Greedy People: Crime really doesn't pay!

Greedy People (2024) • View trailer

Three stars (out of five). Rated R, for violence, sexual content and relentless profanity

Available via: Movie theaters and video-on-demand

By Derrick Bang

They don’t come much darker than this one.

 

At first blush, this modern crime noir from director Potsy Ponciroli and writer Mike Vukadinovich looks like it’ll occupy the darkly humorous neighborhood populated by sardonic classics such as Fargo and In Bruges. The occasional dollops of humor are twisted: driven both by a bevy of burlesque characters and a plot that is far more comically convoluted than it initially appears.

 

The story cooked up by Will (Hamish Patel, left) and Terry (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), in an
effort to explain a woman's grisly death, doesn't withstand the smell test ... but they
nonetheless stick to it.

Midway through the second act, though, Vukadinovich delivers an unexpected wallop that destroys what’s left of a humorous tone.

People who make films of this nature understand that some boundaries shouldn’t be crossed; call them Thou Shalt Nots. Savvy writers and directors recognize that, no matter how twisted or deplorably their characters behave, it’s wise to avoid Thou Shalt Nots, lest viewers be outraged and alienated past the point of forgiveness.

 

Occasionally, though, really savvy directors and/or writers sometimes take that risk, assuming that their filmmaking chops are solid enough to hold the audience. John Carpenter (in)famously violated a Thou Shalt Not at the beginning of 1976’s Assault on Precinct 13, gambling that he’d maintain a level of suspense that would make the move worthwhile. He won that gamble.

 

And goodness; the entire John Wick film series owes its longevity to a Thou Shalt Not broken in the initial 2014 entry.

 

I’m less persuaded that Ponciroli and Vukadinovich are similarly successful here, although the aforementioned wallop definitely plunges their film into much deeper waters.

 

The time is the present, in the sleepy Northeastern coastal island community of Providence (not to be confused with Rhode Island’s capital city). Rookie policeman Will (Himesh Patel) and his very pregnant wife Paige (Lily James) moved into town just three days earlier; they’re still waist-high in unpacked boxes.

 

Will dutifully reports for work on this, his first day; he’s given a brief rundown by Captain Murphy (Uzo Aduba). We’ve already seen her earlier this same morning, at home, still mourning the loss of a young child. Murphy assigns Will to a week of training with veteran cop Terry (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), after which the newcomer will get his own vehicle and beat.

 

Will is an inherently honest family guy who believes in the social stabilization of moral law enforcement. Terry is an opportunistic, foul-mouthed horse’s ass who views police work as an easy path to free coffee and donuts, while rousting and threatening folks for the sheer joy of it. They have nothing in common.

 

Terry acts according to three personal rules, the first of which is, Try Not To Kill Anybody. “It gets messy,” he tells a bewildered Will. 

 

Because, really, who would need killing in a place like Providence?

Beverly Hills Cop 4: Axel F — Everything old is (not quite) new again

Beverly Hills Cop 4: Axel F (2024) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated R, for violence, drug use and relentless profanity

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.14.24

The cinema summer of 2024 should be dubbed Return of the Ancient Franchise.

 

Six weeks ago, Garfield the cat returned to the big screen, not quite two decades after his previous appearance. One week later, Will Smith and Martin Lawrence reunited (yet again!) for Bad Boys: Ride or Die. In two weeks, we’re getting Twisters, a sorta-kinda retread of 1996’s Twister. The winner’s trophy, however, goes to Michael Keaton’s return in Beetlejuice Beetlejuice on Sept. 6 ... not quite four decades after he last donned that pasty make-up.

 

Having become reluctant allies, Jane (Taylour Paige) and Bobby (Joseph Gordon-Levitt)
listen attentively as Axel (Eddie Murphy) outlines a plan to gain access to a top floor
private gathering.

Meanwhile, Netflix has given us Beverly Hills Cop: Axel F, 30 years after Eddie Murphy last played the title character.

