“Kung Fu Panda” (2008)

Kung Fu Panda
Directed by Mark Osborne and John Stevenson
Grade: C+

I recently took my four year old daughter to see Kung Fu Panda: The IMAX Experience on its opening weekend. It had been a while since I had seen an IMAX film, and I thought that this would be a great opportunity to take the Cinema Goulash Tot’s movie-viewing to the next level. The film itself was smart and giggle-worthy (I’ll get into that in a moment), and, surprisingly, the super-sized screen really didn’t faze my kid one way or the other, and as I walked out of the theater a little light-headed, I found myself rather put off by the large format.

Sure, it’s big. Real big. But, I suppose in this case, I’m of the mind that bigger is not always better. While the size of the screen can make you feel as if you are part of the world inside the film, I wondered if that was the place where audiences really wanted to be. Depending on where you sit in an IMAX theater, I discovered, you actually begin to lose parts of the viewing image, as the screen size effectively begins to take hold of your peripheral vision. You’re in it, alright.

However, I go to the movies to watch the whole film – the entire frame. IMAX is so huge your vision tends to be focused on specific points of action rather than the image as a whole. Personally, I don’t want select areas of the image to be lost simply because it wraps slightly beyond my sightline. In fact, I would hedge a bet that the ones who like IMAX the most are the ones who prefer pan-and-scan video releases rather than those letterboxed in their correct aspect ratio. Because unless you’re sitting in the last row of the theater, that’s essentially what you’re doing when you watch and IMAX film – panning and scanning.

I look at the screen as the window onto the world of the film. I like seeing the edges of the frame and how the image is composed within it. IMAX did nothing for me except make me realize that, while humungous is good for a film about an arctic expedition or underwater exploration, humungous does not necessarily work for the standard Hollywood feature – and now we’re beginning to see more and more of it.

As for Kung Fu Panda, watch for a truly refreshing opening three minutes of superbly hand-drawn 2D animation accompanied by a hilarious read from Jack Black. From there, the film slips into the usual slick and polished 3D animation which we’ve grown very accustomed to seeing. Save for the vibrant coloring and the martial arts action moments, the film really brings nothing new to the table and includes a star-powered cast who, while screen legends in the live-action world, merely phone in their vocal performances and lend their names to an animated project for a box office boost.

Jack Black is the soul and strength behind Kung Fu Panda. Angelina Jolie offers a sultry quality to the film’s Tigress, but it’s a voice-over that really could have been found anywhere. I’m still trying to figure out the point of casting Jackie Chan as Monkey. Chan is never known for his vocal prowess – he is a visual tour de force whenever he appears on-screen, and here offers absolutely nothing except name recognition. Ian McShane, on the other hand, known for his grisly, foul-mouthed Al Swearengen on HBO’s Deadwood, brings an equally gritty and fun performance (minus the F-bombs) to the much-feared Tai Lung.

Ultimately, much of the star power in Kung Fu Panda is gone to waste. It’s not like Tom Hanks in Toy Story (1995) or Mike Myers in Shrek (2001) where those actors treated audiences to brilliant vocal performances and characters with distinct personality. In Kung Fu Panda, it felt as if the stars were cast in their respective roles because the filmmakers thought they simply “sounded” like the characters. There’s nothing in their performances that sends it over the top. Why did these actors sign on to Kung Fu Panda? Maybe it was the paycheck. Perhaps they’re doing it for their kids – and the paycheck. Who knows? But let’s face it; Dustin Hoffman is really only Dustin Hoffman when we, the audience, get to watch Dustin Hoffman. The voice is only half of the actor we’ve come to know. Angelina Jolie is only Angelina Jolie when we are graced by her on-screen sex appeal. An animated tiger just isn’t the same.

When all is said and done, the Cinema Goulash Tot was pretty unimpressed by the film, regardless of its IMAX presentation. There came that point in Kung Fu Panda, about a third of the way through the film, where the cute animals, refined animation, and ultra-colorful backdrops just couldn’t hold the Goulash Tot any longer. She’s a smart girl and knows when she’s being had by a formulaic storyline. And when my little girl becomes more fascinated by the movie’s tie-in marketing at the McDonald’s down the street than the film itself… Well, there you go.

