(500) Days of Summer

What a pleasant film! You're lucky if once a year you find a gem like this one that has you cheering as you walk out of the theatre, not only for its uplifting nature but its artistic insight.

(500) Days of Summer is, in many ways, a psychological study of the affect a romantic relationship has on a person. Chronologically, this film is out of whack, to say the least. But not until now am I realizing just how much this movie travelled back and forth across its story's timeline. There is a smooth flow to the chaos. We start with Tom (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) in a sad state (to put it mildly) and go from there, traversing the mountains and valleys of the relationship from Tom's emotional perspective.

Director Marc Webb doesn't take a defining approach to the story. This seemed to bother Joe Morgenstern of the Wall Street Journal, as the film was "searching for a style." But how else do you expect to portray a relationship? It can't be told in just one way. There are too many dimensions to it all and too many emotions to convey.

The title has been listed two ways, one with the parenthesis surrounding the 500 and one without. I prefer to use the parenthesis. Just to say "500 Days of Summer" seems to label those 500 days of the relationship between Tom and Summer as a sum of sorts. It's like looking at the relationship as a whole and ignoring the individual elements that make it that whole. This movie examines those individual elements and contrives an epic journey that is universal in all aspects.

Tom is all of us. Watch this film and you will find yourself feeling what he feels because you've been there before. Summer (wonderfully casted as Zooey Deschanel) has that child-like look in her eyes that makes you melt. You can't help but fall for her pleasant demeanor and be heartbroken when you realize Tom is ultimately not what she wants.

I'm not sure what else I can say to explain this film to you. It has to be felt.

Oscar nominations for Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Original Screenplay.

The Ugly Truth

It is what it is.

There is a moment near the end of "The Ugly Truth" where Kathryn Heigl's Abby and Gerard Butler's Mike have seemed to fall for each other and are on the verge of a romantic evening, but because of Abby's involvement with another man, he walks away and leaves her alone in the hallway of the hotel they are staying at. In this moment, Director of Photography Russell Carpenter creates a semi-vertigo shot (I say "semi", because the forward tracking motion is intentionally discernible) to underline the distance between the two characters as Mike walks away. It's a nice shot, but it's awkwardly interrupted with a cut to a close-up of Abby's reaction before cutting back to the vertigo shot. I couldn't figure out for the life of me how that cut paid off. Who interjects a run-of-the-mill close-up into the middle of a purposeful vertigo shot and then cuts back to that same vertigo shot? I wanted to yell out loud at the screen, in vein hope that either the director and/or editor would hear my cry. But it would be to no avail.

Thus is the film that is "The Ugly Truth." It takes a very interesting universal truth about the difference between the expectations a man and woman have in a relationship and, rather than offer incite wrapped into a thoughtfully funny narrative, cheapens it. It goes over-the-top in an effort to be funny while several of the supporting characters venture too far from reality to have any credibility.

I like Kathryn Heigl. Her and Gerard Butler are solely responsible for any amount of life brought to this insipid piece of work. There was one scene at a baseball game that I genuinely laughed at. A later sequence, revolving around a pair of vibrating underwear, that is probably hoping to be the laugh-out-loud moment of the movie simply does not achieve what it sets out to because I could see how it all would unfold from the moment it started to. Ultimately, I felt the movie could have done without the whole sequence.

Correction: I could have done without the whole movie.

The Hurt Locker

I suspect no other film from the past, present, or future will embody the Iraq War as wholly as “The Hurt Locker” does. However, the film explores themes that are more specific to this war than they are necessarily to war as a whole (for more generalized themes, see “Saving Private Ryan”).

It has an episodic quality to it that limits the storyline. Three instances feature a break from these bomb diffusion sequences. One works, one works only to an extent and one seems unnecessary (at least to me). The two events in question have James running off into the night to chase bad guys but I couldn't help and wonder if such deviant behavior is possible in the military. It must be I suppose, but as a civilian I felt the legitimate possibility of such actions was uncertain in this movie. The scene that does work involves a shootout in the desert that really becomes an intensely character-driven moment and puts some fantastic editing on display.

The suspense is real when it needs to be and created not by quick cuts and overzealous camera movements, but by the classic method of simplicity. Kathryn Bigelow knows that suspense happens naturally in a story. It doesn't need to be glazed over. In the previously mentioned sequence where snipers are positioned in the desert surrounding our protagonists, the initial gunshot happens so matter-of-factly, it's chilling. The sound of the shot is barely audible. The group takes cover and prepares to retaliate. At one point, Sgt. Sanborn (Anthony Mackie) runs out of ammo. Another magazine has to be retrieved off of a soldier shot down just minutes previous. Sanborn replaces the mag. It jams... too much blood on it. Sanborn hands it back to his Specialist Eldridge (Brian Geraghty). He can't get the blood off and needs someone else to help. There is no overt yelling and screaming at one another during all of this, the voices are kept cool but with a strong hint of nerves. All the while several snipers sit in a not-so-far-off building. Its scary how it seems to take place in real time.

Much of the film leaves a veil of mystery over the intent of the Iraqi people that the soldiers encounter. One citizen drives a car straight into a zoned off area and pulls up next to Staff Sgy James while he is preparing to dismanttle a bomb. After a good long minute and a half, maybe two (or maybe it just felt long), where James points a gun at the man commanding him to move, the citizen remains in his car and drives away. It's never revealed why this happens. In a sense, this underlines our xenophobic tendencies. I can imagine the soldiers constantly nervous about the intent of the citizens on the streets and we as an audience become are just as nervous.

The thread that really pushed this movie through was the idea that the main character symbolized our relentless involvement in the middle east. Credit Boal for a fantastic, and yet relatively neutral, metaphor. The character is simply presented and we are allowed to determine for ourselves how we feel about his decisions. Ultimately though it all suffers from a lack of depth in its other themes.

Much like Slumdog Millionaire of yesteryear, the success of Kathryn Bigelow's film with the awards circuit is attributable to its jaw-dropping editing. It is what enables the viewer to fall in love with the movie as a whole, and as a result with every element attached to it.

Public Enemies

I must first express that there are ways in which I was bothered by this film. I hope never again to see something shot in HD format and look the way that this looked. Nearly every low-lighting scenario made me cringe, mainly the interiors with their reddish-brown tint. I hated it. It looked cheap. I had to shake off the feeling that I was watching a student film or some re-enactment on the History Channel.

Furthermore, the sound mixing was... sketchy. On numerous occasions, both the ambient and musical tracks suffered from some very blunt fades (both in and out). The dialogue sounded hallow at times. Certain sound effects would randomly have suspiciously low levels to them. It's weird considering that the great re-recording mixer Kevin O'Connell (with his 20 Oscar nominations) had his hand in this.

Nevertheless, there is a good amount of praise to be given for the work done here. Johnny Depp and Marion Cotillard give very real and gritty performances that draw you in, despite the fact that the film seems to try to keep them at a distance. The contained nature of the story without any real biographical information was a great decision. Appropriately in dialogue, Dillinger tells Frechette that it doesn't matter where you come from but where you're going. To compensate, what needed to be given was more bonding time with Dillinger and his pals throughout. Unfortunately, there's too much of a balance in screen time between Depp's Dillinger and Christian Bale's Melvin Purvis for there to be any truly strong connections with either.

A couple scenes were handled very skillfully. One in which Dillinger and his buddies sit in a movie theatre where the news reel brings up a picture of him and and the announcer proclaims that he could be anywhere. He says to look right. Everyone but Dillinger turns their head. He says to look left. Same result. It's tense but yet laughable how Dillinger manages to avoid recognition. Another has Dillinger walking directly into the "Dillinger Bureau" of the CPD, as if he's just a tourist taking a glance around the place.

There are some wonderful shots that make great use of deep focus. In a shootout, one character is reloading his gun in the foreground on screen right while his foe can be seen slowly approaching from the distance with his gun drawn on screen left. It's a chilling moment when that shot is held for a good many seconds. On the whole, there was too much handheld camerawork for my taste. It became disorienting, especially when the action increased and the shot length decreased.

This is a good film, but only because the story that's being told is so good to begin with. Ultimately, the experience is forgettable. Sadly, that seems to be how Michael Mann films turn out. By all means, he is a solid filmmaker with 4 Oscar nominations to prove it. But, with the exception of Heat (1995), none of his films are brought up much in conversation. So shall it be with "Public Enemies." It has no long-term elasticity.

With 10 Best Picture nominees to be announced, this could be one of them. I'm betting against it, but it's all relative to how films later this year will fair. The same goes for Depp being up for Best Actor. I'll wager he at least lands a Golden Globe nod. I'll put money on an Art Direction nomination and another nod to the resume of Colleen Atwood for her Costume Design.

The Proposal

It is what it is. You know the premise and you know how it's all going to end. The key is how do you get there?

Maybe it's not fair to compare characters in one story to characters in another, but I'm going to do it anyway. Sandra Bullock's Margaret Tate, a boss who is despised by her inferiors, is reminiscent of Meryl Streep's Miranda Priestly in The Devil Wears Prada (2006, dir by David Frankel). But where the latter was given exemplification throughout to back-up the claims of hatred, the former fails. First-time screenwriter Pete Chiarelli doesn't take the screen time, nor story time, to put his characters on display. Very quickly we find ourselves in Alaska, admitedly a visually pleasant device in the film, where everything unfolds within a single weekend. And apparently a 4-day weekend.

Betty White enters as the energetic, but somewhat senile, grandmother to provide some life to this otherwise plain romantic comedy. Also, fans of "The Office" will recognize Oscar Nunez, whose character provides a few bright moments as a running gag.

Yes, I laughed. At best, there's some fun slapstick moments (of course it's always more fun when you are surrounded by 150 laughing audience members in a theatre). But when the humor starts to fade into the supposed climax, the realization of how awkward it is sets in. The characters on the screen say they are in love, but I'm not feeling it. Yes, they have learned something about each other and care for each other as human beings, perhaps with potential romantic interest, but not the sort of love that enables two people to spend the rest of their lives with one another. And because of the legal situation that sparks the inciting incident these two don't even have a chance to let their relationship truly form. Essentially they've just jumped directly into marriage without any idea of what to expect from one another.

For a comedy film, that's a dismal conclusion to arrive at.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Here we are again with an installment to this potentially epic saga that has produced another bittersweet result.

The visuals are lush: Bruno Delbonnel's photography is impressive but yet pleasingly subtle, the art design (particularly that of the cave) is glorious, and the effects are admirable. Nicholas Hooper's score, though not as sweeping as John Williams' early work, yet again proves to be an elegant addition. The scene that takes place within the cave is incredibly engaging and is given the scale it deserves.

As enjoyable as much of the film is, for those of us who know better, there is an unpleasant aftertaste that arrives when the credits come up. We know the source material. We know all the plot devices and characters. We know every line of dialogue and every intricate bit of action that's expected to occur. Yet we don't care about any of this as much as we care about the emotions that come with them. David Yates and his cast and crew do what they can with the script they have been given. However, Steve Kloves yet again (as he did particularly in installments 3 & 4) chooses to make undesirable omissions.

My distaste for his contribution to this series does not stem from the exclusion of subplots and supporting characters or the supposed misinterpretation of what I think people and places should look like. Give me more credit than that. I accept the film as its own entity. What I cannot remain ignorant to is when there are certain emotions that should exist that simply aren't there.

When the climax of the film came I realized it had not been earned. There was simply not enough build. Here was a chance to explore what sent the "greatest dark wizard of all-time" on his descent into hell and we miss out on it. There is no sense of discovery and mystery on the past of this satanic character. All we really learn is the bare necessities to allow the story to continue.

There is no speculation and curiosity, or even any thorough explanation, on the identity of the "Half-Blood Prince" that the film draws its title from. It merely becomes a matter of fact. There is no hint at the heart-breaking betrayal that occurs. There are no pains of weak desperation.

Instead time was allotted on an unmotivated destruction of the Weasley's home that ultimately was never assigned any true purpose.

I have trouble contriving any other explanation other than that Kloves and anyone who finalized his script underestimated the attention span of their audience. There was a depth that could have been explored but was only glanced at, tears that could have been shed but merely lingered in the eyes, and a horribly dark horizon that could have been painted by the end but was only hinted at.

The only potential Oscar nominations: Art Direction and Cinematography.