It's Kind of a Funny Story - Anna Boden & Ryan Fleck (2010)

Here’s the the movie review where I finally come out as a mentally ill American.

Yep, I'm on four different eveners and I'm still just as loony as can be.

And that’s why “It’s Kind of a Funny Story” just meant the world to me.

I have no idea if all the “norms” out there will find it just as wonderful as I did, but this film simply got it perfectly.And that was no easy task. If it had strayed just a hair to one side, it would have ventured into the side of melodrama.

Had it gone of the path in the other direction, the characters would have been characters and “It’s Kind of a Funny Story” would have been just another wacky comedy about a bunch of loonies.

But this porridge is just right.

And here’s why. Anna Boden & Ryan Fleck understand, like very few filmmakers I’ve come across before, that people who are completely effed up beyond belief can have as great a capacity for strength, empathy and compassion as anyone else.

In fact, their dysfunctions usually make them better people for others to lean on.
That was Boden and Fleck’s theme in “Half-Nelson” and “Sugar,” two dramas that explored this notion darkly, and it’s what they’re trying to tell us here. Only this time, these filmmakers are showing us they can be warm as well as dark.

I’m not going to waste a whole lot of time going through the plot. You’ve seen the trailers by now.

For that matter, a lot of you have probably seen the film.

So, I’ll do just a quick rundown, because that’s how you do things in a proper review.

Craig is 16 and suicidal. He bypasses the bridge he was thinking of jumping from and instead goes to the hospital to get help.

He is admitted and put into the adult psychiatric ward because the teen ward is under renovations.He befriends Bobby, a guy who is hesitant to open up and tell Craig what his problems are, and is instantly attracted to Noël, another teen stuck in the adult wing.

And the rest of the movie is how they all relate and heal, and if I talked about the plot more, it would just sound mundane and it’s anything but so I’ll stop.
The plot really isn’t the point.

The film’s greatest strength is the way it refuses to condescend to its characters, even the ones on the peripheral who are the most troubled.

In the hands of someone else, these characters would have been thrown under the bus in the name of comedy. I shudder to think what Christopher Guest would have made out of this script.

The patients are used for laughs here, but never cheap laughs.

One of my favorite moments in this film is very muted and understated.

It doesn’t have a huge punch line or great catchphrase, so naturally it isn’t featured in any of the trailers and if you’re not mentally ill or have never been suicidal, it probably won’t stand out to you when you see “It’s Kind of a Funny Story.”



It happens when Craig is talking to Noël, she asks him about how he wants to kill himself, but didn’t actually end up trying.
He manages to stammer out a couple of sentences and explains himself terribly. Then he looks up at her and says, “Does that make any sense?”
And she says, “Yeah.”

That tiny moment, that short back and forth captures how those of us who are fundamentally just broken human beings understand each other so well and need each other so desperately.

Noël is a fascinating character precisely because we’re not told much about her.

We don’t know why she’s there will all the people who “need help.”



She has scars on her face and wrist and casually mentions cutting herself at one point, but apart from the fact that she loves music and seems to be exceptionally kind, she’s a mystery.

And Emma Roberts plays Noël flawlessly.

The rest of the film follows suit, with the greatest moments being the smallest ones.
Sure the funny moments you saw in the previews are entertaining, but the greatness of the film is revealed slowly in the quiet friendships that develop between these broken people.

And that’s another thing Boden and Fleck understand.

People who don’t suffer from mental illness mean well and they can help.

But this film is just achingly beautiful because it illustrates that those of us who are broken are drawn to each other.And that’s because we understand and we need the sympathy that can only come from someone who feels that illogical crazy things we do.
That’s the essence of our healing. Knowing we’re not alone.

Saying something that shouldn’t make sense to anybody at all and having someone who is just as lost as you are look at you and say, “I understand.”

And the ending of “It’s Kind of a Funny Story” is perfect.

Craig rides away on his bike. And forget about one day at a time. Boden & Fleck know that there are a lot of us that have to take it one breath at a time.

Craig takes those deep breaths, the kind we have to take to stave off panic attacks and the movie ends.



