Film #84: Crazy, Stupid, Love (2011)

Crazy, Stupid, Love.

Rating: 4/5

“I’m going to help you rediscover your manhood. Do you have any idea where you could have lost it?”

2011 was a great year for Ryan Gosling, propelling him to stardom and making him one of the most desirable men on the planet. The success of Drive brought him to more popular critical acclaim – his performances in Lars and the Real Girl and Half Nelson had previously garnered attention (not to mention an Oscar nomination), but it wasn’t until 2011 that he really became a household name. This is largely due to Crazy, Stupid, Love, where his ridiculously toned physique and smooth-talking charm took centre stage. From his rock-star entrance, a slow-motion, lingering shot exuding sex appeal and confidence, to the indulgent topless shots (“Seriously? It’s like you’re Photoshopped,” one of the characters proclaims), his role seems specifically tailored to make him a heart-throb – and it certainly worked, shattering his previous indie label. Meanwhile, for all the critics who love to claim that he only plays one role – the silent, stoic, sensitive type – this film immediately disproves their argument. Here, he is Jacob, a womanising playboy, abusing his hotness to pick up countless women at bars; a million miles away from the awkward sweetness of Lars or the almost mute lead in Only God Forgives. Yet Crazy, Stupid, Love isn’t really his story – or at least, he’s just part of a much larger spiderweb of relationships, largely centred around the recent disintegration of a long marriage.

The film opens with a declaration at a restaurant; Cal (Steve Carell) and his wife Emily (Julianne Moore) are obviously stuck in a rut, but her sudden admission that she wants a divorce comes as a surprise to the rather downtrodden Cal. This sudden life change sees Cal take refuge in a hip bar, where he tells anyone who’s listening (and a bunch of people who aren’t) about David Lindhagen (Kevin Bacon), the man who “cuckholded” him by sleeping with Emily. Returning night after night, eventually Jacob (Gosling) can stand it no longer, and decides to take the hapless Cal under his wing, giving him a manly makeover and training him in the ways of promiscuity. Meanwhile, Hannah (Emma Stone) is hoping to get engaged to a sap, having already becoming probably the only female to have ever resisted Jacob’s lines, while Cal’s fourteen year old son, a hopeless romantic, is desperately trying to make his babysitter (Analeigh Tipton, a former runner up in America’s Next Top Model, though don’t let that put you off) fall in love with him – what he doesn’t realise is that she harbours a secret crush on Cal. The film follows this great ensemble through the muddy waters of their various relationships, presenting each development with a suaveness and lightness of touch that transforms what could be a rather generic, silly film into something quite clever, and often very astute.

Carell is great, toning down his performance from, say, The Forty Year Old Virgin and making Cal’s plight both believable and sympathetic. Indeed, the cast is great in general, and are fully supported by the film’s style and script. Writer Dan Fogelman’s dialogue is sharp, funny, and often very sweet, while the progression of the story throws in some unexpected twists and turns, and his understanding of the various dynamics is spot on. Even the childish romance, usually something that turns my stomach and can frequently seem wildly inappropriate when done wrong (a great example of what not to do is Love, Actually) works, primarily because having a crush at fourteen is not unrealistic, and the adults generally do not take it seriously. Of course, there are clichés: it’s inevitable that Jacob should fall for Hannah, considering her initial refusal to be taken in by his charm, for example. Yet whenever it threatens to veer towards generic conclusions, something will happen to let the viewers know that it is fully aware of the conventions (following a unfortunate incident at a parent-teacher meeting, as Cal stands in the car park having just argued with Emily, the sudden downpour causes him to sigh and resignedly acknowledge, “what a cliché”).

While initially Crazy, Stupid, Love seems more like a smart romantic drama with some comedy, as it progresses it wears its comedy heart on its sleeve far more. Events culminate in one of the funniest scenes I’ve seen for years – ridiculous, inevitable, yet completely out of the blue – and, even after repeat viewings, it remains just as hilarious. Fogelman’s script captures, in both a very honest and funny way, a diverse selection of very believable relationships – platonic, old, new, inappropriate, doomed, destined – and unites them all through the Weaver family. Individually, the stories are familiar, but brought together they work seamlessly to create something new, that is always engaging and thoroughly likeable. Gosling’s charisma and, yes, let’s be honest, his body are merely an added bonus.