The good news is that director Mark Molloy and his scripters — Will Beall, Tom Gormican and Kevin Ketten — respect this franchise’s fan base. They’ve delivered a well-assembled product that ticks all the necessary boxes, and — in more ways than one — can be considered a cast reunion and nostalgic throwback to the 1984 original.

 

The soundtrack certainly hasn’t changed; the film opens with the pulsating sax grooves from Glenn Frey’s “The Heat Is On,” and it doesn’t take long for The Pointer Sisters’ “Neutron Dance” and Harold Faltermeyer’s instrumental “Axel F” to arrive. Indeed, the latter pops up, in various arrangements, throughout the entire film (perhaps a bit too frequently).

 

And — of course — Murphy takes every opportunity to deliver Axel’s signature foul-mouthed and smart-assed schtick, often while pretending to be somebody else. It’s part of the character’s charm, and no; it hasn’t worn thin.

 

The bad news is that producer Jerry Bruckheimer’s reputation precedes him, with respect to the ludicrously overblown amount of real estate, vehicles and personal property that gets destroyed during the course of this saga. Bruckheimer remains the poster boy for wretched excess, and Molloy and stunt supervisor Mike Gunther cheerfully oblige.

 

(That said, it’s nice that the original Bruckheimer/Don Simpson logo heralds this new film, by way of acknowledging his late partner’s involvement with the first one.)

 

The action kicks off one evening in Detroit, as Axel interrupts the theft of sports memorabilia from the players’ locker room during an ice hockey game. The subsequent vehicular chase finds Axel in a garbage truck-sized city snowplow, in pursuit of four baddies on peppy quad-cycles: a smash ’n’ crash sequence that destroys a good-sized chunk of the city. 

 

After which, Axel’s only “punishment” is standing back as beloved boss Deputy Chief Friedman (Paul Reiser) falls on his sword and retires, in order to keep his “favorite cop” out of trouble with the Police Commissioner.

 

(As if. One would hope that Beall and the other writers would try a little harder, but this sort of nonsense has long been a franchise hallmark.)

Flora and Son: Makes beautiful music

Flora and Son (2023) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated R, for sexual candor, brief drug use and relentless profanity

Available via: Apple TV+

By Derrick Bang

Like writer/director/musician John Carney, I firmly believe that everybody possesses an artistic bliss which, if discovered and properly nurtured, could dramatically improve one’s life.

 

To her surprise, Flora (Eve Hewson) soon anticipates her online guitar lessons with
genuine pleasure, because of the bond she establishes with her tutor.

Carney clearly values the transformative power of music, which became abundantly clear with 2007’s Once, the captivating breakout hit that made his rep and gave us an Academy Award-winning song: “Falling Slowly.” He followed that with the equally beguiling Begin Again (2013) and Sing Street (2016), both of which enhanced their character-driven pleasures with charming song scores.

Carney’s newest, however, is apt to be a tougher sell: in part because its roster of original tunes lacks a memorable ear-worm, but mostly because — as introduced — this story’s protagonist is thoroughly unlikable (unless one admires relentless, profanity-laced tirades that would make a dock worker blush).

 

That said, one can’t help admiring the unapologetic ferocity with which Eve Hewson plays 31-year-old Flora, a Dublin-based single mother still selfishly trying to make up for the long-ago lost adolescence resulting from the arrival of her now-14-year-old son, Max (Orén Kinlan).

 

Flora is selfish, spiteful, impatient and intolerant, with a an entitlement chip the size of Inishmore on her shoulder. She “works” rather disinterestedly as a daycare nanny, then devotes her evenings to bars, discos and getting laid. As a result, Max has become a surly, rebellious, free-range teenager — who could blame him? — and petty thief who is up to his last chance with the local Gardai (policeman).

 

Flora can’t even be bothered to remember or acknowledge Max’s birthday. When the realization dawns, she fishes a broken guitar from a refuse bin, pays to have it quickly refurbished, and presents it to Max. But it’s a day-late-dollar-short gesture that the boy understandably dismisses with a sniff.

