At The Video Store: 'American Astronaut'

Part 'David Lynch', part 'Star Wars', part 'La Jette', part Fosse - 'American Astronaut' is fantastic work of art. Though heavily-indebted to 'Eraserhead's stark, black and white images and deadpan humor, this is a world completely unto itself; the work of a singularly unique vision. Cory McAbee is 'American Astronaut's Vincent Gallo, without a fraction of the vanity. He writes about 95% of the film's bare-bones rock score and musical interludes, directs, stars as the film's lead, and does as many odd jobs imaginable (as the credits suggest). Like Lynch's breakthrough, many of the film's scenes go on for an uncomfortably long time - but follow their own wonderful logic to the point where you don't want them to end. The actors are all so convincing as players in this wonderful world that you can't imagine them being actors. Rocco Sisto especially dazzles as Professor Hess, the film's villain who seems little more than dangerously lonely on his seemingly never-ending birthday.

There's so much here, but trust me; this is a movie to walk into blind - a world so alive with humor, music, wonderfully stark imagery, and childlike ruminations on space. Find me this soundtrack on vinyl and I'll love you hard.

Drive

In the realm of pop music, the last decade will sadly be remembered as the decade of reunions, reissues, and rehashing. The best tours were largely by bands reuniting and playing the catalogues of their youths. The best records out were reissues of records that had an average age of twenty years old. This decade finds this depressingly contagious trend infecting Hollywood. Like watching MTV become COMPLETELY taken over by reality television, Hollywood's bread and butter has been remakes or films that are blatantly referencing others. This month's 'Drive' is guilty of the latter; but I don't care, because it's referencing exactly the kind of film I grew up on, exactly the kind of film that made me fall in love with movies, exactly the kind of film I miss. And its thinly-veiled. At one point, Albert Brooks' gangster tells Ryan Gosling's Driver how he met their mutual acquaintance: "We used to make action movies together in the '80s". The music is all sentimental 80's pop (done by some modern French group), the cars are all vintage, and the font in the opening credits is directly referencing 'Into The Night', 'Risky Business', and 'To Live and Die in L.A.'.

The story will not be blowing anyone away, its a classic nail-biter: amateur criminal gets in over his head and accidentally ends up taking on the mob alone. Ryan Gosling is our hero, a man with no name who works as a mechanic by day, a stunt driver in his downtime, and a getaway driver by night. Soon he falls for his pretty young neighbor and her young son. Just as their relationship is about to evolve, her husband returns from prison and brings trouble home with him that threatens to hurt everyone. When The Driver offers his getaway services and everything goes terribly wrong, he ends up stuck with mob money that they refuse to take back peacefully.

From here, the Driver's character opens up a whole other side to him which is 'Drive's biggest movie reference, 'Taxi Driver'. Like Travis Bickle, he's a quiet man with the mysterious past who roams the streets, desperately needing to let the violence within him get out. There is a considerable suspension of reality as the Driver suddenly has the goods to kill with the power of a mercenary and instinctively handle himself in these brutal situations. But Gosling recently described 'Drive' as "a fairy tale and a myth". His lone-wolf is truly something out of a western. He says little, is close to no one, and yet manages to seduce an everyday, working class mom. I guess its best to just enjoy the ride and drink in the ambiance.

This will be easy to do as 'Drive' was made by a Dane who shoots with the eye of a foreigner's loving gaze at the American landscape (see also 'Paris, Texas', 'Bad Lieutenant - Port Of Call: New Orleans'). Very much like Michael Mann's 'Heat' and Christopher Nolan's 'Memento', Nicolas Winder Refn's 'Drive' is an L.A. movie: a modernist film noir that takes the viewer through the endless sprawl of Los Angeles. The twinkling skyscrapers at night, the web of freeways, the palm trees lurking in the background, and the piece of shit strip mall culture are all front and center here. There's even ominous, pulsating ambient tones throughout, compliments of Cliff Martinez. But few L.A. movies have half of Refn's style. He loves his slow motion tracking shots (which he uses to great effect in a sequence near the end), lights many of his interiors with a golden tinge or a blinding sense of the sunlight outside, and even uses 'Point Blank' style jump-cutting. But none of these will leave half the impression that his violence will. Often totally unnecessary, the bloodshed will run down the aisles of the theaters. Europeans often make us look like softies.

