Tag Archives: Anna Faris

RIORI Vol 3, Installment 96: Michael Dowse’s “Take Me Home Tonight” (2011)

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The Players…

Topher Grace, Anna Faris, Teresa Palmer, Dan Folger, Chris Pratt and Michael Biehn.

The Story…

MIT grad Matt has a hot degree on his wall, a go-nowhere sh*t job at a video store and his self-confidence resembling his dreams of success: fractured. He needs a lucky break.

One day, Matt’s old high school crush Tori visits the store. An awkward reunion and moments later Matt is lying his ass off about his future job at Goldman Sachs. The things guys’ll say to nab a pretty girl.

And the yang to Tori’s ying is Matt’s sarcastic sister and co-worker Wendy, always dispensing advice to her hapless bro. Like telling him what a tool he is and Tori is still way out of his league. Thanks, sis.

Now what? Believe in his lie to nail Tori or get his ass as far away from VHS as possible? And what’s this about a Labor Day reunion party?

Let the shames begin.

The Rant…

I was a Reagan Baby.

Vox populi dubbed me as Generation X, the aimless children of the Baby Boomers expected to do less with their lives due to the conspicuous consumption of their parents. Gloom and doom. Dial-up Internet, rollerblades and Adam Sandler as a successful movie star earning a salary equal to the GDP of Honduras. We mastered cynicism as well as sarcasm and irony also. Sorry and you’re welcome.

Since there was so much negativity and disdain spread like so much soft butter slathered over my generation, I have come to hate that Gen X epithet. I prefer the term above. It’s a term Dave Chappelle coined on his wonderful but ill-fated sketch comedy show in the early aughts. The turning of a phrase—literally and metaphorically—set my imagination in motion. “Reagan Babies.” Curious way to put it, but it stuck with me. So much so it got my mind reeling back towards a scene in Richard Linklater’s period piece Dazed And Confused. The geeks of the graduating class were musing over the “every other decade theory.” To wit, the 60s were awesome, the 70s sucked and maybe the 80s would be radical.

I’ve chewed on that theory for years. Why? Let’s put it this way: every decade in America as sort of a signature over the past hundred years. From the war years with FDR’s assuring fireside chats to the post-war 50s with the kind, conformist atmosphere paired with the interstate system under Ike (small wonder why the mutant, art deco automobile took shape) to the tumultuous 60s with its assassinations and Woodstock to Tricky Dick and the grimy 70s giving birth to cinema nouveau, punk rock and calamari. All different shades of the same America every 10 years. And not.

As a disenfranchised denizen of Gen X, I was raised as a Reagan Baby. I was in diapers in the 70s, but was kicking around with Transformers and Nintendo into the  next decade. There was a definite shade of society brewing under the arthritic eye of our 40th prez, still regretting leaving Hollywood for politics and winning the California gubernatorial chair. I bet he missed slapping Angie Dickenson (he in turn started on Russia instead). Such sleepiness enabled a radical, day-glo, junk bond, Duran Duran-like culture of freewheeling spending, MTV, Gordon Gecko-esque bacchanal of plastic living. Disposable fun and a lot of six-pack rings choking otters but saving the whales instead. Cold War jitters. If the end of days is nigh, why not guzzle wine coolers?

Stuff like that. It was my first home. My second was college in the 90s, but I’ve already covered that territory.

The 80s were glitzy, a second Golden Age. When Top Gun was the film on everybody’s lips. The decade began with Reagan being wounded and Lennon getting murdered. It ended with the collapse of the Berlin Wall and Exxon struggling to clean up a spill. It was indeed a plastic time, malleable, false. The only tremor of fear was nuclear holocaust, which might have ushered in such notorious selfish navel-gazing. And Duran Duran. If we’re all gonna go let’s make it big. Like that Wham! album.

I’m losing a lot you.

But don’t doubt me. I was there…and then later. Both the key 80s John Hughes movies (eg; Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club et al) have the same zing-zang as the nostalgia flicks (eg: The Wedding Singer, 200 Cigarettes et al) about 80s pop culture do. There and gone, only punctuated by music videos, Swatches, Calvin Klein and…well, wine coolers. Fads, trends, flash, dash and gone. Disposable, and quite fun. Doy. Reckless and stupid. Everyone’s brains were on hold. Like the Circle Jerks screamed, “Deny everything!” Sounded good at the time. And it worked. Until Kurt Cobain. Ah well. All things must pass.

