REVIEW: The Polka King

It's generally accepted that the worst thing a film can be is mediocre; when it lands right in the middle of not being exceptionally good or bad and ends up just being "okay". An unironically great film is the ideal that all (or at least most) filmmakers strive for, whereas a so-bad-it's-good flick can provide hours upon hours (hell, possibly even years) of entertainment. When a film's greatest accolade is that it's competently made, you run into real trouble; fortunately, even the most middling movie can eek by, so long as it has the support of a strong focal point. In the case of The Polka King, a biopic comedy released straight to Netflix, that focal point is Jack Black. Turn up your nose all you wish, I still feel that Jack Black is a supremely under-utilized performer. His casting in Peter Jackson's King Kong struck many as a total shot in the dark, but smaller films like this and Bernie demonstrate what an endearing character actor he can be when allowed to break out of his mold a little. I love Tenacious D as much as the next guy, but it's clear there's potential that Kung Fu Panda just isn't tapping.

The plot follows the real-life story of Pennsylvania Polka King, Jan Lewan (Black), a happy-go-lucky immigrant from Poland looking to make it big in the land of opportunity. To help sustain his struggling polka band, Jan begins accepting investments from his elderly fans, inadvertently creating a Ponzi scheme. The conflict between Jan's guilt and the mental gymnastics he performs in order to stay the course make up the primary conflict of the movie; the film creates an interesting moral dilemma and leaves it up to the viewer to cast judgement for themselves. I can't say whether or not the real-life Jan Lewan was so altrusitic in his intentions, but Black's take on the band leader paints a portrait of an optimist who simply wants to do right by those around him. Like with Bernie, he plays a nice, endearing guy who does something terrible. He does what he does entirely in pursuit of the American dream, a well-meaning immigrant who only seeks to do right by those around him in the land of opportunity. Whether or not you choose to buy this as justification for his actions is left entirely up in the air, and that, I feel, is where the movie's most interesting detail comes into play.

Audience interpretation can play a large part in a number of films (arguably every film), but here it's served up as the main course; how much should intent factor into the way we judge criminals? Is the character of Jan Lewan a genuine dreamer who simply got carried away in following his passions? Or is he little more than a grinning egomaniac, too in love with the sound of his own voice? He cons old couples out of their money, but he does make a genuine effort to return their investment and make things right. We see him using religion to justify his actions, attending confession whenever the guilt starts to get to him. But when retribution finally does come, he welcomes it with open arms and a smile on his face, overjoyed that God is making things right. We see this endearing, friendly man lie, cheat, and steal for what he claims to be only the purest of reasons, but we're still left feeling a trace of doubt and inherent distrust. We see him go about his merry work, using his natural charisma and folksy foreign charm to manipulate those around him, and we're forced to ask ourselves, "do you think the professional showman is just putting on an act?"

While this moral quandry is by far the most interesting takeaway the film has to offer, it also enables the film's greatest flaw, namely in that it doesn't make any kind of statement of its own. There's an inkling of some kind of underlying theme regarding the way we view immigrants (especially those who eagerly attempt to integrate during their pursuit of the American dream), but the whole thing still ends up feeling noncommittal (except for one oddball exchange between two SEC agents that comes off like a blunt soliloquy condemning Libertarianism). Without a strong central theme or message, the plot ends up feeling like a series of events, moving from one scene to another without feeling entirely structured (this becomes more of a problem in the latter half). Not to say that every film needs to present some kind of revolutionary moral (especially one adapted from real-world events), but it certainly would have helped the structure. Thematically-speaking, the viewer is doing most of the work, so it feels a little lacking in terms of artistic intent (even if the story and characters are all interesting people).

For what it is, The Polka King is a fine time. Its main problem is that the level of depth here is dependent entirely on how deep the viewer is willing to dig. It makes up for its lack of structure and themeing with a host of fun performances and a fascinating story that's so strange it simply had to be true. It's easy to say Jack Black carries the entire thing, but he's backed up by a really solid supporting cast (especially Jackie Weaver as Jan's skeptical mother-in-law). It captures the "small-town legend" tone exceedingly well; it's an entertaining little story, and even if that's all it is, I still enjoyed my time with it.

REVIEW: A Futile and Stupid Gesture

The practice of tackling a biopic is often an interesting beast. Like with adaptations of fictional works, filmmakers need to find ways to skirt around the inherent conflict that tends to arise between staying accurate to the source material and the story's ability to stand on its own as a work of film. It's (usually) not enough to just reenact real-world events without some kind of creative spin; this was one of my main issues with The Disaster Artist. A tremendously well-acted and entertaining movie, yes, but with disappointingly modest ambitions. Some of my favorite films of all time, such as Ed Wood and American Splendor, find unique and interesting ways to tell the (mostly) true stories of notable individuals. Even though the bulk of the story has been written by life itself, it's still the filmmaker's responsibility to turn someone's life into a story worth telling (and more importantly, worth watching). Which brings us to one of the more recent independent films released through Netflix, A Futile and Stupid Gesture.

