Vivisection

This review is about a romantic comedy.

Wait…Please don’t go.

I know what you’re thinking. I’ve sat through a lot of crap too but trust me this isn’t one of THOSE movies. You gotta remember that those two words can also be used to describe: Annie Hall, Harold & Maude, Buffalo ’66, Punch-Drunk Love & Chasing Amy.

OK. You’ll stay? Thank you. Here we go.

Sorry Zach Braff & Natalie Portman, you have both just been usurped. You are no longer the reigning hipster film couple. That title now belongs to Joseph Gordon-Levitt & Zooey Deschanel the stars of the heartbreaking and touching (500) Days of Summer.

I could spend paragraph upon paragraph discussing the unconventional structure, soundtrack and alienating devices but what’s the point? Even without those elements this would still be a successful film. Strip everything away and it is still an emotionally true and heartfelt story. The film geek stuff is just icing on an already delicious cake.

A Tiger In Your Tank

Last summer I had high expectations for Pineapple Express. I envisioned this magical melding of low-brow Cheech & Chong comedy with beautiful & nuanced mise en scene. What I got instead was this bi-polar over-long mess with sincere intentions yet few big laughs.

Though it is clearly no great piece of art, The Hangover succeeds in many of the ways that Pineapple failed. The title sequence alone shows more skill than Brett Ratner's entire filmography. And fear not - it's funny. Howlingly so. Filthy, dirty jokes done intelligently.

Hopefully this film will lead to Zach Galifianakis overtaking Dane Cook as America's #1 comic. OK. Is that asking too much? How about this: Hopefully this film leads to someone allowing Zach to headline his own film? It'll probably bomb with pop audiences but at least it will exist.

Mortgage Meltdown!

I honestly cannot remember the last time I was excited to see a horror film. Ever since Saw hit in 2004 horror films have grown increasingly more oppressive. Each film trying to out-do the next in terms of sadism and fucked-upedness. Now I’m not saying that films like this are evil “torture porn” and should not exist (I for one enjoyed both of the Hostel films) but what I am saying is a little variety never hurt anyone.

Thank God for Sam Raimi! After six years of being caught up in all things web-head, Mr. Raimi has returned to the genre that made him a star with subtly titled – Drag Me To Hell. If you like BIG scares, BIG laughs and people getting hit on the head with BIG anvils this is the movie for you. Yep that’s right – comedy in a horror film! Not since Slither have I laughed so much (with not at) a horror film.

Watching this film makes me yearn for more Raimi-horror. I want more floating possessed people, more geysers of blood and more 1973 Oldsmobile Delta 88s. Unfortunately we’re gonna have to sit through another Spider-Man film before we get there. But at least it’s good to know that the home fires are still burning.

This Is Not The Future My Mother Warned Me About

As far as genres go, the action film is arguably the oldest (does documentary count as a genre?). Films like The Life of an American Fireman and The Great Train Robbery were trailblazers that pushed the limits of what the medium was capable of. Multiple shots, parallel action, etc. were all techniques pioneered in action films.

Unfortunately in the intervening years, action films have fallen behind the curve. Nowadays all the great innovations come from art films with action playing catch-up. The best example of this is McG’s latest opus Terminator Salvation.

While the film was still in production Mr.G (?) describe his ambition thusly: an action film shot like Children of Men. That simple statement sent many people's interest in the film from -5 to 2. Perhaps this film would amount to more than cinematic a get rich quick scheme. Sadly that is not the case.

While Señor G’s film is extremely successful stylistically, it is as empty as a Madoff investor’s bank account when it comes to content. What we get instead is an unfocused narrative about freedom (maybe?) and humanity (possibly?) filled with elements from other more successful action films. Giant Transformer robots, Road Warrior car chases and grease smeared little girl who wants to be Newt from Aliens.

Great sci-fi makes leaves audiences filled with questions about life, the universe and everything. This film leaves audiences wondering why Christian Bale thought this film was important enough to go ape-shit on a DP over?

Warp Speed!

I've tried to write this review at least 10 times and have had zero success. I've tried making it about franchise revival, I've tried to make it about the increased pop acceptance of all things nerd, I've even tried to make it about cinema structure. All of these have been miserable failures.

