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ZachsMind
Reviews
X-Men: The Last Stand (2006)
Hopefully Not The Last Stand
First off, Kitty Pryde's in this one! She's my favorite since I was a kid, and she finally gets an opportunity to shine that she didn't get in the first two films. In the first two films they teased us by showing Kitty Pryde in cameo appearances. I only wish Bryan Singer had insisted she be more a focus of the films - Kudos to Ratner for doing what Singer didn't. Kitty Pryde IS the X-Men for me, more so than Wolverine or Storm or even Professor X. I was glad to finally get to see her before the trilogy was done.
How can a motion picture production company take forty plus years of fictional history and distill it into three films? Best you can do is scour through the source material, try to figure out what makes the material so darn good in the first place, and pull out the highlights, then remix the best parts into a new creation. You won't get it right, but maybe if you're lucky you'll get it close. The X-Men trilogy gets it VERY close. The trick is to try and whet the appetites of newcomers to the source material, as well as appease the people who have come to expect a certain something from the Marvel-owned meme: "X-Men." I think this film achieves that admirably.
Could it have been better? In terms of dialog and storyline, certainly. What made me shake my head as I watched it was when Magneto takes the San Francisco Bridge and utterly destroys it in order to use it as a transport for his little army in order to get to Alcatraz. Half the people in his army could fly. They coulda just picked up the other half. It was wasteful. They just did it to show off the special effects necessary for destroying a whole bridge and floating it for five minutes on the screen while Ian McKellen hams it up. But hey. It LOOKS great! And Ian McKellen can ham it up like no one can with the possible exception of Peter O'Toole. The special effects in this film are tremendous eye candy, and it's just fun watching a dozen or so amazingly talented actors and actresses chew the scenery and their costumes and the green-screens they faced in order to do more with less. They won't get Oscars for making this believable, but perhaps they should, for it's a tall order. One of the many problems this genre of film making has suffered over the years is the difficulty in making the fantasy of modern vigilantism with extraordinary humans endowed with godlike powers even remotely realistic. This series of films, and The Last Stand in particular, have taken the themes of X-Men and drove them home in a way that's reverent to the source material and perhaps a bit preachy, but not without its bells and whistles and things exploding.
Here's hoping the franchise will now branch out after this trilogy, and allow the production company to focus more in the future on solo films for each major character that give each character a chance to be more than the occasional one-liner. Oh, and I don't know about you but I've had enough of Wolverine. As much as I like the character, there's more to X-Men than him.
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (2005)
This movie is a film
Without question, one can refer to Douglas Adams' Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy as a film. It is a film that can also be called a movie, and a movie that can be called a film. Of all the films in the history of film-making, this film certainly is one.
Die-hard fans of the previous incarnations will no doubt appreciate that many of their favorite bits are included, albeit in abbreviated form. New fans to Douglas Adams will probably not get too lost. This film contains a well structured, if predictably melodramatic plot. The acting is superb. The effects extraordinary. The casting is gifted. The production quality unparalleled to any previous incarnation of the series.
It's funny. It's pretty. It's an entertaining way to waste an hour and a half or so. After the concept of h2g2 was filtered through Hollywood's gauntlet of requirements for Hollywood films, Douglas Adams' Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy manages to actually make some resemblance of sense. This is unfortunate, because what made all the previous incarnations work so well was the very fact they didn't make sense. They were just silly fun. One should not expect this version of the story to be identical to previous versions. One should expect nothing in particular when seeing a new version of this story, but one should expect it to be wacky goofy fun, and for all the wackiness in this version, it just feels too ...pretty. In some ways it's almost perfect. Flawless. Most everything gets tied up in a nice little bow at the end and most if not all previous incarnations never really had an ending. This one has a Hollywood sensibility, which is completely insensible when presenting something so deliciously and irreverently insensible.
It's a very okay film, which is what sadly makes it so terrible.
Austin Powers in Goldmember (2002)
"You want fries with that?" A sequel made to order...
There is what one perceives, and what one receives. If the two mesh, you got a sequel worthy of its predecessor's namesake. Usually sequels pale in comparison to their predecessors. There are very few rare exceptions compared the pile of unworthy swill.
Occasionally a sequel will improve upon the formula of the original (Aliens, Indy & Last Crusade, Back To The Future 2, ST2 Wrath of Khan, Army of Darkness) but more often than not it's the opposite.
Sequels attempt to recreate the success of the past by regurgitating similar plot elements in vaguely innovative ways. The result often falls flat (Star Treks 1, 3, 5 & 9, Indy & Temple of Doom, all the Jaws sequels, Highlander 2, Die Hard 3, Men In Black 2, Ghostbusters 2, Poltergeists 2&3, Weekend At Bernie's 2, the Police Academy sequels, Blair Witch Book of Shadows, anything with Jason, Freddy or Pinhead, etc etc ad nauseum), causing one to contemplate why anyone bothered to financially back such worthless drivel.
