The Informant!

'The Informant!' tells the incredible by-way-of ridiculous true story of an Archer Daniels Midland executive who, in 1992, became an all-too-willing informant for the F.B.I. about suspicious activity within it - the country's largest producer of food and grain additives. Over the course of the next several years, the agents in charge would unravel a seemingly endless web of illegal activities and cover ups. Kickbacks and extortion claims. Moles and rats. But the most intriguing thing our agents uncover is the source of all this never-ending information: Mark Whitacre.

'The Informant!' earns the extra exclamation point at the end from it's characterization of Whitacre, a man whose vast intelligence and sense of self-importance far exceeded his grip on reality. We hear all this via voice-over. I hesitate to use "voice-over narration" as his thoughts rarely have anything to do with the considerable events displayed on the screen. No matter how in-over-his head he gets, he's just too preoccupied by random facts about the ways of just about everything in the world. This doesn't catch up to his reality until the film's heartbreaking resolution; up until which, they provide some of the movie's best laughs. Whitacre is played by Matt Damon, who again utilizes his gift for playing characters whose special gift is lying. Very much like his work in 'The Talented Mr. Ripley' and 'The Departed', he here slides gracefully into the role of a bullshit artist who covers up his bullshit with nervous energy and grinning enthusiasm. He's a very long way from Jason Bourne here; just as much a chameleon as always.

Director Steven Soderbergh, hot of the heels of his four hour biopic of Che Guevera, also continues to excel in disappearing behind every new project he takes on. He treats 'The Informant!' as part paranoia-thriller farce, part Coen brothers satire of Americans, and part Peter Sellers spy spoof. Every new city we're taken to is introduced in giant, purple letters and every secretive act is balanced by the 'awe-shucks' nature of rural Illinoisans. The only thing immediately identifiable to Soderbergh is a strong sense of light. Sunshine burns through the windows and interior shots seem to be use little to no non-diagetic lighting. Technically, Soderbergh's greatest strength though is his feel for life in the midwest. The bad clothes, the soft people, the haircuts, the accents - not bad for a guy from Louisiana. Soderbergh even resists the urge to drool over what scenery there might be, instead favoring the simple front yards and monotonous work places. His biggest failure though is Marvin Hamlisch's over-the-top score. There's enough going on here to know that this is a comedy; the elevator muzak, Fellini-esque-nightmare score just feels as if they're forcing it on us.

But all this pales in comparison to the enigma that is Mark Whitacre. Soderbergh greatest success is setting up a conspiracy plot to hook us in, only to have us enthralled in the mind of a truly unique character. Everybody loves a great story, but EVERYBODY loves a great protagonist. I can think of a few actors who could've pulled this off. But I can't think of any who could've pulled it off this well. Look out for a cameo from Biff.

Extract

The middle class is ridden with idiots: giggling, teenaged metalheads, borderline-retarded co-workers, painfully plain neighbors with few things as important as their lawns, and endlessly condescending bosses. As Mike Judge takes them on with each movie, even our protagonists aren't spared a boring plainness. They're watered-down, exhausted, just as painfully average as the people they can't stand to be surrounded by. In his latest, 'Extract', these shoes are filled by Jason Bateman's extract factory owner. His wife won't put out, his employees think they're all more special than each other, and his neighbor won't leave him alone. The factory he once took such pride in is now nothing more than that, a factory; and selling it feels like his one-way ticket out of mediocrity. But a beautiful con-artist, and testicle-removing freak accident, and a local celebrity attorney derail his escape plan. But that's the least of his worries. Bateman's confidant and local bartender (a never better Ben Affleck) drugs him into a stupor and convinces him to hire a giggolo to seduce his wife - thereby making it okay for him to sleep with the new hottie at work. Unfortunately, the young lothario turns out to be the simplest resident in simpleville and ends up falling for his wife.

Where Judge's best features were set in worlds that said as much as its characters and stories, 'Extract's feels like little more than an excuse to put a lot of great actors in funny situations. Judge has long since said what needs saying about the soul-destroying banality of the working class - now it just seems like his favorite setting for a lot of funny missteps. And are they still funny? Well, for the most part; and thanks to flawless casting. Jason Bateman again masters the straight man routine, which is aided by a phenomenal supporting cast; including an again unrecognizable Clifton Collins Jr., a perfectly cast Dustin Milligan, and a non-stop Matt Schulze. Rest assured, you will laugh. But you've probably already guessed what you're in for. Mila Kunis just keeps getting hotter.

