A Dangerous Method (2011)

David Cronenberg’s first film since 2007′s uneven mob thriller Eastern Promises, A Dangerous Method seems destined to confound and divide nearly both seasoned fans and casual moviegoers. Considerably more austere and literary than any of his previous work, while retaining his intense interest in the human animal, Method is at once slyly subversive and carefully measured in its approach to both theme and historicity.

Method, which spans roughly a decade, opens in 1904 Vienna, where budding psychoanalyst Carl Jung (Michael Fassbender) has agreed to take on Sabina Spielrein (Keira Knightley) as a patient in order to test a psychoanalytic technique invented but apparently heretofore untried by Sigmund Freud (Viggo Mortensen, effortlessly devouring scenery). Spielrein suffers from intense panic attacks that cause her body and face to contort wildly, and render her speech nearly incomprehensible. By employing Freud’s methods, Jung is successful in getting Spielrein to discuss her intense but unconsummated sexual desire and her absusive relationship with her father, and subsequently she resumes studying medicine and eventually psychoanalysis itself. Over the next ten years, Jung and Freud meet and form a close personal and professional friendship, while Jung’s doctor-patient bond with Spielrein threatens to derail into other territory entirely – egged on by another of Jung’s patients, the deeply hedonistic Otto Gross (Vincent Cassel).

As a tale reinterpolated at least three times over – first in John Kerr’s 1993 book A Most Dangerous Method, then adapted for the stage as The Talking Cure by Christopher Hampton in 2002, and finally in Cronenberg’s film (also penned by Hampton) – Method, the film, wears its postmodern indicators proudly, and in the precise service of its themes: Jung’s dreams prophecizing the great European calamities to come; Freud and Spielrein’s frank discussions on Semitism and otherness; the repeated acknowledgements that Freud’s ideas will resonate for over a century; the too-prescient nods to the crumbling gender divide. Method is, at heart, about the struggle that faces humans once the basic work of self-knowledge is done – in particular, are base instincts to be embraced and given life, or discarded and repressed? That the question seems to have no satisfying response to the present day underlines Method‘s effectiveness in transcending musty costume-drama trappings.As a tale reinterpolated at least three times over – first in John Kerr’s 1993 book A Most Dangerous Method, then adapted for the stage as The Talking Cure by Christopher Hampton in 2002, and finally in Cronenberg’s film (also penned by Hampton) – Method, the film, wears its postmodern indicators proudly, and in the precise service of its themes: Jung’s dreams prophecizing the great European calamities to come; Freud and Spielrein’s frank discussions on Semitism and otherness; the repeated acknowledgements that Freud’s ideas will resonate for over a century; the too-prescient nods to the crumbling gender divide. Method is, at heart, about the struggle that faces humans once the basic work of self-knowledge is done – in particular, are base instincts to be embraced and given life, or discarded and repressed? That the question seems to have no satisfying response to the present day underlines Method‘s effectiveness in transcending musty costume-drama trappings.

Though Fassbender and Mortensen are critics’ darlings, it’s Knightley that’s a revelation here. Her progression from full-blown, debilitating psychosis to comparatively mild neurosis is utterly believable, and her intelligence and poise in her intellectual sparring matches with Jung and Freud are innervating to behold in this context. Working from Hampton’s intensely dialogue-driven screenplay, Cronenberg is able to hone in on the thematic heart of every sequence despite the lack of his usual grotesque visual aids. Despite the stark change of time and setting from the rest of his films, Method feels entirely of a piece with Cronenberg’s previous explorations of desire as a destructive, uncontainable force, only delivered in a much more strongly internalized fashion. Despite the near-total absence of violence, explicit sex, and outright physical grotesquery, the classification of his work as “body horror” remains entirely appropriate, even as he breaks even further away from genre signifiers.