Maybe I'm trying too hard. Maybe I should simplify. OK Craig. I one sentence describe the new Star Trek movie.

Star Trek is...FUN!

Sure you can gripe about the fairly non-sensical plot, or how it plays fast and loose with the mythology, but in the end it comes down to that one word - Fun. This movie is one hell of a wild ride with a strong emphasis on character. Oh and did I mention all the people are pretty too?

For my money this is THE tent pole of the summer. If you haven't seen it yet I suggest you get your butt to a theater and strap in.

May you live long and prosper.

"Back home, cats don't talk."

This year is going to be a big one for the best animated feature category at the Oscars. We're going to have a new Pixar film (Up), a new Miyazaki film (Ponyo on the Cliff), Wes Anderson's animation debut (The Fantastic Mr. Fox), etc. and a creepy morality play from his good friend Henry Selick known as Coraline. Though in the end only three films will make the cut (I don't know why they don't open it up to five nominees) I'm going to go on the record and say that Coraline will make the cut.

Based on a book by Neil Gaiman, Coraline tells the rather simple story of a girl who doesn't appreciate the life she has. Of course we know where this is going. She'll somehow or other find her way to a world that fills all of her wildest dreams only to discover that there's no place like home. Tale as old as time. So what makes Coraline worth it then?

Henry Selick.

Henry Selick is a wizard like no other. Sure Monkeybone was a steaming heap but The Nightmare Before Christmas along with James and the Giant Peach are wonders to behold. Like no other he can take another artist's world (ie: Burton, Dahl & Gaiman) and make it uniquely his own. He can out auteur an auteur and that is no easy feat. Coraline is dazzling, funny and scary all at the same time. Few artists out there are able to strike so many chords.

Pixar already has awards up the wazoo as does the honorable Miyazaki-san. I think this year it's time for Henry to take his place among giants.

Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Watchmen Movie

9 times out of 10, trash literature makes for the best cinema. It is infinitely easier to add depth to something shallow than to subtract it from something deep. In order to fit a classic work into an acceptable run time something has to give. Apparently nobody told this to the makers of Watchmen.

Though the presence of brightly colored costumes and giant squids might lead you to believe otherwise, Watchmen is a dense, dense read. Its' ideas about love, war and heroism require time to digest. But in the filmic incarnation there is simply no time to digest anything. It's the cinematic equivalent of racing through the Louvre...with fight scenes!

OK. Now I know the above statement comes off pretty harsh, but believe me this isn't a call to gang up on Zack Snyder. The sequence about Dr. Manhattan's origin as well as Rorschach's psych evaluation are both devastatingly effective. You feel his reverence for the material in every frame. You can tell that he understands the ideas that are at play. He was simply crushed under the sheer volume of them.

For years people will debate how the material might have been better served by flimmaker X,Y and Z but there's really no point. This is the movie we got so suck it up. Homeboy did as good a job as anyone could have.  No filmmaker, no matter how great, would have been able to make a film that satisfied everyone (though I will admit that most anyone could have made better use of music).

Now let's put all of our petty grievances aside and unite in fear of the cinematic squid creature known as Uwe Boll who threatens to attack our collective good taste at any minute.

Catch you in the funny papers.

"It doesn't matter what I think. It doesn't matter what I feel. The dead are still dead."

Most people already had an opinion about The Reader before a single frame of film had been screened. Whispers about behind the scenes politicking have been filling the blogosphere since early fall. Add to that the fact that many feel this film "stole" The Dark Knight's best picture nom and you have a pretty stacked deck. But in the end what is truly important is one simple question:

Is it best picture material?

My answer quite bluntly is NO. Now this is not to say that the film is completely devoid of admirable qualities. The cinematography is beautiful, the direction is assured and the performances (especially that of Kate Winslet) are astounding. So what is it then that trips such a potent blend of positives? One word - structure.

The latter half of the film is far superior to the first half. The first half is 100% exposition - a screenwriter's nightmare. Sure they have hot naked flesh to keep asses in seats, but other than that it is a rather hollow experience.