The 80s were all about artifice as far as I’m concerned and/or learned. A short-lived Gilded Age. But it sure was fun. Carefree. No recycling programs but Steve Guttenberg as a vital Hollywood commodity. I guess you have to have been there, or at least heard about it and nod your head. A simpler time, devoid of streaming video, the Internet and Guttenberg. Just VHS on Fridays, Bartles & Jaymes at the local fern bar, Super Mario Bros 2 and impending nuclear annihilation. Good times, good times.

I know I’m painting a satiric picture, but so was Take Me Home Tonight aiming at. So now go with it, you dorks…

Ah, the hell that is the post-grad years. Get your diploma from an esteemed educational institution only to find some lowly part-time job at the mall. No benefits in sight, no vacation time, no respect and minimum wage all the way. Yee haw. Feels like your four years were a waste. And they were.

So Matt (Grace) earns his keep alongside his pesky sister Wendy (Faris) at the local video shop, eking out some sort of living. Wendy’s cool with just having a job, but Matt is growing increasingly bitter having a degree from MIT under his belt and shilling John Hughes’ greatest hits day in and day out. Even his dopey friend Barry (Folger) has a cherry gig selling cars and he’s borderline retarded, a constant reminder to Matt that he never mentally graduated from 5th grade. Computer science anyone?

Nope. Only copies of Wall Street if you don’t mind. Matt has begun to mind a lot of things, hence the bitterness. And jealousy. And feeling scared all the time.

Speaking of which, Matt has come to the determination that despite his education, he’s learned nothing. All he thinks about between pushing fresh copies of Ferris Bueller is where did all the time go? He had his eyes so fixed on his potential future he forgot all he had in the past. Which wasn’t much, but high school was better than his dead-end future. He always got into the best kind of trouble with his demented best bud, Wendy always got his nerdy back and there was always Tori (Palmer) hovering in the ether. The lovely Tori, so close yet so far.

High school crushes can be fun in a sick sort of way, and Matt has held on to that kind of nauseous torch for a long time. Too long.

So when Tori tells Matt about this Labor Day party with all of his high school idiots (after greasing Tori’s wheels with the big lie he works for Goldman Sachs) he figures grab Barry and Wendy and get all nostalgic, point and laugh, getting pointed and laughed at and maybe bag Tori in the process.

After suffering humiliation, envy, ire and humiliation it’s time for Matt to get aquatinted with another dreadful post-grad anxiety:

Getting a life…

Let me tell you a quick one. It’s not from my college days, don’t fret none. It’s a post-grad one, and after watching Tonight I initially gave great sympathy to Topher Grace’s character, Matt.

I took a part-time job at our local Suncoast Video at the mall for some semblance of an income. It was approaching the holidays, I love movies, they we hiring and I hated DIVX, which the manager declared we would never carry. It was a rip off. I agreed and signed on. Minimum wage here I come.

(Apropos of nothing that has to do with this installment, I recommend any twenty-something plus to take a job in retail. If only like for a few months. You will learn cruelty, embarrassment, courtesy and cynicism in mere weeks you were never exposed to over several years. The phrase “the customer is always right” is wrong. It is a mantra you hum to yourself so you don’t leap over the counter and brain some assh*le screaming at you for not having the Director’s Cut of Armageddon (including the matter his taste in action movies bite the big one). Your brain will melt. Your spine may fuse. You will fast learn to understand/despise Clerks. All fun and games and a kinda paycheck. Only Marine training is as severe.)

So yeah, at the outset of Tonight I figured Matt was the guy for me. Or so I thought. Movie sign!

I gotta say it out loud: Tonight has been done before and much better, or at least against movies with more meat on their bones. The whole “high school nerd has their coup de grace at the reunion, etc” is a fave comedy well to draw from from and has been a fairly reliable yukfest/pathos party movie device. Relatively recent offerings like Young Adult, I Love You Beth Cooper and to an extent Superbad were ranging from great to good to passable. There is this same theme, but those films had enough original meat to chew on. Like a fancy dish served with a different menu, as long as there’s consistency and character it oughta still be yummy.