  Cinema Goulash is honoring all those who serve noodles by day and dream of being a martial arts warrior by night. Today we’re cooking up Po’s Kung Fu Sesame Noodles with Chicken:

8 oz fresh/dried egg noodles
1 tbsp. sesame oil
4 oz chicken breast, skinned and boned
2 oz each of celery and carrots
4 oz cucumber
2 spring onions
3/4 tbsp sesame paste

Sauce:
1/2 tbsp sesame oil
2 tsp chili oil
2 tbsp Chinese light soy
1 tbsp white vinegar
1/8 - 1/4 tsp chili powder
5 tbsp chicken stock

Cook the noodles in boiling water for 3-5 minutes until just done. Drain and rinse in cold water. Toss them in a bowl with 1 tbsp of sesame oil, cover and refrigerate if cooking in advance. Cut the chicken into strips, simmer 2-4 minutes in a little water until they are white throughout. Drain and allow to cool then shred the meat. Cut the carrots and celery into very small pieces and boil rapidly for 40 secs adding the onions for the last 10 secs. Drain and rinse in cold water, pat dry. Cut the cucumber into fine julienne strips. Save a few of the vegetables for garnish. For the sauce, stir the sesame paste well in a bowl. Slowly stir in the sesame oil, chili oil, soy, chili powder and chicken stock. To serve, place the noodles in a bowl, add the chicken and vegetables. Stir the sauce and pour it on. Toss well. Top with a few vegetables for garnish.

“Lars and the Real Girl” (2007)

Lars and the Real Girl
Directed by Craig Gillespie
Grade: B+

As much as it seems that Lars and the Real Girl, a story about one man’s imaginary relationship with a blow-up sex doll, would warrant the PG-13 rating it received, the film is really more family fare than it thinks it is. It is about dealing with loss, dealing with interpersonal relationships (or lack thereof), and retreating to the familiarity of comfort zones, even if it makes those around you uncomfortable.

It’s interesting (yes, here I go again.) Craig Gillespie’s light-hearted dramedy is deemed inappropriate for those under thirteen only from the underlying insinuation that naturally follows any inflatable sex toy. Yet, that is all Gillespie allows – an insinuation. Lars and the Real Girl is rated PG-13 for “some sexual situations.” Oddly enough, the film’s main character inhabits a far more trustworthy, non-objectifying, non-sexual opinion of his anatomically correct female doll than most teen-marketed films have on real women appearing in movies these days. This is a film that approaches its subject matter in a mature, sincere way. However, one can’t help but feel as if the MPAA’s Classification and Ratings Administration has missed the mark once again, rating a film, in this case, based on the notion of what an adult toy represents rather than how it is actually used. Beyond one brief moment in the early minutes of the film where the doll manufacturer’s website is displayed, a moment executed in good taste, safe humor, and hardly necessitating the shielding of a youngster’s eyes, Lars and the Real Girl sidesteps what could have easily been a sex-crammed setup and digs into a rather simple, intriguing, and wholesome story.

Lars and the Real Girl plays it straight and narrow, and as a result, the audience gets everything in between without the camp or the guilt of what could have been a potential spoon-feeding. It’s as genuine as it comes. My only criticism: The townsfolk in the film are far too easily swayed to jump on board with Lars’ (Ryan Gosling) imagination. I would only hope that every community could be like the one in this film – even with an occasional raised eyebrow, the entire town is ready to play along and humanize Lars’ doll. With the exception of the short-lived reluctance of Lars’ brother, Gus (Paul Schneider), there is really no one in town that stands firm against the notion of pretending that Bianca (the doll) is real. Having a steadfast antagonist (or two) in town would have added that extra layer of conflict to round out Lars and the Real Girl. Without that antagonist, the town’s willingness to play make believe, while heartwarming, is just a hair too convenient.

Forgiving that, Lars and the Real Girl makes for some enjoyable Sunday night movie-watching.

