Better Off Not Knowing

Knowing-Nicholas Cage, Rose Byrne


MAJOR SPOILER ALERT!



SEE.

First, let's talk about our "hero." Nicholas Cage-astrophysicist. 'Nuf said. No really. It's not the first time we've seen Mr. Cage cast in the role of scientist with awe-inspiring genius. C'mon. You remember The Rock. Well, maybe you don't. But you should remember Nicholas Cage playing chemical weapons specialist, Dr. Stanley Goodspeed. What is it about Nicholas Cage that generates such confidence in his ability to convey on-screen superintelligence among casting agents? Hell if I know. When I listen to him spouting off technical scientific jargon, I'm not inspired to confidence. I don't think, "Wow, this guy really knows what he's talking about!" Nope. Wrongfully convicted military man trapped with a bunch of escaped convicts. Regular Joe who makes a deal with the devil and becomes a "Ghost Rider." I'll even buy a magician who possesses the power to see the future. But "astrophysicist?" Sorry, my puny little brain simply cannot reconcile Nicolas Cage with that role. Nothing to do with the man's actual i.q. so much as the on-screen persona he has consistently projected over the years. Tell me I'm wrong. Go ahead. Make my day.





But on the upside, if you're looking for a reason to go suicidal, then this movie is for you. 'Cause when all hope is lost and you expect a hero to rise up and save the day through some farfetched loophole in quantum physics theory, well that's just too bad. Not gonna happen. Knowing seeks to answer the question of whether random, uncontrollable s**t just happens or whether there's rhyme and reason in the universe. You know where this one's going. Solvable patterns exist in the movie ,but they're not particularly helpful in saving the planet. Nope. It's just the end of everything. (Well, almost everything. I won't spoil that part.)








Look, we all go to these strange-patterns-in-the-universe movies for the same reason. (No. Not to see what Nic Cage is doing with his hair these days.) We go to find meaning. Deep down in the irrational recesses of our hearts and minds, we hope that somewhere out there, there is a plausible explanation for whatever troubles us- 9/11, strange glowing lights in the night sky, what have you. Despite a fairly interesting path to the endgame, this figure-out-the-clever patterns movie leaves a fairly disappointing taste in the brain. This is primarily because we human beings have a fairly standard set of go to guys when all hope is lost-superheroes, aliens and Bruce Willis. Well, Bruce Willis ain't in this movie, and nobody's wearing a latex suit. (That leaves us one option. I'll leave it to your imagination to decide how that plays out.) In the end, it turns out we're just better off not knowing.





EAT.





The end of the world is upon us, who's gonna eat? Well, I have good news. Vegetarians live. Oh, yeah. The whole kid turning into a vegetarian at the beginning of the movie was not lost on me. You know what I have to say to that not so subtle dig at carnivores-bring on the burgers! I'm gonna grill my animal killing ass off to celebrate the char-broiling of the planet earth. I mean really. If we're all going to die-who's going to count my cholesterol. Oh, and since nobody's going to collect payment, I'm going to get the biggest, baddest grill on the soon-to-be-incinerated planet. For the last best grilling recipes you'll ever have on this earth, visit http://www.grilling-recipes.com/ .



SHOP.





Really? What are you gonna buy? The earth is about to be incinerated by a humongous solar flare. You want more sunscreen?! What I suggest is that we gather the smartest people in the world and make them watch The Core. If we build a lot of deep core penetrating machines like they built in The Core, we can dig down deep enough to escape the radiation. What we do after that is anybody's guess. After all the entire world's gonna burn. What are we gonna eat down in the earth's core? Nevermind. Just get the sunblock and a front row seat to Armageddon.

Sunshine Cleaning-Amy Adams, Emily Blount, Alan Arkin



SEE.