Tonight, however is neither original, consistent nor possessing much character, cast included. To be blunt, Tonight was a shameless nostalgia flick. Unlike the spicy curry that was the unexpected fun of The Wedding Singer, Tonight reeks of the sour smell hanging after the meal. I understand it’s kinda funny I’m citing hack comedic actor Sandler’s best Hollywood outing as some grail, some high watermark as 80s nostalgia fest go, but it’s true here. Whereas Singer was very self-aware and in overdrive, something informed me that Tonight was trying way too hard to play catch-up. Or rather bait the audience.

I’ll try to keep this concise (try to), since the movie stole 2 hours from my meagre existence, I won’t inflict that same kind of a drain on your patience. The biggest trouble I had watching Tonight was that is hard to tell where we were going. Not exactly dragging, but just plain slow. Tonight worked by its own pace, irrespective of the audience’s attention. Walking through silly putty. We’re gonna get to a point somewhere. I guess I had been trained to watch flicks like this by the aforementioned Wedding Singer, American Graffiti, Dazed and Confused, etc for seeing the characters act in character according to the pop culture cues from the decade filmed (eg: Billy Idol’s [hilarious] cameo, Wolfman Jack’s infinite broadcasts and Aerosmith tickets, respectively). The world of Tonight, ostensibly set in the mid-to-late 80s comes over like the story could have happened anywhere at anytime. A choice soundtrack and period clothes alone does not a convincing, engaging period movie make. The story of Tonight could’ve taken place anywhere at any place in time. This is not good for a period piece: no period. Sure, the hairstyles and fashion are on the mark but it’s all artifice. It’s bait. It’s the kind of gimmick that nabs folks (well, like me) into a kind feeling of “been there, done that.” I’ve washed my car, but so did the nasty senior girls did in Dazed And Confused. You would not want to watch my YouTube feed of me scrubbing through Shammy Shine.

In sum, not an original period film. It also felt like director Dowse contracted a case of the Apatows. The flicks he writes, produces and/or directs are dappled with interesting characters. Ciphers maybe, but all jacked up on the Mountain Dew. His goofballs are given twists and actual personalities. Our leads are struggling against the script. Grace was having a really hard time endearing sympathy. Sure, his case was sad sack and his motivation towards redemption is a classic device (eg: getting the girl), but his performance is so plain and wooden…hell, color by numbers. He didn’t seem to be enjoying the role. I know his character was a beaten-down type, but this didn’t smell like method acting. Stank of boredom.

Who cast Dan Folger? Never mind and moving on…far, far away.

Our leads, Teresa and Topher maintain a simple chemistry. No dynamics. She is no pixie dream girl, just casual. But honestly, wouldn’t all guys rather have a kind girl than some prom queen? The unattainable is always the most desired. A given, and a crucial plot device for flicks such as this. But there is precious little tension here. Barry trying to score as the lothario he is is much more interesting (based on his f*cking up) as our noble leads reconciling romantic urges. Like I said, this could happen anywhere, anytime. I’m selling my Wang Chung LPs now I feel so cheated. And a lot of skin showing in the third act won’t make up for it. Nyah.

As sweet (believe it or not) as Tonight tries to be it never goes anywhere. Precious little tension and a confusing pace. I had no second to spare as to ask myself, “Where are we going here?” That being said Tonight was blah. And as “sweet” as this movie tried to be, romance and wine coolers and the sweet, sweet sounds of Soft Cell, as a period flick it never went anywhere.

I was trolled. Or as they say with the way-back translator, psych!

You’re welcome for that one, grown-up Gen X.

The Verdict…

Rent it or relent it? Relent it. Yawn. I got trolled by nostalgia for almost 2 hours. 2 hours! Gyp. Where’s my copy of Dazed And Confused?

Stray Observations…

  • Teresa Palmer: the budget Kristen Stewart (seriously, I thought it was Bella all along).
  • “They stole my youth.”
  • Huh. Tanning beds. Almost forgot about those.
  • “Test drive?”
  • I’ve played the penis game. As have you. Admit it.
  • Got a few “verbal sight gags” goin’ on here.
  • “I’m going to try this.”
  • Where’s the Eddie Money song.
  • “You’re gonna look great in an apron.” Ouch!
  • All right, that math scene was brilliant. Revenge of the nerd.
  • “Nice shades, as*hole!”
  • Dan Folger: the budget Jonah Hill. Offensive and yet not funny.
  • “It’s a great night for this, huh?”

