Review of It's Kind of a Funny Story

Highly recommended. Please see it.

This review previously appeared in "ICON" and is reprinted with permission.

Several weeks ago, I saw The Other Guys, the latest Will Ferrell comedy where the star dabbled in oblivious, self-serious irony for two hours. It was an amusing enough diversion, but I found myself laughing out of habit. OK, Ferrell is giving a serious explanation behind a "Female Body Inspector" mug; I should probably chortle right about now.

I knew then that Ferrell's days as a go-to comedy star were done. There's no shame in that. Comedians, for whatever reason (a lack of versatility, complacency), usually age in dog years. Eddie Murphy's mid-1980s explosiveness seems like it happened a billion years ago. Like Murphy, Adam Sandler has morphed into a family-approved goofball, though he occasionally deviates from his act (Funny People). Despite being brilliant and hilarious as a stand-up comic, Chris Rock will probably never find his niche as a movie star. Dane Cook, the poor bastard, was nearly upstaged by Jessica Simpson in Employee of the Month.

Zach Galifianakis, he of the sea captain beard and boxy frame, became the latest breath of fresh air on the comedy front after The Hangover was released last year. Over the next year or two, it'll be interesting to see what he does. He's on board for a sequel to The Hangover and he's reuniting with that film's director, Todd Phillips, for November's Due Date.

What's promising about Galifianakis is that he appears uninterested in lording his dry, absurd comedic brand over the masses at every opportunity. In his latest effort, It's Kind of a Funny Story, Galifianakis plays Bobby, a longtime mental patient who befriends and mentors Craig (Keir Gilchrist, United States of Tara), a super-stressed 16-year-old, after the teen convinces a psychiatrist to admit him. Bobby is a role that begs for a performer to hijack the script and turn it into a misguided comedic display. Galifianakis refuses to go big, and his sympathetic, subdued performance is a big part of the movie's heart.

Like any teenager, Craig has problems. Only these weigh him down like an anchor. Despite being in one of New York City's top-flight high schools, Craig has no skills that set him apart from his talented classmates. That makes his father's desire for him to apply to some kind of exclusive summer program all the more toxic. Craig's best friend, Aaron (Thomas Mann), is an athletic and academic giant with a sultry girlfriend (Zoë Kravitz) named Nia whom Craig constantly imagines in a bathtub. With so much to worry about and college barreling toward him, there's no time for Craig to enjoy being a kid, to embrace the possibilities that come with it. The present and the future, which must seem like a giant dead end, provide nothing but stress.

After getting admitted to Argenon Hospital in Brooklyn, it doesn't take Craig long to realize that he doesn't belong there. Hospital rules won't acknowledge his moment of clarity. He must spend a minimum of five days on the ward, which contains a mix of adults and teens. It's not so bad. Bobby immediately becomes Craig's guide and inadvertent life coach. And Craig finally gets attention from a pretty girl, Noelle (Emma Roberts), a 16-year-old cutter who has the musical tastes of an alt-weekly magazine editor. While he makes friends at his temporary home, Craig becomes a cult hero at his school. Nia, who digs how experienced he's become, suddenly finds Craig quite appealing.

There are times when It's Kind of a Funny Story veers dangerously toward Park Slope cool. Noelle seems more equipped to be the hot girl at the independent record store than a psych ward resident, and Jeremy Davies' hat-wearing staff worker looks like the kind of guy who spends his weekends shopping at upscale SoHo thrift stores. Working from Ned Vizzini's semi-autobiographical book, writers/directors Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck (Half Nelson, Sugar) never portray Argenon as a trendy destination. It's where a scared, confused kid finds himself, and the directors' portrayal of that is triumphant without being hokey When Craig is required to sing Queen and David Bowie's "Under Pressure," it's presented as a glammed-out rock opera. Craig's considerable drawing abilities unfurl gigantic and dream-like, as if they can't be contained. Craig's narration is accompanied by flashy images (e.g., Aaron's list of accomplishments), and colorful still shots. It's all dramatic and over-the-top, but that's how a teenager's mind operates. There are few shades of gray.

Still, Boden and Fleck never overplay their hand. This is undoubtedly a feel-good story, but there's a refreshing pragmatic streak, which makes Galifianakis' stellar performance so important. He's funny, but we can tell Bobby has suffered through one too many setbacks—he's tried to commit suicide six times, his wife has no use for him. There's little time left for comebacks. In Craig, Bobby sees someone who has too much potential to share his path. Galifianakis' gentle, weary approach expresses a cold truth: He has just enough energy left to steer Craig in the right direction. "You're cool, you're smart, you're talented," Bobby tells Craig. "Do you know what I'd do to be you for a day?" If given that chance, Bobby adds, he'd live life like it meant something.

