Lisbeth Salander and 1950s Russian jazz - two worthy acquired tastes

If you've been in an airport recently, you've seen the overwhelming amount of Stieg Larsson books out there.  His Millennium Trilogy has been a massive hit throughout Europe, and the crossover to the American market is really only beginning (film adaptations of the already produced Swedish films are in the hopper).  But rare indeed are the reviews that really credit without dissecting too much what I think is the inherent genius of the books.  There's just a whole lotta there there.  So without giving anything away, I'll offer up a straight shot, no sugar or milk.

With the publication of "The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets Nest" we're looking at the last of Larsson's work.  Don't even get duped by the whispered promise of a half-finished novel on his laptop when he up and died from a heart attack (although some pile of words claiming to be "inspired by Stieg Larsson" will surely be released someday).  Concentrate on this triptych of books, all centered on a vast array of Swedes.  Everyone drinks way too much coffee, sleeps like crap, and shares a reserve of withheld secrets that would drive more extroverted people positively bonkers.  The plot moves vast distances, but the abundance of details and precise dialogue drives many people to distraction.  I don't speak Swedish nor do I have any experience with Swedish literature.  But the little I know and love (fading memories of Ingmar Bergman films, Stellar Skarsgaard in the original "Insomnia") leads me to think that Larsson leans very much true toward the serious, powerful storyteller character of Swedish insight.  My rating of the collected Millenium Trilogy - a hard-earned B.  If you only read "The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo", do yourself a favor and finish it off the massive bundle.  You'll be much happier that way, I promise.

I'll finish off this year's SIFF reviews with the last and best film I saw.  "Hipsters" is a Russian film, set in 1955 amidst the gray anonymity of Soviet control, using a blinding array of colorful, beautiful characters to spin a story about rebellion.  20 years ago, this movie with this contrarian history of internal rebellion absolutely couldn't have been made.  "Hipsters" swept the Russian homegrown equivalent of last year's Oscars.  The director (Valery Todorovsky) was in Seattle for the screening I saw to answer questions from an audience that was largely Russian, including the grandmotherly woman sitting next to me laughing ahead in time as I tried to catch-up reading the subtitles.  Oh, and it's a musical.  Just plain great, too.  My rating - a solid B-plus, down from a possible A-level because it loses focus often enough to be noticeable.  But find a screening - it will be at the Best of SIFF screenings here in Seattle next weekend.  Otherwise, good luck finding an art house theatre that shows contemporary Russian musicals against a backdrop of Soviet oppression.  Shouldn't be hard.

Get fired up about "Monogamy"

Although few critics will admit it, the "job" is hackery.  Especially when it comes to movies.  I certainly include myself in this over-generalization.  Because all critics seize on small things.  And we all can be swayed by things as small as a random couple of dickheads sitting within earshot.  That's why criticism aggregation like what you see at Rotten Tomatoes serves a quantitative purpose.  But when you're talking about new movies showing at film festivals, you're out there in untracked snow.  A few misdirections or untimely distractions and the result can look like shite.  That's where I've been wading out into the massive programming schedule of SIFF.  I'm glad to be striding about, somewhat randomly.  But given all the unmitigated crap I'd been seeing, I was losing my interest in going further in that direction.

Then, I saw something I really liked.

The movie worth mentioning is "Monogamy".   The director, Dana Adam Shapiro, answered questions after last night's screening.  Dood seemed unpretentious, comfortable and a few degrees cooler than most of those spinning their wheels trying to dissect his film.  My take is pretty straight forward.  The stars are recognizable and fantastic (Chris Messina and Rashida Jones).  The supporting cast is natural and likable.  The story wants to be edgy, but it comes broadcast from far, far away like 20th Century border radio for those that knew where to turn their dials.  A jaunty version of New York jumps around the action (not really vice versa) throughout.  The take away?  It's the best thing I've seen at SIFF, so far.  Not that I've seen a ton.  Still, this movie got my swerve back on.  There is a reason to go to screenings and feel confident that I won't need to pull all my punches afterward - movies like this are lurking out there.  A movie I'll give a solid B-plus rating.

