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MOVIE REVIEW

The Simpsons Movie

B+

After 18 years and 400 episodes (and an endless parade of merchandise tie-ins), The Simpsons makes its multiplex debut, forcing even walnut-brained Homer to acknowledge the screamingly obvious, “We’re paying for something we can get on TV for free!”

Hence the big question: Can The Simpsons Movie, even with its enhanced animation, justify its own big screen existence? The short answer: Sorta. Given that the long-running cartoon can indulge in any plot its talented writers can imagine (and network standards allow), it’s a daunting task to create something wholly original and cinematic. And though the short (86 minutes) and breezy film is predictably clever, occasionally brilliant and unfailingly entertaining it still feels very much like an elongated episode.

Which is the best way to sum up The Simpsons Movie; consider its three acts as separate episodes (though they all feed a single story). For its first half hour, we’re in classic fourth or fifth season territory. There’s a joke every few seconds (and several more in the background) as clever sight gags and hilarious asides zip from one marvelously funny set piece to the next. Slapstick violence, self-referential one-liners and bits about closet homosexuality, Hillary Clinton, Christian moralizing, senility, and Fox TV come fast and furious. The sheer density of brash wit and irreverence is breathless to behold.

Once the second act plot mechanics kick in, however, the punch lines are fewer and farther between. Conflict and exposition slow things down and though there are a few inspired moments — especially Bart’s skateboard ride through Springfield — the movie loses the furious zing of its opening. Instead, each member of the family (except Maggie, of course) gets his or her own subplot, allowing their stories to weave together in ways the 22-minute television show could never achieve. The movie trades big laughs for greater emotional connection between its characters as Bart’s quest for a more attentive father and Marge’s doubts about her marriage produce some surprisingly moving moments. Hearing Homer admit, “I just try and make the day not hurt until I can crawl back into bed with you,” is a line worthy of the sweetest romantic comedy.

When the final act of the film finally roles around, The Simpsons falls into a tug of war between standard-issue comedy and the need to neatly wrap things up. Valuable lessons are learned, set-ups cleverly pay off and Homer once again saves Springfield from a calamity only he could create. At its end, The Simpsons Movie feels very much like a Simpsons episode, even if Marge yells “Goddamn!” and Otto takes a hit off his bong.

You'd think a PG-13 rating would liberate the show's writers, allowing them to venture into risqué territory without fear of network censors. Truth is, The Simpson Movie indulges in the verboten exactly three times: The aforementioned drug reference and profanity at its finale and an earlier bit of nudity (which provides one the movie’s biggest laughs).

This overly modest exploitation is what keeps The Simpsons Movie from truly rising to the occasion. It’s not that it isn’t funny, it’s that it’s funny in a familiar way; 18 years familiar. Most audience members are accustomed to the show’s innovative tone and style and this, unfortunately, dulls its comedic edges. The movie squanders an opportunity to land some outrageous punches and, perhaps, push the venerable cartoon into new territory ala' South Park: Bigger, Longer And Uncut. Unlike Parker and Stone, who used the success of their filthy big screen debut to breathe profane (and musical) life into their weekly show, The Simpsons Movie is too timid and self-aware. Heck, even the opening Itchy And Scratchy cartoon has less bite than many primetime episodes. If that isn't call for a resounding chorus of "D’Oh," I don't know what is.

NET NEUTRALITY NINJA STYLE

Here is the best explanation I've heard so far. He lays for you why you should support this and oppose all legislation that favors corporate dominance. Please, email your Congressmen and Senator. Tell them you support net neutrality and expect them to do likewise!

Generation: Chickenhawk

As I suspected, College Repubs are a bunch of selfish, unpatriotic whimps who are more than willing to send others to fight for their right to party. Oh, and they're also repressed homosexuals. Pathetic.





Okay, in entertainment news... JJ Abrams has some top secret movie coming out in January that they don't even have a title for yet. Before the screening of Transformers (I gave it a B-) they ran this trailer. I'm hooked.

BTW whaddaya think of the new design? Comments welcomed.

MAC VS PC

I love this almost as much as I hate the real commercials (even though I adore John Hodgeman)

FROM THE OTHER JEFF

Jeff Sherwood is the brother I never had (or killed in the womb before birth). Anyway, he sends me all sorts of anecdotes, links and Internet oddities. This was the latest:

I usually don't send out these kinds of stories but this modern-day Aesop's Fable is particularly poignant:

In 1986, Mkele Mbembe was on holiday in Kenya after graduating from college. On a hike through the bush, he came across a young bull elephant standing with one leg raised in the air.

