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Muscle Shoals
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CHRIS MIKSANEK - THE MED CITY
MOVIE GUY
Muscle Shoals has got the Swampers. And they’ve been
known to pick a song or two. Yes, they do — or
rather, they have — for everyone from soul icon
Wilson Pickett to classic rockers like the Rolling
Stones and Rod Stewart. Director
Greg “Freddy” Camalier’s documentary,
Muscle Shoals, lionizes the sound that
originated in Rick Hall’s FAME studio and its
breakaway sect, “The Muscle Shoals Sound Studio,” in
an unlikely northern Alabama town not particularly
close to anything that became both an incubator and a
mecca. Its isolation was as responsible for the
unique sound as it was for attracting big names who
enjoyed the unpretentiousness and ability to wander
the region with virtual anonymity.
That’s good and well, but the challenge of a
documentary is to connect (or reconnect) with the
audience — which Camalier handily manages, though it
would be impossible not to with revered music that
scores the soundtrack of our lives. Hits like Percy
Sledge’s “When a Man Loves a Woman,” Bob Seger’s
“Mainstreet,” Paul Simon’s “Kodachrome,” and Lynyrd
Skynyrd’s anthem “Free Bird” all originated there.
(Fun fact: Skynyrd roadie Billy Powell kept his
classical piano training secret, but was discovered
improvising when studio musicians returned from
lunch; the song’s intro is his composition and
performance.) Hall forged the
original studio out of personal tragedy, creating a
colorblind sanctuary in both a time and place that
was the vortex of racial hostility: Governor George
Wallace’s Alabama. While neither African-American nor
long-haired hippie musicians could enjoy dinner
without cold stares, in the studio they were all
equals. Jimmy Cliff introduced the world to reggae on
the very spot where Duane Allman would later invent
Southern rock. Others backed by
the studios’ musicians include Bob Dylan, Linda
Ronstadt, Joe Cocker, Etta James, Little Richard and
Clarence Carter, whose hit “Patches” describes Hall
and his father’s relationship.
Camalier effectively pulls all of this together to
chronicle and pay homage to the sound that is the
marrow of our collective anthology in an award-worthy
documentary that is an engaging and well-paced
tribute. Includes interviews with Mick Jagger, Bono,
Alicia Keys and Keith Richards, as well as must-see
vintage video of the Queen of Soul herself, Aretha
Franklin. Turn it up.
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Get Smart
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CHRIS MIKSANEK - THE MED CITY
MOVIE GUY Carell gets
“Smart” down pat In this big screen version of the 60’s
television classic Get Smart, Steve Carell is
battling a weight problem, career stagnation,
not-so-secret feelings for his hot partner and KAOS’
plans for world domination ... and loving it.
After CONTROL’s headquarters are ransacked,
compromised secret agents around the world are
chewed-up like mini donuts at Rochesterfest. The
agency’s Chief (Alan Arkin) has little choice but to
promote mousey analyst Maxwell Smart to the rank of
field agent. With the capable Agent 99 (Anne
Hathaway), he’s charged
not just with the formidable task of saving the day,
but of doing justice to the original Mel Brooks
series, as well. Carell does both in this
film filled with gadgets, laughs, and plenty of
nostalgic nods for the boomers — the shoe phone is
back as are catch phrase like “Missed it by that
much” — though familiarity with the original series
is not a prerequisite. Fun cameos
and sharp casting turn what otherwise might be
dismissed as just another spy spoof (an Our Man Flint,
Johnny
English or Austin Powers) into what is literally
the film of the century. The film of the
year? Would you believe an incredibly fun way
to spend a summer evening?
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The Rite
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CHRIS MIKSANEK - THE MED CITY
MOVIE GUY
One thing you need to understand about Catholics: to
us, an exorcist is like a superhero. One minute he’s
mild mannered, balancing a parish ledger or
Christening a cherubic baby. But on a moment’s notice
he can spring into action dashing-off with his black
bag to battle evil incarnate.