I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only unemployed person in the theater thinking, "Crime scene cleanup company! That's not a bad idea. I've seen enough blood and guts on the big screen to be able to hack it in real life. Where can I get used van with a CB in it and a Hazmat suit?" Sign me up. You know, I liked this movie, but a friend of mine found the script lacking. That's what we say when we can't pinpoint exactly what it is that prevents our hearts from skipping. What's not to love, you say? The poignant story of a single mom with a "lost-her-way" sister, a "can't-deliver-the-goods" father, a slightly unusually child, a deep hole where her mom-who-committed-suicide used to be, a not-so-good-for-her soul relationship with a married man and an elusive dream about acquiring a real estate license. Sure seems like it has all the fixings of a successful little indie film. What it lacks is heart.




Heart? There's no room in movies for that. That's something better left for touching Hallmark Channel movies. Look. Sunshine Cleaners makes all the right moves on paper. I liked watching it. In the end, as is often my problem, I was not connected enough with the characters to really care. I like all the actors. Liking actors just isn't enough. I need my movie moment. You know the one. For example, the tensely dramatic moment that sheds light on how the family lost it's way after Mom committed suicide. Or, the moment where little miss can't-do-anything-right, tosses her big sister's single motherhood in her face (an oddly lacking point in this movie.) That moment when our perpetual Grandpa of the crazy ideas almost kills his grandkid by having him eat bad shrimp. Or...I could go on. I'm talking about generating a connection with the characters-whether it's liking them or hating them or identifying completely with their predicament. It's why we go to the movies. Connection and catharsis.


If we, the audience, don't get to release our own life angst at some point during the movie, well then, we're gonna unleash on the film itself. Spoiler alert. I'm all for owning your own business. Yippee for her. Who cares about the real estate license? You've found your calling cleaning up blood and body remains. You help people. Except we really only see you help one person and really, you weren't all that helpful. (Oh, unless we count your sister telling a woman that her mother is dead. Her mother whom she hadn't had contact with because mom was a lousy drunk. Oops. Nice helping hand there.) I hate the typical movie moments as much as the next guy but there's a reason they sometimes work. They help us get to the resolution. I never saw the moment when (Amy Adams) realizes that this business is more than a way to make more money. I know where it should have been, but it really wasn't there. You know why? 'Cause everybody in this movie is pretty nice (with the exception of the wife who's being cheated on.) There's really no one to hate. So there's no one to tell off. No one to tell off, no clear cut moving forward moment for our main character. Even breaking up with her married boyfriend is quiet and uneventful . How is that possible?




Why do we need the big movie moments? So we know we're alive. If you were faced with the absolute disintegration of the one thing your good at because of something your sister did and your father gave up the last home he knew (the place where his wife/your mother killed herself) so you could get back on your feet, well.... I think that deserves some big movie moment music accompanied by some acknowledgement on Dad's part about how this could begin to make up for his failures. Oh, and also, some acknowledgement of the fact that you have freakin' Alan Arkin playing the dad, and you should give him something to play for cryin' out loud! So many places where I needed to shed my angst and I was left holding...my angst. That's no way to make an indie movie. Oh, and by the way, where is little sis going at the end of the movie? I know, I know. Too pat. Too neatly wrapped that answer. She never expressed any interest in anything. Ever. Other than trying to alert that poor chick hat her mother was dead. This is what I'm talking about. How can I care about her if I don't know what her dreams are? At the end of the movie, I don't care if she's about to drive off a cliff. I know she misses her mom. I don't know how that motivates her to leave town exactly. If we don't know, we can't fell happy or sad for her. All we can do is wonder how she's gonna pay to gas up that giant Cadillac on this little road trip.



EAT.



Shrimp. I could explain, but all I'll say is, "Don't buy raw shrimp from a street vendor, and in the name of all that's holy, don't store it in your bathtub."



SHOP.