Cinema Lottery #9

cinema 9 only god forgives

Only God Forgives
Release date: 2 August 2013
Rating: 4.5/5

It’s interesting that, since Drive, there have been two Ryan Gosling films that were initially dismissed as Drive Part 2, yet both, despite their marketing, emerged as entirely different films. The Place Beyond the Pines, released earlier this year, was the first and more tenuously connected; Only God Forgives is the second. Of the two, it is the latter that is truly divisive. Audiences walked out en masse in Cannes, its level of violence and lack of characterisation has been met with claims of vapid pretentiousness – a case of style over substance, perhaps. And it’s true that director Nicholas Winding Refn, along with cinematographer Larry Smith, have chosen to concentrate on style but, really, is there anything wrong with that?

Curiously, despite the apparent superficiality, other reviews have adopted an entirely different approach to Only God Forgives’ simple plot (so simple and sparse, in fact, that to go into any more detail than to say it’s a classic revenge story would be to spoil it). Empire claims the entire narrative is like a fevered dream, with Vithaya Pansringarm as an Angel of Vengeance, a supernatural being “summoned from Julian’s subconscious.” Perhaps he is; passages of the film are undeniably dreamlike – even hallucinatory. Julian (Gosling) emerges as a passive observer, only capable of action in his imagination, whether it’s finally touching his prostitute girlfriend or committing acts of violence. He’s barely a person at all, and Gosling barely acts, although there remains something captivating about his blank visage. He is tortured, tormented, and plenty could be (and no doubt will be) written about his Oedipus complex; he’s also a less-than-subtle, though undoubtedly effective, example of a man desperately trying to prove (validate?) his masculinity – just consider that awkward lunch date with his girlfriend and his icy, profane bitch of a mother (Kristin Scott Thomas). Yet how much of it is a dream remains up for debate: Pansringarm’s Chang is, for me, less a supernatural being than a man with strict beliefs about revenge, retaliation, and retribution – he’s the embodiment of the concept of an eye for an eye (and, in one particularly harrowing scene, that eye is literal).

As is to be expected, visually Only God Forgives is a thing of morbid beauty. Bangkok is displayed like a neo-noir, the seediness and sleaziness of the city reflected in neon lighting, sumptuously ornate patterns, and deep reds contrasting with the blackest of shadows. It’s haunting and mesmerising – every scene, and every moment within every scene feels deliberate and controlled. The imagery works perfectly with Cliff Martinez’ pulsating score, which often dominates the soundtrack, adding to the dreaminess of scenes by silencing the film’s limited dialogue. It is alternately eerie, soothing, exciting, or unpleasantly loud; in an entirely stylised world, the relationship between the visuals and the score is more important than words uttered by the characters.

No doubt there will be some that hate Only God Forgives, that wanted (and simultaneously didn’t want) Drive Part 2. This is not that film. Winding Refn has created a piece of abstract art; uncompromising, brutal, limited in characterisation and lush in visual style. It’s slow – so slow, in fact, that scenes look more like tableaux than moving images – and narratively sparse, but for those willing to give it a chance, it’s a rare spectacle, both beautiful and horrific in equal measures.

Red 2
Release date: 2 August 2013
Rating: 2.5/5

Much like its predecessor, Red 2 is entertaining but strangely forgettable; with the exception of Helen Mirren’s ex-MI6 agent Victoria, there is almost nothing memorable about it. Following directly from Red, this film sees Bruce Willis’ now-retired CIA agent embracing domesticity, much to the disappointment of his younger girlfriend Sarah (Mary-Louise Parker) but, inevitably, he’s forced to resume his former life in an attempt to clear his name and stop a deadly bomb. Brian Cox (in a small cameo), Catherine Zeta Jones, and Anthony Hopkins join the core cast and they, along with John Malkovich and Mirren (who even lampoons herself, infiltrating a mental institute by claiming she’s the queen), do appear to be having lots of fun, but it’s all rather messy and convoluted. Most problematically, Willis and Parker are the least interesting or engaging characters – Willis appears to barely even be trying any more, relying instead on his now trademark wry smile and deadpan expressions to carry his performance.

Filled with bloodless action and fairly standard intrigue, Red 2 acknowledges its graphic novel origins – there are car chases, daft set pieces, the occasional comic book insert and, despite the potential genocide, a constant lack of real tension or danger. As the action flits from Paris, to London, to Moscow, its quick pace and sometimes frantic editing are a distraction from the cluttered narrative, but it never becomes anything more than mediocre.

