Crazy Stupid Love

Soul Mates
A Solid Cast and a Good Script Bring Adult Romantic Comedy Back
By Cole Smithey

For the first time in a long time Hollywood offers up an energetic adult romantic comedy that's equal parts substance and comic spice. A generational divide between old-fashioned romantic sensibilities and the cultured mechanics of modern dating tactics bubble up for deeply satisfying laughs.

Steve Carell's suburban family man Cal gets hit by a ton of bricks when his childhood-sweetheart wife Emily (Julianne Moore) asks for a divorce so she can pursue a relationship with her smarmy co-worker David Lindhagen (Kevin Bacon). The perfectly cast Steve Carell is a picture of middle aged male frumpiness. He wears his dirty New Balance tennis shoes as if they were a birthright. Carell uses everyday mannerisms to convey an abandoned dog attitude for his disheveled character. Cal needs to be adopted, and we as the audience want to help.

Cal's brain is stuck on a short loop connected directly to his mopey mouth about how his adulterous wife "slept with David Lindhagen." Every patron and bartender at Cal's newly regular watering hole knows his sad sack story all too well. The posh venue also serves as the frequent hunting ground for Ryan Gosling's Jacob to ply his well worn trade of catch-and-release fishing for a steady stream of "fancy face" females who fall for his polished game 99% of the time. Jacob responds to something in Cal's naive nature. He generously offers to tutor Cal in the fine art of cocksmanship at no charge. Still, the sensei/student lessons come with face-slaps and a head-to-toe make-over that liberally drains Cal's credit card for the "16 items" he needs to reinvent his wardrobe. The filmmakers stumble during a couple of poorly calculated nude scenes between Cal and Jacob that briefly expose the screenwriters more than they do their characters.

Ryan Gosling isn't just convincing in the Don Juan role, he's magnetizing. Watching Gosling's super confident Jacob flirt and charm women galvanizes the script's assessment of modern day maleness.

Jacob tells Cal, "The battle of the sexes is over, and we won. Women lost when they started taking pole-dancing classes." The screenwriters are overflowing with such ideas about how male/female relations have changed in the age of internet porn, sexting, and YouTube instruction videos for everything.

Little does Jacob realize he's fated to meet his match in the guise of a young redheaded woman named Hannah (Emma Stone). There's real fire in the onscreen chemistry between Gosling and Stone. Their scenes together anchor the film's emotional aspirations.

"Crazy Stupid Love" is directed and filmed with such overall precision that when it slips under the heavy hand of commenting musical choices, such as a certain overused Talking Heads song, you can't help but groan at the cliché. There's also a little gear-grinding that occurs between the second and third act before the story finds it's escalating glide toward a family crisis of epic proportions.

Ironically, the film's theme lines are carried by Cal's 13-year-old son Robbie (well played by Jonah Bobo). Robbie has a major crush on his 17-year-old babysitter Jessica (Analeigh Tipton), who is busy trying to get Cal's romantic attention. Robbie views Jessica as his soul mate. Nothing will dissuade him. Robbie's persistence of romantic vision knows no boundaries. By the end of the movie neither do we. Anything seems possible with the right amount of heart.

Rated PG-13. 118 mins. (B+) (Four Stars - out of five/no halves)

Midnight in Paris

"Midnight in Paris" is amusing. Which is fine. While it by no means represents the long-awaited return to form, it is probably as good as Woody Allen's films are likely to get in this, the final victory-lap stage of his career. With its pleasant gypsy jazz guitar score and clearly-enunciated themes of nostalgia set in the city of lights, "Midnight in Paris" dips, glides, and even manages to soar (if only for a moment here and there). Owen Wilson hangs on to his identity better than many have in the role of Woody Allen's trademark tic, the alter ego protagonist. That is if you can ignore Wilson's proclivity for pronouncing the word probably as "prolly." Gil (Owen) is a worn-out screenwriter with his first novel freshly under his belt when he travels to Paris with his fiancée Inez (Rachel McAdams) and her disapproving parents. "Crypto fascist airhead zombies" is one way Inez's right-wing parents are compartmentalized by Allen's scalpel of dry wit. In her role as a harpy shrew, Rachel McAdams fills space in a strictly utilitarian part that could have been executed by a dozen other actresses; no one would be any the wiser.

