Cynically Sentimental

I’d been anticipating The Hangover Part II, not because I felt the first movie was exceptionally good (it was…alright), but because I thought it might be refreshing to watch a comedy which didn’t conform to the politically-correct dictates of “good taste.”  Unfortunately, while The Hangover Part II is, like its predecessor, moderately amusing and watchable, it suffers from “sequel-itis” and misses the boat in other ways as well.

For instance, despite the superficially-anarchic nature of its protagonists, depicted as drug-and-alcohol abusers (in one of the earliest scenes, Phil asks dentist Stu to let him sniff some nitrous oxide, and then attempts to steal a pad of prescription blanks) who harbour deep-seated tendencies towards violence and self-mutiliation (Stu admits he “has a demon inside”), these characters are also shown to be respectable, upper-middle-class professionals with wives and children.  The Hangover Part II pays only passing lip-service to this apparent contradiction, the madcap (at times absolutely criminal) antics of the characters have no lasting, adverse consequences (for them), and the film concludes with an absolutely unbelievable, wholly-contrived “affirmation” of family values, and not in an ironic way (as in the epilogue to Animal House, for example, where the oafish Bluto Blutarsky is identified as a future U.S. Senator).

Speaking of consequences, one of the oddest loose-ends of The Hangover Part II is the plot device of having 16-year-old Teddy (a talented cellist and future surgeon) accidentally cut off his finger.  This is played for laughs and no one—not even Teddy—seems disturbed by the apparent ruination of his future life plans (and it’s incomprehensible to believe his father, Stu’s future father-in-law, would shrug this off and not blame Stu).  At the very least, the film could have included one line of dialogue where Teddy said, “I’m kind of glad I lost my finger, it was my father who pushed me into music and medicine, and now the pressure to excel is off.”

So in the only instance where the so-called Wolf Pack’s night of drunken excess has lasting results (for one of the group, that is)—even Stu’s tattoo will be lasered-off when he returns to the USA—the tragic consequences are brushed aside.  [If one were to extra-filmically project realistic risks on their behaviour, Stu at the very least is in danger of contracting AIDS after having unprotected sex with a ladyboy…serious consequences indeed.  (I hope he tells his wife about this liaison before their wedding night, for her sake.)]  But no, nothing permanently bad could possibly happen to the protagonists of The Hangover Part II, and as far as those anonymous background  people killed, injured or left homeless or out of work as a result of the impromptu bachelor party…ah, screw ‘em!

This philosophical dilemma aside, The Hangover Part II does deliver a fair amount of fun and excitement.  The plot structure is the same as the first film: what did we do last night?  This has advantages and disadvantages.  On the positive side, the film is constructed as a mystery, and follows the traditional genre format, uncovering clues, interviewing people, moving on to the next step until the secret is revealed.  On the negative side, this means the spectacularly wild adventures of the Wolf Pack’s boys-night-out are only discussed, not shown.  

Some have characterised The Hangover Part II as closer to a remake than a sequel.  There are some references to the earlier movie and the script takes a few short-cuts but no particular knowledge of The Hangover is required.  Very quickly we learn Phil is the risk-taker, Stu is the timid one, Alan is…”challenged” (socially, emotionally, possibly mentally…).  Mr. Chow, Doug, and Mike Tyson return from the first film, but there is no inherent reason they couldn’t have been brand new characters.  And the narrative structure and basic plot is the same.  You don’t mess with success.  But…this also means the freshness of the original movie is lacking in this one.  There are fewer surprises, the possibility of “discovery” has been reduced, we already know Phil, Stu, Alan, etc., and how they are going to react: no one really has really grown or changed.   Only the backdrop is different, and while Bangkok is somewhat more exotic than Las Vegas, it doesn’t make that much difference in the movie.

In case anyone hasn’t read a synopsis, the set up is:  dorky dentist Stu is engaged to Lauren.  Stu, Phil, Doug, Alan (reluctantly invited by Stu at the request of Doug’s wife), and Lauren’s teenage brother Teddy travel to Thailand for the wedding (Lauren and Teddy are of Thai descent and their wealthy parents still live there).  Stu insists on having no bachelor party, fearing a repeat of their adventures in Las Vegas, but “it happens again!”  Stu, Phil and Alan wake up in a sleazy Bangkok hotel with no memory of how they got there; Teddy is missing (well, his finger is still there).  Doug, in the superfluous Zeppo Marx role, has to cover for them with Lauren and her family as the Odd Trio scrambles to find Teddy before the wedding.  Drugs, alcohol, gunfire, car chases, a manic Mr. Chow, Russian mobsters, ladyboys, a cute monkey, a silent monk, Ed gets a tattoo on his face, Phil is shot, Alan’s head is shaved, hilarity ensues.  Well, maybe not hilarity, but…moderate amusement anyway.

To be fair, the performances in The Hangover Part II are quite good, with Bradley Cooper, Ed Helms, and Zach Galifianakis each playing to their strengths.  At no point does anyone threaten to steal the movie, even though Galifianakis has arguably the flashiest role (he’s also the least-consistent character, however, and he’s short-changed by the script at times).  Phil wants to party hearty, but once the party is over and the trio shifts to crisis mode, he becomes the straight man, the voice of reason compared to hysterical Stu and weird Alan.  Aside from Ken Jeong, who is quite funny as the bitchy Mr. Chow, everyone else more or less blends into the background.  The production values are fine and the film makes good use of Bangkok in particular and Thailand in general as locations.  