And watching this movie, all us crazies, all of us broken people understood that other people know how this feels.

And would you look at that, some of them are making movies.

I have not cried in 26 years, but if I were emotionally capable of tears, I would have wept right there in my seat.




If you have issues, go see this movie.



If you love someone with issues, go see this movie.

It’s wonderful.


And here’s my video review.

Hereafter – Clint Eastwood (2010)

Wen I was heading into the advance screening of “Hereafter,” I overheard several people who had already screened it say the film was depressing.

Now that I’ve seen the film, I have to say anyone who found it gloomy probably just didn’t get it.

Clint Eastwood isn’t a filmmaker who shies away from death and “Hereafter” opens with a sequence that kicks you right in the face.

What’s disquieting about the scene isn’t its realism.

It’s how we follow Maria, a French journalist, played by “High Tension’s” Cecile de France, from the moment she realizes she’s in danger right up to her death.

As audiences, we’re used to seeing the carnage from a survivor’s point of view.

We watch other people go down, sometimes in horrific ways, with casual indifference.

As someone who unabashedly loves screen violence, I was surprised at how disturbed I was seeing this woman die.

We’re not used to seeing death from the victim’s point of view and this scene starts “Hereafter” on just the right note for Eastwood to ask his viewers to think very seriously about death.

When we experience death through the eyes of this woman, we know this isn’t going to be a thriller.

This film is going to be a meditation on the very nature of mortality and Eastwood takes the theme on just as seriously as he did with “Million Dollar Baby” and “Unforgiven.”

In the hands of a less capable storyteller, “Hereafter” might have been a contrived film. When I heard about the plot, it didn’t sound like something that would normally draw me in.

But after “Mystic River,” “Million Dollar Baby” and “Unforgiven,” Clint Eastwood is a filmmaker who has earned my trust. I am more than willing to put myself in his hands and just let him tell his story.

“Hereafter” centers around three people, all dealing with their brushes with death or grief in different ways.

First, there’s the story of Marie, the French journalist who died in the Tsunami and then came back to life, after seeing what lies after death.

She’s burning to tell the world what she’s seen and explore, as a writer, the scientific community’s studies on the subject of life after death.

Of course, this doesn’t do wonders for her career.

Then, there’s Marcus, a little boy in London. He’s the child of a junkie who’s lost his twin brother in an accident and is desperate to reconnect with him.

He runs into all sorts of charlatans in a sadly funny sequence. We want to laugh at how ridiculous these people are, but then we see the disappointment on this kid’s face when they turn out to be frauds.

There’s one scene where Marcus goes into a group reading where a woman is on stage doing the John Edwards tricks. She goes across the crowd saying things like, “I’m feeling that someone here has lost someone,” and “I’m sensing a name that starts with ‘J.’”

This is a perfect juxtaposition to George, a rare psychic played by Matt Damon who actually is the real deal. We see this at the beginning of the film when he gives a reading to one of his brother’s clients as a favor.

George doesn’t mess around with any of this, “I’m sensing some vague who-the-hell-can-guess-what.” He knows exactly who he’s talking to and he hears them clearly.

Unfortunately, this ability is a burden. When George meets Melanie, a lovely young woman at a cooking class, played by Bryce Dallas Howard, there is instant chemistry between them.

Then, she finds out he has this gift and she asks him to do a reading. He all but begs her to let him off the hook, assuring her that once that happens, the chances their relationship will go anywhere will go down significantly.

Of course, she doesn’t listen and he gives in.

And we’re not surprised to see that she doesn’t show up the next week for cooking class.

Clint Eastwood takes his time telling each story and treats each character with the care they deserve. When the paths of these three finally intersect, it doesn’t feel forced or artificial.

“Hereafter” has been marketed as a thriller, but it’s not.

It is an extremely gentle, if sometimes unsettling drama and it stands up with “Million Dollar Baby” and “Unforgiven” as Eastwood once again asks his audience to look death right in the face.

Because it’s being marketed as a genre picture, “Hereafter” will probably join “Gran Torino” as one of his recent films totally shut out as far as Oscar nods go and that’s a shame.

Just go see it.