You can tell they knew this was a bit of a problem. The film's opening scene sets up a mystery in order to make the audience want to sit through the next hour, they even employ occasional flash forwards, but in the end it all results in making that first hour all the more agonizing. You just want it to be over so that you can find out what is going on at the start.

Once the film gets down to the brass tacks of dealing with the Holocaust and morality it becomes a whole new ball game. There are deep philosophical questions being addressed and I feel the film does an able job of grappling with them. There are no easy answers and that is what makes for great drama.

So why not just cut out that whole first part and make the film focus on the latter half? Because it's necessary. As dull as that first half is, it provides us with essential information towards understanding what occurs in the latter half. So what then could have been done? Should this film not even have been attempted?

No. I think there's a great film laying in there somewhere. It just needed some more time in the editing room to figure out all those structuring problems. Too bad someone rushed it through post. Oops! There I go bickering about studio politics.

Mahalo

Paper Heart

Last night my fiance and I got to see a test screening of Paper Heart staring comedian/musician Charlyne Yi (the awkward Asian girl from Knocked Up). The film is a faux-documentary which follows Yi across the country as she interviews people about love. Along the way she strikes up a romanitc relationship with Michael Cera. The result is Borat mixed with When Harry Met Sally...

This film is definitely not for everyone. If you are already predisposed to dislike cute/awkward hipster kids then there is no way that you will like this film. The audience is very niche. I hope that they don't try to market it to the Knocked Up and Superbad crowd. I heard many pissed off bros as I left the theatre. This is much more for the Napoleon Dynamite and Juno crowd.

What really holds this film together is Charlyne. She successfully takes a character (or is that really her?) that most people would categorize as asexual, and makes you see the yearning for connection which lies underneath. She wears her paper heart on her sleeve. Even in completely contrived situations you cannot help but feel for her.

Oh and those kids in Atlanta are priceless.

Let It Bleed

Randy “The Ram” Robinson is a professional wrestler way past his prime, living in a trailer, estranged from his daughter and enamored with a local stripper. Oh and did I mention that he has a weak heart that could kill him if he ever enters the ring again? On paper The Wrestler should so not work. It reeks of 1,001 crappy films you’ve seen before – yet miraculously it soars right over the ropes.

Mickey Rourke’s performance as Randy is the perfect melding of actor and role. When Randy bluntly states that the “90s sucked” you are acutely aware that they also sucked for Rourke who in 1991 left Hollywood for the boxing ring. After five years of floundering, Rourke finally returned to acting only to find that a lot had changed. What was once beefcake had turned into a slab of beef. Rourke’s road back to the limelight has been long and hard and it shows in every frame. He bleeds both emotion and the red stuff. Combine this with Marissa Tomei’s stellar turn as past her prime stripper Cassidy, and you get a portrait of truly heartbreaking humanity.

With such stellar acting on display some directors might opt to stand back and just let things run on autopilot. Fortunately Darren Aronofsky is not that type of director. If it seems as though he has ditched all of the stylish flourishes he’s famous for in favor of a documentary approach you aren’t looking close enough. No documentarian could ever be this lucky. Whether it’s following behind Ram as he enters the ring or zeroing in on Cassidy as she has a personal revelation, the camera is always in precisely the right spot for maximum subjectivity. Aronofsky makes the intensely planned look effortless. He is the real deal and so is this film.

Pubescent Vampire Angst

Want to play a game? Let’s say you’re at the mall, and someone approaches you about attending an advanced screening of a film. They cannot tell you the title but they describe it as: an adaptation of a popular book about a relationship between an adolescent and a vampire. What do you do? If you say yes you might have just condemned yourself to 2 hours of allegorical abstinence schmaltz. Say no and you could be missing out on a highly nuanced film about love and loneliness. What do you do?

Like most great genre films Let The Right One In is about much more than blood sucking. This restrained creep-fest could also be at home on a shelf next to Harold and Maude. Two characters, both decidedly out of step with “normal” society, coming together as an off-beat couple for the ages. No matter how weird or unlovable you might think you are, there is someone out there for you. Did I mention the title comes from a Morrissey song? Who would have guessed?

