SPOILER ALERT. If you don't want to know anything about this movie before you see it, then stop reading right now.
Last night I picked up my fellow actor/comic-geek buddy, David Shelley, to go watch the next Fantastic Four flick. He had spent the entire day on a film gig and was pretty exhausted. I asked him if he was up for checking out the movie and he said he was ready to just relax and veg out in front of the big screen. I said to him, "Don't worry pal, tonight we're gonna enjoy some really cool special F/x and some really bad acting, and it will be a good night!"
Sometimes I'm so on the mark, I surprise myself.
FF 2 or "Rise of the Silver Surfer" is not a bad movie. It's not a great movie, by any stretch of the imagination, but it's not bad. I did not come close to feeling the crushing deflation and seething anger that I felt after Spider-man 3. In fact, I felt pretty good coming out of the theatre. If you have kids, I would recommend taking them to this movie whole-heartedly. If you're a long time fan of the comic, you'll probably think it's a horrific bastardization of the FF mythology. But, then again, you'd probably agree that it's ten times better than the first FF movie.
The highlight of this film is the Silver Surfer. Completely animated, and voiced by the always stellar Lawrence Fishburn, the Surfer is also the best actor on the screen. This is in part a jab at the cast of the FF family, but also this is in praise of the director, F/x team and Fishburn. The performance of the Surfer was simple, direct and empathetic. And he also had the best lines.
Writing: the first 25 minutes of this movie, and the final 10 had me wincing in my seat. Until the FF started interacting with the Surfer, this movie stumbled -- badly. Too many overused, predictable one-liners and too many cheap jokes. And the cast either didn't have the talent to save the dialogue or, maybe, they saw that the stinky writing couldn't be salvaged and didn't bother to try. Jessica Alba, while always nice to look at, was probably the worst offender. As Sue Storm (eventually Sue Richards), she had absolutely ZERO chemistry with Reed Richards. In fact all her chemistry seemed to be saved up for Johnny Storm, her brother; as David pointed out, "Every time they had a scene together, I thought they were going to kiss!"
Iaon Gruffudd (Reed) tried his best, but the writers saved the worst bits for him. And, like Jessica Alba, he's just not old enough to pull of this role. (If the producers were smart, they would have cast Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan as the patriarch/matriarch of the ultimate superhero family: they both have the years, chemistry and chops to truly bring these roles to life.) Chris Evans (Johnny) had a little too much nudge-nudge, wink-wink in his performance for my liking, and Michael Chiklis was okay, especially considering he had a giant rock suit to act through for most of the movie.
Now, as my partner-in-crime, Shaun Mckee says, "I refuse to judge a movie for what it isn't instead of what it is." I, on the other hand, have no such qualms: I think the FF franchise has done a terrible dis-service to the myth of the Thing. The tragedy of the Thing is that he is trapped inside a monster's body and he can't get out. FF2, like its predecessor, keeps having the Thing transform between human and monster, and there are no consequences to the character. It's like Ben Grimm doesn't really mind being the Thing. And I'm not talking about his sense of humor or his good will or continual horseplay with Johnny Storm: this stays true to the comic and is one of the Thing's most endearing traits. At the same time, the Thing is the most tragic figure of the the FF as well as the physical manifestation of Reed's guilt. Neither movie takes the time to explore these themes (or the first one did but in the most cursory, platonic way possible -- like a laughable second thought). I feel like both FF flicks are prime examples of how when a superhero franchise is seen as money-making vehicle instead of an opportunity to make art, the consequence ultimately hurts the superhero-film industry as a whole rather than helps it. FF is one of the longest running and most recognizable comic titles out there: don't you think it's deserving of some research or at least recognition of its artistic merit? Don't you think it's more deserving of some thought and affection when being adapted for the screen? Don't you think the characters have something more to offer besides hot actors in tight outfits doing kick-ass special F/x?
But, maybe I'm wrong: maybe what I want is much too heavy when you're designing a franchise for kids.
(Mind you -- take look at classics like The Secret of Nymh or The Dark Crystal from the 1980's as examples of childrens' films that are unafraid to expose a young audience to elements of darkness. A generation grew up on these films; hell, I watched both of these films in elementary school. While scary, they were also wonderful.)
