Baby Driver: What a ride!

Baby Driver (2017) • View trailer 
4.5 stars. Rated R, for violence and profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.30.17

Goodness.

Blend the hyper-driving acceleration of Gone in 60 Seconds with Quentin Tarantino’s bad-ass dark humor, add a touch of the most superbly choreographed music-and-motion sequences ever concocted for classic Hollywood musicals, and you’re getting close to this audacious cinematic experience.

Baby (Ansel Elgort, left) has spent years working off his unusual debt to Doc (Kevin
Spacey), motivated — in part — by the hope that, eventually, this servitude will end.
But will this urbane crime lord really be willing to part with such a valuable asset?

Because the result still must be filtered through the impertinent sensibilities of British writer/director Edgar Wright, he of the manic blend of thrills and whacked-out comedy found in his cult-classic “Three Flavours Cornetto Trilogy” (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz and The World’s End).

Baby Driver is no mere film; it’s a bold, edge-of-the-seat vision from an auteur who deftly, irreverently exploits the medium’s every aspect to the max. From the attention-grabbing prolog to the suspensefully exhilarating climax — not to mention one of the best aw-shucks Hollywood endings ever added as an epilog — Wright holds our attention to a degree most filmmakers can only dream about.

You dare not even breathe, at risk of missing something way-cool.

Not that you should worry about it, because everything about this flick is way-cool. Not to mention quite impressive, considering the way Wright slides from accelerated, throat-clutching intensity to larkish meet-cute romance — and back again — in the blink of an eye.

To cases:

Music means everything to Baby (Ansel Elgort), who developed a horrific case of tinnitus during a childhood accident, and drowns out the incessant whine by orchestrating every waking moment to paralyzingly loud music pumped into his brain, via the ubiquitous ear buds connected to one of a dozen iPods he carries at all times. Nor is he content to rely on the Top 40 power anthems of today and yesterday; he also mixes his own mash-ups of samples, beats and even offhand chatter captured via pocket digital recorders.

Aside from serving as the perpetual home-grown symphony to which he dances and sashays through even the most mundane activities — such as making lunch — this constant aural companion also propels Baby’s occasional occupation.

Some people drive. Baby drives.

Elvis & Nixon: Double Trouble

Elvis & Nixon (2016) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated R, for occasional profanity
By Derrick Bang

Kevin Spacey’s marvelous impersonation of Richard Nixon, by itself, is worth the price of admission.

That said, everything about director Liza Johnson’s cheeky little comedy is thoroughly delightful.

To their mutual surprise, Elvis Presley (Michael Shannon, left) and President Richard M.
Nixon (Kevin Spacey) discover that they have a lot in common ... including a fondness for
Dr. Pepper.

It’s also based on an actual incident that deserves prominent placement in the Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction file: an event that scripters Joel Sagal, Hanala Sagal and Cary Elwes have built into a droll ensemble piece that also would work as an amusing stage play, particularly if staffed as well as Johnson and casting directors Kerry Barden and Paul Schnee have done here.

Johnson’s film expands upon the unlikely White House encounter between Elvis Presley and President Nixon, which took place shortly after noon on Dec. 21, 1970. Presley orchestrated the meeting, mostly because he wanted to augment his collection of official police badges with one from the Federal Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs.

Nixon, in turn, was encouraged to approve this unexpected guest as a means of enhancing his “one of the people” cred, and for the killer photo op. The latter scheme backfired somewhat, when Presley requested that the meeting be kept secret ... which it was, but only for about a year, at which point columnist Jack Anderson published what he had learned.

Which, as it happens, wasn’t as much as one might think. Elvis’ visit took place before Nixon had the Oval Office wired for continuous taping, and our only record of their actual conversation is based on notes taken by Nixon aide Egil “Bud” Krogh.

Which conveniently gives this film’s scripters plenty of room for, ah, embellishment. And they’ve done this with deliciously understated subtlety, matched by Johnson’s equally delicate touch with her cast.

The story begins a few days earlier, as a bored Presley (Michael Shannon), dismayed by the images of civil unrest emanating from the multiple TV sets in his Graceland lounge, impulsively decides that he can do something about this. He flies to Los Angeles to collect longtime friend and handler Jerry Schilling (Alex Pettyfer), who has left Presley’s employ in an effort to carve out his own career.

