Cold Mountain (R)

Approximately one hour and five minutes into “Cold Mountain,” the movie I had been watching transformed into something else.  A few things occurred to me during that initial one hour and five minutes of torture, namely that Bob and Harvey Weinstein (the Miramax executives who brought us “Good Will Hunting,” “Shakespeare in Love,” “Pulp Fiction,” and many more) had the good sense to insist on the removal of 2 ½ hours of footage.  They had a similar problem with “Kill Bill” recently.  Their solution then was to release that film in two volumes keeping most of Quentin Tarantino’s story intact.  Obviously, the missing 2½ hours of “Cold Mountain” did not warrant that kind of special treatment.  Regardless, for the span of one hour and five minutes the film appears extremely disjointed as the story staggers from scene to scene flashing to and fro across time.  Exactly how much of the confusion, bewilderment, and frustration I felt during said period of time can be attributed to the missing footage will remain unknown until subsequent DVD release.

During that one hour, five minute endurance trial this film lived up to its title—it was nothing more than a frigid stone; nothing to laugh about, nothing to cry about, nothing to root for, and nothing to invoke any emotional response whatsoever.  Sufficient to say the first part of this film did nothing to stir my soul.  The Battle of the Crater is strikingly filmed though nobody really knows why.  The battle was not included in the best selling novel of the same name by Charles Frazier, so why did they spend so much time, effort, and cold hard cash putting it in on film?  Nothing captured even came close to that depicted in “Glory” anyway so it seems like a huge waste on all accounts.  I also found it extremely odd that these filmmakers would attempt to tell a story set in the South without an African-American anywhere in sight.   Well, there was one fighting for the Blue in the opening battle, which doesn’t make any sense at all since the Army was segregated at the time.  Donald Sutherland frees all his slaves and Inman (Jude Law) stumbles across a few runaways, but that’s about it.  There are no African American characters with speaking roles.

The bottom line is that we didn’t need one hour and five minutes to set things up.  All we needed to know was that boy meets girl, girl fancies boy, and boy kisses girl only to go off to war; we needed the death of Ada’s father, one scene establishing the fact that she (Nicole Kidman) can’t make it on her own (not twenty scenes or however many there were—I lost count), and one battle scene after which our hero (Inman) decides to go AWOL.  Instead we are treated to all the above and excessively too much more, including two lengthy battles heeled by a prolonged sequence inside a confederate military hospital.  The audience is subjected to one hour and five minutes of footage that even the most hardcore Civil War enthusiast would question.  My question for Bob and Harvey is but this—Why didn’t you have them cut three hours and thirty-five minutes instead?

Okay, so much for the first hour and five minutes. 

One hour and five minutes into “Cold Mountain” Renee Zellweger showed up and saved the day.  Suddenly this puzzling, emotionless story about too much of nothing became something worth watching.  From the very moment Ruby (Zellweger) graced the screen I began to laugh, I began to cry, I began to feel, and I began to eat more popcorn and drink more cokes. 

This is her film and to keep Zellweger off-screen for one hour and five minutes is not only a mistake, it is downright cruel.  Her performance in this movie is unparalleled.  Ruby might be a little rough around the edges, but Zellweger plays her with such depth that even Kidman’s stoic Ada springs to life.  Miles and miles away, so does Jude Law, who begins an “Odyssey” of his own—much like Odysseus or Ulysses Everett McGill (George Clooney in “O Brother Where Art Thou”), whichever you prefer.  His journey back home is wrought with peril, laughter, temptation, pain, and heartache.  In the end I found myself hoping his was a journey worth taking.

In all fairness, adaptations are perhaps the most difficult form of screenwriting.  Purists want to see the novel portrayed as-is on film and they are never satisfied; you’ll find plenty on the Internet griping about how far this movie strayed from the original novel.  The only problem with that is that a novel NEVER makes a good film.  You have to adapt it, hence the term—adaptation.  And I want to be fair.  Honest, I do!  All the performances are top-notch and Zellweger’s is a cut above.  As much as I hated the first hour and five minutes of  “Cold Mountain” I must concede that the cinematography is luminous and the direction of the battle scenes sound albeit unnecessary for the real story here which is the sappy romance between a shy workingman and a equally reticent preacher’s daughter.  As sappy Civil War love stories go this motion picture is quite brilliant.  As a hardcore Civil War film I’d have to say it fails miserably.  The mistake was any attempt to mesh to two into one.