Never Let Me Go - Mark Romanek (2010)

When life hands you a delightful surprise, sometimes you just say, "Thank you," and move on.



Like Franz Kafka's "Metamorphosis," Katsuo Ishiguro's "Never Let Me Go" might be an un-filmable novel, but hell if Romanek's adaptation isn't ambitious.

I'll just say it flat out. I adored this movie.

And my hopes were not high.

I worship this novel and I have to say, "One Hour Photo" was just an awful film.

I mean just terrible. It was a caricature of a psychological thriller.

I really thought Romanek was just a moron. Seriously.And "Never Let Me Go" is easily one of the greatest novels of the past decade.

So I braced myself for disappointment.

But oh my God, what a wonderful film.

It is so elegant.

I know that sounds pretentious, but I can't think of a better word.

Now if we could just get David Cronenberg to go ahead make his version of "The Metamorphosis," the universe will be whole.

Here's my video review.

Machete – Robert Rodriguez (2010)

First, to be polite, there are spoilers.

Second, also to be polite, this is the ultimate exploitation movie, so if you're going to keep reading this review, you're going to hear about violence. Lots of great, fun violence.

Unrealistic and cartoonish violence and fun are the point here. But it’s a point of etiquette, so fair warning. Spoilers.

I don’t think I was even two minutes into this movie before I had a blood-lusting, impossibly wide grin across my face.

Danny Trejo’s bad ass was out of that car, hacking away at bad guys, bodyguards, bystanders, doesn’t matter, with his gigantic knife in no time flat.

Then he picks up a severed hand with a gun still in it and starts blasting.

I know I’m going to enjoy myself.

And sure enough, in the next ninety seconds, we’re treated to four beheadings in one swoop and some unbelievably unnecessary nudity.

Of course, he finds an unbelievably hot girl in a room laying naked on a bed.

I guess he just figures he’ll rescue her, so he takes her along.

Then, she gets all seductive and before you know it, she has his knife.

She stabs him and he falls to the ground and she stands over him, unnecessarily naked.

Then, she pulls a cell phone out of her twat.

Yep, you heard me right. A cell phone out of her twat.

It's not that seeing a girl pull a cell phone out of her twat is such a treat as it's the principle that the movie is just that wonderfully and giddily ridiculous.

Hell, I loved “Planet Terror,” as much as anyone else, but this is exploitation done good and proper.

The hero and the villain are set up before the credits roll.

Steven Seagal is a relentless drug lord who kills poor Machete’s wife and daughter, torches a building and leaves our wounded, helpless hero to die in the flames.

But, like all dumb movie villains, he doesn’t stick around to make sure his nemesis is dead, so…roll the opening credits and yippee! We’re off!

We take a trip to the U.S. Mexico border where Robert De Niro in a cowboy hat is riding in the back of a pickup truck, shooting Mexicans crossing the border. And he’s a Texas Senator!

Holy Christ, now we’re going into unnecessary lefty overblown, not believable, political preachy-land! I’m in heaven!

The plot is more or less incidental. Machete finds himself the fall guy of a plot to frame a nameless illegal for the attempted assassination of the good Senator to garner sympathy votes.

But when you double-cross Machete, you pay the price. And the mayhem continues.

Rodriguez knows how to use foreshadowing, too. He’ll set you up and let you know a treat is coming.

At one point, Machete’s in the hospital and the bad guys are coming for him.

He picks something up and the doctor just looks at him and says, “Be careful with that. It’s a skull scraper. We use it to scoop the bones clean. Uh, and those cut through flesh just like butter.”
Then Machete tears the ribbon off a nurse’s gown and gets ready.

Are you kidding me? Machete is just grabbing things to do as much damage as possible to people and ripping girls' clothes off for no apparent reason.

Robert, you're not even trying to find an excuse to give us blood and tits, are you?

I love you, man!

Rodriguez just knows how to set up his audience for a good time.

He set us up for something big and he delivered.

And do you think Rodriguez would have the doctor casually talking about how long a person’s intestines were if he didn’t intend to have Machete gut a bad guy and swing out the window from his innards?

No, but he did it because it's just good, clean fun.

