Jason Bourne is back in spectacular style

Originally published inLGBT Weekly

Matt Damon in Jason Bourne

Aside from making a great deal of money, there was no reason to make another Jason Bourne movie. After three of them – The Bourne Identity, Supremacy, and Ultimatum – the amnesiac assassin that the CIA tried to get rid of has regained his memories and gotten revenge. Plenty of people were killed, cars were destroyed, Matt Damon had earned cred for his gritty physicality and director Paul Greengrass went from British indies to the Hollywood A-list. There was an attempt at a reboot with Jeremy Renner that was a big meh, and then Damon and Greengrass announced they’d do another movie. Damon has claimed it was because they came up with a great story. This is hard to believe. The story is half-baked at best. But by golly the action is spectacular.

The film opens with Bourne living off the grid, making a living bare-knuckle fighting suckers in what appears to be a refugee camp in Greece. He’s not happy, looks terrible, but, hey, he’s free from being a pawn for the cynics running CIA black ops. Cut to Iceland where Nicky Parsons (Julia Stiles), a former CIA agent who had helped Bourne in the previous films, enters a secret hacker safe house and manages to break into the CIA’s servers in about 22 seconds. Immediately and absurdly, everyone in the CIA knows this is happening, exactly who is doing it and the specific address where it’s being done – and then any semblance of reality vanishes when the CIA’s young cyber espionage chief Heather Lee (Alicia Vikander) barks to her staff in Langley, Virginia, to turn off the power to the building in Iceland. And they do. Not since Sandra Bullock’s The Net have I seen a movie with so many technologically based plot points that were so ridiculous.

In no time (literally), the CIA manages to track Nicky – a former CIA agent and expert hacker who likely would have some knowledge how to avoid detection – to Athens where she’s meeting Bourne.

Apparently, she feels that Bourne needs to know what she found out during the hack, that his father was somehow involved in him becoming a brain-washed, cold-blooded killer. The CIA sends a team of assassins to capture or kill their rogue agents. The chase through Athens, which is embroiled in extreme rioting, is where we get what we want from Bourne and Greengrass: adrenalin-pumping action choreographed and shot with less beauty than in Mad Max: Fury Road but with just as much skill and as many thrills.

Without the outrageously great action sequences, which are thankfully many, the movie would be a ho-hum B-movie spy caper. Since there is so little characterization of Bourne beyond him being violent and pissed, we have very little reason to care about what his father might have done. Jason Bourne is a taciturn cypher, and this makes him somewhat of a waste for Damon’s skills. CIA Director Robert Dewey (Tommy Lee Jones, phoning it in from another planet) is a bad guy, but we don’t know why. The searing Vincent Cassel is Dewey’s personal assassin and has some sort of reason to hate Bourne but it’s vague and such motivation seems unnecessary for a guy who will kill anyone for any reason. Vikander is one of the most exciting actresses working but her character, however intriguing, is a shadow of a sketch. Why she decides, on a whim, to go rogue and help Bourne happens without expectation. I guess we’re supposed to think, “Oh, it’s Jason Bourne. Of course the pretty lady will help him.”

Jason Bourne is fun and exciting, but it’s both unnecessary and dopey, which none of the previous Bourne films were.

Jason Bourne

Directed by Paul Greengrass

Written by Paul Greengrass and Christopher Rouse

Starring Matt Damon, Alicia Vikander and Tommy Lee Jones

Rated PG-13

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Ghostbusters

Originally published inLGBT Weekly

Leslie Jones, Melissa McCarthy, Kate McKinnon and Kristen Wiig in Ghostbusters

also playing

In one of the worst examples of modern panicky emasculation, small-minded men who spend their lives complaining on the Internet had a collective meltdown when it was announced that Ghostbusters would be remade with women playing the roles originated in 1984 by Bill Murray, Dan Aykroyd, Harold Ramis and Ernie Hudson. For some reason, they claimed that this new film – to star Melissa McCarthy, Kristen Wiig, Kate McKinnon and Leslie Jones and directed by Paul Feig – would somehow destroy their childhood memories and usher in some sort of feminist autocracy that would bring about mass castration and, eventually, the End Times. I had planned on buying tickets simply to irritate the cellar-dwelling Twitter trolls. And while the movie is not as great an experience as the original, it’s delightful, silly summer entertainment.