Such is the life we spy in the supernatural thriller
The Rite, starring Academy Award winner
Anthony
Hopkins. The film is
loosely based on Matt Baglio’s well-researched, The Rite:
The Making of a Modern Exorcist and follows a
surrogate would-be priest named Michael Kovak (Colin
O'Donoghue) who, in training to exorcize demons,
finds his own faith. In short,
Kovak doesn’t originally set out to live up to his
namesake (the similarly-monikered archangel). In
fact, as something of an atheist, he enters the
seminary only for a free college education. Upon his
resignation, however, he’s cajoled into traveling to
Rome to learn the ways of the exorcist. There he’s
identified as a skeptic and paired with a veteran
exorcist Fr. Lucas (Hopkins). Lucas is, himself, a
reformed doubter with admitted relapses and through
him we learn that the rite is legitimate and
frequently used after natural explanations are
dismissed through medical and physiological
evaluations. As Kovak gradually
accepts what he sees, his faith grows and in a
classic cinematic third act redemption he is
(predictably) called to action.
For me, The Rite, like the
1973 film, The
Exorcist, is a cure for the occasional bout of
agnosticism. Crede ut intelligas; we cannot believe
in one without believing in the other. The film then
is a faith journey first and a horror film second.
Unfortunately, as the latter, it doesn’t go far
enough to satisfy fans of the genre. As the former,
for moviegoers without the stomach for its unsettling
moments, it may be too much. But
it worked for me. As it strove for authenticity, it
exposed human doubt. That’s just as authentic and
engaging as the logistics of the actual rite which is
often less spectacular than we anticipate (this
Hopkins acknowledges when he asks Kovak, “What did
you expect? Spinning heads and pea soup?” Well....
yes; yes I did).
It’s also refreshing to see this story told
absent the snarky anti-Catholic dialog that is all
too typical. Not just told. Well told. And well
executed. As Fr. Lucas, for instance, Anthony Hopkins
is delicious (but don’t look for Hannibal Lecter,
even when he’s channeling Baal) and newcomer Colin
O'Donoghue sells Michael Kovak (though unremarkabl).
In the end, The Rite is two separate films. As
a supernatural thriller, it’s limp, but through the
prism of faith it's an entirely different experience.
What they’re
saying in the balcony: Paul was impressed but
conflicted. “It was good,” he said adding, “But I
kept thinking: Regurgitating nails. Levitation? I’ve
seen David Blaine do that. Why is this different?”
[Feb 10, 2011]
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The Revenant
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CHRIS MIKSANEK - THE MED CITY
MOVIE GUY
Nearly two centuries ago, before paper and scissors were added to the palette of conflict resolution tools, rocks were the preferred method of dealing with disputes.
Writer and activist Harriet Bishop, who started the first public school in the territory and for whom one of our elementary schools is named, documented frontier savagery. “The world has no record of such inhuman acts!” she wrote before creating one such record in her 1864 book, “Dakota War Whoop,” describing one raid that left an early settler decapitated, one child skinned alive and another child nailed to a tree.
History is unsettling and sometimes requires a
strong stomach. So it is understandable why those
uncomfortable with it might prefer a bowdlerized
version. Oscar-winning director Alejandro Iñárritu (Birdman)
is not one of them. Had he pulled punches in
The Revenant, the true tale of frontiersman Hugh Glass who “survived death,” this story might not be remarkable and Leonardo DiCaprio would not be on the way to a long-deserved Academy Award of his own.
Leo is scout Glass who, after fur-trappers are brutally ambushed by Pawnees, must lead them back to their fort safety. But while exploring the trail a few miles ahead of the group, he’s viciously attacked by a grizzly — ripped at and tossed like a rag doll in one of the most chilling scenes of cinematic violence.
Nearly impossible to carry, he’s left behind with three attendees, one being his son, to see to his comfort until he succumbs to his wounds. Impatient (or pragmatic) trapper John Fitzgerald (the under-appreciated Tom Hardy) tries to hasten the inevitable, murdering Glass’ son in the process, then leaves the incapacitated Glass for dead in a shallow grave.
DiCaprio, one of the industry’s most committed actors, crawls out of the grave (the word ‘revenant’ means one who comes back from the dead) and treks some 200 miles across the cold and rugged Dakota territory to exact revenge.
