Zach and Miri Make a Porno

I understand what Kevin Smith was trying to do here, I think. He wanted to combine a raunchy, "R"-rated porn farce with a sweet romantic comedy. The problem is, certain things shouldn't be mixed together. Tequila and Dr. Pepper. Britney Spears and clipping shears. Raider fans and fire. Add Zach and Miri Make a Porno to the "failed experiments" list.

The first 45 minutes or so work well enough. I especially enjoyed the scene at their high school reunion where Superman and the Mac are gay lovers. There's the usual plethora of Kevin Smith dick jokes; the Star Wars porno they're making actually looks hilarious.

The film goes off the rails when it shifts from crass to cheesy. Zach and Miri must consummate their up-until-now platonic relationship on film. It's not romantic. It's gross. It made me legitimately uncomfortable. Such an intimate moment should not occur on film. Porn is voyeuristic by nature; actual "lovemaking" between two people who are just now discovering their love for each other should not take place in front of a cadre of onlookers, with the camera rolling. The whole thing is icky.

The scene doesn't work on a romantic level, nor does it work on a risque, pushing-the-boundaries level. It would've at least been daring had Seth Rogen and Elizabeth Banks bared all for their scene, as one would expect in a porno movie. Instead, they keep their clothes on and leave the nudity for porn veteran Katie Morgan and a tattooed, pierced Jason Mewes.

It becomes a completely different film at this point, basically a re-tread of When Harry Met Sally. The edgy, bawdy movie I'd been enjoying was gone, replaced by a predictable romantic comedy.

Kevin Smith is still looking for that elusive mainstream success, but hopefully he learned that Boogie Nights+Jersey Girl = box office poison.

Nolanometer Final Grade: C

2007: No Country for Old Men vs. There Will Be Blood

The good news is that a film worthy of Best Picture won this year. The bad news is that a better film didn't.

I have little against No Country for Old Men, only a couple minor quibbles. I didn't care for the way Josh Brolin's character would talk to himself in order to serve as a narrator. I also didn't like the shift in point of view when Brolin is killed. We'd been through so much with the guy, but his end is shown through the secondhand, too-little-too-late eyes of Tommy Lee Jones' sheriff. I just felt like the viewer gets cheated by the anti-climax.

I also had to google the meaning of Jones' description of his dream that abruptly ends the film. After reading some theories, I found one that makes sense for me. I regard the fact that a film doesn't give an easy answer and makes you reflect as a good thing, which I know puts me at odds with much of the American movie-going public. Don't worry; I'll blog about Paul Blart: Mall Cop tomorrow to make up for it.

No Country for Old Men is a great movie. However, There Will Be Blood is a classic, or at least will be regarded as such one day. Full disclosure: I have a sizable man crush on Daniel Day-Lewis that renders my opinion completely unobjective.

Still, There Will Be Blood strikes me as one of those films where every single shot is meticulously planned out. Paul Thomas Anderson's vision is poetic, even when its themes are ugly.

As I've stated before, the goal with any Best Picture winner should be to fast-forward ten years and figure out the one that will best stand the test of time. That usually means a film that's not just entertaining and well-done, but one that's also about something. The bigger the idea, the better. No Country uses Jones' character to act as a meditation on how violent the world is becoming, leaving behind those who yearn for a simpler time (that may not even have existed in the first place).

Blood's ambition is much more grandiose. It aims at the core of America itself, the idea of win-at-all-costs capitalism. Daniel Plainview (even the name's meaningful) is the ultimate embodiment of that spirit, and he is a monster, morally corrupt and devoid of any emotion except the will to crush his competitors. He's an oilman because it works well visually and a metaphor for the "blood" that he values, rather than his own human relations, but the character could've just as well been any captain of industry.

It is an indictment of one of America's most deeply-held values; thus, it's a film that makes many uncomfortable. It's certainly not as accessible as No Country, which likely ultimately cost it the Oscar. Nevertheless, There Will Be Blood will be the film taught in college classes decades from now, and it won't be limited to film theory.

