Fair Game

"Fair Game," based on the story of Valerie Plame and Joe Wilson, feels like a dubious proposition. We already know that the Bush Administration went to war with Iraq on trumped up intelligence. We also know that Wilson and Plame were unfairly targeted by the Administration. What could we learn from a movie on the subject?

More than you might expect--at least in the first half of the film. "Fair Game" shows us the lead up to war from the vantage point of the CIA. It shows us how data were collected and how the Administration interfered with the process. Even better, it shows how the Administration could possibly have convinced itself that Saddam Hussein might have a nuclear weapons program. All in all, it's a more realistic view of spying than you're likely to get from most Hollywood movies.

Unfortunately, the second half of "Fair Game" isn't so enlightening. Wilson attacks the President's claim that Hussein purchased yellowcake uranium from Niger. In retaliation, Administration officials leak the information that Wilson's wife, Plame, is a CIA officer. It's a fairly rote rehashing of the facts.

The movie turns into a marital drama, as Wilson fights back against his wife's wishes. Finally, the film ends on a pretty preachy note, using the kind of heavy-handed monologues it had wisely avoided until that point.

"Fair Game" ends up as a solid political thriller. A film that focused more on the CIA would have been much more valuable. Still, as anyone who has seen "W" can attest, this movie could have been a lot worse.

50/50

In the past year, I've reviewed "Love and Other Drugs" and "It's Kind of a Funny Story" in this space. Those movies failed because they couldn't decide what they wanted to be. They mixed comedy and drama without ever committing to one. And while it's fine to have a funny drama or a dramatic comedy, in the end you can't fit into both genres. A movie's message can't be both funny and in earnest.

"50/50" succeeds because it does commit. While it is famously a funny movie about cancer, as the movie builds to its climax it assumes a gravity that comedies cannot. It refuses to shy away from its tragic subject matter.

"50/50" centers on Adam (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), who learns he has a rare form of cancer at 26. But it's really about the people around Adam, and how they fail him. His best friend Kyle (Seth Rogen) makes so many jokes about the situation that it's hard to tell if he really grasps it. His girlfriend Racheal (Bryce Dallas Howard) is totally unequipped to handle his care. His mother (Anjelica Huston) worries so much that she makes things worse.

"50/50" isn't about the jokes. It isn't even really about cancer. It's about the challenge of helping someone through a crisis. Too often, we give victims what we think they want instead of listening to what they need. This makes us feel better rather than those we intend to aid.

The movie has its share of flaws. "50/50" follows the irritating Hollywood trend of using pop songs to score its most serious moments. These songs--particularly because of their lyrics--add a lot of unearned sentiment that a film can drown in. When Adam learns he has cancer, it's a powerful moment. When Radiohead's "High and Dry" kicks in immediately after, it becomes too powerful.

For a good movie, "50/50" also has a lot of issues with its characters. Seth Rogen is on notice--he needs to develop some more tools. His cuddly frat boy schtick is starting to get old. In addition, Adam is a bit thin as a character. Screenwriter and real-life cancer survivor Will Reiser is much better at depicting the flaws of friends and family than at examining the character based on himself. Meanwhile, Rachael is rather unnecessarily portrayed as being heartless.

But none of that can obscure the fact that "50/50" has its heart and head in the right place. It delivers an important message that a truly comic take on cancer couldn't deliver.

As Good As It Gets

There is one heartbreaking scene in "As Good As It Gets." Jack Nicholson's character has just returned a dog he had been watching for a few weeks to its owner. He had formed a special bond with the animal. He begins laughing at himself, saying "Over a dog," but the laughter quickly turns to tears. The cheer is somehow indistinguishable from the sadness.

It's a painful moment, but not for the reason the filmmakers intended. What's tragic about the scene is that Nicholson is wasting his tremendous talent on a piece of feel good pap.

"As Good As It Gets" stars Nicholson as Melvin, an obsessive compulsive writer who doesn't know how to love. His favorite waitress, Carol (Helen Hunt), desperately needs a boyfriend to break up the monotony of caring for her asthmatic young son. His neighbor, Simon (Greg Kinnear), is a cheerful artist who doesn't know how to stand up for himself. Can you guess how these people's lives will be changed in two hours?

But wait, there's more! "As Good As It Gets" isn't just an inspirational drama, it's also a comedy! Unfortunately, the wit in this movie is about at the level of "Dude, Where's My Car?" The jokes are either awkwardly staged, as when Carol's fellow waitresses freeze in mock horror when she suggests that Melvin wait for a table, or based on bodily humor, as when Melvin crushes his crotch while moving his car seat up. (Men have penises, haha!)