Lots of “eewww” moments. For instance, before he self-cauterizes it, Glass takes a drink and water gushes from his throat wound. It all contributes to the aloneness he experiences in the vast wilderness and the necessary self-reliance men of the time no doubt summoned to survive.
If Iñárritu’s storytelling is magic, two-time
Oscar cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki (Gravity,
Birdman) works the mirrors for him.
Ugly, poetic, awe-inspiring, and most important, authentic, all at once.
[Oct 17, 2013]
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Saving Mr. Banks
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CHRIS MIKSANEK - THE MED CITY
MOVIE GUY It’s a small world
after all. Who would have guessed
Walt Disney and Mary Poppins
author P. L. Travers shared a quality that helped
close the House of Mouse patriarch’s two-decade-long
negotiations to bring the popular nanny to life on
the big screen? What we get from
this charming dramatization of Walt’s dogged pursuit
for movie rights is that while he’s been able to move
past a less-than-perfect relationship with his own
dad, Travers is not. The head of her fictitious Banks
family is a manifestation of her whimsical but
alcoholic father (Colin Farrell, brilliantly), both
of whom are flawed characters capable of redemption.
On that she won’t budge or permit trivialization.
Unfortunately, she’s not convinced Disney’s
commercial eye sees the same story — it’s not the
children who need saving, it’s Mr. Banks. That and
her inability to confront her own past gives rise to
preposterous stipulations. “There can be no red on
the screen, anywhere, ever, at all,” she says early
on; and of casting Dick Van Dyke? “Oh, my! No, no,
no!” (As if even the sound of it is something quite
atrocious.) Walt’s thick skin and
persistence eventually win her over. In the process,
we gain insight and an appreciation for what goes
into the making of a classic. Few
actors have the gravitas for Walt Disney, who here is
as protective of his mouse as she is of her nanny.
Tom Hanks is one of them, delivering an Oscar-caliber
performance. As for Emma Thompson, she plays Travers
in a most delightful way — though not at first. She’s
a tough nut to crack, but chauffeur Paul Giamatti
does a pretty good job trying.
Lots to like in Saving Mr. Banks,
the best film I’ve seen so far this year. |
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Mr. Peabody and Sherman
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CHRIS MIKSANEK - THE MED CITY
MOVIE GUY a/k/a: ‘Searching
for the Royale with Cheese’ Mr.
Peabody is above fetching a newspaper. Writing for
one, yes, but fetching? Never. The
university-educated canine is an accomplished
inventor, musician, chiropractor, scientist ... he’s
even adopted a boy, Sherman. But what impressed me
most about the smug spaniel is how well he speaks
Czech. In fact, everyone in the
animated revisit to the 1960’s classic Jay Ward
cartoon spoke flawless Czech. Shermen, his friend
Penny, and all of the historical characters they
visit including Marie Antoinette who says, and I am
not making this up, “Let them eat kolache.”
Here in the Czech Republic, where I am validating
my own pedigree this week, the dubbed film
Mr. Peabody and Sherman is titled
Dobrodružství pana Peabodyho a Shermana.
(Thank you cut and paste!) Like
us, Czechs love the movies and their movie-going
experience is not unlike ours. Admission is
comparable. I paid 199 CZK ($10) to watch the duo
prance through time in their WABAC machine in digital
3D. The theater was clean, comfortable, and sat about
350. Concessions were primarily popcorn and soft
drinks but at about only half the price. It is also
common to choose your theater seat from a chart when
you buy your ticket. The
middle-school daughter of a couple with whom I shared
a restaurant table told me she and her friends love
watching movies with American subtitles to help learn
our language. (Why not? All the Italian I know came
from watching The Godfather.)
I screened this one commando — no subtitles — and
my Czech is not very good so I had to rely on the
visual gags. The animation was crisp in this
DreamWorks release, but I expected more from the
co-director of The Lion King.
I counted four butt jokes, five if you count Peabody
refusing to sniff one. The plot
is thin (think Peabody and Sherman’s
Excellent Adventure); essentially
Sherman gets into trouble trying to impress a girl
and Peabody has to go “way back” to rescue them in
overdone scenarios: The Trojan Horse, ancient Egypt,
da Vinci painting Mona Lisa, etc...
