Duplicity

Distrusting Futility
Tail-Chasing MacGuffins Hobble Owen and Roberts
By Cole Smithey

Writer/director Tony Gilroy-the director of "Michael Clayton" and "The Bourne Ultimatum"--runs his ship aground with a smarty-pants crime romance set amid the world of corporate espionage. Uber spies Ray (played by Clive Owen) and Claire (played by Julia Roberts) get themselves in deep when they decide to leverage their mutual distrust for one another as a foundation for a romantic relationship. The wrongheaded decision makes Ray, an ex-MI6 double-spy, and Claire, a former CIA agent, a double-double spy when it comes to stealing the formula for a mystery cream (or is it a lotion?) from a mega-corporation run by Tom Wilkinson's blow-hard megalomaniac Howard Tully. Paul Giamatti plays Howard's rival corporate raider Dick Garsik whose primary goal in life is to hear the sound of Howard's cojones hitting the floor. With flashbacks, flash-forwards, and few flashes of inspiration, the movie flips around like a dying fish on a balsa wood boat dock. Sure Owen, Roberts, Giamatti, and Wilkinson are all great to look at on the big screen, but that hardly makes "Duplicity" anything more than a barely watchable crime thriller where the biggest thrill is getting up from your seat when it's finally over.

The most captivating scene comes early on when Burkett-Randle’s Howard Tully and Equikrom’s Dick Garsik engage in a slow-motion brawl on a rainy airport tarmac between their private jets while each rival's personal team of advisors watch in horror from a safe distance. The giants of industry shout angry words that are left up to the audience's imagination as spit flies slowly from their contorted mouths. Once physically engaged in battle, the fight takes on a choreographed dance quality. It's perhaps the film's greatest sin that the story never finds its way back around to the how, why, and wherefore of the humorous violent confrontation. Herein lies one of Tony Gilroy's many flaws as the film's screenwriter. He never gets straight whether to focus on the uncomfortable romance between his glamorous romantic leads, or to dive into the Gates/Jobs-styled competition between Garsik and Tully. The film's muddled message about the need for trust in a relationship will be smeared into windshield wiper residue.  

Ray and Claire meet cute at a pool party in Dubai in 2003 where Ray seduces the fishy Claire who enjoys their bed romp before drugging Ray and stealing secret documents taped under his hotel mattress. When Ray spots Claire years later while on a corporate intelligence mission at Manhattan's Grand Central station, he drops everything to confront her on the humiliation she put him through in Dubai. Much to Ray's consternation, Claire tries to laugh off the accusation and the amorously prickly scene becomes a touchstone for their uneasy union that follows. The dialogue is racy, but Gilroy makes one of the film's many mistakes by repurposing the scene again and again as a MacGuffin that comes back to haunt the story.   

Garsik's well-fortified team of industry spies, of which Ray is the newest member, steal a copy of an in-house speech Howard Tully is about to give announcing the arrival of a new mystery product that demands extra security until its public disclosure. Garsik has a shareholder's meeting coming up soon for which he'd love to beat Tully to the punch of announcing the new mystery product for his own company. The movie rolls out with distracting flashbacks and creeping plot developments that point to Ray and/or Claire obtaining Tully's secret formula which they hope to sell and use to retire to Italy in 40 million dollars worth of wealthy obscurity.

"Duplicity" is so heavily back-loaded that it demands the audience take a leap of faith that all narrative debts will be paid off in a third act finale. No such luck. When the overlong movie finally gets to its climax, it's too little too late. Grand Canyon-sized plot holes get a kitchen sink caulk job that drops our four protagonists/antagonists off roughly where they began. The blurry division between the good and bad guys is a problematic issue that's never properly handled. Ostensibly Clive Owen's smooth talker Ray and Paul Giamatti's duplicitous Dick Garsik are characters we root for if only because their characters are the most pro-active of the bunch. In the end, we're left questioning how the movie evaporated in front of our eyes. It's because there wasn't much there to begin with.      