So what about the scares? Is this just touchy-feely stuff about lost souls finding each other? Oh no no no. This film delivers the chills too. Shot in a very objective and utilitarian manner, this film allows the scares to really creep up on you. Many of the most gruesome moments occur either out of frame or in wide shots with cleverly placed shadows and branches. Mood and sound provide a starting point from which your imagination can run wild.

Sadly this film was overlooked by the Golden Globes and The Academy will likely do the same. Genre always has to battle a hard road for acceptance. But trust me, it is no fluke that this film has already won 18 awards worldwide. A film like this is something to be treasured. So the next time someone invites you to go see a vampire movie - agree without reservation. It could be shit but it could also be gold.

They said I was gonna die soon but, maybe not.

Traditionally music video directors do not make great filmmakers. While they have an extremely strong sense of image, they often come up short in story sense. Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. One notable exception to this rule is David Fincher.

With films like Se7en and Fight Club, Mr. Fincher has distinguished himself as a filmmaker who in has a strong aesthetic AND something to say about the darkness in man's soul. His newest film, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, makes a noble effort at augmenting that worldview with something a little bit more hopeful.

On this outing, darkness is relegated almost exclusively to the gorgeous cinematography. For the first time ever, a David Fincher film is able to illicit both tears and heartwarming laughter. The quirky characters Benjamin comes across on his journeys are a hoot and watching him and Daisy drift apart is heart wrenching. Fincher ably proves his ability to direct scenes about real humans. So then what's the problem?

While the film's effects are stunning and will surely rack up a few awards, they also provide a sort of hindrance. Though a good majority of these technical miracles serve to tell the story, some only succeed in distracting the viewer. If you're busy trying to figure out how an effect was achieved, you're not paying attention to the story.

The other problem is a bit larger and comes in the form of a framing device that never really clicks. What was the purpose of setting these scenes during Hurricane Katrina? Was it simply because the film is set in New Orleans? Or is it meant to enhance the film's 'death theme'? Juxtaposing an individual's death with that of a city? Whatever the reason, it does not come across. Maybe we'll eventually get a director's cut that will make more sense.

In the end The Curious Case of Benjamin Button belongs to a proud line of flawed masterpieces. Movies with great potential and a lot to love, that for one reason or another come up short. Yet even in its' flawed state, this film has more to offer than 80% of the dreck out there. A very commendable effort. Who knows - maybe it will get better with age.

Get Off My Lawn!

With award season in full swing, everyone is making predictions. Will Brad finally get one? How about Anne? A second one for Sean Penn? Lots of great actors gave attention getting performances this year. So who am I putting my money on? This guy -

Now I know that at first blush this prediction appears to stink with the same stench that gave Al Pacino a golden boy for Scent of a Woman over Denzel Washington in Malcolm X. I'll admit that when I first started hearing Clint's name bandied about I had similar thoughts. Oh they're just gonna give it to him because he's never won one for acting and this might be his last performance. It'll be like when Paul Newman won for The Color of Money. All of that changed last night when I saw Gran Torino.

In the hands of a lesser man this could have been sub-par Archie Bunker. With Eastwood it becomes a tour de force. Walter Kowalski is the role Clint was born to play. While "The Man With No Name" and Harry Callahan are great iconic manifestations of cool and badassery, this role really and truly bleeds.

The performance walks a delicate line and could have easily descended into self parody. Oh it's Dirty Harry Callahan starring in Grumpy Old Men. Fortunately Clint stopped making that kind of shit with Space Cowboys and Blood Work. In one scene he will make you laugh in shock at the horrible things coming out of his mouth, and in the next you are moved by the rage and sadness behind those legendary squinted eyes.

Since Mystic River he has been driving hard like a man on a mission. Twice in the last five years he has released two films within months of each other. Momentum like that has to be building towards something. I feel that something is this role. After this Clint never needs to act again. There is nothing left to prove. This is the cinematic equivalent of going down in a blaze of glory and it's so beautiful to watch.

You Say You Want A Revolution?