The story takes shape as an imaginative literary reverie. Gil enjoys during late night strolls through Paris that take him on a time-travel journey when church bell tolls at midnight. Gil adores walking in the rain in Paris. Allen's eye for immaculate postcard compositions regales the audience with a fantasy vision of Paris that transports it back to the 1920s when American ex-pats such as Cole Porter, Ernest Hemingway, Pablo Picasso, and Gertrude Stein exchanged ideas and bodily fluids. A stream of actors alternately succeeds and fails in cameo roles as famous artists, writers, dancers, and lovers. Marion Cotillard stands out as Picasso's amalgamated mistress Adriana. Here is an actress incapable of turning in a lackluster performance. Corey Stoll owns his vibrant scenes as Hemingway. Kathy Bates misses the target completely as Gertrude Stein, just as Adrien Brody turns his Salvador Dalí creation into a cartoon character of the Bugs Bunny variety.

Allen conjures up a simpler time filled with a joie de vivre sadly absent from 21st century existence. In fairness to the Woodman, the famously wistful auteur backpedals to remind us that nostalgia is a trap that prevents us from enjoying the life we have to share. "Midnight in Paris" embodies a springtime sense of romantic desire. So much the better if you happen to walk out of the cinema, as I did, onto a rainy urban street after seeing it.

Rated PG-13. 94 mins. (B-) (Three Stars - out of five/no halves)

Something Borrowed

Pretty People Doing Bad Things
Cheaters Never Win
By Cole Smithey

Attractive people do bad things in this foolhardy romantic comedy based on Emily Giffin's novel. Best friends since childhood, Rachel (Ginnifer Goodwin) and Darcy (Kate Hudson) share a well-worn dysfunctional relationship. Passive aggressive Rachel lays down for Darcy's every super aggressive action. Hudson's sassy Darcy is a bully charmer who always gets her way with a hair flip, an ass-shake, and a smile. Stealing boyfriends is on Darcy's list of heartless character traits. Her self-professed greater need for sexual gratification over her best friend's meek libido pretends to validate her actions. Flesh hits flesh when Darcy sets her sites on Rachel's romantically inclined law school classmate Dex (played by Tom Cruise look-alike Colin Egglesfield) at a Manhattan bar where Darcy co-opts Dex's and Rachel's date. Six years later, wedding bells loom large for Dex and Darcy. In this bubble of protracted romantic confusion everyone cheats on the other. If there's a tilt of expectation toward Rachel getting her unstated impractical way with Dex, it comes at a higher cost to her other best friend Ethan (John Krasinski) as the only person around who genuinely cares about her.

Narrative missteps take precedence over calculated surprises. Everything seems designed to distract from the underhanded actions of the material's outwardly attractive characters. Colin Egglesfield may well be a competent actor, but the world will never know. All you see is a guy who looks exactly like Tom Cruise. He'd make a great stand-in for Mr. Cruise, but unless Egglesfield alters his looks in some major way, he's doomed. Colin Egglesfield's casting as the love triangle's object of desire is a deal-breaker.

Supporting characters flit in and out of the overlong movie to drop ill-defined character lines. Dex's millionaire dad Dexter Thaler Sr. (Geoff Pierson) harbors an unspecified prejudice against Rachel as not someone worthy of his son's attention. Daddy's cold judgment dangles over the story like a shadow from an invisible source since he doesn't elaborate on what it is exactly about Rachel that he disdains. Could it be that she's Jewish, and he's an anti-Semite? We don't know. Considering that Rachel and Darcy come from the same economic background, Dexter Sr.'s decree for his son to drop her like a hot potato tromps across the story like a muddy shoe.

Director Luke Greenfield ("The Girl Next Door") relishes filming Manhattan as if it were a meagerly populated city like San Francisco. New York streets and bars are barely crowded. The oh-so-happy urban wonderland atmosphere functions to alleviate the city's intrinsic demand for action from its inhabitants. Rachel and Dex drag out their lame affair for so long that it's impossible to empathize with either character even if you can get past the fact that they are both cheating on Darcy. Some best friend Rachel turns out to be. And what a fine fiancé Dex is.