This is the first of the film’s strong character dynamics. Presley clearly misses Schilling, in great part because Jerry is one of the few people who likes Elvis for what he is, rather than the superficial wealth and celebrity. Despite that, Presley clumsily tries to “buy” Schilling’s return with offers of expensive gifts: a wistfully ironic touch that Shannon delivers with an endearing, gruff awkwardness.

Horrible Bosses 2: Fire 'em all!

Horrible Bosses 2 (2014) • View trailer 
2.5 stars. Rated R, for relentless profanity and crude sexual content
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 11.28.14

Director Sean Anders apparently was content to let this film’s three stars — Jason Bateman, Jason Sudeikis and Charlie Day — babble through much of their obviously improvised, rapid-fire dialogue.

Oddly enough, Rex (Chris Pine, right) doesn't seem all that bothered after learning that our
inept heroes — from left, Dale (Charlie Day), Nick (Jason Bateman) and Kurt (Jason
Sudeikis) — planned to kidnap him. Seems that Rex has his own issues with his wealthy,
overbearing father...

Sometimes the results are amusing.

Usually ... not.

Dumb-bunny comedies often aren’t nearly as funny as those involved seem to think, and that’s definitely the case here. Nor are the “even funnier” out-takes, which unspool over the closing credits, as uproarious as Bateman, Sudeikis, Day and their co-stars want us to believe.

This film’s 2011 predecessor was pretty thin gruel to begin with: a potty-mouthed waste of time and talent that was little more than a race to the tasteless bottom by all involved. The notion that it did enough business to warrant a sequel is astonishing, but Hollywood — as always — lives by the quote often attributed to H.L. Mencken: “Nobody ever went broke underestimating the taste of the American public.”

And so here we are, with a second dose of Nick (Bateman), Kurt (Sudeikis) and Dale (Day).

This new entry is slightly better, thanks to the presence of co-star Chris Pine. He thoroughly embraces his gleefully condescending, spoiled rich guy role with a breezy élan that adds momentum to this fitful comedy every time he pops into a scene. He’s genuinely funny, and manages to be such without relying on the vulgarity that’s pretty much everybody else’s sole defining character trait.

The plot, then:

Having decided that working for “horrible bosses” undervalues their true potential, Nick, Kurt and Dale have become entrepreneurs with their own home care product: the so-called “Shower Buddy,” just the sort of gadget that pops up on late-night TV commercials for $19.95. Their effort to promote this item on a local morning chat show doesn’t quite work as expected, but the exposure does bring them to the attention of father-and-son investors Bert and Rex Hanson (Christoph Waltz and Pine).

Overjoyed by an initial order of 100,000 units, our three stooges overlook the cautionary step of obtaining a down payment in order to fund this massive production run. Bert subsequently cancels the order — which he intended to do all along — knowing full well that Nick, Kurt and Dale will be forced to foreclose. At that point, the Hansons will scoop up the entire company and all those Shower Buddies at fire-sale prices.

It’s merely standard-issue corporate raider behavior, which Bert cheerfully acknowledges, knowing full well that our hapless idiots can’t do anything about it.

Margin Call: Grim tidings

Margin Call (2011) • View trailer for Margin Call
Four stars. Rating: R, for profanity
By Derrick Bang

Moving into the third act of writer/director J.C. Chandor’s Margin Call, I was reminded of the war room discussions in Stanley Kubrick’s 1964 adaptation of Dr. Strangelove, particularly when Peter Sellers’ U.S. President Merkin Muffley and George C. Scott’s Gen. Buck Turgidson argue over “collateral damage.”

Having survived a devastating company layoff, Peter Sullivan (Zachary Quinto)
attempts to settle down for a "normal" day's work. But a financial time bomb is
ticking away in his pocket: the parting gift from a veteran risk analyst who was
escorted out of the building that same morning. Eventually, as day turns to night,
Peter will examine the files on that flash drive ... and then nothing will be the same.

“Mr. President,” Turgidson finally insists, “I’m not saying we wouldn’t get our hair mussed. But I do say no more than 10 to 20 million killed, tops. Uh, depending on the breaks.”