Before seeing this movie, I learned that it had garnered seven Oscar nominations. I wasn't sure if this was a good sign or a bad sign. My worst fears were confirmed. The nominations are like cruel jokes. Best Editing for a movie that's a half hour too long! Best Score to Hollywood hackmeister Hans Zimmer! Best Screenplay for a script with no subtlety, nuance, or interesting ideas! Somehow there's no directing nomination, despite a good seven or eight teary monologues which get the zoom-in treatment.

This brings us to the movie's two wins, for Best Actress and Best Actor. Helen Hunt does her best to elevate some lame material, but she's not Oscar-worthy. Nicholson, on the other hand, is very good. And the "Best Actor" is not like a "Most Valuable Player" award in sports, where you can argue that a player is only valuable if his team is good. So Jack's win may have been justified--but it's still depressing to see him waste his talents on such forgettable material.

Product Placement

Product placement has been around in movies since the silent era, or so Wikipedia tells me. The earliest movie in which I can recall seeing product placement is 1967's "Point Blank." Lee Marvin turns on a television and watches a commercial. (I believe it's for panty hose.) Not very subtle.

More recently, product placement has become both more profuse and more tolerable. In fact, I think it can actually add realism to a film. Who cares if a character is drinking a Heineken? In real life, people drink Heineken.

Lately, filmmakers have been finding new ways to stick products in their films. "Talladega Nights" uses product placement to make fun of product placement, as when Will Ferrell mentions his sponsor, Powerade, while saying Sunday grace.

A couple of recent films use product placement to help define their characters. In "The Other Guys," Ferrell's character is a pansy in part because he drives a Prius. Similarly, Steve Carrell's character in "Crazy, Stupid, Love." is a dork in part because he wears 504 New Balances and buys jeans at The Gap.

These money-raising efforts seem reasonable. However, the Farrelly brothers' most recent film, "Hall Pass," goes even farther to plug products. When Owen Wilson's character wants a steak, he asks, "What better place to do it than right here?"--at Applebee's, where he's gone to pick up women. Later in the film, Jason Sudeikis tells Wilson, "Your wife wanted to cook, so you bought her a Viking." Dejected, Wilson sighs, "I got her a GE." It's a moment that's supposed to demonstrate how he's let his wife down. But it could easily be a radio ad from the '40s. And when Sudeikis and Wilson get high, Sudeikis complements Wilson on his smooth skin, which Wilson credits to his Dove soap.

These exchanges are more than product placement. I would call them product endorsement. They're grating because people don't actually talk about how great a brand is. These plugs take us out of the film and force us to watch a brief ad for a product using the same characters with whom we're supposed to be identifying in the story.

Still, product placement--or even endorsement--isn't going away any time soon, especially in one particular genre. All of the more recent films I mentioned were comedies. American comedies are now struggling to get financing because they don't translate well abroad. Overseas grosses are becoming ever more lucrative and important for a film. This trend favors blockbusters--Michael Bay speaks the universal language of boobs and bombs--over films that rely more on culture-specific wit and subtlety.

So, do the ends justify the means? Is a good film worth making if it has to be paid for by egregious product placement? So far, I would have to say yes. I love "Point Blank." If the advertisement was necessary to finance it, then so be it. Still, I'm bracing myself for the day when we see a film with a close-up of Shia LeBouf drinking a Budweiser in slow motion with pretty girls on both arms.

The Color of Money

"The Color of Money" has disaster written all over it. It's an unnecessary sequel to the much-loved classic "The Hustler," which starred Paul Newman as an ace pool player. This time around, Newman is a mentor to the frequently irritating Tom Cruise. (Here he sports a ridiculous haircut and twirls his cue around like a samurai staff. It's not hard to imagine why he took the role.) Behind the camera is Martin Scorcese, who typically works on passion projects, not studio-hire stuff like this.

And yet "The Color of Money" sings, thanks to the pairing of Newman and Scorcese. Newman is literally the perfect actor for this role, possessing all the poise and self-assurance needed to sell himself to both Cruise and the audience. Scorcese brings his signature verve and energy to the pool hall, turning potentially dull or hackneyed scenes into visual thrills. (Although it must be said that Scorcese's longtime musical consultant/composer, Robbie Robertson of The Band, contributes a dreadful score.)

