This review originally appeared on the San Francisco Appeal.
“The Adjustment Bureau,” loosely based on a short story by Phillip K. Dick, is a strange movie; a blend of romantic comedy conventions, science fiction set-ups, fairy tale cliches, and metaphysical phooey that, ultimately, works in its own little way.
Matt Damon stars as David Norris, an up-and-coming politician running for New York senator. On the eve of the election, the newspapers pick up on evidence of an impulsive immaturity in his recent past, and he tanks at the polls. That same evening, he meets-cute with Elise (Emily Blunt), a ballet dancer with whom he has an immediate and mutual attraction, though she pulls a Cinderella, disappearing without giving him a last name, or a phone number.
Almost a year later, he is rising from the ashes of his political loss when he meets Elise once again. It is around this time that the dandy men in hats who have been hovering around David reveal their true purpose, and the film’s sci-fi set-up: Mankind’s lives are, for the most part, a series of carefully planned events, overseen by Adjustment Agents whose boss is known only as “The Chairman.”
Yes, God is a company CEO, and angels are mad men flipping through moleskin notebooks.
David has, through no fault of his own, strayed from the path set out for him, and this needs to be rectified or else he, Elise, and by implication, the entire world will suffer dire consequences. Should he follow his heart or his fate?
Yes, all of this sounds rather hokey, and the “science” in this fiction is relegated to magic hats and doors. But Damon–who is as affable and funny here as he tends to be on the talk show circuit–and Blunt–who has a natural humor herself–keep the film afloat. There’s no doubt their characters are meant to be together, and they even manage to completely sell the most trite of fairy tale tropes: the magical kiss.
There are not a lot of explosions or showstopping CG effects in the film, and the ads and trailer make it seem a lot more…exciting than it actually is. But that’s not a bad thing. First time director George Nolfi, (he previously wrote “The Bourne Ultimatum” and “Ocean’s Twelve”), seems more interested in character than spectacle, and has cast the film well across the board: “Mad Men”‘s John Slattery plays an adjustment agent not too far from his Roger Sterling character, and Terence Stamp is suitably menacing as a kind of “cleaner” agent. Even Jon Stewart and James Carville make cameos. Be sure, there are moments of genuine suspense and awe to be found in the movie, but this is not this year’s “Inception,” and thank God–or the Chairman–for that.
First off, let me try and clear up just what the movie "Hall Pass" is, since a friend and I were having some difficulties with that before the film began. It doesn't star Vince Vaughn. Or Adam Sandler. Judd Apatow has nothing to do with it. One thing we weren't sure about was whether Ed Helms was in it, but once it started we realized the Ed Helms part was being played by Jason Sudeikis. (Bro movies have officially passed chick flicks in terms of Hollywood saturation.)
"Hall Pass" is the latest film from the Farrelly brothers. Some might call it a return to form since their last few films ("Fever Pitch" and "The Heartbreak Kid") were relatively gross-out free. I suppose that's true. But it certainly isn't a return to form in terms of funny.
Owen Wilson stars as Rick, husband and father of three kids with wife Maggie (Jenna Fischer). He's got a wandering eye. So does his best friend Fred (Sudeikis), despite a child-free marriage to Grace (Christina Applegate). It is presented that the guys want more sex than their wives are willing to provide, and the wives, fearing a growing resentment in their husbands, take a friend's advice (said friend is played by Joy Behar, and the less said about her performance, the better) to give their guys a one-week break from marriage, the titular "hall pass." (The title is presented about 50 times within the course of the movie, thus reinforcing the fact that this is not an actual thing that exists but merely a movie creation.)
That the husbands are not knee-deep in tail over the course of their week of freedom is the platform for the film's comedy. That the wives actually are is the platform for the film's pathos. Both crumble. The Farrellys built their brand on comedy that is filled with scatological humor, borderline homophobia and its requisite dick jokes, political incorrectness, and all around shock comedy. And at one point, that stuff actually worked. But in "Hall Pass" it just hangs there like a giant limp dick. (Literally: that is one of the film's "biggest" jokes, and for some it is apparently enough to elicit rollicking laughter GUY SITTING IN THE SAME ROW AS ME.)