My reaction to The Hangover Part II  was basically the same as it was to The Hangover.  Amusing, worth seeing, well-made, but not earth-shakingly good.

            During a temporary lull in the release of any new films of interest (to me) to cinemas, I reached back into my vast backlog of “films to watch some day” and extracted two French features from the mountainous pile of DVDs and videos in my apartment: Belphégor and Belphégor: le fantôme du Louvre.  Although both are credited as adaptations of a novel by author Arthur Bernède, the latter film is only barely related to the book (and, by extension, the earlier screen version), and can hardly be called a remake at all.

            Curiously, in France the most memorable “Belphégor” is apparently the hugely popular 1965 television mini-series, mostly unknown to the rest of the world (it is available on DVD, however).  This series was, like the 1927 version, a mystery tale, whereas the 2001 film is a fantasy probably inspired by the popular success of 1999’s The Mummy.

            Belphégor (1927), directed by Henri Desfontaines, was produced by the Société des Cinéromans company, a partnership between actor René Navarre and popular authors Arthur Bernède and Gaston Leroux (best-known for “The Phantom of the Opera”).  Navarre had previously starred as master criminal Fantômas in Louis Feuillade’s famous 1913 serial, and later appeared as Vidocq, a real-life detective whose adventures had been chronicled (and fictionalised) in novels by Bernède.  In Belphégor, Navarre plays Bernède’s character “Chantecoq,” one of those pre-hardboiled private detectives in the Sherlock Holmes mode: wealthy, urbane, a master of disguise, surrounded by loyal associates and employees.  50 years of age at the time Belphégor was made, Navarre has no love interest in the film (he has a grown daughter but no wife, so presumably he’s a widower), therefore a secondary (romantically eligible) protagonist is supplied in the person of journalist Jacques Bellegarde (who eventually marries Chantecoq’s daughter). 

            Belphégor is a four-part “serial,” although this label is slightly misleading: the format of Hollywood “serials” was (in general) a weekly 2-reel episode for 3 or 4 months until the tale was told, whereas Belphégor consists of 4 parts, each running from 45 minutes to an hour.  Furthermore, the cliffhanger endings which typified classic Hollywood serials are absent.  However, the four parts of Belphégor are not merely linked short films which could, in some instances, stand on their own as independent works.  There no sub-plots resolved in each episode: aside from the very brief recaps of the story which open parts 2-4, the whole narrative unfolds seamlessly, as if this were one extremely long feature film which just happened to have been cut into four sections.

            Belphégor also differs from Hollywood serials—and indeed, from its predecessors such as Feuillade’s Fantômas series and his classic Les vampires (Feuillade had died in 1925, and no one really took his particular niche in French cinema)—in that there is very little physical action.  There are no stunts, no daredevil car chases or leaps or brawls or gun battles or explosions.  Belphégor consists mostly of people talking, some skulking, then more talking.  It’s not boring, although certainly a bit of judicious cutting would have improved the pace.  There are far too many scenes in which characters have long conversations (related to the audience via sub-titles), and others in which mundane tasks are carried out in excessive detail: some cinematic short-hand would have been appreciated here.  Still, this gives the viewer time to admire the sets, which range from impressively Art Deco-ish (Simone’s “studio”) to interior design-crimes (aficionados of horrid striped and plaid wallpaper will have a field day here) and to appreciate the acting, which similarly covers the spectrum from surprisingly modern to excruciatingly mannered.  René Navarre is quite good as Chantecoq, handling the role in a serious and under-stated manner; Lucien Dalsace falls into the mid-range as Jacques Bellegarde, while a fair number of the villainous and supporting players display a more…flamboyant acting technique. 

            Belphégor deals with a series of mysterious appearances by a masked-and-robed figure in the Louvre; a security guard is murdered, and a later police trap is foiled when the phantom—“Belphégor” (the name of a legendary demon)—uses knock-out gas.  Journalist Jacques Bellegarde of “Le Petit Parisien” (the real-life newspaper which published the original story in serial installments), investigates, and eventually discovers famous detective Chantecoq and his vivacious daughter Colette are also on the case.  Nonetheless, Belphégor and his henchmen succeed in penetrating a gallery of the Louvre, moving a large statue and pedestal, and stealing a coffer full of jewels buried beneath the museum’s floor.  A later flashback shows the jewels being hidden on the orders of Catherine de Medici just before the Duc de Guise entered Paris in 1588 (the Louvre was originally a palace before it became a museum). Belphégor frames Bellegarde for the crimes but Chantecoq hides the reporter in his own home, to the delight of the detective’s daughter.  At the conclusion of the film, Chantecoq rescues Colette from Belphégor’s gang, exposes the masked villain as Simone Desroches (played by Elmire Vautier, René Navarre’s real-life wife), a wealthy young woman and the ex-fiancee of Bellegarde, who had been driven to crime by the loss of her fortune and her opium addiction!

