The King's Speech

Tom Hooper's The King's Speech unites commoner and King with a national goal as the threat of war becomes increasingly more palpable. Providing brief glimpses into the trials affecting representatives of both domains, the film trivializes neither while promoting the ways in which they complement one another. The Duke of York (Colin Firth) stammers and is a source of mild embarrassment for his family when compelled to deliver public addresses. None of the doctors to whom he has been sent has been able to ameliorate his situation which becomes increasingly pressurized as his chances of becoming King improve. Enter Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush), a speech therapist whose alternative methods have gained renown and censure within his profession's culture. A confident, bold, and successful practitioner, Logue isn't intimidated when The Duke seeks his help, conducting his experimental business as usual. But a relationship develops wherein the therapist finds himself navigating political currents with which his social histories are unfamiliar. As The Duke learns to speak, Logue learns to hold his tongue, which makes him a trusted advisor as he adjusts and redesigns the manner in which his advice is offered, making it less treasonous. As progress is made, the commoner becomes a friend, and their dynamic deconstructs class barriers as the inevitable clash with Germany approaches.

Of course these class barriers are deconstructed because this situation is exceptional and it's only after every possible traditional outlet is sought out in vain that a plebeian alternative is considered, which seems to be saying that only in exceptional circumstances can royalty mingle with the common person in order to find a working solution, which isn't exactly progressive. Entertaining film nonetheless which suggests that if it wasn't for the relationship established between King and commoner Britain would not have had an august figure to sustain its resolve throughout World War II. Some of the scenes are rushed, there's the occasional inappropriate piece of gaudy cinematic melodrama, and the Duke of York's personal troubles receive much more attention than those of Mr. Logue. But The King's Speech does champion experimental forms of professional conduct and the determined individuals who resolutely pursue them while providing the working person with dignity and humanizing the life of a King.

Nice to see Derek Jacobi looking like pesky old Claudius throughout, Hooper's tribute to the stammering Roman Emperor so brilliantly theorized by the 1976 BBC miniseries.

Meditate and Destroy

Always intriguing when seemingly disparate dimensions synthesize and form a productive counterpoint. But I'm not convinced this is what Noah Levine and Sarah Fisher have achieved in Meditate and Destroy, a documentary film examining the life and teachings of dharma punk Noah Levine. Levine's commitment to buddhism is sound and its principles have provided his life with ways in which to peacefully 'harmonize' with his community. But the role punk rock continues to play in his buddhist meditations isn't investigated as thoroughly within. Facts: Levine adhered to punk gospel in his youth and has placed buddhism within an inclusive frame that can assist individuals engaging in destructive behaviour in finding alternative outlets for their anger. It's not that their anger isn't justified, but more of a situation where Levine provides people suffering from abuse and/or addiction and/or exclusion with an outlet through which they can learn to seek inner peace through self-reflection, and make adjustments that can lead to different non-violent ways of expressing themselves, after having learned to question and understand the reasons governing their destructive conduct. Note that this process is continuous, questions leading to understandings which lead to more questions which lead to different understandings and so on. The film's form shows how individual punks become part of a buddhist community and how that buddhist community is composed of individual punks by consistently presenting groups of people, introducing us to members through close-ups, and then interviewing everyone found within these close-ups, thereby giving them a voice through which they can express how Levine's approach has helped them, moving back and forth between "translator" and "translation" while blurring the lines and showing how each individualized focus is simultaneously both a reflection and foundational component of their universal commitment. But where does the countercultural nature of punk rock fit into this universal commitment, and does it re-manifest itself within? The title of the film is misleading insofar as the Destroy factor is pacified considerably but perhaps that's the point, i.e., learning to destroy destructive behaviours peacefully through an egalitarian disposition that actively accepts and recognizes subjective shortcomings while passively pursuing and elevating an objective inclusive ideal? Taking a word like 'destroy' and re-imagining its meaning in such a way is certainly impressive. And totally punk!