That the movie falters in ways other than comedy is probably beside the point, but it should be noted that its female characters are mere sketches; everyone in the movie has the same weird, fake tan orange glow; and one of the only laughs I can remember having was at how bad the Photoshopping was during a scene featuring a photo album.
Back in 1998 I went to see "There's Something About Mary" during its opening weekend. The film had rave reviews, and it was a packed house. I was with a bunch of friends, most of them guys, and we were all laughing, a lot, pretty much from the very start of the movie. Well, almost all of us. About 20 minutes into the film my friend Oliver just got up, walked out of the theater and never came back. He met us all in the lobby after it was over and we found out he had spent the remainder of the film's running time sitting outside on the curb, reading the paper.
At the time, I just couldn't understand how he, or anyone, wouldn't think the movie was absolutely hilarious. But in watching "Hall Pass" I finally understood what my friend Oliver must have felt back in 1998: annoyed, incredulous, and, ultimately, a little sad.
Lady Gaga has been such a pervasive pop culture presence of late that it's hard to believe that a mere two years ago, not many people had even heard of her. Just over a year ago, she was playing clubs like Mezzanine here in San Francisco. Eight months later, she was headlining the Bill Graham Auditorium, and now, nine months after that, she's invaded the HP Pavilion in San Jose. Is that the definition of a meteoric rise?
I didn't get on the Lady Gaga bandwagon until mid-2009, which I regret, because man, I would have to loved to have seen her in a club setting. I had to make due with the Bill Graham Auditorium show, which was the beginning of her current Monster Ball tour. She was originally going to begin a tour with Kanye West in 2009, but after his VMA Awards speechus interruptus, that tour was canceled, and she decided to go it solo, and the Monster Ball was born. But after seeing her S.F. stop, I got the feeling that the show, impressive as it was, was kind of slapped together, and probably designed with a shorter set-list in mind.
Needless to say, the tour as I saw it Monday night is bigger. Much bigger. Bigger sets; bigger costumes (of course!); and a bigger crowd. Madonna set the bar way back when with her Blonde Ambition tour, and pop stars have been reaching for that ever since. Amongst all the smoke and mirrors, the Monster Ball has a story to tell, and as infuriatingly literal as that story sometimes is, I will always appreciate Gaga's attempts to top herself.
Some of the only holdovers from the tour's earlier leg were the video montages, projected onto a giant screen that encircled the stage at the show's opening, and during longer costume and set changes. Gaga knows how to work the crowd into a frenzy, and the show slowly built its opening, as slo-mo black and white scenes of her twirling, and getting slapped, made way for the first number "Dance in the Dark," with the first half of the song sung behind the curtain, revealing her posing silhouette. By the time the curtain lifted, the crowd was on its feet, screaming along to the song.
The show's story, which one needn't worry about following, as Gaga finds the need to explain it more than once, (something Madonna would only do off stage. Gaga take note!), involves her and her friends trying to make it to the Monster Ball, while being sidetracked by a broken down car, a subway train that leads them astray, and a tornado (yes, a tornado) that drops her and her gang in a scary version of Central Park, complete with black trees, and park benches made of giant razor blades.
It was at that point in the show, with the song "Paparazzi" that I stopped being annoyed with its literalness, and just embraced the whole ridiculous mess. (I wouldn't want to spoil anything, but if you're wondering if the "Monster" in "Monster Ball" makes a literal appearance, that would be yes.)
Of almost equal entertainment was counting the number of different things seen attached to the heads of the fans--sorry, "Little Monsters"--in the crowd. Among those items were caution tape; feathers; soda cans; orbiting rings; fiber optic cowboy hats; mirror shards; bows made of hair; and horns. Also, there was a guy in a bunny costume. I don't know.
Of course, all that paled in comparison to the get-ups Gaga donned during the course of her show. My favorite was probably the white wedding dress/angel costume, with its huge train, wings, and fan headdress that opened and closed during the course of the song "So Happy I Could Die," sung while standing on a platform hovering above the crowd.