Next Installment…

It’s one thing to pay off a ransom to a kidnapper. It’s another thing to search for any Proof Of Life.

 

RIORI Vol 3, Installment 36: Jody Hill’s “Observe And Report” (2009)

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The Players…

Seth Rogen, Anna Faris, Ray Liotta and Michael Peña, with Collette Wolfe, John Yuan, Matthew Yuan, Patton Oswalt, Jesse Plemmons and Aziz Ansari.

The Story…

“All the animals come out at night…”

Wait, that’s another story. It’s during the day when the freaks come out to terrorize shoppers at the Forest Ridge Mall. It’s up to bumbling mall cop Ronnie to keep the food court secure and free of vandals, flashers and thieves. He does the best he can, which ain’t too much. His misguided self-importance gets in the way of his duties a lot. That and the belief the hot chick at the make-up counter would ever give him the time of day.

But never mind that. Vandals, flashers and thieves have infiltrated Ronnie’s turf. This means war. And he’s not gonna let any legit cops get in the way of his righting right. By any means possible.

Including Hoverboards. The thieves might’ve gotten away on Hoverboards.

The Rant…

Let’s be perfectly clear on this matter: I’ve never believed in the Oxford comma.

Whew. Glad we got that out of the way. Onwards!

One of my fave films in my all-time, top ten is Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver (“You talkin’ to me?”). It’s a classic, even to people who’ve never even seen the dang thing, so saturated it’s become in our collective pop cultural landscape. But to be fair, for those who haven’t seen it (fools), here’s the premise: Travis Bickle is an antisocial, emotionally unstable cabbie who can’t relate with anyone. He gets it into his head that if he can complete a quixotic mission to rid the city of filth, he will become self-actualized. And get the unattainable girl. Something like that. There’s a lot of violence and violence, too. Well worth watching.

Taxi Driver was the ur-antihero movie. What I mean by that is there were plenty of films prior where the “hero” toed a very fine line within their role and how to reach their goals. Most of the time it was an “ends justify the means” kinda outlook. The antihero could be just as dangerous as the villians. Eastwood’s “Man With No Name” in the Dollars trilogy. Charles Bronson in the first Death Wish movie. Hell, even later on with Mad Max: The Road Warrior, it got kinda tricky to root for the home team where there was no place to lay one’s head as home. Please refer to your Metallica fake book for further answers.

In light of my 40 years on this planet, after watching 40,000 plus movies (give or take 39,000) I can’t immediately recall an antihero movie to be silly. So obviously goofy an execution that any audience would be hard-pressed to take the demented, clownish antihero seriously. Sure, there’s always been humor—albeit dark and perhaps unintentional—in these kind of movies. I cite The Road Warrior again: the marauders dressed like rejects from a combo cabaret/Wes Craven/bondage festival ravaging the Aussie Outback? Were they menacing because they were generally scary, or so over the top ludicrous you just had sit back, say, “It is what it is” and go with it? Maybe a bit of both. Still, not overtly silly.

Another good example (by my standards, which are very flexible don’cha know) of humor penetrating and otherwise gritty melodrama? Escape From New York. We know the film’s delivery is pretty honky tonk, which is unintentionally funny, but the only gag meant as a gag was the one-liner, “I thought you were dead.” The rest of the time is Kurt Russell shooting, stabbing and limping his way along the wastes of Manhattan. Not many giggles, few and far between. At least on purpose.

But wait, blogger! You forgot about antiheroes like Han Solo and even Frank Drebin from The Naked Gun series! They weren’t dark and dangerous! You forgot to floss too! Broccoli! Gross! Both that and their movies had plenty of humor! Huh? How’s that, huh? Who’s dead, Kent? Who’s dead?

Calm down. And it’s spinach, you dolts. And like I said unintentional humor. Han and Frank were  scruffy and incompetent, respectively. Not necessarily malicious or menacing like Clint, Max and Snake were. Within that context (and giving the raison d’être for this week’s debacle. Not the movie. Maybe this scribble. Pick and choose) this week’s installment examines an antihero in a lighter take of another antihero movie. Observe And Report is a comedy, never fear, but it’s also—

Wait, wait. Hang on. Y’know what? Let’s save that extended commentary for a little later on, post-apocalyptic Australian bikers at my ass be damned.