Wiig plays Erin Gilbert, who is about to earn tenure in the Department of Physics at Columbia University. When it’s discovered that she co-wrote a book on the paranormal with her old friend Abby Yates (McCarthy) but also actually believes in ghosts, she’s fired. She reluctantly joins Abby, her brilliant engineer Jillian Holtzmann (McKinnon), and eventually a streetwise New York subway worker named Patty Tolan (Leslie Jones) to form the Ghostbusters and investigate the rising spectral activity in New York.

The plotting isn’t as interesting as the original, which involved spectacular supporting performances by Sigourney Weaver and Rick Moranis, and neither Wiig nor McCarthy shine in family friendly fare as much they do in their R-rated hits like Bridesmaids, Skeleton Twins and Spy. But McKinnon’s edgy, queer, utterly bizarre Holtzmann steals almost every one of her scenes, and Jones’s Patty, who is grounded, smart and infectiously cheerful, is the most fully realized character she’s ever played. Both the action and effects are well handled, even if many of the ghosts and scares are homages to the original film. What is different is that the new Ghostbusters is an action comedy about capable, tough women who are focused on their friendships and saving the day – not on men saving, loving or bettering them. A feminist summer blockbuster? More please.

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Hang on for the ride in this insanely surreal comedy-drama

Paul Dano and Daniel Radcliffe in Swiss Army Man

As we were walking into Swiss Army Man, I discovered that my friend Adam, who I’d brought to the movie, didn’t know anything about what we were about to see. I giggled, because I knew that the movie was about a guy stranded on a deserted island who befriends a farting corpse. Adam was going to be very surprised. Ten minutes into the film, he whispered, “What the hell? This is like Weekend at Bernie’s.” To which I responded, “Crossed with Castaway!” But the film is a lot more than being the bastard child of a low-rent ‘80s comedy about two men who cart around the dead body of their boss claiming he’s alive and a high-brow Tom Hanks drama about survival and the meaning of life. Yes, it’s as bizarre and puerile as Bernie’s and aspires to Castaway’s depth; Swiss Army Man uses the insanity of its premise to create a powerfully symbolic fever dream about the power of friendship to heal the wounds of a lifetime of loneliness.

 

The film opens with a disheveled, dejected Hank, played by a brilliantly sensitive Paul Dano, alone on a small island in the middle of the ocean, where he is setting up a ramshackle noose with which to hang himself. As he is getting the courage to commit suicide, he sees a man wash ashore. He almost kills himself rushing to the figure, who turns out to be both dead and played by Daniel Radcliffe (continuously ballsy in his post-Harry Potter choices). Depressed once again, Hank almost goes through with the hanging before he notices something odd about the corpse: it’s farting, and it’s farting a great deal. In fact, its farts are so powerful that they can propel the body like a jet ski. The opening credits roll as Hank rides the corpse across the waves and swells, screaming in joy. (This is when I looked over at Adam and saw his jaw drop.)

Hank wakes up on the shore of what looks like the mainland. He has become emotionally attached to his corpse, so he drags it behind him as he wanders through the garbage-strewn forest, searching for water and food and civilization – and the object of Hank’s affection, played mostly in flashback by Mary Elizabeth Winstead. One morning, desperately thirsty, he discovers that in addition to being a fart engine, the corpse is also a water pump – push his stomach and seemingly clean water spouts from his mouth. And then the corpse wakes up. Because at this point, why not? He can’t really move and can only barely talk and remembers nothing of being alive, but he takes the name Manny and joins Hank on his mission. As Hank teaches him about manners (like not farting in front of people) and women (which leads to Manny’s nearly magical erections), they become epically close friends.

