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Category: Movies

Movie Review: New Year’s Eve

12 January 2012

What Garry Marshall’s Valentine’s Day was to schmaltzy romance, his New Year’s Eve is to schmaltzy resolve. But this formulaic star vehicle isn’t awful, as most critics claim. It is almost as innocuously entertaining, if not as humorous or as well-integrated, as its predecessor. If you can stand the schmaltz, and most people I know can’t (I prefer schmaltz to sleaze), it’s a fine pick for DVD night (though I saw it in a theater). The main attraction is seeing the stars in their elements: Zac Efron (Charlie St. Cloud, High School Musical 3) charming, dancing and flirting with a nerd-woman played by Michelle Pfeiffer; Lea Michele (Glee) doing her glammed up ugly duckling opposite Ashton Kutcher’s cutesy, goofy guy; Hilary Swank (P.S. I Love You) pulling off an earnest and meaningful Times Square ball-drop and making every last moment matter.

Transitions and scenes are too fast and clipped, cliches are everywhere, and important action happens off-screen. Yet screenwriter Katherine Fugate (a full romanticist whom I once interviewed for her first picture, The Prince and Me) has talent and New Year’s Eve, which tracks to the time-sensitive countdown, a construct which is partly why it feels rushed, features poignant scenes and good writing. Besides the frivolous fun of seeing everyone (too many to mention) do their thing, from Modern Family‘s well endowed Sofia Vergara’s update on a Charo routine to Josh Duhamel’s dashing gentleman about town trying to make it into town, there’s the New York City setting, which looks great and works well.

So, despite the drawbacks, such as miscast Jon Bon Jovi, a climax-killing appearance by nanny state/Ground Zero Mosque Mayor Michael Bloomberg and mistaking an act of confidence for a “leap of faith”, New Year’s Eve contains comedy, resolve and a genuine respect for goal-oriented action and the virtue of productiveness. Everyone from artists, nurses and electricians to (ahem) rich businessmen who inherit their wealth and position, and single parents, expectant parents and other various traders and producers of wealth and value, gets their due. As in Valentine’s Day, so do those who serve our nation’s military and those who love them. All that plus beautiful women in stunning dresses and Halle Berry (Monster’s Ball) in the best performance, an all-star cast with good turns by Larry Miller as a tow-truck driver, Swank and Abigail Breslin (Little Miss Sunshine) as a teen-ager and an enunciated version of Auld Lang Syne as you’ve rarely heard it and New Year’s Eve has more than a few pops. There’s a place for light romantic schmaltzy comedy and I like this sort of thing done well, so I hope studios don’t give up on love and lightness in the new decade. Co-starring Katherine Heigl, Sarah Jessica Parker (Sex and the City), Robert DeNiro (Righteous Kill), Seth Meyers, Jessica Biel, with appearances by Carla Gugino, Penny Marshall (Laverne and Shirley), James Belushi, John Lithgow (Rise of the Planet of the Apes), Matthew Broderick, Common (Just Wright), Cary Elwes, Ludacris billed as Chris Bridges, and Alyssa Milano.

Movie Review: Contraband

11 January 2012

The tightly plotted Contraband holds interest throughout, pounding its twisting tale with fists, foul language and the terrible theme that the ends justify the means. Don’t look too closely or think too much if you are in the mood for an action thriller and you’ll appreciate seeing Mark Wahlberg (Boogie Nights) as a former smuggler gone legit who heads to Panama to score millions of dollars in counterfeit bills in order to protect his idiotic brother-in-law from a drug lord played by Giovanni Ribisi (Avatar), who hams it up with relish. No one is particuarly bright in this gangster film, which does take some interesting if totally stretched turns, but it quickens the pulse and keeps moving. Of course, the main characters become positively brilliant when the plot needs them to be, but most of the time the good guys and bad guys stick to the mediocre script, given life by an Icelandic director named Baltasar Kormakur. Wahlberg and Kate Beckinsale (Whiteout) play Mr. and Mrs. Farraday, who try to stay calm while he’s off cavorting in crime just this once and she stays under guard with the kids by his sidekick (Ben Foster, who specializes in these skinny neurotic types). Contraband keeps changing its payload, involving drugs, loot and, cued to its message that crime does pay, modern art which humorously passes for a blotchy old tarp. J.K. Simmons (Juno) as a freighter captain, Diego Luna (Milk) as Gonzalo the crime lord and Lukas Haas (Witness) as a newlywed round out the cast for a brisk, amoral game of gotcha.