Glee: The 3D Concert Movie

While it wouldn’t be overly hyperbolic to call those two elements worth the price of admission alone, Glee: The 3D Concert Movie is a warm slushie of love to the senses for true Gleeks. The 83-minute concert film is a mix of footage from this summer’s Glee! Live! In Concert! tour (recorded over two shows in New Jersey), fan vignettes and backstage footage.

Little set-up is needed to understand the concept. It’s everyone’s favorite Glee Club kids singing and dancing and making fans scream – no, really, there’s a lot of screaming. Interspersed heavily throughout are fan testimonials about how much they love the TV show, how it has changed their lives and how it is making the world a better place. If it weren’t for the often riveting performances, the whole thing might play a bit like an extended Fox commercial for the show.

But, oh, those performances. For those who complain about Glee’s often disjointed storylines, the movie delivers on what almost everyone does like about the show – the music.

Never is this more evident than 15 minutes into the film when Morris comes out in her green, flowing Brittany-as-Britney outfit and drops jaws with her rendition of "Slave 4 U." In that moment I took back everything I’ve ever said about the uselessness of 3D. This is why 3D was invented. As Morris herself admits in a behind-the-scenes snippet, her boobs "look really good" in 3D. Yeah they do. I think I swallowed my tongue.

Still, all Glee Club kids are not created equal in the concert movie. Fans of Dianna Agron will be disappointed to learn that she is prominently featured in only one abridged number ("Lucky," with now ex-New Direction member Chord Overstreet). For the rest she’s largely seen in the background in ensemble numbers.

But for anyone who has ever wanted the experience of Rachel Berry singing in your lap, this is your Christmas morning. Interestingly, Lea Michelle’s extreme facial gymnastics seem less aggressive in 3D. Instead, her extensive Broadway training shines through. That gal was born to be on a stage and her charisma oozes with every gesture, particularly her gold-star worthy rendition of “Don’t Rain on My Parade.”

AfterEllen.com Hot 100 reigning No. 1 Rivera reconfirms her crown in two stand-out numbers, “Valerie” and “River Deep, Mountain High.” In the former she flirts with the camera while sporting a precariously low-buttoned pink polo and black mini-poodle skirt. In the latter she mesmerizes in a body-clinging green dress and black knee-highs. While Rivera’s “River Deep, Mountain High” duet partner Amber Riley sings her heart out sensationally during the number, her performance is much more static than her hyper-kinetic cohort who will more than likely make you swallow your tongue, again.

Yet for all its high-energy razzle dazzle, the Glee movie does miss some marks. Other than in a few key numbers (a.ka. anything with Heather or Naya) the 3D is largely unremarkable and oddly flat. Also the filmmaker’s insistence on keeping its stars in character backstage was off-putting. True fans will crave more genuine interaction between the co-stars, both on stage and off. For a cast so personally connected to its fans, it seemed jarring to force them to act like Rachel, Brittany, Kurt and Artie off stage. We all already feel like we know them as Lea, Heather, Chris Colfer and Kevin McHale.

The film also gives abundant screentime to McHale, who gets three featured numbers as Artie, and Darren Criss and The Warblers, who take over for a three-song set. And because she’s not just content with her Oscar and hell-bent on winning that Grammy, Gwyneth Paltrow appears to wail out "Forget You." That leaves cast members like Agron and Jenna Ushkowitz with little time to shine. But at least there is no Mr. Shue. Thank heavens for small miracles.

The fan vignettes, from crowd segments to stadium interviews to the three fan vignettes that run through the piece, are a little like an Up with Gleeks documentary. But the three featured fans – cheerleader Janae, Brittany fanatic Josey and out teen Trenton – are so sincere it’s hard to begrudge their inclusion. Oh, and that Mini Warbler shows up too, just for good measure, to melt a few ovaries in 3D.

Love or hate Glee, that pop cultural juggernaut of built on personal acceptance and jazz hands, the movie reinforces one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt. This is a group of ridiculously talented, outrageously hard-working young performers who have earned their adoration the old-fashioned way. They sang for their supper. Boy, can they ever sing.

