28 Weeks Later

28 weeks after the beginning of 28 days later (which would make it 224 days after the first infection, but that just isn’t as catchy enough a title) all the zombies- ehr, infected- have starved and died out. A repopulation effort begins, spearheaded by the US military, in a cordoned-off area of London. Of course, it goes to hit and the infection starts up again and you get hordes of infected running around acting all spooky and feral and eating non-infected repatriates and soldiers alike, and a small group of people band up to survive both them and the US military, who are trying to contain the spread of the infection.
Extremely visceral and surprisingly intelligent, I have to admit I liked this movie much better than I liked the first part (which I liked a great deal). It goes out in all sort of random, wonderfully unexpected ways; the characters, while stereotypical, have unexpected reactions which make them feel very well rounded out and involving; it’s got flat out great action scenes which don’t work against the horror and suspense, and it’s the rare kind of horror movie that actually works for its scares. Oh, it sneaks in some biting political commentary, and the gore is pretty magnificent.
And yes, most of the action scenes are muddied up with trendy, overly jumpy editing. And you could say the three standout scenes are a bit derivative, (the best scene, and first runner up for Best. Use. Of. Helicopter. Ever., was used in a throwaway line in the book World War Z, and the other two are a bit too close to Creep and The Descent for comfort), and that the script has a few holes here and there. (Nothing major, though) But it’s still a thrill to see a movie that not only uses something a bit more elaborate than the cheap shocks and gross-outs most horror movies these days manage, but isn’t afraid to evoke grander things- be it as large as parallels with a certain current middle eastern conflict, or as small and intimate as the way guilt makes us desire to violently put out an accusing stare- even after we’ve been undeservedly forgiven.

Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End

Dead Man’s chest came out while this blog was on hiatus, so let’s get it out of the way: it was one of the best movies last year. Incredibly fun, imaginative, smart and perversely unpredictable, it also had that elusive quality movie theorists like to call balls – making it all the more unbelievable it had come from the toxic bowels of both Disney and Jerry Bruckenheimer. It was shot concurrently with the third part of the (so far) trilogy, and has spent most of the year since in post production. (Judging by the end product, the script was written during that time too, but more on that later)

So it’s fair to say my expectations ran very high, especially after watching the excellent trailer (a cannon fight OVER A FUCKING MAELSTROM- holy fucking shit!) It’s also fair to say the final film not only didn’t live up to its promise, it’s also a crap movie on its own right. Messy and lackluster in almost every respect, it manages to miss everything the previous installments nailed just right, and indulges in their worst excesses.

The plot, such as it is, follows the rescue of Jack Sparrow from the land of the dead (or Davey Jones locker), pirate politics, and the subsequent showdown between pirates and the forces of modernism and civilization. It also tries, but not too hard, to tie up the impossibly high number of loose ends from Dead Man’s Chest. Sounds exiting, right? Well, looks like it didn’t to anyone involved, so they spent more time thinking up wacky stuff for Johnny Depp’s Jack Sparrow than developing the script.
I mean hell, I like Jack Sparrow as much as anyone else- his first entry in Pirates of the Caribbean is probably the best character introductions since the Dude Lebowski - but it was always understood that it needed to be dosed carefully… well, until this film, that is. They’ve got Geoffrey Rush as Barbossa – a great character that could easily drive the whole movie if they needed a main character, (and remember Dead Man's Chest didn't, through skillful storyline juggling) but he’s relegated here to be the straight man for gags that I wouldn’t be surprised to find out were improvised by a stoned Johnny Depp. And when he’s not providing angry reaction shots, he’s spewing important-sounding bullshit to cover up for plot holes. Actually, that describes most of the dialog in the movie. But it’s that kind of careless pandering to audiences that sinks the flick; save for the first few minutes it feels, and this wasn't the case in any of its prequels, like Disney and Bruckenheimer had an active voice in it. It feels like a committee movie.