The Smurfs 2
Release date: 31 July 2013
Rating: 1/5

There’s little to enjoy or appreciate about The Smurfs 2, and it’s difficult to imagine anyone older than five even wanting to see this dire, juvenile piece of tripe. Its generic narrative, in which evil wizard Gargamel (buck-toothed, hunchbacked, big-nosed Hank Azaria) is still trying to destroy the peaceful Smurfs, is terrible and, despite its simplicity, is given a whopping 105 minutes to reach its inevitable conclusion; after twenty minutes I remembered this is supposed to be a comedy (albeit on the level of bad spoofs and fart jokes); after an hour I started to nod off out of sheer boredom.

The Smurfs themselves are a limited selection of stereotypes – Grumpy, Clumsy, Vanity, Brainy, Passive Aggressive (!), etc – who are all infatuated with equally stereotypical Smurfette (Katy Perry). After a surprise birthday goes awry, the only female in Smurfsville (or whatever it’s called) ends up in the clutches of Gargamel, who has become a world famous magician due to his wondrous talents and slapstick inteptitude. Enter Neil Patrick Harris and his cutsie wife Grace who, along with step-dad Brendan Gleeson (who at least has the wherewithal to be transformed into a duck for some of the running time, thus limiting his screen-time and, by default, the indignity of appearing in the film), must save the day for all Smurfkind, and learn a valuable lesson in the process. There are some bizarre interludes that, presumably, are intended to entertain the parents dragged to this dreck, but they are so desperately jammed in that they just irritate. It’s also just plain weird when, for example, the Smurfs accidentally interrupt a photoshoot involving, inexplicably, pregnant brides. Meanwhile, the CGI is frequently ropey – Gargamel’s cat, possibly the most annoying character, switches constantly, and obviously, between actual cat and computerised cat. Rendered in entirely pointless 3D (of course), the filmmakers haven’t even bothered to exploit this as a gimmick; I can’t think of a single scene in which I even noticed it.

While this is obviously specifically aimed at children, and therefore does not necessarily need to appeal to adults in a similar fashion, The Smurfs 2 is an insult to all audiences; generic, stupid, hammy, boring, and stereotyped. Quite frankly, it’s a smurfing great example of a big, steaming pile of smurf.

Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa
Release date: 7 August 2013
Rating: 3/5

Squarely aimed at fans of I’m Alan Partridge, this long-awaited big screen outing sees the action somewhat ramped up, but retains the series’ small-scale atmosphere – it feels small-budget and familiar, with some nice nods to its origins. It also, in part due to the involvement of Armando Iannucci (The Thick of It) and Steve Coogan (who takes on both writing and acting roles as before), matches ludicrous slapstick (Alan’s attempts to climb in through a window, for example) with deadpan humour; there are plenty of opportunities to snicker, smile, and cringe at Alan’s ineptitude and awkwardness, but not as many chances to really laugh out loud. Yet I was only ever a casual viewer, who watched the show on repeat due to a friend’s obsession more than my own, so perhaps I am not really the right person to judge the effectiveness of its comedy.

Those uninitiated in the world of Alan Partridge will, however, still gain some pleasure from Alpha Papa if they actually bother going. The narrative follows a standard hostage scenario formula, but remains pleasantly low-key; Colm Meaney’s aggrieved ex-employee at the newly rebranded Shape radio station in Norwich is less a criminal mastermind than a slightly unhinged, fairly normal guy and, instead of succumbing to an unrealistic world of explosions and Hollywoodised action, the situation escalates because of Alan’s sheer obliviousness and socially inappropriate behaviour. He remains dogmatic and utterly deluded in his self-belief, and events unfold in a suitably ridiculous manner.

Despite the small scale, Alpha Papa is well executed. It moves briskly through its relatively short running time (90 minutes) and this economy and lack of ego works well – more often than not, attempts to bring a much-loved sitcom character from the constraints of a twenty-five minute show to feature length simply reveal that characters limitations, but this is not the case here. Yet, at the same time, the big screen really adds little to this intimate little film; indeed, it may benefit from repeat viewings at home, where lines can be repeated and paused over. It may not necessarily open Alan Partridge up to a new audience, but the fans will be delighted.