The Wolfman (2010)

(1) I have just finished watching The Wolfman and I’m considered contacting Consumer Direct – because I distinctly remember seeing Emily Blunt half-naked in the trailer (for a split second, looking over her bare shoulder, on her lips a half-smile pregnant with the promise of things to come).
Everyone knows that a director who permits partial nudity in a film trailer is contractually obliged to some full frontal nudity in the movie itself. Everyone, that is, but Joe Johnston who insists (for reasons best known to him) on keeping the lovely Ms Blunt (and everyone else, for that matter) fully clothed for the movie’s entire duration. What do they teach in film school these days?

(2) Even disregarding this betrayal, this was probably one of the worst movies I’ve seen in a while. Dull, dark and mind-numbingly predictable from about ten minutes into the proceedings all the way to its all-too-obvious conclusion. Usually productions of this sort are partially redeemed by some gratuitous violence or wanton sexuality (or by a gratuitously wanton display of violent sexuality) but Joe Johnston gives us nothing to make our pulses quicken or our hearts race. His creatures fail to terrify, the deaths fail to move us, the dismemberments leave one cold. One wonders how Johnson was able to cram so many A-listers into this turkey: Anthony Hopkins, Benicio del Toro, Hugo Weaving, Max von Sydow and the aforementioned Ms Blunt (she of the unfulfilled promise) – all of them limping, grunting and grimacing their way through this tedious disaster.

(3) One more reason to find this film annoying: Its insistence on remaining faithful to the standard themes of werewolf mythology without any attempt to express these in more modern terms. The wolfman transforms on nights of the full moon, no explanation required. Are we supposed to assume this is a gravitational effect or is the change triggered by some properties of moonlight itself? The (presumably) infected or, more likely, cursed wolfmen undergo the traditional transmogrification: growing taller, hairier and less articulate and flagrantly violating the Law of Conservation of Mass. Where does all that extra Wolfman bulk come from? Whither does it go? Some might argue that these are minor quibbles but I would contend that a public bombarded with these simply ridiculous conceits is far more likely to fall prey to the illogical in “real life”. The fable wedges the door open, alters folk science, and all the Really Bad Ideas rush in.

(4) I honestly cannot remember why I ever considered Benicio Del Toro worth watching. His character in this film is supposedly a famous stage actor but his listless delivery of some famous lines from Shakespeare leaves us with the impression that he would make the world’s worst Hamlet (assuming anyone were foolish enough to offer him the role). To make things worse, I found his murky accent distracting (and difficult to reconcile with his character’s history). My mind kept wandering and I couldn’t help feeling that something about his face reminded me of Terence Howard (an actor with a lot more personality and, apparently, considerably more talent)

[It appears the "unrated Director's Cut" is 16 minutes longer. Lot's of room there for redemption - and I might have to reserve final judgement on Del Toro until I've seen Soderbergh's Che.]

This is garbage. You actually like this?

(1) How arresting the title is: “Despicable me.” How similar to the words I say each morning to the scrawny guy in the bathroom mirror. “You’re despicable.” He laughs coquettishly and waves me away. “No, you are.”

(2) Do movies like this feed my inner child? I’m not so sure. For one thing he’s not so far beneath the surface and he’s more like a wizened little gremlin than a bona fide child.

(3) Isn’t it interesting how many of these movie characters bear names whose connotations are presumably lost on their primary target audience? How many children will appreciate that Gru is named after the Russian intelligence agency? Maybe more than I imagine.

(4) Haven’t seen this one yet, but I intend to when it comes out. Why? Maybe because I tend to find animated features reliably entertaining (especially when I’m able to skip over the boring bits). The broad narrative architecture usually disappoints but I almost always find the visual “texture” appealing. I also have a low threshold for humour – and this helps.

(5) Struck once again by how much trailers (and the expectations resulting from them) may be shaped by careful editing. As Keats wrote in 1818, “A perfect trailer is a joy forever, its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness . . .” Very few mainstream features are as exciting or as funny as their trailers (and conversely very few trailers for independent or “art-house” movies actually do them justice).

[Ok. The Hours doesn't have a "perfect trailer" - but it's still my favourite movie]

Daybreakers (2009)

A long time ago – and I can hardly remember it.

There were vampires. They triumphed – supervened over the human race like an infection until, inevitably, Man re-emerged from the shadows to reclaim his inheritance. Like a delayed immune reaction. Or something.

An interesting premise, I thought (this whole concept of restructuring society to suit the needs of quasi-human organisms averse to sunlight and thirsting for blood). Unfortunately, we all know what Hollywood does to interesting premises.

Daybreakers turned out to be just another cliche-ridden vampire movie (albeit one coated with a thin veneer of style) and after listening to a brainstorming session between two characters in Pedro Almodovar’s Broken Embraces I began to realise how unoriginal the Vampire ascendancy idea was in the first place.

Burn After Reading (2008)

(1) There is, I have to admit, a soft spot in my heart for pedants. Even for those individuals who allow their pedantry to bleed into casual conversation. Osbourne Cox points out to a guest at his dinner party who complains of being afflicted by “lactose reflux”: “You either have lactose intolerance or acid reflux”. And he was right, of course: There is no middle ground. About these things there can be no compromise.

(2) If I had an extended list of favourite actresses, it’s likely that Tilda Swinton would be on it. If this were a Disney production she would be a supremely intelligent reptile, the wicked witch, the evil stepmother always ready with an acerbic comment, all her cognitive gears clicking away with inexorable, unremitting malice.