The elephant seemed distressed so Mbembe approached it very carefully. He got down on one knee and inspected the elephant's foot, and found a large thorn deeply embedded in it.

As carefully and as gently as he could, Mbembe worked the thorn outwith his hunting knife, after which the elephant gingerly put down itsfoot.

The elephant turned to face the man and with a rather stern look onits face, stared at him. For several tense moments Mbembe stood frozen, thinking of nothing else but being trampled. Eventually the elephant trumpeted loudly, turned and walked away.

Mbembe never forgot that elephant or the events of that day. Twentyyears later he was walking through a zoo with his teenaged son. As they approached the elephant enclosure, one of the creatures turnedand walked over to near where Mbembe and his son Tapu were standing. The large bull elephant stared at Mbembe and lifted its front foot offthe ground, then trumpeted loudly, all the while staring at the man.

Remembering the encounter in 1986, Mbembe couldn't help wondering if this was the same elephant. Mbembe summoned up his courage, climbed over the railing and made his way into the enclosure. He walked right up to the elephant and stared back in wonder. Suddenly the elephant trumpeted again, wrapped its trunk around one of the man's legs and swung him wildly back and forth slamming him repeatedly against the railing, then tossing his lifeless body to the ground.

Probably wasn't the same elephant....

POLITICAL HAY

So, with all the horse racing that's going on, 2008 is shaping up to be a bitter battle of oversized egos. The fact is, anyone who thinks they should be President has to be a bit of an ego maniac.

That said, there are certainly more and less appealing ego maniacs. For my money right now, John Edwards is the candidate of choice. To be honest, I'd be okay with any of the top three Democrats but Edwards is the only one that's been puttng out substantial policies and positions. He's also the only one talking about poverty and the vast economic disparity that's crippling this country. Most importantly, he's the only one to say he never should have given Bush the authority to go to war. He accepts responsibility for voting to authorize force and says it was a mistake. Only he and John Kerry (as far as I know) have done that. Heck, Hillary still justifies her vote... a vote that she backed up with these statements:

"Intelligence reports show that Saddam Hussein has worked to rebuild his chemical and biological weapons stock, his missile delivery capability, and his nuclear program . . . "

"If left unchecked, Saddam Hussein will continue to increase his capacity to wage biological and chemical warfare, and will keep trying to develop nuclear weapons. Should he succeed in that endeavor, he could alter the political and security landscape of the Middle East, which as we know all too well affects American security. "

Saddam has "given aid, comfort, and sanctuary to terrorists, including Al Qaeda members,”

Which are not that far off from Bush's pre-war claims. It's like they called each other beforehand to see what the other would say.

Look, I'd love to see a woman or black President. Obama and Hillary are clearly smart people who will, in many ways, support policies I agree with (Obama more than Hillary... who is actually quite conservative). So, I have to balance my desire to see historical firsts against the virtues of the candidates running.

Ultimately, my problem with Hillary and Obama is that they never stake out firm territory on any issue. About a year and half ago Molly Ivins --a brilliant and caustic wit whose writing I will sorely miss-- expressed most of my reservations with Hillary. Her essential criticism was that Clinton acted as if triangulation were a position. It's not. It's a political tactic. Hillary, time and again, refuses to lead on almost any issue. She hems and haws and talks a good game but rarely sets the bar on, well, anything. It's all about calculating the odds and appealing to the widest audience and never ever admitting you made a mistake. But Molly said it so much better than I.

Obama, is almost as bad. He seems to be in a contest with Hillary over who will blink first on the issues. I like that he's trying to avoid partisan politics but, dude, give us a straight answer on something and lead on an issue, any issue, just once. I really evaluate my candidates by their ability to directly answer questions asked of them and neither Obama or Hillary will do that.

Check out how each of the three answered questions about the environment from Move On. Only Edwards would commit to a 35 mpg standard for cars. Actually, he said he supported 40 mpg. Comapre candidate answers here.

So, for now, Edwards gets my support. I don't like everything about him but I certainly like his personal story, his willingness to put forward strong positions and his ability to directly answer many of the questions put to him.

Which brings me to the haircut. I mean, come on. Are you going to tell me Hillary doesn't pay big bucks for her ever-changing stylings? That Mitt Romney doesn't have a staff of primpers? Here's an interesting question: Why did the media make such a big deal of Edwards $300 haircut but totally ignore Romney's $300 make-up artist? Read about it here.

You know what really gives me the creeps about that Romney guy? He looks like a game show host. A creepy game show host. And he believes Jesus took a boat to America.