The rest of the movie introduces us to side characters, mostly hot Latino chicks.

We know how the rest of the movie is gonna go and we don’t care what the plot is

formulaic. It’s all about the blood, man.

And “Machete” has it in buckets.

And just because I’m lazy, here’s just a random list of things that we are treated to in no particular order.

Tom Savini nailing Cheech to a cross.

Cheesy political statements from Jessica Alba like, “We didn’t cross the border! The border crossed us!”

Machete banging the bad guy’s wife and daughter, (played by Lindsay shut-up-judge-I’ll- snort-whatever-I-want Lohan herself.)

Steven Seagal committing seppuku. (Well, kind of. I don’t want to spoil it. Like I said, story, outcome all that, does not matter.)

Danny Trejo has been relegated to the world of colorful Mexican supporting character for so long that I kind of wondered if he could carry a leading role.

HE CAN. Trejo is rock and roll personified in this movie.

Forget every action hero ever.

From Lee Marvin, all the way up through Clive Owen.

I have never wanted to be anybody like I want to be this fifty-something Mexican.

I hereby declare Danny Trejo to be the baddest mofo on this, or either side, of the border.

Go see this movie.

Wild Target – Jonathan Lynn (2010)

When “Wild Target” opens up, we get an immediate feel for the film’s tone. The first scene is quick, well timed and very funny. Bill Nighy’s stuffy hit man walks into a hotel, we hear a man yell and fall to his death and the professional killer walks right back out, ready to get on with his day.

Okay, that is one unrealistically fast elevator, but mission accomplished. The comic timing of the scene is perfect and the first act of the film follows suit.

As a director, Jonathan Lynn is kind of hit or miss. His films seem to sink or swim depending on the strength of his material and his actors. That’s how he can turn out a film like “My Cousin Vinny” and then turn right around and crank out terrible movies like 1997’s wildly unfunny “Trial and Error” & the abysmal update of “Sgt. Bilko.”

Hell, even “Vinny,” which I think we can all agree is his best effort, is pretty uneven when you go back and watch it. It’s a solid comedy that could have easily been a classic farce in the hands of someone like Frank Oz, who would’ve been wise enough at least to have lightened up bits of it and trimmed off a good 15 minutes or so.

But I digress. (Hey, look, there’s a little mini-review of “My Cousin Vinny.” Okay, I’ll check that movie off my list of films to review.)

Let’s get back to “Wild Target.” I re-watched “Death at a Funeral” a couple of weeks ago, (the original, I still haven’t seen the American version) and I was in awe of Frank Oz’ timing. (Maybe that’s why I’ve mentioned him twice already.) I really think “Wild Target” had the potential to be something really special with a focused rewrite and a good director.

Thankfully, Lynn has the good sense to keep the film down around the 90-minute range and the script is paced reasonably well. And don’t get me wrong, Lynn is a good director. Just don’t expect anything he heads up to be great.

Bill Nighy is perfectly cast as a 54-year-old hit man, a lonely killing machine, who has no personal life except a bloodthirsty mother in a nursing home. As the film set up its premise and its characters, it filled me with hope.

The first couple hits have a dark hilarity, including a bit with a parrot who cleverly talks Nighy out of killing him.

And the introduction of Nighy’s mother, the lady who raised the straight-laced murderer and matriarch of the small killing-for-hire business is just a wonderful scene. The chemistry Nighy has with Eileen Atkins (best remembered from John Schlesinger’s overlooked 1995 charmer, “Cold Comfort Farm”) is wonderful.

Their casual, easy exchange is funny and chilling at the same time. Her gift of a scrapbook filled with the headlines of all of his hits, starting with his very first on page one with the gleaming headline, “Girl Garroted in Local Cinema.” And, as she tells him, as if he needed reminding, “Plenty of blank pages at the end, too.”

Of course, he has a gift for her, too. The parrot he let live. He needn’t have bothered let show the bird mercy. The woman’s locked up in a retirement home and she has to kill something. Or maybe that was his gift to her.

Some of the best scenes are when the old woman pops up, maniacally intent on killing someone, anyone.