Industrial strength cleaning supplies. Well, if you're gonna get squeaky clean, you might as well be green about it so mop up the offerings of http://www.all-greenjanitorialproducts.com/. And, no, you're not gonna start up your own crime scene cleanup unit. That requires OSHA certification and EPA training. Might as well let the professionals do it. Oh, alright, if you insist. Just remember, this ain't CSI They'll already be gone. Get your online blood and gore training at http://www.cts-decon-training-academy.com/. Don't forget the gloves.

Duplicity-Julia Roberts, Clive Owen





SEE.





Timelines can be tricky. Creative editing meant to make a film more interesting by taking the audience out of a normal linear framework can be wonderfully freeing. Say, for example, as used in Pulp Fiction. On the other hand, nonlinear editing that takes us from 5 years ago to 3 days ago in seemingly no particular order can be perplexing to say the least. In Duplicity, the trick is remembering that the audience is being played just like everybody in the film. Are (Claire) Julia Roberts and Ray (Clive Owen) really working together, or are they double-crossing each other? When did they decide to work together? When did they decide to pull off this scheme? Yes, folks, you're supposed to be confused about this story. I know, you just wanted to go watch a fun movie about corporate espionage starring two attractive actors. All this thinking and timelining...just spoils the buttered popcorn and cold soda.








Here's the thing. It's all been done before. It's really hard to surprise the audience. We bore easily. Filmmakers have to try so hard to engage us. So now, instead of having a story unfold before our eyes, we actually have to bring a chart and graph into the theater to make heads or tails of when certain events occurred; who said what to whom when; and what piece of the puzzle is missing. It's harder than getting into law school. It's our own fault. You asked for complex, interesting stories. That's too bad 'cause what you're actually going to get is just more convoluted storytelling. The song remains the same. It's just played backwards and upside down.





Personally, I'm not bothered by being a little confused. It lets me know I'm alive. And, frankly, I'm used to it by now. Up to a point. 3 days earlier. 10 days earlier. 3 months earlier. 2 years earlier. 5 years earlier. Really? It's a two hour movie. Maybe we should agree to consolidate our timeline a little in the interest of audience sanity. I can barely remember character names, nevermind, whether what I'm watching now occurred before or after the last twelve flashbacks. If the time comes when the movie audience has to plug into a computer program or an Iphone application just to follow along, I say we all just go back to doing it the old-fashioned way-read a book.





EAT.







Frozen pizza. Why, you ask? Apparently a lot of research goes into the frozen pizza market. Or else, the writer of Duplicity is pulling a fast one on me. The frozen pizza industry that Ray and Claire consider infiltrating provides comically serious dialogue about the theft of trade pizza secrets. Trade pizza secrets? Really? What do I know? Well, what I know is that all the brain power required in following this story sure made me hungry. Frozen pizza it is! Don't just dive in without proper frozen pizza research. After all, these companies would kill to sell frozen pizza to you. Review Good Housekeeping's frozen pizza ratings at http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/product-testing/reviews-tests/food-beverages/frozen-pizza-1102. Some poor bastard spent the best years of his life trying to make a frozen pizza that you'll eat. Let's take this seriously, people!











SHOP.






For reasons I'm too stupid to understand, Claire runs through the competition's office building looking for a fax machine so she can send the secret formula out to her bosses and complete the espionage. I'm not questioning this plot point per se. Having viewed and charted the entire movie, I understand the purpose these scenes served. What I don't understand is a computer "genius" who wouldn't just say, "Hey. Take a picture of the formula on your (fill in the PDA of your choice) and e-fax it or e-mail it or e-whatever it to us." Seems simple enough. If your computer genius seems stuck in a fax rut, direct him or her to http://www.myfax.com/wireless_faxing.asp?bt=c. 'Cause, seriously, nobody believes the run for the fax machine in this day and age.

I like my heroes neutered.

The Watchmen-Billy Crudup, Matthew Goode, Patrick Wilson, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Malin Akerman


Director-Zack Snyder





SEE.







