No Time to Die

Director: Cary Joji Fukunaga
Starring: Daniel Craig, Léa Seydoux, Rami Malek, Lashana Lynch, Ben Whishaw, Naomie Harris, Jeffrey Wright, Christoph Waltz, Ralph Fiennes, Billy Magnussen, Ana de Armas, David Dencik, Rory Kinnear, Dali Benssalah, Lisa-Dorah Sonnet
Running Time: 163 min.
Rating: PG-13

**The Following Review Contains Major Plot Spoilers For 'No Time to Die'**

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

The first thing that jumps out at you after viewing the 25th Bond installment, No Time to Die is that it's really over. Daniel Craig's done as 007. We knew the day was coming, and yet, how it happens still manages to leave the kind of indelible mark that should separate this film from the pack. To an extent, it does, covering a lot of the same ground we've seen in many of Craig's previous outings while taking full advantage of a gargantuan, somewhat punishing running time to do so. It goes all out, but the most shocking revelation is that they chose to make a direct sequel to Spectre, which could be viewed as a victory for those appreciating series continuity. That's not a practice Bond producers have historically embraced, often moving from one entry to the next while only occasionally connecting the dots or leaving some Easter eggs behind.

You'd think all this suggests a forward-looking franchise, but the opposite's true, as different directors have conformed to a traditional 007 template that's been strikingly similar in tone, plot and execution. Cary Fukunaga rarely breaks from it, giving us the usual hits and misses we've grown to expect and have associated with this Bond run. There are some absolutely spectacular sequences followed by others that don't quite work, with the latter magnified by a bloated length filled with expository scenes that sometimes halts the momentum. But if Spectre dissenters can get past this picking up where that mildly received entry left off, it's satisfying in a lot of ways. Unlikely to supplant either Skyfall or Casino Royale as a definitive favorite, it should still justifiably impress many fans by further emphasizing just how much Craig's brought to the table during his Bond reign.

After a chilling flashback shows a young Madeleine Swann witnessing the death of her mother at the hands of future bio-terrorist Lyutsifer Safin (Rami Malek), we flashforward to the present where James Bond (Craig) is vacationing in Matera with Madeleine (Léa Seydoux) following the capture and imprisonment of Blofeld (Christoph Waltz). But when Bond's trip to Vesper Lynd's grave leads to a violent ambush by a group of mercenaries, he leaves Madeleine behind, believing she betrayed him. 

It's now five years later when a retired Bond is contacted in Jamaica by Felix Leiter (Jeffrey Wright) and his new colleague Logan Ash (Billy Magnussen) regarding a bioweapon that's been developed by kidnapped MI6 scientist Dr. Valdo Obruchev (David Dencik). Despite warnings from his 007 successor, Nomi (Lashana Lynch) not to get involved, Bond agrees to help Leiter, stepping out of retirement and on a head-to-head collision with the dangerous Safin. Initially picking off Spectre agents, he has a much more ambitious, demented plan of world domination in store, intending to use Madeleine as a pawn in that game. Terrifyingly obsessed with finishing the trauma he inflicted on her as a child, it'll be up to Bond to get to him first. 

A nearly half-hour prologue that features the snowbound Safin/Madeleine home invasion flashback sequence is unnerving and suspenseful in all the right ways, letting us know under no uncertain terms that what happens here will reverberate through the rest of the narrative and pay off later. And it mostly does. The surprise attack on Bond and call-back to Eva Green's Vesper Lynd might be the first time we've seen him attempt to process her death, serving as sort of a catharsis for fans who finally receive open acknowledgment from the many screenwriters credited on this project of her enduring impact on 007 and the franchise as a whole. 

Of course, the cruel joke here is that all this Vesper reverence occurs in a movie where Léa Sedoux is given the enormous role many would have liked to see reserved for Green had she continued past Casino Royale. There really wasn't any reason to believe Seydoux's character would even be back following Spectre, much less be such a focus that she seems to get as much screen time as Craig. But while still not sharing the greatest chemistry with him, she does give a much stronger performance in her second outing, and that's while being given about four or five times more to do this time around.

After an exhilarating opening and promising set-up, the action starts settling into a more predictable rhythm, with some occasional greatness thrown in. A typically inventive opening title sequence accompanied by Billie Eilish's serviceable but somewhat sleepy main theme leads us into Bond's re-emergence as an MI6 agent, which M. (Ralph Fiennes) resists. If the latter's carelessness can at least be partially blamed for the calamity that brought him back, the usual attempts to establish Bond as this reckless rule breaker who'd rather die than do things "by the book" are offset by all the pull and support he still has within the agency.

Since it's basically established that Moneypenny (Naomie Harris) and Q (Ben Whishaw) will do anything for Bond, retired or not, this leaves the only potential conflict within the ranks to be with his 00 stand-in, Nomi, well played by Lashana Lynch. Any fans bent out of shape that he's somehow been "replaced" should know it seems to be in title only, and not for long. She's very much a supporting player in Bond's story and at times seems as much on his side as Felix, Penny or Q, and probably even more than M. 

Ana de Armas' show-stealing turn as Paloma, a CIA agent assisting Bond in infiltrating a Spectre party in Cuba, is hands down the best performance in the film, supporting or otherwise. Playing a character claiming to only have three weeks training, she quickly wins us over as this bubbly, hyperactive, nervous personality who throws caution to the wind while also having a great sense of humor. Unlike any previous "Bond Girl" it almost feels demeaning to refer to her as such, as de Armas cultivates this easy, effortless flirty rapport with Craig that no one's quite had until now.

Full of surprises, the kick-ass Paloma proves to not only be deceptively dangerous, but the consummate pro whose unusual approach belies an almost astounding level of competence. Her stay lasts only about 20 minutes but does de Armas ever make the most what should be a throwaway role. That the film never fully regains that same energy following her exit should serve as a sign that this is the kind of fresh, contemporary character producers should be thinking about when considering directions the franchise could potentially go.  