Nolanometer Final Grades:

No Country for Old Men: A-
There Will Be Blood: A

Taken

To paraphrase Lance, you're not necessarily stupid if you liked this movie, but this movie was made for stupid people.

Sadly, this explains how it made so much money; it cynically targets our most base instincts. Just look at the poster; everything you need to know is right there. People want to identify with a guy who becomes an unstoppable killing machine in order to rescue his lost daughter. It's the perfect outlet for the rage we would feel in that situation. But why does the rest of the film have to be so mindless?

I can't remember all the points in the film that struck me as being ridiculous, but I do recall writing something on facebook to the effect of "Taken has plot holes big enough to drive a Hummer through, which is exactly the vehicle fans of this movie wish they could afford." I know one scene that bothered me is when he has the bad guy's voice on recording and somehow gets the right guy to say it, even though there are several men in the room.

I didn't even find the myriad action sequences all that enjoyable. Liam Neeson's enraged father beats the crap out of everyone who crosses his path. None of it's terribly inventive, and it happens over and over again. Lather, rinse, repeat.

There's also an underlying message to Taken that's insidious and irresponsible, especially in light of how xenophobic America has become: Europe is a scary place.

You can get kidnapped out of an upper-middle class neighborhood in Paris in the middle of the day because you flirted with a guy at the airport. It will be Albanians who do it, and you don't know where Albania is, but you're sure it's in Europe somewhere, and therefore evil. There's this huge sex slave trade network, and they don't care whom they steal, from whatever country. In fact, it's a bonus if you're an American. Oh, and just in case you're expecting the French government to help you (especially when your dad is friends with a higher-up), forget about it. They're in cahoots with the bad guys. Because they're French, and therefore evil.

Of course, anyone who's ever been to Europe could tell you this is ridiculous, that you're a lot more likely to encounter violence here at home. But I'm afraid that for a lot of the unwashed masses, this will only confirm their suspicions about traveling abroad. We just lived through eight nightmarish years under a yokel who never bothered with Europe until he was elected president, even though he was rich, and his father at one time was ambassador to the United Nations. I'll bet people who voted for Bush love this movie. As well as teenagers, of course.

All of this seems odd when juxtaposed with the fact that the film's star is an Irishman. Paradoxically, Neeson is the only thing I really like about the movie, yet I'm a bit disappointed in him for participating in such a vapid exercise. I understand everyone needs to get paid sometime, but even Love, Actually had more brains than this.

Nolanometer Final Grade: D+

Some Like it Hot

A few years back, I decided to try and watch all of the AFI's top 100 movies. I may never finish, as there are some I'm just not looking forward to seeing (Your ears are burning, Jazz Singer).

Sometimes, I don't see what all the fuss is about (A Streetcar Named Desire, The Manchurian Candidate). Other times, I like the film well enough, but its greatness doesn't connect with me, for whatever reason (The Maltese Falcon, Rear Window). Then there are those that I watch and say, "Yep. This is a classic. Even if it's hella old and in black and white, it's awesome." Casablanca and On the Waterfront are good examples.

Well, add Some Like it Hot to that last category. In a word, it's delightful. Comedy doesn't usually hold up as well across generations, but even watching it alone, I found myself lol'ing. One of the great things about watching these flicks is finally getting all the cultural allusions that have sprung from them. I mean, without this film, there's probably no Bosom Buddies! I never knew where that "I Wanna Be Loved By You" song with the "Boo-boo-be-do" line came from. It was also largely filmed at a locale where I've actually been, the Hotel Del on Coronado Island in San Diego.

Jack Lemmon and Jamie Leigh Curtis' dad are hilarious as cross-dressing musicians on the run from the mob. I especially enjoyed Curtis' husky woman voice and Lemmon's screwy facial gesticulations.

