| 14 August 2009
Peter Capaldi confronts Chris Addison in In the Loop.
Is it too soon for an Iraq War comedy?
Perhaps, but someone forgot to tell director/co-writer Armando Iannucci who made In the Loop, a giddy feature debut with a comic take on the bureaucratic skirmishes in the run-up to the war in the Middle East.
Actually, neither Iraq nor Afghanistan get mentioned by name, but you would have to had avoided all news sources from the George Bush-Tony Blair days not to recognize the satirical targets of this tale. Our worst fears are comically illustrated in this behind-the-scenes diplomatic tug-of-war between the United States and the United Kingdom over the justification for armed conflict, which leads to a trumped-up sales job at the United Nations.
Iannucci is a veteran of the British sitcom The Thick of It, but it seems likely that he is more than a little familiar with The West Wing and The Office. From the former, he takes the hyper-articulate dialogue style and walk-and-talk visuals, while the latter seems to have been his inspiration for underplayed bumbling.
The snafus begin immediately when pipsqueak Simon Foster (Tom Hollander), Britain’s minister of international development, strays from his area of expertise, answering a question from the BBC by reassuringly declaring that “war is unforeseeable.” The problem is that statement contradicts the -- unseen -- prime minister, a lapdog of the -- equally absent -- American president, and any attempt to correct his position only lands Simon in hotter water.
History may not record which underling bureaucrat said what, but while it is happening, words are all they have, so they battle over them and over the political turf that ebbs and flows based on perceptions rather than substance.
Fighting fire with stupidity, the prime minister sends his communications director Malcolm Tucker (Peter Capaldi) to Washington to dampen the furor. There he does combat with hawkish State Department higher-up Linton Barwick (David Rasche), who cannot keep his secret War committee secret, no matter what boring title he tries to give it. Opposing the war are Assistant Secretary Karen Clark (Mimi Kennedy) and dovish-but-foulmouthed Army Gen. Miller (James Gandolfini), whose efforts are fated to be ineffectual.
Only slightly exaggerated is the crucial role rookie aides and toadying underlings play in getting the work of government done, for good or ill. Karen’s put-upon whipping girl (Anna Chlumsky) and Simon’s none-too-swift aide (Chris Addison) have one-night-stand sex in between churning out position papers.
In The Loop is on-target political satire in the British mode, the sort of smart and smart-assed comedy that is all too rare on this side of The Pond. Contemporary war movies have been sinking at the box office and this one will probably not reverse that trend, but it deserves to be sought out and seen.
IN THE LOOP. Studio: BBC Films; Director: Armando Ianucci; Starring: Peter Capaldi, Chris Addison, Tom Hollander, Gina McKee, Anna Chlumsky, James Gandolfini. Opening today at Emerging Cinemas, Lake Worth. Call 586-6410 for more information.
| 13 August 2009
Talina Adamo
A recent graduate of the Palm Beach Film School, she unveils her first movie, a 47-minute documentary called The Love of Music, at a red-carpet premiere screening, live concert and reception at Fort Lauderdale’s Cinema Paradiso.
The film turns the spotlight on a dozen or so singers and bands on the South Florida club scene, asking them about their careers and their “love of music.”
Music has always been a part of Adamo’s life, ever since she composed her first song at the age of 9. In recent years, though, she has turned her attention to making films, and The Love of Music allows her to combine the two passions.
“I had just kind of quit making music, but after I graduated from film school, I got the spark again,” she says. “The first thing I wanted to film was music videos and people performing. At the same time I wanted to make movies, because I can and because it makes me feel good. And I thought, ‘Who not promote other artists at the same time?’ ”
Among the artists featured in The Love of Music are Dominique Vouk & The Sexy Band, Michaela Paige, the South Side Kings and Kriya & Miss Becca. But there could have been a lot more, because Adamo shot footage of another dozen performers. Originally conceived as two-part film, she now plans to air the outtakes on the Internet.
“I have this Internet channel called Black Onyx TV,” she explains. “So I’m going to put the rest of the people that didn’t get onto the film, I’ll put them on the TV series.”
Although Adamo has been on the local club scene, she did not know most of the subjects of her film. “No, I did a simple ‘Let’s see what would happen’ on Craig’s List. And you would not believe how many people responded.”
The Love of Music is rudimentary filmmaking at best, largely static talking-head interviews with little visual variety. Adamo concedes that production costs were a limiting factor.