I was working on a studio lot which premiered this movie early. After the screening, several people wandered around the lot dazed. Kind of like they'd been mugged, in fact. "What's wrong?" I asked pretending to care. Only one man could compose himself enough to actually speak. He whispered, "Disturbing male nudity." He scurried away. What in the name of all that's holy is he talking about? First of all, everyone in Hollywood knows that the MPAA won't allow full frontal male nudity. Not if you want a rating that will allow your film to be seen by anyone outside of France and Denmark that is. Good Lord. Now I'm going to have to see this film just to find out what he is talking about. Let me clear. I'm not seeing this movie because I want to. Not seeing this movie because I really loved 300 (even though I really did.) Not even seeing this movie as my duty because I need to have a movie to blog about.





Disturbing male nudity. C'mon. You know you have to go when somebody says that phrase to you. Nobody is disturbed by violence, rape, death or language but the world will burn to ashes if the male form is seen in it's entirety on the big screen. You know you've always wondered how the Incredible Hulk hides his incredible...ness when he bulks up. Amazing movie magic, of course. He clothes magically grow to cover him and protect us from his incredible...ness. What, I thought, could these guys have done in this movie that would so freak out an innocent moviegoer? Well, as it turns out, when you are a blue irradiated man, clothing is an item you eschew. His preferred work wardrobe is au naturel. And this bothers no one. Not his coworkers. Not his girlfriend. Not his old superhero buddies. Nope. Everyone is perfectly comfortable seeing him in the buff. Of course, they always look him in the eye. They respect him. Why should anything bother them? After all, he's blue. He's the blue guy. Blue is the most disturbing thing about him. Not his hippy nudist colony philosophy.







Um, the filmmaker, being male and, therefore, of delicate ego with regard to disturbing male nudity, did thoughtfully cover blue guy's incredible...ness when blue guy grew to 100 times his normal size. This touch probably kept the bulk of Mr. Snyder's male viewers from fleeing the theater mortified and humiliated. Only the bulk, that is. The rest of his male audience were so consumed with wondering where you'd even get a Speedo that size if you needed one that eventually they ran out screaming, "My eyes! My eyes!" Ah, well. Creative license I suppose. Realism is what you wanted, realism you shall have a bounty of. Enjoy.





By the by. This ain't Spiderman. If the warning about disturbing male nudity didn't scare you, let me state with certainty, this ain't for kids. There's is some good sex up in here. Yeah, you heard me. Blue guy can split himself into several different guys. Let your imagination run wild there. He's not the only one having a good time either. Oh, sorry. You probably wanted to know about the story. I'll have to get back to you. Between the questionable timeline, complicated politics and conspiracy theory, never mind blue guy, I was overwhelmed. Maybe you should just read the graphic novels. (There I go with that reading nonsense again.) I would be remiss if I did not note two, nay three great things about this movie. Nice setup at the beginning. I love a good fight scene. Beautiful to look at. (And I don't just mean blue guy who was actually weird to look at.) And Jackie Earle Haley. I'll leave that for you to figure out if you're brave enough.





EAT.







What do superheroes eat? No really. I mean the heroes in this movie are smart, fast, agile and hella strong. Only blue guy has a specific scientific accident linked to his power. The rest of them just seem to eat right, take their vitamins and know how to reload their weapons quickly. Don't ask me. I just saw the movie. I don't know the individual history of all the characters (though I'm sure somebody does.) Maybe it does pay to eat your spinach. Check out the superheroes' guide to eating at http://health.ninemsn.com.au/article.aspx?id=695299. Who knew?





SHOP.







Speedo. Boy, you know it's true. Sure, Michael Phelps may have renewed interest in the swimwear line with the world's fastest swimsuit but, we all know when we think of speedo, we think of one thing. Terror at the beach. Now we can think of something else as well. Giant blue guy in a supersized speedo. Go ahead. Check out the sizing if you dare. We'll be watching for you at http://www.speedo.com/.

Heed the Signs.