The show clocked in at two hours, and I can see an argument for some tightening here and there. Gaga likes to talk to her fans. A lot. And while these speeches are endearing, they also have the tendency to grind the show to a halt.
The irony inherent in her commanding people to be "who you want to be," paired with her pleads for worship (she likens herself to Tinkerbell, a modern pop princess fairy who will die without our constant applause), have been noted before, most brilliantly by Rich Juzwiak, and a lot of her audience love could be perceived as pandering. But I'm pushing middle-age here, so Gaga's message of embracing ones inner freak and mutual acceptance is not really aimed at me.
I hope it does get though to those who might benefit, and the fact that a nightly donation of $20,000 goes to a LBGT charity benefiting homeless youth means she's not just talk.
She's also not just show. My defense of Lady Gaga, to those who just don't get it, always begins and ends with the fact that the lady has talent. She's got an amazing voice, and a complete knack for writing a catchy pop song. Lady Gaga without the talent is Ke$ha, so I'll take Gaga any day.
The line for the Robert Duvall tribute and screening of Get Low at the Castro on Friday night started about 90 minutes before showtime, and was around the block shortly thereafter. After scarfing down some pizza at Marcello's across the street, I grabbed a spot in line, and once inside headed straight for the balcony, knowing most of the good seats on the ground floor would be cordoned off for movie types, as is the case with many of these events. As luck would have it, I was one of the first in the balcony, and got a nice seat front row center. Alas, I think the seats up there have been around since the theater's opening, as they are not the cushiest. My bum was numb by the end of the three hour night.
I learned it's pretty easy to spot movie industry folks away from their SoCal stomping grounds. The women were better dressed than any of the regular ticket holders, and the men all sported meticulously unshaven faces and wore blazers. Eventually, they were joined by someone I recognized, but couldn't name until I realized, while watching the movie, that it was actor Bill Cobbs.
A little after showtime, an introduction to the evening was made, and a brief retrospective video of some of Robert Duvall's best roles was presented. It included a lot from The Godfather movies, and not nearly enough from The Great Santini.
Following that, Robert Duvall came onstage for an interview with David D'Arcy. Duvall looked dapper, in jeans and some tan boots, and was a little shorter than I thought he'd be. The talk started with a discussion of his early acting days in New York, barely getting by, and living in such a crappy apartment that he once woke up and had to "literally flick a cockroach off [his] teeth."
D'Arcy, in what I imagine was an attempt to keep the conversation local, asked a lot of questions about the making of THX 1138, part of which was filmed in the then under construction BART tunnels. Duvall spoke highly of George Lucas' abilities as a director (I guess he hasn't seen any of the Star Wars prequels?), and called him a real innovator, which yeah, is undeniably true. Duvall had initially met Lucas when he was doing The Rain People with Francis Ford Coppola, and that's what ultimately lead to his role in The Godfather.
The on-stage portion of the interview didn't actually go on that long before it was opened it up to questions from the audience, which is always a risky endeavor. And yes, there were some questions that were actually just declarations of love, including the bringing of flowers and a love letter to the stage.
One actual question was about his role in The Road, which was really just a cameo, and Duvall was very critical of the handling of the movie saying, "the Weinsteins trashed it! They didn't do anything with that movie. They didn't do publicity or anything." He was also asked what his all-time favorite character to play was, and he was quick to say Gus McCrae in Lonesome Dove, likening the role to the American equivalent of Shakespeare.
One of the final questions was whether he'd ever consider, with his love of Argentine tango, doing "Dancing With the Stars." He replied "that's too much work!" and was also critical of the version of the Argentine tango they do on the show, saying it's not authentic, and it takes years to learn. I say, get in there and teach them a thing or two, Bobby!
Following the Q&A was a screening of his new film Get Low. (Which is just a terrible title. In trying to remember it, it inevitably gets misquoted as "Low Down," or worse, "Down Low.")
Duvall plays Felix Bush, an old hermit in 1930s Tennessee, who decides to throw a funeral while he's still alive so he can hear all the stories people would tell about him. It sounds kind of grim, but it's actually quite funny, owing in large part to the presence of Bill Murray, who plays the funeral parlor owner who agrees to put on the "Funeral Party."