So we get an overdose of all things Sparrow, but unfunny. We get lame slapstick and gags that are taken just a bit too long- Just count the number of animal reaction shots or cutesy gimmicks like Jack’s father. We also get characters we couldn’t give a shit about and major plot elements that are pulled out of nowhere (and that are dropped before they go anywhere) – and that might be the most puzzling thing in this movie; I mean, I could understand it on the second one, it was a sequel to a movie that didn’t really leave room for one, but for fuck’s sake- these last two were written at the same time! A couple of major plot lines not only don’t really make sense, they also turn out to be completely unnecessary and are forgotten and left unresolved halfway through. And forget about character attachment- they are either too busy explaining the plot dramatically enough to fool people, or making decisions which are so random one wonders if they’re not rolling dice to see what they do next.

What the hell happened? I can take a couple of guesses. Dead Man’s chest began with a crow pecking out a corpse’s eyes, and it’s a smart, complex film. I can see how that would give a Disney exec a heart attack, and lead to the studio forcing their standards on Verbinski and the scriptwriters to make this piece of shit under legal threat.
Time is also undoubtedly a factor here- either all the good stuff was left on Dead Man’s Chest, or the two-films at a time thing was all a hoax and this movie was indeed written and made in this last year or so. I could also blame CGI, I dunno. (It would explain Orlando bloom, at least…)
Finally, it could be that Verbinski and Co. fucked up. It could happen.

There are some saving graces to the movie. It’s telling it has striking images which display an incredible visual imagination. (Which I’d attribute to Verbinski; most of them are shamefully squandered in the trailer) It’s also worth noting that unlike in the previous two installments, where a sequence would start being amazing and end up being stunning through unexpected developments and wit, here they fall through almost instantaneously without a script to prop them up.
I also liked that a theme running subtly through the previous movie was picked up and pushed to the forefront- that the positive aspects of piracy, the freedom, mysteriousness and adventure of it are only possible at the fringes of civilization; it’s hammered home too soon, too often and too obviously, and it’s also lifted directly from some of the best westerns, but hey- I still like it.
And whoever thought of the whole worthless oriental angle (poor Chow Yun Fat is woefully underused- this movie demanded full on wuxia action, dammit!) still deserves a raise, simply because it allowed them to cram Keira Knightley into all sorts of tight oriental costumes.

But yeah, all in all, it sucks pretty bad.

The DaVinci Code

Against all my instincts and better judgment, I finally caved in and went to see the bad boy of religious thriller adaptations. Expectations were about as low as expectations can get, but holy shit- The flick still fell well beneath them. Pretentious, dull, stupid and contrived, it doesn’t even do right by the conspiracy theories that it plunders shamelessly to use in its unimaginative pastiche.

Tom Hanks stars as a scholar specializing in symbols who gets caught up in the titular code, a series of puzzles and plot contrivances that point to forbidden knowledge that theoretically could shake the foundations of organized religion. Soon he’s running for his life with a cop, (the beautiful Audrey Tatou) dodging a deranged killer albino monk (no, it’s not as good as it sounds) and a driven French police chief. Shadowy plots, unbelievable coincidences and ludicrous plot twists- plausibility is lost without a trace close to the beginning, and never even threatens with a comeback.
At least it solves the age old problem of translating an exposition-heavy book to the big screen. You have people talk about what’s happening at the slightest chance! All the time! You cut that with stupid action sequences, and then start again. (To be honest, I think that’s an inherited problem with the book, but since I haven’t read it I won’t go into that). Still, you’d think that the director of the beautifully brutal, laconic The Missing would have known that it was a bad idea. There are no characters, only exposition pieces- events don’t happen because they make sense, they serve to propel the characters to the next shitty revelation so that they can then narrate it in excruciating detail. This comes to a head in a hilariously ridiculous bad guy monologue that would put any Bond Villain to shame.
The film also shows off at every chance an undeservedly (and unnecessarily) high budget; in an attempt to make all the exposition more palatable to the audience it obviously considers only marginally more cogent than slugs, every exposition piece inevitably turns into a CGI bonanza.