Movie Review: War Horse

6 January 2012

Steven Spielberg’s War Horse is best as a war story, with the horse plot falling into the fantasy more than family genre. With a boy named Albert (Jeremy Irvine) and his horse named Joey at the center after a cliched, anti-capitalist set-up in which an evil businessman improbably plots to destroy an entire family and its farm, horse Joey is sold to the British cavalry and sent to the trenches of World War One. The rest of War Horse is a series of vignettes, much like the war stories of the classic animal adventure, Lassie Come Home, and most of them are thrilling, especially the first one, which should have lasted longer. With striking photography, brilliant transitions and some good writing, the tale of a horse during war (based on the stage play) holds promise, and it is good to see overrated Mr. Spielberg return to coherent cinematic adventures after a string of dismal pictures (The Terminal, Munich, War of the Worlds).

“It’s good to be proud when you’ve done something good,” Albert’s long-suffering mother (Emily Watson) tells him in one of the film’s best lines. And the boy, who of course becomes a man, has accomplished quite a bit by the time Joey is on his way to fight the Germans. But with a drunken, Boer Wars veteran father (Peter Mullan) who spends money he doesn’t have and a sadistic property owner who’s simply a straw man to hackneyed save-the-farm fare, Albert’s story lacks sympathy and substance. One’s first emotional investment comes after the start of the horrific waste of life known as the first world war. Joey, a strong, beautiful thoroughbred whose time with Albert may save his life, knows his limits and, as the epic turns toward the French and the Germans, and with Steven Schindler’s List Spielberg at the helm there are rarely any bad Germans, only bad businessmen, his horsepower is tested to a devastatingly graphic extent. War Horse is not for the squeamish, and viewers should know that there are scenes of brutality against animals, though they may be computer-generated.

Much of War Horse is stunning to watch, and its scenes of boys and men at war are particularly affecting, with great performances by Benedict Cumberbatch and Tom Hiddleston as British cavalry officers. A story about an old Frenchman and his granddaughter is also involving, though it wraps too neatly and loops back into other storylines that are too pat. While several themes resonate, the script is uneven and the director is intent on expressing pacifism at the expense of plot development. The result is that when the climax comes, it is simply fantastic and the epilogue falls flat. But War Horse contains strokes of larger-than-life romanticist moviemaking and on balance it is superior to Mr. Spielberg’s last several movies combined. As Emily Watson’s mother says, “I might hate you more, but I’ll never love you less.” Though instilled with his usual blend of faith, horror and good Germans, certain scenes ride with grace and grandeur as only Steven Spielberg can render them.

Movie Review: The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo

20 December 2011

Having neither read the books nor seen previous versions, I came into The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo with limited advance knowledge of the story, so don’t look to this review for a series fan’s estimate. And, as most readers know, my tolerance for blood and gore is extremely low, much lower than most people’s in my experience. I am reminded of that fact with director David Fincher’s taut and disturbing new film.

This is the Sweden-based story of Mikael Blomkvist (Daniel Craig, Cowboys & Aliens), a discredited journalist hired by a wealthy businessman (the always meticulous Christopher Plummer) to solve the dark, familial mystery of a woman who has been missing for 40 years, and a violent young hacker named Lisbeth (Rooney Mara) who figures into the mystery. That’s the upshot, with others in the cast filling in the blanks of a convoluted and mostly engrossing tale of a family that more or less eats its own. There’s Robin Wright as Mikael’s pragmatic, married lover and magazine publisher. There’s Joely Richardson as a London relative who seems to be the only happy and sane member of the industrialist’s Christian and Nazi-dominated family. And there’s the impeccable Stellan Skarsgaard (Thor, Angels and Demons) as one of Mikael’s few allies in solving the puzzle. They are all perfectly cast and directed in this cold, eerie movie about pain.