A strong word of caution to Christians concerning this film—“Cold Mountain” contains graphic violence, foul language, nudity, strong sexual content, attempted rape, and other scenes depicting human frailty and depravity of varying degrees.  Many Christians are sure to find these offensive and perverse.  If you should think for any reason seeing such things might cause you to stumble, then don’t even bother with this one.  The MPAA gives it a well-deserved R-rating and it should go without saying you should leave the kids at home.  However, considering the setting, “Cold Mountain” is not necessarily explicit merely for the sake of leaving nothing to the imagination like other films.  Once I got passed the first hour, I found it to be a story of hope and love and as such were you not easily offended then I would recommend it as a movie of some merit.
 
I’ll give the film a MATINEE rating, which means it’s not the best film out there but it might be worth an afternoon viewing at a discount price.  Only… you might consider waiting at least one hour after the start time to purchase your ticket. 

This copyrighted article was originally published in Grace-Centered Magazine - A daily publication for Christians that examines tradition and aspects of living the Christian life.

Miracle (PG)

“The Miracle on Ice” is one of my most cherished childhood memories.  Although I never really understood hockey until it came to Texas in the nineties, as a young sports fanatic growing up in the latter years of The Cold War the victory of the United States Hockey team at Lake Placid is a treasured flash in time.  In retrospect, the victory over the Russians on ice foreshadowed the victory yet to come.  But we didn’t know that then.  All I knew was that I had to sit in the car with my Dad waiting in long lines to buy gas, the hostages were in Iran, and the Russian’s were in Afghanistan.  Things were bad and they were getting worse, with the fear of total global nuclear annihilation underlying every thought, every word, and every action.  That win gave us hope, something most Americans hadn’t known for almost a decade.

I’m glad Hollywood waited… and waited… and waited to bring this story to film.  I’m glad it took almost twenty-five years to find its way to the big screen.  This story deserved to be something more than a glib movie-of-the-week experience.  The truth is larger than life in this particular instance, replete with conflict and obstacles and heart long before it ever made it to a theatre near you.  Time has made it even more poignant and revealed so much about who we were as a nation and where we were going to go.

“Miracle” captures the very essence of this great event in American history—it was a turning point.  Not the turning point, but certainly one of many that changed the direction our country was headed.  The Seventies—wrought with upheaval, strife, and uncertainty—were over.  While the fate of the United States seemed to hang in the balance back in 1980, our future as the lone Superpower was beginning to take shape. 

And this was a precarious challenge for the filmmakers.  More than two-thirds of the audience vividly remembers this monumental feat.  It is emblazoned on our memories and to do it right is to render it justly.  I’m delighted to say, the filmmakers accomplished this and so much more.  Half an hour after viewing the film I still found myself in a delicate emotional state, fighting back the tears. 

The best part about this film is simply this—it is a family film.  The temptation here would be to get very realistic.  I’m sure Herb Brooks (the team’s coach, portrayed flawlessly by Kurt Russell, Minnesota accent and all) had an extensive four-letter vocabulary.  Hockey players aren’t exactly known for their sensitivity either, not to mention the single greatest reason to be an Olympic Hockey player—chick ’s dig hockey players, false teeth and all.  Eric Guggenheim delicately handled these matters in his script.  While they are there, just bellow the surface, the film only hints that direction.  There are only a couple of curse words and one choice turn of phrase.  It is a marvelous achievement.  Obviously some vulgarities were looped out, (There are a couple of scenes that resemble something imported from Hong Kong.) but for once, Disney made a family flick without disconnecting us from believability.  Kudos. 

The film portrays the team in a very positive light and it is a shame that Brooks was not able to live long enough to see the final product.  It is said that all the young actors had experience as hockey players and it shows.  Trading veteran actors for skaters was a wise move, turning most of the drama over to Russell’s deft touch.  Patricia Clarkson and Brian Emmerich provide excellent support for Russell in their roles as wife and assistant coach respectively.  All together, these choices make “Miracle” a fantastic movie-going experience.  Director Gavin O’Conner paints a lasting portrait that takes us behind the scenes.  “Miracle” establishes Brooks’ objective from the very beginning—beat the Russians.  And that’s what it was all about.  Beating the Russians.  The gold medal game against Finland became such an afterthought; the USA almost lost the game. 