Okay - enough bitchin'. I actually liked this movie, for the most part. The exposition and conclusion, while painful, were also mercifully short and the movie wastes little time getting to the action. And the action is fun: the Surfer/Torch chase (as scene in previews) is excellent, there is a natural disaster in London averted, a choice battle between the Surfer and the US military which is short and sweet -- and an even better battle between the FF and Doctor Doom (SPOILERS COMING NOW) after Doom takes control of the Surfer's board and powers. I actually really like the film's depiction of Galactus (ominous black nebula cloud) and, as my buddy David says, you can see the outline of the comic-based Galactus head/helmet within the nebula during the film's climax (I'll have to take his word for it; I totally missed it). The film fails to explain how the Surfer is able to destroy Galactus or how he finds out he is able to do it... or if he already knew then what his reasoning was for not destroying it until this point. There were a couple murmers of "what?" in the theatre during the climax. This also was confusing for a moment because you think that the Surfer has decided to sacrifice his home world/true-love-at-home to save the Earth -- but then you realize the Surfer is actually deciding to sacrifice himself for the sake of the Earth.
So it's all good. Overall I'd say 3 1/2 stars of 5.
It's fun ride!
Monday, June 18, 2007
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Holy Crap! It's an Oratorio... I think...
On the front page of the "BUZZ" section of the Sunday edition of the Toronto Star today:
"THE AFTERLIFE OF BRIAN: The film that delighted millions and shocked a very noisy few comes to a Toronto stage in the form of an oratorio, no less."
Inside there is a photo of Life of Brian dress rehearsal with Eric Idle, among others, standing in front of music stands, in plain dress... performing.
Dress rehearsal? This is starting to seem awfully familiar. What the heck is an Oratorio? I look it up. From the Oxford Dictionary: a large-scale musical work for orchestra and voices, typically a narrative on a religious theme, performed without the use of costumes, scenery, or action.
Holy Crap, I think. I'm doing an Oratorio.
A little backgroud: Superhero Live!, currently being released as 15-min audio Podcast episodes online at www.superherolive.com, is going to be performed in full "Live!" at the 2007 Edmonton International Fringe Theatre Festival in August. The production is NOT going to be fully staged and there will be no sets, little costuming, and no stage-fighting. It IS primarily a musical work for band and voices. And, depending on how fervent the fan, Superheroes are a religion of their own.
I was wondering how the heck I was going to describe this upcoming production to the media in the days leading up to the Fringe. A live version of the radio-play? That sounds like it's a fully staged work. A staged reading? Well, no, because the work will be completely memorized, and the performance will be much more heightened than just a reading. A stationary musical? Not really--there's no singing. An audio comic book? That's okay, but it doesn't really say anything about the show...
"Oratorio"... now that sounds impressive. Established. Distinguished--classy even. Maybe I could call it a Rock-Oratorio in my press release. "I'm gonna produce an Oratorio," I thought; I was pretty damned impressed with myself.
Of course, there are major differences for what I intend to produce with Superhero Live!, and what an Oratorio is supposed to be. First off, an Oratorio is meant to be performed with a full orchestra. I have two musicians. Second, an Oratorio is meant to be primarily a musical piece and the plot/story of the piece is somewhat minimal compared to the music. Superhero Live! is very plot heavy, and the acting of the dialogue is central to the success of the production. And there is no singing. Oratorios are basically church-friendly operas, from what I understand.
However this will all be very useful to me when we start rehearsals and it becomes my duty to explain to the cast what I want this production to be in its "Live!" form. The musical score had to play an unfortunately-but-necessarily diminished role within the Radio-play format of the Podcasts. This was for the sake of clarity: without anything to look at, we needed to make sound effects much more prominent in the soundscape of the story so that the listener would be able to understand what the heck was going on. But the original intent of the production was for the music to be much more integral to the piece: it is supposed to be as integral to the plot as the dialogue... just a different way of experiencing the piece. In the live show, the music will be more prominent, and watching the musicians (and actors) perform will be one of the best things about the show... maybe even moreso than listening to the plot.
Is the play going to be a bunch of actors and musicians standing around and delivering their lines? Yes and no. The way our venue is set up and how I'm going stage the work is going to be intriguing to watch... or not watch, depending where you sit...
I won't say any more, as I don't want to spoil it months before the Fringe starts! You'll have come check out the show if you're interested to see what I've got up my sleeve.
So I suppose "oratorio" works as well as any other descriptor for Superhero Live!, which continues to prove itself somewhat un-classifiable. It is and it isn't.
What I know for sure, and what I'm excited to share, is that the "Live!" production is going to be it's own animal. It will be different than the Podcasts, an entirely different experience. It's going to be exciting, fun and an adrenaline rush.
I can't wait to see what people think!!!