To say that the characters on display are "cardboard" would be a compliment. Only John Krasinski develops anything mildly resembling a person you'd like to have a beer with. To glorify Rachel as the story's backstabbing protagonist is an irresponsible act of authorship even if her just-deserts-punishment dares to give her what she wishes for. As the old adage goes, "You can't judge a book by its cover." Here you'll have to reach a decision about smiling cute characters without a jot of ethical sense. The filmmakers have already sized up their audience. They seem to think their viewers will be blinded by beauty.

Rated PG. 103 mins. (D+) (One Star - out of five/no halves)

Prom

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Got a Prom Date?
Disney Hopes You Do
By Cole Smithey

What starts out as an all-too-formulaic teen romantic comedy settles into a acceptably recipe-driven think piece on the significance of that milestone social gathering known as "the prom." Seemingly every boy at Brookside High School has the same idea about how to ask his intended date to the upcoming "Starry Night Prom." They spell out "PROM?" in giant letters in a public place and wait patiently for the object of their heart's desire to notice it and answer (in the affirmative, natch).

It doesn't hurt that modern-day youthful versions of John Cusack, Johnny Depp and Ralph Macchio are in attendance. Nolan Sotillo favors Macchio's "Karate Kid" days as Lucas, an all-American boy on the verge of playing varsity football. Lucas has it bad for his romantic classmate Simone (Danielle Campbell). Sadly for Lucas, Simone still has feelings for varsity quarterback Tyler (DeVaughn Nixon). Thomas McDonell falls into the Johnny Depp look-alike camp as brooding bad boy Jesse. It's not much of a surprise when fate brings cynical loner Jesse into a school mandated assignment to help prom-planner Nova Prescott (Aimee Teegarden) rebuild a prom set destroyed by fire. Shock: embers of desire ignite. Finally, Nicholas Braun fills the John Cusack spot (during Cusack's "Say Anything" period) as Lloyd Taylor, a good-looking, well-mannered kid who can't get a date. 

"If I'm about to kiss you, you'll know it." Jesse's cool response to Nova during an almost intimate moment is the kind of cocksure line teen males secret away for use at the right occasion. Maybe the moment will someday come, perhaps it won't. The hope for the romantic certitude it implies will be around for a long time. Love's bloom is a flower that inspires admiration regardless of whether the witness is an active participant or merely an onlooker.

Director Joe Nussbaum ("Sleepover") makes the most of his Jenny and Johnny-come-lately cast of fresh faced young actors. The camera loves the pretty and handsome actors who are never asked to do much more than be themselves from newbie screenwriter Katie Wech's script. Young horror movie aficionados may find their minds wandering to Brian DePalma's "Carrie" during the coronation of the prom king and queen when a similar camera angle reveals the onstage action from above and behind. A neatly designed plot twist follows even if the humiliation that occurs is far less violent than such a horror movie would present.

Every predictable plot point is underlined twice with sincere emotion. Did I mention this isn't novel or original? It doesn't matter. Teen movies like "Prom" are made to let kids know they're not alone in the whirlwind of events and moods they are going through. To that end, "Prom" plays every heartstring like a well-worn melody—a tune that is, after all, classic for a reason.

Rated PG. 103 mins. (B-) (Three Stars - out of five/no halves)

Life as We Know It

Life in the Sinkhole
Hollywood Romantic Comedies Don't Know Where to Begin
By Cole Smithey

Aspiring to combine comedy, tragedy, and romance into a deep-meaning treatise on the prettiest and happiest white people you've ever seen, "Life as We Know It" is less than it pretends to be. Newbie screenwriters Ian Deitchman and Kristin Rusk Robinson are so obsessed with their frat-boy womanizing character Eric "Messer" (Josh Duhamel) that we have to hear "Messer" repeated no fewer than 35 times throughout the film. Monsieur Messer is a broadcast technician for a live television sports show when he isn't chasing anything in a skirt. As best friend to married couple Peter and Alison Novack, Messer goes on a doomed date with the couple's single friend Holly (Katherine Heigl). A car accident creates the inciting incident. Messer and Holly are united as bequeathed legal guardians to the Novack's only daughter Sophie. The duo play house for much too long without broaching the idea that they should get married in order to bring up Sophie in a committed familial atmosphere. Baby-poo-on-Holly's-face humor stubs its toe periodically on strained reaches at sentimentality that leave the movie in a cloud of genre confusion. There isn't enough redeeming entertainment value here to make "Life As We Know It" worth the trouble.