  Even the Goulash enjoys playing a little pretend every once in a while. That’s why today we’re cozying up with a little artificial tastiness that is just begging to be passed off as the real thing. Here’s a quick, delicious, and appropriate little recipe for Faux Crab Cakes that we found recently while perusing the website for Paula Deen and Food Network:

Vegetable oil, for frying
2 (6-ounce) cans tuna fish
1 egg, beaten
2 tablespoons diced green onions
1/4 cup mayonnaise
1/2 cup bread crumbs
Lemon juice, optional

Heat 1-inch of oil in a large skillet over medium heat. While oil is heating, combine tuna, beaten egg, green onions, mayonnaise, 1/4 cup bread crumbs, and lemon juice, to taste, if desired. Form into patties and dust with additional bread crumbs. When oil is hot, fry patties until golden brown, about 2 minutes on each side. Remove from oil and drain on paper towels before serving.

Note: My taking issue with the PG-13 rating is nothing new around here. What do you think? Feel free to chime in.

“Marie Antoinette” (2006)

Marie Antoinette
Directed by Sofia Coppola
Grade: B+

Sofia Coppola’s third feature outing is a slick examination of the soul behind the film’s title character instead of the strict, historically-based biopic that one would expect. Here, Coppola, while sticking to factual benchmarks along the way, offers up a lyrical interpretation of the Archduchess of Austria and Queen of France rather than dialing in a two-hour term paper on the subject.

Kirsten Dunst is, at first sight, a seemingly odd choice for the title role, but quickly proves that Coppola knew exactly what she was doing when she cast her. Dunst nails the rebellious, youthful nature of a child hastily thrust into adulthood, while wearing the forced poise and learned grace commonly found pressed and hanging in the wardrobe of teenage royalty. She is a familiar actress with a resume filled with young adult roles, which makes the choice of casting her here a good one. Dunst has always been rather playful on-screen, and young audiences can better relate to Dunst than, perhaps, a more unrecognizable actress playing Marie Antoinette on the straight and narrow.

The soundtrack of the film, a mixture of Baroque music, 80’s New Wave and modern artists, was somewhat criticized upon the film’s release as another in a string of period pieces attempting to draw in younger audiences by incorporating more familiar music cues – A Knight’s Tale (2001), for example. However, Coppola’s use of music in Marie Antoinette adds another personal layer to her interpretation of the young dauphine, shaping her as a teenager with emotions and desires which are universal, in many respects, to contemporary youth. As Marie Antoinette retreats to the lush, courtly lifestyle of Versailles, she does what just about any teen might do – hang with friends, explore her boundaries, etc. – and the choice of music only complements the internal adolescence of the character, although the dress and etiquette for the period may strike a dissident chord when set against popular tunes.

Coppola also chooses to omit significant and more familiar moments of the history of Marie Antoinette, particularly the events following the fleeing of the royal family from Versailles. We know how the young queen’s story ends. And yet, Coppola opts to leave that chapter for another day, taking a more subtle and, perhaps, meaningful approach. It is an appropriate ending for the film; as Marie says goodbye to Versailles, we witness a spoiled child of royalty transform into a mature woman, if only by exile. The film leaves us satisfied, nonetheless, leaving the popular and grisly demise for the history books.

What I found interesting about Marie Antoinette was how, once again, Coppola explores young female characters and their associations with an entourage. I think back to Coppola’s short film Lick the Star (1998), where a group of junior high school-age girls whisper and connive and flirt with the boys – much like the Lisbon sisters of The Virgin Suicides (1999) and the ladies of Versailles here. Girls in groups being girls. It’s a common theme that continues to crop up in Coppola’s work, and it always is examined through the use of her unique taste in music.

While not a perfect film, her ability to translate a taught, personal vision to the screen and her willingness to take a few risks along the way is why Sofia Coppola continues to be one of the most talented female directors in American cinema today.

In honor of a film exploring the pompous riches and blistering ruin of a royal family during the heat of the French Revolution, the Goulash would like to offer up Marie Antoinette’s Pork Crown Roast:

1 tablespoon dried parsley flakes
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon pepper
1 pork crown roast (14 ribs and about 8 pounds)
Foil or paper frills for rib ends

In a small bowl, combine the parsley, oil, salt and pepper; rub over roast. Place on a rack in a large shallow roasting pan. Cover rib ends with pieces of foil. Bake at 350° for 3 to 3-1/2 hours or until a meat thermometer reads 160°. Transfer roast to a serving platter. Let stand for 10-15 minutes. Remove foil pieces. Garnish rib ends with foil or paper frills. Cut between ribs to serve. For a superb finish, let them eat cake!