The film tells the story of the life and times of Doug Kenney (Will Forte), the main creative force behind the iconic humor magazine, National Lampoon. The film covers Kenney's rise and fall, from his time at Harvard through the creation of films like Animal House and Caddyshack. I will admit, I wasn't exactly well-read on the subject of Doug Kenney before watching this movie, and I feel my overall experience was better off for it. I'd recommend at least being familiar with the classic Lampoon films, as well as the early days of Saturday Night Live to fully appreciate the context that the story takes place within, but any research into Kenney's actual life risks spoiling the movie. Shocker, I know; if you already know the true story, then you'll be able to predict how the biopic ends. Without going too deep into spoiler territory, I'll simply say that, taking certain narrative devices the film uses into account, entering altogether unfamiliar with Doug Kenney as a person (as I did) will only serve to enhance the viewing experience. I'll say this and nothing more.

When you're working with adapting a real-life story, it's important to understand that your main character needs to function as more than just an excuse to adapt the events of their life to the screen; it doesn't matter how fascinating their situation is if they don't work properly as an engaging protagonist. Thankfully, director David Wain (of Wet Hot American Summer fame) understands this and spends ample amounts of time building Kenney up as a complex and nuanced character. As a human, he's deeply flawed; we see the darker side of a humorous personality, as he's always starved for attention and affirmation. This underlying desire to be loved is the driving force that fuels nearly all of the misfortune Doug manages to make for himself over the course of the film. At the same time, we also see why Doug is like this; every creative choice he makes seems to be either an appeal or attack directed towards his estranged father (played here by Harry Groener). This doesn't excuse the less-savory decisions Doug makes, but it does offer some insight as to why he makes them. That trace amount of context, explaining his actions without attempting to condone them, is what allows us to effectively sympathize with our protagonist. Although this is the story of the man behind the National Lampoon, it's worth noting that this story is much less a comedy and moreso a sardonic tragedy.

Don't get me wrong here, there are a good number of jokes in this film, they're simply not the main focus. The humor present in this film is a symptom of its subject matter rather than the primary focus, so anyone looking for something as bombastic and laugh-out-loud funny as Animal House is going to be left wanting (and likely a little depressed). The film uses comedy to effectively paint a portrait of a man who, deep down inside, is hurting. My only complaint is that we don't get too many "real" moments with the extended cast; to be fair, I almost feel as though that's what the filmmakers were going for. Every other comedy writer at the Lampoon has a hard time turning it off, spitting out one-liners even when a situation clearly calls for anything but. It illustrates how an environment of sarcastic misfits and misanthropes often isn't the best place for someone who truly needs help (sharply contrasting with the camaraderie we see among the endearing slobs of Animal House and Caddyshack). At the same time, this also leaves Doug Kenney and Henry Beard (Doug's college collaborator, played by an unrecognizable Domhnall Gleeson) feeling like the only fleshed-out, three-dimensional characters in the entire movie. Suffice to say, it's something of a double-edged sword.

Speaking of, I also foresee some of the casting being quite hit-or-miss for some people. The main cadre of lead actors is relatively airtight; Forte continues to demonstrate his chops as a legitimate dramatic actor, giving us a raw, decidedly un-Hollywood look at the kind of misanthropic personality that is usually obscured behind a series of well-meaning gags. Kenney strikes you as the kind of class-clown personality everyone wishes they knew; quick with a joke, down to party, and chock full of potential for amazing stories down the line. But Forte manages to pull the curtain back and expose just how much pain and damage is hiding behind such a bombastic facade. This is where Gleeson compliments Forte perfectly, keeping all of his frustration inside. We see Henry forced to clean up after Doug time and time again, making their friendship feel much more flawed (and much more realistic) than the frat boy antics one might expect going in. The two work in tandem, illustrating just how dangerous it can be to have something to prove without the perspective needed to understand when a lifelong passion devolves to just being work. We also have Martin Mull, but I don't want to say too much; he's very much a part of that narrative device I mentioned earlier, and the less you know about his purpose in this film going in, the better. But it's Martin Mull, so of course he does a good job.