"THE AFTERLIFE OF BRIAN: The film that delighted millions and shocked a very noisy few comes to a Toronto stage in the form of an oratorio, no less."
Inside there is a photo of Life of Brian dress rehearsal with Eric Idle, among others, standing in front of music stands, in plain dress... performing.
Dress rehearsal? This is starting to seem awfully familiar. What the heck is an Oratorio? I look it up. From the Oxford Dictionary: a large-scale musical work for orchestra and voices, typically a narrative on a religious theme, performed without the use of costumes, scenery, or action.
Holy Crap, I think. I'm doing an Oratorio.
A little backgroud: Superhero Live!, currently being released as 15-min audio Podcast episodes online at www.superherolive.com, is going to be performed in full "Live!" at the 2007 Edmonton International Fringe Theatre Festival in August. The production is NOT going to be fully staged and there will be no sets, little costuming, and no stage-fighting. It IS primarily a musical work for band and voices. And, depending on how fervent the fan, Superheroes are a religion of their own.
I was wondering how the heck I was going to describe this upcoming production to the media in the days leading up to the Fringe. A live version of the radio-play? That sounds like it's a fully staged work. A staged reading? Well, no, because the work will be completely memorized, and the performance will be much more heightened than just a reading. A stationary musical? Not really--there's no singing. An audio comic book? That's okay, but it doesn't really say anything about the show...
"Oratorio"... now that sounds impressive. Established. Distinguished--classy even. Maybe I could call it a Rock-Oratorio in my press release. "I'm gonna produce an Oratorio," I thought; I was pretty damned impressed with myself.
Of course, there are major differences for what I intend to produce with Superhero Live!, and what an Oratorio is supposed to be. First off, an Oratorio is meant to be performed with a full orchestra. I have two musicians. Second, an Oratorio is meant to be primarily a musical piece and the plot/story of the piece is somewhat minimal compared to the music. Superhero Live! is very plot heavy, and the acting of the dialogue is central to the success of the production. And there is no singing. Oratorios are basically church-friendly operas, from what I understand.
However this will all be very useful to me when we start rehearsals and it becomes my duty to explain to the cast what I want this production to be in its "Live!" form. The musical score had to play an unfortunately-but-necessarily diminished role within the Radio-play format of the Podcasts. This was for the sake of clarity: without anything to look at, we needed to make sound effects much more prominent in the soundscape of the story so that the listener would be able to understand what the heck was going on. But the original intent of the production was for the music to be much more integral to the piece: it is supposed to be as integral to the plot as the dialogue... just a different way of experiencing the piece. In the live show, the music will be more prominent, and watching the musicians (and actors) perform will be one of the best things about the show... maybe even moreso than listening to the plot.
Is the play going to be a bunch of actors and musicians standing around and delivering their lines? Yes and no. The way our venue is set up and how I'm going stage the work is going to be intriguing to watch... or not watch, depending where you sit...
I won't say any more, as I don't want to spoil it months before the Fringe starts! You'll have come check out the show if you're interested to see what I've got up my sleeve.
So I suppose "oratorio" works as well as any other descriptor for Superhero Live!, which continues to prove itself somewhat un-classifiable. It is and it isn't.
What I know for sure, and what I'm excited to share, is that the "Live!" production is going to be it's own animal. It will be different than the Podcasts, an entirely different experience. It's going to be exciting, fun and an adrenaline rush.
I can't wait to see what people think!!!
Monday, May 21, 2007
Event Movies
On May 25, 1977, Star Wars opened and flipped the film-making industry on its head, 55 days before that, I was born.
There has been a tonne of focus in the media about Star Wars' 30th anniversary because that movie changed... well, everything about movies. The term "Blockbuster" didn't exist before Star Wars, the opening weekend wasn't the litmus test for the film's success, and merchandising was meant to support the movie rather than vice-versa.
There has also been a tonne of lamentation: George Lucas' destruction of the Star Wars franchise through his incessant profit-mongering. The destruction of the film industry itself since the focus has changed from story-telling to special effects and action sequences. There was a quote in the Toronto Star: "The danger is that the public buys into the concept of seeing event movies to the point where people don't want to see anything but event movies."
Well, sure. But isn't that what Hollywood wants too? Why else do they built the huge cinema complexes with digital surround sound and 10 story high definition screens? "Silver-City" was not built for art films from Quebec. Or any other kinds of movies, really. If I'm going to pay $15 bucks for a movie ticket (plus another $30 on a small popcorn), you're damn right I want to see an event.