(Universal) Rated PG-13. 118 mins. (C-) (Two Stars) 

High Fidelity

John Cusack is a wily devil. It isn’t enough that he’s been drinking from the fountain of youth since the last time he worked with British director Stephen Frears on "The Grifters" in 1990, with Annette Bening and Anjelica Huston, but the 34-year-old man/boy actor has cornered a cool piece of the film market with a confident brand of spry urban ingenuity. Ironically, his many past roles, from "Say Anything" to "Being John Malkovich," seem to have all been leading to his humorous and fully-realized portrayal of a self-defeating hopeless romantic record collector named Rob Gordon. Cusack seamlessly glides between fourth-wall breaking docu-style exposition, flashback sequences, and in-the-moment experiences to expose multiple layers of unflinching male romantic mentality.

"Some things you never get used to, even though you’re feeling like another man."

That quote, taken from the Elvis Costello song "High Fidelity" from his 1980 album "Get Happy," underscores the kind of post-modern angst that Rob suffers through in his relationships with women. Rob views his past relationships much like his favorite songs, through a filter of "top five" lists that his recent romantic failure with Laura (Iben Hjejle - [pronounced EE-ben YAY-lay] Mifune) doesn’t rate against in his list of "Top Five Most Memorable Break-Ups." Each past affair had its own charms (as are revealed in soul-searching flashbacks), but always within a recurring motif of self-perceived rejection that Rob seeks to undo by revisiting a few of his past girlfriends and questioning them about their reasons for giving him the boot — although, as it turns out, he did his share of rejecting too.

While Rob might seem, on first take, like a case of narcissistic arrested-development, he’s an above average guy with a job that falls within (even if it’s at the bottom) his top five choices of employment. He’s one of those rare human animals that really cares enough about his past intimate relations to attempt to not repeat past mistakes. If his methods seem silly at first, by midway in the movie, the audience is brought around to seeing beneath Rob’s childish facade. The movie’s finest gift is that it lets the audience embrace the whole of Rob’s idiosyncratic character and uncover, with him, the germ of love that desperately longs to breed.

Rob owns and manages a semi-failing record store in Chicago, that specializes in vinyl records, with the help of geeky discophiles Barry (Jack Black) and Dick (Todd Louiso). These guys are walking encyclopedias of musical knowledge and are only too happy to bully customers and each other with their mastery of all musical minutiae. Frears sets a new watermark in mise en scene with his exacting attention to the cluttered record store’s details, that include visual treats like album covers from bands like "The Damned" and posters from iconic bands like "The Silos." When Dick impresses Anaugh (Sara Gilbert) with his musical prowess by playing "Suspect Device"--by the Stiff Little Fingers--it’s an near-religious moment of punk bliss. The soundtrack weighs heavy in favor of The Velvet Underground, but there are lots of other pop music treasures from artists like John Wesley Harding, Al Green, and Aretha Franklin that keep the movie percolating at a warm tempo.

Rob believes that it’s not what a person is like that’s important, but what they like, that reveals their real personality. He’s of a very specialized breed of male, born in 1963, who always seem to be ducking the bullets that caught up with John F. Kennedy. Although Cusack is a few years behind Rob's birthday, he has an uncanny grasp of that breed’s convulsive and obsessive attitudes toward sex, life, and especially romance. Between Cusack’s work on co-writing the script for "High Fidelity" and his priceless performance lies the rock ’n’ roll heart and soul of a guy for whom audiences deserve to stand in line.
Rated R. 113 mins. (A) (Five Stars)

Gen Z Goes Underground and Falls in Love

By Cole Smithey

A romantic love letter to New York’s downtown music scene, "Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist" finds New Jersey high school senior Nick (Michael Cera) attending to a bruised heart by making volumes of compilation CDs for his snooty ex-girlfriend Tris (Alexis Dziena – "Fool’s Gold"). Enter Norah (Kat Dennings), who’s already intimately familiar with Nick's connoisseur mix CDs, to make the most of a show where Nick's band is playing. One fast kiss between them sets them off an all-night search to see their favorite band "Where's Fluffy?," and to locate Norah's missing 3-sheets-to-the-wind amigo Caroline (Ari Graynor). Mark Mothersbaugh of DEVO fame contributed musically to the light-hearted inner city road comedy that grooves on a youthful vibe from relatively obscure bands. The soundtrack is a keeper.