            Despite its length, clunky pace, dearth of action, and variable acting, Belphégor is not without its charms.  Although little footage (if any) was shot inside the Louvre, a number of other actual locations were used and it’s always entertaining to get a glimpse of a place in the past.  Furthermore, though the plot isn’t really that clever or complex or logical, the mystery unravels slowly and holds one’s interest. It’s fun to watch the interactions between the characters, who generally fall into four camps: Simone and her circle, Belphégor’s gang, Chantecoq and Bellegarde’s group, and the police/museum officials.  There’s enough sniping, jealousy, insincere flattery, posing, trickery, boasting, outrage, and intrigue for several films.  Belphégor “himself” veers between seeming impressively creepy and mincingly tentative, but one scene stands out: the villain has released sleeping gas in the Louvre, causing the waiting police to pass out.  As he collapses, police inspector Menardier rips off Belphégor’s hooded mask…but instead of revealing the criminal’s face, a shocking, almost monstruous visage appears: then we realise it’s simply a gas mask and goggles. 

            Belphégor was restored by the Cinémathèque Française in 1988; the version I saw is of good visual quality, with an occasionally appropriate musical score (probably “library music,” and as such not composed to specifically accompany certain scenes).  On my copy, the original French sub-titles were read aloud in Italian (!); not speaking either one of these languages, I was initially crestfallen, but was fortunately able to obtain a Spanish sub-title file, which allowed me to fully understand the plot.

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            Belphégor—Le fantôme du Louvre (2001) retains only the barest outline of its namesake’s original premise: a strange, hooded and cloaked figure haunts the Egyptology section of the Louvre (actually in the 1927 Belphégor, it was the hall of the “dieux barbares” [Barbarian Gods]).  However, although a young woman is exposed as the mysterious Belphégor, she’s not a master criminal out to steal a hidden treasure, but rather an innocent who’s been possessed by an ancient Egyptian spirit.  Belphégor (2001) capitalises on the recent success of The Mummy (1999); its tale of an occasionally-deadly but basically misunderstood Egyptian spirit also resembles the later Les aventures extraordinaires d’Adèle Blanc-Sec (2010).  Comments on IMDB are largely negative, seemingly because many viewers condemned the film’s audacity to “remake” the 1965 television classic (even including a cameo appearance by Juliette Greco, star of that version).  Appropriating the name and setting of a popular work and then changing the entire plot and jettisoning all of the characters is one way to irritate people, I suppose.

            Nonetheless, Belphégor—Le fantôme du Louvre is not a bad film at all, taken on its own merits, although the “misunderstood monster” concept adds a light-hearted twist that undercuts the earlier scenes of menace and murder, and certain plot elements simply don’t add up or pop up then go nowhere.  The film looks lovely: most of the action transpires in the Louvre itself (apparently a fair amount of footage was shot in the actual museum complex) and in an apartment building rather improbably located across the street.  The then-new Louvre pyramid adds an interesting visual touch, particularly since this movie’s “Belphégor” is a reincarnated Egyptian.  The production values are slick and the special effects are satisfactory, although I’m not especially enamoured of the CGI “ghost” utilised to portray the wayward spirit. 

            A mummy recently “discovered” in the Louvre storerooms is eagerly examined by curators.  In a creepy but ultimately pointless prologue, we see the artifacts being shipped from Egypt to France in the 1920s or 1930s; the crew and passengers of the freighter all die on the journey.  The employment of 21st-century technological methods of examination seemingly “wakes up” the spirit of the mummy, and a mysterious hooded/masked figure is later seen floating through the museum.  A guard who confronts the intruder goes mad and leaps to his death.  Expert Egyptologist Glenda is imported from England, and police inspector Verlac is called back from retirement, to investigate the mummy and the crimes, respectively.  Verlac had faced Belphégor once before, in the 1960s (another nod to the TV show) but was never able to solve the mystery.  Now he has a chance to redeem himself.

            Meanwhile, lovely Lisa—who lives across the street with her grandmother—is possessed by the Egyptian ghost (grandmother dies).  Since the spirit has some affinity for the electrical grid and disrupts the apartment’s lights, electrician Martin is called in and falls in love with Lisa, but she keeps wandering off in a daze, entering the Louvre dressed as Belphégor, and stealing things from the collection.  Eventually, everyone deduces that the mummy wasn’t buried properly and has been attempting to assemble the proper artifacts for his trip to the underworld.  Burial ceremony finally performed, the ghost disappears, the problem is solved, the movie ends.

            As noted above, Belphégor (2001) begins on a rather grim and foreboding note, but later jettisons its horror-movie pretensions and becomes an innocuous romantic fantasy.  Such a drastic change in tone can be off-putting, especially if one has been misled by the film’s advertising, which suggests a dark fantasy-horror movie (this might also explain some of the negative reactions, if viewers felt cheated).  Although the 2001 Belphégor completely alters the “criminals searching for a hidden treasure in the Louvre” plot of its predecessors, it substitutes a mystery of its own, i.e., what does the maleficient mummy’s ghost want?  This is fine as far as it goes and it doesn’t make Belphégor a bad movie, but I tend to concur with those who feel the picture doesn’t deliver on the genre-specific promise of the first half-hour or so.    