 

At this point, the subtlety of Hewson’s performance begins to shine. (About time, we think gratefully.) When Max is out of range, Flora displays genuine shame and regret; we realize that part of her anger is directed inward, over her inability to be a better mother. She’s dismayed because she never had the chance to learn how.

 

Against all odds, she becomes sympathetic. She also takes a metaphorical breath and slows down.

Pinocchio: Could use a few more strings

Pinocchio (2022) • View trailer

Three stars (out of five). Rated PG, for dramatic intensity and mild rude humor

Available via: Disney+

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 9.9.22

Filmmakers are reading each other’s mail again.

 

The memory of Italian director Matteo Garrone’s live-action 2019 version of Pinocchio remains fresh — in part because it didn’t reach our shores until spring 2021 — and now we have Disney’s sorta-kinda live-action reboot of its 1940 animated classic.

 

Geppetto (Tom Hanks) has no idea that the wooden puppet, which he so lovingly
crafted, is about to be brought to life by a magical blue fairy.

And, come December 9, it’ll be joined by director Guillermo del Toro’s handling of the same story, which is guaranteed to be much darker and scarier (and, therefore, much closer to the spirit of Carlo Collodi’s 1883 novel).

But back to the present…

 

Of late, the current Disney regime has been hell-bent on putting a live-action spin on all of Uncle Walt’s animated classics, along with many of the studio’s more recent hits. The results have been mixed, to say the least; for every successful Alice in Wonderland (2010) and Jungle Book (2016), we’ve suffered through misfires such as the bloated Beauty and the Beast (2017), the excessively distressing Dumbo (2019) and the blink-and-you-missed it — trust me, not a bad thing — Lady and the Tramp, a streaming debut that same year.

 

The obvious question arises: Why bother?

 

Inclusion and political correctness can be a factor, and — in theory — there’s nothing wrong with reviving a beloved chestnut. After all, how many local theater productions of (as just a couple of examples) The Music Man and My Fair Lady get mounted every year, to the delight of packed audiences?

 

Uncle Walt’s Pinocchio is eight decades old, which certainly seems far enough back to justify a fresh take. And, in fairness, director Robert Zemeckis’ new film has much to offer: Doug Chiang and Stefan Dechant’s sumptuously colorful production design is amazing — gotta love all the cuckoo clocks in Geppetto’s workshop — and Don Burgess’ equally lush cinematography gives the saga a lovely fairy tale glow.

 

But the film fails on the most crucial level. Despite the CGI trickery with which this version’s title character is brought to life, and even despite young Benjamin Evan Ainsworth’s earnest voice performance, this Pinocchio doesn’t have anywhere near the warmth, vulnerability, poignant curiosity, chastened regret or beingness of his hand-drawn predecessor.

 

In short, 1940’s Pinocchio felt like a real boy, even while still a marionette. This CGI Pinocchio is a cartoon character.

 

And everything crumbles from that misstep.

 

Tom Hanks’ Geppetto is an exercise in mumbled absent-mindedness, as if he’s constantly on the verge of forgetting his lines, or where to stand. He’s also much too calm when initially confronted with the miracle of his wooden puppet come to life, as if this is somehow a routine occurrence. 

 

Indeed, Pinocchio’s very existence similarly is taken for granted by all the villagers and schoolchildren; the schoolmaster banishes Pinocchio from the classroom because he’s “just a puppet,” but seems unfazed by the fact that he is a puppet brought to life.

The Trial of the Chicago Seven: Unbelievable, but true

The Trial of the Chicago Seven (2020) • View trailer

Four stars. Rated R, for profanity, violence and drug use

By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 10.23.20 

Well, this one couldn’t be more timely.

 

Defense attorney William Kuntsler (Mark Rylance, center) and co-counsel Leonard
Weinglass (center left) do their best to protect the defendants — from left, Bobby Seale
(Yahya Abdul-Mateen II), Tom Hayden (Eddie Redmayne) and Rennie Davis
(Alex Sharp) — from the blatantly biased behavior of their courtroom judge.

