Jumping the shark has jumped the shark

Someone named Bill "The Sports Guy" Simmons has a blog on ESPN's website.

I don't know who this guy is. I've never visited his blog before today. He could be brilliant. He could be a jackass.

But I love this comment (in a post about how Saturday Night Live has fallen apart):

Just for the record, I hate playing the "jumped the shark" card, the most overplayed angle on the web -- everyone is in a big race to say that something or someone isn't good anymore, whether it's a TV show, movie, musician, writer, web site or whatever -- and that mentality ties into how hostile the Internet has become in general. Everything sucks, everyone sucks, everyone's mailing it in, and so on. You just can't win.

So I thought I would share.

Breaking news: Reality TV isn't real

This article, about another article that exposes various ways producers fake up their reality shows, is pretty interesting.

I don't really find it disturbing that reality shows are manipulated for entertainment value, it seems as obvious as professional wrestling being fixed. The thing is is that the people on these shows are being judged and ridiculed/celebrated by everyone watching at home, just like any other characters on TV.

Except they aren't characters, they're real people.

And, true, a lot of them go on these shows just to be on TV and to become celebrities or semi-celebrities. I've seen them at parties. I judge them. They're gross.

But that's not everyone. And I think producers owe it to their audiences and their "cast members" to come clean about just how manipulated these shows are.

As sleazy as some of these "characters" on reality TV shows may seem, just think of the people behind the scenes, egging them on and putting them on television in the first place.

Who's sleazier?

And then there's...

Doom.

Which is what's in store for anyone who sees this movie.

I don't ask my videogame adaptations to have compelling characters or intricate plots but if a major movie comes from a major studio it owes the audience something more than they might expect from a quickie Sci Fi channel original. Yet Doom delivers less.

And it's from Universal, which has already delivered a couple decent B-movies this year: George A. Romero's Land of the Dead—rent it!—and, I'm making a safe assumption here, Joss Whedon's Serenity (which yes I know I should've seen instead of this).

In Doom, the monsters are generic, the characters are generic, the plot is generic, the action scenes are generic, the gore is generic, the attempt at a "twist" is generic (hint: The Rock plays an overzealous military officer). Get the picture?

I actually felt like The Rock was slumming it by appearing in the movie. Yes, the movie is beneath The Rock. This is Jean Claude Van Damme territory.

Just rent Alien vs. Predator instead.

Chick Flicks, Part 2

Considerably better than Domino or Elizabethtown, but still with some problems of its own, is North Country.

I'm glad I'm not a marketing person at Warner Bros. because I'm not sure how anyone could convince large numbers of people to see a film about a 1989 landmark sexual harassment case involving female mine workers in Minnesota. And I'm not really going to try to sell you on it here. The movie isn't successful or smart enough to overcome its why-this-why-now hurdles, in fact it sabotages itself dramatically in a few bizarre ways, but it's very nearly redeemed by a stellar cast who almost all deliver very solid work.

This is the kind of movie that immediately stirs up Oscar talk and once again Charlize Theron is remarkable in her commitment to a role, even if once again the movie lets her down. Taking Theron's performance simply for what it is, a credible and smart portrayal of an ordinary woman in extraordinary circumstances, she provides the movie's most compelling reason to be seen. Unlike her work in Monster, it's not one of those performances that is bigger (although it certainly is better) than the movie itself. I'm glad to see Theron, a perpetually underrated actress even post-Oscar, working at this level.

The fine supporting cast includes Frances McDormand (doing a minor variation on her Fargo accent and investing a stock character with an incredible amount of charm and credibility), Woody Harrelson, Sissy Spacek, Sean Bean and Richard Jenkins, who plays Theron's father and gives a sort of breakthrough dramatic performance that stands with his work in Six Feet Under and Flirting with Disaster as one of his best. It's really too bad he's not in more of the film. (It's also disappointing to see Jeremy Renner, so complex and creepy as the notorious serial killer in Dahmer, in the thinly-drawn role of primary sexual harasser.)