All for what? Is the final revelation worth it all? Was Jesus gay? What the fuck is it that has the whole religious community in an uproar?
The revelation, when it comes, is underwhelming- least of all because if you know anything about conspiracy theories, you already know all about it (and probably more than Dan Brown). But beyond that, it’s just a different shade the official story, superstitious as the original. Not even a gesture at challenging the status quo (at least, not a significant effort by this century’s standards). Enough to get idiots who actually believe in the sanctity of these fairy tales all riled up, but frankly, it’s not even worth spoiling.

Coffee and cigarettes

A collection of shorts shot over a long period of time, Jim Jarmusch's Coffee and cigarettes explores how different people interact in any social situation where, well, coffee and cigarettes are the centerpiece of the table.
It's terribly uneven, as it might be expected; sometimes the acting is atrocious, some of the dialogs feel forced (all risks of heavy improvisation), and by the middle of the movie one's tempted to fast forward a chapter or two. But most of the shorts are at least worth watching, and all but a couple ring uncomfortably true. There are at least half a dozen absolutely brilliant segments to be found.

The way uncomfortable situations are portrayed is excellent- both funny and chilling; Iggy Pop and Tom Waits meet up, expecting to find common ground in the fact that they're both rock icons (they don't, sort of); Two friends find there might be a bit more distance than they suspected between them in the excellent "No Problem"; Steve Coogan and Alfred Molina, in possibly the best short, overturn each other's expectations. Kate Blanchett plays herself and her cousin, in which recriminations are half-uttered and go unresolved in a very realistic way. There are also some fun, silly bits- the White Stripes test a Tesla coil, Steven Wright and Roberto Benigni exchange a dentist appointment, and two members of the Wu-Tang Clan run into Bill Murray disguised as a waiter. By last third of the film, patterns have begun to emerge; snatches of conversation are repeated, and concepts are rehashed. There's no revelation, no eureka moment, but by the time two weary old men try to stretch out a smoke break and one of them begins finding something important in idle conversation, the emotional impact is deep and undeniable.
Far from flawless, Coffee and Cigarettes is still an extremely rewarding movie from one of the better directors out there.

Gozu

If there's one thing you can count on Takashi Miike to do, it's to provide truly bizarre filmmaking. He's outdone himself with Gozu, though.

After increasingly erratic behavior (which includes a hilarious attack on a Pomeranian dog, whom he insists is really a yakuza-eating pooch), Yakuza goon Ozaki proves to be too much of a liability for his organization. The boss orders Minami, another goon who happens to be best friends with Ozaki, to take him to the city of Nagoya to be disposed of. After some comic mishaps along the way, Ozaki is accidentally killed and his body goes missing; Thus poor minami is left to search the city of Nagoya, which looks like a mixture between an abandoned strip mall and a giant truckstop (with a scrapyard thrown in to add some color). Things get weirder from there; from hyper-lactating inn keepers to soup ladles stuck in unlikely places to shitting ghosts (I kid you not... That scene is one of the funniest I've seen in ages), the bizarre factor just increases until the final, unforgettable twenty minutes or so- which are a prime example of both Miike's fondness for stretching an uncomfortable scene to almost unbearable extremes and his knack for nailing shots that are impressive both in concept and execution.

There is a lot of David Lynch in the plot, and a bit more of David Cronemberg at his most carnal (although neither of them have ever been even remotely as weird or explicit as this). The pacing is a bit slack here and there, and while a theme gradually emerges, it never even remotely makes sense. Which is just as good, as it doesn't really need to (and I suppose it was never intended to, either). Overlong at more than two hours, it's still thought provoking, engaging and a damn hoot as well.

Blade Trinity

You know? Jessica Biel is hot. The chick in Blade 2 was better, but Biel comes close. And that's absolutely the only thing about this wretched pile of regurgitated shit that can even remotely compare to Blade 2. I mean, holy fucking hell- Blade one was a rotting heap of steaming turds, but at least it had the nightclub massacre. This iteration doesn't even have a halfway passable scene; Hack extraordinaire David Goyer, apparently livid that someone actually did a halfway decent sequel to his shitty breakthrough, got away from the Peruvian retreat where he spent his days getting raped by Croatian sailors and directed the third installment. And you know what? Yeah, you do. It Fucking Reeks.

Phew. Glad to get that off my chest. Where was I? oh, yeah- this coprophiliac's wet and squishy dream...