MacGruber

Rejected from the toilet bowl and then re-submerged for an attempted reflush, Jorma Taccone's MacGruber salivates and regurgitates its lewd, moronic humour in an occasionally funny ridiculous big penis joke. Starting slow and then slowly improving, if you happen to find it endearing when a bad joke doesn't work and then the writers try it again anyways, making light of the fact that it didn't work the first time with each subsequent rehashing, MacGruber keeps plugging away with charmingly impotent precision and blunt extreme distaste. A nuclear warhead has been hijacked by a politically connected thug who hopes to use it to blow up Washington, D.C. The only person who can stop him used to be an exceptional counter-terrorism operative who retired after his wife was killed during their wedding. Convinced by Col. James Faith (Powers Boothe) to come back for one more round, MacGruber (Will Forte) returns from Ecuador to put a unit together to recover the warhead. But after accidentally blowing that unit up with homemade C-4, he has to do his best with everything he's got, which, as it turns out, is much more competent than he is.

Borrowing heavily from Live Free or Die Hard, Austin Powers and Team America World Police, MacGruber situates a blast from the past within the present and then forces those familiar with contemporary dynamics to follow his antiquated guidance. Frustrated and confused while not shying away from consistently augmenting their criticisms, MacGruber's new team does their best to deal with his chauvinistic narcissistic improvisations. As the plot unravels, it turns out that just about everyone can be considered one big happy family, cohesively united through scatological sentiments, an important characteristic of this type of comedy's aesthetic. The film does improve as it progresses, mostly due to its intelligent stupidity and the ways in which it champions new members of the workforce, but if you don't like narratives where each consecutive piece of smutty dialogue becomes more and more lascivious as time goes by, there's more than a slight chance you will not like MacGruber.

Note that I watched the unrated version.

The Fighter

Modestly presenting the difficulties affecting up and coming boxer Micky Ward (Mark Wahlberg), David O. Russell's The Fighter demonstrates how the middling element can be used to unite a community. Wedged between a pattern that has lead to stagnation and an opportunity that could turn things around, Micky has to choose between his family and his career as his older half-brother Dicky Eklund (Christian Bale) heads to prison. This isn't easy to do. Before crack cocaine took over his life, Dicky was a professional boxer and his insights and instincts have been crucial to Micky's development. As a manager, however, Dicky has struggled, but due to the strength of their fraternal bound, Micky has trouble tearing himself away. When it comes to his shot at the WBU's Intercontinental Light Welterweight Title, he's training with a new team, Dicky's released from prison, and a decision must be made. Can Micky use his influence to productively synthesize the fiercely opposed historical animosities firmly established between his family and trainers, or will they continue to fight, thereby infantilizing his shot at the title?

The Fighter calmly examines tough subject matter, refusing to sensationalize its controversial content. Topics investigated include crack cocaine addiction, prostitution, police brutality, stubborn familial and communal prejudices, unsympathetic ex-wives, children of crack addicted parents, introducing outsiders to an exclusive social fabric, disdainful expectations, immigration, and the unforgiving underbelly of professional sports. A lot's riding on Micky's progress and the pressure he encounters in his daily life needs to be skillfully managed so that he can succeed in his career. Considering The Fighter's manifold layers of tension, I hesitate to say it's a relaxed film, and it's to Russell's credit that he's able to coordinate these layers with such composure. If he wasn't able to inspire such convincing characters from Wahlberg, Bale, Amy Adams (Charlene Fleming), and Melissa Leo (Micky and Dicky's Mom), he never would have been able to pull it off.

The Green Hornet

Can a spoiled good-natured exceedingly wealthy party animal suddenly turn his life around and combat the forces of evil with unerring alacrity and formidable strength? Definitely not without the help of his ingenious barista, and within Michel Gondry's The Green Hornet this is sort of what happens, although the exploits of Britt Reid (Seth Rogan) and Kato (Jay Chou) do not proceed as smoothly as aforementioned. It's a film more about cool gadgets, sophomoric dialogue, and stunning automobiles than battling bad guys and dispensing justice, a different sort of super hero film, if you can call it that, where the villain (Chudnofsky [Christoph Waltz]) has the best lines and the most integrity (ala Frank Booth [note the gas mask]), and the hero is a jealous, ineffectual schmuck (your reaction to Chudnofsky's identity crisis could make or break the film for you [I only saw one Green Hornet ad showcasing Chudnofsky and I'm not surprised; the jokes only work well in context]). A lot of superheroes lack the confidence to engage in superheroic acts until that special moment when they realize they've possessed what it takes to superhero all along. In The Green Hornet, Reid has the confidence to engage in superheroic acts and it's not until that special moment where he realizes he's a douche bag, one who seriously needs his support network, that he discovers the necessary skills. The film's well written insofar as it develops intriguing ingenuous and devious characters full of frustration and weakness who are relatable and comedically tragic and places them within off-beat game-changing big-picture situations (Reid equals fantasy, Kato, reality). The structure's somewhat suspect however inasmuch as more screen time is spent exploring the friendships/relationships between Reid, Kato, and Lenore Case (Cameron Diaz) than developing legitimate underground crime fighters (this would have worked more successfully in a graphic novel). Nonetheless, they do fight crime, and near the end we watch as a socially-conscious American floats through the sky seated beside a brilliant Chinese self-made-person, their livelihood sustained by an incisive woman, existential yet practical as they have made a difference.