Hollywood romantic comedies have become the bargain basement genre that's like a sinkhole for talent. Katherine Heigl has turned herself into its latest victim by not sticking with the likes of Judd Apatow, with whom she made the hugely successful comedy "Knocked Up." Poor choices like "The Ugly Truth" and "27 Dresses" have left Heigl on wobbly ledge. Josh Duhamel shows up like a younger, more polished version of Johnny Knoxville. He's got an easy movie star quality that's all surface and poker-faced attitude. The clear lack of attraction between the two actors might come as some sort of reprieve if only there was a shred of believability to their perfectly quaffed characters.

Holly owns and runs a pastry shop because that's what all Hollywood romantic comedy women do these days. A would-be emotional moment comes when Holly and Messer wake up in their deceased friends' house after living there for several months to realize that they should redecorate. There's something not entirely right in the construction of the storyline where Peter and Alison perish off screen before the audience has had a chance to sufficiently identify with their characters. Apparently, all we need to know is that baby Sophie is in the hands of two good-looking people who respect but don't like one another. Or is it the other way around?

The trouble is that, although two-years pass, we never see Holly and Messer develop any system of communication and support system that could sustain a parental relationship. Holly has a crush on Sophie's pediatrician Sam (Josh Lucas), who conveniently isn't really man enough to make much of a claim on Holly and Sophie in the face of Messer's big-dog approach to everything. The story splinters off for a sub-plot feint about Sam's and Holly's relationship but nothing is revealed about how they relate on a personal level.The audience is never shown which piece of teetering emotional relationship to invest in. Holly seems to have it made with two hot-shot guys vying for her attention. Messer is satisfied to bed random women he meets with Sophie as his romantic ploy. Baby Sophie becomes a codified message about grown-up interaction. The character archetypes of Holly, Messer, and Sam compete in ways that shut down emotionally. Here's a story bogged down by its unexpressed ideas. Not narratively sturdy enough to support its mishandled strike of tragedy, "Life As We Know It" draws suspicion to its dramatic motives. There's a veneer of insincerity shrink-wrapped over a movie about an inherited responsibility for a child between two glossy caricatures of potential parent material. If this were life as we know it, it would be a good time to move.

Rated PG-13. 113 mins. (D) (One Star - out of five/no halves)

Scott Pilgrim vs. the World

Reel to Video
Video Game Marketing Goes Big Screen
By Cole Smithey

Cinema of the eternally pubescent hits a new low with director/co-writer Edgar Wright's adaptation of Bryan Lee O'Malley's graphic novel. Wright (director of "Shaun of the Dead" and "Hot Fuzz") trades in his hard-earned street credentials for a flagrant sell-out move that promises a reverse transformation from film to video game. Pigeon-holed geek Michael Cera reneges on his threat to retire from acting as Scott Pilgrim, a 22-year-old Toronto serial-dater of underage girls who plays bass in a woefully chic garage band called "Sex Bob-Omb." Scott gets inspired to box within his romantic weight-class when he meets toxic do-wrong-girl Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead). Perpetually masquerading in florescent-colored hair dye, the Ramona character is an obvious knock-off of the bi-polar trollop that Kate Winslet played in "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind."

In order to carry on with his life, much less spend quality time with fickle Ramona, Scott must de facto restore Ramona's tattered virginity by battling her seven former lovers. The filmmakers attempt to camouflage the story's clear video-game aspirations with mugging asides from Scott's oh-so-precious band mates and his fashionably gay roommate (Kieran Culkin doing his best Robert Downey Jr. impression), with whom Scott sleeps in the same bed. Don't ask. Scott's bandmate and former girlfriend Kim (Alison Pill) maintains a constant maniacal glare to show her disapproval of Scott's childish romantic behavior. The actors don't "act" so much as pose with expressionless poker-faces.

In referencing Kurt Vonnegut with its use of the last name of the author's "Slaughterhouse-Five" protagonist Billy Pilgrim, the movie seems to promise some amount of time-shifting social criticism. But it would be a stretch to infer any amount of commentary other than some forced idea that romantic conquest is like a video game.

