I really can’t describe it, especially since I typically dislike films that present themselves as mindless action fun but then go about their business in grim, unpleasant, and horrendously bloody fashion. Rambo walks a really thin tightrope in this regard, and yet Stallone somehow keeps the film perfectly balanced on it. You’ll have fun, I promise – just be prepared to be kicked hard in the gut.

Sly directs with a sure hand. The action is, as per the norm these days, presented in all out shaky-cam madness. Yet Stallone never allows things to become confusing. It’s intense and incredibly visceral action storytelling, yet it remains comprehensible at the same time. Not a small feat to pull off in Shaky-Cam World.

Brian Tyler’s musical score is amazing, intense, and even melodically beautiful. Adapting Jerry Goldsmith’s wonderful theme from First Blood, Tyler creates music that transports the audience completely into Rambo’s world. In the action scenes, the music never allows us to breath for even a second. We never grow bored with the constant onslaught of sound, since it’s so well composed and conducted.

In the end, Rambo marks a great return to form for an 80s icon. Stallone proves he still has it playing one of the ultimate American icons. If this is indeed the last Rambo film, I’ll be very happy; Rambo’s gone out guns blazing, still raging (and mumbling) against the “dying of the light.”

See it. I highly doubt you’ll be disappointed.

Transformers
Directed by Michael Bay
DreamWorks SKG and Paramount Pictures, 2007

By David Hollands

Even the smelliest piece of crap must have positive attributes, right? Yes. In Transformers, they are the musical score by Steve Jablonsky, some good performances, and fantastic special effects.

The story? Sam (it-boy Shia LaBoeuf) buys a car to impress an object, er, a girl. The car is an Autobot. More Autobots arrive. Comedy ensues. Decepticons make an appearance; final battle occurs.

Essentially, there’s an action scene that’s sort of fun, and ninety minutes of stupid comedy. Sam’s car trying to help him get laid? Hilarious! An Autobot calling Sam and his girl little bitches? You’ll bust a gut! An Autobot urinating on a government agent? Blew my hair sideways, it was so funny! Director Michael Bay’s sense of humour is below sitcom level. Yet sadly, he forces contrived humour into every scene; where it seldom belongs. It’s also usually illogical. When the Autobots hide outside Sam’s house to evade his parents, you won’t laugh. Instead, you’ll realize all they had to do was move farther back down the street, in disguise and appropriately distanced from each other. What worsens things is that Bay will stop the story progression with these scenes that only a three-year old would ingenuously find amusing.

But what of the action scenes? What of the final battle? Much screen time is devoted to establishing the Autobots. It’s boring, but at least they become distinguishable. However, the Decepticons are in their disguises for most of the movie. The final battle is underway when their true selves are revealed. This gives the action a weightless feel, since each Decepticon isn’t established properly. The best action films have antagonists set up early on with a certain quirk or skill, something that would give them the upper hand against the hero. When the protagonist manages to overcome the villain despite being outmatched, it’s satisfying since we were curious as to how that could be accomplished. By short-changing the Decepticons, there’s no suspense or drama when they end up fighting the Autobots. Both groups seem equally matched as far as we can tell. If they aren’t, Bay never clarifies.

I giggled frequently at Bay’s attempts at being artsy (tilting the camera needlessly, employing ridiculous close-ups of the actors, strange slow motion, and Saw-like flash edits, etc.). But I wasn’t too amused at how I frequently had to squint to prevent blindness. Someone set the contrast on this puppy far too high. The colour palette looks a lot like vomit: all of fluorescent blues and greens mixed inappropriately. Even scenes in daylight are bothersome. Shadows are usually deep and sunlight shines blooming white on actors and objects. And the editing? Let’s just say I haven’t seen this many continuity errors since Titanic.

Ideologically, Transformers is a nightmare. Typical of a Bay film, women are only given the opportunity to be hot and/or bitchy. Whenever a woman is in a position of power, Bay makes sure she isn’t too threatening to the men. Either those women will be dropped from the story all together, given almost nothing to do, or they’ll be smokin’ hot! And in terms of racism, there’s the following: Autobot Jazz is portrayed as a stereotypical black guy. He flashes gang signs and busts out in hip hop moves. He’s also the most incompetent Autobot in battle, and the only Autobot who kicks the can. His eulogy lasts about five seconds. But he’s just a robot, right? Yeah, and Jar Jar Binks was speaking Gunganese, not Jamaican.

