Over at Cinematical, Todd Gilchrist has a nice interview with Nicolas Cage about his work in Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans, and specifically both how he mapped out behavior for his character depending on what illicit substances he was abusing in given scenes, as well as his view of people that would characterize his acting choices as somehow weird, while giving folks working in other mediums an “artist pass.”
Also, still and forever true, despite the most unfortunate gift delivered unto Dook last night.
Late to the party, but I wanted to give a tip of the cap to Ryan Rotten over at Shock Till You Drop, who has news about a potential sequel to The Strangers, which was actually one of the more effective exercises in purebred, string-pulling horror craftsmanship from 2008. He sorts through its fitful pre-production history, and examines the script, from Bryan Bertino, the director of the first film. It’d be not bad at all for this thing to go off, but as Rotten points out, it would likely have to happen sooner rather than later in order to capitalize on an already shrinking window of public memory and genre fan goodwill.
Take note, fans of A Simple Plan, Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead, Unfaithful and (just perhaps) fellow Down Under import Lantana. A twist-filled Australian drama centering on an adulterous couple whose scheming leads to arson, blackmail and multiple deaths, The Square evokes tangential memories of the classic board game Candyland’s Molasses Swamp, because every step of attempted extrication its protagonist takes only seems to plunge him further into trouble.
Middle-aged construction supervisor Raymond (David Roberts, above) becomes entangled in an affair with a beautiful but troubled neighbor, Carla (Claire van der Boom), whose mulleted husband Smithy (Anthony Hayes) is a menacing figure up to no good. When Carla comes across a mysterious stash of cash hidden by Smithy, she proposes to Ray that they go all Steve Miller Band, and take the money and run. Though reticent at first, Ray hires criminal drifter Billy (co-writer Joel Edgerton) to cover their tracks with an arson scheme, which goes tragically wrong and accidentally fells Carla’s mother-in-law. The couple is understandably freaked… and that’s before the first blackmail note arrives. Someone knows of their illicit love affair, it seems, and as Ray tries to simultaneously get to the bottom of the extortion, finish paying off Billy and execute an on-the-fly cover-up, things only get worse for the lovers.
Director Nash Edgerton works in a sort of plain-faced, stylistically muted fashion, and doesn’t really, until the end, try to artificially goose the dramatic stakes. The Square, perhaps much to its credit, doesn’t waste time trying to get into the details of either party’s domestic unhappiness. Action instead drives the plot, which mostly works since the acting is solid across the board. There can be a certain pleasure to the mere tightening of screws, and that’s chiefly where The Square gets its kicks; weather, happenstance and bystanders’ nosiness all seem to conspire against our lovers. The movie is seeded, too, with sometimes amusing details that raise tension in peripheral, atypical ways (having watched their owners go at it, Ray and Carla’s dogs form a bond), even though many of them never conventionally pay off. It’s a case for fidelity, if only because the alternative seems so downright exhausting. (Apparition, R, 102 minutes)
As a kid, sometime between elementary school and the wonder years of middle school, I went through a rather typical fascination with all sorts of things occult, mysterious and unexplained — reflective, in my opinion, of a desire to explore the world at large. The very idea of human uncertainty, of the outer limits of testable knowledge, was in and of itself a mesmerizing notion, and in so many ways much more interesting than plain old school lessons. This extracurricular interest started with aliens, the Bermuda Triangle and UFOs, extended onto the Loch Ness Monster and the case of Jack the Ripper, as I recall, and of course made its way to Bigfoot and his wintry cousin, the Abominable Snowman. (When I couldn’t find answers, or even re-framed questions to the ideas I had kicking around in my own mind, this period, pre-Internet, also introduced the limitations of books, something else that blew my mind.)
This is all to say that settling down with a copy of a low-budget 2004 film entitled Bigfoot, complete with exploi-tastic extreme close-up cover art, felt in ways both good and substantial like a field trip back in time. So I wasn’t necessarily expecting a movie that relocated the Bigfoot legend from the environs of the Pacific Northwest to… marshy Ohio? Yes, indeed. The DVD cover boasts a quote from the Cleveland Free Times deeming the flick “reminiscent of Jaws,” which is certainly a stretch. But there’s no denying that writer-director-actor Bob Gray’s film is nowhere near as balls-to-the-wall schlocky as one might reasonably suspect (and indeed desire), given the subject matter. Eschewing CGI in favor of zippered-suit marauding and other practical effects, Bigfoot spins a wan tale of homecoming and familial reconciliation around its beasty hunting, and in doing so tangentially evokes the spirits of early creature features and drive-in movies of yesteryear.
With his 9-year-old daughter Charlie (Brooke Beckwith) in tow, single dad Jack Sullivan (Todd Cox) moves back to his recently deceased father’s home in Mentor Headlands, in the marshlands of Northeastern Ohio. There, he reunites with his old friend Bob Perkins (Gray), now sheriff, where the two puzzle over a recent spate of animal mutilations. They investigate, and team up with local park ranger Sandy Parker (Liza Foster). Before long, they’re on the trail of Bigfoot (Shawn Kipp), don’tcha know. Copious shots of startled hunters ensue.
