Monday, June 4, 2012

DARK SHADOWS (2012)



Ah, yes.  Johnny.  There you are old chap.  Back in the eclectic seat.  No Brit accent this time?


Well I laughed and I probably laughed out louder than the others.  (Nothing to do with earlier libations.)  Dark Shadows was funny.  And crazy.  And odd.  But funny.  Anything that puts McDonalds and Mephistopheles in the same sentence is a good time for this lady.

So what is it about anyway?  It's about a vampire called Barnabas Collins, once heir to a fortune, born in the 18th century, but then cursed into immortality and buried for eons by a scorned, witchy lover (Eva Green).  Accidentally set free from his tomb, Barnabas rises, seeks his home and becomes intent on restoring the Collins name and fishing business to its former glory.  Unfortunately, his bloodline has trickled down to two lifeless, cynical siblings (Michelle Pfeifer/Johnny Lee Miller), and their respective daughter and son.  Some alcoholic doctor (Helena Bonham Carter) lives with them, hired to help the son deal with the loss of his mother.  An au pair hired in addition, seems Barnabas' dead wife incarnate.  They fall in love.  Witchy lover, still very much alive and thriving and pining for Barnabas, plays nemesis.  Love and karma prevail.  Immortal love is found, albeit morbidly.  It all happens in the 1970s.

Groovy.

Another John Christopher Depp and Tim Burton collaboration that is another predictable success.  Boo.  Look,  I like the film.  Yes I enjoyed it.  It's entertaining.  It's not the film.  The film adequately delivers.  I'm probably just expecting more from Johnny Depp, and maybe, dare I say it, something new from Tim Burton?

I'm the first person to vote for the weird.  I could possibly be the very, very, very last synonym in your thesaurus.  Eclecticism?  Sign me up.  Wrap three scarves around my neck, pop the silver teeth into my mouth, put me in a chic Bhikku and braid peacock feathers into my hair.  HOWEVER, I'm also the first person to vote for change.  Too much of the ying gives me a pang.  Say whaaat?  (See?  Weird.)

Dear Mr. Depp,
  I can't believe I haven't written you yet.  So maybe recent straight characters haven't done well for you.  The Tourist?  Atrocious!  But as much as I love you with the accents and the costumes I'd like to see you without them.  I'd like to see what you could do with a haircut and a shower.  I can be harsh because I loved.  And tell Tim he's my inspiration, one of my three director crushes and if I worked with him on anything in my lifetime it would be an honour but tell him we might like to see different actors?  Different muses?  Maybe something without you or his wife?
Yours, Possibly?

The verdict goes like this:  Good acting.  Smart script.  Funny.  Fun.  Decent way to spend your money.  Sure, see Dark Shadows.  You'll laugh.  After all Johnny knows how to make us do that doesn't he?  Am I right ladies?  And by laugh I mean...






I'm just kidding.







ABSENCE APOLOGY. WORKING ON BOOK. NOT A GOOD EXCUSE? SORRY.

 

Monday, January 30, 2012

THE HELP (2011)

Another film not seen in the cinema.   

Rave reviews were rightfully appropriated for The Help.  Such a spectacular effort from the entire cast and what a delight it is that the cast is almost entirely women.  

The Help is the story of black women working as maids for a still very racist community in 60's Mississippi .  (Most reviews describe the film as a story about a young white woman and her relationship with the maids.)  Skeeter Phelan (Emma Stone), an aspiring author and vastly different from her white counterparts, decides to write a book about the help.  A friend's maid Abileen (Viola Davis) makes the risky decision to offer Skeeter the material she needs.  Abileen has lived a hard life and suffers the pain of her son's suspicious death on a white man's farm.   Abileen inspires other maids, including her best friend Minny (Octavia Spencer), to share their stories with Skeeter.  The stories are many things.  They're sad, they're funny and they’re infuriating, mostly sad and infuriating.  The book gets published to the furor of some but the delight of many.  The film's conclusion is vastly different from its beginning with many of the women making drastic changes.  Abileen, who is quite the centre of the film, makes the decision to leave the family she works for, a bittersweet decision because of her attachment to the little girl.  On to brighter things we truly hope.

Each and every performance in The Help is exceptional.  Bryce Dallas Howard, playing the film's lead antagonist, does a phenomenal job as a Bleep.  Emma Stone of course does her part justice.  Viola Davis is always effective at stirring emotion.  Octavia Spencer, as the film's most memorable character, is more than entertaining.  Personal favorite was Jessica Chastain's Celia Foote.

The picture is beautifully done and the story is not only relayed tastefully but also effectively.  Some reviews allowed for discourse on the matter of a white woman being the pioneer for the stories of oppressed black women.  All well and good for the college courses but does it really matter who wrote the book?  And it so happened and happens that way sometimes across the spectrum, whether it's white for black, men for women, the West for the Rest.  Not all of the formers oppressed the latters.

It's always appreciated when a film comes along that gives a glimpse of history when times weren't nice at all.  It's uncomfortable but it's helpful (not intended).  

See The Help because it's a good movie, plain and simple.  It has a few nominations for the upcoming Oscars so if you care for the awards you might want to see why.

Aside:
Can we stop criticizing the Academy Awards for being self-congratulatory?  Aren't most award ceremonies?  And what's wrong with congratulating yourself anyway?  And no I don't care that some actors I actually really like don't care to attend.  Personally, I won't turn down free champagne and the opportunity to observe the acting animal.  Call them pretentious, call them ridiculously extravagant, call them inconvenient but don't call them self-congratulatory.  It goes without saying.