Writer-directors Dan Kwan and Daniel Scheinert were best known prior for their insane, ground-breaking, and now iconic video for Turn Down the What, which has been seen over 500 million times on YouTube. Swiss Army Man is their first narrative feature, and it takes their bonkers and quite original aesthetic and wraps it around a somewhat traditional buddy comedy. In some ways, the script, which is often as sweet as it is ribald, goes to expected places, and then it veers into places where I was shocked to arrive. I was moved but I was also disappointed when the Daniels’ (as they’re known) didn’t fully embrace the queerness that they worked hard to set up. I think most viewers who sat through the whole film will cheer the ending, but I was left a little dejected by the Daniels’ embrace of traditional heterosexism in a film as deliriously iconoclastic as Swiss Army Man.

Swiss Army Man

Written and Directed by Dan Kwan and Daniel Scheinert

Starring Paul Dano, Daniel Radcliffe and Mary Elizabeth Winstead

Rated R

Originally published in LGBT Weekly

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‘Tickled’ is no laughing matter

Originally published inLGBT Weekly

David Starr and David Farrier in Tickled

Whether you admit it or not, whether you did it deliberately, you’ve watched some odd sexual stuff on the Internet. Because as the song goes, “The Internet is for porn.” Some fetish videos aren’t surprising, whether it’s feet or leather or women’s panties. But some are, or at least they’re surprising to most people. When David Farrier, a journalist in New Zealand, saw a video of “competitive tickling,” in which strapping young men were held or strapped down and mercilessly tickled by other strapping young men, he thought, well, that’s a story! It was rather funny and odd and perfect for his brand of journalism, which focused on quirky pop culture. But when he sent inquiries to the company, known as Jane O’Brien Media, he received not a polite refusal, but a homophobic screed personally attacking Farrier, who is gay, and threatening lawsuits if he continues with any sort of story. Being the good journalist he is, Farrier was now more interested and more determined, because clearly these tickling videos weren’t just a wacky lark but the project of a weird and somewhat disturbed individual or set of individuals. So, Farrier and his friend Dylan Reeve decided to make a documentary.

The tagline for the film is “It’s not what you think.” This is pretty accurate, because when you hear that the film is about online tickling videos, you might raise an eyebrow and giggle, but that whimsy lasts all of five minutes in the film. Because the threats from Jane O’Brien Media are so creepy, and the story that follows – which include stories of extreme harassment, destroyed lives, criminal fraud, psychopathologies and a creepy-as-hell villain – isn’t funny except in the few moments when people are being tickled and actually seem to enjoy it. Other times, they’re not enjoying it at all, and you realize the tickle videos are actually videos of sadomasochism and torture.

Tickled is structured as a narrative of Farrier and Reeve’s investigation into the videos, Jane O’Brien, the videos’ down-on-their luck actors, the seedy world of fetish videos and the unhinged person who is actually Jane O’Brien. Reminiscent of Nick Broom’s gonzo documentaries Kurt and Courtney and Biggie and Tupac,Tickled feels like it’s just the result of what happened when Farrier and Reeve found a weird topic and bought some cameras. But like Broom’s movies, Tickled is carefully constructed to seem much less professional than it is. The film is built as a thriller and edited – rather strategically – to make sure the villain is villainous and everyone around him either a victim, a lackey or an innocent bystander. I don’t think the various people involved are as naïve or innocent as depicted. But after seeing the film and reading some of the mountains of press about the film, I have been quite convinced the bad guy is pretty bad. He’s been showing up at screenings and bizarrely confronting the filmmakers, stating that Reeve should fear for his children, that both he and Farrier will go to jail. (Unlikely.)