Then there's the rare gems. The ones who manage to pull it off. The sequels which are not better or worse than their predecessor, but rather successfully ARE what they claim to be. If you go to a favored restaurant a second time and order the same thing, you won't necessarily want a "new and improved" hamburger unless you specifically ordered that. You want what you got the last time. That's why you came back. Fast food & Hollywood sequels operate under similar principles.
These rare sequels which hit the mark without going over, don't improve upon the formula. They also don't fail to entertain. They ARE the formula. Most noteworthy among these rare gems are the James Bond sequels. The brand "James Bond" is as delicious to some as the thought of a submarine sandwich or a good year of fine wine. One knows what to expect when they see that name, and rarely does an installment of the James Bond franchise disappoint. The Lethal Weapon series of films is another perfect example. Each film can stand alone but are also episodic. They deliver what they promise. Nothing more. Nothing less. If that's what you're in the mood for, pretty much any of the sequels to Lethal Weapon "taste" the same as the original, so you probably will not be disappointed, provided you like that flavor.
I'm not saying this is bad or good. I'm not saying this makes any sequel ART. It doesn't. I'm saying if you liked the first one of these rare gems, you'll like the rest, because they're prepared and delivered to you in much the same way a McDonald's delivers a Big Mac to your hands. They know what works and they stick with it, and give the audience what it wants.
All sequels seek to hit the mark of past glory, and the vast majority fall short. A precious few prove to be more than their name brand advertises and how can one argue against that? It's like ordering the Value Meal and getting it Biggie-Sized for free. Then there's an even smaller percentage that are precisely what you ordered. Goldmember is just such a creature.
If you liked Austin Powers & The Spy Who Shagged Me, you'll like Goldmember. It has something to offer newcomers to the series and also diehard fans of Myers. It's episodic but also stands alone. The casting of Michael Caine is sheer brilliance. Seth Green's given a chance to show his comedic chops. Some of the more juvenile blue humor seems forced and falls flat, but that's ironically part of Myers' charm. He's bucking against this trend I described above, which ironically works to his advantage. Goldmember laughs in the face of the odds stacked against it. It knows its a greedy attempt to rest on the laurels of its predecessors and it basks in that decadence, thus making it even more amusing for its very existence. After all, the Austin Powers films are ultimately designed to make fun of the very concept of sequels, lampooning perhaps the most successful series of films of all: James Bond. So how can it not fail to entertain even when it fails to be worthwhile? It's making fun of itself and every other sequel, good or bad, that's ever been written. Quite a task.
However, the novelty of this parody is wearing off, and the next Austin Powers film will either have to reinvent itself, or fall into repetition in a way that'll make Police Academy 5 look almost like art.
Wet Hot American Summer (2001)
It's a rubbernecking train wreck of a movie.
The film is an obvious attempt to parody the summer camp movie genre which was painfully popular over twenty years ago. It's a bunch of loose-fitting comedic sketches. It probably was really funny on paper, but lost a lot in the production. The pace of the show seems similar to Love American Style, Fantasy Island or Love Boat, and not in a good way (if that's even possible). The film Meatballs did far better satire to this genre back in 1979, and since Meatballs was a screwball comedy satire of summer camps, this movie is a satire of a satire which is a bit over the top. Wet Hot American Summer didn't even need to be written, much less committed to celluloid.
Janeane Garofalo is no Ruth Buzzi, but she's not Garofalo at her best here, either. I can't believe a woman of her comedic talent can't get a better script than this. Just once I'd like to see a director who doesn't fear her tattoos. Her agent should keep her away from any script that would require her hair to get moosed; no matter how funny she thinks it's going to be.
The film is supposed to be bad though. It's making fun of trite plot devices, corny coincidences, flat characterization based on stereotypes and a convolution of too many things happening in a film at the same time and nothing ever actually going anywhere but somehow vaguely attempting to make sense at the end. Oh. And late 70s music. So if that's all they were trying to do, they succeeded. However, where I think one was supposed to be laughing, I just found myself wincing at the screen. This film is a bitter disappointment.
Mitchell (1975)
Any given episode of The Rockford Files is better than this.
Joe Don Baker plays a police detective with an affinity for booze and blondes and not much else. His life is miserable. One finds oneself wondering why anyone would want to tell the story of someone so unhappy and why we the audience are spending 90 minutes of our lives being exposed to his misery.
Despite his lack of personal morals in his own life, and his inability to engender anything more than disdain from his fellow coworkers, somehow Baker has acquired a near zero-tolerance for any criminal behavior among other people. He's simultaneously amoral and noble, and we the audience are left wondering why, because the script never manages to explain it for us. There's very little to love about Mitchell, but Baker manages to muddle through the script nonetheless; not an easy job for any actor. Baker should have received an award for tolerating the terribly written script that was given him.