The Edge of Love-Keira Knightley, Sienna Miller, Cillian Murphy, Matthew Rhys



SEE?





There were a couple of warning signs about this film which I carelessly, nay, cockily ignored. First, LA Times and NPR film critic, Kenneth Turan, told me not to go. Actually, he told hundreds of people not to go. On the air. Maybe, that's not really a sign as much as a fact. Mr. Turan railed against The Edge of Love with the venom of man advising you against becoming a Nazi or purchasing a $5 cup of coffee when you can make it yourself at home. Oh, yeah, he seemed put upon to be sure. Mr. Turan complained that the actors were ridiculously beautiful and, yet, played unlikable characters. C'mon, Kenneth! It's a period piece about Welsh poet Dylan Thomas starring Keira Knightley and Sienna Miller. Of course, I'm going to hate everybody. I'm going to hate their too perfect wardrobe, adorable hair, picture perfect makeup and their overlit, overlingering closeups, too. Why don't you go watch some Danish film, Kenneth, and leave this to the professionals? I was, perhaps, too hasty in my dismissal of Kenneth's ire.







My second warning sign, as it were, was the movie marquee itself. (Here I'll boldly gloss over the fact that The Edge of Love appears to be playing at only one theater in the entirety of Los Angeles.) On the marquee, under the title of this movie, some clever sign arranger had chosen to describe the movie thusly-"Boy-o up to no good-o" and "The Precipice of Amorousness." I'll grant you I don't go this theater much so maybe this mocking style is how they choose to advertise all of their movies. Still, it seems a bit defeatist. After all, you want people to come in and pay to see the movie before they decide it's not worth it. One would think a theater owner wouldn't want the audience to give up on the movie as they drive by the theater. Maybe it's just me again.





But hey, I'm no quitter. I persevere. Mostly because I've already driven an hour through traffic to get the only theater in L.A. showing this movie. It's not like I can call up the few westsiders I know and invite myself over 'cause I chickened out of seeing a movie. ("There were just too many bad signs." "Can't we just go out for one drink? I know it's two in the afternoon.") No, no, no. I'm going to see this one through to the bitter end. And I do mean bitter. It's time to man up. Hell, I've see Underworld III, how bad can this be?





First, a lesson in the jargon of moviewatching. Melodrama: "A drama, such as a play, film or television program, characterized by exaggerated emotions, stereotypical characters and interpersonal conflicts (answers.com)." Yepper. That is what Kenneth Turan termed this film. I had no idea what he was talking about. Every movie seems to have exaggerated emotions, stereotypical characters and interpersonal conflicts to me. To me what distinguishes this movie from, say, Atonement, is one thing and one thing only-I actually cared a little about what happened to the characters in Atonement. It's an odd thing. Having a character tell another character that they are soulmates is just not quite the same as seeing that fact born out on the screen before your eyes. Characters crying or yelling or laughing will mean nothing to me if I don't know enough about them to understand why they are crying or yelling or laughing. Maybe everybody else in the world knows the story of Dylan Thomas and his tangled loves, but I don't. (Forgive me for being an American who dislikes poetry.) So, writer-man, tell me a story. Give me a framework for what I'm seeing. Remember when movies had a beginning, a middle and an end. Director-guy, don't splice together a bunch of poetry readings and characters telling me facts instead of showing me their lives. Don't deliver an expensive collection of staged tableaus dotted with artsy transition shots (creepy eyes overlaying the screen anyone?). And if you are going to do that, don't call it a art film. Please. That's just an excuse for not writing a complete historical script. Whatever I was supposed to learn from watching this movie was erased because I spent all my time trying to figure out what so charmed all of these people about each other in the first place. Maybe if I knew that upfront, then this melodrama would seem more dramatic and less cacophonous.





EAT.