Then again, what do I know.  Or any other amateur critic, for that matter.  Enough to know that I'm psyched to work my way through a handful more screenings before SIFF runs the credits on Sunday.  Rock on.

Clearing the dreck

My absolutely horrible SIFF choices continue.  So to maybe clean my palette, I'll let you live the awfulness vicariously.

The documentary "8: The Mormon Proposition" was the best of the bunch.  My rating - a pretty flat C.  I totally agree with the desire to show how nefarious the Mormons were (and will be) when it came to funding the anti-gay marriage referendum on California's 2008 fall election ballot.  The crowd at the Egyptian Theatre couldn't have been more fabulous.  But preaching to the choir does not an inspiring sermon make.  Sorry.

The micro-budget Seattle feature "Perfect 10" premiered with all of the cast and the co-director/writer/producers present at SIFF Cinema's theatre in the Seattle Center.  They had a decent crowd and everyone was all smiles and encouraging pats on the back.  The story is about a chubby chaser, and the woman desirous of said chasing.  More or less.  I'm a total dick for being realistically harsh because this movie was like a poorly acted, weirdly shot student film with about as many laughs as an episode of "The King of Queens".  Still, my rating is a solid D.  The beauty of it, however, shows that SIFF surely encourages local productions and probably provides expertise to assist through the whole process.  I only hope they encourage ones that challenge the viewer a bit more.  Or at least don't make us feel sad leaving the theatre if we intend to say what we really thought.

Much easier to throw under the bus is the sci-fi belly flop "Splice" - it was at SIFF before opening in theatres last weekend.  Because of family logistics, I couldn't do SIFF screenings last night.  But I could catch this sad little thriller at the Oaktree 6 off Aurora Avenue (the most bleak with extra zazz multiplex in Seattle).  My rating is another solid D.  I imagine Adrian Brody bringing his Oscar with him to the set every day, hoping that might justify the choices he continues to make - both on and off screen.  Both he and Sarah Polley are much better than this.

Luckily for me, "Splice" is also a Joel Silver production.  So after a short respite from excusing this sort of movie, I'm back to calling out the guy for what he is - a modern Jabba the Hut who will finance just about anything salacious or soul destroying.  Speaking of which, I'd like to pitch an idea for a script, Joel.  Picture this - "The Stuff" meets "Wedding Crashers".  With zombies.  Or maybe Amazon women.  No, not women from Amazon.com.  The archers.  Look, just call me.  I'm still working on the story boards and sorta spitballing here.  But it's gonna be huge.  Babe.

Sometimes, standards are meant to be lowered

The Memorial Day weekend here in Seattle was as gray as BP's cafeteria banter.  Although a glorious Monday afternoon and evening was enough to tempt us with what's surely to come.  We needed to stick around town, so what better way to mix it up than to see some movies at SIFF, right?  Wrong.  I chose like a blind squirrel looking for tasty treats in a huge, barren parking lot.  Anything that might have been a nut turned out to be a rock or a moldy cigar butt or part of a human finger.  Well, actually it wasn't that bad.  But I did see some dreck. So I'll keep my movie reviews short.  Including the one surprise that rounded it out Monday afternoon.

The documentary "Gerrymandering" was a back-up choice. My rating is a completely bored D.  Nice filmmaker.  He seemed like he wanted to buy everyone a latte afterward.  The Guvernator of Cullyforneeya was drawn into the "story" as the hero.  I sat near some people trying to laugh politely at non-existent jokes.  Gerrymandering is actually meant to be pronounced "Gary-mandering".  And scene.