The film is more like a failed pilot for television than an actual silver screen cop action movie. The plot is difficult to describe without the use of censorable and colorful adjectives. There appears to be at least two different plots going at the same time, and the plot with John Saxton in it starts the film but then peters out about halfway through. The other plot involves Baker sitting outside a rich guy's house because he's somehow involved in drug smuggling, and eventually finding himself being beat up and shot at. He's even accosted verbally by a young child on a skateboard. Attempts at humor abound, but nothing seems to really engender a good laugh. Linda Evans uneventfully plays a prostitute who is hired to make love with Mitchell, and for some strange reason falls in love with him despite the audience's inability to comprehend why.
Mitchell features what is perhaps the slowest car chase in the history of cinema, and that alone is worth watching the film for true action flick fans, if nothing more than to see what film makers should never do. Mitchell acquired a renewal of sorts in the form of Mystery Science Theater 3000 in the mid-90s, when the film was featured as the form of torture used by mad scientists on an innocent Joel Robinson and his lovable robots. This particular episode of MST3K is the turning point of that series, because it's the one where Joel Hodgson left the series and was replaced by head writer Mike Nelson. So all fans of MST3K hold a special place in their hearts for this, the worst cop flick ever.
The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001)
The impossible has been accomplished
It's always something. Either a movie is true to its original source material in such a way that only diehard fans of the original source can properly appreciate the film, or Hollywood trails off from the source material so much hoping to interest a wider audience, and the true fans are left either scratching their heads in puzzlement or screaming at the screen defiantly, and then they're impatiently escorted out of the theater. It can be argued that the Harry Potter series has also found a balance here, but let's be honest: that's for kids. When handled properly, Tolkien's work is not family fare. Prior to Peter Jackson's reach for Lord of the Rings, this balance has been a metaphorical holy grail for producers and directors alike. Perhaps saying such a balance is impossible is a bit of an exaggeration, but it's a rare and precious thing to see it accomplished with any level of competence.
By example I turn to the films based off mythical comic book characters which are often painful to watch for anyone with true appreciation of the source material. Hollywood has difficulty with the idea of costumed vigilanteism. It seems impossible not to be campy about it. So we get Mystery Men or the Batman TV series. Even the most successful attempts like the Superman or Batman films or the more recent X-Men movie barely hold a candle to the original works of such writers and artists as Bob Kane, Simon & Schuster, and Lee & Kirby.
As another example, not until Rob Reiner's delicately woven Stand By Me was any director able to even attempt a Stephen King novel with any measure of balance between source material and Hollywood fancy. Carrie was short-sighted and bland until the last twenty minutes. Stanley Kubrick's version of The Shining was self-absorbed, and had dated itself before it even left the theaters. The Dead Zone was too far out in left field. Firestarter was laughable. Cujo proved that the premise for that book, though great for a book, simply didn't make for an interesting film. Even King himself couldn't get it right when he directed Maximum Overdrive. Since Rob Reiner's version, other directors have had better success. Just as Reiner proved the balance could be found, so here does Peter Jackson.
Tolkien's life's work is not something that can be handled with the same flippancy Hollywood tends to give more modern authors. His writing is both intricate and cumbersome. His style is an acquired taste, and there is much to traverse within it to get it right. Many have tried since 1978, but none have fared well. I feared no one would ever succeed in bringing his words to life on the big screen. This film version of Lord of the Rings has proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that it can be done. Everyone involved in its efforts should be given more than a handful of golden idols as reward. This task was gargantuan, and after watching this nearly flawless film, to my eyes they made it look like it was so simple a child could have done it.
Sir Ian McKellen breathed Gandalf alive and wore the grey robes as if he'd lived in them all his life. Had I been casting, I would have chosen Richard Harris, and I would have been a fool. Now I can see no one but McKellen in my mind's eye performing Gandalf. McKellen made the role his, and gave Tolkien's words the same reverence he would Shakespeare.
Whether one has read all the books of Tolkien or not, they will find this film a grand escape from reality. It's a roller coaster ride and a tranquil, almost euphoric experience all rolled up into one. It has been a long wait to find actors so talented, a director so determined and crew so skilled as to make this come to pass.
It was worth every decade.
Book of Shadows: Blair Witch 2 (2000)
Hollywood totally missed the point
One paragraph in particular below may be seen as a possible spoiler, and I will warn you one more time before you read that far. However, Book of Shadows spoils itself with forward shadowing, cheesy dialogue, blatant misuse of stereotypes, and a host of other problems, before we even address the fact that as sequels ago, this could very well be the worst on record.
I am reminded of Bob and Doug MacKenzie: (played by Rick Moranis and Dave Thomas on SCTV and later the film Strange Brew) Canadian brothers who made a small cable television show called Great White North. In one particular episode, Bob and Doug were discovered by a big network and given a great amount of money to go Big Time. Which they did. And their new show failed miserably. What made their original little cable show so entertaining and enjoyable was lost for all the glitz and glamour of show business. In selling out, they lost what made their show special. The same thing happened here with Blair Witch.
Some may find one or two statements in the following paragraph to be *spoilers*.