Galifianakis isn't the only cast member who delivers the goods. Gilchrist manages to be brittle without being whiny (a major accomplishment), and Viola Davis (Doubt) is properly warm and reassuring as the psychiatrist with whom Craig reaches a breakthrough. Roberts is fresh-faced and delightful, just like aunt Julia was back in the day. Now that he's a comedy heavyweight, someone who could impose his will on a movie, Galifianakis' fine work matters the most. He doesn't aim for laughs; he doesn't resort to a routine. He just acts. That bodes well for It's Kind of a Funny Story and for Galifianakis' future. [PG-13]

Film Round-Up for October

In this edition of The Film Round-Up, you're in for a load of treats. You want great performances from talented young actresses? Got 'em. Hankering for a great romantic comedy? It's right here. Honestly, this was the best crop of movies I've seen in a long time, though it would have been nice if "Easy A" with the kick-ass Emma Stone (pictured) hadn't faltered in the end.

As always, these reviews previously appeared in "ICON" and are reprinted with permission. (Thanks, Trina.)

Heartbreaker (Dir: Pascal Chaumeil). Starring: Romain Duris, Vanessa Paradis, Julie Ferrier, François Damiens, Héléna Noguerra, Andrew Lincoln, Jacques Frantz. For the right price and the right reasons, Alex Lippi—suave, handsome, and indisputably French—will seduce a woman so thoroughly that she will leave whatever loser she is seeing. Alex excels at his job, but his playboy lifestyle forces him to accept a profitable, but impossible assignment. Posing as the target's bodyguard, he must convince this gorgeous, successful bride-to-be (Paradis) to dump her apparently perfect fiancé (Lincoln). What's worse, Alex has only five days to complete the assignment. As predictable as the sunset, but you won't care. Duris and Paradis are almost comically sexy, the script is frothy and funny, and the sun-drenched Monaco scenery is enchanting. Perfectly packaged, impeccably paced, and full of good performances, including Ferrier (a master of disguise) and Damiens (a high-tech doofus with misguided acting aspirations), who nearly steal the movie as Alex's married colleagues. Heartbreaker is irresistible cinematic comfort food. If it doesn't put a hop in your step, check your pulse. (Note: Not to be confused with Heartbreakers, the underrated 2001 Sigourney Weaver/Jennifer Love Hewitt con artist comedy.) [NR] ****

Never Let Me Go. Dir: Mark Romanek). Starring: Carey Mulligan, Andrew Garfield, Keira Knightley, Isobel Meikle-Small, Ella Purnell, Charlie Rowe, Charlotte Rampling, Sally Hawkins. Young caretaker Kathy (Mulligan) is reunited with her two best friends from boarding school, Tommy (Garfield) and Ruth (Knightley), under less than celebratory circumstances. In the name of medical progress, all three have been bred as donors. Former lovers Tommy and Ruth have already been plucked, while Kathy, a kind of hospice worker for these unfortunate souls, is on deck herself for donation. Their story is told in flashbacks from the 1970s to the 1990s, with Kathy serving as a somber and heartbroken narrator. A most unusual coming-of-age story that resonates more than the conventional models, Romanek (One Hour Photo) and writer Alex Garland let the drama slowly seep in, nixing sci-fi undertones and emotional bellowing. These are characters sucked into the inevitable flow of their lives, just like everyone else, which gives Never Let Me Go a powerful (and relatable) poignancy. The three adult leads are very good, especially Mulligan. Like she did in An Education, and without a trace of effort, the talented young actress reminds us of someone we know. [R] ****

Easy A (Dir: Will Gluck). Starring: Emma Stone, Penn Badgley, Amanda Bynes, Aly Michalka, Patricia Clarkson, Stanley Tucci, Thomas Haden Church, Lisa Kudrow, Malcolm McDowell. Thanks to cell phones and the social network, a little white lie about a weekend fling immediately turns 17-year-old nobody Olive Penderghast (Stone) into a scandalous celebrity at her California high school. Olive then uses her newly acquired reputation (and only that) to "deflower" desperate male classmates, a benevolent act that leads to unforeseen consequences and forces her to set the record straight via Webcam. Stone (Superbad), in a star-making performance, is whip-smart, cheeky, and sexy sarcastic as the beleaguered heroine. So is everyone else, from her longtime crush (Badgley, who looks like he's in his tenth senior year) to her parents (Tucci and Clarkson) to her favorite teacher (Church). That lack of variety, teamed with more tired observations on the religious right and the movie's leeching of Brat Pack nostalgia, eventually negates the movie's bouncy energy and biting humor. Teens, however, should love every second of it as well as Stone's smart, plucky work. [PG-13] ***