Writer/director Aaron Sorkin’s Netflix original, a depiction of events during the notorious “Chicago Seven” trial — which lasted five months after beginning Sept. 24, 1969, following the August 1968 riots outside Chicago’s Democratic National Convention — is by turns mesmerizing, astonishing, scandalous and horrifying.

 

While Sorkin makes no claim to rigid, documentary-style authenticity, it’s important to understand that pretty much everything depicted here — even the most outrageous behavior — did indeed take place. The timeline has been manipulated a bit, and Sorkin clearly punches up some of the behind-the-scenes dialogue for dramatic impact.

 

But be advised: Every time you’re inclined to think, Oh, that couldn’t possibly have happened … you’ll be wrong.

 

The often crackling verbal exchanges are volleyed by a powerhouse ensemble cast dominated by four actors: Eddie Redmayne, as Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) member Tom Hayden; Sacha Baron Cohen, as Youth International Party (Yippie) co-founder Abbie Hoffman; Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, as Black Panther Party co-founder Bobby Seale; and Mark Rylance, as defense attorney and civil rights activist William Kunstler.

 

The latter represented the Seven during their kangaroo-court trial before the incompetent, blatantly racist and deplorably biased Judge Julius Hoffman (a chilling Frank Langella).

 

Joseph Gordon-Levitt is just as compelling — albeit in a more calmly determined manner — as lead prosecutor Richard Schultz, hand-picked for this assignment by newly elected President Richard Nixon’s attorney general, John Mitchell (John Doman, smugly condescending).

 

Jeremy Strong supplies mild comic relief as Yippie co-founder Jerry Rubin, who seems stoned during the lengthy proceeding. The remaining Seven are SDS member Rennie Davis (Alex Sharp); and National Mobilization Committee to End the War in Vietnam (The MOBE) members David Dellinger (John Carroll Lynch), John Froines (Danny Flaherty) and Lee Weiner (Noah Robbins).

 

7500: A pilot's worst nightmare

7500 (2019) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated R, for violence, profanity and dramatic intensity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.19.20

This is a nifty little thriller: great premise, taut execution and excellent use of its claustrophobic setting.

Wounded and trapped in the cockpit with an unconscious attacker, Tobias (Joseph
Gordon-Levitt) nervously watches the cabin security monitor, waiting to see what the
other two terrorists will do next.

It’s also a real-time nail-biter, and those aren’t easy to handle; tension must be sustained credibly. Director Patrick Vollrath pulls it off in his solid feature debut; he shares scripting duties with Senad Halilbasic.

A prolog montage, monitoring activity at an airport security checkpoint, telegraphs what is to come: An overhead surveillance camera lingers briefly on several dodgy men, and we know we’re in for a hijacking.

In the cockpit of a passenger aircraft, pilot Michael (Carlo Kitzlinger) and co-pilot Tobias (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) run through the pre-flight checklist for their short hop from Berlin to Paris. Friendly chatter is exchanged with Gökce (Aylin Tezel), Tobias’ flight attendant girlfriend; everything is routine.

But not for long.

Minutes after take-off, Gökce brings Michael and Tobias some snacks; she knocks and stands outside the locked security door, waiting to be noticed via the monitor screen inside the cockpit. Michael flips the switch that unlocks the door … and that’s what three Muslim extremists have waited for. They rush forward, armed with knives improvised from broken glass; one yanks her aside, as the other two charge into the cockpit.

The resulting skirmish is furious but brief. The leader, Kenan (Murathan Muslu), mortally wounds Michael, but is overpowered and knocked unconscious; despite getting a nasty slash on his left arm, Tobias forces the younger Vedat (Omid Memar) back out of the cockpit, and re-locks the door.

Michael succumbs to his injury; the distraught Tobias, acting on panic and adrenaline, pushes the body to one side, and ties Kenan to the captain’s chair. He then immediately radios the situation to Berlin air-traffic control (“Code 7500: unlawful interference”) and arranges an emergency landing in Hanover.