Then there's Marilyn. To be honest, I never completely got the appeal before. I'd never seen one of her movies, just a bunch of still shots (yeah, you know the ones I mean) and newsreel footage. Well, I get it now. She's sexy as hell. I can't say that she's much of an actress (her lip-synching is so off that I assumed that wasn't really her singing those songs until I looked it up), but who cares? Apparently, there was quite an uproar when the film was released (the Catholic League rated it "C" for "Condemned"), and I can see why. Even though it's just kissing, Marilyn simply oozes sex.

Then there are the not-so-subtle homosexual themes. Lemmon's character dreams of running away with an effete millionaire. The two make quite a couple, even if Curtis tries to reason with him, "What would a guy want to marry another guy for?" Ah, the innocence of 1959. Then there's the film's closing line: "Well, nobody's perfect!" I'll leave the context out to avoid spoilers, but it's funny, trust me.

Nolanometer Final Grade: A-

Young Guns I and II

When I was growing up, I just didn't "get" westerns. All those grainy John Wayne cowboys and Indians flicks never grabbed me, and the slower-paced Clint Eastwood spaghetti westerns tried my pubescent patience. In 1988, when I was 12, Young Guns was released. I suddenly liked westerns.

Despite its "R" rating, Young Guns was clearly a rock n' roll western; it was meant to appeal to teenagers. Not just the boys, either. The six leads were all eye candy to varying degrees, with Kiefer Sutherland being probably the most drool-worthy at the time.

I loved this movie. It was violent, it was cool, it had catchphrases ("Yoo-hoo! I'll make ya famous"). Sure, it was a bit over-the-top, but so was the ending of The Wild Bunch, and that's considered a classic. It also had one of the more shocking early death scenes of any film I can remember, killing off biggest-star-at-the-time Charley Sheen's character barely halfway through the film.

The thing is, I grew out of a lot of films that I loved as a teenager, or at least I saw the silliness in them as I got older. Not so for Young Guns and Young Guns II. I still love them in exactly the same way I did in my adolescence.

The films are ostensibly about Billy the Kid, but what's really appealing about them is the simplicity of their message: "Pals." It's about a group of guys who stick together no matter what, led by Emilio Estevez in his career-defining performance as William H. Bonney (a.k.a. Billy the Kid). Billy sometimes wields the group's bond like a club as he pressures them to act in an increasingly reckless manner, but he is a fiercely loyal friend at his core.

The sequel is better than it has any right to be, taking the remaining "regulators," now on the run for their lives, and introducing William Petersen as Billy's eventual murderer Pat Garrett, who betrays his former friend. Did Pat Garrett really run with The Kid's gang before he took the money to hunt him down? I don't know, and I don't care. The Young Guns movies should not be seen as Billy the Kid biopics. The relationship in the film is much more interesting that way, so it's fine by me. Sometimes I think I even like Young Guns 2 more than the original.

Young Guns runs at 40% on the tomatometer, with Young Guns II at 38%. That's about what I'd expect. Here's the thing, though: I've never met anyone who disliked these movies. Sure, they're not high art, but they are incredibly fun. I'm willing to bet they turned plenty of kids from my generation on to westerns as well.

Nolanometer Final Grades:

Young Guns: B+
Young Guns II: B+

This song remains my favorite "written explicitly for the movie" song of all time.

Sleepaway Camp 2: Unhappy Campers

I have zero time tonight, so this will have to be a short one. This relatively unknown cult classic will appeal to you if:

1. You like horror films with creative/disgusting death sequences. My favorite is when Angela, the killer camp counselor, drowns a camper in an outhouse by using a larger branch to submerge the unlucky victim's head beneath the muck. Classic.

2. You like gratuitous nudity. Lots and lots of it. You're sold already, aren't you?

3. You like the 80's. The perms, mullets, and short shorts.

4. You like happy, yet oddly creepy camping songs that get stuck in your head for days. "Oooooohhhh, I'm a happy camper! I love the summer sun. I love the trees and forest; I'm always having fun!"

5. You like your movies to follow the plan: The promiscuous, drug-abusing teens go first, and that's that.

6. You like sequels where seeing the original is not required. I've actually seen the original, and I'd advise against it. They tell you what you need to know in the beginning around the campfire, anyway.