Lucas Black, who I know best for his childhood role in the short-lived TV series "American Gothic," is all grown up and hunky now, and co-stars as Murray's partner at the funeral home. His southern drawl is, thankfully, still in tact. Sissy Spacek also has a supporting role as a woman who knew Felix in younger days, and the aforementioned Bill Cobbs is great in his role as a preacher.
Director Aaron Schneider, who began as a cinematographer, has a keen eye for period detail, and the small town, 1930s setting looks absolutely authentic without feeling fussy. The story itself has some overly melodramatic moments, but Duvall saves it from falling completely down the maudlin trap in a speech near the film's end that, in the hands of a lesser actor, could easily have been overplayed and obvious. Duvall's delivery in that scene brought tears to my eyes.
After the film, Duvall and director Schneider took the stage once again to take questions from the audience, most of which were variations on, "Congratulations on the movie. You were great in it!" Bill Cobbs was also brought on stage, and spoke of the instant rapport he felt with Duvall upon meeting him on the film set. He also said it was the first time he had watched the movie in its entirety, and when asked what he thought of it, he jokingly shrugged his shoulders and said, "Ehhhh."
Middle-aged women love Patricia Clarkson, if the conversation between friends in the Balcony Bar at the Kabuki just prior to the screening of Cairo Time Thursday night is any indication:
"Oh, I just adore Patricia Clarkson."
"Oh, yes, me too. She's just fabulous!"
"Woof!"
That last comment was not about Clarkson's looks. That bon mot came from a dog that one of the women had brought along to the theater. Now, I have to imagine that the dog was some kind of service animal, but just what kind I can't be sure, as it was a small, shaggy, black, lap dog. But, it must have been a Patricia Clarkson fan too, as not a peep was heard from it throughout the film. Perhaps it was as enraptured by the film as the rest of the audience seemed to be.
I jokingly referred to Cairo Time as Patricia Clarkson Gets Her Groove Back since the plot kind of sounds like the story of a woman finding passion in a foreign land. Thankfully, the film is much more subtle than that. Clarkson plays Juliette, a magazine writer married to a man who works for the U.N. Their children grown and out on their own, she comes to Cairo for a vacation with her husband, but finds he's stuck in skirmish in the Gaza Strip, with no real idea of when he'll be able to come to Cairo. Stuck in the foreign city alone, but not one to stay in her hotel room, she explores the city on her own, and with a local man named Tareq (Alexander Siddig), a former colleague of her husband's.
The set-up lends itself to many cliches, but the movie is able to avoid most of them. Clarkson and Siddiq are perfect in their roles, and the city of Cairo is almost a third character in the movie, alive and vibrant.
Patricia Clarkson and director Rubba Nadda were on hand after the showing to answer a few questions. Clarkson, looking quite chic in a black trench coat and black skirt, jokingly kicked up her heels telling us they had just come from having cocktail. She's quite vibrant in person, and just glows with beauty and good humor.
Rubba Nadda, who is Canadian, and of Arabic descent, discussed a trip to Cairo shee took as a teenager that stayed with her and was the ultimate influence on the film. As a result, she insisted the movie actually be shot there, as opposed to an "easier" location, such as Morocco. Clarkson had nothing but good things to say of the city, and noted that when the shoot was over and it was time to leave, those bags were the hardest bags she's ever had to pack.
The Q&A was opened up to the audience, and the most interesting exchange was probably when a woman asked about some possible naivety that the character Juliette may have demonstrated by walking the streets of Cairo in breezy "Western" outfits, showing bare arms and legs. Clarkson insisted that a lot of thought was put into what she wore in the film, and that nothing she wore would actually be considered scandalous. The director also chimed in that it's a big misconception that all the women in Middle Eastern countries are completely covered up, and that women there wear all kinds of clothing.
This is ultimately an interesting point within the context of the film, as Juliette is literally followed and groped by groups of men during her initial walks alone through the city. When she tells this to Tareq, he replies it is because she is a very beautiful woman, and makes no mention of her clothing. Apparently, the luminosity of Patricia Clarkson transcends all cultures.