Ah, but the terrorists haven’t given up. When it becomes clear that pounding on the security door is useless — the third man, Daniel (Paul Wollin), is absolutely terrifying on the black-and-white monitor screen, as he goes into a berserker rage — they grab a passenger and threaten to kill him, unless Tobias opens the door.

The situation … develops from there.

Snowden: A man adrift

Snowden (2016) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated R, for brief nudity and frequent profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 9.16.16

Oliver Stone’s films have polarized viewers for three decades — ever since 1986’s Platoon — and this one won’t be any different.

Indeed, it’s difficult to find a recent public figure who has divided opinion as much as Edward Snowden (although a current presidential candidate comes close).

Having assembled their information into a series of revelatory articles ready for publication,
the team of unlikely conspirators — from left, documentarian Laura Poitras (Melissa Leo),
Edward Snowden (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), and Guardian journalists Glenn Greenwald
(Zachary Quinto) and Ewan MacAskill (Tom Wilkinson) — discuss, via teleconference,
how best to release the stories.

Stone’s dip into these tempestuous waters — he also co-wrote the script, with Kieran Fitzgerald, based on material gathered from books by Luke Harding and Anatoly Kucherena — isn’t likely to change any minds. Neither will this film’s slant surprise anybody familiar with Stone’s über-liberal proclivities. No question: This is a sympathetic, strawberry-lensed portrait of  — depending on your point of view — one of our country’s most heinous traitors, or one of its most conscientious whistle-blowers.

The issue itself also frustrates fence-sitters. Civil liberties types, with a healthy respect for George Orwell, fear the totalitarian potential of an unchecked government Big Brother. Those favoring security — at any cost — argue that such a position is naïve, at a time when headlines are dominated by the grotesque behavior of terrorists who operate outside of national boundaries.

In fairness, Stone’s film carefully takes no position in that particular argument. The primary goal of any mainstream drama, even one drawn from actual events, is to give a (hopefully) talented cast the opportunity to inhabit engaging characters involved in a compelling storyline.

In this respect, Snowden succeeds, in great part because of Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s thoroughly convincing portrayal of the title character. Viewers exiting the theater may not agree with Snowden’s actions, but the emotional and philosophical journey that gets him there is presented thoughtfully and persuasively (assuming, of course, that we accept Harding and Kucherena’s vision of the man).

Thematically, this film echoes Stone’s depiction of Ron Kovic, in 1989’s Born on the Fourth of July. In both cases, we’re introduced to young, true-blue American patriots — believers in baseball, motherhood and apple pie — who shed their idealism slowly, reluctantly, but then completely ... and only after coming to the conclusion that People In Authority have lied to them, and to everybody, for too long.

Stone opens his film in a plush Hong Kong hotel in the spring of 2013, as Snowden takes his first meeting with documentary filmmaker Laura Poitras (Melissa Leo) and Guardian journalist Glenn Greenwald (Zachary Quinto); they’re soon joined by the Guardian’s defense and intelligence correspondent, Ewan MacAskill (Tom Wilkinson). They’ve assembled to help Snowden “finesse” the disclosure of his stolen classified documents, in a very public manner that will prevent the U.S. government from spinning the revelations into something insignificant.

And, not incidentally, to minimize the chances that Snowden might get kidnapped and/or killed.

(Poitras actually preceded this film by two years; her 2014 documentary on Snowden, Citizenfour, won an Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature, along with a slew of other national and international honors.)

The Walk: Nary a misstep

The Walk (2015) • View trailer 
4.5 stars. Rated PG, for minor profanity and chaste nudity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 10.2.15

And I worried that this film might be dull.

The saga of Philippe Petit’s high-wire walk between the World Trade Center’s Twin Towers, in the summer of 1974? OK, granted; it was an amazingly audacious stunt, and an impressive display of awesome dexterity and physical prowess. But how in the world could that sustain a two-hour film?