Scott's 17-year-old Asian girlfriend "Knives" (Ellen Wong) is more of a personal groupie than a romantic interest. Her sycophantic presence is only somewhat less annoying than Ramona's because she at least seems to have a genuine attraction to the ethically challenged Scott.

Redundant complacency sets in with Scott being randomly attacked in public places by Ramona's "evil exes." Pop art styled words like "WHUD" and "CRASH" shatter and blur across the screen during the comic book fight scenes as an off-kilter homage to the '60s "Batman" television series. Kitschy graphics announce things like the level of Scott's bladder as he pees, and the filmmakers wallow in spastic editing and cutesy split-screen visuals to the point of distraction. Quick-flip flashback character introductions for Ramona's exes (that include Brandon Routh and Jason Schwartzman) means that no investment of empathy is demanded of the audience. The mechanical scenario does raise a question about what in Scott's passive/aggressive personality connects him to Ramona's daisy-chain of violent romantic partners, that includes one goth-influenced lesbian. Scott's beef isn't with "the World." It's with his own masochistic need for emotional, physical, and psychological abuse.
 
At best, "Scott Pilgrim vs. the World" is a backwards attempt at disinformation, encouraging a logic of poor character judgment for its intended teen audience. At worst, it is exactly what it appears, a cynical marketing campaign for a video game.

Rated PG. 112 mins. (D) (One Star - out of five/no halves)

Greenberg

Off His Chest
Noah Baumbach Makes Room for the Loony
By Cole Smithey

The post-traumatic stress and economic desolation of 21st century America is filtered through the midlife crisis of Ben Stiller's troubled title character in Noah Baumbach's edgy romantic comedy, a cinematic argument that puts a premium on how we treat one another. There are plenty of laughs to be had--both easy and queasy--as Roger attempts to re-acclimate back to society after a stint in a New York mental hospital. Dedicated to nothing more than his the openly-disclosed purpose of "doing nothing," the medicated Roger Greenberg house-sits at his brother Phillip's (Chris Messina) comfortable Los Angeles home while he  and his wife are vacationing in Vietnam--just because. Troubled by anxiety and afflicted with OCD, Roger slips into a romantic liaison with Phillip’s personal assistant Florence (uninhibitedly played by impressive newcomer Greta Gerwig, previously seen in "The House of the Devil"). Their awkward relationship serves as a sounding board for Roger's fears and seesawing emotional states. It also enables Florence, a force of nature whose self-deprecating needs set up a post-collapse thematic mantra she learned from her singing coach; "hurt people, hurt people." "Greenberg" is about people in so much pain that they can't help but lash out deploying uncontrolled defense mechanisms which belie personal truths they can barely articulate. With “Greenberg” Baumbach and wife/co-story writer Jennifer Jason Leigh have tapped into America's chasm of disbelief. "Greenberg" fearlessly stares into a social abyss that threatens to swallow up a country forced into doing nothing.

Mentally unstable characters are a staple for Noah Baumbach, whose films ("Margot at the Wedding" and "The Squid and the Whale") take an empathetic and humorous approach toward abnormal social behavior. That the filmmaker does so with respectful regard, excludes a tendency toward exploitation--although some might disagree. The elephant in the Greenberg room involves the graphicness of Roger's clumsy seduction of Florence shortly after the two have shared a beer from the same bottle during their first date--in the comfort of her humble living room. In a blink, there's a kiss and Roger disrobes Florence from her snug sports bra and pants to bury his face in her nether regions while she lackadaisically stares up at the ceiling making an abstract comment about trains. The spontaneous scene of acted-on attraction hits you fast, and opens up the film to an impulsive commentary on post-modern relationships. There's danger here. It also identifies the characters as sexual beings who do more than talk. Just as quickly as it began, the love-making falls apart. Neither Florence or Roger have the patience to continue.

Greenberg spends his time building a house for his brother's sickly dog Mahler, when he isn't writing carefully composed complaint letters to companies like American Airlines about a seat that wouldn't recline. He's an impotent critic of society. Coming from a guy who carries the burden of having been responsible for ruining his college rock band's shot at the big time fifteen years earlier--a defining event in his arrested development--we understand Greenberg's nagging need to set things right. On his short list is rekindling a friendship with his ex-girlfriend, Beth (Jennifer Jason Leigh), and former band mate Ivan Schrank (Rhys Ifans). Both Beth and Ivan are married with families. They've moved on with their lives. It's a progression that Greenberg--the aging man-boy--can only approach from his myopic viewpoint. The voices in his head shout so loudly that he isn't able to hear what the people near him are saying about their relation to him. 