Any fair judgment rendered unto Bigfoot must take into account its limited production means. The acting is amateurish and what most forthrightly dooms it, and the execution only so-so throughout, but Gray’s script at least attempts to avoid a purely adrenalized, rib-poking take on its titular star, building the production around a quaint regionalism that is somewhat charming. With perhaps a bit more time and a few more polished actors, his modest efforts would have achieved greater value.
Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Bigfoot comes to DVD on a region-free disc, as a full-screen presentation. Multi-hyphenate Gray provides an audio commentary track that dispenses plenty of DIY advice, while also giving props to the local kids who serve as background extras. There’s also a three-and-a-half-minute forced-scrollable photo gallery, the trailer for Bigfoot and three other Troma DVD titles, and a 10-minute making-of featurette with a bit of behind-the-scenes footage, as well as interview material with cryptozoologist Don Keating. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. C- (Movie) C+ (Disc)
The title is somewhat misleading, since there are plenty of things that Charles Darwin probably never knew about, from Twitter, Jennifer Aniston and the rather baffling commercial success of the Alvin and the Chipmunks films to nuclear proliferation, the stunning hotness of French
TV anchor Melissa Theuriau and the cottage industry of response he would eventually provide to all those ichthus fish car magnets. Still, the new documentary What Darwin Never Knew actually sheds some fascinating light on one of history’s most intriguing and controversial scientists.
On the 150th anniversary of the publication of On the Origin of Species, the award-winning NOVA series revisits Darwin’s (in)famous work, and fills in some of the blanks within it. As the DVD’s back cover text points out, Earth teems with a staggering variety of animals — including 9,000 kinds of birds, 28,000 types of fish, and more than 350,000 species of beetles alone. The source of life’s seemingly endless forms was a profound mystery until Darwin’s revolutionary idea of natural selection, which he showed could help explain the gradual development of life on earth. But Darwin’s radical insights raised as many questions as they answered, both about humankind’s relationship to evolution (heresy to most organized religions) as well as what about what factors actually drive evolution and turn one species into another.
Stunning breakthroughs in a brand new science are linking the enigma of origins to another of nature’s great mysteries, the development of an embryo, and it’s at this interstice which What Darwin Never Knew exists, using cutting-edge testing to link past and present. To explore this exciting new idea, NOVA takes viewers on a journey from the Galapagos Islands to the Arctic, and from the Cambrian explosion of animal forms half a billion years ago to the research labs of today, where scientists are beginning to crack some of nature’s biggest secrets at a genetic level. It’s all quite fascinating stuff, and nicely pitched at a level which both science nerds and the average layperson can almost equally enjoy.
Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, What Darwin Never Knew comes to home video in both Blu-ray and DVD, the latter presented in 1.78:1 widescreen, with an English language stereo track that more than adequately handles the meager aural demands of this title. There are unfortunately no supplemental bonus features, save chapter stops. To order a copy of What Darwin Never Knew directly from the manufacturer, call (800) PLAY-PBS or click here; to purchase the DVD via Amazon, meanwhile, click here. B (Movie) D (Disc)
The subject of elder care is rarely legitimately addressed or explored in American film, perhaps because creative types see what a third rail it is in politics (prescription drug benefits! death panels!) and just figure, Jesus, why would I want to get involved in that? Multi-hyphenate Gianni Di Gregorio (below right) wades into the breach, though, with Mid-August Lunch, a movie of gentle rhythms and deadpan amusements built around a dutiful adult son’s attempts to placate a group of feisty ladies.
Starring in his directorial debut, and
drawing upon events from his own life, Di Gregorio places himself at the center of a trying Roman holiday. The plot? Armed with only wine and a fatalistic sense of humor, middle-aged Gianni resides with his 93-year-old mother (Valeria De Franciscis), a fallen aristocrat, in their cramped apartment. His condo co-op debts are mounting, but building manager Luigi makes Gianni a proposition — if he looks after his mother (Marina Cacciotti) during Ferragosto (Italy’s biggest summer holiday), Luigi will wipe the charges clear. Gianni wearily accedes, but then Luigi also shows up with an aunt (Maria Cali), and soon Gianni’s doctor unloads his own mother (Grazia Cesarini Sforza) upon him as well. Can Gianni juggle the at-odds dietary concerns and fickle personalities of such lively grand dames?
Di Gregorio, co-writer of the very different Gomorrah, possesses a warm, unruffled charisma that goes a long way toward helping ease one into the sleepy tone around which this delicately balanced comedy of
manners is constructed. The leathery De Franciscis is amusing too, carping over the gift of a bundt cake by noting that it came covered by a hand towel, and isolating herself in her room after quickly deciding these interlopers don’t interest her. Watching the movie I was reminded of a truth I witnessed in my own grandmother — that settled ways and comfortable routines can be fundamentally misread by sensitive souls as more personal judgments — and the unspoken corollary to that: that we always say we want the best care for our aging parents, but the reality is that it often entails challenges entirely unrelated to immediate medical concerns.