                The performances of the major players are quite good, though the supporting players are less distinctive and interesting than—for instance—the gallery of eccentrics in the 1927 movie.  Sophie Marceau is lovely and—at least before her character is possessed and she walks around in a daze for the rest of the film—lively as Lisa.  Julie Christie is amusing as the ditsy British Egyptologist.  Michel Serrault and Frédéric Diefenthal are sympathetic and solid as Verlac and Martin, respectively. 

            The two Belphégors are more different than they are alike: long-form vs. feature-length, black-and-white silent vs. widescreen, colour, sound and CGI, mystery vs. fantasy.  Still, there was merit to be had in each viewing: my time was not wasted.

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            And now that the summer-film season has begun (Memorial Day weekend here in the USA), I’m sure there will be some interesting films in cinemas each and every week for the next few months (he says optimistically).  Not that I’ll abandon watching older films or international cinema, heaven forfend!

Allow me to apologise for characterising Water for Elephants as a “chick flick” (and thereby implying it was not apt for general audiences), but my confusion was understandable.  The advertisements, the posters, the pre-release hype all play up the grand romance between Robert Pattinson and Reese Witherspoon.  Psh!  This is a perfectly satisfactory, at times grim, period drama and its “romance” (in my opinion) is one of its less-important attributes.  Pattinson and Witherspoon don’t have a lot of chemistry, not that the script gives them much mushy stuff to do, anyway.  Frankly, they’re thrown together chiefly because Christopher Waltz’s character is an insanely jealous and possessive brute, not because their eyes meet and celestial music begins.

Misconstruing the nature of Water for Elephants bothers me a bit: who knows how many films I’ve refused to watch on general principles which might have been entertaining?  Should I go back and look at Twilight?  Or Legally Blonde?  Or Furry Vengeance?  Whoa, let’s not get crazy here, life is too short and there are too many films to see, some hard choices must be made.  I’m happy I decided to watch Water for Elephants, and perhaps this will make me slightly less parochial in my film-watching in the future (though to be honest, I think I really do watch a wide spectrum of cinema, but admittedly I avoid certain genres), let’s leave it at that.

There isn’t much not to like about Water for Elephants.  Yes, the framing story smacks slightly of Titanic (one might logically wonder why Hal Holbook’s voice as Jacob isn’t heard throughout, since the voiceover narration is supposed to be him reminiscing about the 1930s from his 2000s perspective; but then again, that would mean we’d have to listen to Holbrook’s old-man voice during the film rather than Pattinson’s, so it was an understandable decision), and the circumstances which bring Jacob to the circus (thus putting the plot in motion) are moderately contrived, and I’ve already mentioned the somewhat unconvincing nature of Jacob and Marlena’s romance, but other than those minor points…oh, and a major plot development hinges on the fact that an elephant understands Polish and Jacob just happens to be the son of Polish immigrants…and the Benzini Bros. circus is allegedly on the brink of bankruptcy but has its own train and scores of employees and circus owner August carries around an extra set of evening clothes he loans to Jacob…but even taking into consideration those additional minor points, this is a darned good movie.

After the sudden death of his parents, Jacob drops out of Cornell’s veterinary school and hits the open road.  He hops a freight train out of town only to discover it’s the Benzini Brothers circus train and circus folk don’t rightly cotton to interlopers.  However, Jacob’s Ivy League education and his willingness to shovel horse manure earn him a temporary position with the show, later cemented by the revelation that he’s had veterinary training.  His innate love of animals causes him to shoot a suffering horse, against the orders of circus boss August (whose young wife Marlena is the show’s equestrian star), and this nearly gets him the boot once more.  Jacob’s job is saved when the mercurial August buys Rosie the elephant: Jacob discovers Rosie likes whiskey and understands Polish, allowing him to win her trust and thus implement her repertoire of audience-pleasing tricks.  The pachyderm—between bouts of savage abuse from August—becomes Marlena’s new ride and the saviour of the once-failing circus.  But the growing attraction between Jacob and Marlena spoils August’s temporary good humour and we’re in for some unpleasantness, don’t you know…

The evocation of circus life in Depression-era American in Water for Elephants is extremely satisfying: no glaring anachronisms (either in attitude or image) are apparent (although I wonder if police were actively “raiding” elegant nightclubs that just happened to be serving illegal alcohol, and if they were, did they actually arrest the customers?), and the overall milieu does not seem overly sanitised.  The behind-the-scenes footage of the circus folk has a realistic feel about it: this is no glossy fantasy world, but rather a place where people fight, drink, laugh, work, and cry, and where animals suffer, poop, and perform for appreciative but uncomprehending audiences. The production values are excellent and Francis Lawrence’s direction is assured and unobtrusive.  

The performances are generally quite good, which surprised me slightly: having never seen a Reese Witherspoon film and having only watched Robert Pattinson in his brief Harry Potter appearance, my (unwarranted and, it seems, unfair) low opinion of their acting ability was based solely upon hearsay, but I willingly admit they’re fine here.  Despite my earlier comments about the superficial nature of their romance and the lack of screen chemistry between Jacob and Marlena, both characters are genuinely well-delineated in script and performance.  Jacob’s rash decision to drop out of college marks him as impulsive and maybe something of a quitter, but he proves himself to be a regular guy, not snobbish or boastful, with a well-defined moral sense.  Marlena’s tale is the hackneyed orphan-raised-in-foster-homes-marries-older-man-and-is-grateful-to-him-even-though-she-doesn’t-love-him, but she’s sympathetic and likeable.  