The introduction to Emily Blunt and Rupert Grint’s characters are fantastic as well. Blunt rides through London on her bicycle like she hasn’t a care in the world, completely disregarding the convenience and safety of anyone else on the road. Of course this attitude toward the world in general predictably gets her into trouble.

Sadly, after her introduction, once the plot kicks in, her character settles into a vehicle to push the plot forward.

As for Grint’s Tony, we first meet him when he’s toking up in a parking garage when this whole world of hit men and thieves and unwitting victims explodes in front of him. He springs to action and Nighy finds the boy has the natural instincts and reflexes to be of some use.

And Grint is hilarious as Tony, who is amazed every single time he manages to perform some sort of unbelievable feat without even meaning to. There’s a scene, well into the second act when one of the thugs who’s after our trio is drowning a vulnerable and naked Rupert Grint in the bathtub and, before we can blink, Grint’s Tony has snatched the bad guy’s gun, jumped out of the tub and shoved the no-good-nick into his bath.

It happens so fast even Grint doesn’t even realize at first he’s suddenly got the upper hand.

The problem with Nighy’s idea of making Tony his apprentice is that while Tony has the reflexes and eerie natural skills, he has a conscience. Grint’s Tony is never going to be the kind of man who can kill strangers without remorse.

Even when he accidentally shoots off the ear of a bad guy in self defense, he’s hysterically apologetic. As he’s trying to get away with Nighy and Blunt, he keeps slowing down to explain to the guy chasing him that if he gets his ear on ice soon enough, he’ll be able to get it put back on at the hospital.

He stops to make this point three or four times.

Grint is hilarious.

As much as I’m sad to see one of the great franchises, Harry Potter (with the exception of the first two films, which sucked, rot in hell, Chris Columbus) come to a close, it’s really nice to see Rupert Grint free to work on other projects.

I watched “Cherrybomb” recently and Grint was surprisingly funny, intelligent and deep as the British answer to Michael Cera or Jason Biggs, but with just a bit more going on upstairs.

By the way, expect a review of “Cherrybomb” soon.

Unfortunately, as is often the case with farces that start with promise, once we’ve settled into the plot, the darkly funny moments become fewer and the film becomes a means to get to the end of the story.

There are sparks of brilliance, but they get rarer as the film drags on. And at a 90 minute run time, drag is not a flattering term.

It’s such a shame because the film showed so much potential. I’ve raved on about how much I loved the first half hour of the film for about three times as long I normally go for an entire review.

But once “Wild Target” settles into its formulaic plot, we’re just kind of sitting there waiting for the movie to end.

Nighy switches roles and acts as the girls bodyguard, going on the run with her and Grint while being tracked down by a different hit man hired to finish the job Nighy failed to carry out.

Don’t get me wrong.

There are brilliant moments scattered throughout, including a visit to the safe house from Nighy’s psychotic mother who somehow managed to escape from the retirement community long enough to come on out to the hideout and make a valiant effort at a good old-fashioned, fun-loving murder spree.
Nighy remarks that Dixon, the hit man hired to replace him and take the lot of them out is a “disgrace to the profession.” Unfortunately, Dixon-the-hit-man’s entrance is a disgrace to the film. Where Nighy’s killings and even unfortunate mistakes are darkly comic, Dixon’s are just dark, without a laugh or a jolt.

Even at Nighy’s hit/romantic leading man’s most nihilistic moments, he makes us chuckle. At one point, he follows his target through a crowd to a changing room and fires through the door. We hear a yelp and a thump as a body falls to the ground and, wouldn’t you know it, he looks over and sees his intended target walking off somewhere else. And that’s a hard day for whoever had the bad luck of changing clothes there that day.

But Nighy doesn’t give that a second thought and we really don’t either because it’s played out as a darkly light moment. Hell, it’s funny.

Dixon’s character is sadistic, uncharismatic, boring and sticks out of the film like a sore thumb. He’s both written and acted poorly and this movie deserved a better villain.

Like Nighy’s mother.

But for all its faults, it’s worth the 90 minutes, if not the 10 bucks and the extra drive you’ll most likely have to take to your town’s art house since “Wild Target” probably won’t be getting a wide release here in the U.S.