As the title implies, the emphasis is on damage, not on healing the wounded. I have nothing against tattoos as such, and the movie’s title, taken from the novel by the late Stieg Larsson, suggests the driving purpose of the story: to shock and titillate. After all, the female lead is not a girl at all, she is a woman and the character exists to express the theme about revenge of the damaged; about the cathartic empowerment of inflicting pain on others. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is all about watching it unfold. It is an exercise in voyeurism, plain and simple, the mark of Marin County native Fincher’s career, with deliberately distorted sound and images. The plot is difficult to track and, though it’s in English, the dialogue is at times hard to understand. In spite of this, most of it comes off well, playing masterfully with the senses to achieve the desired distortion.

So The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo begins with a loud, blaring hard rock music video (the score is by Trent Reznor of the nihilist rock band Nine Inch Nails) in which people are depicted covered in thick, dripping black paint and subjected to disgusting things. It’s not a nonstop assault on one’s senses, not at all, and the dark gray look pervades the film as Craig’s journalist goes from suspect to suspect and from old photo to old photo at the rich man’s island estate trying to piece together what happened to someone named Harriet. A cat enters the frigid, musty cottage where he writes as an old man makes an exit from Lisbeth’s life and slowly, calculatingly and effectively the pieces come together. That the finished piece is all utterly preposterous, making Silence of the Lambs (this movie’s godfather in every sense), look like an episode of something on the Disney Channel, is beside the point. What happened to Harriet is horrifying, gripping and sufficiently played out all at once, even if you see it coming, which I did, though that may be because I know firsthand that what happened to Harriet happens to more people than you think.

But there is a crucial sense in which The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is not really about what happened to Harriet or her depraved family or Mr. Plummer’s titan of industry or Mikael and his quest to get his name and reputation back. It is primarily about the woman whose uniquely devastated background, depicted here with graphic exactness, makes her perfectly matched to solving the riddle and avenging herself and the world’s Harriets. And they, the world’s Harriets, terrorized children, as we see from Saudi Arabia and Austria to Penn State and undoubtedly a church, college or house near you, possibly your own, are everywhere. That harsh reality is what’s supposed to make the pornography here, and gratuitous scenes of oral and anal rape, pet and human degradation and sado-masochism, acceptable. For all its moralizing about Old Testament Christians, Nazis and other faith-based followers of this or that including the welfare state (and does that get a well-deserved skewering), the neatly framed trains, bridges and wintry landscapes do not mask the fact that ogling a naked woman being raped, or Daniel Craig in his underwear, is really porn for the sake of porn.

Images of an emaciated person having sex or being raped may shock or titillate, but such scenes do not advance the plot, which you may realize only after the credits roll and it dawns on you that nothing much has moved you because nothing much has mattered but the blood and sex porn and the mystery was window dressing for the peeping. I see why the story and character are involving, I get it, and there’s no denying that The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo has potential to dramatize that damaged people hear and see depravity that the rest of us do not in a compelling form and much of David Fincher’s work here as elsewhere (Se7en, The Social Network, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button) is well done. But, in the words of one character on what draws us to our doom in the film’s best scene, those who go willingly into darkness may live to regret what they experience.

Poster for ‘The Dark Knight Rises’

10 December 2011

With an apparently bitter tone, the Batman franchise by director Christopher Nolan comes to an end this coming summer and Warner Bros. has released the one-sheet pictured at right. If the character depicted is Christian Bale as Batman, he looks larger and the film, shot in Pittsburgh (after corrupt Chicago lost the production due to the city’s taxes and controls), promises to dominate next year’s movies in every way. The poster’s mood, with a broken mask in the foreground amid driving, dreary rain, fits the foul mood of these disintegrated American states. In a word, it’s perfect.