Book of Shadows will forever be intertwined with The Blair Witch Project. However, the films do not belong together. Blair Witch was a fictional account about three college students who went into the woods to make a documentary about suspicious legends of the area and never returned. Book of Shadows is a fictional account about five young adults who venture into the woods and drive themselves crazy. Believing the Blair Witch from the first film to be distorting their reality when actually they've just lost their minds, Book of Shadows dismisses Blair Witch as the hoax that it was, and in so doing hasn't a leg to stand on by itself.
Some call Blair Witch Project genius and some call it a fluke, but it grossed over ten times as much money as was required to make it. No matter how you slice it, Blair Witch will be remembered in history as a success. However, Book of Shadows is an inevitable byproduct of that success. Nothing more.
Book of Shadows is the very sort of movie that inspired directors Sanchez and Myrick to raise the bar of the genre in the first place. In interviews the men have explained that one day they were sitting around talking about what really scared them. It wasn't the trite Hollywood slasher films of present day, but eerie documentaries of their youth. Stories of Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster and the Bermuda Triangle. So they sought to outdo modern day blood fest films and action packed polished horror thrillers by inventing a mythology with some historical relevance and sociological believability.
Book of Shadows is just another bloody fright. It's just another high budget Hollywood chiller thriller. If you like that kind of movie, you will find Book of Shadows to be a satisfactory clone. If you were someone who was attracted to Blair Witch Project because you've been looking for something more creative and daring than any horror or thriller films that have come out of Hollywood the last twenty years, Book of Shadows will seriously disappoint you.
Book of Shadows disregards the events of The Blair Witch Project as not real, and therefore deserves to be dismissed itself. Just as if the sequels to Nightmare On Elm Street had pretended Freddy Krueger didn't exist. If it is ever made, a true sequel to Blair Witch will deal directly with the events of the first film - specifically the disappearance of the three college students. Personally, I refuse to refer to Book of Shadows as a sequel to Blair Witch Project. There are rumors that a "prequel" dealing with the original history of the Blair Witch might be made, but even that will not be a sequel. The true Blair Witch Project Two has yet to be filmed. Unfortunately, I fear it never will be.
Don Quixote (2000)
Endearing. Enchanting. Touching.
Though ideal for a family audience, the tale is perhaps too slow to entice most young people today. No car chases. No sex. No unwarranted violence. It takes place in Spain at the end of an era where noble thoughts and deeds were rewarded instead of scoffed. It will bore the less cultured, who may find it laughable. Still, anyone not presented this story, especially in the way it is told here, is cheated. It is worth the experience, and I beg you to give it a chance to steal your heart as it did mine. Don Quixote 2000 is filled with humor and soul; a rare gem in today's violent and amoral cinema.
Yes I know this was made for television. Still, it should be seen as a work of art, and a presentation of wondrous acting. It cannot be put in the same category with reruns of Starsky and Hutch. This version of Don Quixote has the makings of a classic.
Of the many retellings of this story, this latest version for the new millennium is perhaps the most heartfelt and moving. The casting is extraordinary. John Lithgow was born for this role. He has repeatedly proven himself worthy for the part of a man of noble virtue and undying spirit, with eyes simultaneously clouded by dreams and crystalized in truth. Lithgow has proven himself worthy of the role of a man seen mad by those around him, while showing the audience he is more sane in what his heart and mind reveal. From Garp to Solomon, every day of learning for this actor has been working up to this performance, and he is still a powerful talent showing no signs of waning.
This is not an easy role to perform. It takes someone with both Shakespearean and modern experience in acting. For it is very easy to present this character two-dimensionally as a madman, and to do so cheapens the role and the audience, as well as the actor. Lithgow rises to this challenge superbly. The tale of Don Quixote is not a tale of a mad man. It is the tale of a man crawling in a desert of mediocrity. His disillusionment is like that of a man crawling through a landscape of sand, reaching for mirages just at the horizon. He craves the sustenance of chivalry and adventure just as a man dying of thirst craves for water. He has drunk the glory of the library, and his mind seeks more adventure than can be found between the covers of a book. THIS is what the actor must reveal to his audience for this role to breathe true life. Quixote thirsts for knowledge, history, and rebirth of humanity, and prays to God that it be found in each one of us. This is the tale of the Last True Renaissance Man. Lithgow presents Quixote to us like a rare jewel in a golden crown, placed delicately upon a velvet pillow. He kneels before us and begs us to take the crown, and revel in the grandness and sadness of this most noble soul. His eyes! Lithgow's performance is so real and filled with emotion, humor, and wisdom. His eyes twinkle and awe at the true majesty of life and thought. We insult his honor as an actor and a gentleman were we to turn away.
Hoskins is by contrast equally well-cast in his role as a simple man of simple ways and means, who falls into the disillusionment of Quixote's world. He does so willingly, and perhaps for the first time in all presentations of this story, we see a performance that does not put into question why Sancho tarries along with this alleged madman. He does so for the hope of a reward, but in the end he does so for the love and friendship of a comrade. For this role it would have been easy for Hoskins to coast and not show us more than the surface, but like Lithgow, Hoskins is an actor of rare breed. Seeing these two great talents working together is a cherished experience, not to be missed.
