new to DVD: Authors Anonymous

In several previous blog entries/ movie reviews, I've noted the increasing futility of documentary-style horror films, but I've got to say that one thing even worse than a documentary-style horror film is the documentary-style comedy.  I'm gonna go out on a limb and say if your name isn't Christopher Guest, Rob Reiner, or Woody Allen, do not even attempt to coat your comedy in documentary wrappings.  It rarely, rarely works.

Authors Anonymous is the kind of movie that makes me question my earlier assessment of talent for everyone involved. Although the cast of this film does a decent -- and that is the right word, not "good," not "bad," only "decent" -- job in the scenes where they actually interact with each other, whenever the movie bothers to remember that it's supposed to be a documentary, all of the actors overact outrageously.  It's not effective, it's not funny, it's just annoying and stupid.  Honestly, from the false interview scenes, you'd think that none of these actors have ever had a conversation with anyone before.  They think that shrieking, or speaking  . . . in . . . exaggeratedly . . . halted . . . sentences, or aggressively poking themselves in the ear in a lame and extremely unsuccessful attempt to mimic unconcious fidgeting, makes them seem "natural" and "spontaneous."  It's maddeningly irritating -- not to mention wildly inconsistent, as the movie, without any sort of transition from one format to the other, often forgets it's supposed to be a documentary, and just as often presents itself as a standard Hollywood film.

All of this is a real shame, because if the filmmakers really had stuck with a more traditional format, this movie might have been enjoyable.  The story involves a group of unsuccessful writers who have formed a sort of support group to encourage each other's writing.  The story is ostensibly set into motion when the least likely member of the group -- Hannah Rinaldi, a seemingly ditzy blonde who is completely unfamiliar with even the most famous pieces of literature -- suddenly sells her book, for a deal so lucrative that the other members of the writing group can't long contain their envy.  But the truth is, every character in the writing group has their own interesting quirks, setting up a series of dynamics with great potential for a movie.  Unfortunately, every time Authors Anonymous starts to get interesting -- and there are several moments when it does -- the movie gets distracted by its own, misguided documentary / interview segments.

In terms of outrageously bad acting, the three worst offenders in the interview segments are Kaley Cuoco as Hannah, and Dylan Walsh and Teri Polo as the Mooneys, a couple whose seemingly perfect marriage completely falls apart when it turns out that Mrs. Mooney has been sleeping with other men, allegedly, as she insists, only "for research" for her erotic novel.

Chris Klein is slightly better as Henry Obert, a charmingly sweet young man who has a crush on Hannah.  Henry is Hannah's polar opposite, a writer who deeply loves literature, knows all the great works, and can quote from Fitzgerald by memory.

By far the best actor in the bunch -- and also, arguably, the best-written character -- is the late Dennis Farina, as the unforgettable John K. Butzin.  John, a die-hard Tom Clancy fan, self-publishes his Clancyish novel The Roaring Lion through a highly questionable self-publishing firm called U R the Publisher!, and the scenes in which John becomes increasingly delusional in the belief that his self-publishing has made him a success, are alterately funny and sad.

Not only does Farina sell this character, but unlike all the other actors in the film, he even sells the documentary interview scenes.  Yes, he's just being Dennis Farina being Dennis Farina, but it's that very naturalism that all the other actors sorely, sorely lack in this movie.  When John repeatedly claims to the other characters that "a certain Mr. Clint Eastwood" is going to turn The Roaring Lion into a major motion picture, you actually almost believe him, even though John really has no reason at all to think that Eastwood has ever even heard of John or his novel.

I think Farina's perfomance may be one possible key to how they could have made this a better movie: Get more naturalistic actors, who can really sell those interview segments.  Alternatively, forget about the dumb false-documentary idea altogether and just give us an old-fashioned regular movie.

I mentioned earlier in this review that false documentaries rarely work, and I'll tell you one reason:  It's quite simply lazy filmmaking.  The best screenwriters have always said, good filmmaking doesn't involve telling things to its audience, it involves showing things to its audience. Pseudo-documentaries take the cheap and easy way out: The filmmakers want to communicate to its audience, and figures the best way is to just have a series of "interviews" in which the characters talk to the viewer.  Yes, it's efficient, but lord is it bland and uninteresting.  Example: Mrs. Mooney's affairs.  Imagine all the different ways a good filmmaker might communicate that a woman sleeps around behind her husband's back!  In Authors Anonymous, we learn by Teri Polo telling the audience, "yes, so what if I've slept with other men?"  Efficient?  Certainly.  Compelling cinema?  I think we all know the answer to that.