There’s no grand drama or payoff to Mid-August
Lunch — this is essentially Polaroid-type, snapshot cinema, in which Gianni juggles and tries, and nothing exists outside the carefully prescribed boundaries of meal time, pillow fluffiness, control of the television and dietary concerns. That fact, as much if not more so than its Italian roots, may automatically limit the film’s audience. But there is truth here, and in truth there is always some value. (Zeitgeist, unrated, 76 minutes)
It’s interesting and more than a bit telling that the first paragraph of the accompanying press notes for Bad
Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans tout the fact that the movie “allows… for Nicolas Cage‘s performance to be truly memorable.” It’s an intriguing choice of words, one that seemingly yields, with a smirk and knowing nod, to interpretations of the film as a piece of zonked-out performance art.
Cage plays Terence McDonagh, a rogue New Orleans detective who’s as devoted to his job as he is at
scoring illicit drugs. A brief opening bit showcases McDonagh as a crusading good-guy cop. But in the
aftermath of Hurricane Katrina and a back injury suffered during a rescue mission, he becomes a high-functioning addict who
swings from prescription meds to harder drugs. Playing fast and loose with the law, McDonagh wields both his badge as often as his gun in order to get his way, using his finely honed intuitiveness to suss out scenarios in which he can pinch both weekend partiers and low-level junkies alike. Further complicating McDonagh’s
tumultuous life are his prostitute girlfriend, Frankie (Eva
Mendes), a troublesome gambling habit, and a father in recovery with a new, alcoholic wife. When crime boss Big Fate (rapper-actor Xzibit) looks like he’s going to weasel off the hook in the brutal murder of an immigrant family, McDonagh at first tries to flip members of his crew, then seemingly throws caution to the wind and switches sides, aligning himself with Big Fate in order to pay down debts and secure personal safety.
Yes, Bad
Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans is of a certain subgenre which might affectionately be called “batshit crazy cinema.” It’s a cop procedural in the very broadest sense, but instead of the typical 90-10-percent plot/color breakdown, it trends almost exactly in the opposite direction; even its very title seems flippant, a thumb in the eye of character-study convention. Cage’s devilish partner in this cinematic high-wire act, director Werner Herzog, studs his film with recognizable supporting players — Val Kilmer as Cage’s partner, Shawn Hatosy as a fellow cop, Brad Dourif as his bookie, Fairuza Balk as a state trooper fling, Jennifer Coolidge as his father’s drunken new squeeze, and Michael Shannon as an evidence room gatekeeper — but the narrative trappings of William Finkelstein’s script seems of little consequence to both parties.
In a way, this feeds the movie’s casual… well, brilliance may be too hefty a term, but effective misdirection, let’s say. Herzog truly cares not what the audience feels about McDonagh’s amorality, as evidenced by the relative lack of a superseding authority in the movie. There are a few mild professional consequences for McDonagh, but most of the tightening noose around his neck is entirely of his own creation. So in some not insignificant ways, audience identification with him starts to flicker, or wane. And yet this tack somewhat surprisingly works, both on a base entertainment level (as when McDonagh whips out his lucky crack pipe, or instructs a gangbanger to fire again into a bullet-riddled corpse, “because his soul is still dancing”) and as laid track toward a surprisingly definitive end point. Port of Call New Orleans, which has nothing to do with Abel Ferrera and Harvey Keitel’s Bad Lieutenant, save the shared moniker and bad behavior, is a woozy, rope-a-dope character study. It’s not for all tastes, certainly, but it’s further proof that square-jawed altruism can flow from complicated and often contrasting motivations.
Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans comes to DVD presented in 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen, with English language Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound and 2.0 stereo audio tracks, as well as optional English SDH and Spanish subtitles, the former of which are actually a bit spotty in their translation. Bonus features consist of both regular and red-band versions of the movie’s trailer, five other DVD previews, and a gallery of 96 set photographs taken by Lena Herzog, the filmmaker’s (third) wife. The chief supplemental extra, however, is a 31-minute making-of featurette, in which Herzog explains why he likes to operate his own sound-sync clapper, and engages in an apparent ritual in which a gaffer marks him with yellow tape on the first day of shooting. While there are good anecdotal details and tidbits scattered throughout — including on the dead alligator used as roadkill in a sequence, and how 2,400 jars of decaffeinated coffee were utilized to simulate muddy water for the flooded prison scene that opens the film, after it was determined that the caffeine of regular coffee would be too readily absorbed through the skin — thankfully Herzog is all over this material, in all his bountiful weirdness. That means plenty of his impish expounding on moviemaking in general as well as the “bliss of evil” present in this film, and how he doesn’t really care about McDonagh’s behavior, since it solves cases. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. B- (Movie) B+ (Disc)
