Showing posts with label John C. Reilly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John C. Reilly. Show all posts

11.2.13

I'm Bad, And That's Good: Wreck-It Ralph (2012)

I am quite uncertain about the overarching message relating to Wreck-It Ralph, while it appears to be a scathing critique of capitalist based endeavors, it also does little to clearly condemn the notion of conformity as the only means to assure safety and order.  What is excellent about the film, regardless of a convoluted moral message, is its sheer degree of watchability, particularly visually.  A diehard video game fan will likely react to this film in one of two ways.  Either they will dismiss the very minimal use of famous video game iconography due to licensing issues and thus find it to be an all around failure in concerns to the notion of a game about games (I assure you it is not quite that meta).  The other reaction to the film will be one that embraces the minimal use of video game iconography in favor of a visual style that commits to some of the movements and works of gaming, both in regards to contemporary high definition game, as well as in relation to the pixelated simplicity of games from eras far gone.  I am certainly within the latter camp, in that I found its visual offering quite easy to embrace and was actually worried that the film would spend far too much time clinging to video game references, yet under the direction of Rich Moore, whose involvement with work like Futurama clearly shows through, as the references, like those in the show about a nineties guy living in the future, serves as a means to an end.  Every use of Q*Bert or Pac-Man exist as a means to compile a narrative and the film, instead creates its own set of excellent fictional characters to fill the world, in fact, the one classic character who seems to get more screen time than any other appears to be Zangeif of Street Fighter fame and to be honest, in that situation doesn't everybody win?  Wreck-It Ralph is an absolutely funny film, perfectly navigating the line between children and adult humor, often coexisting within the same scenes and it does not take a detailed understanding of the history of video games to really appreciate this film, although the film certainly provides some moments of reference that are so very obscure that even the most versed of fan boys will find themselves jogging their memory of the classics.


Wreck-It Ralph focuses on the title character of Ralph (John C. Reilly) a bad guy in the world of arcade games, something he is coming to despise that it means he must live in the world of bad guy land, or in his case in a brick dump right outside of his game space.  The game he exists within is occupied by the hero Fix It Felix, Jr. (Jack McBrayer) for which the game shares the same name, and Felix, Jr. is the heralded champion of their space, considering that it is often he who saves the penthouse that Ralph destroys.  Even though the space clearly designates between good and evil, Ralph often travels outside of his game to the game center to hang out with fellow bad guys in Bad-Anon meetings, where he attempts to come to grips with his badness.  Yet, Ralph simply wants to obtain a gold medal and be appreciated and when he is not acknowledged on the thirtieth anniversary of the game he ends up "going Turbo" a phrase designated for a former racing game character who became jealous of the success of another game, leading to his moving to that game and subsequently destroying its space.  Ralph's movement through the other game spaces is in no way malicious and he simply desires to obtain an icon of success, actually winning a gold medal in the game Hero's Duty, much to the frustration of its lead character Calhoun (Jane Lynch).  Yet during his existence in the space of this game, he brings along a bug that transfers to his next game space Sugar Rush threatening to infiltrate the sugar pop world and destroy its very core, of course Ralph is oblivious to this all despite being chased by both Calhoun and Felix, Jr. at this point.  During his movement through Sugar Rush he meets up with Penelope (Sarah Silverman) a wily and bratty girl who desires to be a racer in the world, despite being a glitch within the game, something that causes her to be a point of condemnation within the world, particularly in the eyes of world's leader King Candy (Alan Tudyk).  From here on the narrative centers on both Ralph and Penelope as they push towards proving that they are certainly more than their coded identities, something that takes a considerable amount of drive and determination, as well as some confrontation with the very fabrication of the game spaces in which they exist, something they realize has been tampered with far before their arrival.  Needless to say things are returned to order, Ralph embraces his identity as a bad guy, while Penelope learns to adapt her glitch to the game.   For extra kicks, Calhoun and Felix, Jr. even get married.

One can certainly create a quarrel over the positive or negative themes spouted within this film, after all it is a Disney offering and, unlike the previously reviewed Frankenweenie, it is not afforded the artistic reigns of a Tim Burton and must adhere to certain ideologies.  With that being said, I would argue that Wreck-It Ralph is easily the most scathing critique of blind capitalist ambition since Wall-E, while also being extremely concerned with adhering to conformity, something more in line with the Disney films of yore.  I will say this about Wreck-It Ralph, overlooking the other two themes, I would instead focus on its concern for the nature of relevance and staying fresh as it relates to society.  In fact, it is as much a narrative about the woes of growing old as it is anything else.  Much of Ralph's woes come from him not receive appreciation for his job, but that could certainly double as regret for being stuck in the same place for way longer than he planed, a metaphor for the dead end job mentality perhaps, or take Felix, Jr. whose name suggests his own existence within a lineage, something that he, at first, does not outright reject, but upon his meeting of Calhoun he certainly changes his tune ever so slightly.  Even Calhoun has her issues, especially considering that she has lost her fiancé in the past to the creatures of a game which she can never leave.  Even the arcade itself plays into this metaphor (perhaps this film is more meta than I suggested) in that the aging Mr. Litwak (Ed O'Neil) clearly moves with a blasé attitude through is flailing arcade, knowing it is only a matter of time before it is financially illogical to stay open, considering that attendance has dwindled, which is quite a true statement if anybody has seen an arcade as of late, let alone one in operation.  The narrative then rests almost entirely in Penelope who desires nothing more than to exist in the moment and race, she is not only oblivious to the woes of aging or staying important, but almost transcends them, this helps contextualize her glitching as an act of almost nirvana in that she is clearly able to detach herself from the constraints of temporal and spatial existence for her benefit, and, in the end, the benefit of the entirety of the arcade.  The narrative cleverly embraces an idea of continued relevance through incorporation of the past into the present, an acknowledgement of the retro is a term the film uses.  It is clever considering that Disney created this film and at this point they seem to own everything for every persons' childhood (the metaness of this film only grows).