On the more controversial side, we have every other supporting cast member portraying comedic icons like Gilda Radner (Jackie Tohn), Chevy Chase (Joel McHale), and Christopher Guest (Seth Green). The film even breaks the fourth wall (as it frequently does) to address the audience and point out how these actors don't look exactly like the people they're meant to be portraying (before presenting a lengthy list of other creative changes the filmmakers made over the course of production); while not everyone is going to be totally sold on these performances (there's nothing here that even comes close to Martin Landau's take on Bela Lugosi, for example), I still had my fun picking out who was meant to be who. It almost feels like voices played a greater role here than appearance; while some members of the cast definitely look the part (Lonny Ross and Rick Glassmen are dead-ringers for Ivan Reitman and Harold Ramis), there are others who definitely struggle to blend in. Joel McHale looks nothing like Chevy Chase; really, he looks more like Joel McHale about to attend a 70's theme party in a wig he bought for $5 at the local Spirit Halloween. At the same time, when he reads off his lines on the The National Lampoon Radio Hour, he does sound startlingly like Chevy Chase. The same goes for Jon Daly as Billy Murray; there's little to no physical resemblance, but damned if he doesn't have Murray's Lounge Singer voice down perfectly. Like I said, these performances are going to be much more hit-or-miss depending on who's watching, but I definitely had my fun with them. You get the impression that everyone is having fun paying tribute to the comedic minds that influenced them from an early age, and that sense of fun and reverence really elevates these performances beyond the simple impressions they appear to be at first glance.

While I definitely foresee the slow pace, dry humor, and offbeat presentation alienating some, I still found A Futile and Stupid Gesture to be anything but. I can't emphasize enough; this is not a comedy. It is a drama about comedy. All that said, there's still an oddly feel-good undercurrent to the whole thing. It's a bittersweet story with all manner of emotional ups and downs, the kind of film where the viewer is left either feeling touched or depressed or both (depending entirely on who happens to be watching it). That kind of parity makes it a challenge to recommend to just anyone, so I'll close by saying this; this is a film about creative types, for creative types. Beneath every comedian and class clown, there's often years upon years of bottled-up pain. A deep-seated need for not only attention, but affirmation and acceptance. It's a film about insecurity, abuse, and the kind of humor that, to this day, makes the upper-crust of society spit out their champagne and clutch at their pearls. We see a man with a clear set of goals and aspirations build himself up, then question if he's strong enough to continue living the dream he himself has made. If you've ever wondered if your work truly matters, regardless of what field you're in, you owe it to yourself to check this one out.

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REVIEW: The Disaster Artist

Every once in a while, a movie comes along that changes everything. Something magical, that captures the hearts and imaginations of people from all walks of life, all around the world. When it comes to the realm of "so bad it's good", few movies can compare to 2003's The Room, a film so spellbindingly inept, it's been called the Citizen Kane of bad movies. There have been many pretenders, films that aim for the gutter in an attempt to score ironic laughs with bad performances and cheap production values, but they all lack the one thing that truly makes The Room special. See, there's a trick to making a film that ends up being so bad it's good; the key is to do it by accident. The Room was born of passion, not parody, everything you see on screen is the result of people unironically trying their best, yet failing miserably anyway. It's this sense of raw effort that people latch onto, that oh-so human feeling of seeing our best efforts laid to waste, that makes The Room so engaging. Anyone can give a bad performance, but the fact that the person giving the performance is a man like Tommy Wiseau, an enigmatic cartoon character who truly believes with all his heart that he's the next Tennessee Williams, is what makes The Room work in the way that it does. There's no cynicism to it whatsoever, and the cult of personality that's formed around it in the years since its release has finally come to a head with The Disaster Artist.

Taking place over the course of several years, the film tells the story of how Greg Sestero (the author of the book on which the film is based and co-star of The Room, played here by Dave Franco) came to meet the man who would change his life forever, Tommy Wiseau (played uncannily by his brother, James Franco). Young and insecure, Greg finds himself fascinated with Tommy's fearlessness on stage (despite his clear lack of talent); the two form an oddball friendship and move to Los Angeles with dreams of making it big in Hollywood. After striking out time and time again, Tommy decides to simply make his own movie; his personal magnum opus, a classical drama known as The Room. 

It's obvious from the get-go that The Disaster Artist is very much a passion project for James Franco; much like The Room itself, this is a film where the director is also the producer and the producer is also the star. I've also heard that apparently Franco directed this in-character as Tommy Wiseau (how that worked out is anyone's guess). There's a clear admiration for the source material, almost to the point that it interferes with the story. James Franco is a dead-on Tommy Wiseau, but there are also times where this whole thing feels just like an excuse for him to play this role (such as the tremendously fun but somewhat pointless montage during the credits, where the Disaster Artist cast recreates scenes from The Room). Thankfully, the focus of the film tends to revolve moreso around Greg and Tommy's weirdly codependent relationship than the actual making of The Room itself. This is where the film really shines, in showcasing what happened behind the camera rather than what happened in front of it. While it's certainly fun to see people reenact famous scenes and moments from such an iconic trainwreck, it doesn't really bring anything new to the table. If I wanted to watch The Room, I'd watch The Room; it's when we gain extra insight into the emotions and motivations of the people responsible for such an infamous bomb that things really start to get interesting.