Fair dinkum…?

There’s something rotten at the Forest Ridge Mall, and it’s not the moldering crap in the China King’s dumpster. Well, it’s not just that.

Rent-a-cop Ronnie (Rogen) has sworn to protect his mall and its patrons at any cost. He might’ve sworn too much. No vermin is gonna invade his territory of pristine Orange Julius’, Sharper Images and even that annoying Saddamn (Ansari). No vagrants, no delinquents and no thieves allowed.

Oops on the last one.

Someone’s been knocking over store after store under Ronnie’s nose, clearing out thousands of dollars of merch in shoes, jewelry and George Forman grills. This don’t look good for Ronnie’s rep, nor his job security. The general manager figures he better call in the pros; a team of actual cops, headed by the irascible Detective Harrison (Liotta). And Harrison is not gonna let a loser mall cop with delusions of grandeur muck up his investigation. Things don’t look so hot for Ronnie.

But what does look hot to Ronnie? That babe Brandi (Faris) at the makeup counter. Too bad all his meager efforts fail to get her attention. She won’t go on a date with our schlumpy, mildly unhinged Ronnie. He gets it into his head that if can nab the perpetrators himself—maybe even become a cop in his own right—he could score with Brandi. Yeah, that’s the ticket.

Oops. What about that perv? Guy’s running around showing more c*ck than a henhouse.

Ronnie’s got a busy week ahead of him…

Here’s the painful truth about this week’s movie. Ready?

Observe And Report is Taxi Driver. For real.

*gasps from the peanut gallery, empty beer cans at the ready*

Hold on there. I am saying Report‘s a comedy. A rather bleak and dark comedy, but a funny film nonetheless. However it is Taxi Driver also. Consider the parallels:

Our hero is unhinged, socially awkward, racist and has delusions of grandeur of cleaning up the creeps that rove into his job. He’s obsessed with both the unattainable girl and stopping the criminals, both may serve a singular need. When all that falls through and he snaps, he ends up rescuing a wayward female and finds a feeling of worth and/or redemption. It’s all rather open-ended, however.

Now. Are we talking about Ronnie Barnhardt or Travis Bickle? Flip a coin.

More parallels in specific: Ronnie and Travis are obsessed with blondes named Brandi and Betsy, respectively who spurn them. Ronnie and Travis pop pills to keep their impulses in check (to no avail). Ronnie comes to the aid of Nell, an sweet-natured, injured girl who’s treated unfairly by her boss. Such is a la Taxi’s pimp Sport taking advantage of his naive charge Iris, played by a very young Jodie Foster  later reduced by Travis (BTW, “Nell” was the name of one of Foster’s movie roles. Just saying). More comparisons can be made.

Report‘s plot is virtually identical to Taxi. They’re two sides of the same coin, to be sure. And, no, Report is neither a rip-off nor outright plagiarism. I didn’t know if director Hill and his crew were paying homage or subconsciously channeling Travis. I’m not sure it was either, but the argument via comparisons can be made in the affirmative. The antihero vibe is there, as this movie is indeed an antihero movie. It’s a black comedy, too, but who says our lead can’t be demented and funny as well?

*”Where’s he going with this? I got a roast in the oven.”*

I’m saying we’re going back to the silly antihero theme, which is few and far between in movie land. Report is both madcap and dark, stupid funny and aggravating, off kilter and subtly disturbing. It’s like watching an ep of The Monkees minus the innocence and music and plus blue language, violence and waaay to many full frontal dick shots. Madcap. Even from the Coen-esque intro we know we’re in for a surreal and crass ride. Again, dick shots. It’s been said what audiences remember most about a film is the opening and the ending. Report‘s got your attention at the outset and sure does set the tone of the film, so be warned. Beyond this point there be dragons. And flashers.

This was the first Rogen vehicle that didn’t fair too well at the box office. The critics were pretty divided, also. Report fell quite comfortably into The Standard’s territory, which is weird. Since his ascent in Hollywood as the reliable buffoon, Rogen’s mostly done no wrong. Until now. Report was his first movie to lose money at the cineplex. Uh-oh. I think I know why. And it wasn’t for too much (wait for it) dicking around, either.

