Jonathan Poritsky ~ editor • filmmaker • blogger • photographer • writer

Review: Pineapple Express

Jonathan Poritsky — Thu, 07 Aug 2008 06:55:14 +0000

It had to happen sometime. As much as I had hoped to stave it off for as long as possible, the day had to come when I would leave a Judd Apatow production utterly dissatisfied. “Forgetting Sarah Marshall” nearly did me in, but further rumination on the film showed a real maturation happening in the cabal of dirty little boys that surround the Hollywood comedy magnate. Too bad that the progression toward a better kind of toilet humor didn’t make it’s way into the teams latest, and arguably most anticipated, “Pineapple Express”.

About a year after unexpected leading man Seth Rogen and friend/co-writer Evan Goldberg struck box office gold with the high school raunch-fest “Superbad”, they’re back at it again, but this time setting their sights a little higher than getting some poon before graduation. This time they have set out to make a stoner-action-comedy with a legit call to arms for legalization of marijuana hidden beneath the surface. Rather, put that message on the surface and bury the rest of the film underneath and you will start to see what this film looks like.

Don’t get me wrong, I laughed plenty during this film, and both Mr. Rogen, as Dale Denton, and fellow freak (of “Freaks and Geeks”, duh) James Franco, as Dale’s drug dealer Saul Silver, more than delivered on their roles as both punchlines and protagonists. They are funny and they are high off their asses throughout the film, yet even your mom will still find a way to let them into your hearts. Maybe it is Dale’s natural appeal as a regular guy, or Saul’s repeated love of his Bubby, but even when they seem like the lowest of lowlifes you are able to empathize with their most basic of needs, not the least of which is staying alive through the end of the film. Still, if this movie were a bowl I would have liked to be a bit more tightly packed.

The story is this: Dale is a civil servant who is on his way to serve a subpoena to the biggest drug dealer on the west coast (I know) when POP!, said baddie, Ted Jones, kills a family member of the Asian competition. Having witnessed this, the bloodshot Dale tosses heads screeching out of there but not before Jones sees him, setting things in motion for a violent comedy of mistaken identity. They decide that Denton must be working for the Asian competition so he becomes wanted man #1 for the white dealers and their lackey cop, played by Rosie Perez. Sadly, this is no “Johnny Stecchino” or even “Dumb and Dumber”; the mistaken identity plot is never fully realized, which is a shame because it would have been a nice hook upon which to hang the story.

When Mr. Rogen and Mr. Franco find the time throughout the film to just riff alongside one another prove to be the real high points as has become clear of the former’s writing style. His characters are at their best when they are just sitting around smoking pot and shooting the shit. As dumb as it sounds, he may be somewhere close to Quentin Tarantino in his ability to hold our focus while our characters do nothing whatsoever. In between those hilarious fits of dialogue, however, this is supposed to be something of an action film, and it never rises to that level. Does the blame here lay squarely on the scribe’s shoulders? Probably not.

The reason why I referred to “Pineapple Express” a few paragraphs ago is that this is the first time we have really seen a director with some significant street cred take on an Apatow project (I’m sorry, Greg Mottola, but a decade passed between “The Daytrippers” and “Superbad”). David Gordon Green decided to make his move from the fringe to the mainstream with this film, and I’m not totally sure why. I got very pissed off last summer when critics ignored the efforts of Mr. Mottola on “Superbad”, though now we can see how much life he breathed into that screenplay, mostly because we now see that Mr. Green didn’t bring any kind of originality to this film. I know that the studio system tends to tie the hands of ambitious directors, but if that is the case here then Sony/Columbia must have bound and gagged Mr. Green throughout the duration of production. Had he been directing a made-for-TV-movie, he would have done a stellar job. Our perspective is incredibly close and irresponsibly mundane. The film looked like a shot sheet written on top of a screenplay by a penny-pinching producer. This is why the action is consistently flat. When I saw the trailer, one of the reasons I wanted to see this film was the shot where Mr. Rogen flies, ninja-style, from a catwalk onto a bad dude’s head. There was so much promise for this move to be as cinematicaly gratifying as when Adam Sandler spins his crowbar in “Punch Drunk Love” or when the Batman turns around on his pod in this summer’s “The Dark Knight”, but it kinda just happens for no reason.