It's admirable that director Niki Caro chose to follow up her international breakthrough Whale Rider with this for her first Hollywood project but I wish she would find material better suited to her strong visual sense. Twice now she's delivered films that don't honestly earn their "you-go-girl!" audience cues.

Dramatically this movie cheats all over the place. McDormand and Jenkins are both so good that I didn't mind the goofy audience-manipulating nature of their characters, at least not so much. But eventually the movie sidetracks itself from its central issue and loses itself in a third-act flashback revelation seemingly designed to provide a stronger dramatic punch to the courtroom scenes. Yet it's such an unnecessary twist that all of a sudden the movie turns into an episode from The Practice's unfortunate later seasons. It's an awkward reveal and the courtroom scenes only grow more ridiculous after that.

Up to that point North Country comes across as noble but dull. Well-acted but shrug inducing. The subject matter never feels urgent, and although it's remarkable (and frightening) that all of this happened just a little over 15 years ago the filmmakers aren't able to find a way to make it matter for two hours on screen.

There's a rather unexpected antidote to all these underwhelming female-driven movies. Even with a strong pedigree, I wasn't expecting to enjoy In Her Shoes as much as I ultimately did.

The movie is probably the most chick flick-y of all these films (all the major characters are women and the primary issues are family and relationships) but it's the sort of smart, enjoyable entertainment for adults that makes such semi-condescending terms seem irrelevant. You don't need a vagina to like the movie, you just need a brain.

There is actually a man at the center of this, director Curtis Hanson, who continues his impressive career transformation from the go-to guy for thrillers like Bad Influence and The Hand That Rocks the Cradle to the helmer of diverse prestige projects L.A. Confidential, Wonder Boys and 8 Mile. Clearly Hanson is no longer interested in repeating himself. All his recent movies have in common is good acting, polished filmmaking and a commitment to story. I wouldn't place In Her Shoes at the same high level as his previous three films but it's a welcome addition to his body of work.

The movie may not have been as good without Hanson behind the camera but three very different, very interesting actresses do their part in front of the camera. The film's marketing tried, in part, to sell the movie on Cameron Diaz in a bathing suit and skimpy clothes but there's a lot more to her performance than that. I don't think anyone would claim Diaz is one of the best actresses of her generation but compare her career to many of her peers and you'll see a rare commitment to interesting projects (The Sweetest Thing excepted). Contrary to her ditzy reputation Diaz is clearly interested in doing good work, and she delivers here.

But Diaz's character is purposefully a little shallow and although she holds up her end it's not really her movie. Toni Collette has the great, juicy showcase role and makes the most of it. She's often thought of as an ace supporting, or character, actress but when Collette takes the lead (as in Muriel's Wedding, Clockwatchers or Japanese Story) the results are always fascinating. In a rather unspectacular year for lead actresses, Collette delivers a truly wonderful performance.

Yet even Collette is outdone by veteran Shirley MacLaine, who at age 70 adds another great role to her cinematic legacy. It takes awhile for her character to arrive in the story but once she does the film really takes off (this is a movie that requires, and rewards, audience patience). Although her character is a grandmother and lives in a retirement community, and although there's some of the best old folks humor since The Golden Girls, the most interesting thing about MacLaine's performance is the way that it's not defined by age. This isn't a typical senior citizen role, or even typical MacLaine (the character couldn't be further from her feistier turns in Steel Magnolias, Postcards from the Edge and Terms of Endearment). It's a potent reminder of both MacLaine's talents and the lack of compelling older characters in Hollywood films.

Considering the fine work of the actresses and the director it's difficult to say how much credit should go to Susannah Grant's script (adapted from a book that I've heard is pretty straight forward chick-lit) but following Erin Brockovich with this is either impressive work or very good luck (she'll make her directorial debut next year on a project starring Jennifer Garner and Timothy Olyphant).

There are many other good things about In Her Shoes (including supporting performances from Mark Feuerstein, Ken Howard, Brooke Smith, Francine Beers and Richard Burgi), and I'd recommend it to anyone. Chick or not.

Chick Flicks, Part 1

I've seen four movies in recent weeks that, for one reason or another, fit the bill. I'm tackling them in two parts. The bad ones are up first...