This is the kind of flick where ridiculous looking people stride in slow motion while ominous electronica beeps in the background, and Wesley Snipes is lovingly fetish-ized from every possible angle. Jessica Biel's ass, or rather, the other end, slowly puts on her I-pod earphones while someone explains that she's building her own custom soundtracks for the ensuing battle. There is some fairly funny running commentary by an idiot that goes by the name of Hannibal King (god, I hate comics) that almost makes things worthwhile- I mean, if there's something that Blade movies practically beg for, is to have the piss taken out of them. But as funny as a remark about vampire Pomeranian dogs may be, what can you honestly say about a movie idiotic enough to actually feature a fucking Pomeranian dog-vampire hybrid?
I don't even need to go into the characters. They suck ass, period. And about the wafer thin mess that dares call itself a plot... for fuck's sake. Let me go into it for a bit:

Blade gets framed with murder after a laughable action sequence (just, you know, because he killed a guy... life's a bitch that way). His mentor dies in the police raid that ensues after making it quite clear he's a father figure and that he disapproves of Blade's grumpy ways. And Blade is captured. Oh, some ridiculous looking vampires also free dracula from a tomb in Irak before that. They apparently want him to enforce some sort of final vampire solution. Jessica Biel's ass makes a random appearance and kills some vampires in a poorly choreographed fight. Meanwhile the Vampires show up at police HQ, where Blade is held, to take him off to… oh hell, I don’t know- one would think they would be happy to finish him off there and then. Anyhow, a Dork and Jessica Biel’s ass show up and rescue Blade in a particularly shitty sequence (Noticing a pattern here?). Now, let me stress that this one’s particularly excruciating; not only is it poorly edited, unimaginative and, well, unexciting, but the stunts that are pulled off are head-slappingly stupid. Better get used to it. Anyhow-
A lot of pointless exposition follows, Blade makes some new friends in a group of vampire hunters, but he acts all angry and mean. That’s just because he’s really afraid of getting hurt, you see- fear is the opposite of love. Patrick Swaize taught me that. Dracula meanwhile walks around, looking all mean in a very gay outfit tailored to show off his bare pecs; He kills a couple of Goths and hangs out, basically. You know, for being such a powerful final solution, he does an awful lot of petty errands. Who does he do them for? Glad you asked! We now come to some of the most pathetic, loser bad guys I’ve ever seen. A girl with hair almost half as high as her head and that walks around as if her tampon is sliding out (and tends to do so in slow motion, you know, to pad the movie out even more), and an effete, Armani-wearing undead yuppie. Oh yeah, immortal evil indeed. So they get Dracula to kill a bunch of Blade’s new buddies and kidnap the dork and a little girl. This, of course, sets up the spectacularly underwhelming final sequence when Blade and Jessica Biel’s ass (looking lovely in very tight-fitting leather pants) where friends are rescued, a vampire killing virus is unleashed, and Drake is killed in a very ho-hum fashion. The upshot of this is that David Goyer will likely never be offered to direct an action flick again. Huzzah!
At some point during this drivel, the Final Solution is revealed- turns out, it’s a Coma rip-off: racks and racks of human vegetables, from whom blood is harvested instead of organs. How is this a Final Solution? And how the fuck does this relate to Dracula? Well, your guess is as good as mine. And here’s my guess: it doesn’t, because David Goyer holds our intelligence in such contempt that he didn’t even bother writing a half-assed plot. I mean, for fuck’s sake! People often ask me why I get so worked up over shitty movies, but let me ask you this: this motherfucking bastard is shitting on us and laughing all the while, and all I'm supposed to do is open my mouth?
I would immediately join any religion that promised swift and painful death to these talentless hacks. And Goyer, you’re way fucking up in the list.