"Greenberg" is a meta film that makes its points within the context of a society where everyone is "middle-class" and tragically ignores the desperation that seethes beneath the layers of their I-Phone-Facebook-interaction. Roger Greenberg is a tragic character barely able to maintain any kind of relationship. The degree to which an audience sympathizes or empathizes with him is a self-reflexive proposition. You might watch his behavior and think to yourself that you shouldn't yell at people you care about. You could also watch the film and be inspired to write a 3000-word letter to your boss about how unfair you're treated at work. Sure it'll get you fired, but you'll have something off your chest.   

(Focus Features) Rated R. 107 mins. (B+) (Four Stars - out of five/no halves)

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Our Family Wedding

Stumbling to the Altar
Interracial Marriage Comedy Leaves Both Lawns Bare
By Cole Smithey

Writer/director Rick Famuyiwa's version of interracial marriage is about as much fun as a trip to the dentist. America Ferrara plays Latin hottie Lucia Ramirez to Lance Gross's immaculate picture of moneyed African American perfection. The wedding-bound couple head home to Los Angeles to break the news to their unprepared, and only somewhat racist patriarchs, played by Forest Whitaker and Carlos Mencia. Apparently unfamiliar with the thin-ice romantic comedy genre he skates, the filmmaker relies on unmotivated slapstick set pieces that perpetually fizzle out.

Famuyiwa has put together a competent cast whose nearly developed characters speak lines like, "Once you go black, your credit goes bad." Such stereotypical attitudes are flaunted with a graceless pedestrian sensibility that conflicts with the upper class trappings that both households wear with throwaway assurance. Forest Whitaker's Brad Boyd is a super suave radio announcer whose silken voice attracts women to him like flies at the nightclubs he frequents with an open invitation to "trouble"--namely women young enough to be his daughter. Still, Brad has a special place in his heart for his attorney and longtime pal Angela (Regina King), who helped raise his son Lance after the break-up of his marriage. But neither Whitaker or King have the comic chops to incite more than a momentary chuckle here and there.

The elephant in the room is Carlos Mencia, whose popular television show "Mind of Mencia" proved his brilliant sense of race-inspired physical comedy. As the patriarch of Lucia's family, Mencia's Miguel Rameriez is a family man with a strong sense of tradition and just enough humility to make you like him as a comic character. While the rest of the cast seem under-directed to the point of distraction, Mencia anchors his scenes with droll timing that sporadically brings the film's would-be humorous tone up to pitch. Still, Mencia never gets to let rip the way he consistently did on his television show. You can't help but wonder if the film would have been better had Mencia taken a shot at doctoring the script.

The talented Anjelah Johnson is also squandered. As Lucia's tomboy sister Izzy, Johnson emits an undercurrent of lesbian languor that the director fails to explore. She works at her dad's tow-truck shop and has a habit of stealing scenes from their periphery. Izzy is the one character who seems fully formed, and as such commands an exclusive brand of audience curiosity that keeps you wanting to see her interact more. When Izzy gets shoehorned into the promise of a straight relationship, it feels like the filmmaker is squeezing a square peg into a round hole.

"Our Family Wedding" wants to show how two racially divergent families can open up to one another's culture via the union of their romantically committed offspring. The closest the film comes to achieving its elusive goal is during a softball game where athletic enjoyment supersedes prejudice. It's also the one time in the film where intellectual and physical humor work together in a balance of right and left brain equality. The film's mantra, "Our marriage, their wedding," establishes the agreed-upon parameters of the proceedings. What it misses thematically is how that support system will function after the last wedding party balloon has popped. Ideally, "Our Family Wedding" would be the kind of romantic comedy that a Korean guy could take his Arab fiancée to see so they could laugh and imagine how their untraditional union could last. Unfortunately, this isn't that movie.

(Fox Searchlight Pictures) Rated PG-13 for some sexual content and brief strong language. 101 mins. (C) Two Stars out of 5--no halves)