Author Archive | Jorge Ignacio Castillo

Leonardo Di Caprio has never interested me much as an actor. His inability to disappear in character bothers me. Di Caprio’s partnership with Martin Scorsese has introduced the greatest American director to the newer generations, but still has to deliver a classic (The Departed, you say? There are five better Scorsese-De Niro collaborations I could list).

That said, the first trailer for The Wolf of Wall Street looks awfully promising. Instead of a brainy drama (as most approach to the subject have been), The Wolf appears to be a portrait of undiluted debauchery, a mix of Caligula with… well, Wall Street. Jonah Hill and Matthew McConaughey are at hand for the proceedings and they seem genuinely unhinged.

If nothing else, The Wolf of Wall Street will become the first Martin Scorsese movie to feature midget-throwing. I want to see this now, alas, it won’t open until November 15th.

Superman doesn’t believe in home decoration.

After lagging far behind Marvel in the development of a film universe, DC Comics finally seems on track to do something similar. The Dark Knight trilogy provided the pattern: A serious, adult, even realistic approach to the notion of superhero. Given how good the Christopher Nolan movies turned out to be, Warner Brothers decided to try something similar with the other big ticket in the company’s roster: Mr. Red and Blue Tights, Krypton’s favorite son, Superman.

Man of Steel is serious alright. Far too serious. Director Zack Snyder and screenwriters David S. Goyer and Nolan himself go out of their way to find pathos in the ever reliable superhero. The movie is saddled with infinite debates about assimilation or keeping one’s distance, a dispute that provides Superman with oh-so-many acceptance issues.

As any good reboot, Man of Steel starts in Krypton. Thanks to the irresponsible exploitation of the planet’s core (environmental lesson alert!), the planet is about to go kaboom. Jor-El (Russell Crowe) gets his son Kal-El out of the solar system on time. Kal travels with the genetic codes of most Krypton bloodlines and the planet’s accumulated knowledge. The idea is for Krypton to be reborn on Earth by establishing a symbiotic relationship with mankind. Continue Reading →

After a long sojourn around Europe that revitalized him creatively, Woody Allen returns to the US with Blue Jasmine. The film, however, is only partially set in his beloved Manhattan. In fact, most of the action takes place in San Francisco, a brand new setting for the filmmaker.

Following a Madoff-like scandal, a spoiled British socialite (Cate Blanchett) finds herself without a penny or a roof over her head. Reluctantly, the woman lands at her sister’s (Sally Hawkins),  a down to earth immigrant living in a blue collar neighborhood. How blue-collar? Andrew “Dice” Clay is one of her neighbors. You read that correctly: Oscar winner Blanchett and “Dice” will be sharing screen time.

Based on the trailer alone, Blue Jasmine belongs next to Woody’s brainiest dramas, a la Husbands and Wives and Crimes and Misdemeanors. The film opens July 26th everywhere.

Hey, Ethan Hawke shaved for this movie!

The Purge is a fairly standard home invasion movie, down to the comely teenage daughter and the brainy younger kid: Strangers break into an obscenely big house, nuclear family strikes back (as seen in Straw Dogs, Desperate Hours, Funny Games and several Nicolas Cage movies). The most significant aspect of the film is the political context that frames the story.

The premise of the film refers to a morally reprehensible public policy: One night a year, the American government suspends all emergency services and the rule of law. The desired effect is the elimination of the non-contributing elements of society (shades of the Mitt Romney tape that cost him the election) at hands of the most productive members, i.e. the rich, who can afford weapons and security. Subtle, this movie ain’t.

The obvious ethical issues matter very little as “the purge” leads to unprecedented prosperity: Unemployment and crime rate hit all time lows, same as poverty. The destitute can barely defend themselves, so they are being exterminated.

The film explores issues as resentment and revenge as side-effects, but since The Purge is more concerned with thrilling the audience (it doesn’t) than develop the provocative thesis, the whole enterprise becomes an exercise in futility.

Considering the edgy approach, it’s somewhat surprising a major studio (Universal) is distributing The Purge. Sure, Michael Bay is producing, but with no explosions involved and given his track record with horror films (the awful reinventions of Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Friday the 13^th and The Hitcher), his name is no guarantee of quality.

Then again, has it ever been?

Two and a half prairie dogs, for effort.

There is no such thing as a magician’s supergroup.

Next to the nadir that is After Earth, the magician caper Now You See Me has started to look pretty good. Don’t be fooled: It is about as bad, if less pretentious.

