That’s the way it is with the good ones. You’re sure you’ve heard them before.

Crazy Heart

(2009)

Likely to be barely-remembered as “What was that film Jeff Bridges won the Oscar for?” It’s his Blue Sky. You know, the one Jessica Lange won the Oscar for. See what I mean? Not that Jeff didn’t deserve the statue. This is a fine performance, but Crazy Heart as a whole is merely so-so. Respectably told, but familiar and resolutely unexceptional.

Bridges is washed-up, alcoholic country music star “Bad” Blake, reduced to touring third-rate venues such as bowling alleys (in an amusing nod to The Big Lebowski, Blake is informed he must pay for his booze but he is entitled to free bowling). His health is giving way and he hasn’t written a new song in three years. He’s also perpetually feuding with his manager (James Keane) and bears a grudge towards his protégé Tommy Sweet (Colin Farrell), who has gone on to great things. When Blake meets Jean, (Maggie Gyllenhaal) a single mother whose path crosses his when she interviews him for the local rag, romance blossoms. Blake finds himself inspired again, and even accepts an olive branch from Tommy (opening for one of his shows). But Blake’s addictions look set to ruin a good thing.

Everyone involved gives first class performances; this is the sort of movie where name actors working for scale for the prestige value. Gyllenhaal makes a reactive role come alive, but unfortunately her underwritten character can’t escape the realm of cliché. Farrell is just sympathetic enough that you want Blake to get over himself already and make amends. Robert Duvall (who co-produced) is a rock as Blake’s wise old bar tender pal. And Scott Cooper, adapting Thomas Cobb’s novel and making his directing debut, handles the material with subtlety and sensitivity.

But troubled drunk narratives need to go that extra mile to break free from predictability, and this one doesn’t quite make it (the scene where Blake loses Jean’s son can be seen coming half an hour before it happens). While it comes as a relief that Crazy Heart chooses not to embrace a descent into a Leaving Las Vegas-esque quagmire of self-indulgent misery, the route it does choose doesn’t quite ring true either. Nevertheless, it earns points for not steering away from overly-sensational twists and treating its characters with a low-key respect.

The other legacy of this movie, besides the Oscar, is that looks like it is responsible for Bridges adoption of late-career cowboy stylings. Grizzly growly Jeff, prone to mumbling semi-coherently. Yep, that’s the guy in True Grit and R.I.P.D. If he’s going to succumb to habit-forming typecasting, I want to see more of hippy stoner Jeff. The only example of that we’ve seen of late is his TRON: Legacy turn.

***

Comments

She was addicted to Tums for a while.

Marriage Story (2019)
(SPOILERS) I don’t tend to fall heavily for Noah Baumbach fare. He’s undoubtedly a distinctive voice – even if his collaborations with Wes Anderson are the least of that director’s efforts – but his devotion to an exclusive, rarefied New York bubble becomes ever more off-putting with each new project. And ever more identifiable as being a lesser chronicler of the city’s privileged quirks than his now disinherited forbear Woody Allen, who at his peak mastered a balancing act between the insightful, hilarious and self-effacing. Marriage Story finds Baumbach going yet again where Woody went before, this time brushing up against the director’s Ingmar Bergman fixation.

You can’t climb a ladder, no. But you can skip like a goat into a bar.

Juno and the Paycock (1930)
(SPOILERS) Hitchcock’s second sound feature. Such was the lustre of this technological advance that a wordy play was picked. By Sean O’Casey, upon whom Hitchcock based the prophet of doom at the end of The Birds. Juno and the Paycock, set in 1922 during the Irish Civil War, begins as a broad comedy of domestic manners, but by the end has descended into full-blown Greek (or Catholic) tragedy. As such, it’s an uneven but still watchable affair, even if Hitch does nothing to disguise its stage origins.

I mean, I am just a dumb bunny, but, we are good at multiplying.