This all makes for good press, but for me, it begs a few questions. Why is the villain so villainous? Why is he so focused on tickling? How is he getting away with it? These questions are asked but never really answered in a satisfying way. The psychological insight into the villain is brief and seemingly tacked on, while the insight into the popularity of tickling videos doesn’t exist. The bait-and-switch of turning a film about tickling into a psychological thriller does create an entertaining experience, but it also left me wondering about the tickling. I mean, that’s pretty weird.

Tickled

Written and directed by David Farrier and Dylan Reeve

Featuring David Farrier, Richard Ivey and David Starr

Rated R

Opens July 1 at Landmark Ken

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A quite disturbing dystopian satire

Originally published inLGBT Weekly

John C. Reilly, Colin Farrell and Ben Whishaw in The Lobster

The ads running for The Lobster have been using quotes from reviews describing the film as “hilariously frightening” and “wickedly funny” between quickly edited scenes, giving you the feeling that it’s a bit slapstick. I hate this kind of bait and switch sort of marketing. The movie is much, much more disturbing than it is funny, and often it’s funny simply because it’s so creepy and disturbing; nervous laughter is almost a gut reaction. I expected a wacky romp, but after the screen faded following the final, devastating scene of the film – maybe the most disturbing final scene of a film I have seen in a long time – I just sighed and said, “Well, that was f—ked up.” But just because its marketing is a lie doesn’t mean the movie isn’t a work of art, a haunting, unsettling, gorgeously filmed dystopian satire.

Colin Farrell is David, a schlubby man whose wife of 12 years has just died. In his world, you cannot be single. He arrives at a resort – where he is de facto imprisoned – and given two months to fall in love and partner up or be turned into an animal. He arrives with a dog, who we discover is his brother who failed to find a wife a couple of years before. The hotel’s manager (Olivia Colman) asks him what animal he’d like to become. “A lobster,” he says. “Why a lobster,” she asks. “Because lobsters live for over one hundred years, are blue-blooded like aristocrats, and stay fertile all their lives. I also like the sea very much.” She approves:

“I must congratulate you. The first thing most people think of is a dog, which is why the world is full of dogs. Very few people choose an unusual animal which is why they’re endangered. A lobster is an excellent choice.”

David is sad, mostly passive, and quietly desperate; a lisping man (John C. Reilly) is dopily uncritical of his situation; a limping man (Ben Whishaw) is as cynical and dishonest as a mercenary; the beautiful woman (Angeliki Papoulia) they’re all initially intrigued with is a heartless sociopath. They eat in banquet halls, play tennis, golf, go swimming, and hunt down “loners” in the woods, shooting them with tranquilizer darts. As time goes on, people fail – becoming ponies, camels, peacocks – and those in danger of failing get more anxious and begin looking for the flimsiest reasons to fall in love, or pretend to.

After David’s attempt at surviving as a human ends in spectacular, horrid disaster, he runs into the forest and joins the loners. While they are free from the confines of their repressive society, they aren’t any nicer. You must be alone, or else. Flirting is punished with torture. One of the loners is played by Rachel Weisz, and she is one of the few characters in the film with some love for the world, an easy smile, and hope. David is smitten. But the loners’ leader, who Léa Seydoux plays with seething evil, is keen to enforce the rules.

Yorgos Lanthimos’ film is shot with clear inspirations from Stanley Kubrick, using perspective, symmetries, and slowed movement to create a stark visual poetry perfect for the film’s themes. His and Efthymis Filippou’s screenplay, which is wholly original, terrifying, and yet romantic, never goes where you’d expect. I’m sure this made marketing difficult, since it made viewing difficult. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it though. The scathing critique of the social pressure to pair up, of the conflicting selfish desires to cave in and to run away, got under my skin. Because I’m single. It’s not very funny.

The Lobster

Directed by Yorgos Lanthimos

Written by Yorgos Lanthimos and Efthymis Filippou

Starring Colin Farrell, Rachel Weisz, and Léa Seydoux

Rated R

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