Cigarettes and whiskey. Never ceases to amaze me how these two items remain readily available to people who have no discernible income. Of course, if you lived in an asbestos lined house on the ocean in Wales or in London during the blitzkrieg, I'd imagine food would be the last of your concerns. Cirrhosis might seem a welcome relief. Emphysema, a blessing. Bring on the cancersticks in a finely wrapped package! Don't forget the matches.





SHOP.


Well, it's happened. I actually have to turn to reading to find something out about a character (excuse me, real person) in a movie. I hate that. Anyway try Dylan Thomas:The Biography by Paul Ferris and Leftover Life to Kill by Caitlin Thomas. You might as well learn something about the man. The film certainly won't help much.

Breaking the Bank.

The International-Clive Owen, Naomi Watts


SEE?







I'm not a complicated person. I like a simple plot, a simple premise, simple actions, a simple resolution. Simple, simple, simple. The International seems on it's surface to be a simple movie. There is a big, bad bank doing big, bad things to people via a big, bad villain. Our hero, played by Clive Owen, must find evidence of said big bad villainy and ensure that the big, bad villains are duly punished. Let the simplicity commence! Guns blazing, fists fighting, people running, our heroes getting hit by cars and trucks. Let the good times roll. Alas, this movie is not so simple. This is bad news for simple minds like mine. The plot=something to do with banks making weapons deals to create wars so they can control the debts of nations and wield big, bad villain-like power. Evil master plan. You know the drill. It's like a James Bond movie with a financial premise that even Ben Bernanke couldn't follow. Okay, maybe it wasn't that convoluted. Maybe I was just so unbelievably bored that I couldn't process that much information. Talk, talk, talk, talk. Also, big bad villain guy is not at all scary. You know my rule-villains should be really ornery. My grandma could take this guy, and she's not with us anymore. Capiche?



I have another issue. (Hard to believe, I know.) The chick half of this flick confuses me. Naomi Watts! What is your function in this movie? You're not playing a damsel in distress. You're really not a love interest because you're not romantically involved with Clive's character. You can't be the hero, because you're not as tall as Clive Owen. Could you actually be playing a competent, intellectual female character who is trying to do her job and not just be the sexual sidekick? We don't do that in Hollywood! No wonder it's called The International.







Apparently, Europeans don't read the same books on how to make a blockbuster that we here in Hollywood skim through. Figures. No American lead actors. Only one American location (the quintessential American location-New York City.) Why am I not surprised? You know, this film strikes me as an poor excuse to travel to Berlin (who shoots in Berlin, anyway?) and Milan. The primary filming in New York involves destroying the Guggenheim museum on such a catastrophic level that it was probably a set built in Berlin. Gee. I wish I could create some excuse to travel the world and call it work. I guess there's always travel writing.





EAT.





German food and beer, of course! You just don't see that many movies shot in Berlin. Or at least, if they are shot there, no one will cop to it. But c'mon, who doesn't like weinerschnitzel? Oh, wait, apparently that's from Vienna. Um, how about the beer? German beer it is! Belly up to http://www.german-breweries.com/. They'll take you through all the German brews and brewhauses (or however, you say brewhouse in German.) You can peruse beer types and get addresses (hope you can read German 'cause clicking on certain breweries did not give me bilingual options.) You can even purchase the comprehensive guide to carry with you. If beer just ain't enough to sustain you, visit http://www.travelsthroughgermany.com/ for all the travel information on Germany your heart desires. Lord knows, if you worked on this movie, travel information was your top concern.





SHOP.








International travel supplies. Seriously. All the places these people had to go?! You'd better be able to navigate airports like the back of your hand. Try http://www.magellans.com/ for all your travel needs. If you're going after a worldwide banking conspiracy, you'd better be able to pack efficiently. And you'd better be packing good drugs. These people get hit by cars more than your average roadkill. And they walk away. Right. They must be taking the good stuff. Muscle relaxers and Ibuprofen 600 recommended by http://www.answers.yahoo.com/ (search under car crash pain) for those unexpected times that you get hit by a moving vehicle.