If you put any two objects in close enough proximity to each other, they cease to be two objects. As legendary filmmaker and theorist Sergei Eisenstein put it, "each sequential element is perceived not next to the other, but on top of the other". It creates a cumulative effect. Your perception of one alters your perception of the other. You become acutely aware of the similarities and differences. This is precisely the dialectic at work in Stephen Soderbergh’s 4 ½ hour, 2-part epic on the life of Ernesto “Che” Guevara.

The first film, entitled The Argentine, focuses exclusively on Che’s involvement with the Cuban Revolution. Though the film is about revolution and takes many of its cues from legendary films on the subject (Soy Cuba, Z, The Battle of Algiers, etc) it comes off as much less dogmatic than other films of that sort. This is the result of the objective Brechtian style Soderbergh employs. This allows the audience to stand back from both action and ideas. They get to take everything in and evaluate it for themselves.

It is fascinating to see how something which began as small talks among expats in Mexico, lead directly to a new regime taking power in Havana. And over the course of that journey we get to watch Benicio Del Toro transform from an asthmatic Argentinian doctor into the quintessential symbol of rebellion. The performance is nothing short of spiritual possession. As exhilarating as the victory in Cuba is, it is underscored with a knowledge of all that will follow.

Though it starts out like The Argentine with a small band of idealistic and dedicated rebels coming together for a cause, Guerilla quickly devolves into an example of how badly things can go wrong. The film is a much more morbid affair than it's counterpart. It plays like a Sam Peckinpah western where death hangs in the air throughout. Like the band of outlaws in The Wild Bunch, they are doomed yet continue.

While Guerilla does have some drag late in the second act, it very quickly regains its footing for the very emotional and inevitable climax. Thanks to the Soderbergh's use of the Red One camera, Che's capture and execution become some of the most beautiful moments in an already exquisitely beautiful film.

Some have blasted the film for its' treatment of the politics. The lefties want it to be a recruitment film and conservatives want it to demonize Che, yet the film does neither. That is because this film is not about politics.

Take away all the guns and fatigues and this is could be the story of any maverick filmmaker's career. The great early success coupled with the disaster plagued dream production that never gets off the ground. But even that analogy isn't completely apt because in the end, this is simply a film about a man. A man who believed in something so completely he was willing to fight for it - to the death.

Hasta La Victoria Siempre!

It's A Hard Knock Life

Imperialism never ends in a clean break. Though 60 years have elapsed since India declared independence from Britain, both sides are still feeling the cultural impact of the other. Thus, Indians follow cricket and London is a great place to go for a curry. This symbiotic relationship is what allows a film like Slumdog Millionaire to work.

Set in the slums of Mumbai and directed by an immensely talented Scotsman; Slumdog tells the surprisingly moving (though somewhat improbable) story about how far love and street smarts can take you. This film is alive like nothing since City of God. The colors pop, the music pulses and it is all in the service of moving your heart.

This is the best type of escapism. It pulls no punches. It depicts a truly cruel world that needs to be escaped from. Murder, torture, prostitution, etc. Our hero Jamal never gives up hope. This film is most definitely going to be this year's "little movie that could" (a la Little Miss Sunshine and Juno) and I could not possibly be any happier.

"My name is Harvey Milk and I'm here to recruit you!"

In early 2007, there were two Harvey Milk bio-pics in development. One was titled The Mayor of Castro Street with Bryan Singer attached to direct. The other was simply titled Milk, with Gus Van Sant at the helm. With the threat of a writers’ strike looming, both projects took a ‘now or never’ approach and were moving forward at full speed. When the strike hit in early November, only Milk had a completed screenplay. THANK GOD!

Now don’t get me wrong. Bryan Singer is a very talented filmmaker and I am really looking forward to Valkyrie. It’s just that I cannot possibly conceive of ANYONE making a better Harvey Milk film than the one currently in theaters.

On a narrative level Milk is your average bio-pic. Dustin Lance Black’s screenplay hits all the standard sign posts (framing device, heavy foreshadowing, touching ending, etc.) but on a stylistic level this film is far from standard. Techniques commonly used to generate either empty excitement (Guy Ritchie) or intellectual alienation (Jean-Luc Godard), are here employed to bring the audience further into the narrative.