Three past big-release adaptations of Jay Ward
classics flopped (2000’s The Adventures
of Rocky & Bullwinkle, 1997’s
George of the Jungle, and 1997’s
Dudley Do-Right) and I am
not sure we need a WABAC to know this one is headed.
The film’s preceded by a charming short called
Skoro doma (The English
version is titled Almost Home
and the alien captain is voiced by Steve Martin).
All things considered (my reaction to the visuals
and the number of chuckles I heard from the audience
who knew the language) I give this Czech version
three dumplings, I mean ... |
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21 and 22 Jump Street
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CHRIS MIKSANEK - THE MED CITY
MOVIE GUY
21
Jump Street: I don’t want to say I watched a lot of TV as
a kid, but when I read bedtime stories to my own
kids, they all started, “Once upon a time, there were
three little girls who went to the police academy.”
So, yea, television is part of our collective pop
culture. No surprise then that
when they’re stumped for new ideas for the big
screen, Hollywood looks to the little one. Among the
best have been The Untouchables
and The Fugitive. The
worst: Lost in Space.
Somewhere in between is 21 Jump
Street, the new comedy starring Channing Tatum and a
svelte Jonah Hill. This R-rated buddy-comedy
finds the two newly-minted cops each assigned very
hazardous duties. Not. But a revival of the Jump
Street program sends the youthful pair back to high
school, undercover, to bust a dangerous synthetic
drug ring. There’re some predictable laughs.
The two were polar opposites in school — Hill was,
surprise, nerdy and Tatum, no way, was a jock. Since
then, they’ve joined forces to cover each other’s
blind spots in order to survive the academy à la
Rebecca De Mornay and Mary Gross in Feds.
A
lot has since changed with regards to what’s cool and
the tables quickly turn. Hill is now popular and
Tatum lands in AP Chem. Not for long. In too deep
they get into a fight and are expelled then
consequently kicked off the force. They’re then
recruited by a student to watch his back just in time
for the big deal to go down. Tatum is great
here, but the “Slim Shady” Hill is not nearly as
funny as the old “Biggie” Hill. Johnny Depp, who got
his start on the series, makes a great cameo as an
undercover DEA agent though Rochester moviegoers will
hoot louder for Lourdes graduate Johnny Pemberton
who’s one of Hill’s smart clique.
Unfortunately, 21 Jump Street
doesn’t seem to know if it’s a serious play on the
franchise like Mission: Impossible,
or a spot-on spoof like Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson’s
Starsky & Hutch.
It’s not without laughs and won’t be without
a sequel (Richard Grieco, stand by) but neither is it
a spectacular treatment worthy of the iconic series.
22 Jump Street:
It wasn’t a particularly
great TV show in 1987 and was only mildly
entertaining in its 2012 big screen treatment.
But it must have made some money because the
geezers are back. This time moving across the street
to a more elaborate abandoned church with the address
22 Jump Street. Long in the tooth
now, this time undercover cops Jonah Hill and
Channing Tatum infiltrate a college where the
geriatric gags get, pardon me, “old” after a while.
”Seriously, we’re college students,” Hill
assures a co-ed. “But you look like my
grandfather.” “It’s the hormones in the
milk.” Hill is still the nerd and
Channing the jock (subtract the designer drug,
expletives and campus debauchery and you have
essentially the premise of last year’s Monsters University).
Lots of the humor comes from them trying to
fit-in which comes-off as labored and played-out.
(The genre archetype, 1986’s Back to School,
garnered laughs precisely because Rodney Dangerfield
did not try to fit in. A suggestion, I’m just sayin’.)