'Drive' is part gangster-drama, part car chase thriller, part western, part L.A. noir. Whatever you take out of it, its remarkable in its own right and very much worth catching in the theater. Great to see Albert Brooks here.

Revenge Of The Nerd

David Fincher's 'The Social Network' is part revenge story, part courtroom drama, part "rise/fall" success story, and part commentary on the new millenium's new kind of young internet entrepreneur. Fincher and screenwriter Aaron Sorkin paint Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg as an angry reject, a tireless workhorse, a backstabbing friend, and a condescending genius. "You're not an asshole, Mark", Rashida Jones's sympathetic attorney tells him. "You just try so hard to be". Zuckerberg's rage, according to Sorkin (who adapted the script from Ben Mezrich's novel), seems to stem from what we could safely assume is a lifetime of social rejection. He's unattractive, hyper-focused on his academic career, uncool, and surrounded by the beautiful people at Harvard.

'The Social Network' opens with Zuckerberg getting dumped by his cute girlfriend after he spends their time at the campus watering hole condescending to her and steering every conversation in the direction of his fixation on getting excepted into an elite, fraternal brotherhood. Genuinely shocked, he immediately walks to his dorm to commence his revenge: a website rating the hotness of the girls at all regional colleges. The development of this site is shown in a montage interspersed with the kind of elite, sexy frat party Zuckerberg would never get invited to. The instant popularity of this site crashes Harvard's entire network in one night, and gains him instant notoriety. He is soon approached by a pair of twin brothers to help them develop an elite social networking site for Harvard's beautiful people. These brothers, the Winklevoss's, are just the kind of Harvard elite that make Zuckerberg feel so unwanted, so unattractive, so marginalized. The kind of guys that his now ex-girlfriend would love to end up with. The kind of guys he would love to destroy by stealing their idea. His legend begins.

The tale of Zuckerberg's rise is told through an initially disorienting flashback arc, where we are at first disoriented over being at multiple depositions, then thrust back at Harvard watching Zuckerberg quickly expand and develop his idea while dodging the Winklevoss's; who slowly learn that their big idea has been robbed by someone smarter. As the film picks up speed, 'The Social Network' becomes a flashback arc explaining why Zuckerberg is being sued by both the Winklevoss's, as well as his best friend and co-Facebook creator, Eduardo Saverin. Though disappointing in its redundancy, it helps Fincher and Sorkin tell an exciting story of the dubious rise of the 21st century entrepreneur: young, smart, and confined to a computer.

Fincher leaves the task of bringing a character like Zuckerberg to the screen with the indie rock-Jew nerd of the day, Jesse Eisenberg. Eisenberg plays Zukerberg like he plays every other character, just like himself - and it works beautifully. His awkward, nervous speaking patterns suit the role of a smarmy, condescending genius; and he doesn't look at all like the kind of guy who gets girls. He succeeds most at being himself, yet managing the face of a young man desperately trying to balance the endless stream of thoughts going through his head. Justin Timberlake continues to redeem his chatchery with another outstanding performance as Sean Parker, the equally nerdy yet far more charming brain behind the rise and fall of Napster. Timberlake's natural charisma suits him well as the guy who dazzled Zuckerberg and helped him make Facebook the cultural standard for social interaction it is today. It also beautifully sets up Parker's addiction to the excesses of success and his resulting, ungraceful exit from the Facebook empire. But the film's best performance comes in the form of Andrew Garfield, who plays Eduardo Saverin as the film's most sympathetic character. Fresh from Harvard, he tries to manage Facebook's business end by the books. Sadly, he falls victim to Zuckerberg's revenge scheming for all the social graces he had that Zuckerberg wasn't blessed with; and can't keep up with this new kind of entrepreneurship.