The filmmakers go to pains to include gay teens in a non-affected but still humorous light. Nick’s gay band members Thom (Aaron Yoo) and Dev (Rafi Gavron) like to discuss possible band names to properly represent their irreverent "Queercore" punk attitude. The Jerk Offs and Sh*t Sandwich are a couple of possible designations that Nick doesn’t bother to debate. Thom and Dev provide a helpful support group for Nick, that includes providing a push-up bra to Norah when it becomes clear that she’ll be hanging out with Nick in his impossibly ugly yellow Yugo that frequently gets mistaken for a third-world taxicab. Think time machine.

Michael Cera plays the stereotyped role he invented—a self-deprecating and patient goofball with a few not-so-hidden charms. Unknown to Nick, the spirited Norah has recovered from the trash more than a few mix CDs Nick made for Tris. He also doesn’t realize that Norah knows Tris, and has had a crush on him for a while. So it is that in one moment of perfect teen affection, where the rules of gravity don’t apply, Nick and Norah take off on their love-at-first-sight one-night courtship.

The kids drive like crap and they’re irresponsible about taking care of Norah’s drunken best friend, but the movie earns a point by showing certain dangers that urban teens encounter and the fearless way they approach such situations. As with any notable music-fueled romantic comedy—"High Fidelity" or "Almost Famous"—it’s the music that sears the movie into the viewer’s brain. Music from groups like The Dead 60s and The Submarines, as well as Mark Mothersbaugh’s pop theme song, contribute to the rapid emotional undercurrents of the story’s energetic characters. Here’s a dream-tour of New York from the point of view of a bunch of young romantic kids taking full advantage of the city’s hip clubs and restaurants. Who needs to go to New York for a weekend when you can let Nick and Norah take you with them?

(Sony Pictures) PG-13. 90 mins. (B) (Three Stars)

Baby Mama

Baby Madness
It’s All in the Delivery
By Cole Smithey

Baby madness happily invades the brain of Philadelphia bachelorette and thriving businesswoman Kate Holbrook (gleefully played by Tina Fey) who, at the ripe age of 37, hires a surrogate mom to birth her sperm bank assisted baby. Amy Poehler plays Angie Ostrowiski, the white trash bimbet whose uterus will host Kate’s kin while she soaks up Kate’s upper class lifestyle as her temporary roommate. Poehler and Fey display a snappy on-screen chemistry that supports writer/director Michael McCullers’ quick-witted set pieces. Steve Martin makes a rare and humorous appearance as Kate’s crunchy granola boss, and supporting cast members Greg Kinnear, Sigourney Weaver, Romany Malco and Maura Tierney keep the laughs bubbling. Surrogate motherhood is the comic topic of the day, and this is one funny chick flick that won’t rankle male members of the audience.

Michael McCullers (co-writer on the Austin Powers movies) makes a feature film debut that profits hugely from Saturday Night Live as a pervasive influence of tone. The obvious consequence of former SNL cast members Poehler, Fey, and Martin working together as firmly established comedians working at the top of their game, lends an underlying wink of absurdity to everything that happens.

Tina Fey loses herself in a role that draws you in on a primal level because everyone understands the alarm of a woman’s biological clock going off like a three-alarm fire. McCullers pays attention to detail to mine humor from Kate’s trips to the sperm bank, bathroom, and surrogate baby company consultant Chaffee Bicknell (Sigourney Weaver), whose ability to give birth in her ‘50s backhandedly ridicules Kate’s desperation.

Class conflict is at the core of the story. Angie is a trash-talking girlfriend to her high school beau Carl (Dax Shepherd), who still drives around in the same old red Trans Am and has an eye on splitting the $10,000 from Angie’s surrogate pregnancy. Dax Shepherd may only have one character in his repertoire, but he knows it well. Carl is set up as a false antagonist pulling at Angie, whose entree into a world of financial liberty brings out her true nature as a responsible adult, but only after many goofy incidents.