In the end, we are left with a few laughs and a fairly high body-count. It feels like the guys in Apatow’s hand just didn’t have much to do one weekend so they decided to make this film, which is a shame because I feel that everyone involved in this film is so much more talented than they let on this time out. Still, there is that usual wit and charm that have become a part of these boys’ films. They are certainly pushing the envelope with what kind of characters we will grow to like over the course of 2 hours, but let’s hope they push it more successfully next time.

Review: The Dark Knight

Jonathan Poritsky — Thu, 07 Aug 2008 06:50:14 +0000

A skyline, a seething film score, and an explosion in a window set the pace for the thrill ride that is “The Dark Knight”. As has become the norm for epic blockbusters, Christopher Nolan’s latest re-visioning of the Batman saga forgoes opening credits in an effort to throw us right into the madness of a deteriorating Gotham City. As I sat there in a darkened theater listening to the low growl of Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard’s score, my heart ached in anticipation for whatever would come next as I repositioned squarely to the edge of my seat. Good thing, because nothing prepared me for what I would go through for the next 160 minutes.

Drawing on 1970s crime films for an inspirational palette rather than the computer generated mind-warps that have become the norm ever since “Titanic” hit, Nolan’s team has crafted an experience in nerves that is deserving of the lunacy of the caped crusader’s current foe, the Joker. The villain’s devious plots will tie your stomach into knots making you feel as psychologically drained as the poor victims of his crimes, but the toll it will take on you is certainly well worth the fun you’ll have watching everything unfold. The action is, without question, the best you’ll find this summer. The film contains at least two incredibly tense moments of intercut destruction that will make you dig your fingernails deep into your armrest, not to mention the shoot-em-up chase midway through that will have you cheering from the back row.

Let’s get this out of the way: Heath Ledger’s performance is not ghoulish and it is certainly not any more impressive as a result of his untimely death. It is disheartening that we have lost such a talented young impresario, but it is not as hard to swallow as, say, watching Owen Wilson reveal suicidal wounds in “The Darjeeling Limited” shortly after slashing his wrists in real life. Make no mistake, Mr. Ledger’s final role is his best, among the best characterizations onscreen one can find. It is reminiscent of watching Sir Anthony Hopkins become Hannibal Lecter; Johnny Depp become Captian Jack Sparrow, or Marlon Brando become Vito Corleone (to name but a few). To discuss it here doesn’t do it much justice, so let’s move on.

Christian Bale reprises his role as the playboy/asshole version of Bruce Wayne he pioneered in “Batman Begins”, this time from a penthouse rather than the more traditional Wayne Manor. He does a fine job as the caped crusader, but it is hard to tell since a lot of the other characters get what feels like more face time. Besides Ledger’s joker, we get a moving performance by Aaron Eckhart as D.A. Harvey Dent, an understated and altogether redemptive one from Gary Oldman as good-cop Jim Gordon, and sage brevity from both Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman playing both the personal and professional better halves of Mr. Wayne in Alfred and Lucius Fox, respectively. Maggie Gyllenhaal, while not necessarily letting herself loose on the role of Rachel Dawes, provides a wonderful upgrade to Katie Holmes, the weakest part of the last outing. The point here: when Mr. Nolan juiced up his special effects team, he in no way skimped on memorable performances all around, a depressing rarity in the crash-bang films we’ve seen in recent years.

Speaking of special effects, one would think that by 2008, after all that we have seen we might have seen it all. One would be wrong. We have all seen car chases, hell we’ve probably seen hundreds on screen, but the one composed in the middle of the film by Mr. Nolan is nothing short of genius, reminiscent of the thrill of watching Popeye Doyle chase an elevated subway in “The French Connection”. The fix is the exact opposite here, the Joker forces a police motorcade to take an underpass turning them into “turkeys on Thanksgiving”, but its metering is spot on for raising our tension. We know that we are in for something special, so we brace ourselves. What follows is a lyrical masterwork of ups, downs, explosions, surprises and a cherry on top that has resulted in cheering at both screenings I have been to. Nolan doesn’t let you out of the woods quite yet though, for you are in for even more of those moments, where your head is left spinning by both the cruel intensity and inane joy that comes from watching everything explode in front of your eyes.

Maybe, just maybe, if the action were merely this good, the film would be great. Throw in the phenomenal and plentiful performances and you work towards something wonderful, but when you add in the solid storyline, replete with precise dialogue and impeccable timing, and real-crime drama stylings, the film becomes nothing short of brilliant. It is the best film of 2008 so far, and audiences are actually going to see it. Who could ask for anything more?