Starting with Domino, which is the least chick flick-y and also the worst. It flopped on release last weekend, no doubt because there's no stars and not much of an interesting hook.

The movie is based on the real life of Domino Harvey, daughter of Manchurian Candidate actor Laurence Harvey, who was, at various points in her life, a model and a bounty hunter. That's literally everything you learn about the real Domino from the movie, which uses her life as a jumping off point for an anything goes, contemporary "action" flick that attempts to elevate ADD filmmaking to an art-form (or at least a new cinematic language). It fails.

There's barely a shot in the film that lasts for more than a few seconds and everything is slowed down, sped up, replayed from various angles or otherwise manipulated... to zero effect. It's not cool, it's just silly. Anything that might have been cool is undercut by the fact that it's difficult to tell what the hell is happening most of the time. Yes, folks, this is the work of Tony Scott, the man behind Top Gun, Days of Thunder, The Last Boy Scout, etc. etc. He's finally made a film that would make even Michael Bay question the need for all the visual gimmicks.

Initially the script, by Donnie Darko's Richard Kelly, threatens to be amusing. Its pop-culture-sampling sensibility (the Jerry Springer show is recreated and Beverly Hills 90210 stars Brian Austin Green and Ian Ziering play themselves in small roles) suggests potential cult appeal, but it soon becomes so rambling, incoherent and, worst of all, mawkish that the feeble structure collapses entirely.

All of this leaves the actors totally stranded. That's a shame since Keira Knightley seems more than up to the task of playing an ass-kicking babe, if only she had something interesting to do. A few supporting actors show some spark, especially Christopher Walken and Mo'Nique (seriously, Mo'Nique), but by the time the main characters have an unexpected acid trip the already senseless movie bottoms out and it's still a long way from over.

Cameron Crowe's Elizabethtown unfortunately isn't that much better. I say this as a Cameron Crowe fan. I've liked all his movies. I even liked Vanilla Sky. But Elizabethtown just doesn't work.

There were quite a few moments when I couldn't even believe Crowe was responsible for what I was watching—usually during scenes where Kirsten Dunst babbles nonsensically about things like men seeing things in squares and women seeing things in circles or the mysteries of the phrase "that's what they say." She also says so-cute-you-want-to-strangle-her things like "I'm impossible to remember but hard to forget" and she does it all with a distracting and unnecessary in-and-out Southern accent.

Dunst may be annoying (this is a long way from her best grown-up screen work in Bring It On and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind) but Orlando Bloom is a crushing bore in the central role. As scripted, his character, who loses his cushy job at a major shoe company and almost immediately finds out his father has died, comes off as Jerry Maguire Lite, and Bloom can't find a way to make the character worth watching.

There are two things going on at once in Elizabethtown but the promising one comes off like a distraction: Bloom's character travels to his father's hometown, where his dad was visiting at the time of his death. There he reconnects with his dad's (stereo)typically eccentric Southern family and feels miserable he didn't know his father better.

The storyline gets an extra boost from supporting actors (Paul Schneider, Judy Greer, Loudon Wainwright, Paula Deen) who deserved more screen time, and a little more consideration from Crowe. Where's the writer who made every supporting character count in Jerry Maguire? While we're on the topic, Susan Sarandon and Alec Baldwin are also in the movie, but they have roles they could play in their sleep and it shows. They're easy to watch but there's no spark, no surprise. (In all fairness Crowe originally wanted to cast Jane Fonda in Sarandon's role of Bloom's mother, which demonstrates that he still has some good instincts.)

Unfortunately, most of the movie is dedicated to the romance between Bloom and Dunst, which never takes off. In one of the film's most bizarre miscalculations their relationship blossoms over a very long cell phone conversation of which we only hear only random strands of chatter (most of it nonsensical, as mentioned above). Eventually they're drowned out altogether by a Ryan Adams song on the soundtrack (even Crowe's usually spot-on sense of music is off: there's simply too much and the selections never convey any meaning, it's the first Crowe movie I wouldn't even bother buying a soundtrack for).

Ok, so they talk for a long time, but what are they connecting over? Mutually lame philosophical notions I guess.