“I did it on really no budget at all,” she says. “There are definitely a lot of things I could critique about it myself.” The 47-minute length, not quite a feature and too long for a short, came about because “it isn’t a typical movie format, but I didn’t want to bore people with too many questions and answers. I could have extended it a bit if I had more performances.”
Still, the views of the artists should be helpful for young performers trying to break into the business. “I really plan on trying to get it into the school system, reaching out to younger kids, seeing if I can get into the educational part of the market,” says Adamo.
The performers interviewed impart some wisdom that Adamo wishes she had had in her early career. “It’s about not letting bad things people say about your singing stop you from pursuing your dreams,” she notes. “Because you’re always going to get a thousand ‘nos’ before you get that one ‘yes.’ ”
Adamo is now back to singing, as well as filmmaking. “I’m back at it, but I’m back at it with a new focus. I just want to have people hear the music. It’s not so much that I want to be signed by a record label and become famous. I kind of enjoy it more as a hobby, but I hope I can still get my music out to people.”
Adamo will be performing after the film screening on Sunday, along with pre-teen singing sensation Paige. “There will be a red carpet entrance for any celebrities we can get to come, we’ll show the film and afterwards Michaela and I will sing. And of course, there’ll be food and drink.”
Tickets range from $10 general admission to $70 VIP packages, to help pay for the event. “The thing is not really focused on fund-raising,” says Adamo. “I actually am using it to get the film seen by the performers and the crew, and then use the money to make up the cost of renting the theater. So even if I flatline and just break even, I’ll be happy."
THE LOVE OF MUSIC, premiere event, Cinema Paradiso, 503 S.E. 6th St., Fort Lauderdale. 7 p.m. Sunday. Tickets: $10-$70. Call; (866) 913-9606.
| 12 August 2009
Ed Helms, Alan Thicke, James Brolin and Jeremy Piven in The Goods: Live Hard, Sell Hard.
Contrary to what the deceptive trailers want you to believe, nobody who wrote or directed the new comedy The Goods: Live Hard, Sell Hard had anything to do with Talladega Nights.
That “From the guys who gave you Talladega Nights” nonsense stems from the fact that Talladega director Adam McKay merely produced this jalopy, which isn’t a fraction as funny as his own weakest work (Step Brothers), let alone his Talladega zenith.
But false advertising is an appropriate business tactic for a film that is all about, well … false advertising. Jeremy Piven plays Don Ready, a nomadic, “mercenary” car salesman who lives in hotels, working on freelance to revive struggling dealerships using a combination of blatant dishonesty, nefarious trickery and simple smoothness. His latest, life-changing assignment is for the family-owned Selleck dealership in Temecula, Calif., which needs to move its entire stock of cars over a Fourth of July blowout sale or risk financial ruin.
Every character in this abrasive clunker is a stultifying caricature, starting with Don Ready himself, an unlikable, sexist prick who goes through women (mostly strippers) like items on a laundry list and who perpetuates every stereotype of the used-car salesman as unctuous charlatan. Going down the list of supporting characters, the salespeople grow even more ludicrous.
There’s Ving Rhames, collecting his rent check as Jibby Newsome, a sexual nihilist who’s done every perverted act under the sun but yearns to truly “make love” to a woman. There’s Kathryn Hahn as Babs Merrick, a well-endowed, clichéd sexpot lusting after the manager’s 10-year-old son (Rob Riggle, who, thanks to a rare disease, has the body of a 30-year-old). There’s Charles Napier as a hotheaded racist who frequently quarrels with a meek Korean salesman played by Ken Jeong. Need I go on?
OK, if you insist. Outside the sales world, there’s Ed Helms as an idiotic singer in a “man band” – a N-Sync-type trio of thirtysomethings playing boy-band music. He’s also the fiancée to Ivy Selleck (Jordana Spiro), the comely daughter of the dealership’s proprietor (James Brolin) and Ready’s inevitable, seemingly uncatchable love interest.
Mercilessly, all of these characters see precious screen time devoted to their various dilemmas, and, try as the filmmakers might, there’s not a laugh between them (the only time I chuckled was during a cameo by a handlebar-mustachioed Will Ferrell, which is carried solely by his considerable comic acumen).