If there's a drawback in the screenplay, it's that viewers will feel as if they're far ahead of Bond and the other characters in terms of the plot. There are points where it seems we're literally waiting for them to catch up to the grand scheme (which is no less absurd than some others in the franchise) and who's behind it. That's not to say there aren't still some really great moments like Bond's prison encounter with Blofeld or his emotionally charged reunion with Madeleine, now with a young daughter named Mathilde (Lisa-Dorah Sonnet). While it's not exactly a shocker whose child this is, the idea of Bond as a father has been unexplored, infusing the proceedings with a welcome dynamic that raises the stakes considerably, adding a fair amount of tension to what's already a strong final act.

Largely absent through much of the film's middle portion, Rami Malek's disturbed, disfigured Safin doesn't get as much screen time as you'd expect, but it still kind of works, building up the myth of this character until he finally unleashes hell on Bond. Judging by the end result, he almost has to be considered one of 007's more formidable challengers, with a fairly intriguing backstory that enables Malek to calmly, creepily get under his adversary's skin as a villain completely convinced he's the victimized, misunderstood hero. 

Saffin may not fully succeed in his global plan, he's able to do something no one has in setting off a chain of events that eventually take out Bond. The image of a shot, poisoned 007 standing atop Safin's headquarters as the missiles descend upon the island is about as emotional an end to Craig's run that you could imagine, especially given what Bond leaves behind. And like Spectre before it, the look of this island station is awe-inspiring, with production designer Mark Tildesley successfully paying homage to some of the franchise's classic settings of decade's past. All of it converges as a fitting close for Craig, who's always been underappreciated in the role, his performances wrongly perceived as being only as good as the entries in which he's appeared. It's a problem that plagued his predecessors, but no actor since Connery has done more to overcome it.

If it took Craig's exit from this notoriously risk-averse property to give us something completely different and unexpected, so be it. While they weren't really given much of a choice considering the circumstances, any serious backlash will be offset by the inevitability that this series will soon get a fresh coat of paint anyway, if not a hard reboot that goes beyond the recasting of its iconic protagonist. Whether that's something to look forward to is debatable, as we can certainly do a whole lot worse than No Time to Die. Either way, it carries a great sense of finality, sending 007 out on top and making it very clear that the Bond we've known for the past fifteen years is gone. What's left in his wake is a mixture of dread and anticipation for what's next.                    

Spectre

Director: Sam Mendes
Starring: Daniel Craig, Christoph Waltz, Léa Seydoux, Ben Whishaw, Naomie Harris, Dave Bautista, Andrew Scott, Monica Bellucci, Ralph Fiennes
Running Time: 148 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

There's always this feeling of excitement accompanying the announcement of the new actor cast as James Bond. Then, after a few films starring this selection, familiarity starts to set in and the conversation inevitably shifts to when he'll be replaced, and who's next. It's little wonder so many actors are reluctant to accept the role, knowing they'll just serve as a placeholder for whomever succeeds them, regardless of the quality of their performance. Anyone taking the part has to know that going in and be comfortable with it, at least for the duration of their run.

It now appears we've reached that tipping point with Daniel Craig, once again tremendous in his fourth outing as 007 and the franchise's twenty-fourth film, Spectre. Faced with the unenviable task of not only following up one of the strongest entries in 2012's Skyfall, but remaining engaged and entertaining when (forgive the pun) the writing's on the wall regarding his future as Bond. This is likely it, and he exits having done things with the character few before him can claim, despite being hamstrung by decades-long formula that's loosened a bit thanks to his efforts.

It's true that the films take the shape of the actor playing Bond more than they do the selected director, who is clearly there to carry out a very specific task. Of course, their job is to anonymously serve as a carrier for the Broccoli family's creative vision of the character Ian Fleming created in 1952. It's not a job that goes to a boundary-breaking Quentin Tarantino, but someone who won't rock the boat and is capable of leaving an imprint on the franchise that isn't distinctively their own. It's at once the series' greatest strength and biggest liability. And never has that been more evident than in Spectre, which is quite a bit better than some have made it out to be.

While this is thankfully no Quantum of Solace, it's a considerable and expected step-down from Skyfall, even while sharing the same director in Sam Mendes. He definitely "gets it," but a weaker, more convoluted script results in bloated running time that makes you wish we could just do away with some of the traditional formalities germane to the 007 property. But it's worth mentioning that there's a section of the film (really most of the last hour) that's absolutely amazing, harkening back to the best installments of the 60's and 70's. What precedes that is less successful, but in heavily drawing from its own past for inspiration, at least some kind of an attempt is made to create continuity from one film to the next. Whether this approach is retained moving forward is a bit more doubtful.

After a spectacular opening chase sequence set during Mexico's Day of the Dead festival in which Bond (Craig) thwarts a terrorist bombing and kills their leader, an encounter with the man's mysterious widow (Monica Belucci) alerts him to the existence of a secret terrorist organization known as Spectre. Acting on her information and a posthumously videotaped message from M. (Judi Dench), 007 attempts to infiltrate the secret group, despite being indefinitely suspended by the current M. (Ralph Fiennes) for breaching protocol.

With the help of Moneypenny (Naomie Harris) and Q. (Ben Whishaw), Bond is able to get uncomfortably close enough to identify Spectre's leader, Franz Oberhauser (Christoph Waltz), as well as his right-hand assassin, Mr. Hinx (Dave Bautista). Armed with this new information, his mission soon shifts toward protecting Dr. Madeline Swann (Léa Seydoux), the psychologist daughter of a former member marked for assassination. As Bond discovers that this sinister organization and the man behind it are more closely tied to his past than he could have imagined, he must fight this dangerous enemy while facing of the possibility that Britain's "00" program could be shut down for good.