If the message is that these guys are vain...well, duh! They think they should be President. What I care about is how they'll handle the job. To figure that out they need to give me straight, decisive answers. Edwards. more often than not, does that.

End of political ramble. More fun posts coming...

MOVIE REVIEW

Harry Potter And The Order Of The Phoenix

A-

Right from its beginning, as dark clouds swirl around the Warner Brothers logo and the fanfare takes on an ominous tone, it's clear that Harry Potter And The Order Of The Phoenix has left the dewy-eyed awe of childhood magic and entered the brooding angst of adolescent powerlessness.

Over the last four films Harry has grown from an insecure neophyte marveling at the wonder of magic into a focused young man who has come to understand that sorcery is something dangerous and to be feared. Director David Yates underlines this realization by delivering the gloomiest installment in the Potter series yet.

Embracing the essential Englishness of Rowling's stories and evoking the angry young men of late 60s British cinema, Harry is depicted as alienated and exhausted. The unrelenting attacks and loss of family and friends have taken a profound emotional toll. Depressed by schoolmate Diggory's death at the end of The Goblet Of Fire, Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) now finds himself accused by the Ministry of Magic of lying about his confrontation with Lord Voldemort (Ralph Fiennes). Though his friends stand by him, the adults refuse to believe and the students at Hogwarts' treat him like a leper. If that weren't bad enough, the Minister, paranoid Dumbledore (Michael Gambon) is after his job, sends Dolores Umbridge (Imelda Staunton) to the school as its Homeland Security director… er…Grand Inquisitor.

Before long creepy but prim Dolores wrests control of Hogwarts from Dumbledore and trains her sights on marginalizing Harry. But Voldemort and his legion of Death Eaters are on the move and Harry must teach his fellow students to defend themselves against the gathering dark forces. Unfortunately, Umbridge is determined to put an end to his secret magic lessons while Voldemort seeks the prophecy that may end Harry's life.

Clearly a transitional work, Order of the Phoenix masterfully unspools miles of exposition but suffers from an episodic narrative that suggests many of the 800+ page book's subplots and flourishes had to be jettisoned to bring things in under 2 and 1/2 hours. Still, while this may be the first Harry Potter movie unable to stand on its own –there are too many references to earlier characters and situations— it’s also the first to truly feel epic in scope. There's a gathering storm quality to the events that suggests a monstrous confrontation looms on the horizon and Michael Goldenberg’s lucid and fleet-footed adaptation (the first in the series not scripted by Steve Kloves) unfolds with terrifying momentum, resulting in a compelling and emotionally resonant film.

Still, by their very nature, the Harry Potter films are constrained by compromise. Because of the book's unprecedented popularity, each film comes to a predictable and, often, upbeat conclusion. It's to Yates and Goldenberg's considerable credit this installment leaves you with a feeling of loss and isolation long after the screen goes dark.

And just as the characters in Harry Potter have matured in age, the films have matured in depth and style. With each new movie the directors seem less intimidated by the books and freer to impose their own artistic sensibilities. Alfonso Cuaron (The Prisoner of Azkaban) could probably be credited with giving the series a stylistic kick in the pants and Yates is clearly building on that freedom. He may not have Cuaron's filmmaking prowess but he gives Order Of The Phoenix greater substance, deepening the characters' relationships and emotions. Visually, he finds his perfect match with Polish cinematographer Slawomir Idziak (Blue, The Double Life of Veronique), who paints every scene in malevolently lush palette of grays and blues, providing yet another layer of subtext.

Equally impressive is Yates' supporting cast. A veritable who's who of great British actors --Emma Thompson, Maggie Smith, Robbie Coltraine, Brendan Gleeson, Helena Bonham Carter, David Thewles, Alan Rickman and Gary Oldman-- add spice and color as they expertly walk the line between camp and conviction. Fiennes, as the face of evil, chews the scenery with depraved glee, creating a monster with real weight. Meanwhile Staunton's pink-suited Dolores Umbridge is exquisitely tyrannical as a bureaucratic sadist.

The younger stars have matured over the last six years and Radcliffe and Rupert Grint (as Ron Weasley) have developed into skillful performers. While Emma Watson (as Hermione) never rises above adequate, she has, at least, stopped acting with her eyebrows.

Unlike this summer's other blockbusters, Order Of The Phoenix won't necessarily blow you away you with bombast and spectacle, though there are moments --particularly a sorcerous showdown between Dumbledore and Voldemort-- that are impressively exciting. Instead, the film's careful attention to drama proves very satisfying. Something the other blockbusters have failed to do. More importantly, this chapter in the Harry Potter series finally leaves you hungering for the next installment.