The Aussie slice of life comedy "My Year Without Sex" was advertised as a crowd pleaser.  About a brain aneurysm.  And abstinence.  And a lovable, horny minister.  I sat between a cute grandma who was seeing her first film of the festival ("I'm easy," she told me beforehand, with no irony whatsoever) and a young software programmer trying to chat up his too-hot-for-him date who didn't put away her iPhone.  My rating - a very mean D.  I'm the meanie, mind you - the movie itself is quite nice, albeit dull.  Still, barely a rental.

Following that and because Maya had an ongoing playdate that freed us up, Sarah and I were going to catch something as a late matinee.  "We" chose badly (my idea).  VERY badly.  "MacGruber" (not at SIFF, but street cred lightyears away at the metroplex close to U-Dub).  I took the whole irony of "so bad it will be good" too far.  It was awful.  We full up and walked out after almost an hour.  Which should have earned us combat pay.  My rating is a rare but deserved F.  Never see this movie.  But then "we" did something inspired (Sarah's idea).  We caught two bad movies for the price of one.  "Prince of Persia" had started just 10 minutes after "MacGruber".  By the time we sat down, who knows what amount of hooey had been already spun to set up the remaining action.  Jake Gyllenhaal's long, sweaty hair deserved its own trailer.  The princessy chick has these inexplicable freckles that totally work (her name is Gemma Arterton, which sounds like a mistake).  Aside from constant action scenes blurring past, it's all close-ups.  The movie would probably earn a rating of, at best, C-minus.  But since it was the best movie I saw all weekend, I'm inflating this one. I'll give it a...well, still a C-minus (I am a professional bound by a code or something, after all).  Yet to think that "Prince of Persia" reinstilled my hopefulness when it comes to movies is a rare twist of logic, indeed.  Thank you, Joel Silver.  And with that said, I must now go take a karma shower.

Hope your own hits vastly outweigh the intolerable misses today.  Rock on.

Untangling the meaning of "Restrepo"

It's tough to do justice to the documentary I saw at SIFF last night - "Restrepo".  Not because it was great or awful - it was neither of those things.  In fact, my rating is a somewhat uneasy B.  Coupled with a strong recommendation that you see it when it comes out in an art-house sized release this July.  I'm more flummoxed by what this documentary could have been.  And maybe should have been.  As it is, I think this movie will appeal to two margins - the strongly anti-war and the proudly pro-soldier.  Some people surely can belong to both margins.  My point is that a vast middle won't find what they're looking for in this documentary.

For the nugget of backgound, Sebastian Junger (who also wrote the book "War" based on this experience) and Tim Hetherington spent big chunks of time embedded with the US Army in the Korengal Valley, Afghanistan.  This movie is a straight up cinema verite` experience - digital video shot while in combat and just plain dickin' around with the soldiers in their precarious base of operations there.  With some post-action interviews shot on the American base in Italy weaved in to provide the narrative skeleton.  In the action footage, you see all the junk included - dirty camera lenses, manic shooting while running around looking for safety amidst the din of activity, lots of far-from-eloquent profanity splattering off the walls in the heat of action or the cold boredom of inaction.  You see some poignancy in the reactions to lives lost (this was the deadliest area in all of Afghanistan for American forces).  But I found myself teetering on the edge of my seat waiting for...something else.  Something like a moral.  Maybe the point is that one wouldn't be, shouldn't be delivered by these men.  They're meant to out there, doing the job and not asking the larger questions.  But isn't that why we have combat journalists?  If they don't ask those questions or disseminate at least the framework for judgment given the context, isn't it all just a bunch of tough guy posturing?  There is no answer to that.  And maybe I'm a cliche` - someone looking for a kernel of answer to a question that no one can pose.  But I think that question is out there.  War?  What is it good for.

"Restrepo" (named for one of the Privates killed in action and the subsequent name of the forward base of operations in "The Kop") is important.  I'm just not yet sure why.  Maybe it's a karmic pairing in my mind with Memorial Day weekend.  And the concern that a vast middle of the American population doesn't even know why they've got Monday off.  If you're in Seattle, there's another showing today (3:45 @ Harvard Exit).  Definitely worth a viewing and the conversation that will result afterward.