Christopher Waltz seems to have spent the majority of his career working on German television before being “discovered” by Quentin Tarantino for Inglorious Basterds; he followed that with an amusing role in the light-weight The Green Hornet, and now seems slated to appear in every other film project being made in Hollywood.  The role of August is hardly an original one, but Waltz is convincing as the pathologically jealous, socially and personally insecure, unstable circus owner, switching from affable suavity to biting sarcasm to frightening sadism in the blink of an eye.

In conclusion, Water for Elephants reinforces my belief that choosing which films to see or not see will never be an exact science.  The Water for Elephants that was advertised was not one I wanted to see.  Indeed, apparently neither advertising, publicity, reviews, trailers, interviews, nor even word-of-mouth can be trusted, since these are all skewed to either sell the film, recommend the film, or not recommend the film.  What a dilemma!  

Fortunately, I ignored my instincts and did watch Water for Elephants and was rewarded with a solid, well-produced/acted/directed drama.  It’s not a great film, but it’s really rather good.

“Let’s remake John Ford’s The Searchers as a 3-D post-apocalyptic vampire/martial arts action-horror movie!”  If that was your “high concept” idea, I hate to be the one to break the news, but…it’s been done.  Priest is allegedly based on a series of graphic novels, so I can’t say who originally had the “inspiration” for the plot of this particular film, but if you’re familiar with the 1956 John Wayne vehicle—considered a classic by such cineastes as Martin Scorsese and Steven Spielberg—then you’ll easily see the parallels:  

The Priest = Ethan Edwards (an older man, a loner, who has adopted his brother’s family as his own, and is in love with his brother’s wife; after his brother and sister-in-law are killed in an attack and his niece abducted, the hero sets off to find her);

Hicks = Martin (young, brash, determined to save the kidnaped girl; he forms an uneasy alliance with the protagonist);

Lucy = Debbie (abducted by Indians/vampires);

Black Hat = Scar (the instigator of the raid and one who kidnaps Lucy/Debbie);

(At the risk of being facetious, I suppose we could say the Priestess plays the Ward Bond or Hank Worden role!)  

The Priest is, like Ethan, an expert Indian/vampire killer who has to some extent outlived his usefulness, since the threat he was trained to combat has been—so it seems—defeated.  The film draws a fairly clear analogy between vampires and Native Americans: both are placed on “reservations,” but occasionally break out to threaten the frontier (= the “Wasteland” in Priest).  Indeed, both films are largely set in lightly-populated desert areas, a wilderness to be tamed, in contrast to “back East” in The Searchers and the dreary walled city of Priest. 

 There are a few twists and differences, to be sure: the Priest is Lucy’s father rather than her uncle (although she was raised as his niece and doesn’t know of their relationship), and Hicks is Lucy’s boyfriend rather than her older cousin.  But the basic premise of the two movies is the same, as is the strained relationship between Priest/Hicks (Ethan/Martin): if Lucy has been infected by vampirism, Priest vows to kill her, while Hicks states his intention to protect her (cf., Ethan, fearing Debbie has been indoctrinated into Native American ways, plans to kill her rather than have her become a “squaw,” while Martin objects).  

To be honest, Priest does a fairly good job adapting the plot of The Searchers to a post-apocalyptic milieu.  Aside from the whole “vampire” thing, the major difference in the two films is Priest’s view of a world ruled by a theocracy—and specifically, the Catholic Church.  The Catholic Church isn’t named, of course (it’s just “the Church”), and some might argue for a more vague interpretation of the film’s secondary menace, but I’m not aware of too many other Christian denominations which have “monsignors,” use rosary beads, and require a vow of celibacy for its priests.  The Church is certainly painted in negative terms, albeit not necessarily religiously negative terms.  That is, aside from the oft-repeated “to go against the Church is to go against God” statement, the Church functions much as any other (cinematic) totalitarian government does, and there are the standard moral conflicts between the hero and the entrenched bureaucracy, which seeks to perpetuate its own existence even if this means covering up a looming threat.

But, despite the abundance of crosses on display (including one tattooed on the face of the protagonist), it is not Christianity (or even a more generic God) that defeats the vampire menace, but rather blades, bullets, bombs, and sunlight.  The vampires of Priest more closely resemble hellish pit bulls than the suave, romantic humanoid vampires of a thousand previous movies: they have no eyes, plenty of sharp teeth, live in the dark, don’t turn into bats, apparently aren’t that intelligent and don’t talk (basically, whenever they’re shown in the film, they’re running around full tilt trying to kill things).  They have “familiars,” Nosferatu-like humans who serve as their guardians and acolytes, and then there’s Black Hat (movie short-hand for villains, his very name is another linkage to filmic Westerns), a human-vampire hybrid and the mastermind behind the Vampire Rebellion.