There's a detail in this film that really resonated with me after having watched it; in The Room, there's a character known as Denny (played originally by Philip Haldiman, and here by Josh Hutcherson). Of every weird, inexplicable thing in The Room, Denny may have been my favorite. He's an awkward wimp of indeterminate age who treats Johnny (Wiseau's character) like a surrogate father. He shows up out of nowhere and it's really never explained what his and Johnny's hilariously uncomfortable relationship is actually supposed to be. However, having seen the way The Disaster Artist portrays Tommy and Greg's relationship, the character of Denny (a confused, insecure young man whom Tommy Wiseau's character takes under his wing out of the goodness of his heart) suddenly starts to make a lot more sense. We see the parallels between reality and Wiseau's incomprehensible fiction, and it's details like this that really exemplify what I wanted this movie to be.

The only problem is that we end up seeing these events unfold through the eyes of Greg Sestero, rather than Tommy Wiseau. No offense to Greg, but I feel like even he'd agree that his side of the story is likely far less interesting than Tommy's. Given how secretive the real Tommy Wiseau is (to this day, his age and country of origin remain a mystery), we don't get a lot of his perspective over the course of the story; our two leads end up having very little screentime apart from one another, so it feels like the main characters aren't exactly explored to their fullest potential. Little insights that give a sort of method to the madness of The Room are far more fascinating and engaging (both in a biographical and a narrative sense) than simple recreations of scenes. This problem is exasperated by the two lead actors; being real-life siblings, they exhibit excellent chemistry, yet I couldn't help but feel that Dave Franco was constantly getting overshadowed by his older brother. It can't be easy to show off one's screen presence when sharing the stage with a character as emotive and bombastic as James Franco's take on Tommy Wiseau, but Dave's range still felt, for the most part, lacking (despite an admittedly respectable effort).

Really, despite enjoying this movie for what it was, I can't help but feel as though it was weighed down by its association with the real-life Tommy Wiseau. Unlike something like Ed Wood, the main subject of The Disaster Artist was very much alive and well at the time of production, meaning that Wiseau was involved in promoting this film (as well as putting together his post-credits cameo scene). As such, it almost feels like The Disaster Artist pulls its punches when it comes to the less-savory aspects of Tommy's character (especially when compared to its source material). There's a lot of implicit ugliness with Tommy; we're never sure where he gets his money (but can assume it's through less than legitimate means), he's shown to be emotionally unstable and manipulative, as well as being prone to aggressive outbursts while constantly mistreating his actors and his crew. Even with all this in mind, the film still frames him as a sympathetic, misunderstood dreamer. This approach worked well in Ed Wood (which all but ignored the titular character's steady decline into poverty, pornography, and alcoholism), since that portrait of a hopelessly flawed filmmaker took on an almost fairytale-like tone. With The Disaster Artist, things are presented with a much more naturalistic approach in terms of cinematography, performance, and atmosphere, so this kind of flattering portrayal ends up feeling somewhat forced and out of place. I can't fault Franco and company for wanting to be civil in their depiction of Tommy Wiseau (considering he gave the film his blessing), but I can't help feeling that a more realistic, flawed portrayal would have been infinitely more interesting, as well as much more in-line with what the rest of the movie had to offer.

Historical inaccuracies and dubious romanticization aside, I still managed to really get something out of  James Franco's take on the creation of The Room. There's something classically compelling about a character who strives fruitlessly for an unattainable ideal, only to fall short thanks to their own personal faults and flaws. Tommy is completely oblivious to how inept he is; as far as he's concerned, he'd be the next James Dean or Alfred Hitchcock if only the rest of the world would stop getting in his way. We see how persecuted he feels, constantly failing in real life, and how that translates to everyone "betraying" Johnny in The Room. Eventually, we start to understand just what he means when he takes the stage at the premiere during the film's climax and declares in his broken, unplaceable accent, "this my movie, and this my life". What's been known up to this point as one of the most absurdly hilarious things ever committed to film suddenly starts to look a lot more like therapy for its writer/director/producer/star, and regardless of how accurate it is to real-life events (realistically speaking, we may never know the full story about Tommy Wiseau and The Room), it still manages to take one of the funniest bad movies ever made and use it to generate compelling character drama. The character of Tommy Wiseau exhibits such an undeniably human blend of blind optimism and raw ego that you can't help but root for him (even if the real-life events were far less of a feel-good story than what we see here). This all comes to a head at the premiere, when we finally see the finished product, the film that all of these characters have struggled and suffered for; you find yourself laughing along with the characters in the movie (because come on, it's The Room), but you've also come to understand the passion that Tommy had for his vision. Every chuckle comes at an emotional price, and I found myself feeling surprisingly sorry for someone who I should, by all accounts, hold very little sympathy for.