[Recipe from Taste of Home – with thanks to Shelly for the suggestion!]

“Teeth” (2007)

Teeth
Directed by Mitchell Lichtenstein
Grade: C+

I don’t know what’s worse – the fact that someone felt compelled to make a horror film involving the infamous Vagina Dentata myth, or the fact that I felt compelled to watch it.

Strangely enough, Mitchell Lichtenstein’s dark comedy horror, Teeth starts out surprisingly strong, with quirky characters and a stinging commentary on sex (and abstinence) education in our high schools. However, from about the middle of the story on, the film loses its steam and resorts to being rather standard (and silly) revenge fare. Not that every horror film has to be a work of art, mind you, but Teeth had, for the first thirty minutes, the makings of a well-dressed bloodbath. It’s only a shame Lichtenstein’s film goes limp prematurely.

In all its surface-level camp, I found myself having trouble wrapping my head around whether Teeth is a feminist film or one that is quite misogynistic. Here we have a sweet, naïve teenager, Dawn, who goes to great lengths to refrain from discovering her sexuality – she fears it, even – until she is eventually deflowered (by force) and soon learns that her sex has more bite than bark, providing the means to effectively take vengeance upon male violence.

Many viewers have cheered for Dawn, making her the heroine. There are those that see otherwise. Dawn begins the film as a meek and gentle creature. By film’s end, and through the carnage she has wrought behind her, she is strong. And yet, the film is written and directed by a male – so does his artistic impression upon the film, and the fact that all the male characters (with the exception of Dawn’s father) are sexually attracted to Dawn and are ultimately mutilated by her womanhood, make the film misogynistic in nature? Even the reviewer’s quote on the poster observes that the film is “the most alarming cautionary tale for men since Fatal Attraction.” The reviewer is male. What if the reviewer had been female? Are we to see Dawn as champion or villain? Does Lichtenstein fear the Vagina Dentata or is he fascinated by its power? And can the gender of the creative force behind a film alone dictate that point of view?

Unfortunately, the thematic arguments become far more compelling than the film itself, and what could have been a smart and sinister allegory turns out to be nothing more than a gross-out gimmick pic.

I’ve washed my hands with soap and water.

Sometimes a film/food pairing is painfully obvious, and with a film like Teeth – which showcases a fancy for lopped genitals that goes unparalleled – we feel we have a duty to serve up a healthy helping of our Bratwurst and Pasta al Dentata:

1 lbs. Rigatoni or other medium pasta shape
15 oz. fresh bratwurst
1/2 cup beer
1-1/2 cups low-fat cheddar cheese
2 sweet red peppers, coarsely chopped
1 cup onions, coarsely chopped
4 garlic cloves, chopped
1/2 cup fresh basil
1 tbsp. olive oil

Preheat oven to 425°F. Mix red pepper, onions, and garlic with 1 Tbsp. of olive oil in 9 x 13 baking dish and roast in oven for 25 minutes; stirring occasionally.

While vegetables roast, remove casing from bratwurst, crumble and brown in a skillet over medium heat until they are no longer pink and well brown. Remove bratwurst and drain on paper towel. Pour fat from skillet. Add bratwurst and beer to skillet and simmer. Cook pasta according to package directions and drain, reserving 1/2 cup of pasta water.

Remove roasted vegetables from oven, immediately add bratwurst from skillet, add basil, pasta, 1 cup of cheese and toss to mix thoroughly. If mixture seems too dry, add some of the pasta water to moisten. Sprinkle remaining cheese over top and serve. Serves 10-12.

(Recipe from the National Pasta Association.)

“Iron Man” (2008)

Iron Man
Directed by Jon Favreau
Grade: B+

Honestly, I’ve never really been into comic books – or graphic novels, if that’s the preferred jargon. I’ve never been one to follow the adventures of Spiderman, the X-Men, Superman, Batman or Captain America, and, I’ll admit, this growing trend of superheroes blotting up the summer movie schedule year after year is becoming familiar and tiring. But, please don’t start shaking up the movie sked on my account – not just yet, anyway. If Hollywood can follow the example of Iron Man, I’ll be okay with continued product from DC Comics and Marvel Studios.