MOVIE REVIEW

Sicko

A

The argument usually goes that the right has Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, Ann Coulter, Bill O’Reilly, etc, etc and the left has Al Franken, Keith Olbermann, and Michael Moore. Now, there’s a case to be made for Franken and Olbermann but for Moore, not so much.

Though his politics are unmistakably left, the documentarian’s targets are almost exclusively the powerful and his work is fueled by optimism rather than cynicism. That last comment may be hard to swallow for many who bristle at his manipulative tactics, but the truth is Moore, like many muckrakers before him, tirelessly defends the little guy while speaking truth to power. Sure, he’s about as “fair and balanced” as Fox News, but his eternal hopefulness that America, once confronted with the truth, will do what is necessary to change things for the better, is rather refreshing.

No place is this sentiment more clear than his latest documentary, Sicko. Heartfelt, entertaining and, often eye-opening, this blistering but scattershot portrait of the corrupt, cruel and crazy US health care system demonstrates the obscene challenges to getting basic health coverage while presenting an engaging argument for universal care.

As Moore makes clear in his opening, Sicko isn’t training it sites on the policies that have left 50 million Americans uninsured but rather on the many people who dutiful pay their premiums each month only to enter a bureaucratic hell of insurance pre-approvals, denials of care, and contractual ‘gotchas’. Whether it’s the unconscious car accident victim who was told her ambulance ride wasn’t pre-approved or the woman denied care because she didn’t disclose a common yeast infection many years earlier, these Kafkaesque scenarios earn both our disgust and uncomfortable laughter in equal doses.

Smartly, Moore keeps himself off screen for Sicko’s first 40 minutes, letting ordinary Americans relate how they or family members have been abused, cheated and even killed by a system that puts profits before care. In fact, in one of the film’s more revelatory moments, Moore plays a tape recording of Richard Nixon cutting the deal that allows Edgar Kaiser to systematically provide less health care for more money. More damning is Nixon’s cynically press conference the very next day, heralding the policy as a path to universal health coverage. Worse, we are introduced to physicians who are paid big bucks to concoct reasons to deny large claims –labeling a procedure experimental is a popular choice-- and bean counters who comb through policy applications and medical records to find mistakes they can call fraud.

Having demonstrated the profound failings of our system, Sicko then heads to Canada, England, France and Cuba to see how their methods fare in comparison and ends up debunking many of the partisan myths about “socialized medicine.” With more than a bit of irony, he goes after claims about the evils of socialism by demonstrating how Americans benefit every day from “socialized” institutions like police stations, fire departments, libraries, schools and post offices. While it’s fair to say Moore presents an overly rosy view of the foreign healthcare systems (especially Cuba’s), he asks a profoundly important question: “If they can do it, why can’t we?”

The film comes close to an answer in an interview with a former member of the British Parliament, Tony Benn. Benn claims that the UK overhauled health care in response to the devastation of World War II. Bankrupt and demoralized, the country’s leaders saw a commitment to socialized care as demonstration of unity and compassion. Though I’m paraphrasing, the rationale was that Britain should invest at least as much in the well-being of its citizens as it does in the killing of enemies.

In contrast, Moore suggests that the US government refused such a commitment out of communist paranoia and a desire to maintain power. Benn posits that democracy works best when governments fear their people rather than the other way around. This is why we see regular mass demonstrations in England and France while Americans are either too afraid or complacent to protest our nation’s most egregious offenses. It’s this commentary that elevates Sicko past Moor’s trademark populist shenanigans and into the realm of serious discourse.

Unfortunately, Moore is still his own worst enemy. Too often he asks questions he clearly knows the answer to and engages in questionable theatrics. The worst of these is when he brings forsaken 9-11 responders to Cuba for care the US has shamefully refused to provide. While his bigger point about how we treat our heroes is well taken, the stunt is shamelessly crass and glosses over a multitude of important issues. Given how important and insightful much of Sicko is, it’s frustrating to see the filmmaker provide his critics with such obvious ammunition.

Though the partisan will dismiss Moore’s film as more leftwing propaganda, there’s no denying the endlessly heartbreaking examples of American citizens brutally abused by our country’s health care system. When visiting Canadians feel obliged to take out insurance because they fear they’ll end up caught in our system, you know something is very very wrong. If only for the conversations it will provoke, Sicko is essential viewing and not to be missed.