Once they've become an item, Philippe Petit (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) shares his impossible,
idealistic scheme with Annie (Charlotte Le Bon): to somehow run a cable between the two
closest corners of New York's fabled Twin Towers, and then to embark on the most
incredible — and dangerous — wire walk ever attempted.

Silly me.

Director Robert Zemeckis’ exhilarating depiction of Petit’s bold feat is almost as exciting as the historic walk itself. Cinematographer Dariusz Wolski’s breathtaking, crystal-clear camera angles blend seamlessly with Kevin Baillie’s visual effects, to put us “right there” at virtually impossible moments.

I haven’t been this dazzled by a film’s visuals since Claudio Miranda’s Academy Award-winning work in 2012’s Life of Pi.

Wolski and Baillie also make excellent use of their 3D effects, for which this film clearly was designed. The dimensionality is integrated smoothly, often to enhance the sense of vertigo — particularly during the third act — as we peer down from the top of one of the towers. 3D cinematography hasn’t been used this well since Martin Scorsese’s marvelous handling of the technology, in 2011’s Hugo.

Inevitably, whether at a circus or elsewhere, we always watch wire-walkers from below; it simply isn’t possible to do otherwise. But that’s precisely what Zemeckis and his team pull off: We often experience Petit’s work from above — disorienting enough — or even as if we’re standing alongside him.

Our rational minds insist that what we’re watching couldn’t possibly be real, just as our hearts suggest otherwise.

Which is a reaction that Petit, an impudent showman through and through, would both understand and encourage.

The riveting screenplay — by Zemeckis and co-scripter Christopher Browne, based on Petit’s memoir To Reach the Clouds — also contributes greatly to this film’s enthralling allure. Zemeckis and Browne don’t treat this as “mere” build-up to a fleeting display of athletic grace; it is, instead, one of cinema’s ultimate, clenched-knuckle heist flicks, told with the panache and verbal flamboyance of a circus barker.

Sin City: A Dame to Kill For — Not nearly sinful enough

Sin City: A Dame to Kill For (2014) • View trailer 
2.5 stars. Rated R, for nudity, sexual content, brief drug use and relentless strong violence
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 9.5.14

Nine years is a long time to wait for a sequel, particularly one with interlinked stories that weave in and around the first film’s similarly interconnected narrative.

Johnny (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) roars into Sin City, a man on a mission. He's determined to
out-play the local power-monger during a high-stakes poker game ... but, in fact, Johnny
also has a lot more on his mind. What else would drive such a flashy young man to such
suicidal behavior?

My memory isn’t up to that challenge. And I’d argue that a film’s potential success shouldn’t rest on a viewer’s willingness to embark on deep research, in order to have a better idea of what’s going on.

But that isn’t the only problem with Sin City: A Dame to Kill For, once again adapted by comic book impresario Frank Miller, from his macabre and über-cynical Sin City graphic novel series. The far bigger flaw is that Miller obviously cherry-picked his best stories for the first film, whereas this one is laden with leftovers and sloppy seconds.

The result is a common cinematic disease: all style and very little substance.

To be sure, Miller and gonzo co-director Robert Rodriguez once again deliver the material with the seamy, amped-up decadence and hard-bitten dialogue that will amuse fans of 1940s and ’50s film noir classics. The atmosphere oozes with scandal: the tough guys hard as granite (literally); the dames, floozies and femme fatales straight out of Hammett and Chandler ... assuming, of course, that their women would have pranced about in cleavage-enhancing goth/punk corsets and garters. Or nothing at all.

But do bear in mind — as with the first film — that only the actors are real here; the rest is CGI fabrication. That means all the buildings and streets in (Ba)sin City, not to mention all the action scenes, car chases and death-with-prejudice fist fights, maimings, decapitations and defenestrations, not to mention samurai-style limb slicing and arrows through eyeballs. No more “real” than the gladiator nonsense of 300 and its recent sequel.

As further befitting the material’s noir sensibilities, this is a primarily black-and-white universe, aside from occasional splashes of red (lipstick, blood) or full color, the latter generally employed — with heavy irony — to suggest a character’s innocence.

This is deliberate, of course; the goal is to bring Miller’s savage comic book artwork and sensibilities to the screen. Literally. He and Rodriguez once again succeed, catching the feverish artistic vitality that crackles like heat lightning on every one of Miller’s blasphemously violent pages.

But our potential engagement with the results — as always is the case with live-action movies, as well — depends upon engaging characters and compelling storylines.

And that’s where this sequel falls flat.

The Wind Rises: This film soars

The Wind Rises (2013) • View trailer 
4.5 stars. Rating: Rated PG-13, for dramatic content and disturbing images
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.14.14

Animation fans who think of Hayao Miyazaki’s films solely in terms of fantasy realms and whimsical (sometimes dangerous) supernatural creatures — 2001’s Academy Award-winning Spirited Away having much to do with this genre affiliation — are in for a surprise.

To his amazement, young Jirô (running in foreground) seems to share his dreams with
the flamboyant Caproni, a famed Italian aeronautical engineer who designs planes for
the sheer joy of mechanical artistry. Can a bespectacled country boy hope to do the
same, when he achieves adulthood?

Quite a surprise.

Although The Wind Rises opens with a surreal quality that feels like vintage Miyazaki, focusing on a young country boy smitten by the rhapsodic magic of aircraft, this film is grounded in historical fact: much more biography than imaginative fancy. The year is 1918, the boy is Jirô Horikoshi, and he often finds himself in plane-laden dreams that seem to be shared by famed Italian aeronautical designer Giovanni Battista Caproni, whose bombers played a significant role in World War I ... but who also has far-reaching concepts for peacetime passenger aircraft.

This is mere prologue: the spark that ignites Jirô’s determination to become an aircraft engineer. A few years pass; having reached young adulthood (now voiced, in this dubbed American version, by Joseph Gordon-Levitt), Jirô boards a train in order to attend college in Tokyo, little realizing that Miyazaki — employing the artistic license so beloved by writers who play with time and place — has orchestrated an appointment with fate.

What later came to be known as the Great Kanto Earthquake of 1923 strikes just as Jirô’s train reaches the city outskirts. He meets and rescues Nahoko Satomi (voiced by Emily Blunt), re-uniting her with family while firestorms sweep through the city and surrounding areas. Without much of a backward glance, Jirô then pushes on to his university, where he and new friend Honjô (John Krasinski) do their best to rescue books and other valuable property.

Time passes anew; Jirô and Honjô join the Mitsubishi engineering company in 1927, where they’re constantly browbeaten by their grumpy, imperious boss, Kurokawa (Martin Short). Even so, Jirô’s innovative concepts quickly catch the attention of senior designer Hattori (Mandy Patinkin).

These initial years at Mitsubishi unfold against Japan’s Great Depression, which forces the seriously understaffed and overworked Mitsubishi engineers to labor under significant handicaps. Jirô revels in the work for its own sake, having no outside life to distract him; Honjô supplies some outer-world context by lamenting that their primitive conditions are keeping them 10 years behind superior German designers.

By way of illustrating this disparity, Mitsubishi’s test aircraft must be hauled onto fields by oxen.

Don Jon: Love's labors lost

Don Jon (2013) • View trailer 
Three stars. Rating: R, for strong graphic sexual material and dialogue, nudity, profanity and drug use
By Derrick Bang

Fledgling writers have a tendency toward overkill, a problem that repeatedly plagues this film.

When Barbara (Scarlett Johansson, standing center) insists on meeting her new lover's
friends, Jon (Joseph Gordeon-Levitt, standing center) obliges by arranging a gathering
at a local club. Barbara, obviously pleased, is all sweetness and smiles ... but, in truth,
this is merely the latest in what will become a string of one-sided little victories.

