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CINEMA SEEN - "Underwhelmed Times Three" By William Margold Rather than disrupt a good night’s sleep (comforted by watching the first two hours of the new season of the annoyingly wonderful LOST just before turning in) to stagger blearily into my living room to watch the Academy Award nominations "live" at the ridiculously early time of 5:30am last Thursday morning, I simply cheated disorientation (as well as precluded crankiness for the rest of the day) by scheduling my VCR to record the announcements, and then got up, much more rested, and watched them at the much more reasonable 8:30am. And now the countdown to the Oscar presentations on Sunday, February 22 begins. And as mentioned in last week’s column, my next quartet of Cinema Seens will be devoted to the discussion of what (and who) made the final cut...and of what (and who) didn’t...culminating with my Feb. 19 "Prediction Piece"---wherein I will put my movie watching/evaluating insights on the line for all to revel in...or ridicule over. Herein, although not wanting to look like I am enjoying myself too much, I’m going to knock around a trio of heavy hitters that, for any number of reasons, failed (with the exception of a supporting performance) to make the cut. VALKYRIE---Nazis and their interminably futile attempts to knock off Hitler are ploddingly presented in this Bryan Singer directed bore-wurst that gives Tom Cruise very little to do except fail. Cast as "good Nazi" Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg (who probably thought that there really was soap in those showers), Cruise gets an eye knocked out early on, and fashions a patch that would make a pirate proud throughout the rest of the film, which at least makes him slightly more dimensional than his costars that include Tom Wilkinson, Bill Nighy, Kenneth Branagh and Terrence Stamp. Tensionless and tedious, the production eventually becomes history mired in the quicksand of seemingly good intentions gone awry. However, with really nothing very likeable about any of the characters in the film, I kept thinking that even had the plot to assassinate Adolph been successful, and the head of the snake had been cut off...the venom of what the Nazis perpetrated upon the world was still going to be as virulent throughout the rest of the beast. REVOLUTIONARY ROAD---A very sour serving of Salinger (as in J.D.) that places pretty hamsters Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet on the barbed wire treadmill that is commuter train close to New York, Connecticut suburbia circa 1955. Directed listlessly, with one exception, by Sam ("American Beauty") Mendes, this is much more "American Brittle" with the end result being that I really didn’t give a damn if the characters shattered...or not! All of this is being done a whole lot better (and commandingly) right now on AMC in the MAD MEN cable television series...with one exception...the presence of an actor named Michael Shannon, who, in two extended scenes of raging emotions (and remarkable insight) tears up the screen. Although most likely to lose out to Heath Ledger in Best Supporting Actor category, Shannon scorches the senses, and of course steals the film. Only problem... "Revolutionary Road" isn’t worthy of Shannon’s theft. GRAN TORINO---The temptation to label Clint Eastwood’s miserable, and misery-inducing excuse for a motion picture---"Dinosaur Harry"---and allow it to disappear would be the humane way to let it go away...forever. But I guess, much like the grumbling grouch that Clint (who also laconically directed the dismal doings) portrays, my milk of human kindness has long soured, and I am compelled to kick Clint’s cinematic cur while it’s down. Spewing racial epithets with virtually no conviction (let’s just say Clint’s Walt Kowalski doesn’t really call "a spade"..."a spade"--- and slants his other ethnic slurs with all the menace of a Q-tip rather than a dart), he grouses in breathy sound bites resembling the gargling of razor blades, swilling beer, while waiting (of course, impatiently) for Father Time to catch up with him. And when he finally finds a genuinely unconvincing excuse to go out on his own terms, what was designed to elicit my tears simply got another yawn out of me. Sardonically, just before his supposed "noble act"---he drops his faithful dog off with his irksome neighbors---whose eating habits are rumored to lean toward turning canines into cuisine. And in a final note of irony...I listened close enough to the sullen script to learn that Clint’s character is a long time Detroit Lions season ticket holder. From my own painfully personal experiences of being afflicted with acute Detroit Lion-fan-itis for over 50 years---although admittedly trivial---I guess that’s reason enough to look at the life through shattered glasses. end NOTE: Originally published in LA Xpress, January 29, 2009, issue. |