This film allows you inside the moments that formed and defined Harvey Milk. The moments no documentary crew could ever conceive of capturing. You witness the passion and tenderness of his courtship with Scott. You feel his anguish over another lover's sudden departure. You even get to be there for Harvey’s most private moment - his last breath. The sense of intimacy is awesome.

Gus Van Sant and his team deserve every bit of praise coming their way. They did the impossible. They were able to make a film that is both conventional and experimental, educational yet entertaining. And most miraculously, they made a film about a tragedy that still gives you hope. And in times like these, we all need a little hope.

Please go see this film.

…just not at a Cinemark© theater ( http://nomilkforcinemark.com/ )

We're Doing It!

Last night I went and saw Zack and Miri Make a Porno. Today I have a sinus headache. As a result I’m having trouble formulating all my different ideas about the film into one intelligent and coherent review. So here’s the basics…

I really enjoyed the film. It was awesomely funny and also rather sweet. There are a few points where the sweet almost tips the scale into schmaltz territory but those moments are few and far between AND a great funny line always comes along to restore balance to the force. If you like Kevin Smith’s stuff you will love this film. If you don’t like Kevin Smith stuff you still might like this film. It’s a cute date movie. Go give it a try.

Here are some aborted attempts at introductory paragraphs and angry rants:

Many reviews of this film have spoken about the synergistic relationship between Kevin Smith and Judd Apatow. They mention how Kevin’s early films lead the way for Judd who in turn made the whole obscene/touching dynamic commercially viable with hits like The 40-Year-Old Virgin and Knocked Up. While all of this is true, it must be noted that before Kevin Smith...there was another. “Pope of Trash” John Waters has made a career out of films about a scrappy bands of outsiders and it is in that tradition which Zack and Miri Make a Porno finds itself firmly placed.

Kevin Smith’s films exist along a spectrum. At one extreme you have Chasing Amy and at the other you have Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back. Aside from a few shared characters and verbal rhythms, the films could not be further apart. One is a nuanced meditation on love and sex, while the other is a broad slapstick cartoon. Located precisely in the middle of these two poles, is Zack and Miri Make a Porno.

The following are excerpts from Lisa Schwarzbaum’s review of Zack and Miri Make a Porno for Entertainment Weekly:

“…a visual eyesore, as if compositional coherence signifies selling out to the man.”

“…an intimate scene that even bad cinematography can’t ruin…”

I seriously feel that Ms. Schwarzbaum was watching an entirely different film than the one I saw last night. Cinematographer David Klein, working in harmony with production designer Robert Holtzman, created a wonderful dirt-smeared palette which perfectly compliments the film’s ‘down on your luck’ vibe.

And as for accusations of shoddy composition? I do not see how this film is any worse compositionally than 90% of the dreck unspooling on screens every week. I’m not saying that it is Antonioni-esque or anything, but it is also extremely far from compositional incoherence.

I’d be interested to see how many film reviews by Ms. Schwarzbaum over the last 15 years have included the word “composition”. Something tells me not many, and the few that do are probably Kevin Smith movies.

I get that she didn’t like the film, but why does she have to rely on old "truisms" that are no longer true? Sure Kevin had less than stellar meis en scene when he started, but after working with the likes of Vilmos Zsigmond can you really still make such claims? It comes off as reaching.

Hopefully reading all of these disparate parts in quick succession will give some semblance of what I would have said in an actual review. Time for Advil.

Hee Hee. This is my 69th blog post.

What's Yr Take on Cassavetes?

If you have ANY interest in/appreciation of fine acting or great cinema, you NEED to see –

“A Woman Under The Influence”

I don’t care what certain members of Le Tigre say. Mr. Cassavetes is in no way a misogynist. This is a story about people doing the best they can to handle a situation they don’t really understand. Of course characters are going to do and say horrible things. That’s life and that’s what John was trying to capture.

Gena Rowlands’ performance is one for the ages. Every line, every gesture, every panicked look comes from a real and honest place. She really should have won that Oscar® (though Ellen Burstyn was pretty damn good in “Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore” as well). John crafted her the perfect role and she played it to the hilt.