Iron Man is a thoroughly enjoyable piece of escapism that does exactly what it should do: take its time. As I said in my brief review of Jumper (2008), this genre tends to skimp on the set-up and gets straight to the action, with nothing to help us fully engage with the character. We need to see the development of a superpower and the way in which the person upon whom that power is bestowed deals with it. Character and power go hand-in-hand. Without it, the film becomes nothing more than a stunt show. Batman Begins (2005) was successful in this regard, and the same can be said for Iron Man. In both films we see the growth of a hero, and it’s the growth that fosters conflict, the catalyst of any good story. In the case of Jumper, which really could have been an interesting examination into the abuse of power, sidesteps any kind of foundation and quickly (and without remorse) punts us into the film’s second act. Conversely, Iron Man gets suited up gradually, developing a character from man to machine, and never forgets that there is a principle – a well-defined reason – behind his actions.

Robert Downey Jr. fits comfortably into the role of Tony Stark, and it’s a joy to see him take center stage in some light, popcorn fare. Director Jon Favreau finally gets his sea legs in the effect-heavy, live action fantasy realm after a somewhat disappointing outing with Zathura: A Space Adventure (2005). Iron Man is a superhero film made by someone who really likes superheroes – there’s a love of comic books here that nicely translates to the screen without being the least bit pushy. Unfortunately, the film does succumb to a healthy tablespoon of predictability, but it’s a small blip on an otherwise can-I-get-an-amen start to the 2008 summer movie season.

Today the Goulash is serving up an iron-rich meal fit for any superhero. We call it Tony Stark’s Hot Rod Red Pepper and Liver Stir Fry.

1½ tbsp peanut oil
8 oz. liver, cut into strips
1 leek, diagonally sliced
1 red pepper, seeded and cut into rough squares
1 red chili, seeded and finely chopped
1 tsp dried oregano
1 garlic clove, crushed
4 oz. spring greens, thinly sliced
grated zest of 1 orange and 2 tbsp juice
2 tbsp medium dry sherry

Heat a tablespoon of the oil in a large non-stick frying pan. Add the liver and stir fry over a moderately high heat for 3 minutes until light brown - don’t cook for longer or the liver will become rubbery. Remove to a plate, leaving the juices in the pan. Tip the leek, red pepper and chili into the pan with the rest of the oil and stir fry over a high heat for 2 minutes. Add the oregano, garlic and greens and stir fry for a further 30 seconds or so, until the greens have just wilted and turned a nice bright green. Return the liver to the pan, add the orange zest and juice, sherry, then season. Toss everything together on a high heat and serve immediately. Serves two.

(Recipe from Good Food magazine, March 2003.)

“Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull” (2008)

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
Directed by Steven Spielberg
Grade: C-

Like the third Jurassic Park movie, it’s as if someone new stepped into Spielberg’s shoes, took over the helm of the Indiana Jones franchise and did their best to try to stay true to the series, only to craft together an installment that gets off to a whip-cracking start and then trades its soul for a rather weak story, outlandish suspension of disbelief and humor that, in places, smacks of Jar Jar Binks.

While popcorn fun on its own merit, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is by far the weakest of the four films. What’s disappointing about this film, and ultimately where the series has gone, is that it has taken its cue from George Lucas and slipped into the campy, humorous adventure zone rather than the sincere rock ‘em sock ‘em entertainment from which it built its original fan base. This is exactly what happened with Star Wars. It has become more cute than crisp. And in the fourth installment of the Indiana Jones series, there were moments that (I’ll be one to say it) just had no business being in an Indiana Jones movie. When desert rodents start playing the comic foil to Harrison Ford and tree monkeys offer up MacGyver-esque, you-gotta-see-it-to-believe-it escape routes, you know that the Indiana Jones films have more pressing issues to deal with than aging cast members.