V for Vendetta

That the Wachowski brothers have a strong political stance was clear from the Matrix- before it degenerated into cheap religious parable, there was a lot of mileage to be had from the deceptively shallow Gnostic premise.
But who would think they'd make a movie out of it? Ably transposing Alan Moore's classic outraged indictment of the tendencies of Thatcher's Britain to the current geopolitical climate, the film mostly follows young Evey (Natalie Portman) as she discovers just to what extent her society is fucked up. Helping her in that endeavor is a mysterious stranger wearing a Guy Fawkes mask who wages a personal war against the totalitarian government; Poor Evey is inexorably drawn into this gentleman's (known as V, whose voice is played with gusto by Hugo Weaving) conflict
Whether you'll like this movie or not first and foremost will hinge on whether you stand on either side of the republican/liberal divide. Make no mistake about it, this film is an outright attack on some of the conservative tendencies that have been gripping the US under Bush's regime. It works as a story, but the movie unsubtly, and rather heavy-handedly, pushes them to the fore at every possible opportunity. They're valid points, but earnestness doesn't always mesh with good storytelling.

So, does it work? well, surprisingly enough, it does. It helps that it's not an action flick, but rather a calm exploration of its themes, with emphasis on the characters' stories as V's war escalates and shakes the dystopia's foundations. The characters are mostly very likeable (especially Stephen Fry and Stephen Rea, both a pleasure to watch acting). And the central mysteries- Just who this guy V is, and how did things get to where they are- are compelling, if a bit underwhelming.
But... (there's always one of those, isn't there?) remember when I said it was heavy handed? Well, heavy handed it is. The film portrays V as using anarchist methods (and indeed does not implicitly approve or disapprove of them), but portrays him more as an enraged liberal. In fact, it idealizes him to a fault, while it demonizes everything and anything related to the bad guys. Couldn't some shades of grey be added in there? As always, audiences can't be trusted on to draw their own conclusions. There is no subtlety, and points are often hammered home when inference or an unbiased presentation of the facts would have been far more effective.
Not that V doesn't do morally reprehensible things during the movie, but the film's sympathies are too clearly with him; He never once shows a shred of weakness, not one negative trait. No real humanity... Until one unfortunate late scene where one of the worst cliches the movie could have comitted is gleefully perpetrated.

In fact, the movie promptly goes to hell as the final scenes start. Starting with its only extended action sequence (fun!) it promptly begins to smash everything it had carefully built up in the previous two hours. Taking a sharp turn towards the metaphorical, whereas the rest of the movie was very gritty and even had some nods to realism (Hollywood realism, at least), any complexity is dispelled; the resolution is facile and feels extremely cheap. Everything culminates in an unmasking scene that is idiotically juvenile, its cheap symbolism almost demagogic.
It'll please fourteen-year-olds in the audience to no end, I'm sure- but anyone else will probably find themselves feeling either disappointed... or insulted. A shame, to be sure; But the Wachowskies seem to have a penchant for ruining movies with supremely shitty endings.

The Legend of Zorro

What a godawful piece of shit. It's aimed straight at the kiddies, but even hating the little snotrags as much as I do I'd find myself incapable of inflicting this horrendous crap on them. If my uncommon attack of scruples doesn't scare you off, consider this: At one point, Zorro's little offspring uses the series' trademark kung-fu, swashbuckly style of gymnastics to put a dastardly professor in his place.
I'm still recovering from that one. At least the rugrat's acting is on the same level as the acting of Banderas and Zeta-Jones (and Rufus Sewell, who's been slumming since Dark City). Hmm, wait, that isn't a complement. At all. Ok, at least he doesn't look like he's had a botox overdose.

Not even trace amounts of originality, sense of fun, or any sort of effort can be found here. To call it derivative would be an insult to the original movie; while it wasn't good by any stretch, at least it managed to be entertaining and marginally witty.
I don't intend to go into the plot (lucky you), but let me rag on a bit to scare off anyone still willing to inflict this shit upon himself. Or rather, vent for a bit. There are several slapstick scenes that are completely out of place, inserting jarring visual gags (that fall completely flat) and aren't even followed up. Check it out, the horse is drinking! And now it's smoking! Best of all is the only moment where the movie winks knowingly at the adults enduring this crap for the children's sake- a scene where a recently divorced, drunken Banderas hammily asserts that "no one leaves his tequila worm dangling". Only in this movie that could pass off as a sly, witty double entendré.