As evidenced by that description, the plot is more overstuffed and complicated than necessary, as are a lot of the Bond films. At times it seems to jumps through hoops to relay what's actually a pretty simple story, frequently getting bogged down with exposition and backstory, at least in the opening hour (save for the thrilling opening sequence). With a screenplay outlining events as if we've never seen a previous Bond entry, it's a certainty James will go on an "unauthorized mission." That he'll be reprimanded for it and disobey direct orders anyway.  And we even get the rather predictable threat of shutting down of the "00" program, a sub-plot that exists primarily so Ralph Fiennes and Naomie Harris have something to do. It does boast a satisfying payoff that makes sense, but it's a bit of a trudge to get there as M. engages in burocratic boardroom battles with an intelligence agency executive (played by Andrew Scott).

Much of the first half consists of Bond following multiple clues that lead to the unveiling of Spectre and a lot goes right once that reveal is made. While I'm not sure if I'm even allowed to talk about the identity of Bond's nemesis, he is a huge, familiar name in the 007 canon and it's worth praising the screenwriters for their renewed focus on series continuity, picking up where Skyfall left off in that regard. If anything, the filmmakers are almost overly ambitious in this installment, determined to retcon nearly everything that occurred in the Craig films by tying it all together here. Even if they bite off more than they can possibly chew, I really appreciated the effort and dedication involved, especially since one of the major problems facing the franchise is that nothing seems to carry over from one film to the next.

There's this weird mishmash of backstory from previous Bond entries and Fleming's novels, but somehow it all works and once the action gets going, it's a real thrill ride, especially the chase and fight sequences involving 007 and Oberhauser's Oddjob-inspired henchman, Mr. Hinx, played by wrestler-turned-actor Dave Bautista. Beyond the sheer physicality of the part, it doesn't require much, but he plays it perfectly deadpan and it's been a while since we've had a fun, well-cast henchman in the series whose fate we're actually invested in.

What Léa Seydoux adds to the equation is completely subjective considering how many differing opinions they'll be regarding her standing among previous Bond Girls. Despite her late, somewhat overly drawn out introduction, she equates herself well with an impressive combo of tenaciousness and vulnerability. Dr. Madeline Swann is no Vesper Lynd from Casino Royale (as a one of the film's most memorable moments actively reminds us) or Teresa di Vicenzo from On Her Majesty's Secret Service, but for this film's purposes she really doesn't need to be. And it's not like she'll be back, which can be a problem in and of itself.

This is supposedly one of the most expensive Bond films ever made and while the lack of Oscar-nominated Skyfall cinematographer Roger Deakins is evident, replacement Hoyte van Hoytema can't be criticized for failing to equal the movie that looked like no other in the series. There's no shortage of memorable images here either, but where it makes up the most ground is in its production design, especially during the encounter at Oberhauser's desert compound (shockingly, a real home that's for sale) in the last hour. This base might be the best Bond action toy set never sold in stores and everything in this entire section is just about perfect, recalling not only the golden age 007 installments but an undiscovered cult sci-fi classic from the 70's.

The suspenseful build-up, the setting and Waltz's calm but disarmingly creepy performance lift this eleventh hour showdown in the desert above much of what came before. Technical choices are spot-on and even some smaller character ones, like Oberhauser's attire, which seems more suited for brunch at the yacht club than torturing 007. Waltz sometimes catches flak for playing variations on the same charming sociopathic villain from film-to-film, but if ever a case can be made for it continuing indefinitely, it's here. His casting was a masterstroke, and if the rumors of him returning are contingent with Craig staying on, then it's a big loss. Both in terms of continuity and the fact he's playing a villain we thought we got enough of.

Something happens at this compound that's one of the the most unintentionally meta moments in recent Bond movies. As Oberhauser threatens to physically invade James' brain and erase his memory with this bizarre device, the easy joke is that it won't even matter since in the Bond universe all is usually forgotten by the next film anyway. The best thing about Skyfall, and what Spectre continues, is rewarding loyal viewers with attention to detail and a backstory that significantly improves the entire experience.

This era found its perfect Bond in Craig, who brought a darker, grittier, more realistic vibe that fit the current times. There's been a self-contained, Dark Knight-esque feeling to his movies and now with him bowing out, it's likely we'll not only have to start from scratch all over again with a new actor, but one or more new directors. And as frustrating as that thought is, it's still absolutely necessary for a franchise that's survived and thrived by continuing to rejuvenate itself. Whichever direction the series goes, we can only hope it finds a way to step even further out of its comfort zone.               
    

Django Unchained

  
Director: Quentin Tarantino
Starring: Jamie Foxx, Christoph Waltz, Leonardo DiCaprio, Kerry Washington, Samuel L. Jackson, Don Johnson, Walton Goggins, Dennis Christopher
Running Time: 165 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Each time Quentin Tarantino comes out with a new film I find myself saying that this will be the one where I've finally had it. I'll say he's gone the revenge fantasy route too times many times, overwrites, casts the same people, fetishizes violence and music and seems more interested in making his movies "cool" than having them work. Then it's released and all those things end up being mostly true. And it doesn't even matter. It's still the greatest thing out there. He gets away with this because there's only one Quentin and no one else out there is remotely capable of doing what he does, even if many have tried in the 90's, only to embarrass themselves.

Tarantino's writing is so idiosyncratic it's some kind of  miracle any actor can effectively deliver it and maybe even more of one that his crazy vision can be translated onto the screen, even by the person responsible for it. Django Unchained is his highest-grossing movie to date and also his longest, clocking in at nearly 3 hours to make it the longest of the year's nine Best Picture nominees. And it feels it. Yet, that doesn't matter either because it seems as if you're too glued to the screen to even care and on the receiving end of at least two or three movies for the price of one.

Set in the Deep South in 1858, a slave named Django (Jamie Foxx) is suddenly given a shot at freedom when he's rescued by Dr. King Schultz (Christoph Waltz), a German dentist and bounty hunter who grants him that freedom in exchange for helping him track down the Brittle Brothers, with whom Django has a brutal history. Feeling responsible for the man, Schultz takes him on as his apprentice, showing him the ropes of bounty hunting and even supplying him with a new wardrobe.