Mehopes this image bears fruit in the 21st Century.

Sympathy for Lady Vengeance

The snow gently descends along its ethereal path, randomly commissioned, capturing daydreams and murmurings and innocence, a mistake leads to penalties, incarcerated plumes, resurgent resilient ceremonial hues, a daughter, a family, remembrances, takes, withdrawn yet fulfilled as misgivings wake, tied to a chair for his crimes sits and waits, his victims regroup, testimonials discussed, sudden romance, baking, that could have happened, that did happen, that did, it's a possibility, there's a reward, recognition, an angel, fluttering and flying, mystified, the group gathered together, cohesive, confused, rounded-up-singled-out, battered, used, penalties for mistakes no escape lightly staked priorities, he was on the case, he worked in the prison, piecemeal, sharp, perforated introductions, reintroduced with reflections, suggestions, vivisections, a light tapping, sound, panoramic internal detail, resurfaced recalcitrance, submission to the verdict, determined, resolved tick-tocking, snatched, an eye for an eye, rehabilitated, refreshed, working together, together, with each other, at pictures and fissures and scripture, bemoan and beget, implacable, lace, eyeshadow, fallen by the wayside, with friendship, and family and friendship and family and clustered repentant momentous recoveries darkened and resting and snapping and slowly, taking their time, offering advice, stipulating conditions, acquiescing, atoning, sequestering while unleashing Sympathy for Lady Vengeance.

Lady Terminator

A legendary Javanese goddess known as the South Sea Queen is out for revenge after having been spurned by an innovative lover. Swearing to return in a hundred years to terminate this lover's great-granddaughter, she retreats to the bottom of the sea to plot her vindictive trajectory. 100 years later, a young anthropology student (Barbara Anne Constable) scuba dives through her underwater domain and becomes the body which she carnally inhabits. A violent rampage follows wherein men are seduced and disposed of as she seeks her object of vengeance with coldhearted calculated precision.

Basically a low-budget rip off of The Terminator, Jalil Jackson's Lady Terminator re-imagines Arnold Schwarzenegger's robotic menace and portrays it as an unstoppable she-beast. Up and coming pop star Erica (Claudia Angelique Rademaker) substitutes for Sarah Connor and is protected by law enforcement officer Max McNeil (Christopher J. Hart). The film unabashedly follows The Terminator's narrative with entertaining accuracy even duplicating scenes and reusing the "come with me if you want to live" line. Nothing is taken seriously and it unreels as a fun, ridiculous, salacious peculiarity whose content has been thoroughly homaged in shows like South Park and The Family Guy. Should you be careful when approached by an alluring voluptuous goddess seeking pleasure and pain in no particular order? Yes you should. Should you take the time to meticulously edit your kitschy film to ensure internal consistency before distributing it to your local and foreign markets? No, you should not. Should you try and hide the fact that you're remaking a film four years after its release, following its plot developments religiously, without taking the time to examine any of the pertinent copyright legislation issues? I really don't know, but Lady Terminator is an amusing chaotic highly gratuitous audacious gambit whose legacy has cultivated a devoted underground following. I'm not going to talk about the eel.

Season of the Witch

After willingly and directly embracing the vicious profits of an unrelenting crusade, knights Behman (Nicolas Cage) and Felson (Ron Perlman) desert to find their way home. But representatives of the church are none to happy when they discover them passing through their land, and they quickly have them thrown in the dungeon. Freedom is offered with a price: transport a witch (Claire Foy) who has been blamed for a plague to a remote monastery where she will receive her trial. The knights begrudgingly accept, and, aided by a cast of individuals seeking virtue, or clemency, depart on their most treacherous and psychologically destabilizing journey yet.