The Devil's Double (2011)

By Joe Bendel. Somewhere in the lower depths of Hell, Saddam and Uday Hussein are watching this film as they slowly roast on their spits. Graphically dramatizing the sadistic brutality and drug-fueled hedonism of Saddam Hussein’s ruling family, Lee Tamahori’s The Devil’s Double lands the first unequivocal knock-out punch at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, where it has one more can’t-miss public screening this Saturday.

Latif Yahia had the profound misfortune to resemble Saddam’s psychotic son Uday. Even more despised than his despot father, Uday recruited Yahia to serve as his double. It’s not like the Iraqi officer is given any choice in the matter. He could either relinquish his identity to serve as Uday’s public doppelganger or his family would be tortured to death in Abu Ghraib. He knows the junior Hussein means it only too well. As his first tutorial on being Uday, Yahia is forced to watch videotape of his shadow self at work as the head of the Iraqi Olympic Committee, raping and tormenting the nation’s athletes. It is a disturbing scene, but Double is just getting started.

Beginning during the Iran-Iraq War and continuing through the first Gulf War, Double forces the audience to witness Uday’s crimes up-close-and-personal. We watch as he abducts underage school girls straight off the street and violently rapes newlywed brides still in their wedding dresses. Truly, there is really no perversion too heinous for him.

Obviously, being a party to such crimes – albeit against his will – takes a profound emotional toll on Yahia. While his assignment progressively eats away at his soul, Yahia embarks on a dangerous affair with Sarrab, Uday’s favorite amongst his women on-call. Yet, even without their assignations, it is clear that life in the House of Saddam is always brutish and short-lived.

It is one thing to intellectually concede the crimes of the Husseins, but it is quite another to confront it in such visceral and immediate terms. To its credit, Double waters down nothing. Nor does it indulge in any anti-American cheap shots. This is about Uday (and to a much lesser extent Saddam) Hussein’s crimes and Tamahori and screenwriter Michael Thomas offer them absolutely no mitigating circumstances or justifications. Adding to the film’s newsworthiness, the extent to which it depicts the Iraqi Olympic Committee as an extension of Saddam’s secret police will be a genuine eye-opener for many. (Though no fan of the Husseins, it is important to note that the real life Yahia is also a vocal critic of the CIA and Operation Iraqi Freedom.)

In a truly intense dual role that will probably take years of analysis to recover from, Dominic Cooper gives a career-making performance as Uday and Yahia. In terms of mannerisms (and behavior), his Uday bears a strong resemblance to Pacino in Scarface. Twitchy and erratic, he is an unsettling presence, even when apparently at rest. By contrast, Cooper portrays Yahia as a serious slow burner, outraged and slowly deadened by the atrocities surrounding him. Providing further seasoning, French actress Ludivine Sagnier is at her most sensual ever as Sarrab, far eclipsing her sex appeal in films like Mesrine and Chabrol’s A Girl Cut in Two.

No, Double is not a subtle film. Likely making Double even less palatable to critics, Tamahori and cinematographer Sam McCurdy rendered the film in a slick, visually dynamic style reminiscent of the 1990’s glory years of Michael Mann and Tony Scott. Indeed, this is a major production, with art director Charlo Dalili perfectly recreating the ostentation and tackiness of Saddam’s palaces.

Predicting unfavorable reviews for Double from the rest of the Sundance press corps is a pretty short limb to climb out on, as the film’s implications will threaten many worldviews. However, Double constitutes bold filmmaking on several levels. Double also serves as a pointed corrective to the Doug Liman-ACLU-PEN sponsored “performance-installation” on the alleged use of torture by the American government scheduled this Saturday. For those in Park City who really want to understand the horrors of torture, skip the performance art and try to scrounge a ticket for Double this Saturday (1/29) at the Prospector Square Theater as a Premiere selection of this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Bad Teacher (2011)

A romantic comedy centred around a shallow, drug using, potty mouthed junior high teacher who, after being dumped by her sugar daddy, begins to woo a colleague - a move that pits her against a fellow teacher.  So, Bad Teacher, it does what it says on the tin. Elizabeth Halsey (Cameron Diaz) starts out as a shallow money grabbing slag that has plans of a life as a trophy wife, which is unexpectedly circumvented by an astute future mother in law and her sugar daddy’s accountant. I hadn't really heard anything about this film until seeing it and never for a moment thought about the most obvious parallel (that I’m going to point out to you right now).