Speaking of which: I’m all for incorporating Indy’s/Harrison’s age into the story line. People get old. After all, it’s not the years – it’s the mileage. But when the actor’s age affects the pacing of the action, then you’ve got a problem. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull had many spots where it felt as if the camera operators and editors had to lag behind a bit to wait for Indy to catch up. Back in the day, when Indiana ran across high catwalks avoiding a barrage of near-missing bullets, you accepted that he was just one lucky, nimble sonofabitch. However, in this outing, Indy lumbers along like a slow moving bull’s-eye and you can’t help but feel as if his enemies are nothing more than piss-poor shots. Take aim, Gomer Pyle – it takes the old man five seconds to get around a corner, for Pete’s sake.

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull tries too hard to be what it thinks it needs to be. It’s forced in every way. With surface-level characters that add little more to the film than waxing the nostalgic, and long-winded chase sequences that grossly defy even the most simplistic laws of physics, not to mention a climax and denouement that’ll have the audience offering a collectively disappointed sigh, the fourth – and hopefully final – chapter of the Indiana Jones series fails to recapture the heart of its predecessors and follows too closely in the footsteps of Lucas’ desire to once again reintroduce a classic franchise to a modern generation.

Nickel List #7: The Simple Title Sequence

In case you’ve missed it, Piper over at Lazy Eye Theatre posted a fun piece on elaborate opening title sequences entitled “Credit Mayhem Part 1″ (and will obviously have more to offer on the subject shortly). Credit sequences certainly are an art unto themselves and there have been some creative and innovative ones throughout film history – thanks to Piper for turning the spotlight onto them.

And yet, let us not forget the unsung heroes of the credit sequence. Let us not shun the simple and plain for the lustful allure of the intricate and complex. I’m talking about the 1980s. I’m talking about a prologue of virtually nothing.

I’m talking about white titles on black.

That’s it. Nothing more. It was a straightforward, uncomplicated and trouble-free two minutes of watching names flash on a screen set to a pop song or an orchestral score to set the tone and hook us into buying the soundtrack cassette. It was an attempt by moviemakers in the neon era to take the musical overtures of the golden age and put them to practical use by sneaking the formalities by us.

There was nothing flashy about them, but some of the most memorable credit sequences were these innocent, little preambles – and to this day, these simple sequences play prologue to some of our favorite 80s films. Therefore, here are my picks for the best no-design opening title sequences that have, at least for this writer, staked a special claim in my memory.

As usual, in no particular order:

1. Fletch (1985)

1985 was a good year for movies. This title sequence only takes the credits about halfway before finishing them up over the opening beach scene, but it’s enough, with its cheesy, somewhat out-of-place pop theme – “Bit By Bit (Theme From Fletch)” by Stephanie Mills – to set the jocular tone.

2. The Breakfast Club (1985)

Another fine entry from 1985. If you grew up in the 80s, you know the first two beats of this opening by heart. The Universal logo appears, a cymbal crash and a killer drum beat sends you on your way. Not a better pairing than this title/music combo. “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” by Simple Minds will always be remembered for this opening.

3. She’s Having a Baby (1988)

Another John Hughes film. “It’s All In The Game” by Carmel adds a mature and loving quality to the sequence, forewarning us that Hughes is graduating from high school cinema and taking on heavier adult subject matter, while keeping it light. Can’t remember it? Carmel’s music video, strangely featuring Emma Thompson and Alfred Molina, can be seen here.

4. Hellraiser (1987)

It was dark and foreboding, and this simple title credit sequence truly pinned you to your seat and made you slink into your popcorn while your date already had her eyes covered. The original score by Christopher Young is priceless in this overture. One of my first horror film experiences in the movie theater.

5. Blade Runner (1982)

Okay, so it’s red titles on black, but this opening sequence, featuring a phenomenal musical score by Vangelis, never gets old. Eerie and especially simple. The payoff: the glorious, widescreen fade-in on the future of Los Angeles. I liken it to the thrilling ascent on a jaw-dropping rollercoaster. This sequence is a top-notch waiting game to get to the really good stuff.

Got a favorite simple title sequence, let me know, and be sure to get in on Piper’s discussion at Lazy Eye Theatre.