They never quite do fit-in, but they have a
mission nonetheless: put a stop to “The Ghost,” a
kingpin with a toehold at the campus where a new drug
has caused at least one death. While
investigating, Hill canoodles with a student who
unbeknownst to him is the daughter of his ornery
boss, Ice Cube (uh-oh!). But the girl’s needy
roommate (Jillian Bell who steals the show) is even
more irked. Tatum (“I’m the first person in
my family to pretend to go to college”), meanwhile,
befriends the football team’s quarterback and like
David Arquette in another (better) back to school
film Never Been Kissed is tempted to keep the
charade going to see his athletic dream become a
reality. No one tries harder
than Jonah Hill to earn laughs and though he is
frequently successful, the film suffers from a
limited palette of stereotype scenarios like an epic
Spring Break, a predicable human sexuality class and
a slam poetry reading. The latter, funny as it is
here, paled to Mike Myers’ recital of virtually the
same stanza in, So I Married an Axe Murderer. A
couple of fun cameos including Lourdes grad Johnny
Pemberton but most of the original laughs come during
the end credits when subsequent sequels are unveiled. |
(21)
(22)
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Trouble with the Curve
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CHRIS MIKSANEK - THE MED CITY
MOVIE GUY Cinematically speaking, Clint
Eastwood is a national treasure. But with a legacy
second to none, some might say of late he’s been
typecast and relegated to grizzled and crusty roles,
a la Burgess Meredith.
Hardly so. The two-time Oscar winner (three, if
you count the one he SHOULD have earned for
Gran Torino) is merely mining his golden
years for the nuance that gives Torino’s Walt
Kowalski or Gus Lobel, the aging baseball scout in
the new sports drama Trouble with the Curve, depth.
“A man’s got to know his limitations,” Eastwood’s
Harry Callahan famously said and here the actor seems
to be dealing with them. In Curve, widower Gus Lobel
is losing his sight. Though the younger scouts have
switched to computer stats, Gus still puts his faith
in eyeballing a player’s stance and grip. For him,
that means his career coming to an ignoble end is
about the only thing he can see clearly.
Gus then
takes to the road to scout a high school wunderkind
to prove he can still carry his weight. Meanwhile
back in the cubicles, Lobel’s daughter Mickey (Amy
Adams), overworked and underappreciated at her law
firm, is feeling guilty about not being closer to her
father. Theirs is a fractured relationship, but
nothing that baseball can’t fix. Together,
reluctantly at first then by necessity, they
reconstitute that which was once between them.
Contrived ending and all, it works.
Eastwood has
raised curmudgeoness to high art. Adams always has
pleasant screen presence and the plot even manages to
extract a decent performance from John Goodman. The
surprise for me was Justin Timberlake, who plays a
pitcher Eastwood originally scouted but has since
washed-out. Now both men are competing for the same
first round draft pick with Timberlake also angling
for Mickey. At times, this one
actually moves at the pace of a baseball game, but
it’s always engaging and to me was reminiscent of
both last year’s Moneyball
(Brad Pitt, Jonah Hill) and The Color of Money,
Martin Scorsese’s 1986 sequel to The Hustler that
starred Paul Newman as an aging pool shark who sold
salad dressing on the side. With
great performances and genuine sentiment,
Trouble with the Curve might
not be a grand slam, but it’s definitely a deep fly
to center field that’s going, going, it could be ...
it is!
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Moneyball
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CHRIS MIKSANEK - THE MED CITY
MOVIE GUY Baseball has a
special place in American culture and consequently in
some of our most popular films, for instance, Robert
Redford’s The
Natural, or Kevin Costner’s
Bull Duram.
Often the sport is merely a backdrop —
The Bad News
Bears were, after all, a rag-tag group
of misfits pulling together to fight improbable odds.
In WWII uniforms they could be The Dirty Dozen.
But sometimes a baseball film is just a baseball
film; like Brad Pitt’s Moneyball, the biopic of Oakland
A’s radical general manager Billy Beane, who was
tasked with running a major league baseball team on a
little-league budget. When three of his star
players are poached by the deep-pocketed New York
Yankees, Beane has an epiphany. With a Yale
number-cruncher (Jonah Hill) he sets-out to mine
affordable undervalued players to replace the
expensive ones; essentially weighing sexy stats lower
than one key trait: on-base percentages. Bucking the
old guard – obstinate scouts and team’s manager
(Academy Award winner Philip Seymour Hoffman) – he
assembles a bargain team who go on to set a record
for the longest winning streak in baseball history.
