Film diary

A lot of Assault on Precinct 13’s potential appeal rides on its antihero, Napoleon Wilson (Darwin Joston), but the character just doesn’t get there. All of his sardonic one-liners are limp punch lines in search of a joke, and Joston’s portrayal of him as a notorious, cavalier killer is bland and ineffectual, completely absent the menace he is presumed to possess.

A caricature of creativity.

The three things I find most interesting about Breakfast at Tiffany’s:

1. Made in 1961 at the tail end of the Production Code era, it is fascinating to see the film tiptoe around the fact that its two main characters are essentially prostitutes.
2. Even if one forgives its gobsmacking racism, I can’t begin to imagine how Mickey Rooney’s way-over-the-top slapstick could have been deemed fit for inclusion in this or any other film made for adults.
3. The… See more →

This superfluous sequel to The Trip is distinguished from its predecessor in two ways: 1) The titular road trip swaps northern England for Italy, and 2) Rob Brydon tries his hand at the mid-life crisis Steve Coogan had in the first film. Otherwise, The Trip to Italy is more of the same, and I do mean more. Remember all those celebrity impressions? They were funny, right? Here they are again, seemingly sans editing, driven far… See more →

My five favorite films of 2014, in alphabetical order.

Boyhood

Richard Linklater

In less skilled hands, Boyhood’s twelve years in production might not have amounted to much more than a (very ambitious) stunt, but instead, Richard Linklater’s landmark coming-of-age opus is accessible without being straightforward, and thoughtful without being ponderous. Its 165 minutes are breezy and unrushed, and yet it is over before you know it. I guess kids really do grow up fast.… See more →

There are many enjoyable moments in Inherent Vice’s drug-addled noir, most of them occurring between Joaquin Phoenix’s hippie P.I. and Josh Brolin’s crooked cop. As a whole, though, the stupor the audience is made to share with the protagonist renders the intricacies of the hardboiled plot largely impenetrable. That bewildering effect is fitting but unsatisfying.

Last month I described Birdman – unfavorably – as a “series of carefully scripted temper tantrums meant to embody the struggle of making capital ‘A’ Art.” I wouldn’t have guessed that a short time later, another film fitting that description would knock me on my ass.

Whiplash is a trenchant examination of greatness, approaching the idea not by deconstructing a success story, but instead by observing an integral moment in the life of someone who … See more →

Yowza, this thing stressed me the fuck out.

There’s not enough good stuff here to sustain an entire 75-minute special, but Chelsea generally keeps things moving at a good clip, so the lulls between the more satisfying laughs are never too long, and her style strikes a nice balance between sardonic and wacky, which elevates even her weakest jokes. The writing and directing tries to mess with the traditional standup form by adding lots of weird non-sequiturs – mostly quick, scripted cuts to… See more →

A technically adroit series of carefully scripted temper tantrums meant to embody the struggle of making capital “A” Art, Birdman pays lip service to the nuance that accompanies authenticity, but it tends to make its points as loudly as possible. This is probably about as good as overwrought showbiz navel gazing gets, and it’s still pretty off-putting.