“Half Nelson” (2006)

Half Nelson
Directed by Ryan Fleck
Grade: B-

American movie-going audiences are secretly enamored by watching the implosion of others. We take pleasure in playing witness to the downward spiral of our fictitious other, knowing full well we can experience the ride from the comfort and safety of a darkened theater and that we can thank the heavens that, when the credits roll, we may retreat from the on-screen self through which we have lived vicariously, if only for a while. Half Nelson continues that long tradition of self-destruction ala Hollywood – see Leaving Las Vegas (1995) and The Lost Weekend (1945) – complete with alcoholic wishes and crack pipe dreams.

Director Ryan Fleck’s feature film debut follows the deepening inebriation of a middle school history teacher, Dan Dunne, (precisely driven by an Oscar-nominated Ryan Gosling) whose hidden extracurricular activities quickly become his most prominent feature. As Dan continuously attempts to have a better go than the day before, his hangovers become heavier and each mistake made in a drug-induced haze ultimately turns out to be more damning than the last. It is only when his teacher-student relationship with street-hardened Drey (Shareeka Epps) evolves into a more substantial and complicated friendship does Dan begin to take some stock in himself.

As the film begins to take shape, Fleck does provide some interesting commentary on the comparison of Dan’s lifestyle to the irony surrounding the socially-accepted vices of those around him, particularly within the framework of his own family. The wine and spirits flow freely at the Dunne household at dinner time, and Dan soon sees that even his brother’s new girlfriend, who has been brought home to meet the parents, is uneasy at the level of consumption throughout the course of the evening.

Dan’s temptations, choices and consequences are nicely paralleled with those of Drey – she is lured onto the path that follows in the footsteps of her incarcerated brother – and we watch helplessly as both inch further and further away from the people we know they really are. We root for them, but can’t turn away from the train wreck. All this personal demolition, however, culminates into a far-too-convenient encounter that brings everything to a head, and a resolution that smacks of enough ambiguity and hope to leave you optimistic, yet unsatisfied.

Unfortunately, Half Nelson loses points for its inability to lock down a shot. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; there’s a big difference between going handheld for style and forcing style upon your handheld. One is the attempt to capture the scene without the sticks and knowing that you are trying to achieve a steady, yet unpolished image; the other is over-thinking the handheld style and nauseating your audience into submission. The Constant Gardener (2005) and even Woody Allen’s Husbands and Wives (1992) are also accomplices in this practice (although once you take your Dramamine, the latter becomes a rather fine film.) I’ll concede that I fully understand what Fleck is reaching for in his seemingly raw and unfiltered approach to the material – the point was well made – and yet, there were scenes where his handheld-for-effect trips over the pretentious and never regains balance.

Half Nelson is worth viewing if only to take in the performances of Gosling and Epps and a smart, gritty script penned by Ryan Fleck and Anna Boden. It appears as if the self-destructive role is truly an actor’s prize – and for those of us who find comfort in watching characters struggle to climb from their own holes, these types of films are a genre in itself and a gift that Hollywood seems to enjoy giving year after year.

“Ten Canoes” (2006)

Ten Canoes
Directed by Rolf de Heer (co-directed by Peter Djigirr)
Grade: A-

Rolf de Heer’s award-winning Ten Canoes, a charming and engaging cinematic experience at eye level, is more of an intriguing study into ancient Aboriginal society and culture and a visual document on the art of oral storytelling. Its themes of family, honor, and rites of passage are universal and we transcend from our modern-day, Western expectations with surprising ease to a society that lives by basic rules and mores. The soul of Ten Canoes resonates like the tale told near a late night campfire, or a fable read at a children’s story hour, or a historic account shared by a nostalgic grandfather – stories always offered with care. Ten Canoes holds dear that oral tradition and trusts its story, and the means by which it is told, will bring us to a place where basic principles always outmaneuver complex issues, and the connective tissue of humanity has the ability to span races and generations.

During a goose egg hunt in the Arnhem Land Region of Northern Australia, it is revealed that youthful Dayindi (Jamie Gulpilil) has taken a fancy to the youngest of his elder brother’s three wives. As the group of Aboriginal men construct their canoes and set out on the hunt, the elder brother, Minygululu (Peter Minygululu), shares an ancestral parable about a warrior named Ridjimiraril and his own three wives, the youngest of whom is the object of his brother’s affection. It is a tale of fidelity and jealousy that comes not without mistaken identities, tribal comeuppances, and a key lesson to be passed down through the ages.