Key Scene:  The Bad-Anon meetings are quite hilarious and only one of the many genuine laughs within the film.

This is still in theaters and certainly benefits from being on the big screen, I suggest taking along somebody of a varied age as it helps to pick up on many of the multiple facets to this complex film, also the animated short at the beginning is quite beautiful.

29.9.12

There Is No Point. That's The Point: We Need To Talk About Kevin (2011)

Anxiety manifests itself in some unusual ways when one considers films.  In some cases it can be quite overdone and seem ridiculous, as is the case with Requiem for a Dream, in other instances it can be minimalist and almost become a character within the film, as occurs in The Following and on other occasions it can so perfectly serve the plot that it makes the film a class, check out many a Hitchcock film for an example of this.  However, in Lynne Ramsay's We Need To Talk About Kevin, anxiety envelopes the film in such a manner that one becomes almost nauseous, and at the very least exhausted, after watching the film.  Of course, it could sound as though I am reflecting negatively on the film for this, yet that is not the case.  A challenging and draining movie is to be respected, similar to the works of Von Trier or Passolini, We Need To Talk About Kevin is beautiful in its abjectness and exists as either the most unassuming horror film of all time or the darkest comedy ever created.  Needless to say, it is clear why this film fell to the wayside last year, considering that it deals with incredibly provocative  issues and is unapologetic and nonredemptive in the manner it portrays them, particularly the relationship between a mother and son that is troubled, literally from conception.  A brilliant set of performances from Tilda Swinton, John C. Reilly and Ezra Miller, along with some grating and confrontation imagery amounts to what is probably the greatest pro-choice film ever composed.  The concept of loathing burns of the screen as viewers consume, at times involuntarily, the world falling apart before their eyes.

It is clear that We Need To Talk About Kevin begins in media res, however, the events happening and those that have already occurred are less clearly defined.  We can tell that a woman named Eva (Tilda Swinton) is existing in pill-induced, alcohol consuming post-marriage life, as a result of what appears to be her son Kevin's (Ezra Miller) act, which appears to have been some sort of high school shooting.  Taking this moment in her distraught life, where she has now taken up employment at a travel agency, is juxtaposed quite jarringly with her past, one in which she was married to Franklin (John C. Reilly) after the birth of Kevin.  It is clear from the onset that things will be troublesome between Eva and Kevin, as even during his toddler years Kevin acts out against Eva, specifically harming her body and desires when nobody is around, only to act completely innocent when Franklin is around.  As Kevin grows older, his and Eva's relationship splinters more and more, eventually to the point where, in what might be jealously, Kevin leaves a cleaning chemical out to cause his younger sister to burn her eye.  Eva, despite her disdain, attempts to formulate some degree of a relationship with Kevin who continually belittles her every instance in which she may find success.  After all but giving up, Eva makes one last suggestion about going on a trip, which Kevin dances around committing to, only to go about killing the next day.  Throughout the film Eva constantly meets with Kevin in a juvenile prison where he demeans and dismisses her, up until the films closing scene in which Eva visits Kevin prior to his transfer to an adult prison and it is at this moment that Kevin admits for the first time to being lost, which results in a hug of comfort from Eva, perhaps the first genuine moment of bonding between the two throughout the whole film's narrative.

I only half-heartedly meant the bit about it being a wholly pro-choice movie, an analysis of that would be foolish and ungrounded.  Instead, I would like to consider this film as a perfect example of how one should depict and philosophically approach violence and its acts in film.  At no point does this film glorify or justify Kevin's actions, yet at the same time it does not condemn them.  It clearly draws a line of points which could elucidate particularly why Kevin acts out, yet it also helps to explain Eva's innocence in the situation, a claim that parents victims seem to disagree with adamantly, as happens up her being hit randomly by a woman in the street.  In fact, one could make the argument that Ramsay's film draws greater concern to the family structure of contemporary America as a place of latent violence.  The silences and back room dealings that happen within even the seemingly happiest and well-to-do families only lays in wait for something tragic.  Life, according to the world of We Need To Talk About Kevin, is usually shitty and there is no explanation as to why, yet it is pointless to dwell on the past no matter how dismal the present may be, simply put, there is no going back to a time before.  As Eva's constant scrubbing of red off her porch suggests, some stains cannot be removed, as such, you must accept getting use to their presence.