Beyond the technical stuff, "The Color of Money" works thanks to its unorthodox plot. This isn't your typical sports movie, where a young up-and-comer takes on a longtime champion/asshole. Instead, "The Color of Money" is about the conflict between passion and pragmatism. A born competitor, Cruise is only interested in destroying the competition. But as Newman teaches him, constant winners can't make much money in pool; pretty soon, no one wants to play them. To make money, a hustler has to deliberately lose for a while. Then, once his competitor gets too cocky, he brings his A game to win back his money and then some.

That's a profitable hustle, but it's contrary to the spirit of the game. And that's what "The Color of Money" is about--not who wins, but what the mentality of the players is. It's a sports movie where the outcomes don't matter. Pretty refreshing.

Drive Angry

I'm not usually a fan of the "so bad it's good" argument for films. Don't get me wrong--bad movies can be hilarious at times. But once the novelty of their awfulness wears off, you're just stuck watching a crappy film.

"Drive Angry" is an excellent example of this. The first 30 minutes have plenty of funny moments. Many of these revolve around 47-year-old, balding Nic Cage evidently being irresistible to women. His ridiculous badassery reaches its peak when he shoots about ten men while having sex with a woman. Did I mention he is smoking a cigar while doing this? And that he takes a swig of Jack Daniels immediately after the shooting? And that, just before firing, he tells the woman "I never disrobe before a gunfight"?

After that hilarious scene, though, the movie settles down and becomes a standard bad action movie, with plenty of drivin' and shootin'. There are lots of dumb plot twists. But once we've adjusted to the fact that the director went to the Michael Bay School of Filmmaking, it stops being funny and starts getting dull.

"Drive Angry" reflects a troubling trend in movies: films that are terrible, but get a pass because their creators know they are terrible. This is how "Drive Angry" gets a 45% rating on Rotten Tomatoes despite being one of the most poorly conceived and executed movies of the year.

Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez have spearheaded this trend with movies like "Grindhouse". Tarantino is so talented that he can take a bad movie premise and elevate it to something greater. But Rodriguez and most of his peers just use the "so bad it's good" excuse to churn out crap. The trend has even extended into music, with awful self-aware acts like LMFAO and Ke$ha.

Sigh. I shouldn't have to make this argument, but here goes. If I draw a stick figure, it's a bad drawing. It doesn't matter if I know the drawing is bad. It's quite possible that the director of "Drive Angry," Patrick Lussier, knew exactly how stupid his movie was when he made it. But that doesn't make his film any better. You can't have your cake and eat it too. And you can't make a bad movie and be celebrated for it.

About Schmidt

If you looked at his filmography from the last nine years, you'd never know that Jack Nicholson was one of the greatest American actors. He's increasingly indulged in outsized roles like the villain in "The Departed" and an unrepentant misogynist in "Something's Gotta Give".

These roles require more outward emotions and bravado, which may seem paradoxical; wouldn't an actor slow down as he aged? But in fact, it requires a lot less energy to deliver this type of performance than the sort of subtle, nuanced work he did in the 1970s.

All of this makes Nicholson's 2003 performance in "About Schmidt" so significant--it represents the last time he really gave a crap. It was the last time he actually tried hard, as opposed to looking like he was trying hard. And the results are fantastic. Playing a recently retired executive, Nicholson gives us a man going through the motions while showing his contempt and frustration beneath the surface. He nails subtle details, like the character's slow, lumbering gait. He also flexes his comedic chops, giving some wonderfully underplayed deadpan reactions.

As good as Nicholson is, though, it shouldn't obscure the rest of Alexander Payne's typically wonderful dramedy. Payne moves effortlessly from the mundane to the moving to the hilarious. Schmidt deals with his nagging wife, goes on an educational road trip ("I met a Native American today, and boy did he open my eyes. Those people got a raw deal."), and meets his daughter's wacky new in-laws. (Four words: Kathy Bates' nude scene. Let me assure you, though, that a few seconds of pain are well worth it for a film this good.)

Things happen, but nothing really changes. And that's what makes the movie so heartbreakingly honest. A more standard indie film would have seen Schmidt turning over a new leaf and becoming a better person. But Schmidt is too old to hit the reset button on his life. He's not going to magically change his relationship with his wife of 42 years or his thirtysomething daughter. Payne and Nicholson give us plenty of laughs, but they insist on making us face the awful truth.