Earl Brooks (Kevin Costner) is a beloved family man, a respected businessman,
and also a feared serial killer. He’s not been killing anyone for two years now,
thanks to the wonders of the twelve step program (I wonder how that making
amends part worked in his case). However, his second personality, one Marshall
(William Hurt), representing director Bruce A. Evans’s fear of letting Kevin
Costner simply act a man with two very different sides to his
personality, does talk him into beginning another murder spree. Alas, some
idiot, let’s call him Mr Smith (Dane Cook), has photographed Earl doing the deed
through a window and is now blackmailing the serial killer into killing a random
person with him, for Mr Smith desperately wants to know how that feels. And that
would probably be the plot for an at least half sane movie, but since this
thing’s about as deranged as its protagonist, there are various sub- and side
plots awaiting your pleasure, apart from the Dexter-style dubious joy
of seeing how Earl’s going to get away with it all.
So, we also spend quite a bit of time with the Detective hunting Earl, one
Tracy Atwood (Demi Moore); we spend even more time with the divorce troubles her
greedy husband – she’s not just a cop, she’s also a rich heiress, you see – gets
her into. And then there’s the killer couple who is trying to take vengeance on
her. And her breaking all the rules. Earl is going to involve himself in all of
this business, because why the hell not?
Because that’s clearly still not enough PLOT for a single movie, meet Earl’s
daughter Jane (Danielle Panabaker). Jane has left college for reasons she isn’t
willing to explain, and now wants to work for Daddy. Turns out she is pregnant
(and we learn that serial killer Earl is against abortion). Then it
turns out she has probably murdered someone at school with a hatchet, and Earl
has to worry that she has inherited some of his little mental problems, and try
to fix her little problem without her noticing.
Also also, Earl might want to commit suicide in the most complicated manner
ever devised, or perhaps not. Who knows?
I believe these are more or less all of the sub and side plots Mr.
Brooks throws at its audience. If all of this sounds like total nonsense to
you, you’ve got the film right. Obviously, it’s trying to milk the automatic
respect a lot of people have for actors like Costner playing a bad guy for all
it is worth, but it is permanently undercutting this by having so much plot
business to take care of, Costner has little time to do any actual character
work. That’s certainly not helped by the idiotic decision to give him another
half portrayed by a different actor, which turns what should be an internal
struggle into lots of expository dialogue, or scenes of the film gloating at how
people not Costner can’t see William Hurt!
The funniest thing about the whole affair is that director/co-writer Evans
presents all this bullshit with the grand gesture of somebody making a deep and
thoughtful film about a terrible human being, wilfully pretending that this is
not a cartoon, and that we learn a lot about the human condition here. Of
course, if you watch the film as the cartoon about a bedraggled serial killer
haunted by the horrors of plotting it actually is, it becomes rather brilliant,
with stupid twists and idiotic new sub-plots coming so fast and furious, it’s
impossible for me to watch this (or just think about it), and not fall into
rather regular fits of the giggles. The film’s educational, too, in so far as we
learn that there’s no genre that can’t be made hilarious by the simple
application of all the plots ever.
Showing posts with label dane cook. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dane cook. Show all posts
Sunday, December 8, 2019
Sunday, February 21, 2016
400 Days (2015)
Warning: there will be spoilerage, or I couldn’t praise a part of the film
that deserves praise
Prospective astronauts for a commercial company with big plans Emily (Caity Lotz), Theo (Brandon Routh), Bug (Ben Feldman) and Dvorak (Dane Cook) have agreed to go on a 400 day simulation of deep space flight. They’re going to be buried in a fake space ship below a field, tested by psychologist Emily and confronted with various “surprises”, with no contact to the outside world except for their mission control.
Things don’t go off to a good start, though, for Emily has broken up her engagement to Theo just a few days before the beginning of the experiment, which is totally how you do a psychological experiment, obviously. The alternative wouldn’t have been much better either, with Emily tasked to analyse her own damn fiancée. But I digress.
After that bad start, things become even worse when our heroes soon lose any contact to mission control during some very dramatic shaking of their ship. Nerves become increasingly frayed, Dvorak demonstrates a tendency towards violence and paranoia, and the rest of the team isn’t much more stable either, with hallucinations and other fun stuff abounding. One would expect the would-be astronauts to start killing each other soon, but things take a more peculiar turn when a stranger (whom the characters and the audience first take for a hallucination) manages to scratch his way into the ship, looking half dead, malnourished and ill.
One of the oldest yet still loved (because it actually works pretty well when you know what you’re doing) tricks in the low budget movie director’s (and writer’s) book is to take a couple or two characters, put them into an isolated, cramped environment, and hopefully let the sparks fly. The approach is cost-conscious, it provides a filmmaker with the opportunity to show his skills at building suspense with comparatively simple methods, and it keeps a film from making promises it just can’t deliver on while pushing it to concentrate on only a handful of actors in an intimate space.
This approach can – and does more often than I care to remember indeed does – still go wrong, of course: the wrong acting approach can kill this sort of thing stone dead, the dialogue can be too stilted or too dumb, and the needed concentration can bring out directorial flaws in a particularly stark fashion.