For my part, the best thing O’Conner did was to weave his game footage with Al Michael’s original play-by-play.  Michaels’ did as much to create “The Miracle on Ice” as did the team when he asked an audience of millions, “Do you believe in Miracles?  Yes.”
 
Yes.  Yes, I do.  This film gets my highest rating—HOT DATE.  Grab that special someone, drag along the kids, and get to the movie theatre before this one slips away.

This copyrighted article was originally published in Grace-Centered Magazine - A daily publication for Christians that examines tradition and aspects of living the Christian life.

M. Chad Durham's Rating System

HOT DATE--Grab your sweetie and take her out for a hot night at the movies because this film is worth full price admission.

MATINEE--This one is a pretty good flick. Catch it at the theatre at a discount screening.

RENTAL--Wait until it comes out of video to check this one out.

CATV--Not worth a trip to the video store, but not a total waste of time if you happen to catch it on cable television.

FORGEDABOUDIT!--This movie is so bad you should avoid it at all costs.

© 2004 M. Chad Durham; All Rights Reserved

Troy (R)

 

By M. Chad Durham

If you’re into watching buff, taught, steroid-laden pecs, delts, quads, tris, abs, and oft-naked bums preen and priss about the screen like some kind of Donatella Versace Greco-Roman boy-toy fashion nightmare, then “Troy” is the flick for you. Otherwise, utter disappointment waits on all fronts. Purists will hate this deviation from Homer’s classic along with anybody else that might be fond of good story-telling, fine acting, and stunning direction because this film is void of them all. To make matters worse I really could have used some Cliff Notes just to follow this lackluster hack-job otherwise known as an adapted screenplay. Astonishing really, considering I didn’t even need them when we read “The Iliad” in high school. Nor did it ever occur to me then that “The Iliad” was an epic 2½-hour gay joke. I guess I just don’t read that much into poetry, which would account for the “C” I garnered in that stupid poetry class I took in college.

And now for a moment of lamentation…

Brad Pitt. Wherever did you go? Where is the Pitt of “Se7en”, huh? The Pitt of “Seven Years in Tibet?” What happened to that guy who really could act? That’s the guy I paid money to see, not this prima ballerina prancing around like Richard Simmons on Valium in desperate need of a few dozen Prozac. No doubt Achilles was arrogant and vain but certainly not more so than Mr. Pitt is about his own looks in this film. Leastwise, that’s how it comes across on screen and I guess I’d be proud too if my body looked as good as his but from the opening sequence it is clear that his aerobicized booty is the star of this film, not Pitt the actor and therein lies the shame. Is Diane Kruger’s face capable of launching a thousand ships? Doubtful, but who would know because Pitt’s cuts and rips somehow warrant more exposure than her blessed face?

Paris is portrayed as such a wimp by Orlando Bloom, I had hard time believing one of the most beautiful woman to ever live would even look his way much less love him enough to cause one of the greatest wars the world has ever known. But I must admit Bloom as Paris was brilliant typecasting. Who better to shoot Achilles in the Achilles with an arrow? (See “Lord of The Rings” Et. Al.) His choice to employee a hitch instead of just flowing from shot to shot from his bow was a brilliant choice, subtly different but readily apparent to any expert on Middle Earth lore.

The sarcasm is dripping freely from my keyboard…

Searching for something positive to say here…

Oh! Peter O’ Toole had one really good scene with Pitt and Eric Bana did an excellent job as Hector.

See, I can be a nice guy. Now back to all that went wrong in “Troy”

The battle scenes in “Troy” might be CGI-candy, but the cutaways are annoying and they kind of defy reality. I seriously doubt there were as many people involved in this battle as there were spliced onto film. If not for all the almost-naked, somewhat-naked, and nearly naked bodies, I’d never have guessed this film was rated R. The MPAA claims this film was rated R for graphic violence, but maybe I was sleeping through that part of the film. The battle sequences (most of them anyway) are almost PG-13 in nature. Every time a soldier goes in for the kill, the movie cuts away. Not as much gore as we’ve come to expect from a wartime epoch and I look at it this way, if you’re going to make a rated R movie, you might as well make a Rated R movie. (I.e. The Passion, Saving Private Ryan, etc.) Instead, “Troy” looks like a PG-13 teenybopper flick with a little skin gratuitously tossed in for good measure. I guess this film was targeted at adults, but it just doesn’t seem that way when you’re watching it.

This week I’ll be kind and give “Troy” a CATV rating. No need to hire a sitter at all, just wait until after the kids go to bed catch it for free on cable twelve months from now.