If you're looking for a documentary that tells the untold story of The Room, you're not going to find what you're looking for here. The goal of The Disaster Artist is not to unravel the mystery surrounding Tommy Wiseau. While I do wish it had perhaps focused on more of the inherently interesting aspects of the true story, this is still a tremendously entertaining parable about an outcast and his art. There's something magical about making movies; the vision, passion, and struggle that goes into creating something from nothing and committing it to film. This is a feeling that The Disaster Artist totally understands. Sure, I would have liked a bit more in terms of style, substance, and focus, but the end result is still a hilariously enjoyable time that I see myself revisiting many times down the line. Whether or not you've ever seen The Room, you'd be remiss not to give this one a look.

REVIEW: Ed Wood

It's no secret that I'm a tremendous fan of the early works of Tim Burton; while his more recent turnout has left me wanting, it's inarguable that the man possesses a great knack for thematic styling, showcasing the strange and unorthodox in the spotlight it is so frequently denied. Like Batman and Beetlejuice, Ed Wood is the story of a societal outcast in a world that seldom understands or appreciates what they have to offer. Unlike those other films, however, I believe that Ed Wood alone holds the distinction of being Burton's finest work of all time.

Taking the form of a pseudo-biography, the film follows the man who would go on to be known as the worst director of all time, Edward D. Wood Jr (Johnny Depp). Struggling to break into the film industry, Wood finally gets his shot after befriending aging horror icon, Bela Lugosi (Martin Landau); even though Lugosi's career was essentially over, his remaining star power is enough to jumpstart production of Wood's first feature film, Glen or Glenda. What follows is the story of an eternal optimist, never giving up on his dreams despite essentially the entire world imploring him to do so. While the events shown in the film aren't exactly 100% accurate (it's been said that the real Lugosi never possessed such a penchant for profanity), the overall story is put together in such a fashion that capturing the spirit of Ed Wood and his cohorts is the primary goal (which the film accomplishes soundly).

Surprisingly, this is one of the few Tim Burton films that lacks the more recognizable staples of his signature aesthetic. As the plot is based on a true story, the whole thing is more reliant on the characters to drive the tone and emotion. Burton's visual flair is still very much present, just moreso understated and subtle than usual, and the film is better off for it. Shooting the film in black and white is a stroke of brilliance; like Young Frankenstein, this is a movie that simply would not work nearly as well had it been shot in color. The grayscale adds just the perfect old Hollywood tone that completely immerses the viewer in the time period. There's also some truly magnificent camerawork and shot composition at play here; for instance, take note of the first and last times we see Martin Landau as Bela Lugosi on screen. Scenes and shots from Wood's various films were recreated with admirable attention to detail, and it's the clear amount of effort given to seemingly negligible minutia like this which makes this film so much fun to watch. It's a feast for the eyes that manages to establish a strong emotional connection to the viewer to boot.

The performances here are all top-knotch; not a single weak link exists within this cast. The role of Ed Wood was the part Johnny Depp was born to play; there's not a single person who comes to mind who could do the job better. Depp's notorious for being something of a chameleon when the part is anything beyond "weird guy in a weird hat", and Ed Wood is no exception. He completely buries himself in the part; everything from his inflections to his eyebrows convey his tireless optimism and dedication to making his movies, no matter the cost. Martin Landau's portrayal of Bela Lugosi won an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor, an accolade that is well-deserved. He plays Lugosi in a way that is hilarious for the same reason it's so heartbreaking; we get to see this iconic actor end up a foul-mouthed, misanthropic old has-been, which is really quite funny, except for when it's not. The film doesn't shy away from Bela Lugosi's very real battle with morphine addiction, and it never ceases to cause a chill whenever it's brought up. Depp and Landau share a magical chemistry on-screen, resulting in one of the most genuinely feel-good cinematic friendships I've ever seen.

The supporting cast is littered with great talent like Sarah Jessica Parker, Bill Murray, and Jeffery Jones. Special consideration must be given to George "The Animal" Steele, for his spot-on portrayal of Tor Johnson; whether this is a testament to his acting ability or an unintended insult, he does an amazing job regardless. Vincent D'Onofrio has a short cameo as Orson Welles, with an uncredited Maurice LeMarche providing the voice. While the dub is a bit jarring at first, the effect is really quite uncanny and made for one of my favorite scenes in the entire film. As I said before, this is very much a character-driven film, so it's monumentally important that the cast is as strong as it is. If the majority of the performances were mediocre, the majority of the film would be mediocre. Fortunately, the performances here are fantastic, and the rest of the film follows suit.