You may cry out that this is just entertainment. No. Film is an art form, a communicator of ideologies and ideas to the masses, not a simple commercial product. If you truly believe that it is, I suppose you deserve to watch a movie that perfectly matches your IQ.

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
Directed by David Yates
Warner Brothers, 2007

By David Hollands

Harry Potter’s suffered a lot, and not just in terms of facing the same enemy repeatedly – Potter must also contend with horrible film adaptations. There has only been one great entry in this franchise, and even that one was marred by bad special effects. But something amazing has happened: the Potter franchise has its first masterpiece.

In Order of the Phoenix, Harry is frustrated. After last squaring off against Lord Voldemort, Harry’s still experiencing unwanted paternalism. There are signs that Voldemort is building an army. The stubborn head of the Ministry of Magic, that which governs the world of Wizards, refuses to acknowledge them. Harry is plagued by nightmares in which it seems as if he is Voldemort committing heinous acts. And Hogwarts, the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that Harry attends, is taken over by a Ministry-appointed headmistress whose job is to make sure the students remain in a constant state of ignorance and bliss.

Screenwriter Michael Goldenberg and director David Yates do well in removing the flab found in the novel. This adaptation is lean and mean. Considering how much is cut from the novel, it is surprising that the movie never feels rushed. Key moments are given the proper amount of time to develop. That’s good, since what’s here is beautiful: Harry’s first kiss under a blossoming mistletoe, tragedies shared between Harry and a psychologically damaged girl, and the revelation that Harry’s father may not entirely deserve his son’s praise, to name a few.

This is easily the most fascinating of Potter’s adventures. Sometimes the line between good and evil becomes blurred, since there’s ultimately so little separating those two extremes. The filmmakers hypothesize that one thing separates good people from bad, and if a person doesn’t realize this idea, then he or she is no better than the antagonists. To drive this home, it is shown that Harry comes dangerously close to that dark side. It’s a brave moment, and the film’s best and most frightening scene.

Also, the satire is razor sharp. Following Ministry of Magic guidelines, the new Headmistress attempts to convince students that there is no danger in our world and that students would not require skills outside of those taught in controlled environments. This ideology rings unfortunately true these days – just look at how children’s entertainment has been sanitized to the point of embarrassment, to demonstrate but one example. If we’re only taught to be ignorant, how can we understand, recognize, and combat evil? How will we be able to recognize evil in ourselves?

The acting is the best of the series. Daniel Radcliffe is excellent; his Harry Potter has a tragic world-weariness that feels real and appropriate. Emma Watson is fantastic, her Hermione Granger somehow even more adorable than in previous entries. Even Rupert Grint is great as Ron Weasley, a miracle considering he’s an abysmal actor. Ralph Fiennes channels his Amon Goeth from Schindler’s List, creating the most terrifying incarnation of Voldemort we’ve yet seen. The supporting players, including a stunning Michael Gambon as former Hogwarts Headmaster Dumbledore, are living examples of perfect casting.

David Yates blesses the proceedings with a gritty feel. Duels are shot handheld, giving the set pieces a sense of urgency and weight. The cinematography by Slawomir Idziak bathes this wonderland in darkness; not a shot goes by that doesn’t contain a shadow or intense film grain. This world looks dirty, and with good reason. The filmmakers are content with scaring the daylights out of the younger audience members. Yates holds back none of the punches, though the violence and terror are never without purpose. It’s a necessity in this film, and there’s something sad about that, that its presence somehow feels absolutely right in what should be a child’s paradise. It’s the world we live in now, it’s the world we’ve always lived in, and it’s about time modern children’s entertainment had the guts to deal with it head-on.

Live Free or Die Hard
Directed by Len Wiseman
Twentieth Century Fox, 2007

By David Hollands

Some time ago, I read a phrase that would haunt me for months. It went something like this: “Live Free or Die Hard, rated PG-13.” After three entries in a franchise that guaranteed deliciously brutal violence, would a watered down Die Hard still be worthy of the title? Absolutely. This film rocks. It is paced, written, directed, and acted almost perfectly.

John McClane is called on to arrest a computer hacker named Matt Farrell, suspected of infiltrating the Pentagon’s system. Soon after McClane arrives at his door, armed assassins make an attempt on Matt’s life. Mr. Farrell was unknowingly a cog in a machine designed to cripple the United States in cyberspace. Terrorists now hold the country hostage, and it’s up to John McClane and Matt to save the day.