retro movie review: John Landis double feature

John Landis was certainly productive in 1985; that year saw two Landis feature films released in theaters, a rarity for modern-day directors.  The first, Into the Night, immediately vanished into obscurity, where it remains to this day.  The second, Spies Like Us, was a box office success and is fondly remembered today as an example of when Chevy Chase was not just funny, but hilarious, and wildly popular.  A different era, it seems.  Spies Like Us is indeed a good film -- not as great as its surprisingly rabid fans may recall, perhaps, but certainly entertaining -- but Into the Night, despite its obscurity, is an equally good film, and has always been closer to my heart.

Into the Night stars Jeff Goldblum -- not as famous as he is today, but then considered a "rising star" -- as Ed Okun, a man whose chronic insomnia is starting to affect his work at an architectural firm.  His buddy Herb (Dan Aykroyd) urges him to take a much-needed vacation, and Ed resists at first, until he discovers that his wife is having an affair and that his insomnia is due to the fact that, on a purely subconscious level, he has sort of suspected this for a while.

Ed heads for the airport, but he never does take that vacation.  Instead, he meets Diana, a modern-day take on the classic trope, the damsel in distress.  Diana, played by a then-unknown Michelle Pfeiffer, is on the run from diamond smugglers, and Ed, almost on a whim, decides to help her try to find out why they're after her, and why her usual friends have all mysteriously and suddenly turned their back on her.  Ed's motivation isn't due to attraction or conventional heroism; he merely helps Diana because, lost without sleep and a marriage, he has nothing better to do.

Although the plot ostensibly calls for an action hero in the lead, Goldblum is indeed better casting, as the character requires acting chops and a bit of quirkiness rather than Bruce Willis-style hijinks.  Into the Night may not be for everyone's taste, but it is a good film, balancing action, comedy, and mystery.

My favorite scene is the big fight scene, for two reasons that make it a true novelty: First, the fight takes place in a living room while Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man plays on the TV in the background, and Landis ingeniously choreographs the fight to be scored by the Hans Salter music emanating from the classic film playing in the background.  Second, the big fight is between two tertiary characters played by rock legends Carl Perkins and David Bowie.  This is both daring and fun; Bowie may be something of an actor, but Perkins isn't, and more to the point, both of these characters have only appeared in one or two other scenes, but Landis chose to give them the big fight scene, limiting Goldblum's participation to a very brief interaction before Ed chooses to flee and let Bowie and Perkins duke it out.

Speaking of Bowie and Perkins, Landis has always been a fan of making his viewers play "spot the cameo," and Into the Night represents the most eclectic cast he's ever assembled, made up of character actors, rock stars, and the most film directors ever assembled for any single non-documentary film.

Spies Like Us is by far more familiar to viewers, and more conventional in its concept.  Much has been made of the fact that Landis intended it as an homage to the "Road pictures" that once starred Bing Crosby and Bob Hope (who makes a cameo), but the film's commercial success lies in the fact that Spies Like Us also plays as the sort of modern-day action-comedy buddy picture that was just beginning to become popular at the time (and remains popular to this day).  The film, for those relatively few who are unfamiliar with it, stars Chevy Chase and Dan Aykroyd as Emmett Fitzhume and Austin Millbarge, two nobodies who work low, low-level jobs for the Department of Defense.  The story is set into motion when Austin and Emmett are suddenly assigned to active espionage fieldwork; they are tricked into thinking they've been promoted, but they're actually just serving as unknowing decoys for the real spies.

The script is pure formula, and certainly doesn't deserve any awards, but it does exactly what a film of this type needs to do, providing Aykroyd and Chase with enough amusing situations for them to use their established personas in various ways.

As with nearly all Landis films -- even if not to the degree of Into the Night -- Spies Like Us is chock full of cameo appearances, from director/ Muppeteer Frank Oz as a Pentagon classroom instructor to blues legend B.B. King as a CIA agent.

If you're of my generation, you've probably seen and enjoyed (and might even be able to quote) the fondly remembered Spies Like Us.  If you like your movies a bit more quirky, however, rent Into the Night.  I don't think you'll be disappointed.