Ed Wood is an all-around wonderful film. It's a look at one of the most bizarre visionaries to ever live that manages to be just as earnest as its main character. While the films of Edward D. Wood Jr are remembered as "so bad they're good" at best, Ed Wood does not seek to make fun. Rather, it celebrates the titular director's legacy, not for what it was, but for what he as a filmmaker represented. The integrity of an artist's vision, the tireless pursuit of one's dreams, and the constant reminder that you should always appreciate your own work, as there is no guarantee that anyone else will. If you haven't seen this yet, you're truly missing out. It's a love-letter to the underdogs that fits like a fresh angora sweater. Check it out.

REVIEW: Bronson

I'm gonna be honest, I haven't seen Tom Hardy in a number of things I've liked. Neither Inception nor The Dark Knight Rises exactly thrilled me, even though I felt he was one of the stronger aspects of the latter (silly voice aside). It wasn't until Mad Max: Fury Road that I realized he was definitely an actor to watch in every sense of the word, giving me the motivation to finally take a look at 2008's Bronson.

Hardy stars in the titular role as Michael Gordon "Charlie Bronson" Peterson, one of the UK's most dangerous inmates. Charlie tells his story to an audience of well-dressed theatergoers as a sort of one-man show as we see various moments from his life, from his first incarceration, through his stint in an asylum, all through to the present day (where the real Charlie Bronson is currently still incarcerated, practicing outsider art). Those looking for a clearly-structured, biographical take on Charlie's life story will be disappointed, as the plot structure is far from the main event here.

This film is less a story and more a character study; we never get to see any kind of "origin" for the man who would end up serving life imprisonment in Her Majesty's Prison Service. There's no pivotal scene where an innocent little boy is disturbed into becoming a violent psychopath, no attempt to rationalize or explain Michael Peterson's behavior. To do so would rob the character of any mystique or interest. He's fascinating because he can't be explained. This is a man who views prison cells as luxury hotel rooms and takes pleasure in stripping naked to engage guards in bareknuckle fisticuffs; the second you try to explain that, Charlie Bronson just becomes another loony on screen. As is, it makes you wonder what kind of life could have produced a person like this, and therein lies the true value of this film.

Tom Hardy may as well be the only member of the cast. This is by no means an ensemble piece and, while there are a few minor characters who play into the plot, Charlie is always the main focus (which makes sense, really, considering this is his story after all). The man is pure electricity; you never quite know what he's going to do at any given moment. There's seemingly no method to his madness, and the fact that his performance was praised and approved by the actual Michael Peterson only makes it that much more enthralling. His is a character made up of mystery meat; there's enough raw substance there that you could potentially postulate for hours as to what caused him to end up the way he is, but at the end of it all, you get the impression you'd probably be wrong. 

Tom Hardy plays the part with a mad kind of precision; you can't tell what's going on, but it feels as if he certainly does. If it wasn't for his performance, there'd be no movie. This story hinges entirely on the lead actor's ability to portray this larger-than-life figure, and Hardy more than succeeds. He manages to make you feel disgusted, sad, frightened, and above all just plain curious throughout the entire thing. He isn't just another violent lunatic in a movie, committing acts that are meant to come off as objectively good or bad. There's a multifaceted nuance to the character that comes with him being directly inspired by a real person that makes it very hard to place any kind of concrete feelings in regards to his actions. There are times when he's sweet and pitiable, just as there are times when he's savage and despicable. It's a role that requires a talented actor to pull it off successfully, and Tom Hardy exceeds all expectations.

Bronson is a film that, while unorthodox and a tad lacking in narrative direction, manages to be supremely thought-provoking thanks to the extraordinarily strong performance of Tom Hardy (and the extraordinarily fascinating person on whom the film is based). While it's not exactly the kind of film I would put on to unwind at the end of the day, I feel as though it certainly accomplishes its job of paining a nuanced portrait of a man who defies explanation. It's a wild time that definitely shouldn't be missed.

REVIEW: Goon

Let it be known at the start of this review that I do not watch hockey. I've never had even the slightest interest in the sport and nothing has ever made me even consider tuning in during a game. Nothing, that is, except for Goon, a 2011 sports comedy that is so adept at just about everything it sets out to do, it manages to not only sell me on the plot, characters, and performances, but on the sport it is based upon.

The story follows the almost comically good-hearted Doug Glatt (Sean William Scott, playing a character partially inspired by real-life hockey player Doug Smith); the black sheep of his family, Doug longs to find purpose in his life. While his father and brother are both successful doctors, Doug finds himself earning a living as a bouncer at a local dive bar thanks to his remarkable talent to utterly annihilate anyone who dares try and fight him. After an altercation at a hockey game, Doug is signed onto a team as an enforcer, stepping onto the ice purely for the purpose of protecting his teammates and thoroughly beating the tar out of any opponents who may pose a problem.