If nothing else, you’ll see the wonderful comedic potential Rupert Grint has when at last Ron Weasley is behind him.

Ne te retourne pas (Don’t Look Back) – Marina de Van (2009)

When I started watching this film, I had no idea what it was going to be about.

To tell the truth, I have a soft spot for French films, for some reason.

I have no idea what it is about that country, but their movies make sense to me.

Truffaut, Leconte, Alain Resnais, Gela Babluani, Alexandre Bustillo, Gaspar Noe, I love 'em all.

French films are beautiful and horrific. They move, inspire and scare the Christ out of me all at the same time.

"Ne te retourne pas" is no exception. It does all of those things at once and it does them very slowly and subtly.

Aside from that, I had seen de Van’s 2002 freak-fest “Dans ma Peau” (In My Skin) and to this day, I’m the only person I have met in real life who liked it.

And who doesn’t want to spend 100 minutes or so watching Sophie Marceau? (Well, as it turns out, the better part of half that time, anyway.)

I vaguely had the idea that it was going to be some kind of thriller.

So imagine my delight and surprise when I found myself completely lost and confused as hell about 12 or 13 minutes into the movie.

The film centers around Jeanne, a French trade writer who finally wants to write fiction, specifically autobiographical fiction.

The problem is, she can’t remember anything before she was 8-years-old.

The other problem is that while her work as a professional writer is exceptional, her first attempt at fiction is terrible.

It’s tepid, self-aware, disassociated, overly-descriptive and trite.

Of course this is because memories of childhood are more than just facts told to Jeanne by her mother. The novel is cold because Jeanne never felt, touched or tasted a childhood. Poor Jeanne.

Before long, Jeanne’s mind starts playing tricks on her. Or is her family just messing with her?

Little things start to seem out of place, like the kitchen table, and s

he catches her husband and children ges

turing ominously to each other, exchanging conspiratorial hand signals.

Of course, at this point, we, the audience have no idea what's going on, but that’s okay

because neither do any of the characte

rs. Is Jeanne going crazy? Is it a brain tumor or a legion?

Is it Satan?

Actually, there’s nothing that suggests anything supernatural, but whenever there are endless, baseless theories as to what’s happening in a movie, I always like to throw Satan into the mix.

Before long, Jeanne’s loving husband is actually changing into another man and then Jeanne finds herself morphing.

The scene where we first see her with half of her own face and half of a new face surprised me by how effectively creepy it was.

It’s impressive how we’re about half an hour into the film and we have no reason to be frightened, but for some reason, I’m finding myself with a severe case of the willies.

Again, we still have absolutely no idea what is going on. And that's a very good thing because none of the characters do, either.

The rest of the film plays out with Jeanne’s mind swapping out her perception of realities to the point where her husband, mother, children and herself are different people.

Jeanne goes on a journey to find who her ‘true’ mother, self, husband, and her whole reality actually is.

By the time we get to the 'twist ending' which I won't give away just on the principle of not spoiling films, the plot is no longer the point. This isn't a film where the story matters.

The chain of events is incidental. What’s important is Jeanne’s broken mind.

Toward the beginning of the film, there’s a scene that shows her mother playing poker in an apartment with a handful of friends around a small table.

Later, when Jeanne visits her mother, she’s playing poker in an enormous, elegant penthouse, filled with affluent gamers, security guards and high stakes.

When Jeanne’s reality is altered, it’s disturbing, especially when the change is subtle.

For me, the most jolting moments were toward the building when she would catch her husband and children exchanging those subtle hand signals out of the corner of her eye or in a reflection or on a home video.

Of course, they had no idea what she was talking about and watching the film, I believed them.

They were truly her loving family and meant her no harm.

I was just as lost as Jeanne was and that was what made the film so psychologically gruesome.

Because Christ, do any of us really have any kind of grasp on anything?

Watch this movie. Buy this movie. It’s a masterpiece.

Along with John Hillcoat’s adaptation of “The Road,” this is the second film to make me realize I put out my top 10 of 2009 too soon.

I need to wait like a year before doing those.

And, in case any of you care, right now, I'm listening to: