Paul Simon - "Congratulations"

For a lot of music critics, Paul Simon's album from last year, So Beautiful or So What, was a major comeback for the 70-year-old singer-songwriter. I think the album's solid but not quite spectacular. (I do love "Rewrite," though.) Anyway, So Beautiful sent me into a heavy Simon period last year, and I found myself in particular revisiting Paul Simon from 1972. Heavily praised at the time, it tends to get overlooked a bit now. Here's the closing track, "Congratulations." (And if you'd prefer to hear it on vinyl, here ya go.)

'The Descendants' for Best Picture

Yes, it's been an Oscar-heavy week over here at Everybody's Got One. A few days ago, I offered up my Oscar ballot for Best Picture. Today, I lobby for my No. 1 pick, The Descendants, over at Deadspin. It's funny to think that not that long ago, Oscar bloggers thought it had a decent chance of winning the big prize. That seems like a very long time ago.

Defending 'Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close'

Every Oscar season, there are those few films that get nominated that most people absolutely cannot stand -- or, at least, they're the ones that are very fashionable to despise. For Gawker and Deadspin, I rise to the defense of one of this year's most popular whipping boys: Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close.

You can read the article here, but there's one thing I'd like to add: This is not one of those reactionary, contrarian pieces where I take the opposite viewpoint just because it goes against the grain. I first saw Extremely Loud right before the LAFCA vote in early December, which was weeks before it hits theaters or before reviews had come out. When I saw it, nobody yet had any opinion on the movie. I thought, despite its obvious flaws, that it was a very genuine, affecting work. So the amount of vitriol that soon greeted it caught me by surprise -- except not really, because it is one of those types of movies that invites such strong reactions. In preparation for this article, I went back and watched the film again in the theater just to see if my rosy opinion of it held up. It did. In fact, I felt almost exactly the same way as I had the first time. Just wanted to mention that. OK, here's the article.

(P.S. One other thing: This is my first piece for Gawker and Deadspin, which is part of a very exciting development. If, like me, you miss The Projector, you'll be happy to know that Will Leitch and I are back at it in a revised form for Gawker Media. Will explains it all here. We're both thrilled.)

Review: 'Wanderlust'

In my heart of hearts, I was hoping that Wanderlust could be a modern-day Lost in America. You know, self-satisfied, well-to-do couple exit the rat race to "find" themselves, with hilarity ensuing. Alas, no, Wanderlust isn't so good. I don't have anything against Paul Rudd or Jennifer Aniston, but I don't necessarily love them as comic actors, either. (That will probably surprise you in regards to Rudd. Lot of people adore him. He's fine, but, metabolically, he's never quite been my rhythm.) Funny enough, I actually think Justin Theroux is the best part of the film as the commune leader who seems to have absorbed the spirit of a thousand hippy-dippy tree-huggers, acquiring their powers of massive pretentiousness. My review of Wanderlust is up at Screen International, where you will need a subscription to see it. (Sorry about that.)

My Best Picture Ballot for the 2012 Academy Awards

You know the drill: It's almost time for the Oscars, so here's how I would vote for Best Picture if I was a member of the Academy...

1. The Descendants
2. The Tree of Life
3. Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close
4. Moneyball
5. Midnight in Paris
6. Hugo
7. The Artist
8. War Horse
9. The Help

For my picks for 2011's best films and performances, you can check out my Village Voice ballot.

An Ode to the Heartfelt Oscar Speech

When you think about Adrien Brody's Oscar win, this is probably what you remember. And, sure, it was a classic Academy Awards moment, but do you recall anything about his speech? It's one of my favorites of the last 10 years: heartfelt, spontaneous, utterly overwhelmed by the magnitude of the situation. The Oscars are such a well-orchestrated, elegant affair that I find myself craving the small, human moments that occasionally crop up. For IFC Fix, I wrote about the Oscar speeches that have stayed with me. They're probably not the ones most people remember.

'Ghost Rider Spirit of Vengeance' review

I continue to take no delight in the slow-motion implosion of Nicolas Cage's career. Even while watching something dreadful like Trespass, I find myself quietly pulling for him, ever hopeful that maybe, someday, somehow he'll be able to pull out of this nosedive. But I don't see it happening any time soon, although I thought his Saturday Night Live cameo last weekend was at least a step in the right direction.

His latest is Ghost Rider Spirit of Vengeance. (Trust me: I want to put a colon in there, but you have to follow the punctuation in the press notes, people.) In this sequel, it's Cage being Cage, which seemed to delight a small portion of my midnight audience to no end. (They just loved every bug-eyed silliness Cage provided.) Me, I'd have been happier with the film if it was more -- what's the word? -- fun. My review of Spirit of Vengeance is up at Screen International.

Fiona Apple - "Red Red Red"

It's been seven years since Fiona Apple put out her exceptional Extraordinary Machine. While spending a wonderful Valentine's Day evening at home with my wife, I was shuffling through songs on my stereo and "Red Red Red" came up. Still such an unbelievably beautiful song. So here you go. (And, by the way, in case you never heard the original version of "Red Red Red," here it is. I far prefer the final, album version, but both have their merits.)

'This Means War' Review

When people -- fellow film critics, specifically -- complain about how bad studio movies are, I always want to throw in a slight correction. I think studios still come up with good ideas for movies; it's just the execution that's out of whack. Already this year, we've had three perfectly clever concepts for marketable films: A group of crash survivors have to battle nature (and wolves) in The Grey; a loving couple are forced to reexamine their relationship after one of them gets amnesia in The Vow; and two ace CIA operatives (and best friends) find themselves using their talents to win over the same girl in This Means War. You can roll your eyes at any of those high-concept plots, but I'd argue that absolutely entertaining, engaging Hollywood movies could be made out of them. It's all in how they're made.

In the right hands, This Means War could have been a gleefully amoral romantic action-comedy that satirizes the American intelligence community's arrogance and disregard for the very people they're supposedly protecting. (The underrated, though uneven, Burn After Reading danced around this theme a little.) And casting Chris Pine and Tom Hardy as the CIA operatives and Reese Witherspoon as the object of their affection is hardly a recipe for disaster. But since the debut of the first trailer back in October, it seemed pretty obvious that director McG had gone about this entirely wrong. But trailers aren't movies, so I remained open to the possibility that This Means War might be fun.

Unfortunately, the movie is unsuccessful in all the ways that studio movies are unsuccessful these days. McG and his cast have taken a juicy premise and infantilized it. Pine and Hardy are best friends, but, of course, they're amazingly diametrically-opposed best friends: Pine is the swinging ladies' man, while Hardy is the sensitive guy with the son and ex-wife. And, because this is a movie, Witherspoon's character looks like Reese Witherspoon but yet somehow can't find any men -- any at all -- although she lives in Los Angeles. Through silly coincidences that are always easier to swallow when they're accompanied by sharp, witty banter -- which this movies tries so hard to achieve -- both guys discover they're dating Witherspoon. But rather than discussing it maturely -- or telling her that they know each other -- they concoct an elaborate set of ground rules that, of course, will be violated rather quickly.

This Means War is one of those films that finds it endlessly amusing when certain characters are tricking other characters into falling in love with them. Come to think of it, this has sort of been the M.O. of a lot of romantic comedies over the last 10 years, which inevitably leads to that predictable third-act moment when the unsuspecting person learns the truth and there are lots of earnest confessions from the other character along the lines of "I wasn't trying to hurt you -- I didn't expect to fall in love!" Something like that kinda happens in This Means War, but if you're looking for advice from this film in how to smooth over such a predicament, the answer seems to be, Put the woman's life in danger as quickly as possible and then rescue her. Yeah, chicks fall for stuff like that, bro.

Naturally, the makers of This Means War would object to such criticism, insisting that it's "just a movie" and that people "shouldn't take it so seriously." Which would be fine, except for the fact that This Means War achieves the rather astounding feat of making three very charming performers rather repellant. Pine is no stranger to playing cocky, but in comparison to his more winning turns in Star Trek and Unstoppable, his character in This Means War is just a jerk. He never quite gets around to understanding that a conceited ladies' man is only enjoyable if there's some sort of deep insecurity underneath it all. As for Hardy, he's a cliche of a romantic doormat, but not, y'know, a funny cliche of a romantic doormat. And Witherspoon is completely adequate as the high-maintenance love interest, although I'm considering offering a huge reward to Hollywood if I can watch just one mainstream romantic comedy whose female character isn't high-maintenance. But none of these stars' inherent likability is worth a lick since they're forced to play petty, glib, self-absorbed characters whom, I gather, I'm supposed to relate to because, doggone it, love is so complicated, huh?

While suffering through This Means War and its rather inane portrayals of both sexes -- which is to say nothing of its inane vision of what married life is like -- I flashed on a rather unlikely double-bill partner for this film: In the Company of Men. It's not all that similar -- in that one, two vindictive creeps decide to date the same woman to break her heart -- but there are some of the same power dynamics going on. In Company of Men, one guy is all confident charisma, while the other is more of a sweet pushover. And the poor woman, who's just looking for love, has no idea of the larger game that's afoot. That movie had a pretty great concept, and look how well they developed it. As for This Means War, it appears that everybody involved fell in love with the concept and left the details to the marketing people.

Denzel Washington, on Autopilot

It's been a long time now, but there was once a period when Denzel Washington was my favorite actor. Can anyone make that claim now? Sure, he still stars in hit movies, but when's the last time he did anything really spectacular or surprising? Inspired (or, more accurately, very mildly impressed) by Safe House, I wrote a piece for IFC Fix about Washington's predictable career choices of late. You can read it here.

The Shins - "Simple Song"

When you write about music, you have to be a realist. Bands break up and get back together all the time, and quite often it has to do with money. No one should be surprised by that: To paraphrase someone I once interviewed, you have to remember that "music" isn't the most important word in the phrase "music business." Still, I found myself deeply annoyed when it came out that Shins main man James Mercer was firing his bandmates a few years ago. There's something undeniably communal about the Shins' music, which rides high on its vulnerable, delicate humanism. Well, I thought so, anyway. But Mercer claims the lineup change was an "aesthetic decision" -- "I started to have production ideas that I wanted to do that basically required some other people," he said in 2009 -- although to me it feels like divorcing the wife who stuck with you during the tough times and marrying the actress once you get famous. But, like I said, it's completely silly to hold grudges about things like that.

This brings us to their new song, "Simple Song." By all rights, it's a very conventional Shins song: pretty melody, lilting vocals, big chorus hook. Couldn't the old members have done it just as well? That's not for me to say. But I confess I can't quite shake off a bit of bitterness about the whole thing. That's my problem, not Mercer's -- but I do wonder if other old-school fans like me aren't feeling the same thing at the moment.

'Amadeus' Blogathon: The Agony of Defeat

Note: Bilge Ebiri recently launched a blogathon in honor of Amadeus. This is my contribution.

Robert Christgau, the Dean of American Rock Critics, once summed up perfectly the secret to any critic's success. "There are two parts to being a good critic," he said. "First, you have to know what you like. And, second, you have to be able to explain honestly why you like it -- even if the reason is completely disgraceful." The second part is harder: Critics of every stripe are deathly concerned with acting as if their pronouncements are based entirely on aesthetic principles and deep analytical musings. But we all have to admit that some works of art affect us on a visceral, emotional level that goes beyond being moved or getting misty-eyed. Some films simply have our number to such a degree that we can't shake them. They understand us, they get us -- hell, they own us, whether we like it or not. Such is the case with Amadeus for me.

As you no doubt know, Amadeus (which won eight Oscars, including Best Picture) was adapted from Peter Shaffer's Tony-winning play, which was itself based on a 19th century play that later got turned into an opera. The 1984 film is now probably the best-known version of the fictionalized feud between Antonio Salieri (Oscar-winner F. Murray Abraham) and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Tom Hulce), the young upstart who arrives in Vienna near the end of the 18th century, quickly proving himself to be one of the world's finest composers. But Amadeus is not the typical biopic in which a great man overcomes hardships and resistance in an inspirational way: It's actually the story of a bitter, small man (Salieri) who does his best to undermine a genius -- an obnoxious, conceited genius, to be sure, but a genius all the same.

The different iterations of Amadeus came into my orbit in an unusual way. I first saw the work through Shaffer's revival of the play in 1999, which came to Los Angeles with David Suchet as Salieri and the then-relative-unknown Michael Sheen as Mozart. I still consider this the superior version of Amadeus, although I have great admiration for the film, which I initially caught in its "director's cut" version during its 2002 theatrical run. The reason why I prefer the stage version is that I think it drives home the work's essential point: Like it or not, we're all Salieri. In the play, when Suchet delivers his final monologue, absolving "us" of our mediocrity, the panel of mirrors behind him turns so that the audience sees themselves. Now, compare that to the ending of director Milos Forman's film:



Salieri isn't lumping the audience in with those "mediocrities": He's talking to all the other people in the loony bin, not us. It's a small but crucial difference that keeps Forman's film (which was written by Shaffer) from being the devastating social critique that it should be.

At a writing salon where I teach, I use Amadeus as a reference point on how to create great villains. And the reason why I do so is because the film illustrates a basic principle of indelible antagonists: They think they're the heroes of their story. Watching Amadeus, it's easy to assume that Salieri is the hero. (From a simplistic Robert McKee perspective on Hollywood writing, Salieri is the active character who drives the narrative forward.) But look at what Salieri represents: envy, pride, stubbornness, moral corruption. These aren't the qualities of your typical "good guy." But can Mozart be the hero? Sure, he produces all those great musical works, but he's a brat. He's conceited. He refuses to act the way a proper hero should.

And this is where Shaffer's story derives most of its power. Who are we to relate to in Amadeus? Is it better to be Salieri, a "proper" gentleman who has devoted his life to behaving the way he believes that he "should"? Or is it better to be Mozart, who acts childishly and impetuously but will be forever remembered throughout history for his masterpieces? And are those the only two choices we have in life?

When I look at some of the movies I consider the greatest of all time -- Barry Lyndon, Hoop Dreams, McCabe & Mrs. Miller, There Will Be Blood -- one of their overlapping themes is the fanatical male competitiveness that consumes their main characters. Obviously, most movies feature a protagonist who wants something, but these films (as well as Amadeus) are chiefly about competition as a ruling principle of men. Competition defines winners and losers in these movies, and woe be to those who end up the losers. Most critics agree that these films are superb for a lot of reasons, but I can't deny that this particular theme resonates so deeply that I can't quite separate my personal response to that theme from the movies' overriding attributes.

But Amadeus is perhaps the thorniest of these particular films because of how it forces the audience to look upon Mozart as "the other": the inexplicable genius that we'd like to be but simply cannot. But if we can't be Mozart, who are we? It's more explicit in the play, but the film also suggests that by default we're all Salieris -- and it's up to us to decide how we'll behave in the company of brilliance. Will we be gracious enough to acknowledge our betters while admiring our good fortune to be around such a prodigy in our lifetime? Or will we try to tear down that person in a vain attempt to fool ourselves into thinking that somehow he isn't as preternaturally gifted as we feared? On one level, Amadeus flatters us by letting us join in with Salieri's vindictive glee, but also notice how the movie is noticeably mum on these issues I've just raised. In its own way, the movie figuratively holds up a mirror to the audience in the same way that the play does literally. We're all blessed and cursed to be around extraordinary people who have talents and gifts we wished we possessed. But will we let their gifts define us -- and, in turn, destroy us? That's why Amadeus stays with me: It won't absolve me from these questions.

'The Vow' review

Sometimes I wonder if Rachel McAdams wants to be a star. After her breakthrough in The Notebook and Wedding Crashers, she seems to have mostly drifted from mediocre choice to mediocre choice. (She was good in State of Play, though, while I thought she was the weak link in Midnight in Paris.) Now she's in The Vow, which the radio DJ who hosted last night's screening helpfully mentioned would "make your girl cry." So, you know, watch out for that. She and Channing Tatum have some chemistry, but, seriously, this is a wasted effort for all involved. (If you ever wanted to see Sam Neill act like a smarmy member of the 1%, here's your opportunity.) My review is up at Screen International.

Oscar Nominated Short Films 2012

It's become an annual tradition I love: writing about the Oscar-nominated shorts for The Village Voice. For the second straight year, the theatrical series will include live-action, animated and documentary shorts, and in my review I cover all three categories. If you want a little spoiler, the animated field is the best of the bunch -- as it seems to be each year. In particular, seek out Wild Life, a poetic, sad little rumination about an Englishman who decides to reinvent himself amidst the harsh Canadian prairie. You can read my thoughts about Wild Life, and the rest of the shorts, here.

'Journey 2: The Mysterious Island' review

Hollywood produces lots of bad movies, but there's a particular type of bad movie it does that makes me positively uncomfortable. That would be the children's/family action film in which everybody on screen stands around and either smiles too broadly or delivers lame quips too strenuously. It's like a living version of a laugh track: Everything here is so highly entertaining, the film seems to be saying. Why aren't you having fun? It's so painfully artificial that I have a hard time watching the screen. It's a way of promoting an inane version of real life to young people who aren't old enough to know it's total malarkey.

These were the thoughts bouncing around my brain for most of the 90-something minutes that constitute Journey 2: The Mysterious Island. It's probably silly to have expected anything from this film. Sure, we all love Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson -- sure, Michael Caine can be a hoot -- but the aggressive mediocrity of the whole endeavor is numbing and insulting. But, boy, do people quip with a vengeance.

In my travels, I had neglected to see the first Journey -- that one, Journey to the Center of the Earth, had Brendan Fraser in it -- but that doesn't matter. The two films are linked together by young adventurer Sean (Josh Hutcherson), who this time teams up with the stepfather (Johnson) he can't stand to find an uncharted island that's been discovered by his Indiana Jones-like grandfather (Caine). Sean's love interest (Vanessa Hudgens) and her father (Luis Guzman) tag along, too, and soon the gang is being chased by big lizards and bees and electric eels.

Journey 2 was directed by Brad Peyton, who previously brought us another unwanted sequel, Cats & Dogs: The Revenge of Kitty Galore. (Like Journey 2, that was also in 3D.) If Peyton's not careful, he's going to wholly corner the market on fitfully dull kids' action movies. This one has a little more excitement than Kitty Galore, but like too many action flicks geared to younger people, it walks this weird line between simplistic emotional manipulation and adult scariness. (Way too many critters jump at the camera for shock value.) From moment to moment, I wasn't sure what audience Journey 2 was going after, although it is my sincere hope that some boys on the cusp of puberty will adopt the Rock's advice to Sean about popping your pecs to impress a girl. Anything to help get our nation's kids in shape.

And since the film isn't sufficiently fun or exciting or clever enough to sustain interest, my mind wandered all over the place. Geez, the effects in this thing are pretty substandard. Wow, Vanessa Hudgens' people must be thrilled that she walks around this whole movie wearing a cut-too-low tank top. Man, Hutcherson was so good in The Kids Are All Right and such a waste in this. Why does Johnson have such a low opinion of his talent that he agrees to these sorts of throwaway films? And when is this thing over so I can go home?

The Weeknd - "House of Balloons/Glass Table Girls"

If you listen to only one song from Abel Tesfaye (a.k.a. the Weeknd), make it this one. (What Philippe Petit has to do with any of this is beyond me.)

Sundance 2012: Ranking the Best and Worst of the Festival

And so we come to the end of another Sundance film festival. All in all, I saw 32 films, including a couple I checked out at Toronto last year that also played in Park City. Here's my ranking of what I saw, from worst to best...

Tim and Eric's Billion Dollar Movie
Red Lights
Lay the Favorite
Goats
Wish You Were Here
LUV
Wrong
Chasing Ice
For a Good Time, Call...
Mosquita y Mari
Celeste and Jesse Forever
The End of Love
I Am Not a Hipster
Black Rock
For Ellen
The Invisible War
The Surrogate
The Imposter
Smashed
The House I Live In
Beasts of the Southern Wild
The Words
Gypsy Davy
Sleepwalk With Me
Wuthering Heights
Simon Killer
Your Sister's Sister
Marina Abramovic: The Artist Is Present
Safety Not Guaranteed
Room 237
28 Hotel Rooms
Compliance

You may notice that Beasts of the Southern Wild isn't as high on my list as it is on many other folks'. I think it's a good film, if a bit overpraised. You also may notice I missed several films that won prizes as last night's awards event. What can I say: There's only so much time, and you can't screen everything. But you can be sure I'll be doing some catchup over the next several months.

Sundance 2012: '28 Hotel Rooms' Review

You would assume that the strongest offerings at Sundance would be in the competition sections, but for my money the two best movies I've seen this festival have been in NEXT, which spotlights daring/quirky low-budget fare. (Last year, Bellflower premiered in NEXT.) This year NEXT featured the touching and funny Sleepwalk With Me, but it also played host to the magnificent Compliance and a terrific film I saw yesterday: 28 Hotel Rooms. The premise couldn't be simpler -- a Seattle woman and a New York man carry out a clandestine affair over the span of 28 separate encounters in different hotels -- but the film burrows deeper into the nature of commitment and passion than just about any other recent love story I can recall. I was entranced, as I hope comes across in my Screen International review.

Sundance 2012: 'Mosquita y Mari' review

Two teen Chicana girls share a close personal bond in Mosquita y Mari, but does that mean they're in love with one another? That's the question at the center of this modest little drama, and the film's strongest attribute is that it never says for sure -- after all, the two girls don't even know the answer to that one. My review is up at Screen International.

The Kills - "Future Starts Slow"

One of the fun side effects of seeing so many movies at Sundance is getting a chance to hear a particularly great song in a new setting. For example, "Dance Yrself Clean" I've always loved, but the way the LCD Soundsystem track is used in Simon Killer is simply brilliant. Then there's the Kills, who are all over the soundtrack to Black Rock. "Future Starts Slow" is especially wonderful in the context of that horror/thriller. So turn it up.

Sundance 2012: 'For Ellen' review

For Ellen is the third film from writer-director So Yong Kim, and by this point in her career, you should know what to expect from her movies. A gradual pace, an outsider main character, not a lot of plot.... If you get on her wavelength, her movies have such flow to them. Her first, In Between Days, showed a lot of promise, but I wasn't as impressed with her follow-up, Treeless Mountain. For Ellen might be her strongest -- to my mind, anyway. It stars Paul Dano as a would-be rocker who's about to reunite with the young daughter he's never known. My Screen International review is here.

Sundance 2012: 'The Words' review

I think I'm really starting to turn the corner on Bradley Cooper. Where once he did nothing for me, now I'm enjoying his onscreen presence, whether it was in last year's Limitless or in his new film, The Words. The literary thriller got picked up by CBS Films here at Sundance, and it's the sort of airport-novel flick that ought to play well with audiences. The Words is all about its story-within-a-story cleverness, and it's executed in a fun, escapist way. My review is up at Screen International.

Sundance 2012: 'Gypsy Davy' review

I haven't had a chance to see any documentaries yet at this year's Sundance -- I've been focusing on features for the first half of the festival -- but yesterday I saw Gypsy Davy, a rather touching film from director Rachel Leah Jones. Her film is about Flamenco guitarist David Serva, a renowned musician (and inspiration for the Counting Crows' "Mr. Jones") who has had five children, each with a different woman. Jones is one of those children, and her film explores those women and children, creating a portrait of the artist that gets away from the typical talking-heads/career-highlights bio treatment. This is a very quiet, intimate, personal movie, but I was moved by it. I sang the film's praises over at Screen International. And here's a little taste of Serva's musicianship....

Sundance 2012: 'Goats' review

Generally speaking, Sundance's Premieres section is where they spotlight indie-ish films that will eventually get into theaters. They're not necessarily the most artistically adventurous films, but they're probably the most commercial offerings at the fest. And in the case of something like Goats, it means sitting through a mediocre movie that features stars you're pretty sure must have better things to do with their time. I don't mean to pick on Goats -- a so-so coming-of-age tale with David Duchovny and Vera Farmiga -- but it's indicative of a type of Sundance film I have little patience for. I reviewed the film for Screen International.

Sundance 2012: 'Black Rock' review

Director Katie Aselton's first film was The Freebie, about a married couple who decide that since their sex life is in a rut they're going to allow each other to have a one-night-only fling with someone else. Some might find that premise shocking, but it's got nothing on her follow-up film. Black Rock tells the scary story of three female friends (Kate Bosworth, Lake Bell, Aselton) who go on vacation together to a remote island ... and, well, bad stuff happens. I reviewed the thriller for Screen International.

Sundance 2012: 'Tim and Eric's Billion Dollar Movie' review

Don't have the mistaken impression that all the movies at Sundance are stunning works of independent and world cinema. Some of them are just terrible. Like Tim and Eric's Billion Dollar Movie. Seriously, folks, Tim Heidecker and Eric Wareheim should never be allowed to make anything longer than two minutes again. I caught the film at Park City, but it's going to be hitting VOD on Friday. My sincere hope is that my Screen International review sufficiently conveys how much I loathed this film.

Sundance 2012: 'LUV' review

LUV is a film I wanted to like, but I just couldn't get all the way there. It tells the story of an 11-year-old African-American (Michael Rainey Jr.) who reunites with his Uncle Vincent (Common), who's just out of prison. Set in Baltimore, it's part coming-of-age tale, part crime drama, part sociocultural study. The sociocultural study element is the movie's strongest selling point: Unfortunately, the story itself is just too derivative. I reviewed LUV for Screen International.

Sundance 2012: 'For a Good Time, Call...' review

For a Good Time, Call... looks like the sort of movie that when it hits theaters will be described as "this year's Bridesmaids." It's not because it's about a maid of honor -- it's just that the movie features two female characters who talk about dildos and start their own phone-sex line. The comedy, which premiered last night at Sundance, is extremely uneven, but its stars (Ari Graynor and Lauren Anne Miller) are a pretty fun pair. My review just went up over at Screen International.

Sundance 2012: 'Smashed' review

Smashed is hardly a momentous or revelatory movie, but I wish more American indies were like it. Small-scaled but emotionally honest, it tells the story of a young married couple in Los Angeles (played by Mary Elizabeth Winstead and Aaron Paul) who clearly have a drinking problem. But because they're happy and in love, it's all good, right? Maybe, maybe not. I reviewed Smashed for Screen International.

Sundance 2012: 'Compliance' review

I had been impressed with Craig Zobel's first film, Great World of Sound, but nothing prepared me for what he would do next. That would be Compliance, which debuted Saturday at Sundance and caused quite a stir in the audience. I can understand the volcanic, angry response, but I think it's completely misguided. I reviewed the film for Screen International, and I worked hard to avoid the word "masterpiece," although I think the movie gets pretty darn close to earning that designation.

Sundance 2012: 'Lay the Favorite' review

Rebecca Hall is a good actress, but she should never, ever play a ditzy Florida stripper who moves to Vegas and ends up getting sucked into the world of professional sports gambling. Oops, too late, she already did. The film is Lay the Favorite, which is directed by Stephen Frears and also stars Bruce Willis, Vince Vaughn and Catherine Zeta-Jones. It's a comedy that sees its milieu as one filled with adorable caricatures. It's not a pretty sight. My review is up at Screen International.

Sundance 2012: 'Wrong' review

Wrong is the new film from Quentin Dupieux, who last made the killer-tire horror-comedy Rubber. Wrong isn't a genre send-up like Rubber was, though: This time around, Dupieux is going for an off-kilter, absurdist comedy in which people still work in offices even after they're fired and lonely losers seek out their lost dogs while debating the merits of a new pizza company's logo. If deadpan oddness is your thing, you'll eat up Wrong. I was a little more mixed, personally: I explain why over at Screen International.

Sundance 2012: 'Celeste and Jesse Forever' review

No Strings Attached and Friends With Benefits were failed attempts by Hollywood to try to modernize the romantic comedy by suggesting that some people aren't looking for "the one": They just want to enjoy a no-pressure sexual relationship with someone they like hanging out with. Beyond their other failings, those two movies bombed because, despite their aspirations to be "hip" and/or "edgy," deep down inside they were as conventional as your typical rom-com. The forthcoming Friends With Kids, which I saw back in Toronto, offers hope that some filmmakers can come up with some fresh ideas on this front, and now comes Celeste and Jesse Forever, which isn't a great film, but at least is a sincere and touching one.

Co-written by Rashida Jones, the film stars Jones and Andy Samberg as a married couple who have decided to get divorced -- even though it has done nothing to dampen the lifelong bond they've shared since grade school. Their buddies refuse to believe that these two can remain friends after separating, but it seems to be working out quite well for them....until it suddenly doesn't. I reviewed the comedy-drama for Screen International.

Sundance 2012: 'Red Lights' review

Despite some reservations, I liked Buried, the 2010 thriller starring Ryan Reynolds as an ordinary man who finds himself buried alive in a box and must find a way to get out alive. That film's director, Rodrigo Cortes, is back with Red Lights, a bigger but not necessarily better follow-up. This one stars Cillian Murphy and Sigourney Weaver as paranormal investigators who seek to disapprove claims of the supernatural. But in their path is Robert De Niro as an infamous blind psychic who went into seclusion 30 years ago. If this sounds a bit like a graphic novel, you're on the right wavelength. Unfortunately, Red Lights is overlong and overwrought -- Cortes takes this enjoyably preposterous premise ridiculously seriously. Red Lights sure isn't boring, but unfortunately it sure isn't that good, either. My review is at Screen International.

Sundance 2012: 'Wish You Were Here' review

Two years ago at Sundance, I saw Animal Kingdom, an exceptional Australian thriller starring (among others) Joel Edgerton. He was a virtual unknown to me, although after the fact I realized he had played young Owen in the Star Wars prequels. (You'll forgive me if I wiped that trilogy from my memory banks.)

I've been charting Edgerton's progress since -- he was quite good in the overrated Warrior -- and now he's back at Sundance with Wish You Were Here. It's a drama about two couples who go off on a vacation together -- and one of them ends up missing. Folks, it's no Animal Kingdom. Sadly, it's not even Warrior. My review is up at Screen International. 

TV on the Radio - "Killer Crane"

For me, one of the biggest shocks of this year's Pazz & Jop music poll was how low TV on the Radio's Nine Types of Light ranked. Not even in the Top 40 -- ouch. I'm not saying it's a masterpiece -- it didn't make my album ballot either -- but I had assumed that TVOTR were one of those groups (like Wilco or Radiohead) whose every album would at least make a decent showing in P&J. Apparently, people just didn't dig Nine Types of Light. Too bad: Here's the great track "Killer Crane" from the disc.

'Red Tails' review

George Lucas spent more than two decades trying to bring the story of the Tuskegee Airmen to the big screen. And now he has ... and it's Red Tails, and it's not very good. Sure, Lucas is simply the executive producer of this World War II drama, but the movie will remind you of all the worst qualities of his Star Wars prequels: wooden performances, on-the-nose dialogue.... Just be glad there's no Jar-Jar Binks. My review is up at Screen International.

My Pazz and Jop Ballot; or, Defending 'Goblin'

Even though it's been six years since Robert Christgau got fired from The Village Voice, I remain positively giddy each January when his creation, the Pazz & Jop music poll, comes out. This year's edition went live today, and count me as one of the people who assumed that Bon Iver's self-titled second disc was gonna win the album poll. Boy, was I off: It finished in ninth. The actual winner was tUnE-yArDs (the brainchild of Merrill Garbus) and her second disc, w h o k i l l. It was the first time a woman has topped the poll since Lucinda Williams' 1998 record, Car Wheels on a Gravel Road. That was also the last time women occupied the top two spots: Williams narrowly edged out The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, and this year Garbus slid by PJ Harvey's career-comeback Let England Shake.

Of course, Pazz & Jop isn't the same without Christgau's year-defining essay that always used to accompany the results. (Last week's "Rock & Roll &" essay is more about his best-of list than the music year in general, although it's definitely a must-read.) I've been contributing to P&J since 2000 -- my No. 1 album that year was And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out -- and while I miss Christgau's hands-on stewardship of the poll (although he still does contribute a ballot) I think this is by and large still the definitive countdown of the best in music.

This brings us to my ballot. A focus on film reviewing in recent years -- and a concentration on covering rock music thanks to my work at About.com and Revolver -- has made it a little tougher to write about all the albums and songs that matter to me on a daily/weekly/monthly basis, so I figured I'd take a moment to highlight some of my picks. But probably, I should just spend my time defending my No. 1 album of 2011, Tyler, the Creator's Goblin, a lowly No. 98 on the album chart that contained votes from 700 music critics. Even Metallica and Lou Reed's universally loathed Lulu charted higher.

Released in May -- just two months after the artist born Tyler Okonma turned 20 -- Goblin was impossible to judge without also discussing the man behind its making. The leader of Odd Future, a buzz-heavy L.A. rap collective, Tyler, the Creator has been criticized for his homophobic and misogynistic antics that he's been unable to defend in any meaningful way. Goblin is a treasure trove of similarly disgusting sentiments, and he and his posse of Odd Future rappers -- with the possible exception of Frank Ocean, whose Nostalgia, Ultra suggested he might be the one guy in this group who has a healthy amount of empathy for other human beings -- do little to convince me that these dudes aren't straight-up jerks.

And yet... in ways that recall Never Mind the Bollocks or Appetite for Destruction, Goblin is a record I find fascinating and gripping in almost perfectly indirect proportion to how much I like the artist personally. Goblin is Tyler's second album -- his first was Bastard -- and it's been compared to the unapologetic rage of Eminem's early records. (As Brad Wete noted in his Entertainment Weekly review, Goblin really deserves the title My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy even more than Kanye's 2010 record does.) Tyler's anger at those around him -- music critics, Bruno Mars, kids who grew up rich, Bill O'Reilly, girls who won't sleep with him, girls who will sleep with him but give him diseases -- may be partly in his head, but as a producer and a record-maker, he knows how to turn his album into a paranoid, claustrophobic hall of mirrors in which his misanthropy starts to develop its own kind of bizarre inner logic.

But despite his monstrously ugly persona, Tyler succeeds in making his shallow complaints compelling. He mourns the friends he's lost, he pines for the one good girl he managed to come across -- naturally, it's his fault that she got back with her old boyfriend -- and when he talks about killing himself, his freak-show keyboards and jittery samples give the boasts a frightening realism. (Even when it's stooping to mere shock value, Goblin turns out to be rather effectively shocking.) And while he doesn't want you calling his music horrorcore, there's an undeniably nightmarish quality to it. But that doesn't mean it's monotonous: Only after weeks of slowly digesting Goblin and then putting it away for a while did I realize how the songs' hooks had stuck with me. No question his petulance ties the (admittedly overlong) disc together, but his beats -- sometimes merciless, other times tricky, occasionally haunting -- are a close second.

If Goblin was a movie, it might be Rampart or There Will Be Blood, starring a thoroughly detestable main character who we don't like but whom we come to understand. And so we have yet another musician whose personal behavior is repellent but also fuels the vibrant, upsetting and, yes, sometimes funny art that he makes. You wouldn't want your daughter dating this creep, but on Goblin he lets you enter his dark twisted fantasy. Just remember it's a fantasy -- or at least I hope it is.

The Roots - "Make My"

Seriously, folks, I'm gonna keep saying it until it sinks in: The Roots are America's best band. (Well, either them are Drive-By Truckers.) Undun came out at the end of 2011 and hasn't gotten nearly enough love. So it's a "concept album" -- you don't need to know the concept to love it. The music's what matters, and Undun is a fount of gorgeous, smart, hard, wonderful music. This is "Make My."

Godard's 'Weekend' at the Cinefamily

This is an occasional feature called Blind Spots. It gives me a chance to write about movies or albums or whatever that I missed during their initial run. Ideally, this exercise of going back will help me fill in some gaps. I'll write these whenever the spirit moves me.

Two film critic colleagues' comments about Jean-Luc Godard are useful to suggest the wide gap in opinion about the iconic French New Wave filmmaker:

Film Critic Colleague Number 1: "Nobody really likes Godard. He's a guy you're supposed to like, but nobody really does -- they just say they do."

Film Critic Colleague Number 2: "The problem with most filmmakers is that they don't challenge you. But when you watch a Godard film, you think, 'You're a [expletive]. And you're such a [expletive] that I'm gonna sit here and watch your movie and prove that you're a [expletive].'"

(By the way, Film Critic Colleague Number 2 loves Godard: He was saying this to prove his point about what a genius Godard is.)

I'm somewhere in between my two colleagues. I'm still working my way through Godard's immense oeuvre, but there isn't a single film of his that I've seen that I haven't been inordinately impressed by. (Of course, I've yet to see his King Lear.) At the same time, there isn't one I haven't had major reservations about. For me, he's a filmmaker to admire deeply but who's hard to love. His shadow is so large and his influence so wide that it's simply ridiculous to dismiss what he's accomplished. (If you're someone who gets all sappy about Hollywood's maverick '70s, you'd better recognize that just about every film of that era was directly inspired by something Godard did in the '60s.) But even if no Godard film has fully, wholly, completely connected with me, I keep going through his catalog, preferably on the big screen if I can help it.

The latest opportunity presented itself Friday night at the Cinefamily, which is doing a retrospective of Godard's work (including the much-belated L.A. run of his latest, Film Socialisme.) The long story short is that his 1967 film Weekend, which is being presented in a brand new 35mm print, was supposed to play at the Nuart around Thanksgiving of last year, but instead it got pulled for another week of Melancholia. So the Cinefamily got to play host to the revival screening instead, although it is funny to think how similar Godard's and Von Trier's movies are in some ways. Though their approaches couldn't be more different, both films are about the end of the world.

Tight narrative is rarely a major component of a Godard film, so let's dispense with Weekend's as quickly as possible. The married couple Corinne and Roland (Mireille Darc and Jean Yanne), who are both engaged in adulterous affairs, head off on a car trip one weekend to see her gravely ill father. Their reasons are purely selfish -- they want their inheritance, and they're hoping the old man will croak quickly -- and they have no qualms whatsoever about their motives. But as we quickly learn, these two have no qualms whatsoever about any of their consumerist, self-centered actions. Almost 40 years before the funny series of Jason Sudeikis and Kristen Wiig sketches on Saturday Night Live, Weekend's central characters were the original Two A-Holes.

This was hardly new territory for Godard, of course: Starting with Breathless, he'd very happily populated his movies with protagonists you're pretty sure you're not entirely supposed to like. But what made Weekend such a watershed for me was how superbly complete its dislike for modern life was. Godard has never had the rosiest view of humanity, but Weekend might be his bleakest portrait -- and yet it's also probably his funniest.

The couple's car trip does not go as planned, resulting in many run-ins with various strange characters, some real, some seemingly figments of fiction (including a few castaways from Lewis Carroll). But what becomes clear rather quickly -- once the couple escape a seemingly endless traffic jam near the film's opening -- is that these two are really journeying into Hell. Or, more accurately, another version of Hell. Weekend is not one of those films that equates city life with civilization and the countryside with barbarism: The city is filled with jerks in cars who keep crashing into one another, resorting to violence in a moment's notice -- or, at the very least, leaning on their horns with obnoxious frequency. Meanwhile, the countryside in Weekend is filled with radicals who enjoy a little raping, savagery and cannibalism. And Corinne and Roland aren't innocents trying to make their way: They're spoiled and obnoxious and seemly wholly indicative of the sort of nightmarish reality Godard is decrying in his film.

This should be a movie in which there's no rooting interest -- and, hence, no viewer interest at all -- but I have to say I found the whole thing rather riveting. Part of that is because Darc and Yanne are so good at being so shallow. Their short-sighted rudeness in the face of the fiery overturned cars on the highway has a sort of deadpan wit to it. There's a dark, apocalyptic undercurrent humming throughout Weekend -- almost a surreal sci-fi edge -- and yet these two nitwits, these two complete wastes of space, just keep merrily rolling along, mostly annoyed that it's taking a lot longer to get to Corinne's dad's home than they were hoping. That was the genius of the "Two A-Holes" sketches as well: Not only didn't Sudeikis and Wiig care that they were horrible people, they seem irritated that more people weren't like them.

Because Godard enjoys didactic digressions -- you could argue that his later films, like Film Socialisme, are nothing but them -- Weekend is weighed down by preachy political commentaries. These tend to stop the film dead in its tracks, but because so much of the movie has a vaguely unhinged quality to it, I found myself more receptive to them than usual. And while Godard's visual aesthetic often mixes between playful and pretentious, Weekend features some of his more arresting moments. The long traffic-jam scene is rightly heralded, but it's just one of several fairly brilliant scenes, each done in a single take (One involves a detailed account of an orgy. The other a bit of Mozart.) Though Godard is clearly on the side of the hippie guerrillas who emerge in the film's second half, he seems to understand the limits of rebellion and antisocial behavior. That's why Weekend doesn't really need its talky stretches: The film's very conception -- a world gone mad that most people are too self-absorbed to notice -- tells you more than any single bit of dialogue. Technically speaking, the world doesn't end in Weekend, but it sure feels like humanity is on its final legs. And Godard seems rather cheered by it.

"Weekend is a prolonged howl of rage at the perceived vanities and cruelties of bourgeois life," Richard Brody wrote in his book Everything Is Cinema: The Working Life of Jean-Luc Godard.  Maybe, but that hardly makes the film a downer. If anything, it's liberating -- almost cheery. As R.E.M.'s Michael Stipe once sang in "Ignoreland":

I know that this is vitriol
No solution, spleen-venting
But I feel better having screamed
Don't you?

Godard sure does.

'The Devil Inside' review ... and the State of Studio Horror Films

The Devil Inside opens today. As you might imagine, it's not so good. But I wanted to touch on a few things that I didn't have the space to address in my Screen International review:

1. Why do people find exorcisms scary?

I realize that may sound like a silly question. People find them scary because the person is flopping around and speaking in tongues and spewing horrible things out of his or her mouth (or other orifices, if you're really unlucky). But unlike other horrific/terrifying things that are portrayed on screen, I don't find myself particularly scared by the prospect of seeing an exorcism on screen. It's not like being killed by a guy with a knife or being trapped in a haunted house or having to escape zombies: As farfetched as some of those scenarios are, they at least seem plausible in the world of a horror movie. But with an exorcism, well, you're sorta just watching someone (who's normally not the main character) having their limbs go in funky directions they normally don't. That's incredibly discomforting to watch, but it's not, as far as I'm concerned, really frightening.

Clearly, I'm in the minority. Between The Rite and The Last Exorcism and a few other recent examples, exorcism horror movies are relatively popular. (Or at least Hollywood thinks they are.) Maybe it's because of the recent scandals in the Catholic Church? Whatever reason, I go to these films mostly preparing to have a miserable time. There are few things worse than watching a horror movie whose central concept just makes you irritable.

2. Is it time to retire the found-footage gimmick?

This may be a strange thing for me to say. I actually liked Apollo 18, and I remain a fan of the Paranormal Activity films. But with PA, as I've written about previously, I would argue that the films' found-footage conceit isn't really what's scary about those movies: It's the way the conceit forces you to look around the screen with the knowledge that something horrible is there somewhere. As for Apollo 18, the filmmakers' decision to design the movie as leaked footage from a doomed moon mission is actually executed pretty well technically, even though I'm pretty sure the film as a whole cost about 10 bucks to make. But what's really scary about Apollo 18, unlike The Devil Inside, is that it does play into universal fears in grimly effective ways. Claustrophobia, fear of drowning/smothering/suffocating, fear of creepy-crawly things ... Apollo 18 doesn't win any prizes for originality but it at least knows what horrors it's tapping into. Did it need to be camouflaged as a found-footage film? Probably not.

Washed Out - "Eyes Be Closed"

Washed Out (real name Ernest Greene) has acquired a bit of fame due to the fact that his "Feel It All Around" is used as the theme song to Portlandia. But his 2011 debut album, Within and Without, which was released after "Feel It All Around," is darn good and worth checking out. Here's the opening track, "Eyes Be Closed."

'Beneath the Darkness' review

January. It's a terrible time for new movies. (Although that's not entirely true: Once Upon a Time in Anatolia hits theaters this month.) But more often than not you've got junk like Beneath the Darkness. It's a low-budget thriller starring Dennis Quaid as a small-time mortician who's Up To No Good. Dreadful, dreadful stuff. By the way, the film's press notes point out that Beneath the Darkness was filmed in the same Texas town that The Tree of Life was. So, you know, there's something. My review is up at The Village Voice.

The Zombies - "This Will Be Our Year"

See everybody in 2012.

Radiohead - "Lotus Flower"

Happy holidays, folks. This isn't the best or worst video of 2011, but it's the one I'll probably remember the most as feeling like 2011.

'The Flowers of War' review

The Flowers of War is the second Chinese production to hit the U.S. this year about the Nanjing Massacre. The first was the brilliant, unforgettable City of Life and Death. The latest is The Flowers of War, the mediocre new drama from director Zhang Yimou and star Christian Bale. You can't fault the intentions, but you sure can fault the execution, which has a lot to do with Zhang's overly bombastic, spectacle-rich storytelling style. Everything's too operatic, too showy -- and yet, weirdly, it hardly resonates at all. I reviewed The Flowers of War for The Village Voice.

Wye Oak - "Holy Holy"

With Pazz & Jop just around the corner, I'm working on my list of the year's best albums and songs. Which led me back to Wye Oak's Civilian. Great stuff ... here's "Holy Holy."

'Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked' review

The day before this year's LAFCA awards vote, I spent time watching Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked. Well, you can't say I'm not thorough when it comes to making sure I see just about everything out there in the world of movies. And I have to admit that Chipwrecked isn't the worst thing I've seen all year. Top Five, definitely, but not the worst. I reviewed the film for Screen International, which allowed me to at least say a few nice things about Jenny Slate, who does the best she can in this tediously terrible kids' movie. Hey, a girl needs to earn a living, right?

'The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo' review

Yup, that's Rooney Mara as Lisbeth Salander in the American version of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, a movie I liked quite a lot. I definitely prefer it to the original Swedish version from a few years ago, although I wish David Fincher's new take ended a little better than it does. (Honestly, I wish both movies had better endings.) Do I think Dragon Tattoo needs to be over two-and-a-half-hours long? Not really: As popular as the original books are, these don't quite seem like epic stories that require that sort of extended running time. Still, it's Fincher being Fincher, which is more than good enough for me. My review is up at Screen International.

Albert Pujols Is No Longer a Cardinal

The news I'd been expecting since the final out of the World Series happened Thursday: Albert Pujols left the St. Louis Cardinals to sign with another team, the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. Unlike some Cardinal fans, I'm taking the news in stride. I think it makes sense for St. Louis not to be burdened with an expensive contract that will carry Pujols through his later, less-effective years. Rick Chandler over at NBC Sports asked me (among others) to react to the Pujols news. You can read that here.

Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks - "No One Is (As I Are Be)"

Yeah, I still love the guy after all this time. And who can resist these lines: "I cannot even do one sit-up. Sit-ups are so bourgeoisie"?

'Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol' review

To call the new Mission: Impossible the best of the series isn't that much of a stretch. To be honest, I've never really loved any of them. (Before this one, I would have probably gone with the J.J. Abrams third installment simply because it was the least ponderous and/or self-important.) But director Brad Bird puts together some pretty fantastic action sequences in Ghost Protocol. And Tom Cruise remains forever young. And, good lord, the IMAX is just stunning: I see now why Christopher Nolan wanted to do The Dark Knight Rises in IMAX instead of 3D. My Ghost Protocol review is up at Screen International.

'New Year's Eve' review

For what it's worth, I didn't think Valentine's Day was the worst thing in the world. Now, that's not to say that I liked it — the last sentence of Karina Longworth's review sums it up pretty nicely — but, trust me, I've seen far, far worse. Like New Year's Eve, for instance, which made me hate my life and everything that's good and decent. It's not that this latest comedy from Garry Marshall is incompetent and lazy: It's that it's insufferably smug about it. I rip into the film over at Screen International.

Saying Goodbye to The Projector

Today, I got the sad news that Yahoo is pulling the plug on The Projector, the film site I ran with Will Leitch. As many of you know, Will and I grew up together and have been passionate about movies from an early age. Getting to run a site with a lifelong friend was a dream come true, and so you can imagine how heartbroken I am at the moment.

Still, I'd like to take a moment to thank Mark Lisanti and Courtney Reimer for being great editors. It was a pleasure, you guys, and I'm glad to have been part of this endeavor with you.

Also, I wanted to thank everyone who has reached out to let me know how much they enjoyed the site. It means a lot. You have no idea what a fantastic time Will and I had every day at The Projector.

It really isn't my style to be too self-promotional -- even writing this blog post makes me a little queasy -- but I want to say that, fear not, I'll continue to be writing reviews for Screen International.

And, seriously, Will: What a blast that was. Let's do it again soon.

Chic - "I Want Your Love"

Seriously, see Shame as soon as you can. A fantastic film. In honor of Shame, let's do some "I Want Your Love," which shows up on the movie's soundtrack.

'coriolanus' review

Ralph Fiennes is an absolute monster in the bloody, gripping Coriolanus. It's the sort of Shakespeare adaptation that inspires "this isn't your mother's Coriolanus" kinds of raves, but it is a movie that feels vital and engaging in ways that some recent Bard remakes haven't. My review is up at Yahoo.