Priest begins with an animated prologue telling of a long war between vampires and humans; the humans finally prevailed thanks to the warrior class of Priests who were trained to destroy the inhuman monsters.  The remaining vampires were banished to reservations and the Church disbanded the Priest class, fearing their power.  The protagonist of Priest is visited by Hicks, the sheriff of a small town in the Wasteland, who says the Priest’s brother’s family was attacked by vampires and his niece Lucy abducted.  The Priest asks permission of the ruling Church council to resume his vampire-killing ways, but the Church insists there is no vampire threat, that the attack was probably the result of marauding bandits.  The Priest defies their orders and sets off with Hicks to save his niece.  Four Priests (well, 3 Priests and a Priestess) are dispatched to capture the defiant Priest.  As it develops, Black Hat has a plan to rekindle the war between vampires and humans, and it might just succeed…dun dun DUN.

Coming in, I was aware Priest was in 3-D and I knew the vampires were CGI creations, and neither of these were (for me) positive attributes.  However, I’ll be magnanimous enough to say that—although some of the film is too damn dark and hard to see (curse you, 3-D glasses!)—a few of the 3-D effects were actually entertaining.  On the other hand, there was no particular aesthetic or artistic reason for Priest to have been made (or post-converted, to be precise) to 3-D.  It was a business decision, plain and simple.  Director Scott Stewart and star Paul Bettany’s previous project together was the renegade-angel film Legion, and while that wasn’t a horrid flop, it probably didn’t make many people excitedly await another Stewart-Bettany movie (even though Priest is much better than Legion).  The cast of Priest is competent but not exactly star-studded, so there wasn’t much box-office help there, and while vampires have been an insanely hot film topic for over a decade, I don’t think there will be a lot of audience cross-over between Twilight and Priest. I mean, there are sparkly vampires, and there are CGI skinned-monster-dog vampires, and never the twain shall meet.

Aside from the dubious charms of 3-D and CGI, Priest is adequately produced, with some cool motorcycles and a bad-ass train on display in the action sequences.  As noted above, the performers do their jobs satisfactorily: Paul Bettany (who looks like he could be the son of Ed Harris) is appropriately serious, stern, competent and deadly; Maggie Q, attractive and stalwart as the Priestess; Christopher Plummer, sinister as the stubborn Church bureaucrat; Karl Urban seems to be playing Black Hat as “a villainous Clint Eastwood with fangs,” and that’s a good thing, trust me.  It’s also nice to see a favourite of mine from the ’80s, Mädchen Amick, in a small role: I didn’t recognise her at first, but I said to myself “that is an attractive woman,” and lo and behold, it was my Mädchen!  The pacing of Priest is fine—the film clocks in at under 90 minutes and a fair amount of that is taken up with the credits and the animated prologue, so there isn’t a lot of time for dawdling.  Set up the premise and characters, and let the good times roll!

I don’t want to overrate Priest, because it has its flaws.  Despite the explanatory prologue, it’s difficult to understand why the vampires represent such a threat to civilisation, given that they’re depicted as little more than ravening beasts (who, moreover, fear sunlight and have no eyes).  Black Hat is the brains behind the operation and he is (as he points out) the first vampire-human hybrid (and the only one, so far).  

       Furthermore, Priest, like some other contemporary films, has a tendency to impart superior martial arts skills to the protagonists (and villains as well), without bothering to cast actual martial arts experts in these roles.  This means the fight scenes are 50% quick cuts and 50% optical effects, which reduces their realism (and hence their impact) considerably.  Sure, “classic” martial arts films utilised cinematic trickery, but this was to enhance the action, not to give the impression that the performers had abilities they did not possess.  Perhaps I’m slightly less forgiving when it comes to martial arts than I am with regard to “standard” movie fisticuffs, which have always been achieved by employing stunt men and/or judicious camera angles and editing.  And the action in Priest is good enough, it’s exciting, it’s just not…great.  

I’m not sure how highly I’d have rated Priest if I’d had to pay to see it (especially with a 3-D surcharge, argh!).  Priest is an adequate action-fantasy film, but it remains to be seen whether audiences who have to purchase tickets will feel it’s a satisfactory investment of their entertainment dollars. 

PS: lest it be said that I only watch action and horror films, be it hereby noted for the record that I intend to see Water for Elephants soon, chick flick or not.  Heaven help us.

            I fear I’m at risk of losing my hipster cred. Thor is a recent “mainstream” film I actually enjoyed, and following so soon after the fun Fast Five, I’m getting slightly worried.  Where’s the irony, where’s the iconoclasm?  Not that either movie changed my life, and neither movie stands a chance of being shown in one of my classes in the near future, but if the filmmakers set out to make a pleasing commercial product, they succeeded in both instances.

            Not to say Thor is perfect.  I automatically rebel against films which are more CGI than live-action, though perhaps a fantasy, comic-book-based picture such as Thor might warrant a partial waiver of the rule.  The same thing goes for 3-D, which is a liability to be overcome rather than a selling point, at least in my book.  One cannot say Thor is especially profound or moving as a drama, or even an adrenaline-inducing thrill ride like Fast Five, despite the plethora of battle-spectacle.