The movie's dull, over long and unspectacular cross-country road-trip finish speaks for itself.

All of this is really too bad since it's obvious Crowe is a filmmaker who actually cares about creating interesting characters and telling good (if sentimental) stories. Elizabethtown is supposed to be a feel-good crowd pleaser. But I suspect even many indiscriminating viewers will walk away bored.

Moviegoers get it right

Oops, unplanned hiatus.

Did watching the new fall TV shows make me hit a wall? Possibly, but more on that in a future post...

First, some other things that happened in my absence.

There was some sweet justice at the box office two weekends ago. A History of Violence, the fantastic new film from David Cronenberg, placed fourth in its first week of wide release with an $8.1 million gross over three days.

That was good enough to top the first week of Into the Blue by over $1 million. This despite the fact that Into the Blue was playing on over twice as many screens. As the week continued Violence did even better, rising to second place overall.

It's a small victory, but one worth celebrating anyway.

Mostly because Into the Blue sucks, a lot. It's a stale summer season castoff with a notably shocking lack of thrills, narrative drive or anything resembling a plot. It's hard to explain just how mind-numbing watching a film starring Jessica Alba, Paul Walker and Scott Caan in bathing suits can be... or maybe that explains it all. Still, you'd think a movie like this would at least try to be fun or possibly even be bad enough to qualify as a campy guilty pleasure. Instead it's just dull. And it's a box office flop. So hooray.

You don't have to take my word on the film's utter crappiness, check out what Helen and Justin (who is partly to blame for me seeing it) had to say.

Now A History of Violence does not suck, at all. The highly-praised latest film from Canadian mad genius Cronenberg is partly about a strong, silent husband and father of two who runs a small town diner and suddenly finds himself in the news after a couple criminals wander into his place one night. But it's really more about violence, family, sex, masculinity and American myths, cinematic and otherwise. I haven't had a more satisfying experience at the movies all year.

There have been times when I've found Cronenberg's work more intellectually engaging than entertaining (the kinky sex/car wreck mash-up Crash still leaves me cold), but with History of Violence I think he strikes a perfect balance. Halfway through this movie I was literally on the edge of my seat, appreciating what I was seeing as much as I was enjoying it. Credit for that belongs not only with the filmmaker (who will hopefully score his first ever Best Director Oscar nomination for his work here) but also the exceptional cast and Cronenberg's perfectly chosen team of longtime collaborators (including DP Peter Suschitzky, editor Ronald Sanders and composer Howard Shore — all them surefire Oscar contenders as well).

A little more on the cast: Viggo Mortensen plays the lead role and it's possibly his best screen work yet (I haven't seen all of his films, so I can't say for sure). It's one of those freaky pairings of performer and role that is so harmonious it feels like Mortensen was born for the part. Other actors could've done it but I'm not sure anyone could have done it so well (besides maybe Steve McQueen, and he's dead).

The supporting cast is small but powerful. Maria Bello continues to solidify her reputation as one of the most unexpectedly valuable actresses working today (especially in indie films). She's basically the wife, but it's to everyone's credit that her role comes across like so much more. Ashton Holmes plays the son. He's pretty much unknown (his biggest credit is a soap opera) but he makes a major impression here. And the great Ed Harris can justifiably be called "the great Ed Harris" because of performances like this. William Hurt shows up late in the film, and there's a bit too much ham in his performance but it doesn't detract (and in a way it's fitting: one of the film's best qualities is its wickedly off-kilter sense of humor, this is by no means a dour or mournful exploration of violence).

All of that said, A History of Violence is definitely not a film for all audiences. (Just ask my friend Ben.) There is graphic violence (necessary to the story and themes), there is some unconventional sex (ditto) and above all there is the otherworldly Cronenberg touch. Like David Lynch or Lars von Trier, he's an uncommonly unique filmmaker whose work is almost always divisive. There has been talk of this film being "mainstream" Cronenberg, and it probably is his most audience-friendly movie since The Fly, but this is still primarily art house territory. That only makes its box office victory over Into the Blue even more satisfying.