Review: Hancock

Jonathan Poritsky — Thu, 07 Aug 2008 06:43:44 +0000

The world of fiction is neither lacking disenfranchised anti-heroes nor tongue-in-cheek smashiness, yet “Hancock” stands in sharp relief against the backdrop of love affair with all-powerful beings. For one, it gracefully shies away from taking itself too seriously without losing it’s footing in reality, a feat that was muddled on opposite ends of the spectrum in recent blockbusters such as “Spiderman” and “The Incredible Hulk”. Even more impressive is the fact that international superstar Will Smith is kept at bay, fitting into the story nicely rather than having it built around him. No doubt, he steals the show delivering his trademark wit with a new-found bitter aftertaste, but the real star here is the steady hand of director Peter Berg.

Keeping himself quietly under the radar his contemporaries have covered in brightly colored blips, Mr. Berg trudges forth making some of the most important American films within the Hollywood system. His track record is short but glowing, from the too-dark-for-comfort comedy “Very Bad Things” back in 1998 to the more recent so-action-packed-everyone-missed-its-message “The Kingdom”, he has proven himself adept at bouncing between genres, blowing tons of shit up, and keeping his audience generally satisfied if not a bit rattled. “Hancock” is no exception, going against every archetype thrown at crowds over the past decade while keeping the action fresh and bloody.

Instead of the film being the requisite origin story of our scruffy, drunken and misbegotten Hancock, Mr. Berg, with writers Vy Vincent Ngo and Vince Gilligan, have chosen instead to make the deconstruction of a hero. Rather than a dorky teen getting zapped with magnificence coming to terms with his new-found powers, Hancock is instead a thirty-something bum who has honed his abilities enough to use them, just not to use them properly. Mr. Smith looks a bit different than when we last saw him in “I Am Legend”. Sure he’s got a haircut that’s a bit new and different, but the lengths he has gone to channel this character have changed his physicality in a way that is difficult to describe but wonderful to experience. I almost didn’t recognize him in some scenes, which is impressive since he is one of the most recognizable stars internationally. He still fights the forces of evil, but there is no mention of who he is or why he can fly, smash, throw, and retard flames. Instead we see his daily travails in the court of public opinion, a public who hates him and would rather he didn’t try to fight crime in such an un-thought out manner.

Enter the PR guy, Ray Embry, played with the usual comedic restraint by Jason Bateman. You can tell that Mr. Berg is a real Hollywood guy because of all the easy jokes tossing a publicist into a hero film might elicit. As a favor for saving his life, Ray offers to take Hancock on as a client to soften his image, but it is clear that he wants to do more than just help Hancock out. Ray is on a mission to make the world a better place through an ill-fated charitable marketing ploy he has come up with, and he sees the opportunity to make at least Los Angeles safer by improving the erstwhile hero. Just as he spun gold out of Mark Loring in the otherwise business-as-usual “Juno”, Mr. Bateman has found a way to convey an incredible character in Ray. He believes in Public Relations so much, that he really believes he can save the world by molding Hancock into an image of his design.

Rounding off the award-winning cast is Charlize Theron as Ray’s wife Mary. Sporting a rather plain (for a room full of gorgeous women) blond looks, she is a loving wife with some obvious skeletons in her closet. For the sanctity of plot we are left in the dark throughout the first half of the film about her past, though we are beaten over the head with reasons to look out for her, such as shots that linger on her for too long or glances we notice for no known reason. Mr. Berg really paints the whole femme fatale thing on her nicely; we are just waiting to see how she is going to screw everything up.

I don’t want to spoil the second half of this film for anyone, but I have to say that the climax, in which we witness the undoing of Hancock and his choice to put himself back together, is deeply moving. Hancock is an immortal with no reason to live. It is refreshing to see a well developed character make the core choices that define him under the guise of an action-packed laugher.

All overblown intellectualisms aside, it was great seeing shit blow’d up, jerky kids being knocked around, and Ms. Theron getting her skank-face on. Cheers to you, “Hancock”, for giving us what we’ve always wanted: unapologetic schlock with a heart of gold.

Review: Wall•E

Jonathan Poritsky — Thu, 07 Aug 2008 06:39:16 +0000

In the past I have drizzled praise all over Pixar, specifically the fantasy-realist films that Brad Bird has made with them. There are many reasons to heap laurels on the Disney-owned animation studio: its innovation in the field of computer animation before such a thing even existed, its creative use of all available tools at any given point in their history, its ability to captivate the minds and pocket books of children and adults alike. “Wall•E”, however, is something different, something more than any of us thought these imagineers were capable of.