The film embarks on a journey that requires its narrative to be told from two points of contact: the narrator of the film and Minygululu. It is a story told within a story told within a story. The film begins in the present as the narrator gives us a brief overview about his people then quickly leads us into the distant past. From there, the goose egg hunt unfolds and Minygululu, with the help of the narrator, takes us into what is known as the mythical past. The shifting ages of time in the film are cleverly and effectively kept in check by the use of black and white for the goose egg hunt scenes, and color for the present and mythical past segments.

Although De Heer has received criticism for being a white director helming a film about an indigenous people, much like the criticism Steven Spielberg received for his role in directing The Color of Purple (1985), Ten Canoes is successfully carried on its authenticity and sense of humor, with a cast that proudly and playfully contributes its heritage to a project directed by an outsider who takes his film’s subject matter seriously and with due respect. There is a strong sense that, while De Heer was the overseer of the project, much of the native culture and tongue brought to the screen was done so through a fascinating collaboration with the film’s credited co-director, Peter Djigirr (who also acts in the film), David Gulpilil (the film’s narrator) and the Yolngu people of Ramingining. Side note: Therese Davis has written a wonderful little piece on this collaboration which is posted on the Senses of Cinema site. Read it here.

My only real criticism of the film is that sometimes the narration can get in its own way. Unfortunately, the oral tradition of storytelling needs to be accommodating to the visual requirements of cinema; as charismatic and welcoming the narration is throughout the course of the film, too much narration is never a good thing and there are a few select moments where the visual conveys what is necessary and the narration only belabors the obvious. However, if you can look beyond the occasional overuse of narration, the voiceover becomes more a part of the film’s anthropological quality than a device.

I’ve been touring some Australian wines as of late (see my note on The Lackey, a nice Australian Shiraz that happened to be within reach during my viewing of Into the Wild), and it’s only appropriate that I have one paired here. Today, Cinema Goulash has uncorked a 2005 Evil Cabernet from R Winery. Let this one breathe a little, as it’s surprisingly sweet, startling even, on the first few swallows. Soon, its intended richness will bloom. Vanilla will start things off, dark fruits will meet you mid-way, and you’ll finish with toasty cedar and cocoa. Didn’t quite reach the status attained by The Lackey, but certainly robust enough to keep me happy. This much character for ten dollars? By all means, mate, give it a burl.

Note: You might have noticed that we’ve added a category called “Netflixed”. The wife and I are new to Netflix and we’re lovin’ it. Now you’ll be able to see what’s been showing up in our mailbox as of late. Ten Canoes is the first film from our list. Perhaps you’ll find something worthy of being put in your own queue. Enjoy!

Pack your knives and go… to the movies!

Yummy! Did you happen to catch Top Chef Wednesday night? The Goulash household watches it religiously. This episode (Season 4, Episode 4) was worthy of note as Padma (again, yummy!), Tom, and the Top Chef gang ambled into the wonderful world of film and food. With Chef Daniel Boulud as this week’s guest judge, the contestants sharpened up the knives and went to quick work crafting up eats fit for a group of film-loving diners, which included movie critic Richard Roeper and actress Aisha Tyler.

The contestants were asked to pair up, pick a movie, and then whip up a delight inspired by their film. Here’s a rundown of the chosen movies and their respective dishes:

Film: Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971)
Dish: Smoked Salmon with Faux Caviar & White Chocolate Wasabi Sauce. [Recipe]

Film: Good Morning, Vietnam (1987)
Dish: Summer Roll with Black Vermicelli. [Recipe]

Film: Talk to Her (2002)
Dish: Rack of Lamb with Saffron Cauliflower Puree. [Recipe]

Film: Il Postino (1994)
Dish: Tortellini with Cavolo Nero. [Recipe]

Film: A Christmas Story (1983)
Dish: Quail Breast with Carrot Puree, Cranberry Chutney & Quail Spring Rolls. [Recipe]

Film: Top Secret (1984)
Dish: NY Strip Steak, Braised Short Rib & Apple Potsticker with Caramel Sauce. [Recipe]

Hmm. I’ll have to try these pairings for myself and report back.