MOVIE REVIEW

Ratatouille

A


There are so many reasons why Pixar has become the gold standard for CG animation it’s probably more instructive to examine why pretenders to the throne fail so miserably. Take Dreamworks, for instance. They struggle to imitate Pixar’s successes by creating sly alternative realities where zoo animals or sharks or fairy tale monsters crack wise in thinly veiled spoofs of our own world. But capping on Starbucks or mocking The Dating Game is cheap and easy, resulting in laughs that have a six-month half-life. Films like Shrek 3 and A Shark's Tale endlessly remind you of their satirical ‘wit’ because the truth is they have nothing else to offer. Worse, these kid’s flicks are treated like bloated commercials for merchandise tie-ins and pop music soundtracks. The story, the characters, the setting – nothing is organic. Product “synergy” is the reason Smashmouth’s top 40 hit became the anthem for a fairy tale ogre, not art.


Which is why writer/director Brad Bird’s Ratatouille is so sublimely inspirational. With its underlying message of savoring the unknown, following your passion and striving for excellence, it’s difficult to imagine his characters peddling Happy Meals. In fact, this tale of a rat who yearns to be a chef pointedly criticizes the crass exploitation of personality and talent. And above all its other achievements, this is what Pixar does best: presenting complicated themes and emotions into a children’s film. The company trusts its audience to follow along; challenging them to embrace ideas most adult films won’t touch with a ten-foot pole.


Bird, in particular, excels at this. His first foray into animated features was the overlooked masterpiece, The Iron Giant, an exciting and affecting tale of a weapon that refuses to accept its reason for being and instead embraces humanity and friendship. The Incredibles, Bird’s follow up, used its superhero trappings to examine what it means to be special and how that impacts society. What makes these and all of Pixar’s films (with the possible exception of Cars) stand out is the belief that story matters as much as the animation.


Remy (voiced by Patton Oswald) is a country rat living in France who longs to escape a life of garbage picking and dumpster diving. Inspired by the French Chef Gusteau (Brad Garrett), he takes to heart the famous cook’s rallying cry: “Anyone Can Cook!” and pines for the day he can put his palette and talent for flavor to work, creating culinary masterpieces. Ah, cruel fate, to be a great chef trapped in a rat’s body! Luckily, fate reconsiders Remy’s plight and separates him from his father (Brian Dennehy) and brother (Peter Sohn), depositing him on the doorstep of his hero’s 3-star (formerly 5-star) bistro. It turns out, infamous food critic, Anton Ego (Peter O’Toole), savaged Gusteau’s reputation in a review and the chef died of a broken heart. Now, run by his tyrannical and exploitative assistant, Skinner (Ian Holm), the restaurant has become the uninspired flagship for a line of tacky frozen microwave dinners. Enter garbage-boy Linguini (Lou Romano) who is rescued from unemployment when Remy salvages the soup he’s accidentally ruined. A partnership is struck: using the boy as his marionette, Remy will cook and Linguini will keep his job and, maybe, win the love of no-nonsense female chef, Colette (a shockingly good Janeane Garofalo).


Once again Pixar drops you into a beautifully realized universe that is as familiar as it is fantastical. The breathtaking animation is so good you can be forgiven for taking it for granted as clever plot twists, expert voice work and incisive wit pull you in. Ratatouille’s lush Paris locales are remarkably detailed and wholly convincing while its exaggerated characters burst with personality and life. Remy is so convincingly rendered you can see his tiny heart beating beneath his blue-furred chest. Heck, even the computer-animated food looks delicious.


Thankfully, Ratatouille never relies on pop culture references or crass satire to get its laughs. It creates comedy on its own terms. Each character has humor and heart, demonstrating unexpected flaws and emotional depth, surprising us with their insecurities and overreactions. Remy and the gang are certainly more real than anyone in Pirates Of The Caribbean or Fantastic Four and there are times when you simply forget you’re watching computer-animated characters.


Though it probably won’t rate for kids as one of Pixar’s best (unless you've got a budding foodie in your house), Ratatouille features enough ingeniously choreographed chases and slapstick gags to keep their eyes glued to the screen. But what makes Bird’s efforts so special –almost subversive-- is the way he demonstrates the way passions blossom. When’s the last time you saw a film convey to kids that life is to be experienced and that there is pleasure in that experience? He dares his audience to stop shoveling food into their mouths and actually savor what theyre eating. Whether it’s food or music or books, these things feed our souls and that’s what Ratatouille boasts: real soul.

all reviews first appeared in Detroit's Metro Times