The point, of course — delivered with every possible ounce of chilling satire — is that nobody in this room, filled as it is with people responsible for the safety of the entire United States, has the faintest idea what would happen during an all-out nuclear war. And yet they still argue over “acceptable losses.”

Just as everybody in the board room of the fictitious investment firm in Margin Call debates the acceptable losses certain to arise in the wake of a proposed we’re-first-into-the-lifeboat desperation ploy.

Hell, it’s worse than that. They’re not simply commandeering the first lifeboat; they’re scuttling all the others.

I’m not sure the public is ready for this suggestion of how the 2008 financial crisis kicked off; my own interest was guarded, upon entering the theater. It’s simply too soon: The real-world wound remains too fresh, the resulting carnage still plain in every drawn and desperate face, every freshly foreclosed and empty home that once contained a family that still believed in the American dream.

I worried that Chandor would trivialize actual history, or — worse yet — attempt to build sympathy for the greedy, soulless bastards who fiddled while Wall Street burned.

But, as it turns out, Chandor is much smarter and shrewder than that. He’s also a sharp scripter and a damn fine director, and Margin Call is an extremely impressive feature debut for a fellow whose sole previous credit was a short back in 2004.

Granted, Chandor also had the good sense to assemble an impressive cast ... but a director still needs to know how to encourage excellent work. And he draws fine performances from all concerned.

Chandor’s most brilliant stroke, however, was to resist the temptation to imagine what truly occurred in the late summer of 2008. We can assume that his script evokes Lehman Brothers, and that the two days depicted here offer a guess as to what may have gone down behind closed doors, before that august firm filed for bankruptcy on Sept. 15, 2008.

But it doesn’t really matter. Chandor’s build-up is absorbing, and the subsequent character interactions generate the intensity of a solid, well-acted stage play. We eventually share the horror of those who recognize a catastrophe only after it’s too late to attempt a recovery.

Horrible Bosses: Rather horrible, all right

Horrible Bosses (2011) • View trailer for Horrible Bosses
Two stars. Rating: R, for pervasive profanity, crude and sexual content, and drug use
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.8.11


Imitation isn’t merely the sincerest form of flattery; in Hollywood, it’s a way of life.

After deciding to do away with their mean, conniving bosses, our three put-upon
heroes — from left, Nick (Jason Bateman), Kurt (Jason Sudeikis) and Dale
(Charlie Day) — seek advice from Dean "MF" Jones (Jamie Foxx), the baddest
cat in the city's worst neighborhood.

When some bottom-feeder unexpectedly made a fortune with Saw, within 12 months we were wallowing in the sewage of numerous quickie torture-porn imitations. A few years before that, American remakes of Japanese horror flicks were the rage. Want superheroes? These days, you can’t check out newspaper or online movie listings without encountering half a dozen Spandex-clad champions of justice.

Which brings us to vulgar moron comedies.

Judd Apatow and the Farrelly brothers have strip-mined this genre for several years, with results that have been uneven at best; every successful 40-Year-Old Virgin has been accompanied by lesser cousins such as Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story, Step Brothers and the ill-advised remake of The Heartbreak Kid. Superduds, all.

But the surprise success of 2009’s The Hangover really put Hollywood on notice, and now — two years later, which is about as quickly as perceived trends can be acted upon — we’re paying the price. This year already has brought us swill such as The Dilemma, Hall Pass and the pallid sequel to The Hangover; fairness dictates that I acknowledge enjoying the pleasant surprise of Bridesmaids, which boasts the same pedigree.

Still to come, in the next few months: The Change-Up and Our Idiot Brother.

And the topic of today’s conversation: Horrible Bosses.

More than anything else, this weak excuse for a comedy hints at an insubstantial, one-sentence concept pitch by no-talent hacks attempting to get the attention of a gullible (desperate?) studio exec: “I know, I know; let’s do a potty-mouthed comedy retread of Strangers on a Train ... you know, the one where they swap murders!”

And thus a movie is born. Oh, joy.

I’ll give director Seth Gordon credit for attracting A-list talent; quite a few high-caliber actors wander through this limp noodle. Trouble is, they’ve little to do; as is typical of a clumsy script, individual scenes seem stitched together more of necessity than logical narrative progression.