Four entertainers -a mentalist, an illusionist, an escapist and a skilled thief- are compelled by a mysterious entity to put a show together. Cut to a year later: The foursome is staging spectacular robberies and the police can’t prove their responsibility (could it be… magic?). A preternaturally angry detective (Mark Ruffalo) and a laid back Interpol agent (Melanie Laurent) must anticipate the group next move, before another fat cat gets his bank account emptied.

Directed by the consistently terrible Louis Leterrier (Clash of the Titans), Now You See Me assumes that audiences and critical thinking are not acquainted (granted, he is not wrong). It plays like Ocean’s Eleven with a barely developed esoteric strain instead of Steven Soderbergh’s steady hand.

Of all the cheap twist and turns in Now You See Me, the weakest one is to turn the thieves into Robin Hoods of the digital era. Of course the police is off-the-charts incompetent: When a dead body is used for a trick, it still has the morgue’s tags attached and nobody notices. You may find more entertainment listing all the implausible events in the movie than from the torturous plot.

The likeable cast is given little to worth with. Jesse Eisenberg plays the leader of the group as Mark Zuckerberg in full jerk mode. He is the best of the bunch. The rest is flat as a cartoon, including veterans who should know better (namely, Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman). Ruffalo is particularly shaky, but the incoherence that plagues his character comes from a flawed script (from the guy who wrote Prince of Persia!).

Between this and The Incredible Burt Wonderstone I could use a ban on movies about magicians. There is a significant surprise towards the end that seems spectacularly inconsistent with the rest of the film. But I couldn’t be coerced to watch this horror a second time.

One and a half prairie dogs… puff… and now they are gone.

“But Dad, I don’t want to be a movie star!”
“Why can’t you be more like your sister?”

Even though director M. Night Shyamalan’s reputation is just a little better than Uwe Boll these days, the mediocrity of After Earth is not really his fault. Conceived as a starring vehicle for talent bereft Jaden Smith by his dad Will, the sci-fi flick is neither original nor effective.

A thousand years after Earth was deemed inevitable, a military spaceship crash-lands in the planet. The only survivors are the humorless general Cypher Raige (Will) and his courage-impaired son, Kitai (Jaden). Cypher’s is immobilized, so it’s up to Kitai to retrieve a signal whatchamacallit lost during the collision.

With mankind gone, Earth has thrived. Kitai must face all kinds of fierce creatures along with cold patches and toxic air. His only support is his dad, who can follow the action by video (hey, it’s the future).

The fairly simple storyline (going to point A to point B) is the only thing saving this film from oblivion. Smith Jr. is singularly inept as an actor. Somehow, he has managed to devolve from the “heights” of Karate Kid. Will is not much better, as his idea of being serious and stern is to lower his voice. He has an opportunity of stretch during a monologue about bravery, but all he manages is to put the audience to sleep.

Shyamalan’s first movie after the creative nadir of The Last Airbender, is a bit of a rebound (at least After Earth is not as unintelligible), but the days of The Sixth Sense and Unbreakable seem long gone. Seriously, scientologist just should give up trying to make movies: They are terrible at it.

One and a half underachieving prairie dogs.

Not in this movie: Christine McVie.

Music documentaries can be a dicey proposition, particularly when the subject is also involved with the production of the film: Unavoidably, the star in question will present itself under the best possible light. Given that conflict moves most narratives, without it inertia settles in.

That’s the case with Stevie Nicks: In Your Dreams, a somewhat dull look into the songwriting process. Directed by Nicks and the lesser half of Eurhythmics (Dave Stewart), the film details the making of her latest solo project. Stewart –also co-writer and co-producer of the record- is too enamored of the erstwhile Fleetwood Mac lead singer to dig too deep.

Musically speaking, “In Your Dreams” is a fairly solid effort, but it’s no “Rumours”. The film provides little insight regarding the creative process. At one point, Reese Witherspoon (don’t ask) comes with a clever little line –“cheaper than free”- that Nicks and Stewart turn into song overnight. Zero struggle. Considering half of the film unfolds in a recording studio, the Witherspoon episode qualifies as a “thrill”.

The doc destroys some of the mystique around Stevie. She finds inspiration in Twilight: New Moon for one of her ballads. Nicks comes out as bossy, detail oriented, but always right. Some of her stories are vaguely interesting, but the majority only matter to her and hardcore fans.