Film Vs. Film: 'Infernal Affairs' and 'The Departed'

After much (slacking), I finally saw 'Infernal Affairs', the film which Martin Scorcese would later remake as 'The Departed'. Any remake or adaptation will always beg the inevitable question : Which is better? These two are a rare example when both films are equal parts success and failure. The plot is suspense concentrate: a gangster has a mole in the highest levels of the city's police force, while the police has an informant in the highest levels of the gangster's cartel. As the two become aware of each other, they find themselves in a race to see who can rat the other out before they do the same to him. In such brilliant hands, both these adaptations come alive to endlessly exciting results. Predictably though, they also fall under the weight of their own environments.

'The Departed' boasts a superior sense of danger which, inevitably, leads to greater sense of suspense (rhymes, deal with it). Scorcese is just being good old Scorcese when he cranks up the bloodshed, and Jack Nicholson is just being Old Jack when he chews the scenery. Nicholson emerges as the superior gangster here. As charismatic as Eric Tsang was, Nicholson helps pump up the tension as a man at the end of his rope and with little to lose. You wouldn't want to be Leonardo DiCaprio's undercover officer. Let me preface by saying that I think Tony Leung is one of the most subtly expressive, quietly powerful actors in the world today. But here, I have to go with DiCaprio. His character is truly a man on the verge. He pops pills, he has constant headaches, and he knows he's perpetually an inch within his life at all times. He plays all this with his usual intensity and a permeating sadness over the lack of options in his life. Tony Leung's role is too charming, too flirty, we don't really feel enough sense of danger. Scorcese's hot shot, Boston police force is also all loud, brash testosterone. They swear like fucking sailors, they give each other shit, and they play the case as one where losing is not an option. This aided in no small part by Alec Baldwin and Mark Wahlberg who provide some of the film's best moments. These are characters that don't really exist in 'Infernal Affairs'.

What Scorcese doesn't have though is Christopher Doyle, who manages to make most films he shoots look pretty amazing (See the parking garage scene and the final, rooftop confrontation between Tong Leung and Andy Lau). And though 'Infernal Affairs' isn't edited by Thelma Schoonmaker, it does share the the same tension of being pulled back and forth between both sides of the law. Both Andy Lau and Matt Damon do an equally good job of playing their moles as smarmy pieces of shit. With their shit-eating grins and cock-sure attitude, it's quite satisfying watching them get closer and closer to being exposed.

Probably the only thing really hurting both films is their insistence on making us understand something so blatantly obvious. For 'Infernal Affairs', it's the seemingly desperate attempt to make you feel sad over the loss of a character. There's always absurd, black and white flashbacks and weepy music. For 'The Departed', the never-ending quest to make you understand that 'THESE PEOPLE ARE OF IRISH DESCENT!!!! THIS IS BOSTON!!!! THEY HAVE BOSTON ACCENTS!!!!!! IRISH!!!! IRISH!!!! IRISH!!!!!" There is surely some lesson in an Irish code of street honor or some shit, but after having their Irishness pounded into our skulls, you just want them to rot in Mick-HELL (even Nicholson's last stand has him in a t-shirt that only says "IRISH" on it. And somebody (me) needs to send Scorcese a mix CD. Nobody needs to hear 'Gimme Shelter' in one of his movies ever. again.

Final Verdict: Tie

Cassavettes

Is it just me, or is John Cassavettes remembered and revered for all the wrong reasons? His commitment to realism at all costs helped usher in a new era of American cinema and set a new standard for taking the language of film out of the hands of Hollywood and into the hands of the people. Good for him. But watching most of his work, I can't get past this overwrought sense of self-indulgence. So much of the time, these actors (great as they are) come off as nothing more than actors, and their conversations feel like those of actors indulging their own random impulses. Improvisation is great if it takes the film somewhere, but otherwise it's just watching a bunch of actors jerking themselves (and occasionally each other) off. If this is realism, I'm living in a movie.