While the premise lends itself to a lot of wanton violence and bloodshed (make no mistake, things get brutal for a comedy), I was completely surprised by the sheer amount of heart to be found in this film. Sean William Scott is so completely lovable as Doug, coming off as not only funny, but genuinely sweet and innocent despite his penchant for dishing out sound beatings. He fights, not because he likes to destroy people, but because he likes to feel useful while protecting those he cares about. No one here gives a bad performance, but Scott's character is the shining beacon that makes this movie work as well as it does.

In the supporting cast, we have Jay Baruchel (also a writer, and director of the upcoming sequel) as Pat, Doug's foul-mouthed friend who hosts his own hockey-themed talk show on public access. It's a real credit to Baruchel's flexibility as an actor, considering that Pat is on the polar-opposite of the spectrum of character types that he usually plays. We also have Allison Pill as Eva, Doug's love interest. While I adore Allison Pill and think she did a fantastic job here, her character presents my only flaw with the entire movie. The primary romantic subplot involves Eva cheating on her unnamed boyfriend to be with Doug. While she shows a fair amount of guilt and conflict over her actions, she still receives a happy ending despite doing absolutely nothing to earn it. There's no arc or resolution to her conflict. She feels bad about her attraction to Doug, pursues her feelings anyway, and everything works out just fine. It's literally the only part of the entire film that I found in any way unsatisfying, which is disappointing, considering the rest of the film borders on perfection.

Filling the role of antagonist is Liev Schreiber as Ross Rhea, a hockey legend notorious for fouling and fighting anything that moves once he steps out onto the ice. Schreiber gives a great performance as usual and the character manages to come off as a genuine threat to our protagonist's goals without becoming cartoonishly evil. It's a great, understated performance that meshes well with the movie's generally down-to-earth tone. I also really enjoyed Kim Coates as Doug's coach, Ronnie Hortense, and Marc-André Grondin as Xavier LaFlamme, a once-promising prospect who was busted down to the minors after his social life spiraled out of control. If I mentioned everyone I thought gave a great performance, I'd just be listing the entire cast, so these are the few that I felt really stood out. Each character is excellently portrayed in a way that helps to sell the natural feel of the dialog; this is a movie that is very clearly a movie (it being an underdog sports story with humor, action, and romance), yet hardly ever feels like a production. It's a combination of The Bad News Bears and Rocky that, while being humble and relatable, still manages to get you seriously invested and excited for the action and story.

Goon is, in my opinion, a wholly underrated gem and one of the absolute best sports movies I've ever seen. Whether you're a hockey fanatic or prefer to stick to a nice, quiet game of solitaire, the endearing characters and engaging plot will hook you in and make you care. It's become a new favorite of mine and I'm sure you'll feel the same way, definitely check this one out.

REVIEW: Cannibal! The Musical

It would be something of an understatement to say that I'm a huge fan of the duo of Trey Parker and Matt Stone. South Park, Team America, Book of Mormon; I love basically everything they've done. Anyone who's seen their work (especially Book of Mormon) knows that they're incredibly skilled at crafting musicals, resulting in work that is as catchy as it is hilarious. When I learned that the two had made a musical in the vein of Oklahoma! about pioneer cannibals that debuted years before South Park was even on the air, I knew I had to check it out.

The film tells the true story of Alferd Packer (Trey Parker, credited as Juan Schwartz); in 1873, he led a group of miners on a journey to Breckenridge, Colorado in search of fresh deposits of gold. As the title implies, things go poorly for the group and they're forced to resort to desperate measures to stave off starvation. We hear this story from Packer's point of view; when the movie begins, it's 1883 and Alferd is on trial for murder and cannibalism. He recounts the tale of his journey to Polly Pry (Toddy Walters), a reporter hoping to cover the story behind his ill-fated expedition.

The sense of humor is precisely what you'd expect from a movie with this sort of tone coming from Parker, Stone, and friends. It's all very silly, juxtaposing the grim horror the the situation with an absurdly cheery mood. It's an adaptation of the true story of a group of people who got lost in the Rocky Mountains and resorted to eating each other in order to survive, all conveyed by way of upbeat musical numbers. That said, it's important to keep this movie's origins in mind when watching it. Originally made as a 3-minute trailer for a film class, Parker and Stone went on to collect just over $100,000 in order to expand the project into a full-length movie, all while studying at the University of Colorado. The budget really shows, so anyone expecting anything on the same scale as Team America or Book of Mormon should adjust their expectations accordingly. I personally find the shoestring budget really endearing; it's evident that budgetary restraints forced them to think outside the box in some respects, leading to some really great moments (like when the protagonists stumble upon a tribe of Indians who continually call attention to their many teepees).