 

There is an absolutely fantastic and underrated comedy starring Billy Bob Thornton, Tony Cox, John Ritter, Bernie Mac and Lauren Graham called Bad Santa. It has been a staple of my own programming cycle since its release - so much so that it has become the 'A Christmas Carol' for my friends and I. Bad Santa for anyone who hasn’t seen it places a sexually deviant, thieving, ill tempered drunkard in the titular red suit with the fake beard behaving disgustingly and saying all manner of inappropriate things to small children. Fast forward to now and Bad Teacher transplants all of those key elements of a person that shouldn’t be around children, that liberally uses drugs, that drinks far too much and that conducts themselves in a somewhat slovenly fashion.

The point of difference is that Halsey (Diaz) is a superficial character pushed to self-improvement in the form of cosmetic surgery because she’s unsatisfied with her absolutely ridiculously picture-perfect presentation due to a perceived inadequacy in her cup size. Halsey sees a pair of massive breasts as the missing piece that she needs to be of a perfect trophy wife standard. And when Halsey stumbles upon the wealthy substitute teacher Scott Delacorte (Justin Timberlake) she finds herself another potential sugar daddy to pursue; but she does have to contend with the weird #1 teacher Amy Squirrel (Lucy Punch).

Bad Teacher does have some really funny elements and some really good performances, and director Jake Kasdan constructs a comedic landscape filled with a cache of quirky characters. Lynn Davies (Phyllis Smith), Halsey’s introverted colleague provides many sweet moments – especially when being coerced into picking up a cowboy in a bar. Principal Snur (John Michael Higgins) is great as the positive, but disturbingly attached to dolphins, head of school. Timberlake steals the show as the caring, sensitive, and dry humping Delacorte – proving once again that he’s got great comedic timing.

 

Personally I feel the film detrimentally anchors itself to its mainstream rom-com structure and runs aground. The vulgar, promiscuous, bad girl that is not maternal whatsoever sets too poor an example for all the students, so in order to grow she (painfully) finds love where she least expected it (in an all too clichéd and boring way) with the portly gym teacher with the great sense of humour (Jason Segel).

The moments in the film that stay away from clichéd rom-com plot devices and show Halsey’s true shallow, filthy, drunken, superficial and indifferent nature actually make the film worth watching. For me the ending was really hard to take because of the potential that the film showed early on. Bad Teacher is not so bad that it’s good – it’s a mix of good and bad that makes it O.K.

THE HANGOVER 2 (2011)

 

I loved the original Hangover. After having to wade through tons and tons of unfunny "comedies" and endless Judd Apatow movies, The Hangover was a pretty fresh movie that made a huge star out of the fat & bearded Zach Galifianakis. It also made heaps of cash at the box office, which wasn't surprising since it was damn funny. A lot of R-rated comedies settle for gross out humor and raunchy stuff to get laughs, and although The Hangover wasn't above making bodily fluid jokes and waving exposed weiners around, the bulk of the movie just had hilarious dialogue and a great cameo from Mike Tyson. Now the sequel is here, and I fully expected another hilarious romp filled with drunken debauchery and all that.

The movie opens a few years after the events of the first flick. Stu (Ed Helms) has left his mean bitch fiance from the first movie and is now engaged to a lovely Thai chick, who he plans to marry in a few days. Despite his concern, his buddies Phil (Bradley Cooper), Alan (Galifianakis) and Doug (Justin Bartha) convince him to party it up a bit before the wedding. Unfortunately, his fiancee's brother comes along with them, a Stanford med student named Teddy (Mason Lee). Even worse for Stu is the fact that his future father-in-law adores his son Teddy but absolutely hates Stu. That night, the guys have a campfire out on the beach and have a few beers, and of course we know what's waiting for them in the morning.