Mesrine: Public Enemy #1 (Dir: Jean-François Richet). Starring: Vincent Cassel, Ludivine Sagnier, Mathieu Amalric, Samuel Le Bihan, Gérard Lanvin, Olivier Gourmet. Conclusion to the two-part biography of Jacques Mesrine (Cassel), the famed French criminal/escape artist/charmer, takes place in the second half of the 1970s. At this point, Mesrine has become a major celebrity, and not just because he is France's biggest public enemy. He's all about cultivating a persona. He writes a book in prison, conducts a scandalous interview with a major magazine, and pretends his criminal acts have political significance. And he gains a super-hot girlfriend (Sagnier), whom he showers with expensive gifts after kidnapping a real estate tycoon. The ride is exhilarating, but it doesn't last for long. Exciting, well-filmed tale gets a big boost thanks to Cassel's towering, magnetic performance and a script that manages to make Mesrine mesmerizing without glamorizing his lifestyle. One thing is clear: If the police hadn't gunned down Mesrine in 1979, his massive ego wouldn't have kept him alive for too long. [R] ***

The Reason for the Delay...

Sorry about the extended absence, folks. A big reason is because I'm just coming down from a gigantic whirlwind of activity, which culminated in my fiancee and I moving in together.

I'm thrilled with everything, but man was the last month a whirlwind: Finding a place, packing, finding someone to rent out my place (did it), unloading the packed boxes (lots of books) from two separate locations, and then unpacking. We--and our families, who were huge--moved on Friday and Saturday. We began unpacking Sunday. On Monday, she went to work and I ventured off to New York for three screenings.

And then by the end of my second screening ("It's Kind of a Funny Story"), my throat felt like I was swallowing battery acid. My right ear hurt like someone kept inserting a pocket knife and twisting it.

Tuesday through Thursday (September 14 through September 16) I was sidelined with an infected throat that basically shut down the right side of my mouth and made me sound like Kirk Douglas. Nothing got done until Friday, when I had to clean out my apartment, and meet my new tenant. Though I was sweating like a malaria victim and my head felt like it was stuffed with exotic meats, I did what needed to be done.

Last week was spent catching up on writing assignments and last-minute house stuff. So, that leads us to present day. Here's what you can expect now that I'm not back on solid food:

--An interview with Todd Solondz
--The movie-related benefits of moving in
--A stellar collection of movie reviews

I'm eager to get back into the swing of things in a new location in a terrific office with the woman of my dreams.

So, let's get to it.

Sure, and The Naked Gun is an allegory

The Keds Are Alright? Madeleine Albright?

This shot was taken about a week ago at my hometown movie theater. The titles were sent in via text message, right? There's no other explanation.

Also, nice job getting the biggest movie of the year and the summer's independent darling in the third week of August. Thank God, NYC is a train ride away, and Red Bank shows fairly current indy stuff.

Book of the Month for September

I love books. They're fun, educational, and they can provide an invaluable upper body workout.

As you may or may not know, I'm a gigantic fan of Woody Allen. And not just the movies, but pretty much everything. His stand-up albums are ingenious as is his humor writing, which has been published frequently in "The New Yorker" for decades.

So, you can imagine how excited I was when I had a few spare moments available to read for pleasure. I grabbed a copy of Eric Lax's "Woody Allen: A Biography" and gobbled it up in several sittings. Lax had unprecedented access to Allen, talking to him during the filmmaking process and afterwards. (Lax took four years to finish the book, but had also covered Woody as a journalist since the 1970s. It's important to note that the version I read doesn't include the Son-Yi/Woody/Mia debacle.)

Lax also talked to family members, business associates, actors, and crew members, so he paints a rich portrait of Woody as an artist. It's fascinating to read about how he learned joke writing from Danny Simon (Neil's brother) and how he honed his stand-up routine to a high polish. I knew nothing about that background.

Some other things I learned...