One great example of Angie’s confused social graces comes when she answers Kate’s door to find Kate’s courting love interest Rob (Greg Kinnear). "Do come in," Angie says with an emphasis on the "do." Amy Poehler’s comic phrasing goes off on a tear as she lies about being Kate’s sister and takes a cell phone call from Europe for which she speaks broken Spanish. Kate leaves for her date with Rob with her toothbrush sticking out of her mouth. It’s these kind of detailed comic touches that keep adding up to reveal layers of character in Kate and Angie as opposite sides of the same coin.

"Baby Mama," a ghetto term turned mainstream thanks to K-Fed and Britney Spears, is a comedy of female humor set to spin by its gifted performers. The film’s producers’ aim to attract viewers for Tina Fey’s television show "30 Rock" is a worthy goal if generating this level of comedy is the thing movie audiences get in exchange. As with all comedy, it’s all in the delivery.

Rated PG-13. 87 mins. (B+) (Four Stars)

Forgetting Sarah Marshall

Full-Frontal Assault
American Cinema Isn’t All About Bush Anymore
By Cole Smithey

Full-frontal male nudity achieves de rigueur R-rated status in American cinema thanks to the shameless efforts of Judd Apatow’s gang of cutting-edge writers and directors that have delivered movies like "The 40-Year-Old Virgin" and "Superbad." It’s not exactly telling tales out of school to reveal "Sarah Marshall’s" opening scene wherein one very nude Jason Segel exposes more than just his character’s Peter Bretter’s heart on his sleeve before being unceremoniously dumped by his girlfriend of the film’s title. Sarah (Kristen Bell) is a semi-famous television actress who throws over Peter’s affections in favor of a Fabioesque British singer/songwriter called Aldous Snow (Russell Brand). Unromantic and romantic intrigue follow when Peter attempts to escape his broken heart on a trip to Hawaii where Sarah and her cocky boy toy have coincidentally rented a room in the same all-inclusive resort. Jason Segel makes a nearly lovable sadsack who gets some sensual healing from the hotel’s lovely concierge Rachel (Mila Kunis). The comedy is at once sophisticated, bawdy, and infused with ridiculous situations derived from screenwriter/actor Jason Segel’s checkered romantic past.

At the heart of the volatile satire is the droopy torch that overly sensitive Peter carries for his shallow celebrity ex-girlfriend. Tall and pudgy Peter composes and performs piano music for Sarah’s quirky homicide TV show that features kinky sexual aspects to all its victims’ deaths. He’s a work-at-home guy who relishes eating gargantuan bowls of sugary breakfast cereal in the raw. As we learn via clever flashback sequences, Sarah wore the pants in the relationship. At premiers, paparazzi yell at the out-of-place "boyfriend" to get out of the shot so they can feed on Sarah’s white bread beauty like guppies at dinnertime while he’s left holding her purse. The experience of dating such a gorehound for attention has left him emasculated with the kind of self-loathing that ad agencies build empires on.

On the flipside of Sarah’s not-so-brilliant design for fleeting romance is her dubious choice for Peter’s replacement. Aldous Snow is a phony and a stereotypical fame-glutton so in love with himself that he make’s Sarah’s half-hearted narcissism seem amateurish by comparison. Here’s Sarah’s role model that taught her how to treat Peter. A lot of comedy derives from seeing Peter come face to face with this double rival whose egotistical attitude Sarah vicariously lords over him.

For as much pain as the cult-of-celebrity has cost Peter, the climate of corporate slackerdom comes to his rescue. Mila Kunis’ Rachel couldn’t care less about any hotel employee policies about not fraternizing with guests, and her unfocused working class character is an effective foil against the Sarah Marshalls and Aldous Snows of the world. Sarah’s visage may have the approval of the masses, but Rachel’s outward beauty is reinforced with a generous nonchalance that all but cancels out Sarah’s excuses for existence. The filmmakers have fun poking some lesbian subtext into a couple of encounters between Rachel and Sarah. It’s this kind of random tension that simmers between the film’s guffaw-inducing sex scenes.