Although dissecting the nature of True Love has been a laudable quest since stories were told via cave paintings, Joseph Gordon-Levitt — making his debut here as a big-screen writer and director — wields a meat cleaver when a scalpel would have sufficed. He has a solid sense of what’s funny, and a good ear for relationship dynamics, but his hammer-handed approach is guaranteed to alienate the very people likely to be most touched by this story’s core moral, and its outcome.

He also falls into another common trap. Repetition rarely enhances a lesson; we merely get bored. Or, in this case, disgusted.

In this particular case, it simply isn’t necessary to share what his porn-addicted character views during every spare moment; we don’t need to watch with him. The first montage of taut breasts, erect nipples, firm butts and willing mouths is sufficient; from that point forward, we know what he’s watching every time he sits in front of his laptop screen.

Indeed, all we need is the familiar F-sharp-major start-up chime, which Gordon-Levitt unerringly employs for maximum comic effect ... but then he ruins the moment, each time, with yet another tiresome display of thrusting bodies and naughty bits.

And vulgar off-camera commentary. Gordon-Levitt also beats that affectation to death.

The story, then:

Jon Martello Jr. (Gordon-Levitt) is a blue-collar New Jersey late twenty-/early thirtysomething bartender who takes enormous pride in his apartment, his car, his appearance and his ability to score with the ladies. Thanks to this latter talent, guy pals Bobby and Danny (Rob Brown and Jeremy Luke) have nicknamed him “Don Jon.”

Trouble is, Jon doesn’t enjoy women for their companionship or relationship potential; he objectifies them to the extreme and is interested in sex strictly for its own sake. But that isn’t satisfying; he can’t “lose himself” in lovemaking with a flesh-and-blood female partner, the way he experiences a brief “happy zone” with the assistance of an ideal Internet porn clip.

Lincoln: The greatness of a man

Lincoln (2012) • View trailer
Four stars. Rating: PG-13, for grim war violence, dramatic intensity and fleeting profanity
By Derrick Bang

Steven Spielberg’s Lincoln, fueled both by Tony Kushner’s lyrical screenplay and Daniel Day Lewis’ astonishing performance, may be one of the finest period dramas ever brought to the big screen.

A delegation from the Confederacy is en route with an offer of peace that could end
the four-year Civil War, but Lincoln (Daniel Day-Lewis, right) knows that if the Southern
states return to the union, all hope of passing the 13th Amendment will vanish. He
therefore plays a dangerous waiting game, despite the warning from Secretary of State
William Henry Seward (David Strathairn), who worries that any public hint of this delay
would blossom into a public relations nightmare.

It’s akin to time travel: Our 19th century United States comes to vibrant life, thanks to impeccable work by production designer Rick Carter (an Oscar winner for Avatar), costume designer Joanna Johnston and, most particularly, cinematographer Janusz Kaminski (Oscars for Schindler’s List and Saving Private Ryan). You can practically feel the dust, grit and coal smoke coming off the screen.

Kushner’s dense script demands — and receives — a massive cast, with scores of speaking parts. The role call is a Who’s Who of names we remember from history class, and the driving narrative often unfolds with the confrontational snap of TV’s West Wing.

And yet...

For all its authenticity and casting excellence, Spielberg’s 150-minute film is long, slow and occasionally ponderous. It’s also claustrophobic at times, with some dialogue exchanges seemingly designed for stage presentation (no surprise there, I guess, since Kushner is a Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright who “moonlights” in cinema).

The focus is narrow, as well. Although based in part on Doris Kearns Goodwin’s book, Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln, Kushner concentrates exclusively on the events of January 1865, with a brief epilogue in April of that same year. The goal, during this climactic point of Lincoln’s presidential career: passing the 13th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, in order to abolish slavery. Permanently.

The novel twist, which conflicts juicily with Lincoln’s generally accepted image: the degree to which he risked delaying the Civil War, already a four-year conflict that had claimed hundreds of thousands of young soldiers on both sides, in order to win passage of that amendment in the House of Representatives.