Mick Fleetwood and Lindsey Buckingham provide some solace when summoned to help with a couple of tracks. The equally minded but far superior doc Fleetwood Mac: Destiny Rules comes to mind, if only because Lindsey was capable of going toe-to-toe with Stevie. Dave Stewart just lies there. Two prairie dogs telling lies, telling sweet little lies.

Stevie Nicks: In Your Dreams is now playing at the RPL.

The Hangover foursome achieves the impossible: Makes Tijuana look dull.

Certain single words could define The Hangover Part III. “Greed” is one of them. “Laziness” is another one. This is a saga that shouldn’t exist to begin: The first film – the only half decent of the bunch- wasn’t supposed to start a franchise. It was a standalone story much like director Todd Phillips previous films (Old School, Road Trip). Only unchecked avarice could turn the paper-thin concept behind it into a trilogy.

After the pathetic Part II (which was beat-by-beat the same as Part I with a different setting), Phillips and co. put a little more effort for their third go-around. Gone are the bachelor party set-up, the noir-esque reconstruction of events and convicted rapist Mike Tyson (animal mistreatment is, however, very much present). The outcome is a complete bore, filled with people that couldn’t wait to get out of their contracts. Continue Reading →

Like Someone in Love opens this Thursday at the RPL.

One of the most fascinating auteurs at work today, Iranian filmmaker Abbas Kiarostami should be reason enough to prevent the US from ever bombing Teheran. After a remarkable run in his place of birth that included minimalist masterpieces Taste of Cherry and The Wind will Carry Us, Kiarostami not only ventured outside his zone of comfort, but also his native tongue and his country. The results couldn’t be any less than striking.

The Iranian wunderkind takes pleasure in destroying westerners’ notion of narrative. In the remarkable Certified Copy, an artistically inclined couple starts the day as strangers and by the end of it, they have been married for fifteen years, no explanation provided. Like Someone in Love is similarly packed with blind spots and remains fascinating.

Two lost souls in Tokio find each other at a low point. Young Akiko has landed in the prostitution business in order to pay for school. Grandma is waiting for her at the train station, but an utterly ashamed Akiko can’t bring herself to meet her (it’s painful to watch). Across the city, the elderly professor who has hired the girl mostly for company has problems of his own: He must fend a demanding would-be employer while keeping things polite.

They could be the answer to each other’s problems, but -as in real life- there is no such thing as a perfect match, especially when a third party (Akiko’s violent boyfriend) objects any possible arrangement.

Despite the sexual undertones, Like Someone in Love is a lot more wholesome than it sounds. These are lonely people who yearn for human connection but have forgotten how to establish one. Kiarostami pulls a fast one on the audience by holding on to most answers. He makes you work for them, which is why his movies become engraved in your memory.

Four prairie dogs out of their element.

After reaching notoriety thanks to his documentary Sharkwater, filmmaker/environmentalist Rob Stewart found his next subject while taking his movie around the world. In China, a student asked him about the point of trying to save the sharks in circumstances aquatic life is in dire jeopardy as well.

His response took the shape of Revolution (now playing at the Roxy in Saskatoon, coming soon to Regina), a documentary in which Stewart goes around the world visiting areas affected by climate change, deforestation and the most pressing threat, Ocean acidification. I talked to Rob recently about his movie. Even though he seems weary of talking about the subject, Stewart is not done trying to get his message to the people.

- While making the film, did you make an effort to separate your job as a filmmaker and your activism?

- There is no real difference to me. I’m making movies because I’m an activist. This is the way I believe I can change the world most profoundly. I’m not in it to make the greatest piece of art.

- Did you know where you were heading to, every step of the way?

- No. There were a lot of surprises. Canada’s involvement was a huge surprise (tar sands, withdrawal from Kyoto), the involvement of children in changing the world… We went from having giant budgets to small ones, so the movie changed quite a bit along the way. We made a US$ 5 million film for a million bucks.

- Revolution is a very optimistic film, but I failed to discover the reasons of this optimism.

- Every successful revolution worked because people knew where they needed to go. Right now, this is the first time we have the tools to tackle this problem: There is a billion people connected through Facebook, there is more technology in your phone than what got us to the moon, we have a million of conservation groups working for the same cause. Instead of fighting against corporations, we should be fighting for a brighter future, a world that works.

- Just as a filmmaker, how do you feel you have changed from Sharkwater to Revolution?