Dominic Sena's Season of the Witch is an exercise in bipolarity. Many of Nicolas Cage's lines attempt to sound insightful and wise but come across as questionably delivered hokum. At the same time, he seems to be aware of this as does Sena and at times it seems as if Season of the Witch is subtly lampooning itself. But during other moments its seriousness is genuine which results in a cloying, frustrating affect (occasionally mitigated by Ron Perlman). Everyone within is frustrated however so this affect, albeit irritating, does correspond to the film's internal dynamics. At first, the opening scene seemed rushed and hasty, causing me to fear for the fate of the movie. But as it dragged on, its ridiculousness, qualified by a priest's undying commitment to his calling's principles, had a certain irresistible flair, insofar as it wasn't cut off willy nilly and was given time to grow. The next scene depicts a lacklustre religious figure mundanely yet confidently rallying his troops to combat a group of recalcitrant 'heathens.' The figure lacks the bold, energetic, lively characteristics I've come to identify with those filmically delivering a war cry, and the following scenes do nothing to generate greater sympathy. Hence, one priest is valiant in his fight against evil, another religious figure banal; religion is upheld as just and benevolent and then immediately depicted as rapacious. The dialogue throughout casts doubt on the church's legitimacy as it relates to the hunting of witches, yet witches exist within and logically should therefore be hunted. An over-the-top sensational battle between the forces of good and evil seems ready to be showcased during the conclusion yet instead we receive a brief, run-of-the-mill, laid back encounter which reminded me of Eddie Murphy's The Golden Child. Season of the Witch attempts to play to fans of low budget intelligent horror yet mixes in so many mainstream compromises that its diluted product, once again, occasionally remixed and spiced up by Ron Perlman, who should have been given the leading role, suffocates beneath the weight of its bewitching disorder.

I generally like films which play with conventions and offer a broad taste of ambiguous potential to a wide audience, but Season of the Witch's steady reliance on unimaginative proclamations, unless these proclamations are seen as Behman's unconscious absorption of his crusading leader's disproportionate dialogue, distorts its edge and sickly sentimentalizes its grit. Sena does a lot with his script and there's certainly much to discuss but it lacks the less disheartening developments found in a film like Christopher Smith's Black Death, and falls far short of its intellectually entertaining goals.

Mèche Blanche, les aventures du petit castor (White Tuft, The Little Beaver)

After a furious current deposits him far away from the safety of his mother's lodge, Mèche Blanche, the little beaver, must find his way home. Lost in the wild with little knowledge of the necessary survival skills, Mèche Blanche scavenges and scurries his way through the forest, agilely avoiding a hungry pack of wolves, until he finds refuge with a grumpy old beaver. Meanwhile, back at the dam, Mèche Blanche's mother and sister hold down the fort while conducting a search and outwitting a scurrilous otter. Bears, lynx, raccoons, owls, porcupines, skunks, snakes, frogs and squirrels round out the cast as these beavers go about their business of beavering. Some may find it odd that Mèche Blanche couldn't fight harder against the current which deposits him so far away, or that a bear would cross a narrow beaver dam when it could simply swim past, but it's best not to question the designs of this legend for they bravely define a young hero's strength building quest, as he struggles against the odds and contends with adversity. Friendships are made, tests are passed, hardships endured, and mischievousness managed, as the courageous Mèche Blanche learns what it means to beaver.

Slacker

Fluidly connecting multiple random moments from a day in the life of Austin, Texas, Richard Linklater's Slacker staggeringly introduces manifold characters, themes, and situations, each negotiating its own peculiar qualification, before fading into the background and constructing the affect. Rituals and declarations and circumstance. Considerations and diversification and history. Walking the beat, tweaking the pace, adapting the rhythm, refocusing the plurality. It's about difference, non-financially motivated objectives, rugged potential, and flourishing happenstance. The consent found within this emancipated group has not been manufactured as I've come to understand the white picket fence phenomenon and it's refreshing to watch as its manifestations suggest, plead, and evaluate before fading and reappearing with a refurbished energetically relaxed focus. There's no climax, build-up, or predictable order of things, just a number of individualized reflections presented and compellingly displayed.