1.) The man loves reshoots and rewriting. He tinkers incessantly.
2.) Sean Young was originally in "Crimes and Misdemeanors"? Sean friggin' Young!?
3.) Woody and Mia Farrow lived in separate townhouses, and it's fairly obivous reading the book that work is higher on the importance scale than kids.
4.) Annie Hall orginally featured a basketball scene with the Knicks.
5.) The original script for "Crimes and Misdemeanors" contained this now-unfortunate line: "The future of the world is in little girls."

Regardless of whether you like or dislike Woody, it's a wonderful look into his creative life and his methods.

Read in peace.

Scott Pilgrim vs. the World

This was a bit of a disappointment, though seeing this with a collection of fanboys made me feel like Clooney at the Palms.

This review previously appeared in ICON and is reprinted with permission.

Some actors have become legends by establishing a persona. With a few exceptions, Jack Nicholson has played the same rogue since the 1970s. Sean Connery's subdued senior cool was so convincing that regardless of whether he was a Russian submarine captain or a Chicago cop, he never altered his Scottish brogue. The same applies to Michael Cera, who has developed a nice little career by being earnest, self-depreciating, and a little awkward. He's the walking embodiment of what every girl claims she wants—smart, cute, and funny—if only the guy had the balls to make a move. Think John Cusack without the confidence or the muscle tone.

Can those qualities make you a movie star, though? Based on Cera's latest effort, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, the new action comedy from writer/director Edgar Wright (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz), I'd say no. What makes Cera so appealing is also what makes him a gamble as a matinee idol.

Cera plays the title character, a young sad sack with a struggling rock band and an underage girlfriend (Ellen Wong). The days pass along in a slacker haze, until Scott dreams of a girl riding around in roller skates. It's an unshakeable image, but one that's tangible: The girl exists and she's just moved to Toronto, Scott's hometown. Her name is Ramona Flowers, who's played with aloof sexiness Mary Elizabeth Winstead. Scott presses acquaintances for details, eventually learning that she works for Amazon.ca. He orders a super-cool item, waits for it (and, illogically, Ramona) to arrive, and then makes his move. Granted, he gets her to go on a date by refusing to sign for the package, but a yes is a yes.

Their courtship is awkward. Ramona has moved to Toronto to get away from the drama of New York City, so she's not exactly chatty; Scott's so overwhelmed that it's a miracle he doesn't keep fainting. Clearly something is brewing, because Scott soon faces the challenge of a lifetime. In order to keep dating Ramona, he must defeat her seven evil exes, who range from a vegan punk rock bassist (Brandon Routh) to an eye black-wearing lesbian (Mae Whitman) to a sleazy music mogul (Jason Schwartzman). They all have superhero powers and super-sized grudges, forcing Scott to face his flaws and summon his inner and physical strength.

The battles, modeled after video games and comic book rumbles, are presented by Wright with his tongue very firmly planted in cheek. It's a clever idea, but Scott Pilgrim vs. the World never gets beyond that concept. Wright excels at taking tired genres (e.g., zombie films, buddy action films) and extracting fresh humor, but here he's shackled by a plot requiring six similar fight sequences and a star stuck on Bob Newhart mode. I know that Cera's presence is supposed to be funny, but it's a little much to ask an audience to play along for 112 minutes.

Especially when the supporting cast is so blah. Aubrey Plaza, as Scott's non-combative neighborhood nemesis, rehashes her lazy-voiced attitude from Funny People; Anna Kendrick employs the same efficient perkiness that bafflingly earned her an Oscar nomination for Up in the Air; Schwartzman plays another blowhard; Alison Pill (Milk, Pieces of April) plays another grump. Uniformity soon settles over the movie like a dense fog. Despite its winking style and subversive source material (a series of graphic novels), Wright is reluctant to commit to belly laughs or to expand the characters beyond buffoonish hipster caricatures. The movie is too busy being cool and ironic to care.

Cera isn't left to fend for himself. He gets help from Winstead and Kieran Culkin (as Scott's "cool gay roommate"), but they can't compensate for Cera's lack of range. Every line he utters sounds like an apology, and the more we see of his sensitive, funny-guy antics, the more we're reminded why Timothy Hutton never survived as a leading man. Michael Cera is a hell of a supporting comedian with his own distinct style, which Scott Pilgrim vs. the World turns into a soulless trademark like Megan Fox's lips or Hugh Jackman's chest. Hollywood has always offered too much of a good thing, and Cera could be the next casualty if he's not careful. [PG-13]