This copyrighted article was originally published in Grace-Centered Magazine - A daily publication for Christians that examines tradition and aspects of living the Christian life.

Movie Reviews

I write movie reviews for a magazine online. You can find them at Grace Centered Magazine.

The Matrix Revolutions (R)

Consider three things before delving into this review.

First, when The Matrix was released, the flick defied convention by skewing our former acuity.  From Charlie’s Angels to the Underworld, from Scooby-Doo to Daredevil, from the Super Bowl to Buffy, our perception of reality, our acceptance of alternative angles and perspectives, and our expectations concerning production values and the action film genre in particular were forever changed.  Admit it—you’ll never see things quite the same way ever again.

Second, The Matrix defied logic.  I’m not talking about the fact that just two minutes into the film this girl named Trinity jumped up in air looking like Daniel-san on acid getting ready for the big tourney and just hung there while the camera panned around her motionless form in a180-degree semi-circle.  Granted, that was illogical and it didn’t make any sense until Neo found out just how deep the rabbit hole went in the second act, but I’m talking about reality here—not the world that the Wachowski Brothers pulled over our eyes, but rather the very real way they made some huge bank in so doing.  The Matrix franchise has garnered over $2 billion (that billion with a capital “B”, pun intended.)  Normally a film makes most of its change on opening weekend.  After that, the grosses drop dramatically.  But every once in a while, there comes the exception.  My Big Fat Greek Wedding is a perfect example of a film with “legs.”  The fact of the matter is that this movie buff didn’t even see The Matrix until it had been in theatres for over three months.  It came on the scene without much fanfare but managed to hang around until I started dating a girl who happened to think Keanu looked cute in black.  By then it was a toss up as to who had the better legs—my date, or The Matrix.

Third, The Matrix and DVD share a common bond.  I was one of the first kids on the block to buy a DVD player.  (I had a good job and I was single at the time because the aforementioned girl dumped me.  What else is a boy to do but be the first to own a complete home theatre system?)  Back then you could hardly find a place to buy DVDs much less rent them.  And ouch!  Were they ever expensive!  I had my new DVD player tucked under one arm as I searched through about a hundred titles (all they had at the time) when I came across The Matrix.  It was a new release and consequently had a lower price.  I snagged it then and there because it was the only one I could afford.  A couple of months later I realized that DVD and The Matrix formed the perfect marriage.  VHS could never have captured the sound, look, and scope of this film, not in a million years.  The Matrix needed DVD, but DVD also needed The Matrix.  A strange phenomenon ensued over the next two years as VHS slowly went the way of the dinosaur.  Stores were giving away copies of The Matrix free with the purchase of any DVD player.  Even if you missed out on that offer The Matrix was still just about the cheapest DVD available.  It remains to this day the prefect disc for testing any home theatre.  Every time I upgrade my stereo, or buy a new DVD player, or move to a new home—I jack into The Matrix, right after Neo says, “I need guns.  Lots of guns,” and give it a listen.  Once the falling shell casings give off the desired pings, I know I’m in business and I assure you that I am not alone in practicing this ritual.

Please consider for a moment what these three things did to our expectations in the years that followed.  The only way to truly wow us again would have been the creation of a NEW MATRIX.  Too bad, because according to The Architect, we were stuck inside version 6.0.  Maybe they could have thrown us the proverbial curve ball and made Zion nothing more than a Matrix within a Matrix… or a Matrix within a Matrix within a Matrix—now that would have been something, right?  Come on!  Weren’t you confused enough for the past five months?

There was absolutely no way Reloaded was going to walk away at the box office again because everybody was more than ready to see it opening weekend.  The novelty had worn off.  No more shock-and-awe to bring in the repeat customer (like that girl who thought Keanu just looked so cute—she watched it with two other guys before I came along.  I should have known that relationship was doomed.)   For the record, as of last week Reloaded was still playing on about twenty screens.  Admittedly, those ain’t exactly Tina Turner-kind-of-legs, but they are long and shapely nonetheless.

So you were disappointed with Reloaded?  Well, now you know why.  The Matrix itself elevated expectations to the extreme.  Now, if you were simply disappointed because you were confused… if you didn’t happen to major in computer science or philosophy… if you didn’t get your doctorate in Gnosticism or Theology… then you might just want to go on down to the theatre and fork over the price of admission for you and your favorite date to catch this one on the big screen before it is too late.