            Furthermore, though as a lad I was a huge comic book fan, and “The Avengers” was one of my favourite comics, it’s a tad annoying to get the feeling half the comic book films being made today are simply teasers setting us up for the future movie version of The Avengers.  Thor features a cameo by archer Hawkeye, an overt reference to Tony (Iron Man) Stark, a possible allusion to the Hulk, and an appearance by Nick Fury; a more generous assessment would be that these are clever in-jokes rather than almost subliminal plugs for the forthcoming The Avengers. 

            Full disclosure, the comic book version of “Thor” (and I’m talking ’60s and early ’70s here, folks) was not on my “must-buy” list.  I vaguely recall he had a secret identity as limping doctor Donald Blake (who changed into Thor by striking his walking-stick on the sidewalk) and Jane Foster was his nurse.  And of course I can still sing the “The Mighty Thor” theme song from the animated series:  ‘Cross the Rainbow Bridge of Asgard, Where the booming heavens roar, You’ll behold in breathless wonder, The God of Thunder, Mighty Thor!”  Or was it “blooming heavens”?  Never mind, I was a Captain America-Avengers guy, mostly. 

            The plot of Thor is rather slight and certainly open-ended.  I was wondering how the screenwriters would handle the concept of Norse “gods,” given today’s politically-correct climate, and I have to say they do it rather cleverly.  Thor, Odin, Loki, et al., are apparently more-or-less mortal inhabitants of the (parallel?) universe of “Asgard,” who “might seem like gods” to the less-advanced residents of Earth, to whom they appeared in ancient times, saving the planet from King Laufey and his Frost Giants (from yet another parallel universe).  Once again, Arthur C. Clarke’s aphorism that “any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic” is trotted out.  So Thor isn’t a god (although the posters still refer to him as “The God of Thunder”) as in “worship me, mortals,” and he doesn’t use magic, he’s just some handsome dude from another planet with super-powers and a big hammer (that resembles a toaster on a stick). 

            Thor’s intemperate reaction to a Frost Giant raid on Asgard gets him banished to Earth as a mortal, to the delight of his foster brother Loki.  When Odin falls into a deep trance from all the tsouris, Loki takes over as king.  Meanwhile, Thor is discovered in the desert by scientists Jane Foster and Dr. Selvig, while agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. find his wayward hammer (which, shades of Excalibur, no one can lift).  Thor’s four buddies—in one of the film’s best lines, they’re identified by an observer as “Xena, Jackie Chan, and Robin Hood” (overlooking the Falstaffian Volstagg)—join him on Earth, and Loki sends the robotic Destroyer to eliminate his competition for the throne of Asgard.  Thor’s willingness to sacrifice himself restores his super-powers (and his hammer), and he dashes back home to fight the usurper.

            Ironically, the Earth scenes in which Thor is just a muscular guy suffering from culture shock are the most entertaining in the film.  In one scene, he enters a pet shop and demands a horse.  “We only sell cats and dogs,” the clerk informs him.  “Then sell me one large enough to ride,” Thor replies.  As the hunky hero, Chris Hemsworth is almost Errol Flynn-esque at times, swaggering and yet self-mocking.  His interactions with Jane, her ditsy assistant Darcy, and conveniently-Nordic Selvig are generally amusing, if relatively superficial (though, frankly, his “romance” with Jane seems forced). 

        In contrast, the Asgard and Jotunheim (where the Frost Giants live) scenes are stiff and bombastic, with lots of people shouting and posturing (and all of this footage is heavily CGI-ed, making it feel even more artificial—not necessarily bad, but more clearly fantasy).  So we’ve got two films in one: a dark “castle intrigue” picture full of robes, swords, and British accents, and a contemporary “action” movie set in a New Mexico desert town.  The dichotomy between these is nicely balanced, and I don’t know if I’d have enjoyed Thor as much if it was all one style or the other.

            The performances are generally strong.  Hemsworth does a good job as his character evolves from the brash, entitled, proud, “I’m the baddest guy in Asgard and plus, I’ll soon be king!” prince of Asgard to someone who realises other people count as well (and not just his drinking-brawling buddies either).  Natalie Portman is cute but completely unbelievable as a scientist (didn’t buy it for a single second, nope); Anthony Hopkins is solid as Odin (not a surprise at all).  Sinister, devious Loki is effectively impersonated by Tom Hiddleston, who at times eerily resembles Roddy McDowall.

            My ambivalence about CGI was mentioned earlier: the Asgard/Jotunheim sequences really couldn’t have been done effectively without heavy CGI.  The design (although dark and forbidding, who’d want to live there?) and execution are generally quite good, and since this is a comic book adaptation set at least partly in a fantasy world, I’ll grudgingly admit I bought into the vision.  The Earth scenes (set in New Mexico) unfortunately also rely on CGI for the action set-pieces (primarily, Destroyer’s rampage): I understand the need for this and it’s not badly done, but there just something about CGI in an ostensibly realistic setting…argh.

            In sum, Thor makes 114 minutes pass quickly, is reasonably nice to look at, features some competent performers, has a handful of clever lines of dialogue, and (surprisingly) contains little to irritate me.  114 minutes of mildly pleasurable entertainment?  So sue me, I’ll take it!  Does that make me…mainstream?  Mawww….