Writers Michael Markowitz, John Francis Daley and Jonathan Goldstein haven’t even tried, and the proof is most visible in the blank character slates with which our three protagonists must struggle. Watch this flick — if you must — and then ask this key question: Do we know anything about Nick (Jason Bateman), Dale (Charlie Day) and Kurt (Jason Sudeikis), aside from the fact that each has a horrible boss? Anything about their private lives? Hobbies? Dietary preferences? Whether they’re kind to animals?

The Men Who Stare at Goats: Chewed cud

The Men Who Stare at Goats (2009) • View trailer for The Men Who Stare at Goats
1.5 stars (out of five). Rating:R, for profanity, drug use and fleeting nudity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 11.12.09
Buy DVD: The Men Who Stare at Goats• Buy Blu-Ray: The Men Who Stare At Goats [Blu-ray]


This film desperately wants to be as hip, snarky and relevant as Catch-22.

Mostly, it's just desperate.

The Men Who Stare at Goats is one of those bewildering projects that makes one question the sanity of all involved. At no time could Peter Straughan's script — "inspired" by Jon Ronson's book (always a bad sign, that word "inspired") — have been considered worthwhile: not as originally written; not as tweaked during the filming process; and certainly not in post-production, when I'd like to believe director Grant Heslov realized he had unleashed a turkey truly worthy of the Thanksgiving season.

Lyn Cassady (George Clooney, second from right in front), a willing recruit
in the U.S. military's hippy-trippy New Earth Army, soon finds his unusual
mental skills challenged by renegade psychic Larry Hooper (Kevin Spacey,
far left).

I can't imagine why this misbegotten flick ever even got off the ground, except for the possibility that Heslov and George Clooney wanted to work together again, having done so well with Good Night, and Good Luck.

Well, they shoulda held out for something better. All the luck in the world won't turn this 'Goat' into anything but ... well, a goat.

The absurdity of war has captivated writers and filmmakers for a long, long time, but battlefield satire is a ferociously difficult balancing act; few can achieve the glory of Dr. Strangelove or M.A.S.H.

Even the 1970 adaptation of Catch-22 failed to capture the manic spirit of Joseph Heller's must-read novel, and those folks started with excellent source material.

Straughan and Heslov, in great contrast, begin only with a one-note premise and no concept of where to take it. What eventually emerges, after a mercifully brief 93 minutes, is a clumsy, poorly plotted attempt to make fun of the U.S. military: something of a spectator sport, in certain circles.

But the effort is so insipid, that we can't help being irritated — on the U.S. military's behalf — by all involved with this dull, lifeless and laughless so-called "comedy."

Reporter Bob Wilton (Ewan McGregor), having just been dumped by his philandering wife, decides to drown his sorrows by seeking A Really Big News Story in Iraq. It should be noted that Bob's wife has cheated on him with a one-armed man, who at one point wrestles our hero to the ground with his prosthetic limb. No reason for this, really, except to foreshadow the general weirdness to follow.

Once overseas, Bob encounters Lyn Cassady (Clooney), a twitchy, oddly intense individual posing as a corporate salesman. At the drop of a hat, though, Cassady explains that he's actually a special-ops agent under deep cover, working for an experimental U.S. military unit that has, for years, been tasked with changing the way wars are fought.

The self-described New Earth Army's goal: to train soldiers to wreak havoc with their minds.

Or, to put it another way, to develop the skill to stare fixedly at goats — or enemy soldiers -— and stop their hearts via nothing but intense concentration.

Moon: Thoughtful sci-fi

Moon (2009) • View trailer for Moon
Four stars (out of five). Rating: R, for profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.9.09
Buy DVD: Moon • Buy Blu-Ray: Moon [Blu-ray]

"The Cold Equations," a classic science-fiction short story written by Tom Godwin in 1954, concerns a space pilot in a one-man ship that has been sent on an emergency mission, to bring desperately needed medical supplies to the settlers on an outlying planet.

While en route, the pilot, Barton, discovers a stowaway: a feisty teenager hoping to visit her brother on the distant world ... a plucky, personable young woman everybody would love to have as a younger (or older) sister.

The monitor readouts rarely change, and this seems just like any other day
inside the lonely mining base dumped on the far side of Earth's moon ... but as
Sam (Sam Rockwell) is about to find out, this particular day will become
anything but ordinary.