The tale is always a painful one to experience, because we all long for a fulfillment of our dreams. Quixote does not listen to the naysayers surrounding them. He takes the bull by the horns, and stares down windmills in a way that we all wish we had to courage to share.
It is slow. The pacing of this film is the weak link. The cinematography is point and click. The special effects revealing what Quixote sees are often unnecessary, and the apparent limitations of financial budgeting to the visual and auditory aspects of the presentation make it less than it could have been. However, this allows us to revel in the performance of the leads and supporting cast, which is where the true magic of this production lay. I have seen this story told with more exuberance and energy, but never have I seen it told so lovingly, like a mother wiping the sweat from a fevered baby's face. I strongly recommend this for family viewing. In a world where children's fare is rare to find, even the most conservative and religious among society could find no fault in this film.
Three Kings (1999)
Yet another war movie for yet another war.
This was a painful film to watch, both for its flaws and virtues. George Clooney gives a lackluster performance, and fails to help us see why his character perseveres as the plot complicates. Ice Cube shows great promise but his potential is wasted in this film. Likewise for Nora Dunn and most other supporting players. I winced several times, and not at the bloodshed, but how this story was told.
The sound track is incredible. I'll give it that much. A veritable cornucopia of fun music from the latter half of the twentieth century. Quite a contrast to the remarkable UNfun of the movie itself.
The tale is based at least loosely on eyewitness accounts of events that took place at the end of the Persian Gulf "war." It sheds crocodile tears to the end of noble chivalry, revealing the truth of why man fights man in these dulled and amoral times. However, it tells us nothing we didn't already know. The reasons to take arms are not for justice, but for material wealth. This is repeatedly slapped in our faces as if to convert us. The priest is preaching to the choir. Repeatedly the characters question why they were even fighting this war. They were in the thick of it and yet never understand why. We know why. We know the Persian Gulf incident was fought over crude oil and gold bullion.
The tale also attempts to offer hope that despite mankind's unquenchable thirst for wealth and control of others, deep down we all want to be kinder and gentler to one another. However, the same preacher voice doesn't sell this convincingly, and the end result is a hollow shell of a film that does not captivate. Instead it just leaves one sick in the stomach at the very thought of one's own humanity.
Are we all like this? Are we all this shortsighted, vain and greedy? Surely each one who reads these words thinks "not I" but to judge the characters in this film for their actions, both noble and savage, we judge ourselves. Would we do the same if the score of twenty three million American dollars worth of Kuwaiti gold were within our grasp? What price tag do we each place upon the loss of life? The loss of innocence? The loss of sanity?
The dialogue is melodramatic when it should have been simple, and at other times simply hollow. The poetry is sporadic and not believable, and when more poetic words would have been preferred, we get rot gut. The plot is based on real events, but it is still a hard hook to swallow, and pulls at the insides. The suspension of disbelief should not be necessary for a story that is this true to life.
The first actual gunfight is edited in such a way as to give each bullet a pertinence equal to a presidential address. The camera becomes the bullet for practically every blow to the head. The eye candy is tart and sour. It becomes less like a war movie and more like a Punch and Judy puppet show. The message of needless bloodshed is wrapped around us like a head lock and is suffocating. Again, we KNOW. It's pointless. Why drive the point home like a stake in a vampire's heart? The bloodshed is simultaneously necessary for realism's sake, and more irrelevant than the video game Quake Arena Three. The discoloration and affectation of some scenes is a noble attempt to stylize for visual interest, but it falls short and is superfluous. The characterizations are weak and diluted. Needless to say I was sadly disappointed in Three Kings.
The film does attempt to answer the questions: Why must man kill his fellow man? Why do we keep having pointless wars? The answer is a simple and pathetic one. Why, for sand of course! For baubles like cell phones and expensive cars, just to toss them aside or blow them away at the next opportunity. We fight for fear of powerful leaders who command us to hate one another and hoard the wealth so that we must remain subservient. We kill one another not only because we can, and because it is easier to kill disagreement with small metallic pebbles blasted at great speeds with modern technology, than it is to realize that every man woman and child on this planet has the inalienable right to necessities, and dare I say even comforts, despite their disagreements of politics, religion and sociality.
The question this production should have asked instead was this: Why do we keep making pointless war movies about pointless wars? I think the answer to that question is equally unsatisfying.
The Patriot (2000)
Not as good as Braveheart, but close.
This movie starts slow and takes awhile to build up steam, but thankfully it's not as long as Braveheart. It threatens to drag on too long and lingers on things like an obligatory romance here and there. There are also moments that are more bloody than necessary, I assume in order to attempt more authenticity. However, it read more like shock value.
Is it historically accurate? That would take a historian to confirm. It tells a good story, and builds a few chills of patriotic pride in any viewer with a courageous heart. The tale focuses on the battles of the revolutionary war, and how the Americans finally bested the British redcoats through what we would today call "guerrilla tactics." Actually such tactics were learned from Native Americans of this soil. It's an insult to Native Americans that they didn't focus more on that.
