Published Feb. 12, 2010
For those wondering where Joe Johnston would take his re-imagining of 1941’s “The Wolf Man,” the answer comes early. “The Wolfman” (one word, like Batman or Darkman) opens with a guy waving a lantern around a Victorian-era English wood, his onscreen life lasting just long enough for him to shout, “I know you’re out there,” before being promptly disemboweled. Johnston, directing from a screenplay by Andrew Kevin Walker and David Self, is serious about gore. Sadly, that appears to be all he’s serious about. Treating story as an unhappy chore to be rushed through—like foreplay or washing the dishes—Johnston wastes no time bringing Lawrence (Benicio Del Toro) home to the creepy estate of his equally creepy father (Anthony Hopkins). There, Lawrence attends the funeral of his little brother—revealed in that first scene to be a man of real guts—and falls on cue for the dead man’s sweetheart (Emily Blunt). Then he gets bitten by a werewolf—and if history has taught us one thing, we know what happens next. Full moon–triggered bloodbaths follow, each one loud and grisly enough to command even a torture porn–era audience’s attention. (more…)
Published Feb. 4, 2010
“My name’s Temple Grandin. I’m not like other people. I think in pictures, then connect them.” So begins the HBO biopic “Temple Grandin,” with Claire Danes announcing herself as the titular character—her shouty, unselfconscious voice reinforcing her “not like other people” status. Grandin, we soon learn, was diagnosed with autism back when doctors offered such news with a cigarette and the name of a nearby institution. But Grandin’s mother was not the institutionalizing type and instead devoted herself to molding her daughter into a productive member of society. Mission accomplished. Grandin would eventually become a celebrity in an obscure corner of the world: professional livestock handling. She would design a humane system for slaughterhouses through which almost half the cattle in North America now shuffle on their way to our grills. She holds a Ph.D. in animal sciences, teaches at Colorado State University, and has written two New York Times bestsellers. She is inspirational TV-movie gold. (more…)
Published Feb. 3, 2010
How noir is “Terribly Happy”? So noir that when the cigarette-smoking blonde with sex in her eyes explains where the bicycle-shop clerk ran off to, she says, “He just disappeared, the way people disappear around here. I’d better not say any more.” She then shuts up and skedaddles. That, friends, is pretty damn noir—just like the rest of “Terribly Happy,” a brisk ride from director Henrik Ruben Genz. Folks in Denmark liked it enough to make it their selection for the Academy Awards’ best foreign language film category, and there’s little reason to argue with the Danes over their choice. (more…)
Published March, 2010 (to open, double click on larger image after the link)
Tracy Morgan enters Bar Breton, a Flatiron District bistro known best for its haute burger, wearing a walking cast. The rest of his outfit is less than subtle. Besides the moon boot, Morgan sports a gray hoodie, a black do-rag, the dirtiest white sweatpants in the long and storied history of white sweatpants, and a leather bomber jacket with faux-fur collar and cuffs. Even if he weren’t the most famous black man on network TV, he’d draw some attention from this lunch crowd, smugly pleased to be eating comfort food from a Michelin-star chef. Morgan isn’t even at his table before one of these folks, a suit-clad, bespectacled man in his 30s, bellows, “Yo, what happened?” and motions to the leg. The question is not appreciated. “Why don’t you say hello first?” Morgan asks in a more subdued, nearly dread-inducing version of his trademark delivery. It has the desired effect. “I’m sorry,” the guy says. “Hi. How are you doing?” (more…)