A few dazzling sequences and his trademark dark-lighting aside, Fincher wisely puts his usual flashiness down here to let the story tell itself; and the results make an otherwise dire story a lot of fun. 'The Social Network''s saddest success is its examination of an intellectually bankrupt generation; a generation with the resources and the smarts to do anything, but with too little inclination to do more than share music and socialize online. People like Sean Parker and Mark Zuckerberg have a gift, but grow up in a time when instant gratification is more important than systematic change. Facebook is cultural phenomenon which crosses generation gaps and keeps people in touch who otherwise wouldn't be, but it also opens the door to people's subconscious inclination to spend more time with their virtual existence and less time with their physical one. The further online social networking progresses, the more Orwell's dystopia seems possible. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to check in to let EVERYONE know where I am.

Only In Dreams

To say that Christopher Nolan is the director of his generation may not be too far off the mark, but also may not be entirely true. He is gifted with BIG ideas, and blessed with the comfort of budgets BIG enough to make them come to life. It's almost funny to imagine what Nolan's films would have been before the days of C.G.I. But, if I dare, I think they might have been better (as were his first two features). Because, without all the BIG impressions, he would've put more into his screenwriting than he often does, and films like his latest, 'Inception', would feel just a little more complete. All of Nolan's themes are present here: the layered narrative arc, the dead wife, paranoia, the unreliable narrator, inescapable memories, and the unforgettable closing shot. He may be the director of his generation, but 'Inception' isn't quite his masterpiece.

This is all the more unfortunate given the immense secrecy surrounding it's details prior to release. Nolan reportedly had men hand-deliver the scripts to each and every member of the production for supposed fear of his idea leaking out. Considering how easily rumors and gossip get out, this would make for some pretty clever promotion. 'Inception' picks up with Leonardo DiCaprio washed up on a remote ocean beach to be met with Japanese-speaking soldiers wielding automatic weapons. He is soon taken into a womb-like room and sat across a giant table from a decrepad old man. He is then suddenly tuxedo-clad amongst a James Bond-style cocktail party along with fellow party-guest-with-no-good-intentions Joseph Gordon-Levitt. A botched heist sequence quickly thrusts them into a low rent hotel room overlooking a third-world street rife with explosions and chaos. The setting unravels and unravels to reveal both DiCaprio and Levitt as a new kind of 21st century thief that manipulates the dreams of their victims to get whatever valued pieces of information needed to rob them in real life. Ken Watanabe soon hires them to extract a combination safe from the mind of the heir to a competing corporation. Once inside his mind, they take him through layers and layers which all look like different settings to a James Bond movie (seriously, he should definitely take on that franchise when he's finished with 'Batman' ). There are Matrix-style fight sequences in glamorous hotels; rain-soaked city street shoot outs; car chases; and even a fantastic, machine-gun shooting ski chase! If these gun-toting bad guys are the heir's subconscious, then he spends most of time playing video games. Of course, things go awry; and the team of dream hackers are left in a race against time and DiCaprio's damaged subconscious.

Nolan handles this all masterfully. The action sequences are never short of breathtaking, and his usual blend of handheld and steady cams continues to suit his huge productions. He obviously enjoyed Michel Gondry's 'Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind'. Dreams are displayed as worlds that dramatically crumble around us as they come to an end, and are the only place our protagonist can be with the lost love of his life. DiCaprio continues his reign as the leading man of his generation. A skilled actor with great hair and a obnoxious voice, he manages to do little more than carry these over-sized blockbusters. The real charisma here comes in the form of Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Looking like a dapper magician, he manages to be both the action star and the man smart enough to pull all the strings. Along with Cillian Murphy, Ken Watanabe, and Michael Caine; they both do well to lead this year's most impressive international cast. But for all the talent involved, all of Nolan's movie magic, and especially all the hype; 'Inception' is as much a remarkable achievement as it is a forgettable film.

From Aan's CD Release Show At Holocene. Portland, Or

Greenberg

"Hurt people hurt people". Like some kind of psychological pun for beginners psychology students, this is the best possible way to explain the Noah Baumbach subject. Frustrated with the world, they lash out at any and every one in their path. Baumbach's latest, 'Greenberg', puts us right back in his sadly comic world. This time, though, its a lot easier to go there. The element of tragedy is downplayed and we finally feel more comfortable laughing at these people. 'Greenberg' also marks something of a technical achievement for Baumbach. He has at last put his fondness for shaky, vertigo-inducing camerawork and random jump-cutting behind him (or, at least aside for now) and has crafted a film that can both put you in the room without making you puke and travel through time without the impulses of an artist who often seems as attention starved as his subjects.