One of an army of similar robots built to clean up the mess that humans have left behind after leaving earth, Wall•E has outlasted every single one of his compatriots on the planet. He meanders through a city that has become a landfill as the sole survivor of seven hundred years of neglect, often passing identical robots which have since shorted or died. His only friend is a cockroach who follows him around while he does the dirty work. This lonely existence goes on for an extremely long chuck of this “childrens” film. It is harrowing, but Wall•E seems to have developed a personality over time, enough to keep us entertained as he makes the best of his frightening situation, collecting trinkets and watching videotapes on an iPod.

His world is rocked, literally, when a ship lands with a newer, shinier robot aboard, Eva. Okay, you may notice I have been referring to Wall•E with masculine pronouns, and about about to slap some feminine ones onto Eva. I wouldn’t do this if the filmmakers didn’t force my hand on this one. My only complaint with the film is that, because it is Disney, we can’t have robots that exist outside of gender, which is stupid because technically they are just write and metal and software. Heaven forbid we even think that they are two boys or two girls rubbing motherboards. I’ll look the other way on this one since after all, they did make a portentous view of the future with long fits of silence and zero furry creature while still finding a way to sell it to kids.

Where was I?

Oh yeah. Eva comes to Earth and keeps blowing stuff up until she decides to befriend Wall•E. Silly dolt that he is, our hero falls head over heels for the tough girl on the playground, but I guess he could never get intimate with cockroach, so Eva would have to do. As a gift, he gives her a plant, which shuts her down completely until the day a ship comes for her. Wall•E stows away on board and is taken to the spaceship that houses the remaining humans in the universe. We learn that “Buy ‘N’ Save”, a conglomerate that managed to get its CEO elected President of the world, was offering up vacations to space for a few years while Wall•E robots would clean up their homes. Once most of them were up there, global warming took effect, wiped out humanity, 700 years passed, and now the only remaining humans in the universe are fat, sit in chairs, suck meals out of cups, and communicate with each other only through video screens on floating chairs. Oddly enough, it sounds pretty plausible.

Eva, it turns out, is a reconnaissance bot that the mothership has been sending out ever since the humans left in search of sustainable life on Earth via photosynthesis. The plant Wall•E gives her represents the ability to return home for the chubby captain of the ship, but the computers want to fight back and won’t let people go home. Here is where the film will start to freak you out if you think about it too long. Computers are just computers right? They do what we tell them? Well, not anymore, not in this movie at least. Wall•E’s personality turns out to be contagious as he and Eva go against everything they have been programmed to do in hopes of saving the plant that represents a new beginning for…humans. They are motivated by a need to help others, for something they cannot even begin to understand. Or do they?

The philosophical questions abound, but don’t worry, the film’s message may be heavy-handed but its execution is just as fun as any other offering from the Mouse House’s 3D shingle. I am reminded of Terry Gilliam’s “Time Bandits”, a romp that I loved as a child about a boy who travels through time stealing treasure with a band of dwarves. After watching it as an adult, I see that it preaches the importance of imagination over technological distractions, as well as explorative of many literary viewpoints of good and evil. In other words, I hope that the rugrats who are watching “Wall•E” today will soon be able to see the real value in it, which goes far beyond a cute robot hitting himself in the face with a paddle-ball. Of course, that moment is part of this masterpiece’s charm too.

Internet Fame And Immortality

Jonathan Poritsky — Wed, 30 Jul 2008 07:19:15 +0000

Ahhh, internet fame has come my way at last. I made it into this week’s Gizmodo Photoshop Contest Hall of Champions. I get nothing for my efforts, but it was fun anyway. Though I didn’t snag one of the top three titles, I did manage to make it into the post’s main graphic TWICE! Check it out here, and you can see my “winning” photos here and here in glorious Gizmodo immortality, or click the read link to see all the crap I made instead of doing useful things.

[Show as slideshow]

iPhone Apps Can Rock

Jonathan Poritsky — Tue, 22 Jul 2008 19:13:09 +0000

This is a test of the wordpress iPhone app. Now I can blog from the subway!