There are some powerful fight scenes, though none match the efforts of Braveheart. There are many opportunities for humor which help the slow points a bit. I enjoyed the show quite a bit and recommend it for anyone who enjoys Mel Gibson's performances, or anyone who likes war movies. I wish there were more movies which dealt with the Revolutionary War actually. Rene Auberjonois gives an exceptional performance as a priest. It is very much worth a rental.
Girl, Interrupted (1999)
Girl Interrupted is a delicious exercise in self-indulgence
Anyone who has ever had an obsession, felt impulses to be drastic over something inconsequential, felt a bit out of place, or ever had in the back of their mind the sinking suspicion that they might be just a little bit crazy should see this film. Girl, Interrupted is rather self-indulgent, like watching children attack a bowl of Halloween candy, or witnessing family members playfully fighting over the last piece of pumpkin pie.
Is Girl Interrupted really saying crazy people are different from normal people? I don't think so. Alleged crazy people are normal people. They're the ones who say yes to thoughts that other people say no to. Borderlines are people thinking maybe.
Winona Ryder's character Susanna Kaysen (based on the author of the book) is the narrator of this story. It is her 'borderline' eyes that we are peering through. We learn that Susanna flushed a bottle of aspirin down with a bottle of vodka. This leads her parents into carefully goading her into locking herself up inside Claymoore: a mental hospital. She goes willingly but reluctantly, not really paying attention to anything because her mind is filled with echoes of the past, and she deludes herself into becoming delusional. Eventually she is diagnosed as a "borderline personality disorder." When compared to the other tenants on her ward in Claymoore however, the more appropriate phrase would be "psycho wanna-be."
Susanna's roommate is a pathological liar who is obsessed with the Oz series of books. Across the hallway is a girl who set herself on fire because she loved her cat. Another refuses to eat because 75 pounds is her ideal weight. So what we witness is a scared teenage girl in the late sixties surrounded by scared girls all rapidly turning into confused young women. We witness Susanna interrupting her own life for a year and a half in order to see in them what she has been, what she is, and what she might become if she crosses the borderline.
Then comes Lisa.
While Winona Ryder plays the tossed raft of this story upon which we skittishly cling, Angelina Jolie appears on the scene like a powerful stormy sea ready to capsize us, blow us off course, or merely keep us company while we navigate the rough waters. Jolie steals the limelight from Ryder while simultaneously making her look good. Ryder holds the show well enough in the start (much like Henry Winkler in the 1982 movie Night Shift before Michael Keaton's entrance), but Jolie's performance of the sociopathic and charismatic Lisa gives this production a needed jumpstart. It also gives us a chance to examine the proceedings from another perspective: Susanna's only just arrived, but Lisa Rowe's been there half her life. While Susanna's borderline, Lisa's already rocked her own boat so far she's drowning, and builds temporary flotation devices by demeaning those around her, but it leaves her dead inside. Somehow Jolie is able to present this hateful person in such a way as to make you want to punch her and hug the stuffing out of her at the same time.
Whoopi Goldberg is a steady rock. While the madness and childishness spreads and recedes like beached waves on an ebbing tide, Whoopi's performance of nurse Valerie lends us a consistent perspective of reason and duty. In one of the more powerful moments of the film, Valerie picks the drugged and lazy Susanna up out of bed and plops her down into a tub filled with cold water. Valerie then tells Susanna in no uncertain terms what we have already surmized by this point: Susanna doesn't belong here. She's not crazy now, but if she drops anchor in Claymoore, she eventually will be.
Girl, Interrupted is a powerful and moving film about what it means to be sane, what it means to be a social animal, and inevitably what it means to be human. It does get bogged down at times in the messages it tries to convey. Still, the performances of the talent supercede the sometimes preachy dialogue, and move the action along even those times when it appears the story's just running in circles.
The plot is not so much invented in a classic way. After all, this is based on real life, and Kaysen's book is a memoir - a diary. It's real. So there is no real beginning, middle and end. We're told basically why Susanna went in there, we experience some of the highs and lows of her stay, and she tries to show us why she got out. The first time I viewed the film, I found myself wondering towards the end when exactly was it going to end, and how. I was not personally satisfied with the rather ambiguous ending that was finally presented to me, but the slice of life presented to us is an ambiguous one, so ironically it seems fitting, if not satisfying by design. It's not some golden destination of sanity that this film focuses on, but the realization that being socially fit to function in society means to be a part of it, and so it is the journey that keeps us sane.
The rare references to The Wizard of Oz are just enough to bring light to the metaphor: Susanna is like Dorothy. The people she meets along the way are like the scarecrow, lion and tinman; friends on the journey to getting back out. Claymoore hospital is in a way a land of Oz, either a daydream or a nightmare, depending on how you look at it. And perspective, for someone who believes themselves insane, is everything.