Director and writer Matt Osterman’s 400 Days turns out to not have any of these problems, and is indeed a textbook demonstration of how to do the whole “isolated people go at each other’s throats” thing economically. Even better, Osterman changes up the formula about midway through and lets his characters emerge from their prison into a small piece of a world that has catastrophically changed while they were away. Unless, of course, their emergence is still part of the experiment, something that is given further probability by the plain strangeness of the end of the world they find themselves surrounded by: eternal darkness, the downright weirdness (and potential homicidal mania or cannibalism) of the survivors they encounter, and so on, and so forth. Thanks to its weirdness (and some logistical problems in the script) it would be rather more difficult to believe in this world outside without that doubt in the reality of the characters’ surroundings or in their sanity, but because Osterman plays it as he does, we get the best of both worlds: a world that is feeling wrong, and a reason why it might feel wrong.
In this regard, I found myself also pretty happy with the half open – there are enough bits and pieces spattered around to at least provide enough data for a good guess to what’s actually supposed to be going on – ending. Blankly stating on of the two possibilities of what has happened would make it sound utterly preposterous but keeping it elegantly open to a degree of interpretation will convince a viewer her favoured explanation is actually the right one. And the right explanation can’t be preposterous, obviously. Plus, this also absolves the film from having to go through the whole rigmarole of the final five minute plot twist and info dump while dramatic music plays.
The cast does a decent job, too, without any moments of !ACTING! that can break the tension in this sort of film all too well (though we later get some excellent scenery chewing of the right kind by Tom Cavanagh); as always, Lotz and Routh are much more convincing actors when they are not in Arrow.
Osterman’s direction for its part doesn’t call attention to itself, avoiding the temptations to show off without coming across as blunt. Very much how I like this sort of thing to be directed, unless a film goes for an all out psychedelic freak-out.
Which, all in all, leaves me with a clever, entertaining little movie that’ll not rock the world but certainly rocked my evening.
Prospective astronauts for a commercial company with big plans Emily (Caity Lotz), Theo (Brandon Routh), Bug (Ben Feldman) and Dvorak (Dane Cook) have agreed to go on a 400 day simulation of deep space flight. They’re going to be buried in a fake space ship below a field, tested by psychologist Emily and confronted with various “surprises”, with no contact to the outside world except for their mission control.
Things don’t go off to a good start, though, for Emily has broken up her engagement to Theo just a few days before the beginning of the experiment, which is totally how you do a psychological experiment, obviously. The alternative wouldn’t have been much better either, with Emily tasked to analyse her own damn fiancée. But I digress.
After that bad start, things become even worse when our heroes soon lose any contact to mission control during some very dramatic shaking of their ship. Nerves become increasingly frayed, Dvorak demonstrates a tendency towards violence and paranoia, and the rest of the team isn’t much more stable either, with hallucinations and other fun stuff abounding. One would expect the would-be astronauts to start killing each other soon, but things take a more peculiar turn when a stranger (whom the characters and the audience first take for a hallucination) manages to scratch his way into the ship, looking half dead, malnourished and ill.
One of the oldest yet still loved (because it actually works pretty well when you know what you’re doing) tricks in the low budget movie director’s (and writer’s) book is to take a couple or two characters, put them into an isolated, cramped environment, and hopefully let the sparks fly. The approach is cost-conscious, it provides a filmmaker with the opportunity to show his skills at building suspense with comparatively simple methods, and it keeps a film from making promises it just can’t deliver on while pushing it to concentrate on only a handful of actors in an intimate space.
This approach can – and does more often than I care to remember indeed does – still go wrong, of course: the wrong acting approach can kill this sort of thing stone dead, the dialogue can be too stilted or too dumb, and the needed concentration can bring out directorial flaws in a particularly stark fashion.
Director and writer Matt Osterman’s 400 Days turns out to not have any of these problems, and is indeed a textbook demonstration of how to do the whole “isolated people go at each other’s throats” thing economically. Even better, Osterman changes up the formula about midway through and lets his characters emerge from their prison into a small piece of a world that has catastrophically changed while they were away. Unless, of course, their emergence is still part of the experiment, something that is given further probability by the plain strangeness of the end of the world they find themselves surrounded by: eternal darkness, the downright weirdness (and potential homicidal mania or cannibalism) of the survivors they encounter, and so on, and so forth. Thanks to its weirdness (and some logistical problems in the script) it would be rather more difficult to believe in this world outside without that doubt in the reality of the characters’ surroundings or in their sanity, but because Osterman plays it as he does, we get the best of both worlds: a world that is feeling wrong, and a reason why it might feel wrong.
In this regard, I found myself also pretty happy with the half open – there are enough bits and pieces spattered around to at least provide enough data for a good guess to what’s actually supposed to be going on – ending. Blankly stating on of the two possibilities of what has happened would make it sound utterly preposterous but keeping it elegantly open to a degree of interpretation will convince a viewer her favoured explanation is actually the right one. And the right explanation can’t be preposterous, obviously. Plus, this also absolves the film from having to go through the whole rigmarole of the final five minute plot twist and info dump while dramatic music plays.
The cast does a decent job, too, without any moments of !ACTING! that can break the tension in this sort of film all too well (though we later get some excellent scenery chewing of the right kind by Tom Cavanagh); as always, Lotz and Routh are much more convincing actors when they are not in Arrow.
Osterman’s direction for its part doesn’t call attention to itself, avoiding the temptations to show off without coming across as blunt. Very much how I like this sort of thing to be directed, unless a film goes for an all out psychedelic freak-out.
Which, all in all, leaves me with a clever, entertaining little movie that’ll not rock the world but certainly rocked my evening.
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