It IS an event. The experience of seeing an event movie in the (newer) theatres can be awesome (as in awe-inspiring rather than just "cool"). When the story and characters aren't totally ruined by shallow writing... which does happen more often than not with event movies... the experience can be immensely satisfying. And this is not to say that non-event movies don't allow for that same experience. However many people would rather rent those other movies, or catch them on TV a couple years down the road, or download it and watch it on the computer. In my case, I'd rather go to live theatre.
Because what's the point of paying $15 bucks to see a movie that doesn't do the screen it's shown on justice?
I grew up with the Hollywood of today; I can't lament for the past because I don't know what that was. I expect to see trilogies and I expect cool special effects. My expectations are not any lower because I grew up with Star Wars; I get just as disappointed and disgusted when what should be a perfectly good quality franchise gets ruined by "artistic" choices determined by profit rather than creativity.
People usually categorize the event-movie by its mega-budget, its merchandising capability, and its franchising capability. But it's more than that. It's an opportunity for a community to gather. All the "Pirate" nerds, all the "Sci-fi" nerds, all the "Schwarzenegger" nerds, all the "Comics" nerds... they all can get together and identify with one another. "We all belong to this community, we are great in numbers and we are proud of our geek-dom."
I'd like to make event-theatre to be honest. This is a bit of an oxymoron, though, as the experience of seeing theatre is already an event even when you've gone to catch an experimental solo performance with no props. Because the theatre community is by definition a tight-knit local community. And, to be fair, we're mostly made up of former high school drama nerds.
Theatre franchises have yet to be tried... George F. Walker's "Suburban Motel" excepted of course. I'd like to try to create a theatre franchise. If I'm ever successful in doing it, I hope that my artistic choices will always remain artistic.
I hope my audience will hold me to that.
There has been a tonne of focus in the media about Star Wars' 30th anniversary because that movie changed... well, everything about movies. The term "Blockbuster" didn't exist before Star Wars, the opening weekend wasn't the litmus test for the film's success, and merchandising was meant to support the movie rather than vice-versa.
There has also been a tonne of lamentation: George Lucas' destruction of the Star Wars franchise through his incessant profit-mongering. The destruction of the film industry itself since the focus has changed from story-telling to special effects and action sequences. There was a quote in the Toronto Star: "The danger is that the public buys into the concept of seeing event movies to the point where people don't want to see anything but event movies."
Well, sure. But isn't that what Hollywood wants too? Why else do they built the huge cinema complexes with digital surround sound and 10 story high definition screens? "Silver-City" was not built for art films from Quebec. Or any other kinds of movies, really. If I'm going to pay $15 bucks for a movie ticket (plus another $30 on a small popcorn), you're damn right I want to see an event.
It IS an event. The experience of seeing an event movie in the (newer) theatres can be awesome (as in awe-inspiring rather than just "cool"). When the story and characters aren't totally ruined by shallow writing... which does happen more often than not with event movies... the experience can be immensely satisfying. And this is not to say that non-event movies don't allow for that same experience. However many people would rather rent those other movies, or catch them on TV a couple years down the road, or download it and watch it on the computer. In my case, I'd rather go to live theatre.
Because what's the point of paying $15 bucks to see a movie that doesn't do the screen it's shown on justice?
I grew up with the Hollywood of today; I can't lament for the past because I don't know what that was. I expect to see trilogies and I expect cool special effects. My expectations are not any lower because I grew up with Star Wars; I get just as disappointed and disgusted when what should be a perfectly good quality franchise gets ruined by "artistic" choices determined by profit rather than creativity.
People usually categorize the event-movie by its mega-budget, its merchandising capability, and its franchising capability. But it's more than that. It's an opportunity for a community to gather. All the "Pirate" nerds, all the "Sci-fi" nerds, all the "Schwarzenegger" nerds, all the "Comics" nerds... they all can get together and identify with one another. "We all belong to this community, we are great in numbers and we are proud of our geek-dom."
I'd like to make event-theatre to be honest. This is a bit of an oxymoron, though, as the experience of seeing theatre is already an event even when you've gone to catch an experimental solo performance with no props. Because the theatre community is by definition a tight-knit local community. And, to be fair, we're mostly made up of former high school drama nerds.
Theatre franchises have yet to be tried... George F. Walker's "Suburban Motel" excepted of course. I'd like to try to create a theatre franchise. If I'm ever successful in doing it, I hope that my artistic choices will always remain artistic.
I hope my audience will hold me to that.
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special effects,
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