Trouble is, the ship's fuel consumption has been calibrated precisely to the weight of the pilot and cargo: anything more — particularly something as heavy as a second person — and the ship won't reach its destination. The medicine won't arrive; countless colonists will die.

We readers, fully aware of what must be done, turn each page with mounting dread, hoping that Barton will figure out an alternate solution.

But no: The laws of physics and mathematics cannot be bartered with. Eventually, helplessly, Barton must cycle her out of the airlock.

The story's final two pages are chilling and instantly, permanently memorable.

So-called "hard" science-fiction rarely involves aliens, space battles or improbable time travel paradoxes. The futuristic setting is, instead, a reasonable extrapolation of modern society; such stories are driven by the same human conflict that would fuel a straight contemporary drama.

Sometimes the stories are parables: intentionally disturbing scenarios of what might result, if society continues to behave in a particularly short-sighted manner.

Movies made from such stories aren't vicarious thrill-rides such as I, Robot and the countless Star Trek and Star Wars installments.

Translation: They're rarely popular in the box-office sense that big studios demand, particularly in this 21st century. Which is ironic, considering how such films often have a far-reaching impact that exceeds their flashier, cotton candy-headed cousins.

I must confess surprise, however, that a film as cleverly scripted and persuasively realized as Duncan Jones' Moon has been marketed as an alternative "arthouse flick."

Are we to believe that arthouse/indie theaters are becoming the last refuge of thought-provoking drama, even when the trappings are science-fiction? What have those corporate Hollywood behemoths wrought?

21: Flawed count

21 (2008) • View trailer for 21
3.5 stars (out of five). Rating: PG-13, for violence, profanity and brief sensuality
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.27.08
Buy DVD: 21 • Buy Blu-Ray: 21 (+ BD Live) [Blu-ray]

This film is as slick, dazzling and superficial as its Las Vegas setting.

Although ostensibly based on the events reported in Ben Mezrich's fascinating book, Bringing Down the House, credulous viewers should be advised that the film's press notes more accurately acknowledge that 21 is inspired by a true story.

When Ben (Jim Sturgess, far left) accepts an invitation for some extracurricular
activities organized by math professor Micky Rosa (Kevin Spacey, far right),
he's astonished to find a blackjack training session already occupied by Vegas
veterans: from left, Fisher (Jacob Pitts), Kianna (Liza Lapira) and Jill (Kate
Bosworth). The goal? Take the casinos for a bundle, thanks to a clever
card-counting scheme.

Which would explain why Peter Steinfeld and Allan Loeb's script eventually devolves into a Hollywood fairy tale, complete with a ludicrous tag scene that certainly gets the intended laugh, even if it couldn't possibly exist in the real world.

(I suspect Steinfeld and Loeb greatly admire 1983's Risky Business, since I detect an echo of Tom Cruise's concluding speech in their protagonist's final words.)

All of which is a shame, because the first act of director Robert Luketic's captivating little drama feels very real-world. Star Jim Sturgess is spot-on as Ben Campbell, a shy, geeky and quite brilliant MIT student whose acceptance to Harvard Medical School — absolutely his, on the basis of academic merit — is in danger of being derailed because he lacks the money to attend. Sturgess is completely persuasive as an honorable individual with his eye on the prize, who simply cannot understand why years of hard work haven't been enough.

Scenes with his mother (Helen Carey) are heartfelt and sweet; companionable exchanges with his two similarly nerdy best friends (Josh Gad and Sam Golzari) are appropriately outcast-ish. The three bookworms — they've been designing a robotic vehicle for the past year, in anticipation of an annual contest — look yearningly at the cooler guys and hot chicks when enjoying a beer or two at the local watering hole, which is as close to being part of the "in crowd" as they're likely to get.

Then Ben catches the attention of charismatic math professor Micky Rosa (Kevin Spacey), who recruits the young man to join his rather unorthodox team of similarly gifted numbers crunchers. Micky and his crew have been taking trips to Vegas for an unspecified amount of time — vague and sloppy details often plague this script — and winning big bucks while playing blackjack with a card-counting scheme.

They're currently short one member, and Micky offers the empty slot to Ben.