Director Bennett Miller and writers Aaron Sorkin and Steven Zaillian
(Schindler's List) did a
little odds-beating themselves. They delivered an
entertaining, probably Oscar-bound, dramatization of
— and I am typing this in disbelief myself —
baseball statistics. Credit Sorkin, no doubt,
who demystified all things Zuckerberg in last year’s
The Social Network. Seriously, it takes some pretty
good writing to weave jargon like ‘shell scripts’ and
‘OBPs’ into a story line without marginalizing the
audience. A lot of it might
otherwise be dry were it not for the outstanding
cast. Jonah Hill does an admirable job in one of his
first non-comedic roles and Philip Seymour Hoffman is
always a joy, even if we only have a small dose of
the Capote
star here. This one’s all Brad Pitt and his Beane, a mash-up of a thoughtful Yogi Berra and
compassionate Gordon Gekko, is definitely the kind of
underdog story that classic films are made of.
Still, it’s far from the year’s best and I had a
hard time watching this without picturing Andy
Griffith’s Salvage 1 (“if we use glue sticks and
duct tape instead of titanium and o-rings, we can get
to the moon for only about $60,000!”). That’s not
bad, It’s just what was on my mind as Beane scrounged
a roster from essentially other teams’ rummage sales.
Even if it’s not a shot to the center-field
bleachers, it’s definitely a solid double and that’s
something that Beane himself would find more
valuable.
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An American Carol
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CHRIS MIKSANEK - THE MED CITY
MOVIE GUY There’s a great
history lesson in An American Carol,
the political comedy starring Kevin Farley and Kelsey
Grammer. No, not the one about Neville Chamberlain
giving peace a chance by offering Czechoslovakia as
an appeasement to a dangerous dictator. It’s a
reminder that once upon a time humor didn’t have to
be dulled by political correctness.
David Zucker, who gave us the 1980s classics
Airplane! and
Police Squad, brings us this wildly
entertaining, and sometimes uncomfortably insolent,
film that posits what our world might be like if the
rabid left had their way and there were no wars.
When anti-American filmmaker Michael Malone, a
toned-down version of real filmmaker Michael Moore,
wants to ban the 4th of July, he is visited by the
ghosts of JFK, General Patton and George Washington
who show him the consequences of his Anti-American
liberalism (Hitler sings Kumbaya while storming
Poland with his “campaign for change” and slavery
still exists in America because Lincoln wouldn’t
sacrifice 600,000 lives in the Civil War).
Some have dismissed the movie as agitprop,
focusing on its attack of the Left’s naivety and
misguided efforts. But what An American
Carol really spoofs is our guarded
sense of humor, a funny-bone numbed by a generation
of political correctness. Indeed,
the film is offensive, irreverent and
politically-maligning, but it’s also laugh out loud
funny.
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42
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CHRIS MIKSANEK - THE MED CITY
MOVIE GUY Racism has never
been quarantined to the south and nothing better
demonstrates its metastasis than Jackie Robinson’s
life. Robinson, as many know, was an accomplished
athlete. At UCLA he excelled in track, basketball and
football as well as the sport in which he would be
immortalized by breaking through its color barrier:
baseball. 42
isn’t the first telling of the desegregation of
America’s Pastime. Robinson played himself in the
1950 film The Jackie Robinson Story.
But this one’s frankness paints a harsher and
consequently more realistic picture of the larger
struggle for equality that the athlete represented.
Harrison Ford (in one of his better performances)
stars as Brooklyn Dodgers GM Branch Rickey, on the
prowl for someone that will both appeal to the
growing number of African American fans and help
bring his beleaguered team a pennant. He takes a
chance on the notoriously spirited Robinson (Chadwick Boseman) primarily because of his experience playing
on integrated teams but cautions him not to fight
back against the predictable resistance. “Do you want
a player afraid to fight back?” he famously asks
Rickey who replies “I want a ballplayer with the guts
not to fight back!” Easier said than done.
Acceptance comes slowly and usually because of
economics. On a team trip, for example, an attendant
filling the massive bus tank refuses him the use of a
bathroom. “Stop the pump, we’ll buy our 99 gallons
somewhere else” he declares; the gas jockey relents,
“ahhh, go ahead.” And manager Leo Durocher cuts to
the chase nipping in the bud any team incohesion,
“we’re playing for money, winning is the only thing
that matters.” Rickey too explains the only color he
cares about is green before later admitting he fought
hard for Jackie because “there was something unfair
about the game I love.” Some aren’t so easily
swayed. One of the harshest yet most necessary
moments in the film has the Philadelphia Phillies
manager (Alan Tudyk) relentlessly haranguing Robinson
from the dugout using the vilest language. After a
generation of bowdlerization, for moviegoers this is
patently shocking until we realize how ubiquitous was
language like this in Robinson’s time; then we are
frozen in disbelief that this was ever tolerated.