Cannibal! The Musical is a really fun time, as well as a truly interesting look at the early works of the team behind one of the biggest shows on Broadway. It feels almost like a spiritual prequel to Book of Mormon; all of the Parker/Stone trappings are there (from extraterrestrial visitors hiding in the background to references to the teachings of the Church of Latter-Day Saints) and the gruesome, unfortunate reality of the situation is presented by upbeat goofballs who sing and dance to jaunty show tunes. If you're into these guys' work as much as I am and want to see what they were doing before they made it big, I highly recommend you give it a watch.

REVIEW: Bernie

Bernie is one of those films, for me, in the same realm as something like Super; I remember hearing a bit about it in the early 2010's, saw some posters at my local theaters, it came out, and I never heard from it again. Until, like Super, I saw it on Netflix and decided to give it a watch. Having finally seen it, I must say that Bernie is a really fascinating piece of work and features one of the best performances from Jack Black that I have ever seen.

The plot (based off of a true story) involves a fellow by the name of Bernie Tiede (Jack Black). Living in the small town of Carthage, Texas, Bernie is an assistant funeral director and all-around good guy who is widely beloved by all who know him. He volunteers at the local Methodist church, runs several community plays, and truly, genuinely cares about everyone he serves in his rather morbid line of work. After overseeing the funeral of a local millionaire, Bernie decides to spend some of his personal time checking in on the widow, Marjorie Nugent (Shirley MacLane), ensuring that she has everything she needs in this most difficult of times. As time goes on, the two become inseparable; the good-natured Bernie ends up playing the part of full-time manservant/travelling companion to the cantankerous, controlling Marjorie in a relationship reminiscent of Monty Burns and Waylon Smithers on The Simpsons. The arrangement begins to wear on Tiede, who is too charitable to voice his discomfort and stand up for himself before he finally reaches his breaking point. This is as much as I'm going to say for sake of spoilers (though one can probably deduce what happens with minimal effort), but the movie really takes a turn about halfway through.

The film is formatted almost like a documentary, constantly cutting away to the various townsfolk of Carthage who give their recollections on the events that transpired. Honestly, I can't tell if I liked or disliked this stylistic choice in the end; on one hand, the way that the townspeople view Bernie is a major facet of the story itself, helping to establish the proper tone and exposition for the audience. On the other hand, I feel as though it is almost used too much; Jack Black is so good in the role of Tiede that the various confessional bits with the citizens of Carthage tend to take up time that I really would have preferred to have seen spent on the titular character. Bernie Tiede is such an interesting guy in that, even after things inevitably go wrong, he's still genuinely likeable. He does some terrible things, but we never truly feel as though he's a monster as much as he is a genuinely good man who just had a bit of a break and needs help. None of his folksy, religious mannerisms are played off for a mean-spirited joke or punchline; everything about him is totally honest and earnest, so it's interesting to see a person who is so good end up doing something so objectively wrong.

Shirley MacLane plays the role of Marjorie Nugent, a millionaire widow who (unlike Bernie) is widely hated by pretty much everyone she's ever come across, family included. Much like Jack Black, the interesting thing about her character is the mystery as to how she ended up at this point. One of the townspeople mentions how he believes she was just born a nasty, old woman; MacLane puts on a great show, as I honestly couldn't picture this character as a young woman, getting married and having children. She's just a bitter, lonely person who happens to find Bernie, a happy, lonely person. They're like Yin and Yang; Bernie lives alone and does everything he can to help those around him so that he'll be liked. Marjorie lives alone and cares only for herself; as a result, she's unanimously despised. It's an interesting relationship that shows how negativity can cause positivity to weaken and decay over time. We also have Matthew McConaughey as Danny Buck Davidson, a District Attorney who begins as one of the talking head townsfolk before taking on a bigger role in the later half of the film. Like Black and MacLane, he does a fantastic job and helps provide an interesting view on the events that take place over the course of the film; as we explore the conflict that arises, we find that no one side is entirely right or wrong. You end up liking just about every character in the movie, but none of them are 100% correct. In this way, the film keeps the audience thoroughly invested in the outcome; just like real life, there's no black or white, just many differing shades of gray. The townsfolk of Carthage are also a delight, some of whom are actual citizens playing themselves. Everyone gives such a good performance, I wasn't sure at first if their bits were scripted or not; while the talking head interview segments take up a bit more of the runtime than I would have preferred, they undeniably lend the film a sense of realism and grit, a dash of Southern flavor that really helps immerse the audience in the story unfolding onscreen.

Bernie is a really interesting piece of work. Many times, the word "interesting" is just used as a polite way of saying "there's some good ideas here, but it doesn't work out". This is definitely not one of those times; this is a black comedy that is well shot, well written, well directed, and well acted, in addition to being genuinely thought-provoking. It's a true story that FEELS like a true story, and manages to keep you genuinely invested up until the very end.