The cinetrix would like to point out that in this year of cinematic unplanned pregnancies carried to term, there was at least one abortion. She refers to the "movie" Shoot 'em Up, which she and the 'Fesser took in at the two-buck theater solely so we could gaze upon Clive Owen on a screen bigger than that of our television.
What a misogynistic, cynical exercise--a terrible mutant creature composed of adolescent male fantasies of power and the last forty minutes of Hard Boiled [which my world cinema students had warned me about] with a little bit of the baby-snatching plot from Heroic Trio thrown in. It's such a mess that it seems only fitting not to recap it but to share my impressions in an equally haphazard fashion.
- Is this what happened when Clive Owen lost out the Bond role to Daniel Craig? [The end credits rip off the Bond aesthetic more cravenly than Stephen Chow ever did.]
- Wow, somebody must have some naaaaasty photos of Paul Giamatti. This is his Boat Trip. "Fuck me, sideways" indeed.
- OK, the gun battle between parachutists is pretty cool.
- Monica Belluci plays a lactating hooker. Please don't make me say that again. Ever.
And that's more than enough energy expended on that.
The cinetrix blames Cate Blanchett for our movie mistep. See, at the same second-run-ish house the week before we'd seen Elizabeth: The Golden Age, an eye-candy confection featuring Owen as the roguish cherry on top. Mostly a series of overhead shots of swirly gowns in acid colors that probably had Sofia Coppola writhing in jealousy, Elizabeth is, as advertised, primarily a wonderful platform for Blanchett's acting chops.
But the plot concerns itself not just with the Spanish Armada and the tactical advantages of her royal highness's official virginity, but also with Elizabeth's behind-the-scenes sexual jealousy. She can't have the dashing Sir Walter Raleigh [Owen in a turn that rivals young Sean Connery for twinkling sex-on-a-stick allure] herself, so she sends her favorite lady-in-waiting, Bess, after him, then gets into a snit when the girl gets knocked up. Blanchett's pouting rivals that of her half-sister, Mary, Queen of Scots [the always creepy Samantha Morton], whenever she thinks of her bastard, Protestant sister sitting on what should be her throne.
So much to do about parturition. Which reminds me: In between our theatre jaunts we finally watched Knocked Up. Yeah, it's better than Superbad, but it's also much meaner than The 40-Year-Old Virgin. And of course it's misogynistic--it was made by men in Hollywood.
But a classic? I'd argue that Knocked Up is best understood as the back story explaining how all those unpleasant, bickering hot wife-schlub husband sitcom couples got together in the first place. And that's why Judd Apatow is being hailed as a genius. He takes television-grade actors and launches them as successful movie stars by giving them a plot and dialogue that hangs together for at least 90 minutes, which is something Lorne Michaels hasn't managed in decades. Think about it: Will Farrell, Steve Carrell, Michael Cera... Christ, Katherine Heigl's mom is played by Joanna Kerns.
I rest my case.