Shelfari

Jonathan Poritsky — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 05:04:30 +0000

Shelfari: Book reviews on your book blog

Trying New Things

Jonathan Poritsky — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 09:47:43 +0000

Maybe you never even scroll all the way down there, but if you go to the bottom of my page starting today you’ll notice a little ad mixed in with some other new toys in my footer. Some of the ads are really freakin’ ugly, but hopefully most of them aren’t so bad.

Check ‘em out if you like or better yet click on that crap so I can see the pennies roll in. More importantly, if you’re offended that I’ve decided to try this out, please let me know in the comments. Likewise if you just love ads.

Love, Poritsky

Review: Viva La Vida by Coldplay

Jonathan Poritsky — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 07:11:42 +0000

While I don’t usually veer off from reviewing films or books, I figured this new album would be worth my two pence since, after all, Coldplay makes some reliably cinematic music.

I remember 2000’s “Parachutes” album from the soon-to-be pop stars Coldplay. In one fell swoop those Brits invaded our shores and frontman Chris Martin stole many of our girlfriends with his ruggedized nerdy white boy swagger. Damn them, I said as a high school sophomore; they’re music is too girly. I’ll just sit over here and jam out to Lit or Blink 182 because I’m so cool. As quickly as the group became chic it became even more-so to hate on them.

But the truth is they’re amazing, that album in particular.

Back then, what they were doing with instrumentation and beats wasn’t really seen in songs that tweeners and up might generally rock out to. If not original, it was certainly fresh. And so they came kicking back with 2002’s prolific “A Rush of Blood to the Head”. They gave the world not only another take on that sound they teased us with on the previous album, they perfected it into something astounding. They set the bar extremely for what pop could become, and they have been consistently imitated ever since.

The latest imitator of their best sounds: Coldplay.

“X&Y” really was a xerox of “A Rush…”, or maybe even a sequel. Granted, I have spent plenty of time rocking out to it over the years (by rocking out, of course I mean I pretend I’m having an indie-film realization moment whilst ascending the subway stairwell), but I don’t even think the boys can deny the similarities, track for track, to their best album. Every band is allowed to do that after awhile: they can’t all be the Beatles, right? “Viva La Vida”, however, gives us just more of the same again, which isn’t so bad because that same is pretty good.

Perhaps as a recognition of the countless media makers who invoke their music when heavy-handedness is needed, the first track is titled “Life in Technicolor” and boy is it climactic. It may be my favorite song on the disc, perhaps because Mr. Martin has stayed well enough away from drizzling his vocals all over it. It’s full of peaks and valleys that really gear you up for what could be a really experiential album, but you are soon let down once track two kicks in. While “X&Y” had an obvious structure albeit culled from their usual bag of tricks, this meanders around songs thrown together.

Look, I could go down the list of which tracks sound like older songs and why, but screw that. Let me tell what I did like. Maybe it’s just my percussive blood talking but my favorite track has to be “Lost!” which starts off in a fairly tribal manner, kinda Enya meets the organ from “Fix You”. I think hands down the most explorative aspect to this album is Will Champion’s drum work. It really is a welcome change and this track really shows some new riffs on a relatively staid melody.

Again, “Lovers in Japan/Reign of Love” offers up some really cool beats, and overall is probably the most original track on the album. That loud piano banging that once shook our bones out of the ordinary when they first started is back and everyone really steps up to make something special happen here. I promise it’ll be a frequent iPod selection for me.

The title track again offers up some more interesting rhythms, but that’s about it. While I love the drums, it seems the rest of the band is sticking too closely to the percussion on their respective instruments, making the song get quite boring after about ten seconds. Don’t worry, folks, it won’t stop this song from making a big summer splash. It’s easy to tap along to and mimic Mr. Martin’s crooning in the shower.

Do I hate this album? Nah. Do they need to reinvent themselves? Hell yes. Then again, we probably wouldn’t buy their albums if they didn’t sound like Coldplay. With all the knockoffs available to your ears, you still can’t beat the original.

NYC in Clouds

Jonathan Poritsky — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 00:06:55 +0000

NYC in Clouds
Originally uploaded by poritsky

I’m still taking pictures in case anyone out there was wondering. My awesome office window view provided another great cityscape, this time with an iPhone. I opted, as I often do, to leave the camera gear at home today and lug the laptop in so I could catch up on website business. The clouds gathered over the city and I pulled the ol’ iPhone out to grab it. It still takes pretty awesome pics eve though it gets abused in my pockets. I’ll keep the pics flowing for you all to ogle. Check out my photo gallery while you’re at it. Enjoy.