I’ve been licensed to drive for nearly 40 years now and like most Americans of my generation, automobiles are an integral part of my life.  I cannot imagine living without a private car, I relish the freedom and flexibility that automobile ownership conveys to a resident of this extremely large, not very public-transportation-friendly nation.  Yet I’m not a “gear-head,” I don’t know an awful lot about automobiles (despite a youthful stint working in a gas station), NASCAR means nothing to me, and if I won the lottery and could own any car in the world, I’d have to do a lot of research before I made a decision.  So the Fast and the Furious films haven’t registered significantly on my radar screen before now—I was aware of them, but had no desire to see any of them.

            But, in a slow film week, I gave Fast Five a chance and to my mild surprise, I came away entertained by a fast-paced and fun—albeit formulaic and highly illogical—product.  The script is superficial, with dozens of plot holes, and the action sequences are outlandishly, preposterously unbelievable (even given the context)—if there were penalties for violating the laws of physics and logic, the Fast Five filmmakers would be serving life without parole.

            However, the film moves so quickly that most people will forgive these lapses—if they notice them at all, even in retrospect.  Cars driving fast, outrageous stunts, lots of shooting, plus a fair amount of fighting, trash-talk, attractive women, interesting locations (the majority of the movie is set in Rio de Janeiro: in case one forgets, we’re reminded by about a dozen shots of the giant Christ the Redeemer statue overlooking the city), and things blow up real good, and there’s Brazilian music on the soundtrack, what’s not to like?

            (Please, if you care about my feelings, don’t tell me the car stunts were CGI—especially the stupendous, logic-defying but breath-taking final rampage through Rio, as Dom and O’Conner tandem-tow a huge metal cube (a bank vault) behind their speeding cars, with dozens of police cars in hot pursuit.  It would break my heart to learn I was watching a damned cartoon.)

            Actually, at the risk of sounding like a conservative curmudgeon (that’s only half accurate), Fast Five is yet another contemporary film with a skewed sense of morality.  The protagonists are a gang of criminals, and the script works extremely hard to cast them in the “good-guy crooks” mode of light-hearted heist films (cf Ocean’s Eleven, To Catch a Thief, The Thomas Crown Affair, The Italian Job, etc.), versus the “real, bad-guy crooks” seen in The Asphalt Jungle, Reservoir Dogs, and so on. 

            First, their target is an evil gangster’s drug money, so that’s fair game.  “Ladrón que roba a ladrón, gana cien años de perdón,” as the dicho says.  Especially since the greedy, sleazy, vicious Brazilian gangster tricked Dom (Vin Diesel) and his pals, framed them for murder, and then ordered his henchmen to kill them.  By showing such criminals—who are much worse than “mere” career car thieves—the filmmakers make the protagonists seem heroic in comparison. 

            Furthermore, Dom’s gang consists of his pregnant sister (+1 sympathy point), her boyfriend, his brother (who has a Brazilian wife and adorable infant, +2 sympathy points), and a multi-racial, multi-national group of friendly, wise-cracking guys (and one sexy woman).  They only want to pull “one last job” so they can retire and enjoy life.  One of them even wants to get a real job and earn an honest living! 

            To stack the deck even more, the protagonists are also being pursued by a ruthless, arrogant super-S.W.A.T. team of ugly-American agents led by the brutal, bulky, black-goateed, bald Hobbs (Dwayne Johnson).  Talk about underdogs! 

            The film (of course) doesn’t show the hundreds of people (not all of them criminals or corrupt policemen, one would assume) who were probably killed and injured by the gun-shooting, car-crashing, bus-flipping, building-wrecking antics of our “heroes.”  Why would it?  Collateral damage is so irrelevant.

            But as noted earlier, the beauty of Fast Five is that one doesn’t think about these things.  Having seen none of the previous films in the series, I had no backstory on the characters.  So, Dom is this bald guy who drives real fast?  And he’s got a sister Mia, whose boyfriend is ex-cop O’Conner?  Plus Dom has the aforementioned brother-with-a-wife-and-baby (*cough—dead meat—cough*)?  And they all like cars and driving fast and breaking the law?  But now they’re on the run in Brazil, since Dom was sentenced to 25 years in prison in the USA for something, but Mia and O’Conner helped him escape?  And, despite needing money so badly that they accept the “mission” of stealing some fancy cars from a train speeding through the Brazilian desert (who knew?), after the job goes badly Dom has enough money to fly in a bunch of his best buds, purchase a considerable amount of high-tech equipment and install it in a gigantic warehouse, so they can plan the epic robbery of the aforementioned gangster’s ill-gotten gains?  Alright, I’ll buy that premise (brain officially on vacation for the duration).

            So, the action scenes are quite good, the script is silly but serviceable.  Despite a relatively large cast—Dom’s posse, Hobbs and his agents, the actual bad guys (the Brazilian drug kingpin and his gang)—everybody gets a little tiny bit of characterisation, a catch-phrase, a snatch of backstory, a distinguishing shtick (except for the federal agents who work for Dom, they’re quite anonymous, just a multi-racial—of course—group of muscular guys).  No one has to “act” very much, though.  That’s not a problem. Need we critique the performances?   Fists, guns, and cars will do the acting in this movie!

            Seriously, Fast Five is fast film fun.