Alan, Stu and Phil wake up with a massive hangover (surprise, surprise) in a shitty hotel room in the middle of a sprawling city. Alan's head has been shaved bald, Stu has a Mike Tyson tatoo on his face and Phil is back to being his foul mouthed asshole self. Just as they're beginning to realize that they've royally screwed up again, they're attacked by a vest-wearing monkey. Phil also realizes that they've lost Teddy, and Alan finds a naked, passed out Mr. Chow lying on the ground. Chow wakes up and tells them they had a great night of drug fueled partying throughout Bangkok, and agrees to help them try and find Teddy. The crew sets out on their romp through the city which will see them face off with drug lords, transvestite hookers, a fat Paul Giamatti, and other assorted wonders.

If you're reading this and wondering why I'm disappointed with this movie, let me explain. The Hangover was fresh and original and a lot of the humor came from the surprises that kept popping up throughout the movie, like Mike Tyson's cameo, or the photos during the credits, or the bare assed Mr. Chow leaping on people. The sequel tries so hard to be exactly like the first movie that it succeeds almost to a fault. It basically feels like you're watching the same movie again, except this time you know all the punchlines. It doesn't have the spark of the original, and most gags run on for longer than they should, and instead of having new jokes we get dumb stuff like more penises on the screen and more songs by Stu about spending a night with a Thai tranny. Crude can be funny, but crude isn't a substitute for funny. You'd think they would've learned this by now. Galifianakis does his best to keep the laughs coming, and he does a decent job, but everyone else just seems to be doing it by the book and it doesn't have nearly as much charisma as the first one. It just feels like a copy and paste job from the first movie and worse of all, it feels... tired.

 

I loved the original Hangover, and I'll admit I was hoping for a sequel and for everyone to return. They did, but they forgot to bring their A-game this time, and it's a big let down. It's got plenty of laughs, no doubt. The frustrating thing is that this had a lot more potential and now I fear for the third movie which is no doubt already planned out. I'll be generous with the score seeing as how the drug-dealing monkey made me nearly piss my pants from laughing, but I'll deduct points for the trauma of seeing Paul Giamatti's waistline on-screen.

UNKNOWN (2011)

Unless you've been living in North Korea for the last couple of decades, being force fed daily rations of propaganda films and polishing your Kim Jong Il pins, chances are you know who Liam Neeson is. You probably also know that the guy can play a pretty convincing badass. He shot, stabbed and throat punched half of Europe in Taken, beat the shit out of Batman himself in Batman Begins, cut dudes in half with a lightsaber in Star Wars prequels, and even his voice as Aslan, the lion in the Narnia movies, managed to make Mufasa burn with jealousy at the sound of a superior Irish voice. As if that wasn't enough, apparently he has a talent for bashing people's faces in in real life, seeing as how he was a champion boxer as a teenager. That being said, it doesn't take much to get me to watch a movie with Neeson in it, so I was waiting to get my hands on Unknown since I caught a glimpse of the snazzy trailer.

 

Dr. Martin Harris (Neeson) and his wife Liz (January Jones) have just arrived in Berlin. He is scheduled to speak at a biotechnology conference in the city, but their trip suddenly takes a turn for the unexpected as Martin remembers he misplaced his briefcase at the airport. He takes a cab driven by a pretty blonde back to the airport, which ends disastrously after the car plunges into a river after a freak accident. The girl saves the unconscious Martin and drags him to shore, where rescuers try to help him, and she leaves the scene of the accident. Martin wakes up in the next scene, completely confused as to his situation. A doctor informs him that he's been in a coma for the past four days, and that he had no I.D. on him, so they couldn't find any family to contact. Martin is eventually released from the hospital and goes out to look for Liz, remembering his reservation at the hotel and making his way there.