Schultz's ultimate act of generosity is in helping Django rescue his slave wife Broomhilda (Kerry Washington) from her cruel but charismatic owner Calvin Candie (Leonardo DiCaprio), whose "Candyland" plantation is a home to slaves being forced to fight to the death for entertainment in "Mandingo" fights. Manipulating their way into Candie's good graces, Schultz and Django must find a way to outsmart him and his right-hand house slave Stephen (Samuel L. Jackson). But escaping with Broomhilda and their lives won't be so easy, especially as Django's conflicted emotions about horrors of his slave past and his new responsibilities as a bounty hunter rise to the surface, threatening to blow their cover.        

It's odd describing the first half of a film dealing with such an ugly topic as being a fun watch but that's just what it is because of how Tarantino presents the personal and professional partnership that develops between Schultz and Django. There's an undeniable thrill in seeing this slave freed and given the opportunity to extract revenge on those who oppressed him. On top of it, it's interesting to witness all the double talk and scams Schultz uses to help him make it happen. Of the criticisms leveled against the film, the most popular is that Django is merely a spectator in his own story, rescued by the white man and unable to think or act on his own. But how much autonomy can he reasonably have? He's still only freed slave. The reality of the situation is that he won't be accepted on his own as a bounty hunter because of his race and he'd need a great deal of help pulling this off. It's simply a story requirement and nothing more.

Django's marginalization isn't a flaw and Foxx's role is clearly lead (or at least co-lead) but Waltz is such a titanic and charismatic screen presence that's he's basically tricked everyone into thinking otherwise. Much like in Inglourious Basterds, he steals show and there are a remarkable number of similarities between the two  characters, with the key difference of course being that Schultz is a German freeing slaves instead of a Nazi Jew hunter. It's fascinating to watch Waltz give a slick, fast-talking, witty performance that touches many of the same bases he did as Col. Hans Landa while this time around earning audience adoration instead of hatred. And Waltz accomplishes all this without really ever making the Schultz "feel" like the hero, but instead just as ruthless and calculating as the white slave owners he's hunting. Not to mention a whole lot smarter.

Foxx's job in comparison would almost seem to be a thankless one in that he must play the strong, silent avenger but he hasn't gotten enough attention for just how much of that quiet intensity and pain he has to convey when they infiltrate Candyland and he must come face-to-face with the atrocities of his own past while staying in character to effectively execute their scheme. It's here where we start wondering if he's enjoying his new role maybe a bit too much and possibly getting too cocky to see it through to the end. There's a great duality going on here and it's difficult to believe that Tarantino's original choice for the role, Will Smith, could have pulled it off better, or even as well, as Foxx. Smith's reasoning for turning it down are well-documented, confirming everything we've already known (feared?) about how he approaches his career, or rather his brand. That his problems with the script boiled down to " Must Be Hero" and "Good Guy Must Shoot Bad Guy" make me wonder if he even read the thing, or maybe just skipped the last fifty pages.

DiCaprio, on the other hand, has never met a role out of his comfort zone or above his ability level   that he won't tackle. On paper, he would certainly seem ill-suited for a racist plantation owner, but yet again, he gives it his all and makes it work, turning in a diabolical, scenery chewing performance as Candie. He's all at once funny and scary, with a good argument to be made that the film doesn't really hit its stride until his arrival. And he's not even playing the most detestable character. That (dis)honor goes to Samuel L. Jackson, whose house slave Stephen might just be the most reprehensible character the actor's played in his career. So sickening in his subservience to Candie and the abuse of his own race that it's difficult to watch, the whole performance is kind of scary in how it touches a nerve and just makes us uncomfortable every moment he's on screen, including a scene where we realize he's more observant than we originally thought.

No Tarantino film would be complete without appearances from veteran actors like Don Johnson (memorable early on as slave owner "Big Daddy"), Dennis Christopher, Tom Wopat, Russ Tamblyn, Tom Savini and Bruce Dern. Jonah Hill also briefly appears when Tarantino accomplishes the impossible with an absurd gag involving the Klu Klux Klan you can't imagine would ever get laughs, but somehow does. Of everyone, Kerry Washington seems the least essential as Broomhilda, but even that role's challenging and it would be difficult to come up with suggestions as to who else could have tackled it as well. True to form, the director saves an almost aggressively distracting cameo for himself in the last act that ranks as the most unintentionally hilarious few minutes of screen time he's had as an actor in one of his own films. Complete with a bizarre accent and cowboy hat, his appearance is so crazy that it works almost in spite of itself, even as the filmmaker proves once again that he probably shouldn't give up his day job anytime soon. It's a good thing we're having too much fun to care.

Unsurprisingly, the soundtrack is as much a character in the film as any person in it, utilizing the most music of any of his outings since the 90's, with a big standout being the use of Jim Croce's classic "I Got a Name" in a sequence where Django first comes into his own as a bounty hunter. For me, the only questionable musical choice comes in the final act, as Rick Ross' "100 Black Coffins," just seems too glaringly modern and "on-the-nose" to fit amidst the film's setting. But that's a minor quibble. With Tarantino's longtime editor Sally Menke having passed away, the glaring question going into this was what effect, if any, it would have on the finished product. Of course, looking at the running time the easiest joke to make is that there was no editing at all, but the truth is actually that the film holds together surprisingly well under the circumstances, and while some action probably could have been cut, there's good reason to be grateful for everything that got in.

Whereas Inglourious Basterds mostly played it straight until its third act, morphing into an alternate history revenge fantasy flick, Django is a revenge fantasy through and through, from the opening credits onward. It's also a spaghetti Western, a blaxploitation picture and a buddy film.The biggest surprise is in how it starts as an action comedy not too far removed from something like Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid and slowly morphs into something darker, calling the country out on its own shamefully racist past as the title character steps up to take ownership of his own story. When analyzing Tarantino's films, the popular approach is always to compare them, not to other works, but his own, which is unusual considering how many influences and inspirations he incorporates. Maybe it's finally time to admit he's more original than we give him credit for. 
            