7. You like celebrity relatives. Angela is played by Pamela Springsteen. That's right, The Boss' sister. And the "Final Girl," Molly, is Renee Estevez, sis of Emilio and half sis of Charley Sheen.

I'm going to assume you can find this on dvd, but I still own a trusty vhs copy. It just feels right.

Nolanometer Final Grade: A-

Things Fall Apart: Mystic River and Million Dollar Baby

Both these films were directed by Clint Eastwood. Mystic River was nominated for Best Picture in 2002. Million Dollar Baby took home the trophy in 2003. What else do they have in common? Their absurd endings largely ruin both films. Spoilers follow. Read on if you dare. Oh, and as with most films I didn't particularly enjoy, I've only seen these once each, so if I get some of the details wrong, let me know.

Of the two films, I prefer Mystic River. It's got incredible performances from Sean Penn as an ex-con consumed with rage over the violent death of his daughter, Tim Robbins as his friend who just might have committed the murder, and Kevin Bacon as their cop buddy stuck in the middle.

The film builds toward an emotionally wrenching climax when Penn confronts Robbins on the banks of Mystic River and forces him to confess to his daughter's killing at the barrel of a gun. He stabs and then shoots his lifelong friend; it's devastating.

That is, until you find out that Robbins didn't do it. It was the brother of the girl's boyfriend. Why did he shoot her in cold blood, drag her body away, and hide it? I have no idea. The kid was just barely in the film. He had no motive, no character development, no role to play other than just appearing in a scene or two. There was nothing that made you say, "Of course, I should've known it all along!" Basically, it's more tragic if Robbins didn't actually kill Penn's daughter, so it's pinned on a fringe character with no back story.

I felt manipulated. If you want a twisty, crushing ending, fine. Set it up properly with a plot line that makes sense. But the film's central focus (Who did it?) can't come down to, "Oh, I don't know. How about the brother of the boyfriend with the gun he stole from the liquor store their family owns?" Just lazy, sloppy storytelling. Perhaps the book the movie's based on gives a more detailed sketch of this character, but I'm going with what I saw onscreen.

Million Dollar Baby makes me even more upset. Much like Mystic, I was enjoying myself through much of it. It had all the right elements to enter the echelon of great sports movies: A young underdog upstart (Hilary Swank) who persuades a crusty, jaded trainer (Clint Eastwood) to give her a shot through much sweat and perseverance. As an added bonus, Morgan Freeman does what he does best: Narrating the action while occasionally showing some young pups what's up in the ring.

Then it all goes titanically wrong. Maggie earns an undercard championship bout in Las Vegas. During the fight she appears to be winning, despite cheap shots worthy of the WWE. Seriously, the Drago/Balboa bout in Rocky IV is more believable.

Then comes the piece de resistance. The bell rings, the ref waves his hands to indicate the round's over, and Swank is walking back to her corner. After getting herself off the ropes, her nemesis rushes her. Swank looks back, and her opponent unleashes a mammoth roundhouse flush to Swank's face. Again, the round has been over for several seconds. Swank is stunned and collapses toward her corner, where for some reason, the corner guy has set the stool out on its side, and, as Eastwood tries frantically to move the stool, her head lands awkwardly on a corner, snapping her neck and paralyzing her. Oh, and I'm pretty sure the cheater boxer wins the fight and doesn't get charged with anything, but don't quote me on that.

It's meant to be shocking and tragic. It's not. It's hilariously absurd, at least for anyone who possesses even one iota of boxing knowledge. It's a completely ludicrous turn of events, unworthy of a film that won Best Picture, for chrissakes.

The last 30 minutes become a completely different movie. Swank's cartoon-evil white trash family visit, attempting to get at her women's boxing fortune. She tries to kill herself by chewing on her own tongue, hoping the blood will drown her and end her suffering. She pleads with Eastwood to kill her, and he eventually does, thus ending her suffering and mine for sitting through this sham of an Oscar pick.

Nolanometer Final Grades:

Mystic River: B
Million Dollar Baby: C