The spectacle begins five minutes in, and every ten minutes there’s a new set piece. Surprisingly, this avoids tedium since the moments in between offer the audience a breather. Also, the filmmakers are able to create sympathy for the protagonists. Matt, for example, could have easily dissolved into a wisecracking annoyance, but actor Justin Long prevents that. Matt has a good heart and a flaw to overcome: his cowardice. How he accomplishes that is one of the halcyon surprises in the film. McClane’s daughter is hardly the terrified female victim one finds in action flicks. If there’s ever fear in her eyes, it’s for her father’s safety, and Mary Elizabeth Winstead’s performance helps this greatly. McClane now goes about his action-packed business with extreme weariness. The world has passed him, though his character still plows on even after experiencing so much crap. For him, it’s for the good of the citizens of his country. Frankly, that brings a tear to my eye.

The action sequences are edited into oblivion, though coherence is never sacrificed. Each cut, each shot, and each camera movement deliver a maximum visceral impact. While most of the set pieces are hardly realistic, the filmmakers still achieve a realistic feel; the impossible is made plausible because there is always consequence in this world. Anyone would be killed if put through what McClane has to endure; the fact that pain is present keeps the spectator involved. Plus, the set pieces themselves are jaw dropping. Every one of them, achieved through a combination of practical stunt work and seamless CGI, makes up any action fan’s wet dream.

There is a weakness though: head antagonist Gabriel, played by Deadwood’s Timothy Olyphant, never reaches the standards set by Alan Rickman’s Hans Gruber. Gabriel is more of a wimp than any of the antagonists in the franchise. He’s like an emo kid with a mean streak, i.e. hardly menacing. His inevitable end is unsatisfying as well, especially after so many showstoppers.

But don’t let that detract you. This is easily the most fun you’ll have at the movies all summer. Do yourself a favour and make sure this franchise gets the love it deserves. Yippee Ka Yay.

Dead Silence
Directed by James Wan
Universal Studios, 2007

By David Hollands

James Wan is responsible for the cinematic abortion that was Saw. So was Mr. Leigh Whannell, the writer of Saw. Both men are also responsible for Dead Silence. Saw attempted to be an overly-serious, David Fincher-esque thriller but was so ludicrously executed it failed. Here, however, Wan and Whannell seem to want the audience to have fun with the material. The result is, surprisingly, much more of a treat to watch. The director and writer seem to realize that their premise is ridiculous, creating a funhouse experience for the audience. One in which it is actually good to laugh at the big jump scares and pseudo-terrifying moments.

The story is so simple — you could write the entire movie, with dialogue, on your palm — Jamie Ashen (Ryan Kwanten) and his wife Lisa (Laura Regan) are enjoying a pleasant evening together when a mysterious package arrives on their doorstep. Inside the package is a ventriloquist’s dummy — one that apparently brutally murders Lisa when Jamie leaves the apartment. Pursued by Det. Lipton (the manly Donnie Wahlberg), who believes the poor protagonist is responsible for the killing, Jamie returns to his old hometown of Raven’s Fair to plan his wife’s funeral and also to solve the mystery of her death — what a romantic. Many ghostly encounters and intentionally hilarious moving dummy moments follow.

There are many admirable qualities to Dead Silence. James Wan directs with a wonderful visual sense and a keen knowledge for staging the various set pieces in the film. Cinematographer John Leonetti has created a shadow-filled wonderland that works its magic on an audience member’s nerves. Charlie Clouser contributes a moody and effective musical score that is best described as 1950s style horror movie music filtered through modern synthesizers. The biggest surprise is the believable script because — as I said before — Leigh Whannell also wrote Saw. And the whole “I can easily kick the dummy away” trap is avoided by having the demonic wood carvings be a conduit for a much more destructive force. Of course the great performances of Kwaten and Wahlberg helped matters.

Dead Silence most likely won’t set your world on fire. The only substance found in a film involving a female monster that steals tongues is — at best — an unintentionally clever comment on the remaining seeds of the “women should be seen and not heard” crap that remains in our patriarchal society; especially so considering the single female victim versus the festering kill pile of macho men or men with dead or mentally unstable wives. If you’re looking for a fun and breezy time at the movies, you really can’t go wrong with Dead Silence.