Burning Questions from the 2013 Oscars

Boy, that opening monologue sure was long, wasn't it?

And wasn't it kind of a mess?

Didn't Seth MacFarlane initially seem very nervous?

Can you blame him?

Is there a more thankless task than hosting this show?

Will the Mr. Skin website see increased traffic now that MacFarlane has outed all those actresses' nude scenes?

Wasn't Tommy Lee Jones cracking a smile a great start?

Did your enthusiasm dampen when you realized that would be the highlight of the entire night?

Did it truly test the theory that William Shatner makes everything he's in better? 

Wouldn't it have been great if HE sang all the nominated original songs?

Were Charlize, Channing Tatum, JGL and Daniel Radcliffe blackmailed into being involved in that?

But didn't they all do a pretty good job?

All other complaints aside, doesn't MacFarlane have a tremendous singing voice?

Wasn't there entirely too much singing (as usual)?

Between that and Kristin Chenoweth on the red carpet, didn't this feel more like The Tonys?

So, MacFarlane or Hathaway/Franco?

Did everyone immediately go 0 for 1 on their Oscar scorecard when Christoph Waltz was announced for Supporting Actor?

Am I the only one still amazed that Beasts of the Southern Wild's score wasn't nominated?

Is Roger Deakins ever going to win an Oscar?

And if he does, by that point, will he even care?

How tasteless was the Jaws music playing the winners off?

But wasn't it still really funny?

Wait, THAT was their "tribute" to 50 Years of Bond?

Looking at that montage, isn't it astonishing just how few truly great Bond movies there have been?

I knew Connnery would be a stretch, but couldn't they at least get a couple of the Bonds to show up?

George Lazenby and Timothy Dalton were busy?

Did Shirley Bassey sing the hell out of "Goldfinger" or what?

But shouldn't it have started a medley?

How about Duran Duran?

Paul McCartney?

Chris Cornell?

Carly Simon?

Didn't the pacing of the show feel particularly painful this year?

Wasn't that obvious when we were only an hour in?

How about John Travolta's mispronunciation of "Les Miserables?"

Were you thinking, "Join the club, John?"

Did you notice how little "singing" there was during the musicals tribute?

And out of all the classic Hollywood musicals they pick Chicago and Dreamgirls?

Remember when Dreamgirls was "a lock" to win Best Picture?

And Eddie Murphy for Supporting Actor?

Should I be proud that I still haven't seen Dreamgirls?

Or that I can't remember whether or not I've even seen Chicago?

Can Hugh Jackman host this again? 

How funny was Mark Wahlberg trying to convince the audience that there really was a tie?

How bad is it that, despite the tie, I STILL got the Sound Editing category wrong?

Were you wondering how insane it would be if there was a tie in a major category like Best Actress?

Am I the only one who has no recollection of Christopher Plummer winning Best Supporting Actor last year?

Why does the always classy, gracious Anne Hathaway get such a bad wrap?

Is there something wrong with wanting to win an Academy Award and being thankful for it?

Wasn't her husband great in Drive?


Didn't MacFarlane drastically improve when he started mocking the show and his own hosting of it?

Isn't it kind of cool that the Academy gave a lifetime achievement Oscar to Hal Needham, the director of Body Slam?

Any bets on whether that film was included in his highlight reel?

Can we just all agree now that the Jurassic Park theme is John Williams' greatest composition?

While Streisand was fitting, wouldn't it have been nice to have a montage of the late, great Marvin Hamlisch's screen contributions?

Am I saying that partially so I get to see The Swimmer make it onto the Oscar telecast?

Shouldn't we cut Kristen Stewart a break since there's a good chance we would have been bored presenting at this show too? 

Did it occur to anyone that it could have just been nerves?

Can you believe I'm defending Kristen Stewart?

Is it wrong that I laughed at MacFarlane's joke about Rex Reed reviewing Adele's performance?

Did it top his other one about John Wilkes Booth being the only actor to really get inside Lincoln's head?

Isn't that song from Chasing Ice great?

Wasn't it a missed opportunity not having Scarlett Johansson there performing it?

Charlize Theron and Quentin Tarantino...neighbors?

Since the Affleck snub, did everyone's chances for correctly guessing Best Director go up in smoke?

Isn't Jennifer Lawrence's maniacal laugh in the diner scene awesome?

Could they have possibly picked a better clip?

After that fall, should she also get an Oscar for stuntwork?

Wasn't her reaction just further proof of how cool and self-depricating she is?

What does it say about how much of a lock Daniel-Day Lewis was that Meryl Streep didn't even need to open the envelope?

Can you believe that massive spoiler clip they showed for Flight?

Isn't it always great to see Jack Nicholson at the Oscars?

Doesn't The First Lady deserve a lot credit for agreeing to do this and doing it well?

Could you actually picture Nancy Reagan announcing Platoon as Best Picture in '87? 

Wouldn't this make for a fun project of matching previous First Ladies with coinciding Best Picture winners of their terms?

Given how much the Obamas have publicly been supporting Beasts of the Southern Wild, weren't you a little concerned before Michelle opened that envelope?

How cool was it that Ben Aflleck thanked the director of Gigli, in his speech?

How many people picked up on it?

And who ever thought Affleck would get to the point where that would happen?

With that win (and beard) has he now fully completed his transformation into the new George Clooney?

Was being snubbed for Best Director the best thing that could have ever happened to him?

Will the media have their knives sharpened for MacFarlane?

Was the whole night him trying to find a balance between crude humor and song-and-dance routines?

Sometimes successfully, sometimes not? 

Am I wrong in thinking there's way too much Broadway-style theatrics for a show supposedly honoring movies?