Through it all, Jackie Robinson stands resolute.
Adept. Dignified. “If they knew
you,” Robinson’s wife Rachel tells him at his lowest
point, “they would be ashamed.”
This one transcends baseball.
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Godzilla
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CHRIS MIKSANEK - THE MED CITY
MOVIE GUY Where is Iron Man
when you need him?
Tall Tales
Believe it or not,
dozens of films over the past sixty years have
featured Godzilla, but
only a few warrant mention.
Godzilla (1954) A guy
in a lizard costume levels a room full of fake
buildings that are supposed to resemble Tokyo.
Nothing spectacular ... except the birth of a
film genre. (A 1956 mashup added footage of
Raymond Burr and comical English dubbing.)
King Kong vs. Godzilla (1962)
When the reptile runs amuck savants hatch a plan
that every 10-year-old in the audience thought
was brilliant: airlift King Kong to battle him. A
lighter film and my favorite of the sequels.
Mothra vs. Godzilla (1964)
Twin girls control a giant moth who keeps
Godzilla in check. A lone surviving scene from an
uncompleted sequel shows Godzilla pushing a
shopping cart with a very large bug zapper though
the Osaka Menards.
Godzilla (1998) A
mediocre contemporary retelling that starred
Matthew Broderick as a scientist and his real
life wife Sarah Jessica Parker as the titular’s
stylist shopping for size-1160 Manolo Blahniks.
Wait, what?
Cloverfield (2008) A unique
approach -- a Godzilla attack from the
perspective of his victims -- but today, the
shaky-camera found-footage style is no longer
fresh.
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Dormant for
years, radioactive parasitic behemoths head for San
Francisco to spawn more of their ugly selves.
Exhausting all non-nuclear military options and
pithy hashtags, our government concocts a plan to
lure the two MUTOs (Massive Unidentified Terrestrial
Organisms) safely out into the pacific with an armed
ICBM. But a pensive Japanese scientist who bemoans
man’s arrogance for thinking we can control nature
has a better idea: a legendary “ancient alpha
predator” who alone can restore balance to the
planet, “We call him,” Serizawa says dramatically,
“Godzilla!” Sixty years after the
original atomic mutation first emerged
from Tokyo Bay, the franchise is getting a
much-deserved big-budget reboot. Working here where
other modern incarnations failed are well-executed
CGI and an engaging yet humbling plot.
Breaking Bad’s Bryan Cranston (great to see him
back in a hazmat suit, by the way) sets up the
storyline as a ridiculed American engineer obsessed
with echo/seismic activity that he’s convinced isn’t
what the government says it is. Years pass
and Cranston returns to what is now a quarantined
zone drawing his estranged son into the very
conspiracy that separated them to begin with.
Meanwhile, the MUTOs do a fair job of
ravaging everything in their path including, of
course, Las Vegas which is near the historic
epicenter of much of our early atomic testing.
It all ends with an epic uña-a-uña battle, the
results of which I won’t spoil except to say though
he has remarkable little screen time, Godzilla
lets-loose with plenty of trademark BTUs and does not
disappoint. Absent humor,
regrettably, Director Gareth Edwards delivers a
suitable tribute to the king of movie monsters here
though less can be said of the live
performers. Cranston doesn’t disappoint and neither
does Ken Watanabe (Inception)
as Dr. Serizawa but the usually adept David
Strathairn (The Bourne
Legacy, Good Night, and Good Luck) is constricted
as the Navy admiral in charge of manifesting man’s
desire but inability to control nature.
Still, my hand to Godzilla, this is one of the
best monster films of the past quarter-century.
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©
2008, 2020 Chris Miksanek, The Med City Movie Guy
Last updated:
2020 November 14 Contact: chris @ miksanek.com
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