Harry Morgan, 1915-2011

7 December 2011

An American actor who was the son of Norwegian immigrants, Harry Morgan, has died at the age of 96, according to news reports. The man who portrayed Colonel Sherman Potter on the CBS television series M*A*S*H appeared in more than 100 movies, including as the judge in the film adaptation of the stage play Inherit the Wind with Frederic March and Spencer Tracy. For me he’ll be remembered foremost for playing policeman Joe Gannon to Jack Webb’s honorable Sgt. Joe Friday in the TV series Dragnet (1967). The series, based on real cases in the Los Angeles Police Department, was a counterpoint to the rising New Left. Dragnet was a clear, sternly dramatic repudiation of the cultural spread of the Hippies. Mr. Morgan’s Joe Gannon was an observer to the wrongs, caretaker to the victims, comrade to the hero, and a devoted investigator in pursuit of justice with regard to the Hippies’ most vile crimes and moral transgressions.

Though I watched it with my Korean War veteran dad, and found the writing intelligent and the plots often involving and sometimes poignant, I never looked forward to his show M*A*S*H, in which from 1975 to 1983 he played the commander of the 4077th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital unit in Korea during the Korean War. It was always so joyless and depressing and there was a resignation and defeatism about it that reflected the Korean War’s unresolved status and foreshadowed late 20th century American appeasement of our enemies. His character in particular represented pragmatism; the medical unit’s leader embodied the American anti-intellectual.

But Col. Potter was apparently Mr. Morgan’s favorite part, according to an interview for the Archive of American Television, and like his character, the Detroit, Michigan-born actor had a horse named Sophie; he raised quarter horses on a ranch in Santa Rosa, California. After playing varsity football and serving as senior class president, he attended the University of Chicago, where he studied law and theater, and he made his Broadway debut in 1937 in the original production of Clifford Odets’s Golden Boy. He moved to California in 1942, where he eventually signed a motion picture contract with 20th Century Fox. His movies include The Ox-Bow Incident (1943) with Henry Fonda, High Noon (1952) with Gary Cooper and Grace Kelly, The Teahouse of the August Moon (1956) with Marlon Brando and Glenn Ford, Inherit the Wind (1960), in which he played the small-town Southern judge hearing arguments against Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution in the fictionalized version of the Scopes monkey trial, and the grand epic How the West Was Won (1962) with Jimmy Stewart and Debbie Reynolds. In that picture, Harry Morgan portrayed Union Gen. Ulysses S. Grant. He also appeared in Support Your Local Sheriff! (1969) with James Garner and Walter Brennan, The Apple Dumpling Gang (1975) with Tim Conway and Don Knotts and the 1987 spoof of Dragnet featuring Dan Aykroyd and Tom Hanks. Harry Morgan lived in the Brentwood section of Los Angeles.

Movie Review: Hugo

22 November 2011

I can’t say that I’ve ever liked a Martin Scorsese movie. I think my favorite is his feature film, Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore, starring Ellen Burstyn, the basis for the long-running CBS comedy Alice. His 1974 Alice is realistic, involving and driven by the story of a character worth caring about. That or the underrated New York, New York with Robert DeNiro and Liza Minnelli. I also like The Aviator for the focus on an innovator. There’s craftsmanship in each of his movies, from Taxi Driver to The Departed. I respect Mr. Scorsese as an artist; he is one of Hollywood’s best, fully committed to realizing his larger than life vision on screen. Hugo is no exception.

Though it’s better than his most malevolent films, such as the campy, overrated The Departed, this digital 3D children’s movie for Paramount lacks sufficiently developed characters, plot and theme to pull off an engaging homage to the art of moving pictures told through the story of a child. Hugo is mechanical, trying really hard, too hard, with an overbearing score, broadly drawn characterizations and obvious plot points. With blue-eyed Asa Butterfield as the title character, based on a literary story, Ben Kingsley as a grumpy old man and an intelligent girl as partner in mischief, with a pesky policeman and other assorted types in a 1930s Paris train station, the orphan Hugo lives inside the walls fixing clocks, automatons and basically anything with working parts. What works about the story is its sense of conviction about everything, including people, having to have a purpose or sense of purpose. The girl Isabelle (Chloe Grace Moretz) is an instant friend, grasping that it’s OK for boys to cry and ready to indulge in a boy’s adventure with abandon. Together, they chart a course in mapping a mystery that ultimately unfolds and overwhelms them.