 

At the hotel, Martin gets the shock of a lifetime when his wife refuses to recognize him, and introduces him to her husband, another man by the name of Martin Harris (Aidan Quinn). Martin is escorted out of the hotel, and he's forced to try and piece together the fragments of his memory in order to figure out just what the hell is going on. He eventually gets ahold of Gina (Diane Kruger), the cabbie who saved his life. She reluctantly agrees to help him, while Martin also seeks help from an ex-East German secret police officer named Jurgen (Bruno Ganz). Jurgen finds a series of numbers written in Martin's notebook, which he figures must be some sort of code. As if shit wasn't confusing enough for the poor guy, he and Gina are also attacked by a gang of assassins, in a sprawling car chase through Berlin and several shoot outs. Martin must find out who he is, why the hell someone is impersonating him, why angry Germans are out to kill him, and why his bimbo of a wife is ignoring him.

Martin slowly but surely begins to realize what is going on around him, and events will ultimately lead up to a thrilling, explosive climax. Without going any further into the plot, I'll state that the story has its good share of twists and turns, and never lets up on the tension. Although some of the twists are a bit obvious, the movie had me guessing several times and it all adds to the fun of the movie. Neeson is great at portraying the conflicted Martin Harris, and Diane Kruger does a good job as well. By far my favorite role was Jurgen, played by the excellent Bruno Ganz, who did a fantastic job as Adolf Hitler in Downfall and is just a very, very convincing actor. The rest of the cast was okay, but nothing else really stood out from the film.  

Unknown draws inspiration from several other flicks, but sticks to its own guns enough to make the movie refreshingly original and interesting. Aside from some obvious half-assed CGI near the end, it looks as slick as any other action blockbuster you'd expect. The ending was satisfying enough, and wraps up things quite nicely. It's a good return to form for Neeson, who has by now firmly established himself in the parthenon of ass kicking leading men. Let's hope he keeps his game up.

SOURCE CODE (2011)

For the last couple of years the world of movies has taken over by sequel mania. It's been a never ending stream of sequels, remakes, "re-imaginings" or blatant rip offs of older movies and it shows no sign of stopping. There's been a few good ones, but also a whole bunch of terrible ones. Every once in a while, we get a decent, original story and it's always a breath of fresh air. 2009 had Duncan Jones direct Moon, which was a good sci fi flick and had an interesting concept and terrific performance by Sam Rockwell. Jones now turned his attention towards the action scene and his new film is one of the best movies this year.

  

Source Code opens with Colter Stevens (Jake Gyllenhaal) waking up on a train, with no memory of how he got there or why. We learn that Colter is an Army helicopter pilot and has been in combat in Afghanistan, and apparently is one tough bastard seeing as how he survived a disastrous mission and saved the life of his buddies. Across from him sits Christina (Michelle Monaghan), who starts a conversation with him despite the fact he has no idea who she is. Confused, Colter makes his way to a bathroom where he is shocked to discover his reflection on the mirror shows the face of another man. A bomb explodes on the train, killing everyone on board, and all of a sudden, Colter wakes up inside a dark, capsule looking thing with a uniformed woman (Vera Farmiga) speaking to him on a computer monitor.

Colter is told that he is in fact working inside the Source Code, a rift in time that allows a user to re-live the last 8 minutes of a person's life. He has been placed into the body of Sean Fentress, a teacher and passenger on the train, to try and find out who has put the bomb on the train. Colter must find the people responsible and prevent an even bigger nuclear attack against a major city. He is placed back into the Source Code and each time he relives the last 8 minutes, but small differences begin to appear, as he starts to predict things like accidents, things people say, etc. Colter also begins to doubt the official explanation given to him by Vera Farmiga's character, and he not only has to stop the bombing, but also investigate just why they won't give him any more information about where he is or about the project's secretive boss (Jeffrey Wright).