Sanity is not a place, but a state of mind. And after seeing this movie, I was amused at myself: as if I need a film to tell me something that should be so incredibly obvious.
Mary Reilly (1996)
The film Mary Reilly is a shipwreck of reason.
True fans of Julia Roberts may wish to experience this film. No doubt one's love for her previous efforts will allow one to find this trash as personal treasure. All others should give this film a wide berth. We are meant to suspend disbelief and assume Julia Roberts to be Dr. Jeckyl's hard-working Irish maid who survived child abuse with scar tissue and is now forced into perpetual servitude, yet still able to look this good.
The predominant evidence to Roberts' being miscast is her inability to retain an Irish accent throughout the film. Just once didn't the director think to stop and film a scene until Roberts got it right? Roberts would seem to occasionally add accented inflection as an afterthought. I hope they never cast her as Eliza in a remake of Pygmalion! Julia Roberts portrays confusing emotions throughout the film. Fear, disillusionment, frustration, and surprise all appear to register on Roberts' face as the same emotion. Wide eyes with lips that almost part and eyebrows that almost remarkably remain motionless. In fact, much of Roberts' time in the film is spent tentatively peering through some portal with her shining face looking for a shadow to hide behind, as she views something off camera which is never truly as horrific as a horror movie should be.
To be fair, the sets and the costuming are superb. The sound is satisfactory, but not memorable. That's about the best I can compliment this film. While a film of the horror genre, it also vainly strives to be a romance, an intense melodrama and near the end even cheesy science fiction. The end result is this film doesn't know what it wants to be. Therefore it plods away with the pacing of a cadaver, stagnating in its own refuse.
John Malkovich must be incredibly confident in his talent to have given such a terrible performance here. I have seen him do far better with far less. Perhaps Malkovich knew that in this script, the parts of Jeckyl and Hyde are merely supporting roles that take a backseat to what is inherently a Julia Roberts star vehicle, and he took that to heart. This film's Hyde appears to be perhaps ten years younger than Jeckyl, and clean-shaven. We're never meant to truly understand what diabolical serum turns the one man into the other, but I imagine it involved a pint of guiness followed by a vodka chaser, and either shaving cream or rogaine, depending on the need. That is the extent of the difference visually. The rest is dependent upon Malkovich's performance as a kind elderly gentleman in the part of Jeckyl and a sinister rebellious delinquent in the part of Hyde. Malkovich rises up to this challenge by not rising at all. Instead he reads his lines alternatively wooden or melodramatic. He is the villain because it is his part to play: except of course when it is not. Then he is a misunderstood lover unrequited or a man hiding angst and longing. We are meant to feel pity for him, but we end up feeling indifferent.
It is explained to us why Jeckyl has invented Hyde. He struggles with demons within that perhaps we all have to some degree, only he was trying to control his and use it affect freedom from the captivity of his humdrum existence. One can't help but think that all Jeckyl truly needed was spontaneity. His reasons for unleashing this monster have not enough weight to carry the film. Further, this monster he unleashes turns out to be simply a man of amoral virtues who doesn't pass for a gentleman by cultured 19th century standards. I mean in the 20th century Mr. Hyde would fit in quite well in a reality cops tv show as a man police take into custody. He's no monster. He's no madman. He's just a common criminal, and a boring one at that; like a kleptomaniac who steals lives. Diseased or merely selfish, he deserves what he gets.
Glenn Close appears laughably in what appears to be a man in drag with far too much makeup, making her performance as Cruella DeVille in 101 Dalmatians Oscar material by comparison. In Mary Reilly, she portrays The Madame Farraday, who being the manager of a nearby prostitution ring, naturally (stereotypically) has dealings with Hyde and cleans up after his antisocial outings, only to be surprised when this backfires. Close performs her role as if she knows her fate, and sneers and jeers at everything around her; there obviously for her own entertainment and amusement: certainly not ours. The other performers are inconsequential to the plot or the atmosphere, and quite unremarkable.
The premise sounds solid on the surface, but like a wet paper towel it breaks under any strain. The casting was misguided. The dialogue is weak. The script itself is bland where it should have been melodramatic and vice versa. The interaction between characters always appears forced and rarely builds from the logic of the moment. The motivations shown of Reilly's childhood horror appear more scary than her present plight, and cause one to wonder why she doesn't just turn tail and run. Yet towards the end we realize it is because she actually likes it when she's punished and broken. She *wants* to be Hyde's victim. This realization could have been an audience shocker, but instead it's a yawn.
There's a bad joke that comes to mind. The masochist says to the sadist, "hurt me please." The sadist says to the masochist, "no." This is what happens to the leads in this film. Nothing. And yet they seem content with that.
Hardware (1990)
So bad it's good... no I take that back it's just bad.
There are potential spoilers in this review. However, it's not the plot that is the reason to see this film. The boys at Mystery Science Theater 3000 should have put this movie on their show. It's so terrible it's fun to laugh at, and opens itself up to many opportunities to make wisecracks at the screen.