The Goods is a clumsy picture absent a single original idea. At one point, it devolves into two groups of characters screaming meaningless noises at each other. To call the humor sophomoric is an insult to all sophomores; this should insult anyone with an education beyond middle school. The jokes have the inspiration and follow-through of a group of stoners hammering out ideas over one pot-fueled evening. This may have been the case – director Neal Brennan was a writer on the only-funny-if-you’re-high comedy Half-Baked.
Brennan, a regular writer on Chappelle’s Show, is no visionary behind the lens, either, making the Adam Stock and Rick Stempson script sound as flat and inky as if it died on the page (the only curious shot in the film is when Brennan photographs Piven with an inordinate amount of space on the right side of the frame to accommodate the obvious product placement of a Budweiser beer sign).
The Goods is a film I would have rather not seen, and if I wasn’t viewing it for work, I’d have walked out after 10 minutes. Save yourself the time and money, or at least wait – this is just the kind of film likely to turn up on Comedy Central in the wee hours of weekday programming in the not-too-distant future.
John Thomason is a freelance writer based in South Florida.
THE GOODS: LIVE HARD, SELL HARD. Distributor: Paramount Vantage; Director: Neal Brennan; Cast: Jeremy Piven, Ving Rhames, James Brolin, David Koechner, Kathryn Hahn, Ed Helms, Rob Riggle, Jordana Spiro, Craig Robinson and Alan Thicke; Rating: R; Release date: Friday; Venue: Most commercial houses
| 07 August 2009
Adam Sandler in Funny People.
Stand-up comedians are self-absorbed, narcissistic, snobbish, petty, antagonistic people. It’s a blanket statement, but it’s born of a stereotype that I’ve found true no matter how many places I’ve seen them perform and no matter how many times comedians have been depicted in movies and television. When I visited New York’s Village Lantern a couple years back, an open-mic hack whose laugh-free act consisted of unpleasant jokes about bodily fluids and unsanitary derrieres physically attacked a heckler just inches from where I was sitting.
The incident gave me a great story, and like any good comedy story, it had a punchline: After the violent comic was thrown out, he showed up a few minutes later because he’d forgotten his phone, walking through the debris of toppled tables and even enlisting the help of the heckler to find it.
In Judd Apatow’s appropriately bitter Funny People, too, a couple of comedians engage in awkward fisticuffs. Apatow’s third movie is his weakest to date, but it understands the mentality of stand-up comedy and the people who try it better than any movie released in Hollywood.
Granted, there’s a short list to work with. Frank Whaley’s The Jimmy Show, about a comedian with a pathetic life who bombs on stage night after night, is so wrist-cuttingly depressing that its only appeal is that of pure Schadenfreude. Comedian, a documentary about Jerry Seinfeld’s return to the stand-up grind, shares as its subject an up-and-comer named Orny Adams, who epitomizes the very self-absorbed, narcissistic, snobbish, petty, antagonistic stereotype so many comics embody.
But the first modern Hollywood tale to explore the psyche of the comedian was 1988’s Punchline, which shares enough in common with Funny People that you might want to see it first. Both films feature established, curmudgeonly comedians who take inexperienced protégés under their wings.
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In Punchline, it’s a cranky med-school dropout played by Tom Hanks who helps a bored housewife played by Sally Field hone a craft she isn’t very good at. In Funny People, it’s a comic-turned-actor played by Adam Sandler (who makes movies that are transparently similar to Adam Sandler movies), who, upon learning that he’s suffering from a life-threatening form of leukemia, enlists an aspiring comedian (Seth Rogen) to write jokes for him.
Both films understand that comics aren’t the nicest souls on the planet – Hanks has arguably never been as unlikable as his turn in Punchline, and Adam Sandler is more prickly and off-putting than ever in Funny People. We’re subjected to scenes of both men crashing and burning on stage. But the difference between these scenes best expresses why Funny People, for all its flaws (its length, its lack of comedic sharpness, its general slightness), edges out its predecessor in veracity.
When Hanks’ Steven Gold bombs, the moment is manipulative, overwrought and, like much of the film’s depictions of onstage performances, utterly bogus. It’s a cheap attempt to get us to feel some sympathy for the guy. When Sandler’s George Simmons has his meltdown in Funny People, it’s a Goldilocksian moment – not too much of a breakdown and not too little. It’s just right. I’ve witnessed breakdowns just like it.