 

At first the glance, the plot might seem a bit confusing, but if you've seen movies like Memento or The Prestige, you'll know that by paying attention it really isn't all that hard to follow along. Gyllenhaal does a great job with his role, showing both the take charge side of his soldier character and the confused side of the guy inside the Source Code capsule. He is surprisingly convincing as a grizzled veteran, and does his action scenes pretty well. Michelle Monaghan is in most of the movie, and does a great job with adding little changes to her constantly replayed scenes. Everyone else puts in a decent effort as well. The real highlight is the thriller basics in the story. The movie plays out like a fast-paced action flick but has some great plot points that leave you wondering.

It is refreshing to see a nicely crafted action movie that doesn't include Shia LeBeouf, the number "2" in the title, or relies on some shitty 3D to sell movie tickets. Source Code is a damn enjoyable movie and it kept my attention throughout the whole running time. It's pretty smart and provoking as far as most action flicks go, and has likable leads and manages to make Jake Gyllenhaal a convincing action hero for the most part. My only real gripe was the fact that I didn't really love the ending, as I was expecting them to go in a whole different way with it, but it suits the movie just fine. Recommended.

BURIED (2010)

It seems like Ryan Reynolds has apparently made a career out of romantic comedies. Go to a Blockbuster (if there's any still around) and walk over to the romance aisle and close your eyes. Pick out a random DVD and there's a good chance it'll have his face with a quirky smile, his arm around some chick, and a fantastic title like Definitely, Maybe. If you're really lucky, the cover might even have some kids on it. Luckily, there is light at the end of the tunnel. Now that he's becoming richer and more famous, he's been taking on better (better as in, more fighting, shooting, exploding things, etc) roles like Deadpool, a Blade sequel and the upcoming Green Lantern.

 Buried is one of his latest movies, and is simply one of the most tense and exciting movies to come out in 2010. Normally when you hear the words "foreign" and "Indie," you think of shitty dramas or some hipster art film about a girl who collects dead birds and falls in love with a gay record store owner. Thankfully, there's no need for such worrying here.  The premise of the movie is simple enough: Paul Conroy is an American truck driver, working as a contractor in war torn Iraq. He wakes up one day, much to his chagrin, inside a fucking coffin. Spanish director Rodrigo Cortés manages to make 94 minutes of a guy stuck inside a box seem like a roller coaster ride. ¡Viva España!

The movie starts with no introduction and no explanation. Paul wakes up in the pitch black, fumbles around and has a panic attack. He finds his lighter, flicks it on, and to his horror realizes he is inside a coffin. At first, he has absolutely no idea why he's been.... well, you know, buried alive. To his surprise, his BlackBerry is still on him. Piece by piece he manages to recreate what happened to him the day. He remembers that the convoy he was driving in was ambushed by insurgents. The rest of the drivers were murdered, and Paul had such shit luck the Iraqis decided to have a good laugh and bury him alive. He manages to get in contact with the FBI, his employers, and eventually his wife. Things however, might not be exactly as they seem. At first, no one believes his story. His employers are somewhat sketchy, the FBI investigator doesn't sound too convincing, and to make things worse, he gets a phone call from the asshole terrorist who put him in the box to begin with. Oh yeah, the guy wants a $5 million ransom or he'll let Paul suffocate to death.  

Paul will have to deal with the FBI trying to find him, the terrorists trying to get their ransom, his employers trying to wash their hands of the whole ordeal, and the slow death of his cell phone battery. There's a few good twists around the halfway part of the movie that had me wanting to high five someone. Needless to say, this is an intense movie. Scenes move quickly, and things begin to spiral out of control at what seems to be a frantic pace. Reynolds does a great job with his role, as we see Paul run through the whole gamut of emotions you'd expect from some poor average guy stuck in the middle of some Middle Eastern hellhole, buried in a box underground and tortured over the phone by a gruff voiced Iraqi. Despite the limited setting, the camera moves around a lot, and there are some very cool scenes inside the coffin, which contrasts nicely with the drama that comes from Paul's phone conversations. 