- Sharkwater was like film school for me. I never went to film school or operated a camera. I learned everything on the job. It taught me I could educate people to take better decisions and sent me on a career path.

- You have a number of roles in Revolution (director, writer, producer, editor). Which one would you hand off in a future project?

- I don’t think I’ll produce the next movie. This was too much for me. I would like someone else to focus on the business side while I worry about the creative side.

“Not a couch in sight to jump on.”

I don’t have anything against Tom Cruise.

Cruise could believe in a giant squid in the sky for all I care. The actor/producer has consistently put more care on his films than other stars of his caliber. Even his lesser efforts (Jack Reacher, Knight and Day) are, at least, frothy fun.

Lately, Cruise has attempted to move past the comfort of the Mission: Impossible saga. Oblivion fits in this effort, as he puts his clout at the service of a relative newcomer.

Oblivion is a visually stunning collage of better sci-fi films writer/director Joseph Kosinski hopes you haven’t seen. Following a nuclear war against a highly developed alien race, Earth has become a wasteland (also, the moon has been crushed). Most of mankind has relocated to Saturn, except for a few drone repairmen keeping pumps siphoning the planet’s last supplies.

Cruise is Jack Harper, one of the mechanics. Even though Harper had his memory wiped out in order to prevent aliens from accessing his mind in case of capture, the technician reminisces of a time he couldn’t possibly have lived. The crash landing of a NASA spaceship seems to indicate the official story is completely unreliable and Harper must reassess his position in the world.

Let me list the movies Joseph Kosinski borrows freely to build Oblivion: WALL-E (the lonely repairman), 2001 (the cold efficiency of machines), Alien (priorities), Independence Day (alien invasion, massive destruction variety), Battlestar Galactica (virtual truths), and Moon (the entire plot). Kosinski -who previously directed the equally vacuous Tron: Legacy- has talent, but needs to look for better material.

Tom Cruise tones down his trademark cockiness and almost becomes an everyman (can’t fully be one when you look like that at 50). It’s not a particularly challenging role, but Cruise makes it work and carries the movie when the plot fails to do so.

Oblivion another saving grace is the look. From the spaceships to the planet flattened by nukes, the cinematography by Claudio Miranda (Life of Pi) is a wonder. You may not care about the story, but the landscapes will keep you enthralled. Three prairie cockroaches.

One of these men will be playing an intergalactic swashbuckler in 2015.

Tackling a figure of the significance of Jackie Robinson and turn it into a two-hour movie is a task few filmmakers are well equipped to attempt. Brian Helgeland is not one of them. Better known as screenwriter than a director (L.A. Confidential, Mystic River, Robin Hood), Helgeland chooses a more traditional route to tell the story of the first African-American to join the Major League Baseball. The outcome is stiff at best, although Robinson’s story has enough oomph to make us forget the film shortcomings.

At least Helgeland is smart enough to focus on a single year of Jackie’s career as opposed to his entire life: 1947, his first season with the Brooklyn Dodgers. Thanks to the stubbornness of the team’s general manager Branch Rickey (Harrison Ford, chomping a cigar furiously), Jackie Robinson joins the MLB to the stupor of most players and audiences. Jackie “has the goods”, but his main asset is stoicism. Robinson must endure open hostility wherever he goes, including his own team’s locker room.

As good as relative newcomer Chadwick Boseman is, he is given little to work with. We don’t see a character, but a single-note icon. As played by Boseman, Jackie has two frames of mind: Endurance in the face of adversity and guarded happiness next to his wife. Not exactly textured. Instead of giving Robinson a character arch, Helgeland rather reenact the many iconic moments of Jackie’s first year as a pro.

The only time 42 hits a homerun (he he, pun) is in the scene that pits Robinson against the racist manager of the Phillies, Ben Chapman. As Jackie takes the plate, Chapman heckles him in the most offensive way imaginable. Robinson struggles to keep calm until one of his teammates crosses the field to confront the former outfielder. Alan Tudyk (of Firefly fame) kills it as the bigoted coach: He makes you want to hurt Chapman.

Baseball fans may find 42 too simple: We barely get a glimpse of Jackie Robinson’s skills (other than his penchant for stealing base, little else is showcased). The film mostly works as an introduction to the man, but to understand his legacy, check out Ken Burns’ phenomenal documentary series Baseball. Even better, read “Baseball’s Great Experiment” by Jules Tygiel.