Baumbach goes west with 'Greenberg' to tell the breezy tale of of Ben Stiller's ex-musician - turned carpenter who's come back to Los Angeles from Brooklyn to watch his brother's house and dog while he's in Vietnam. As he likes to say to people, "I'm trying to do nothing right now". So he spends his days building a dog house, writing letters of complaint to just about every institution he comes into contact with, and trying to re-connect with the band he broke up and the girlfriend who all but forgot about him. Aiding in his day-to-day life is Florence, his brother's assistant who soon falls for Greenberg's...charm? This is really Baumbach's only real shortcoming - what the fuck does Florence see in Roger Greenberg? This seems like the kind of romantic subplot that can only be written by male screenwriters (Cameron Crowe, Vincent Gallo): sweet, intelligent girl falls for abusive, self-absorbed prick; only because she seems to be his best shot at redemption. It's the kind of romance that seems to serve only the man, the kind of romance that seems could only be written by men. Fortunately, Florence is the quintessential lonely, L.A. girl. Very much like 'Shopgirl''s Mirabelle, Florence is the classic sensitive girl who gets lost in the sprawl of L.A.: beautiful, but somewhat awkard; creative, but not terribly talented; smart, but prone to bad decisions. It's all thanks to Greta Gerwig's effortless turn that makes Florence such a welcome part of the film.

But the real joy here is the more than welcome combination of Noah Baumbach and Ben Stiller. Stiller has always been the king of awkward, its nice that he's finally found a filmmaker that showcases what I refuse to believe is anything less than a totally natural sense of passive aggressive confrontation. I mean; come on, can he really be THAT good? He takes just about any exchange and turns it into either a standoff or a completely one-sided conversation. It's nice to see him looking a little more like himself. In either smoke and mirrors-type costume fittings or a significant weight loss, Stiller has finally put away his biceps and looks a lot more like himself in slightly over-sized T-shirts, hoodies, and a slightly mod haircut. It's a flawless performance, one that he'll surely be remembered for.

Baumbach must be listening to a lot of Paul McCartney as 'Admiral Halsey' makes a drunken cameo and the only distinguishable score seems like some sort of take on 'Singalong Junk'. Like everything else in the film, it works for me.

A Single Man

Fashion designer Tom Ford adapts Christopher Isherwood's novel, 'A Single Man', into an impressive directorial debut. Of course, being a fashion designer, I guess he can't help creating something without thinking about how people are going to look in them. Anyway, the visual aspects of filmmaking take center stage here, as we are once again transported back to the early 1960's. This time, the setting is Los Angeles, and George has just awoken from what we can assume is another in what must be a long line of dreams about his dead lover. As pristine as his house is, and as coveted as his job as an English professor might be, everything around him is little more than a memory of the lost love of his life. Quietly, he decides this will be his last day on Earth.

Surrounding George's final day is a world holding it's breath over the Cuban Missile Crisis. A final and sudden lecture on living in fear inspires an eager (and ridiculously good-looking) young student who's suddenly desperate to open up to George. George's other interactions on his last day are pleasant enough. He flirts with a (ridiculously good-looking) Spanish hustler outside a market; he has a drunken heart to heart with his old friend, Charley (a ridiculously good-looking Julianna Moore); at her posh house across the street; he even hugs his maid (obviously for the first time). But for all his amiability, he's merely masking immense pain and dealing with constant reminders of his dead lover.

'A Single Man' owes a great debt to Wong Kar Wai's 'In The Mood For Love'. There's slow motion shots set to aching strings, dapper-looking men masking pain, stylish suits and dresses, and colors bleeding in every frame. This is where Ford succeeds most. His sense of not only framing, but color and costumes gives 'A Single Man' the kind of surreal theater that made Francis Ford Coppola's recent (and sadly over-looked) 'Tetro' such a pleasure. It's hard to take it all in without thinking of 'Zoolander', but it's even harder not to be affected by it.