Although it's somewhat of an unknown indie film, Buried was among the best movies of 2010 - it stuck to its premise very well and delivered a fresh take on the thriller genre that lately has been turning out loads of crap upon crap. It's fun. It's thrilling. It's somewhat unpredictable. Reynolds does a stand-up job and keeps your attention despite the fact you'd expect people would get sick of seeing a single face throughout the entire movie. The pacing is very fast, the tension very well done, and the ending was one of the most satisfying I've seen in a long while. It's a shame this flick went under the radar for most people. Definitely recommended.

127 HOURS (2010)

 

Until 2009, British director Danny Boyle had made quite a name for himself directing good movies like Trainspotting, 28 Days Later, and one of my favorite sci-fi films, Sunshine. It was that year though, that made Danny Boyle blow up in fame since his little movie about Indian kids jumping around in poop puddles and becoming game show contestants hit the big time at the Oscars. Slumdog Millionaire. Remember? You might have heard of it. In any case, Boyle is known for his intense, hectic approach to films and there is always a raw, vibrant nature attached to whatever subject he takes on. Which is good news for 127 Hours, since it tells the story of a guy who gets trapped by a boulder, and cuts his damn arm off. Sounds intense to me, but hey, I live in the suburbs. Your mileage may vary.

Aron Ralston (James Franco) is a 28-year old mountain climber who lives as if he's got hardly a care in the world. Armed with his mountain bike, hiking gear, some water and a bit of food he sets out to explore the remote Blue John Canyon in Colorado. Something about the fact that Aron neglects to tell any of his friends or family where he's going tells you he's a bit of an idiot. You can just smell trouble coming his way. He arrives at the canyon, and comes across two girls (played by Kate Mara and Amber Tamblyn), who are apparently lost, and Aron being the helpful  carefree guy that he is, offers to be their guide for a bit. Together they do a bit of spelunking, leading up to a great scene inside a huge pool inside a cave. The girls are amused with Aron, but have their suspicions that he might just be insane. I'd agree with them.

 After taking a few Myspace pictures  (or whatever you kids are using these days) with the chicks, they invite him to their party later that night. Aron says he'll drop by and check it out, and goes off on his own, waving goodbye and as usual, not telling them where he's off to. Flash forward a couple minutes, and Aron is made to pay for being such a colossal dumbasss. He looses his footing while climbing across a rock fracture, falls, and while trying to save himself, grabs onto a huge rock which ends up falling and smashing his right arm. Pinned to the canyon wall by this hulking boulder, running low on water, and with no means of escape. Aron tries to chip away at the rock with his cheap knife to no avail; that damn rock isn't going nowhere and he knows it.

Nothing I could say about the movie or no amount of screenshots would be accurate enough to describe what a marvelous movie this is. Danny Boyle pulls no punches with his film making. His camera moves in ways you wouldn't expect, he uses light and color inventively and creates a fantastic sense of tension and claustrophobia in the canyon scenes. To keep a viewer's interest with such a limited subject is no small feat. By the time Aron makes the ballsy decision to amputate his own arm with a dull pocketknife, you've been in the canyon with him. (A word for the squeamish: the part where he cuts off his arm is gnarly. Tendons, bone, muscle, nerves, all shown pretty graphically.) We have a front row seat to witness the deterioration of mind and body to the point that he can barely deal with his situation. What's there to say about Franco? He pulls off the performance of a lifetime. Completely disappears into his role and does the hard job of making you feel empathic towards a guy who has no one to blame for his trouble but himself. The indomitable will to live that he starts to develop near the end of the movie is just great. Thrilling, thrilling stuff.

127 Hours is one of the best movies of the year. It's equal parts adventure, action movie, drama and thriller. Danny Boyle has pulled another masterpiece out of his bag of tricks, and James Franco finally puts his acting chops to good use in a fantastic role. Don't miss it.