Definitely not a Saturday night date movie, but essential viewing none the less.

Can We All Do This Together?

Back in the mid to late 90s the Dogme 95 movement was all the rage. Developed by Danish filmmakers Lars Von Trier and Thomas Vinterberg, the movement and its’ “Vow of Chastity” (http://www.dogme95.dk/the_vow/vow.html) attempted to return filmmaking to what they saw as its’ pure state – telling stories about human beings.

In spite of great successes with films like “The Celebration” and “Julien Donkey-Boy”, the movement eventually petered out in the early 2000s. Both the world and the filmmakers had grown tired of shaky-camera melodramas.

What a difference 5 years makes.

Shot on hand-held digital video with an incidental soundtrack, Jonathan Demme’s “Rachel Getting Married” is shaping up to be one of the better pictures of the year.

While some might try to label it as such, the film’s style is far from a "gimmick". The film tells a story that is both beautiful and ruthless, which the cinematography reflects perfectly. Just as a scene can rapidly transition from heartbreaking to joyous, so too can the visuals switch from fluorescent jaundice to the most vivid and warm palette you can imagine.

Let us also not forget the performers who made this all possible. They are the ones who are able to make a conversation switch on a dime from cutting brutality to blissful hugging. Though Anne Hathaway will deservedly receive a huge amount of praise (and probably an Oscar® nomination) for her un-glamorous portrayal of recovering junkie Kym, we should not forget the rest of the cast. In moments both light and dark, everyone gets a chance to shine and they are all superb.

Last but most certainly not least, praise must be heaped upon screenwriter Jenny (daughter of Sidney) Lumet. Her screenplay is messy in the best way possible. It is content to leave some things unresolved and to ramble like her characters speak - with intense emotion and conviction.

Don’t be afraid.

This film knows where it's going and you really should come along.

PS: Roger Corman has a blink and you miss it cameo. Perhaps this is a sign from the gods that this will finally be Roger's year to get an honorary Oscar®.

*fingers crossed*

Another day to live through. Better get started.

What is it like to be the last man on earth?

Over the years, many films, books and comics have wrestled this particular question. My particular favorite exploration is Brian K. Vaughan and Pia Guerra's epic comic book series "Y: The Last Man" which I highly recommend to anyone and everyone.

Another staple of the "genre" is Richard Matheson's 1954 novel entitled "I Am Legend". Though famously molded into a Will Smith vehicle last year, this book had already been adapted twice before. Last night I had the pleasure of watching the original, unambiguously titled, 1964 adaptation - "The Last Man on Earth".

Vincent Price's voice is a thing to behold. It's capable of sending tingles down your spine (reciting Edgar Allen Poe's "The Raven") as well as making you want to get your groove on ("rapping" at the end of Michael Jackson's "Thriller"). Though clearly best suited for talking pictures, Price could have easily been a star of the silent screen.

Outside of voice-over narration and the above pictured attempt at radio communication, the first roughly 15 minutes of the film are dialogue free. When you're "The Last Man on Earth" there's not really much need for talking. As a result of disembodying voice from action, the audience is able to better appreciate Price's skilled physicality. With nothing more than posture and a hang dog expression Vincent communicates the extreme loneliness and boredom of Robert Morgan's predicament. The performance is sheer brilliance.

Unfortunately the rest of the film does not live up to the promise of the first third. Once dialogue enters the equation 90% of the film's energy vanishes. Director Ubaldo Ragona suddenly seems content to let the dialogue do all of the storytelling. Le sigh.

It's an interesting catch-22: Without the first act the film is a perfectly watchable (though standard) Vincent Price creep-fest, with the first act it becomes a flawed masterpiece. Is it better to strive for greatness and fall short or to simply be content with mediocrity? Personally I find myself in the 'strive for greatness' camp.

Though I've always loved Vincent Price, I never really took him that seriously. He was always great for creepy/campy fun but nothing more. If it weren't for the opening of "The Last Man on Earth" that would have still been the case. Thank you Robert Morgan.