So, too, have I witnessed real comedians whose acts are remarkably similar to the material and style of Apatow’s creations, such as Aubrey Plaza’s cute, droll Daisy and Aziz Ansari’s hyper, abrasive Randy. Their material isn’t as terrible as the crap you’re likely to hear at any of South Florida’s numerous open-mics, nor is it as funny as Apatow himself can be in his screenplays. In other words, it’s utterly believable.
Both movies have strong pedigrees by real-life comics: Punchline’s cast has the likes of Damon Wayans, Paul Mazursky and Taylor Negron, while Funny People includes cameos by Sarah Silverman, Andy Dick and Norm MacDonald. But only the latter proves worthy enough to include appearances by those self-absorbed, narcissistic, snobbish, petty, antagonistic people.
John Thomason is a freelance writer based in South Florida.
| 03 August 2009
Dolphins leap near boats in a scene from The Cove.
Just as the suspense in Man on Wire hinged on wire walker Philippe Petit’s attempts to not get caught in an elaborate scheme to walk a wire between the Twin Towers, The Cove’s ambitious protagonist Ric O’Barry stealthily breaches forbidden land time and again, disguising cameras in rocks and blimps and sneaking past barriers in the pitch-black darkness when he isn’t outwitting flustered authority figures. But where Petit’s goal was self-serving, O’Barry’s is selfless and vital – to stop the mass slaughter of dolphins and whales that takes place each fall in Taiji, Japan.
The opening frames of The Cove tease us with the allure of illegality. They show a scene depicting O’Barry, in a car with members of the Oceanic Preservation Society (which produced the film), being pursued by Japanese law enforcement. Director Louie Psihoyos then hits the brakes, providing the context leading up to the chase. We find that for O’Barry, a former dolphin trainer for Flipper turned anti-captivity activist, the threat of arrest is a common occupational hazard. He rather takes pride in it, having been arrested numerous times in his native Miami for attempting to rescue dolphins from captivity.
The Cove follows his latest, and riskiest, attempt yet to expose sea mammal cruelty. Though it’s a largely unknown event – even in parochial Japan – in September of each year, countless whales and dolphins are slaughtered in a Taiji cove. In this whaling holocaust, the “good” dolphins are sold to places like Sea World and other amusement centers as show animals, while the rest are mutilated and packaged as food.
Exposing the deep-seated political undercurrents that lie beneath the shocking tableaux of blood-red waters, O’Barry and his team of saltwater muckrakers offer a scathing indictment of corruption that goes well beyond animal cruelty. They reveal the health risks involved when mercury-poisoned dolphin meat is dispersed in markets throughout Japan, often in deceptive packaging. You don’t have to be an animal activist to be outraged; whether or not you care that dolphins are being butchered like cattle, you have to concede that the spread of dolphin meat in Japanese groceries – some was even required on school lunch menus – is fatally wrong.
When O’Barry claims that the media and the Japanese government are involved in a massive cover-up of the slaughter, it sounds conspiratorial. But as the diligent filmmakers continue to lay out their case, it becomes perfectly plausible. The Japanese have tried repeatedly to repeal a 1986 ban on whaling that was instated by the International Whaling Commission. According to the film’s findings, Japanese bureaucrats bribed small Caribbean nations into joining their pleas for a repeal by simply throwing money at their struggling economies.
For every excuse Japanese officials provide for the slaughter (it’s a matter of pest control, they claim, to save the dwindling fish population that’s devoured by the dolphins), the filmmakers proceed to debunk it, and by the end, they’ve composed a piece of eye-popping agitprop that rubs the fishermen’s horrific actions in their noses and has the potential to rid the world of this tragedy.
Unsettling, informative, fast-moving, never boring and even occasionally funny, The Cove is the work of a passionate few using their resources to bring about change for countless dolphins who, like humans, are self-aware mammals whose perpetual smiles do little to suggest the pain and suffering they’re subjected to.
Surely, no dolphin activist has been told “You can’t be here” more than Ric O’Barry. Here’s hoping he continues to tread in dangerous waters.
John Thomason is a freelance writer based in South Florida.
THE COVE. Distributor: Lionsgate; Director: Louis Psihoyos; Rated: PG-13; Opens: Friday; Venue: Regal Shadowood 16 in Boca Raton, Regal Delray Beach 18 in Delray Beach and Cobb Downtown in Palm Beach Gardens.