Even though it didn't come anywhere close to being the longest show in the Academy's history, didn't it kind of feel that way? 

Wasn't that a strange show?

So, who's hosting the Oscars next year?

Water For Elephants

Director: Francis Lawrence
Starring: Robert Pattinson, Reese Witherspoon, Christoph Waltz, Hal Holbrook, Paul Schneider 
Running Time: 121 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Poor Reese Witherspoon. Forced to share the screen with an untrained sideshow spectacle who's poked and prodded at for audiences' enjoyment as an evil carnival barker urges them to pour out their pockets in hopes of getting a glimpse. No, it's not Rosie the elephant I'm referring to, but her other co-star, Robert Pattinson, who now faces the challenge of trying to be taken seriously as a dramatic actor after being established as a consumer product studios can make money off of. And outside of the Twilight franchise, even that assumption is uncertain. He's got a long road ahead of him and probably knows it, but all things considered, this is a decent first step. Water for Elephants is the right type of project for him to get his feet wet, playing to his strengths while offering him as few opportunities as possible to embarrass himself. So that's good news in itself. It also helps the film is an easy, enjoyable watch and at least slightly less ridiculous than I expected.

Adapted from Sara Gruen's popular novel and directed with old school flare by Francis Lawrence, the film employs one of my favorite narrative devices: An old man looking back on his life. Unfortunately, that promising device is executed about as clumsily as possible, treated as a mere afterthought before the film flashes back to The Great Depression when 23-year-old Cornell veterinary student Jacob Jankowski (Pattinson) loses both his parents in a car crash. Adrift in life, he starts riding the rails, ending up on the Benzini Brothers Circus Train. He meets the controlling August (Christoph Waltz) the circus owner and animal trainer who's married to the beautiful Marlena (Witherspoon), and prone to unpredictable fits of sadistic rage, treating her almost as badly as he does his animals. After an awkward first meeting, August hires Jacob as the circus vet but it becomes a complicated working arrangement when Jacob starts to fall for Marlena. It might be the one element in the circus that August can't control, with the results of that fledgling relationship having potentially dangerous consequences for all involved.

The big draw here is the circus setting and period atmosphere. From a technical standpoint it's virtually flawless and looks great. There are a bunch of Oscar nominees involved in the costuming, production, art direction and set design and it really shows. From a visual standpoint it actually feels like The Greatest Show on Earth or one of those old style Hollywood epics from the 1950's they don't attempt anymore. The script, however, makes it feel slightly smaller than it should. More like a TV movie, as the doomed lovers plot can't always keep up with the inspired circus backdrop. Pattinson, looking less pale and vampire-like than usual, effectively broods and longingly stares at Reese, but it's clearly the more experienced Witherspoon who's carrying this. She's a genuine movie star in the truest sense and the unattainable Marlena character fits her like a glove. Unlike her role, Pattinson's could have easily been swapped out with just about any other actor in his age range or older with no harm done to the film, but he holds his own, giving what resembles at times a passably strong performance. The two have okay (but not great) chemistry and their age difference isn't much of a factor. If anything, it's interesting to see a younger man and older women for a change, and an argument could be made it better suits the nature of this particular story of the protagonist being shown the ropes.

Watching I couldn't help but wish everything else had as much bite as Christoph Waltz's psycho circus ringmaster. Again channeling his sadistic streak from Inglourious Basterds he seems to be the go-to sociopath in movies these days, infusing each scene with his co-stars with a genuine sense of danger. There are points we fear for their lives, not to mention the life of the elephant. Besides the framing device mishap (which strangely has the younger Jacob narrating the story even though his older self, played by Hal Holbrook, is telling it in the present day) my biggest complaint is the film does lack that extra edge to put it over the top. Whether there was a fear in alienating faithful devotees of the novel, Pattinson fans or just a concern with preserving that audience friendly PG-13 tone, there are times it seems to be playing it safe when it really needs to cut loose with the romance and violence. Other than that it's difficult to pinpoint much Water for Elephants does wrong, and believe me I was looking. Chalk it up to low expectations if you must, but there's something to be said for telling a simple, but visually compelling story in a smart, straightforward way.
         

The Green Hornet

Director: Michel Gondry
Starring: Seth Rogen, Jay Chou, Christoph Waltz, Cameron Diaz, Edward James Olmos, David Harbour, Tom Wilkinson
Running Time: 119 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

When it was announced Seth Rogen would be playing the title character in an updated big screen version of The Green Hornet, I, along with many others (himself probably included), wondered how exactly he'd be able to do it, as well as co-write the screenplay. The news that it wouldn't be a slapstick comedy, but attempt to remain true to the roots of the original comic books and short-lived 60's television series best known for introducing Bruce Lee to American audiences, only kicked my skepticism up a notch. So now, after actually watching Michel Gondry's unfairly maligned The Green Hornet I'm still not exactly sure how Rogen was able to pull this off and have it work so well for him, but he did, and in a way that plays to his strengths and remains relatively faithful to the spirit of the source material. In a big surprise for a mainstream action comedy, much less a superhero movie, this is a cleverly written script full of smart choices that makes far fewer mistakes than you'd imagine. As unpopular as I'll be for saying it, this might be better than Iron Man and its underwhelming sequel, which everyone seemed to drool over for no reason other than the performances of Downey and Paltrow (which in all fairness was a pretty good reason). But the story here is more involving, and because Rogen and company wisely recognize and embrace the genre's ridiculousness, it ends up being a lot less less ridiculous than you'd think.