What doesn’t work about the story is an overwhelming theme about what it means to create classic moving parts and pictures; the movie is beautifully rendered but achieved at the expense of the children, and Hugo‘s absurdist humor (the actor that played Borat appears as the villain), plodding pace and nonstop music dull the senses and kill any sense of conflict. Despite technically proficient, even thrilling, scenes, such as Hugo attempting a wintry escape from capture, I did not believe the action in this movie was really happening. Hugo is a tale well told but it’s told within a self-consciously developed construct through a purely pictorial fantasy. So it never feels real, let alone emotionally powerful. Though part of the problem is that my 3D glasses weren’t working (apparently, the battery died during the two-hour movie, reminding me why I can’t stand 3D) and the result distorted the picture, Hugo sets itself so strictly upon an idea that it leaves its stock character type, the street urchin, without the necessary requisites for caring about his outcome. The parts are all there, and especially midway through the film, the parts move, often in sequence and syncopation. But Hugo is a movie more about what moves movies than it is a story about a boy, or about the boy within the man, which makes it less than moving.

Movie Review: Outrage

19 November 2011

Stocked with shiny Toyota, Subaru and Mercedes-Benz cars and guns, thugs and stick models, the English-subtitled, Japanese gangster drama Outrage (Magnet Releasing; in select theaters Dec. 2) delivers a seriously gruesome fix of eerie, nonstop blood pornography. Written and directed by and starring Takeshi Kitano, using a screen name, the film’s creator portrays a Yakuza crime boss named Otomo. The 109-minute movie follows numerous gangsters in the ever-changing hierarchy of Japan’s Yakuza crime syndicate as they jockey for power through the use of brute force.

As a study in how Japan’s cultural worship of collectivism survives in today’s world, aided by criminals from Iran and Ghana, Outrage exposes an underworld born of ancient, dark traditions in which grown men decapitate, torture and scream at each other over saké for the sake of nothing. Like totalitarian Moslems or Chicago gangsters, what the players gain is a meaningless, vague sense of approval from a male-dominated collective and a few moments of pleasure with a vacant stick figure once in a while. Of course, there are degrees to which they go to perform their duty to the tribe, and a couple of gangsters don’t seem as terrible as others. But they all serve the gang blindly and struggle to rise or survive in a corrupt, rabid dog-eat-rabid dog world without heroes. Outrage, perfectly malevolent and miserable on its own terms, is a bloody, brutal show of men at their worst.

Interview: Jon Winokur

8 November 2011

Jon Winokur (pronounced winne-kuhr) is a writer’s writer and the author of numerous books on writing and other topics, including The Portable Curmudgeon, Advice to Writers and his newest book, The Garner Files: A Memoir, written with 83-year old actor James Garner. We talked about his books during a recent conversation.

Scott Holleran: How did you approach James Garner as a subject?

Jon Winokur: As the subject, he is there, bigger than life—the subject approaches you. You know that guy up there on the screen and you think he’s a nice guy. Well, he’s even better—and that’s after taking two years of researching his life. He was there. He writes the book for you. Much of The Garner Files writes itself.

Scott Holleran: Is it mostly based on interviews?

Jon Winokur: Yes, with him and with friends and colleagues and quite a few interviews with family members. It’s a wonderful clan, by the way; there’s a certain dignity and honesty about them.

Scott Holleran: So you created the narrative?

Jon Winokur: Yes. It was easy to do because I’ve known him for 25 years. With a lot of famous people, you think you know them and you don’t. But Jim pans out.

Scott Holleran: That’s impressive. You’ve got his tone down just right—

Jon Winokur: —sometimes, I’d find myself putting down a word and saying, ‘oh, no, that’s not a Garner word.’

Scott Holleran: Did you have an outline?

Jon Winokur: Yes, because I had put together an outline for the book proposal, which I had to tweak a little bit. But this is a departure [for me]. I’d never done a memoir or anything biographical. There’s autobiography, there’s biography and there’s memoir. The distinction I make is that autobiography has to cover all the details and a memoir is from the subject’s perspective. A memoir is subjective—and an autobiography strives to be objective.

Scott Holleran: Did you have a theme?

Jon Winokur: I think the theme emerged. I don’t think it’s helpful to say ‘insert scene here’; [the theme] will be organic. A couple of themes emerged. One is his sympathy for the underdog, which informs his work, his personal relationships and his politics. It’s probably unavoidable to point to his being abused as the source of at least some of that empathy.