I do confess that Reloaded left me thoroughly confused.  I consulted my computer geek pals and their explanations didn’t help a bit.  I turned to my fellow ministers and about all we could agree on was the fact that it had something to do with control, choice, and predestination.  I rented The Animatrix and while I can now tell you all about the war that led to the creation of The Matrix and about where that annoying teen who follows Neo around in Zion came from, it did nothing to help my understanding of Reloaded.  I conquered the video game, but that only filled in some gaps.  I bought the DVD and finally—after watching it five times, things started to make sense—but I still had so many questions.  Wife was not pleased.

Last weekend, the trilogy came to a close.  In so doing, all my questions were answered and more.  No longer can there be any debate on the source of this material—Neo’s story is indeed a take on the story of Jesus Christ (but then again, so was E.T.) and the conclusion was well worth the wait.  For those of us pretentious enough and presumptuous enough to wax intellectual about the subject, the climatic scenes will provide some vindication.

Beyond aspects of salvation, the Wachowski brothers deliver as well.  The pacing of this film is far superior to Reloaded.  In Reloaded we were given twenty-minute-long action sequences followed by twenty-minute talking heads.  The balance is much better in Revolutions.  By the time Neo reaches his destination, the audience has had more than its share of awe; it has laughed more than a few times and probably shed a few tears too.  Whereas Reloaded was void of humor and emotion, driven by action, Revolutions uses action to return to emotion.  Especially as concerns those three that remain—faith, hope, and love.  But, as we know, the greatest of these is love and on this subject I will say no more.

Hugo Weaving is so wonderful as the evil Agent Smith.  So much so, I’ve come to rank Agent Smith right up there with Darth Vadar and Hanibal Lector as the greatest villains of all time.  The man laughs and it can’t go without saying, “Yeah, that’s Satan incarnate all right.”  I was particularly impressed with The Oracle’s new shell, played by Mary Alice who stepped in admirably for the dearly departed Gloria Foster.  The same can be said of Ian Bliss playing a character named Bane who just happens to be possessed by Agent Smith (or in the least one of his ever increasing minions).  He eerily mimics Smith’s facial expressions and mannerisms so well it is just down right creepy. Obviously these two did their homework.  Lawrence Fishburne was so stoic in Reloaded his acting looked stale, but in hindsight it now seems appropriate.  In Reloaded he is confident and arrogant, but in Revolutions he is a man struggling to regain his faith.  His character might have been a representation of John the Baptist in the first film, but in the second and third installments, he is likened more unto Peter.  And Keanu?  Well, he is The One.  (Won’t that girl be happy I said that?)

Obviously no detail is too small for the Wachowski’s and no stone gets left unturned.  (After all, they did spend two months designing water sprinklers capable of producing “the perfect raindrop.”) The story is wonderful and uplifting, the performances clean, the sound impeccable and the effects stunning.  We have come to expect no less from The Matrix, and maybe that’s the problem.  We just expected way too much.  The way the general public reacted to Reloaded kind of reminds me of the reaction Star Wars Episode I.  No wait… maybe not.  Episode I did introduce us to Jar-Jar Binks.  Okay, so we had every right to be disappointed about that one, but Jada Pinkett-Smith is no Jar-Jar Binks.

I’ll give Reloaded the mediocre rating of RENTAL.  As for Revolutions, it’s a tough call but I’ll go ahead and give it all I have to offer—HOT DATE.

There is a scattering of some profanity in the movie and one questionable scene that takes place inside what appears to be an underground S&M club.  As with the first two films, most of the violence is cartoon-like, but a couple of the deaths are mildly gruesome and quite bloody in this one.  As rated R films go, this one is relatively mild.  

As for the content...

Revolutions

There is a scattering of some profanity in the movie and one questionable scene that takes place inside what appears to be an underground S&M club.  As with the first two films, most of the violence is cartoon-like, but a couple of the deaths are mildly gruesome and quite bloody in this one.  As R-rated films go, this one is relatively mild.  

The Animatrix  

Some of this is hardcore Japanamation and I wouldn't recommend it to mainstream Christian audiences.  Most of the segments are violent and some are gory.  However, a couple of them are thought provoking.  Certainly not for children.

Reloaded

More profanity than the 1st and 3rd installments combined.  There is one ten-minute sexual scene with both partial and full nudity in a series of rapid cuts.  It also contains a great deal of sensuality.  Cartoon-like violence.