Ronnie is nuts. His is a sad case. It’s cringe-inducing to witness his conduct, his cluelessness, his about to snap. I’m thinking the guy’s core fan base (mostly frat boys I’d wager. Then again I was a frat boy back in the day. We only had Rob Schneider as an option, the poor man’s Sandler. Yes, I did write that) didn’t know what to make of their hero’s…antiheroics. Rogen the endless quip machine as assh*le. As nut job. As disturbing. Not the flavor in Columbus, despite it was some of the best actual acting the man has ever done. We’re supposed to like Ronnie, root for him. It’s not an easy task.

Actual acting. Rogen can’t act. Sorry to pop your bubble. It’s true. Oh sure, he’s funny, a one man Jerry Lewis movie tempered with the charm of the Three Stooges on a blind date with their cousins funny. But he only acts as Rogen, take it or leave it. If he’s not careful, his agent will doom him to being himself up to when the heart attack hits, maybe four more hits into his contract. Seemed to me that Rogen tried to stretch himself here in Report. Perhaps a bit too much for the mainstream media vultures. Um, fans. I meant fans. Smells like his fans didn’t go along for the ride with Ronnie. Not enough Paul Blart, I guess.

Which is too bad (not the missing Blart bit), because Rogen really did apply himself here. There was his usual histrionics, yes, and very much welcome by yours truly. But I also liked the creeping menace Ronnie was dragging behind him, not unlike—you guessed it—our favorite cabbie Travis. A good example of Ronnie blowing his cool in his usual slapdash manner is the scene where he comes to Nell’s “rescue,” which is redolent of the shootout in Taxi. Before Ronnie goes off pop, you can see him mulling over what to do next. It’s acting you seldom see Rogen do, and it was lost on the masses. A shame really.

I didn’t intend for this installment to pick apart Rogen’s performance, but already dropping Taxi Driver a million and a half times here it didn’t feel necessary to go into Report‘s finer details. All I can say about that is the film was good. A bit creaky at times, until you figure out where the whole thing is going, but still funny in the endgame. Also funny if you view the movie’s humor as a thickly disguised veneer covering the fact that our goofy, silly antihero character is crazy and willfully unaware of how dangerous he could be in different circumstances. Like becoming an actual cop. Shiver.

I know. Heavy sh*t for your almost run-of-the-mill Seth Rogen film. He ain’t gonna win any Oscars for his performance, and critical respect is but a parsec away, but it was kinda cool to see the guy act as well as be funny. Such things are possible in our impatient culture of gnat-like attention spans.

Rogen acts. Huh. Go figure.

*splat*

Hey! I just got pig sh*t on my shirt! And it fell from the sky!

Ah well, maybe a real rain will come down and wash the filth—

*incoming beer cans*

Whaddya want me to say?!? “That’ll do pig?”

Barbarians. Where’s my truncheon?

The Verdict:

Rent it or relent it? Rent it. It’s a cleverly disguised black comedy. Most folks didn’t get it. Doubts even here if they ever would. Just never confuse stupid with stupid. And that’s one to grow on.

Stray Observations…

  • Did Rogen actually gain  weight for this role?
  • “You’re just drunk, mom.”
  • “My dick is brown, you dumb motherf*cker!”
  • It sounds as if Morphine did the soundtrack. Amazing since their bass player has been dead for over a decade.
  • “Good luck with the crack.”
  • WE ACCEPT. Get it?
  • I once knew a guy who was so hard up to be a cop. He applied twice to the academy and tanked; lousy on admission, which is code for “unfit.” He also often spoke unfavorably about non-Whites. Wonders abound why he didn’t pass.
  • “I party like this only every four to six hours.”
  • The wifey loved this flick, “every inch of it.” I know this from being awakened by her cackles of joy against my Resperidone induced slumber. That’s how funny it was. Wish I was awake for the third act.
  • “Gotta get back to work.”

Next Installment…

Any responsible radio host must be mindful about what they say on the air. Robin Williams should be exceptionally careful. Who knows what The Night Listener hears when he tunes in to his show?