You know you're off to a good start when you've already got a hilarious James Franco cameo (as a goofy mob boss) a mere ten minutes in. Between that and a backstory for the protagonist that's actually somewhat tremendous, it lays the groundwork for the rest of the film nicely. Rogen is Britt Reed, the slacker slob son of Los Angeles newspaper tycoon James Reid (Tim Wilkinson), a strict authoritarian who never thought his son could amount to anything. When the elder Reid suddenly drops dead from an allergic reaction to a bee sting, Britt must abandon his hard partying lifestyle to step up and run the company. Despite firing nearly all his father's staff, he decides to keep mechanic Kato (Jay Chou) and after the two go out for a night of mayhem on the town they unwillingly (at first) become wanted criminals who land on the front page of his paper. Realizing he now has a shot at fulfilling his lifelong superhero dreams, Britt assumes the identity of a masked avenger named the Green Hornet and comes up with the idea of being the first superhero to pose as a criminal to infiltrate L.A's crime ring. As his ego and delusions grow so does the power of Benjamin Chudnofsky (Christoph Waltz), a crazed, insecure Russian mobster worrying his best days as a villain are behind him and looking to make a big impact by taking out the Hornet and Kato. 

My familiarity with The Green Hornet as a superhero property is limited to only catching snippets of the show as a kid so I'm hardly aware of how well this nails all the tiny details. But you don't have to be an expert (or even know the character at all) to pick up on the smart choices Rogen and his Superbad co-writer Evan Goldberg made in updating it. They come up with reasonable solutions as to how to introduce Kato, give The Green Hornet his name, pair them together, introduce the Black Beauty" car and throw them into crime fighting. With lot of that they couldn't just fall back on the comics and old TV series and were forced to come up with explanations of their own. When you consider that, this plays as almost a prequel to anyone familiar with the franchise, without leaving longtime fans in the dust. What's interesting is that The Green Hornet TV Series (which ran only two seasons in the late 60's) played it straight as an action drama, whereas the legendary Batman show starring Adam West shared the same writer in during the same era, but was presented as a campy comedy. This film has more in common with the latter and while that approach would definitely result in disaster with some superhero franchises, it's fine for the Hornet because, let's face it, the whole idea behind it is kind of silly anyway. Add Rogen to the equation and it becomes even sillier, so the best thing to do was just to run with that, which they do.

Gondry (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind) gets the tone just right and knows enough to give the film enough of an edge so everything doesn't seem like a total joke. In that sense it's comparable to Kick-Ass in featuring a protagonist as much surprised that he's a superhero as we are, which is why Rogen's casting is gold. He's someone who always seems like a fan at heart anyway, so he's never sold to us as an actual crimefighter, but as some lucky slacker with an inferiority complex who inherited his daddy's empire (a storyline more developed here than it was in Iron Man). Yet Rogen makes Britt likably goofy, even in between his fits of rage and delusional insistence that Kato's just his "sidekick." Jay Chou deserves a standing ovation for being able to step into that iconic role, and not only avoid comparisons to his famous predecessor, but put his own spin on the part.  No one even remembers who played The Green Hornet (it was Van Williams) but everyone knows Bruce Lee was Kato, which had to make this more difficult for Chou. How many superhero sidekicks more famous than the superheroes?  Chou's take is obviously more comical but he has great chemistry with Rogen and is completely believable as an expert martial artist in the action scenes. But at its core this is really a buddy comedy and about as funny as any of the bromances we'd typically expect to find Rogen starring in.

Any that worries Christoph Waltz would be playing a variation on his charismatic sociopath from Inglourious Basterds for the rest of his career are temporarily unfounded since he makes Chudnofsky as uncharismatic and unsure of himself as possible. It isn't too often you see a villain in a superhero suffering a mid-life crisis. Strangely resembling Ellen Barkin more and more by the day, Cameron Diaz is easily the weakest link as Britt's secretary Lenore Case. As kind of a poor man's Pepper Potts, she brings none of the wit and charm Paltrow did to that similar role and generally just seems all wrong for it. Hollywood's insistence on continually casting her in the same pin-up, air head supermodel roles she played fifteen years ago is ludicrous enough, but what's worse is she doesn't even seem to be trying anymore. That's no fault of Rogen's script, which at least attempts to give her an important function to the plot and avoids trapping her in the typical love interest role. 

Releasing this in 3D was the worst thing that could have happened to it and likely accounted for its poor reception since the story was strong enough to hold its own without a gimmick. So while I agree completely with those who feel it was just a cash grabbing ploy by the studio, the film shouldn't be penalized for everything else it does well. The actions scenes (especially the final sequence) are exciting and the the two-hour running time flies by, but there's nothing here that seems like it would be enhanced by a 3D experience, making me think I got the good end of the deal renting it. You have to figure Rogen must be fan since he really seems to be onto to something in terms of how superhero movies should be approached. Some take themselves too seriously. Others unintentionally seem like lightweight spoofs. By bending a few rules, The Green Hornet gets it right, even if audiences didn't seem to be in the mood.

Inglourious Basterds

Director: Quentin Tarantino
Starring: Brad Pitt, Melanie Laurent, Christoph Waltz, Michael Fassbender, Eli Roth, Diane Kruger, Daniel Bruhl
Running Time: 152 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

There's usually a section in any bookstore where you can find those speculative fiction novels dealing with various alternate history scenarios. The victory of the South in the Civil War. The survival of the Byzantine Empire. Nazi Germany's victory in World War II. Quentin Tarantino uses the pages of those books as toilet paper in Inglourious Basterds, the alternate history to end all alternate histories, and easily his best film since Pulp Fiction. What everyone expected to be another one of his fun  B-movie tributes (this time to Spaghetti Westerns) over-performs considerably to become something far more, representing a giant leap forward for a director who was written off as peaking a while ago. It stands as his least indulgent, most assured effort, playing on all the strengths that were evident in his best work and finding a way to incorporate his cinematic influences and fanboy instincts into a film that's uniquely his. A substantial, focused work from a filmmaker who for the past decade has mostly been prone to taking crazy detours and marching to the beat of his own drum.