Good "Subversive" fun

There exist those rare, successful bloggers that have turned their small "f" fame into book deals.  They are by far the exception to the rule.  And now, thanks to David Goodwillie, there is a novel about a blogger who achieves something else along those lines.  Don't worry - no spoilers here.  But I do need to say a few things about this very good novel - "American Subversive" - in the course of backing up my review.  First of all my rating - a very entertained B-plus.  More importantly, I want to suggest that anyone wanting to blow through an otherwise safe, secure, unaffected summer day give this entertaining read a deserved looksie.  I don't know Goodwillie.  If I did, the first thing I'd do is question him about his family name.  But aside from the easy joke, I would also love to pick his brain about writing a book that is so current, so spot on, and so damn ahead of the ever arching cultural curve.  If this book was a futures market bet, he'd have hit it right on the money.  The basic set-up can be pulled from the book jacket - blogger, domestic terrorist, intertwined destinies.  The point of my appreciation is how he pulled together such a smooth flowing thriller that feels like it was written on the fly in the past month.  But with buckets of polish.  If you go for such reads, this one's a slam dunk.  Especially if you've wasted time blogging (paid or otherwise) or planned to attack the State (you know who you are).

I saw another SIFF film last night @ the Neptune.  It's actually a collection of mini documentaries filmed by Seattle filmmaker John Jeffcoat to be included in Lynn Shelton's new season of the MTV series "$5 Cover" (this summer will focus on Seattle).  It was truly cool.  The crowd was not huge, but there were plenty of film geeks and bands scattered throughout (I saw two of the women from the Tea Cozies - one of the featured bands - sitting near the back on my way out).  I felt comfortably half my age watching all the featured bands doing what musicians do behind the scene - talking about how they work, what they love, and showing how their interactions influence their performances.  Or at least that's what I took from it all.  I wholeheartedly recommend what Jeffcoat's done.  Especially when you hear how he filmed all the HD footage with an unobtrusive Canon SLR and a kit he could fit into his backpack.  If you're a film geek, you know what I mean.  But if you're not - or even if you're not that connected to music being made and performed here in Seattle - it's a compelling mix of personalities.  My rating - a surprised high-quality B.

Hope your own snippets of life are worth some big screen time today.  Rock on.

Wading into the SIFF, needing to wash off that Hollywood oiliness

The Seattle Int'l Film Festival (SIFF) is underway, and this is the year I've promised myself some steady (albeit very selective) viewing.  I started off last night with a skiing/mountain climbing/triumph of the spirit/blah blah blah documentary - "Mount St. Elias".  It was imposingly beautiful, shot in lavish overstatement, chock full of gratuitous Red Bull products placement, and a total piece of self-absorbed crap.  My rating - a very harsh C-minus.  The storyline is all about trying to ski an impossibly tough 18,000 vertical feet from the summit all the way to sea level.  Yawn.  The alpinists were impossible to warm up to.  But the mere fact that I was surrounded by a very appreciate film festival crowd totally eager and wanting to chat it up - whatever the subject - made it all worthwhile.

On the other hand, big budget bunk didn't exactly caress my movie-going rump a few weeks back.  Namely, "Iron Man 2" was a waste of time and as unoriginal as another GOP "Contract With America".  Unfortunately, I think this movie was bland and undeserving enough to actually start taking the sheen off Robert Downey Jr.  Or to do so once again.  The good news is that, of course, everyone looks good and there are light moments.  Still, what a sad follow-up to the utterly lovable original.  My rating - a flat C.  I'll need to look elsewhere for the hotness this summer, obviously.  Hence, more SIFF to come.

Hope your own Festival line-up also gives you plenty of selections to pick through today.  Rock on.