Key Scene: Tilda, Shopping Cart, Christmas Music, Eggs.

This is with little doubt one of the hidden gems of 2011, along side House of Pleasures and Take Shelter, it is deserved of acknowledgement when one reconsiders the best films of last year.  Rent it and see what I mean.

17.4.12

It's Like A Crippled Tree Reaching For Heaven: Cyrus (2010)

When I engage with independent films that use handheld camera work and mumble dialogue, I become weary.  Usually, it is a sign of a mumblecorp film that will either deliver something brilliantly profound, as is the case with Tiny Furniture, or miss the mark completely and come off as distantly pretentious, as is the case with Dance Party, U.S.A.  Cyrus, while possessing far more notable actors than either of the previously mentioned films provides an air of mumblecorp that makes seeing Jonah Hill and Marisa Tomei seem humanly close.  It is a film about interactions done so minimally and believably that it is hard not to mistake the work for something of a documentary.  Directors and writers Mark and Jay Duplass provide a heartfelt piece of film that is clearly made with some distant memory in mind, suggesting that those viewing are being allowed a glimpse into a persons dearest thoughts, without effectively invading the narrative with judgment.  Cyrus is so well scripted, filmed and directed that you are lost when it ends, because as a viewer you attach yourself to its characters and follow them through their spells of failure and success, as one man learns to grow up while another learns to be young.


Cyrus follows John, played with clear ease by John C. Reilly, as he deals with the rather shitty state of his life.  John is a professional film editor, whose best friend is his ex-wife Jamie (Catherine Keener) and latches on to his comfort with her despite the clear disdain of Jamie's new fiance Tim (Matt Walsh).  As a gesture of both kindness and desperation, Tim and Jamie force John to tag along to a party with the hopes that he will meet someone new there and his irregular attachment with Jamie will end.  It appears as though the part will be as bust as John quickly becomes intoxicated off Red Bull and Vodka and finds himself peeing in the bushes outside the party.  It is at this point that he meets Molly (Marisa Tomei) a sultry woman who displays clear interest in John.  After a night of intimacy, John is infatuated with Molly, but despite her clear interest in him, she is incredibly evasive.  Desiring to make things work with Molly, John follows her home one evening only to pass out across the street.  When he awakes, it is the morning and he approaches the house with the hopes of talking to her.  Instead, John is approached by Cyrus (Jonah Hill) the unusually old son of Molly.  Cyrus is incredibly welcoming to John and shares his house and music with John and things seem to be going well until Molly returns and is incredibly distraught to discover John waiting.  The relationship between Cyrus and Molly becomes awkward quite quickly as it is apparent that there is an unhealthy attachment between the mother and son.  John attempts to play it cool to the entire situation, but Cyrus plots to separate him from his mother and for most of the remaining narrative, he is successful at causing the two to end their relationship, only after John has attacked Cyrus and ruined his former wife's wedding.  However, in a moment of recognition to his own mother's sadness, Cyrus returns to apologize to John and the two end their disputes.  Cyrus removes himself as a divisive force and John and Molly finally engage in their clearly promising future.

I find one of the best features of the mumblecorp genre to be its honest approach to unusual narratives.  Having read my fair share of commentaries on suppressed narratives, it is great to see a film like Cyrus.  While it is clearly concerned with only well to do white individuals they are nonetheless a divergent narrative.  Cyrus is a young man with obvious mental problems that are overlooked by current psychiatric means.  John is a divorced male who is struggling to approach life, despite being clearly out of the loop.  He has an ex-wife that he is still close with, which posits a rather unusual and unconventional commentary on the status of marriage, and while it is clear that Tim is uncomfortable with their interactions, he realizes it would be selfish and oppressive to ask them to cease.  It is seemingly irrelevant and simply a means to add characters to the plot, but it is likely that the directors realized their social statement upon release.  The film also portrays a single mother in an unusual light.  Molly is clearly a woman struggling with little to no success to deal with her trouble son.  While it is obvious that she takes her duty very seriously and champions her cause quite respectably the film makes not intentions to glorify her.  In fact, the film approaches Molly in a very critical manner making it quite clear that she is oblivious to many of the events occurring in her own life.  In a sense, Cyrus is a film that concerns itself with highlighting unusual situations and drawing viewers into accepting that such possibilities occur, however, it is careful not to over idolize the quirky situation and instead approaches it quite honestly and with much criticism, hearkening back to my previous statement of the film existing as more of a documentary than actual narrative piece.  A rare outcome in contemporary filmmaking.

Cyrus is a solid film that is well worth viewing.  However, unless you are particularly keen on independent cinema it is a rental only.