Scott Holleran: How did you get the job?

Jon Winokur: I published The Portable Curmudgeon in 1987—it was a tiny first printing—and it came out and was doing OK. At that time, someone had suggested that I get an unlisted telephone number because sometimes a writer get some bizarre responses. So I said, ‘why? I’m lonely. Let them call me,’ and one day I got a call and heard, ‘this is Jim Garner. I’m an actor.’ And of course I knew who he was. Then he said, ‘What kind of a curmudgeon has a listed telephone number?’ Apparently, he had been in the hospital and he had been depressed. [Comedians] Bob Newhart and Dick Martin had sent him my book and he said he wanted to thank me because the book had cheered him up. That was that, until about a month later. The phone rings at 9 o’clock at night and a friend told me that [Mr. Garner] was reading from my book on The Tonight Show. It put my book on the map and sales shot through the roof. It in effect gave me a career. He and I kept in touch—he would send wine from his vineyard for Christmas—and about two years ago we were having lunch and I heard myself asking ‘how come you’ve never written a book?’ And he said because he thought no one would want to read it. I thought and thought about it and I wrote this letter and brought out all guns for writing a memoir. His manager called and said OK. I guess he felt safe with me.

Scott Holleran: What’s your favorite line in the book?

Jon Winokur: There’s a line he quotes from Murphy’s Romance, something like, ‘When I’m pushed, I shove.” He doesn’t go looking for a fight. But, by golly, if you wrong him…

Scott Holleran: How did you primarily relate to Mr. Garner—as his friend, observer, partner?

Jon Winokur: As the most extraordinary human I’ve encountered. The things he’s done anonymously for countless people—the endless goodwill—comes up whenever I mention his name. I always get the same response: “Oh, I love him.” In one of the TVQ categories [a measurement of a celebrity’s cultural influence] he’s still in the top ten. He’s wonderfully skilled. He could have been a pro golfer or a pro race car driver, and he has a great intelligence that I don’t think always comes through. Jim’s really good at whatever he chooses to do—the Grand Prix drivers [working on the movie] say he could have raced and beat some of the pro drivers. He’s just an amazingly quick study. He could sit in the makeup chair and learn the script right there. He learned how to memorize lines from his first acting job in [the stage production of] the Caine Mutiny Court-Martial. He played a judge and he had no lines but he was paid by the producer to run lines with Lloyd Nolan and Henry Fonda and he told me that he learned to use the lines as building blocks—building one line on top of the other—and he said the trick is that you don’t go from one to the next without learning the first line. ‘You don’t learn lines,’ he told me, ‘you learn thoughts’. He’s the most easygoing person I’ve ever worked with—he applies his work ethic—and he was always there. The only negative thing he ever said in our two years was when I brought him the [book jacket] cover. He didn’t say anything and, finally, he said, ‘I don’t like it.’ I asked why and he said ‘your name is too small.’ So they made it bigger.

Scott Holleran: Maverick or Rockford Files?

Jon Winokur: Maverick. Because I’m that old—I was ten [years old] when it came on. There was Mad magazine and there was Maverick.

Scott Holleran: What’s your favorite James Garner movie?

Jon Winokur: I’m going to agree with him—The Americanization of Emily [1964]. I love [screenwriter] Paddy Chayefsky’s work. The script and the way Garner handles it is amazing. But the role was a huge departure for him.

Scott Holleran: Did you watch any of the movies together?

Jon Winokur: Yes. We watched a few, such as Skin Game. He likes to watch Grand Prix for the racing. We were watching Support Your Local Sheriff and that’s when he told me he was imitating Henry Fonda in My Darling Clementine when he was sitting with his feet propped up.

Scott Holleran: Are you surprised by the media’s emphasis on the book’s salacious aspects?

Jon Winokur: No. [Pauses] Maybe a little bit.

Scott Holleran: Does it surprise you that Mr. Garner adores The Notebook?