(3) We do not know ourselves completely. We never do. The people around us listen to our earnest lies and self-justifying fables and think “How empty he is! How evident are his limitations!” (and often with justification) – but we are granted only limited access to these truths, only a limited degree of self-awareness.

(4) Because we find before us such a bewildering array of choices (as we tackle the project of self-creation) we often find ourselves overcome by the illusion of control. Each of us, the commercials tell us, can become the person we want to be. If we are not beautiful it is because we have failed to make ourselves so.

(5) The Coens live in my universe. Everyone is quirky. Our rationality, our field of clarity, is just a small clearing surrounded by the darkness of ignorance, stupidity and dysfunctional cognition. People lie next to each other in the gloom and speak at cross purposes. Nobody listens. Nobody understands.

(6) Brad Pitt emerges from a closet with an idiotic grin on his face and gets his brains blown out. I wonder how that works for the family. Graphic Cinematic Death. It must be hard to stop the image from playing over and over in your head, from intruding in your dreams. This is a possible conformation of Brad Pitt’s skull. This is a thing that could happen.

Not so FAQs

1.)  What speaks to your soul?
Pop music. Thankfully my soul is a bad listener.

2.)  What is your favorite time of day? Why?
Night. It reminds me that everything ends (and that in this lies consolation)
   
3.)  What do you obsess over?
My relative poverty. My absolute ignorance.

4.)  What could you never have too many of?
Empty pocket notebooks.
   
5.)  What is your favorite smell?
Half-burnt turkey (seriously)
   
6.)  What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
Being seated at a dinner table with garrulous relatives around me.
   
7.)  What’s playing on your stereo?
Don’t have a stereo but I’ve got “The Essential Leonard Cohen” playing in the background.
   
8.)  What is your most marked characteristic?
Unremitting pessimism. The tendency to (as the saying goes) “look around for a coffin when I smell flowers”.

9.)  What inspires you?
The thought that someday if I work hard enough, I could have my own private Romanian castle, my own little army of indentured servants to do my bidding.

10.) Can’t leave home without?
My personal digital assistant and an SD card full of magazine articles to read on the train.

11.) What is your idea of earthly happiness?
A quiet room with a locked door.

12.) To what weaknesses are you most indulgent?
Watching bad movies.

13.) What books are on your nightstand?
On the coffee table by the couch lies Germaine Greer’s “The Whole Woman”, sullen and unread. On the surrounding carpet, in artless piles, books I do not recognise and cannot remember buying.

14.)  What is your favorite virtue?
Self-righteousness (it’s a virtue where I come from)
   
15.)  A famous writer said that you should always be in search of something-an object, a raincoat, anything. What do you find yourself in search of most often?
The TV remote.

16.)  What is your principle defect?
A persistent failure to empathise, to fraternise, to smile when socially appropriate.
   
17.) What do you value most in your friends?
Their nonexistence.

18.) Who is are your favorite artists?
I have no favourites. I wish I did.

19.) What quality do you most admire in a man?
Cultural literacy

20.) What quality do you most admire in a woman?
Immoderate wit and intelligence.

21.) Top six places in the world you would like to visit?
Rome, Reykjavik, Tokyo, Beijing, Bombay and New York (but not in that order)

22.) Michael Crichton said in his book Travels, that at thirty-something he had already accomplished everything he had ever dreamed of and more. Do you feel like that you have accomplished all you have dreamed about or do you feel like you have much more to accomplish? Where do you feel you are on the your path?
I lost the path in the darkness of Youth and wandered off into the wilderness. Now, warm by a campfire and several hundred miles from civilisation, I have forgotten that a path even exists.

23.)  What are your top three dreams of accomplishing/becoming?
To write a book that many will buy, no one will read, and everyone will praise.
To build my own Fortress of Solitude and live the rest of my days within it with my broadband internet connection and yearning heart.
To join the Conversation, in my own time and on my own terms.

24.)  What is your guilty pleasure?
Trawling through Amazon.com in the wee hours of the morning ordering books I never get round to reading.
   
25.)  Do you play it safe or take chances more often?
Play it safe. Walking on the wild side has never appealed to me

26.) Do you make your bed everyday?
I sleep on a couch (and have been doing so for a few months now). I am not a bed-making person.

27.) What are you seeking?
I seek a way out of the maze, a warm patch in a cold world, at a distance from those who have come to know me.

28.) Most unforgettable experience?
I am told I almost died once- but details of this incident escape me. I am, you see, incredibly skilled at forgetting.

29.) How often do you search for freshness and inspiration?
When I feel compelled to: When the greyness becomes overwhelming.

30.) Favorite item of clothing?
My brown military jacket – slightly worn, reasonably comfortable, and inexplicably reassuring.

31.) What is your greatest fear?
I have for so long pretended not to see, and fear that I will wake up one morning and discover I am blind.

32.) What is your favorite journey?
The walk home from the Tube Station. Shutting the door and feeling the rest of the world recede.

33.) On what occasions do you lie?
When I see no compelling reason to tell the truth. Frequently.

34.) What is your greatest regret?
That I failed to put the energies of youth to good use.

35.) How do you tell time?
By the digital clock in the corner of my Windows desktop.

36.) What is it that you most dislike?
Myself, in the mirror. The person I have become.

37.) What is your motto?
Onward, through the fog.