“Atonement” The short answer review for Atonement is this: Stupid, nosy and privileged brat ruins every ones lives. The end. The longer version is, god this film was laborious and overdone and we’re sure the book it was based on was the same thing. So basically this aforementioned brat (the overrated Saoirse Ronan) sees Keira Knightley and James McAvoy’s character fucking and because she’s misinterpreted an ealier sex-filled accidental note that McAvoy sent Knightley (which the brat fucking read), she think he’s some kind of sex monster that has taken advantage of her. Shortly thereafter a friend of the rich, privileged family is raped and Ronan assumes the man she’s barely seen commit the act and flee must be the “sex-crazed” McAvoy. He goes to jail and is only released when he is offered the chance to fight for his country in WWII as the only alternative (yes, the film is typically grand and sweeping with a few lavishly orchestrated camera moves). From there, the film recounts the lovers reunion. Only (spoiler warning) we find out that they’re actually never reunited (they both die during WWII) and this is a guilt-ridden fabricated tale from the now-older and dying Ronan who’s only pitiful excuse for separating these two people is to write a fictional book about them growing old and in love together. We’re sure this lame attempt at redemption was reassuring to the ghosts of both these people who were fucked over by this incredibly stupid, meddlesome child. Thanks for nothing. [-B]
The Kite Runner: Like “Atonement,” this film is also about shame and the life-long attempts at redemption (albiet via willful evasion of said shame initially). ‘Kite Runner’ should have been a bittersweet and wonderfully tearful story of complicated friendship and it is, but it’s not without flaws. Set in Afghanistan right before and during the Russian invasion (see “Charlie Wilson’s War” below), the story centers around the friendship of two kite-flying enthusiast boys: the well-to-do Amir and his live-in-servant best friend Hassan. The boys are thicker than thieves; Amir is a budding storyteller/novelist and Hassan is his admiringly loyal friend and champion. The same can’t be said of Amir, who turns cowardly and then shamefully distant when he witnesses Hassan’s rape at the hands of an elder bully, spiteful and racist towards Hassan’s Hazara background. Sure, it’s what children do when they’re confused, but it’s achingly painful to see the privileged boy betray his doggedly faithful friend – and these agonies are deftly conveyed and this is where the film shows its strength. But things go wrong two-fold: One the story is told by feel-good fauxteur Marc Forster (“Finding Neverland”) who has done good work (“Monster’s Ball”), but who can’t seem to resist putting a Disney-like smile and sigh at the end of each of his films (“Stranger Than Fiction”). Two: The Russians invade Afghanistan and Amir and his father flee to the U.S. which robs us of more time with the children. The elder Amir, trying to forget the shame of abandoning his friend literally and figuratively, never quite connects the same way the first half of the story does. Then the film becomes a thriller as the now well-to-do novelist goes back to the homeland to face the Taliban and save his best friend’s son from further rape and hardship. It’s just too many tones and moods to handle. The nice-ribbon wrapped ending does give you some full-circle redemption and closure, but the bumpy 2nd half make the overall feel slightly unsatisfying. Blame it on the original story? [B+]
“Charlie Wilson’s War”: The main repetitive defense one hears about Mike Nichols MOR fauxlitical ’80s Afghan War film is, “But dude, Phillip Seymour Hoffman is amazing.” And sure he is, but when isn’t this the case? First off Aaron Sorkin is grossly overrated. Yes, it’s nice to see Tom Hanks not playing the perfectly, noble everyman. In fact, he plays quite the ignominious opposite – a sexist, drunkard with loose morals but all this does not a great movie make. Based on “a true story,” CWW tells the tale of the seemingly innocuous democratic Texas senator Charlie Wilson who apparently single-handedly helped the Afghani’s fight back the Russian invasion that started at the end of 1979 by supplying the Afghan Mujahideen insurgents with a shitload of weapons. Nichols and the script can’t help paint Wilson as the patron saint of the poor Afghan’s while everyone knows the motivations were anti-communist/pro protecting U.S. territorial interests and not altruistic (yes, these topics come up, but Wilson’s saintliness takes precedence). Unlike most political films, ‘Wilson’s War’ thankfully doesn’t lecture, but the whole implied point of the film – the Mujahideen’s training and weapons eventually became the extremist Taliban that led to 9/11 – is really glossed overlooked and likely too subtle for most Americans that actually felt no shame in paying to see ‘National Treasure.’ The film’s ending quote is Wilson saying we won the war, but we “fucked up the end game” (meaning didn’t provide Afghanistan with money to rebuild and educate and left them for dead once they had fought the Russians for us). Well, the same can be said for the movie. [-B]
Sweeney Todd: The Barber Of Fleet Street: Ok, first off Stephen Sondheim sucks and his songs are so… grossly ghey Broadway. Tim Burton hasn’t made a decent film in years (last one was the fantastic “Ed Wood”) and his fascination with goth and all things macabre has long become tedious and overbearingly predictable. Yes, Johnny Depp is always good, yes, it’s nice to see Sascha Baron Cohen (his short appearance might be the film’s sole delight), yes, Helen Bonham’s pendulous bosoms spilling out of her dress are nice to look at, but the film is just rather ridiculous (as is the story it’s based on). ‘Todd’ tells the story of a happily married barber who’s family and love is torn asunder by a jealous judge who wants his girl. The barber is imprisoned on bullshit charges and his family life is then finito. Years later, he returns to renact vengeance on the people of Fleet street by subjecting them to horrendously atonal and poncy British-y musical numbers (oh yeah, and slitting their throats wide open under the guise of a close shave). There’s lots of blood and lots of singing, repeat, rinse, repeat. Most of the redeeming qualities of this film is that it’s so preposterously over-the-top that it’s ridiculousness becomes rather amusing in the same way that an annoying buffoon repeating the same gaffe eventually becomes funny. If this scores any major Oscars we resign. [C]