Fans of Judd Apatow’s comedies will appreciate Paul Rudd’s performance as an ageless surfing instructor, and Jonah Hill’s fawning role as a gay restaurant maitre ‘d with a sideline-recording career. Director Nicholas Stoller makes his directing debut, but the movie belongs to Jason Segel for his audacious script and constant presence as a recovering romantic accoutrement. "Forgetting Sarah Marshall" is a romantic comedy for guys, but there’s plenty of material aimed at female audiences as well, not the least of which are the full-frontal male assaults. We’re all friends in Judd Apatow’s comedic vision.

Rated R, 112 mins. (B-) (Three Stars)

Broken Flowers

Less Is More
Jim Jarmusch Sends Bill Murray On A Deadpan Tour Of Romance
By Cole Smithey

"Broken Flowers" is not a great movie compared to the midlife crisis comedy "Sideways," but Bill Murray's scrupulously finessed performance resounds with the baby boomer remorse of callused souls. Jarmusch, like Sofia Coppola (who directed Murray in "Lost In Translation"), utilizes lingering close-up shots of Murray's defiantly emoting face. Retired software mogul Don Johnston (Murray) snaps out of the narcissistic lifestyle he imposes over exiting girlfriend Sherry (July Delpy) when he receives an anonymous typewritten letter reporting that Don fathered a boy 20 years ago, who may now be seeking Don out as his biological father. Johnston's benevolent neighbor Winston (Jeffrey Wright) appoints himself to solve Don's mystery and assigns Don to methodically go and revisit his former lovers in search of clues. Don's 'ex-girlfriend' road trip around the Catskills is filled with gentle measures of love, lust, joy, pain and ambivalence that spice up the emotionally atmospheric movie.

A polarized synergy builds up between Don's distanced-but-curious male character and the powerful women from his past that he greets with a bouquet of flowers for each. Sharon Stone is Laura, a nearly inoffensive suburban tramp, with a very naughty daughter named Lolita (Alexis Dziena) who lives up to her distinction.

Frances Conroy enjoys witty scenes as Dora a former hippy living in an atmosphere of complete boredom with her real estate sales partner of a husband. Jarmusch makes great use of a dinner table conversation to reveal Dora's verdict regarding any possible children. The scene is a lyrical study in economical humor and straightforward social satire. 

Don steps into a pile of lesbian jealously when he visits his ex-lover Carmen (Jessica Lange) at her office as an "animal communicator," while Carmen's vigilant assistant (Chloe Sevigny) exerts her skeptical attitude over Don. The film's third act weakens upon Don's last visit, to his grudge-bearing ex-girlfriend Penny (Tilda Swinton) who puts a severe damper on Don's quest for recognition via her current boyfriend's fist. Jarmusch suffocates the scene by rushing it and then by not allowing enough reaction time for the scene breathe. Tilda Swinton and Larry Fessenden do little with their contrived performances to bring forth any emotional colors.

"Broken Flowers" is a time capsule contemplation of an American generational zeitgeist similar to that in John Sayles' terrific "The Return Of The Secaucus Seven." Don Johnston's reunion with his female generational peers provides him with a reflecting image of himself and gives the audience an intimate view of hope and opportunity. By taking action on a deeply personal question Don affords himself a comparison lifestyle course that answers a lot of completely unrelated questions that miraculously gang up to solve Don's immediate relationship to himself.

Don's effort to change his life from a static redundant experience is unfortunately accompanied by a pesky repetitive musical score by Ethiopian jazz artist Mulatu Astatke. The finite tunes, presented as Winston's homemade music that he gives Don for the trip, wear out their welcome by the middle of the movie and detract from the film's potential overall effect. "Broken Flowers" is not going to knock anyone's socks off. It will remain, however, another entertaining testament to Bill Murray's sly ingenuity and to Jim Jarmusch's patient approach to telling a story. For those two reasons, I retract what I said about "Sideways" being better. It's just similar but different.

"Broken Flowers" is another chapter in Jim Jarmusch's moderately impressive assortment of original minimalist cinema that makes the minimalist films of Gus Van Sant shrivel in comparison.

Rated R. 105 mins. (B+) (Four Stars)