It wasn't until it ended that I realized most of the picture is in subtitles, not as if it matters because I was too enraptured in the story to even notice, hanging on every word in each tension filled scene. Tarantino milks every moment for all its worth but as impressive as it is, it's his ability for discovering and fostering underseen talent that reaches unthinkable heights. There's a brilliantly understated performance in this that even eclipses the film containing it, which is saying a lot considering the film itself is a near-masterpiece. This is the rare motion picture that will likely invite many repeated viewings to fully grasp all its crazy complexities and its ending, backdropped against an unforgettable final image, is as controversially cathartic a release as you hope a movie could deliver.

The film opens in German occupied France in 1941 with a visit to a dairy farm from "The Jew Hunter," Nazi Colonel Hans Landa (Christoph Waltz). He suspects the farmer (Denis Menochet) is hiding Jews and after initiating a bizarre conversation about squirrels and rats, he kills the Dreyfus family, found hiding under the floorboards. All except one. Daughter Shosanna (Melanie Laurent) escapes and we catch up with her four years later when under an alias she now operates a small Paris cinema. All is fine until she encounters war hero Frederick Zoller (Daniel Bruhl), who's interested in her theater (and actually a lot more than that) for the premiere of the new Nazi propaganda picture, Nation's Pride, in which he stars and will be attended by Hitler and Joseph Goebbels. She agrees, plotting the ultimate revenge against the Nazis who murdered her family, provided her cover isn't blown first. Revenge is also on the minds of "The Basterds," a gang of Jews who kill and scalp Nazis. Led by Lieutenant Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt), they have a dangerous plan of their own for the premiere involving infiltration from undercover former film critic Archie Hicox (Michael Fassbender) and a famous German film actress turned Allied double agent named Bridget von Hammersmark (Diane Kruger).

What's always been the long-running joke with Tarantino as a filmmaker, even amongst his most loyal supporters, is that he's a far better writer than director and that the guy just loves movies. That former criticism is called into question for the first time with this film while the latter isn't so much a criticism as it is the God's honest truth. But they've manifested themselves as criticisms mainly because he's spent the years following the enormous success of Pulp Fiction applying them to exciting diversions and genre tributes. That's not to say his day at the playground with a Jackie Brown, a Kill Bill or a Death Proof wouldn't be the equivalent of any other director's career best, but this one is more than that. Here he's really channeled and harnessed his self-indulgent tendencies and cinema obsession in the best possible way, applying them for more than just a good time (although this certainly delivers that in spades).

The love for movies does not only factor into the screenplay, for the first time it seems fully ingrained into the entire picture. Like Pulp Fiction, this is divided into chapters (five of them) but what's so curious about that is how each of them is so tightly constructed as to feel like five huge scenes. There are two or three huge ones while the rest wrap around it perfectly. Christoph Waltz is in most of them and his Landa is a Nazi unlike any we've seen depicted on film before. Rather than project him as pure evil personified, Waltz plays him as charming, intelligent and slick. His chief motivation really is simply doing his job and doing it well and it's that approach that makes the character so much more chillingly terrifying than it could possibly be otherwise. What Waltz does in the opening interrogation scene to get to the point he needs to with this character and jump start the story has to be seen (and heard) to be believed. Had he only appeared in those first ten minutes and nothing else he'd still have the Supporting Actor Oscar in the bag.

All the praise and awards attention for Waltz is justified but on equal ground, if not higher, is the work of newcomer Melanie Laurent as Shosanna. Part of why I'm so partial to it is that there are just so few strong starring roles available for women and it's something Tarantino has always excelled at writing, but takes to a new level here. Laurent doesn't have a lot of lines. Most of them are in foreign tongue. Yet she expresses all she needs to without words and just her eyes. A scene where Shosanna sits and eats with Landa, the man who murdered her family. As he questions her about the movie premiere the tension and suspense becomes unbearable. Just watch Laurent's face the entire time and when the scene ends witness her let it all out. She also expertly sells the most difficult part of the story--Shosanna's complicated, seemingly one-sided relationship with war hero Zoller, which we're not quite sure what to make of even right up until its tragic end.

At risk of overstating the case, Laurent gives the kind of iconic performance you can see being looked back on years from now as a landmark. The final image we get of her is so memorable it could very well be burned (literally) into our psyches. Considering this is an ensemble film I'm not sure which Oscar acting category she'd fit into but here's hoping they figure it out soon. And that's no knock on Diane Kruger as a separate review could be written exploring how Tarantino somehow managed to get such a thrilling performance out of an unproven actress barely memorable in the National Treasure movies. She's a surprise but Laurent's the heart and soul, so much so that movie actually suffers a little when she or Waltz aren't onscreen.

The Basterds are entertaining as hell, which is all they need to be and Brad Pitt (in a less pivotal role than you might expect) delivers a turn as broadly comic as his work in Burn After Reading. Of course, the most controversial casting decision is non-actor Eli Roth in the role of Staff Sergeant Donnie Donowitz (aka "The Bear Jew"), who takes a baseball bat to Nazis' heads. Roth really isn't asked to do a whole lot and this isn't a challenging part but he's adequate enough in it. The irony isn't lost that the "torture porn" director of Hostel brutally hands out the most controversial killing at the end of the film. There's a message in that somewhere. Make of it what you will.

The biggest accomplishment is that Tarantino takes the most sensitive, shameful subject imaginable and makes it fun. Barrels of fun. It's almost horrible to say, but true. And by having the Jews mimic the atrocities that were done to them by the Nazis and reversing the balance, he also forces to look at history in a way that goes beyond the normal black and white textbook depiction found in so many dry war epics, as uncomfortable as that may make us feel. It's a fascinating experiment because they become real people rather than labels or footnotes in history. As a result, this movie feels alive with an energy and importance. It's really a complete subversion of all genres and though its title may be inspired from Enzo Castellari's little seen 1978 war film The Inglorious Bastards, there's no mistaking this as a wholly original work. It's all Tarantino, who's back with a vengeance, and now has us wondering again if all the massive hype surrounding him was true.