Zootropolis (2016)
(SPOILERS) The key to Zootropolis’ creative success isn’t so much the conceit of its much-vaunted allegory regarding prejudice and equality, or – conversely – the fun to be had riffing on animal stereotypes (simultaneously clever and obvious), or even the appealing central duo voiced by Ginnifier Goodwin (as first rabbit cop Judy Hopps) and Jason Bateman (fox hustler Nick Wilde). Rather, it’s coming armed with that rarity for an animation; a well-sustained plot that doesn’t devolve into overblown set pieces or rest on the easy laurels of musical numbers and montages.

You know what I think? I think he just wants to see one cook up close.

The Green Mile (1999)
(SPOILERS) There’s something very satisfying about the unhurried confidence of the storytelling in Frank Darabont’s two prison-set Stephen King adaptations (I’m less beholden to supermarket sweep The Mist); it’s sure, measured and precise, certain that the journey you’re being take on justifies the (indulgent) time spent, without the need for flashy visuals or ornate twists (the twists there are feel entirely germane – with a notable exception – as if they could only be that way). But. The Green Mile has rightly come under scrutiny for its reliance on – or to be more precise, building its foundation on – the “Magical Negro” trope, served with a mild sprinkling of idiot savant (so in respect of the latter, a Best Supporting Actor nomination was virtually guaranteed). One might argue that Stephen King’s magical realist narrative flourishes well-worn narrative ploys and characterisations at every stage – such that John Coffey’s initials are announcement enough of his…

We live in a twilight world.

Tenet (2020)
(SPOILERS) I’ve endured a fair few confusingly-executed action sequences in movies – more than enough, actually – but I don’t think I’ve previously had the odd experience of being on the edge of my seat during one while simultaneously failing to understand its objectives and how those objectives are being attempted. Which happened a few times during Tenet. If I stroll over to the Wiki page and read the plot synopsis, it is fairly explicable (fairly) but as a first dive into this Christopher Nolan film, I frequently found it, if not impenetrable, then most definitely opaque.

Maybe the dingo ate your baby.

Seinfeld 2.9: The Stranded
The Premise
George and Elaine are stranded at a party in Long Island, with a disgruntled hostess.

Do you read Sutter Cane?

In the Mouth of Madness (1994)
(SPOILERS) The concluding chapter of John Carpenter’s unofficial Apocalypse Trilogy (preceded by The Thing and Prince of Darkness) is also, sadly, his last great movie. Indeed, it stands apart in the qualitative wilderness that beset him during the ‘90s (not for want of output). Michael De Luca’s screenplay had been doing the rounds since the ‘80s, even turned down by Carpenter at one point, and it proves ideal fodder for the director, bringing out the best in him. Even cinematographer Gary K Kibbe seems inspired enough to rise to the occasion. It could do without the chugging rawk soundtrack, perhaps, but then, that was increasingly where Carpenter’s interests resided (as opposed to making decent movies).

A herbal enema should fix you up.

Never Say Never Again (1983)
(SPOILERS) There are plenty of sub-par Bonds in the official (Eon) franchise, several of them even weaker than this opportunistic remake of Thunderball, but they do still feel like Bond movies. Never Say Never Again, despite – or possibly because he’s part of it – featuring the much-vaunted, title-referencing return of the Sean Connery to the lead role, only ever feels like a cheap imitation. And yet, reputedly, it cost more than the same year’s Rog outing Octopussy.

Just make love to that wall, pervert!

Seinfeld 2.10: The Statue
The Premise
Jerry employs a cleaner, the boyfriend of an author whose book Elaine is editing. He leaves the apartment spotless, but Jerry is convinced he has made off with a statue.

To defeat the darkness out there, you must defeat the darkness inside yourself.

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (2010)
Easily the best of the Narnia films, which is maybe damning it with faint praise.

Michael Apted does a competent job directing (certainly compared to his Bond film - maybe he talked to his second unit this time), Dante Spinotti's cinematography is stunning and the CGI mostly well-integrated with the action.

Performance-wise, Will Poulter is a stand-out as a tremendously obnoxious little toff, so charismatic you're almost rooting for him. Simon Pegg replaces Eddie Izzard as the voice of Reepicheep and delivers a touching performance.
***

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

Search This Blog