Overlooked DVD: Henry's Crime

The first several shots of Henry's Crime speak volumes about both the main character and the tone of the movie itself.  Toll-booth worker Henry Torne, played by Keanu Reeves in one of his best performances, sits silently in his booth, watching as the world passes him by.  Few cars come along, and those that do all go through the several EZ-Pass lanes.  Henry's booth is the only one manned by an actual human.  Despite the boredom Henry is clearly feeling, he doesn't do anything to try to amuse himself.  He doesn't play with a smart phone.  He doesn't read a book.  He doesn't watch a portable TV.  These are things you'd expect someone in Henry's position to do to pass the lonely hours.  You'd expect this in real life, and certainly in a movie.  But Henry does nothing but stare at his folded hands, with a sad look on his face.  Finally, as dawn approaches, a vehicle heads in Henry's direction, and Reeves, in an excellent display of subtlety, gets truly excited.  Then the car, at the last moment, very suddenly swerves into one of the EZ-Pass lanes, and Henry, disappointed, resumes staring at his hands.  This is a man who, very clearly, is waiting for something to happen.  Something, anything.

Something does happen.  Henry's "friends" Eddie and Joe bilk him into giving them a ride to a ball game, tell him that they have to stop at a bank "for beer money," and rob the bank, effectively framing the clueless and innocent Henry for being the getaway driver.  99.9% of people anywhere would consider this an extremely unfortunate series of events, but Henry is just glad to have the break in the monotony.

Henry is lucky to land in a prison with the nicest convicts in all of cinema.  Henry's cellmate Max (James Caan), who seems to be the community leader within the prison's social structure, is an earnestly nice guy who teaches the prison motto regarding how many convicts claim to be innocent:  If you do the time, you might as well have done the crime.  You can tell from Henry's face that he is listening closely.

When Henry and Max are released from prison, Henry takes Max's lesson to heart, though not in a way Max ever would have dreamed:  Since Henry served time for robbing a bank he never robbed, Henry reasons that the only way to set things right is to actually rob the bank.

At this point, it may seem like we're heading into very familiar territory, but although Henry's Crime certainly features elements of typical heist films, Henry's Crime itself is far from typical, especially for films of this genre.  For one, the movie isn't afraid to feature quiet moments of observation.  For another, Henry himself is an intriguing character, never going where most movie characters would in similar situations.  For example (and here I feature a minor spoiler, but only to illustrate the nature of Henry's character, not in any way that ruins the plot) Henry gets out of prison, heads home, and discovers that his house is now occupied by Joe, one of the two guys who framed Henry in the first place -- and, to add insult to injury, Joe is now married to the wife who left Henry while he was in prison.  Most movies would take all of this and make it a motive for Henry to go on a revenge spree against Joe and his accomplices, but Henry, seeing that Joe is making their wife happy, instead just wishes them both well, and you get the sense that he really means it.  It's not that he's still as clueless as he was back during the bank robbery, it's just that his ex's happiness (they split on good terms) is a higher priority than punishing Joe for wrong-doing.

Now, it may seem like I've explained the whole movie's plot, but believe it or not, all of the preceding is just the set-up.  The plot finally settles in when Henry and Max discover that there used to be an underground tunnel between the bank and the theater next door, and their robbery scheme becomes dependent on access to the theater.  Their solution: get jobs in the theater, where Max starts working as a general "volunteer" and Henry lands the role of Lopakhin in Chekhov's The Cherry Orchard.

Many scenes from the Chekhov play are featured, which may fool some people into thinking that this movie is a vanity project for Keanu Reeves, a chance to prove he can do the classics.  But here's the thing:  Reeves, who is all too often dismissed as a "bad actor," is actually quite good in this film, both as Henry, and yes, as Lopakhin in the scenes from The Cherry Orchard.  Extra kudos may be necessary due to the unique nature of Reeves's character in the film.  One reason I enjoyed Henry's Crime is because it gave me something new in the Henry Torne character; I've never seen anything like him in the movies, and yet, he comes across as wholly believable.

Other aspects of the film I liked:  James Caan as Max Saltzman, whose role as mentor gradually evolves into partner, then sidekick.  Vera Farmiga as Henry's love interest Julie, an aspiring actress who plays opposite Henry in the Chekhov play, but had already met Henry in what critics love to call a "meet cute."  And I loved how the writers found several lines from the Chekhov play that seem to serve as direct commentary on Henry, Julie, and their circumstances.

Don't get me wrong, Henry's Crime is not a perfect film.  One of my biggest problems with the movie was the Motown soundtrack, with lots of good songs that just didn't seem to mesh with the tone of the film.  My other beef was with the ending, which really, really, really made me want to know what happens next.  But if your biggest beef with a movie is that it leaves you wanting to spend more time with its characters, that's a pretty good sign.