Jon Winokur: Not at all. Because it’s his best work and I think he thinks so. He loved working with [director] Nick Cassavettes and Gena Rowlands and I think it was one of those shoots where everything fell into place. He cried in that movie; it’s one of the few movies he cries in, the others are The Children’s Hour and Promise. He hadn’t planned to do it. He said he was going to take his cue from [Ms. Rowlands]. I think he was a little out of control and it turned out OK.

Scott Holleran: Did you co-write the memoir’s “outtakes”, too?

Jon Winokur: Yes. Those are based on interviews, basically edited versions.

Scott Holleran: Did you meet and interview Doris Day?

Jon Winokur: I talked to her on the telephone. She was amazing. The most amazing was Lauren Bacall.

Scott Holleran: Do you have any other memoirs planned?

Jon Winokur: I have had some nice feedback from people in the [entertainment] industry, and from Simon and Schuster.

Scott Holleran: What is the impetus for Advice to Writers?

Jon Winokur: My first [non-self] published book, Writers on Writing, was a collection I had been amassing since I was 13. Advice to Writers [stems from] my attempt to try to figure out how to write.

Scott Holleran: Any new works in progress?

Jon Winokur: I don’t like to talk about it because when you talk about it, you discharge the energy. I am working on a pre-proposal. I can say it’s non-fiction.

Scott Holleran: Who are your favorite writers?

Jon Winokur: George Orwell. I like the essays on politics and the English language mostly and the short stories, especially Shooting an Elephant. He was on the right side of the Spanish Civil War [against the fascists] but he wasn’t taken in by [their enemies] the Communists. He was right about poverty and capitalism and he lived by his principles—he renounced his modest inheritance, which may be part of the reason he died at age 45. I also like Christopher Hitchens, Joan Didion—just her Zen-like brevity—Kurt Vonnegut, who’s the most magical, whimsical writer. Also Charles Bukowski and Jack Kerouac.

Scott Holleran: Any curmudgeonly thoughts on the late Andy Rooney?

Jon Winokur: I tried to interview him for one of the Curmudgeon books—and he refused, thereby verifying his curmudgeonliness. He served a great purpose—he was a gadfly and he was certainly a curmudgeon. He was 92. I’m sorry to see him go.

Scott Holleran: What’s the difference between a curmudgeon and a cynic?

Jon Winokur: That’s a good question. I think it was Oscar Wilde who said that a cynic knows the price of everything—and the value of nothing. A curmudgeon knows the value of everything. Curmudgeons are offended by the lack of value—they’re fighting the good fight for truth, justice and the American way; their crankiness comes from being disappointed from the lack of quality around them. They are hurt easily—they’re very fragile and they need the misanthropy to protect themselves. In [The Garner Files], Jim calls himself a Tootsie Pop. Hard on the outside, soft on the inside.

Movie Review: Tower Heist

4 November 2011

Though it’s not as overtly anti-capitalist as the Hippies destroying city parks, banks and businesses, Tower Heist starring Ben Stiller and featuring Eddie Murphy roundly mocks the self-made American businessman. But Alan Alda’s replicant of the swindler Bernie Madoff, a rich, white capitalist villain (Hollywood depicts no other type), dupes Stiller’s fancy residential manager and a doorman by their own greed, so at least by the end they bear some responsibility. Neither exactly a comedy nor a caper, Tower Heist sets up a roster of working stiff characters who are wronged by Stiller’s bad investment with the evil/rich/white capitalist. When a few are fired by the boss (Judd Hirsch, the only honest and moral character in the movie), they conspire to rob the evil/rich/white capitalist’s high-rise residence. Directed by Brett Ratner (Rush Hour 3, X-Men: The Last Stand, both of which were nothing great but fine) is not completely offensive. Though one does grow tired of evil capitalist characterizations, Tower Heist hoists a few laughs, aside from some stinkers about a “gauntlet of lesbians”. Alda (M*A*S*H), Hirsch (Ordinary People), Gabourey Sidibe (Precious) as a saucy Jamaican maid and Tea Leoni (Jurassic Park 3) as an FBI agent lift the mediocre plot (the others, including Stiller and Murphy, who’s barely in it, do not). And at least the counterfeit capitalist is shown living in a home with a portrait of a Communist dictator, which, since he steals people’s money, makes perfect sense.