The story takes place in an uncertain future, where apparently the environmental doomsayers of the world were correct. The Earth is now a planet-wide low property district covered with desert and demilitarized zones. The entire feel of the movie is depressing and moronic. Everyone has pretty much given up on trying to save the planet from human excess and stupidity, and they're just all sort of waiting for the inevitable. However, the world is dying with a whimper instead of a bang, and the horror of human extinction isn't happening fast enough. Ultimately this is a terrible film with an attempt at a social, environmental message. We get a very bleak picture of the future of humanity.
Dylan McDermott (known more recently for his work in the tv show "The Practice") plays Moses Baxter. Known as Mo to his few friends, he used to work for 'the Corp' but we never really find out what that is. He buys some scrap metal from a desert scavenger and brings it to his estranged girlfriend for a Christmas present.
Mo's girl Jill is played surprisingly well by Stacey Travis, and she is perhaps the only saving grace of this film. One of the things I like about this film is that the female lead can take care of herself and doesn't need any saving by testosterone-filled males. Despite her self-reliance, the men in the movie come charging in at one point thinking they're the cavalry anyway, and this builds up what is for me one of the most laughable and entertaining moments of the entire movie.
Jill is a resourceful woman who has barricaded herself in what's left of her apartment. It's pretty trashed when we first see her apartment, and it only gets worse. Talented with computers and machines, Jill spends her days smoking government approved "Major Good Vibes" cigarettes, watching disturbing television, listening to Iggy Pop's voice as the deranged radio personality "Angry Bob" and in her spare time she makes depressing artistic sculptures out of scrap metal that she can't sell because nobody cares. Why does she make these scrap metal sculptures? Because if she didn't we wouldn't have a plot.
The other supporting characters include people who use drugs to pass the time, buy metal scrap because it sometimes forwards the plot along, and lusting after Jill because it doesn't forward the plot along. She only has eyes for Mo, and she often asks herself why. We often ask ourselves why too, but we get one gratuitous sex scene out of it.
The people who do die, you pretty much want them to die anyway. So in that, the film holds true to the rules of horror movies, which is rather amusing because this is supposed to be a scifi flick. Visually, the movie's an attempt at industrial surrealism. There's a lot of red filters used for the landscapes, and a lot of darkness is used interspersed with superfluous strobe lights and other strangeness. The majority of the sets look like a badly made haunted house. However, despite the low budget attempts at flashy special effects, it does have some amusing imagery. It also sounds good, with a satisfactory soundtrack and the sound effects are well done.
So anyway, back to what little plot there is. Mo gives Jill this scrap metal as a present and an apology for ignoring her most of the time, and she takes the skull of what they think was some maintenance droid and puts it into one of her disturbing artistic sculptures. She paints the skull like an American flag, which is also pretty funny. It turns out that the metal skull used to be a defected reject robot from some government project called "Mark 13." What a surprise. Mark 13 was designed to kill anything that gives off heat. Unfortunately this film doesn't register on infrared. The rest of the film involves "Mark 13" rebuilding himself and beating up on the actors and the set. It's a shame robotic puppets can't win awards for overacting.
At one point Mo talks about a dream he had about rain, which the robot repeats to Jill near the end to help her figure out how to finally take out the robot. Don't ask me. I couldn't make sense out of it either. It is however a way to conveniently put this poor film out of its own misery.
If you love to laugh at bad movies, this is a great film to pick up at a video rental store, call some friends over, tell them to bring the beer, and you all can laugh at it. A better choice however would be the 1975 movie "A Boy And His Dog" which is a film that insults one's intelligence a bit less than Hardware does, although it's not as visually striking.
George Lucas in Love (1999)
Good for a laugh
After the first viewing, my only complaint was that it was too short. Six minutes didn't feel like enough. It's good to leave an audience wanting more. This film is not only a tribute to two great films, but also to many comedic greats of the twentieth century, including Mel Brooks. George Lucas In Love is a joyful comedic parody... but it does have its limitations.
Upon reflection I surmise that had they tried to stretch the premise to even a full half hour, the end result would have been less appealing. With six minutes, the film does a great hit and run. It's a cute premise, well presented, and the comic timing is nearly flawless. As shorts go it is one of the best I have seen. As movies go, it is above satisfactory. Barely.
It's shortsighted and severely limiting in scope. This work would only truly appeal to those who have seen both Star Wars and Shakespeare In Love as a prerequisite, and any film should be able to stand on its own merits. George Lucas In Love is a good idea for a school project, but has perhaps acquired a bit more attention than it truly deserves.
I saw copies of George Lucas In Love on sale at a local Blockbuster for seven dollars the other day. A six minute film being sold on VHS by itself for the price of a full-length film previewed tape? Maybe if it was with an hour or so of other shorts I'd be willing, but if they played a trailer before, The lead into the film would be greater than the film itself. It'd be like buying a copy of "Godzilla vs. Bambi" for seven bucks. What a gip!
"George Lucas In Love" is cute, but really it wasn't THAT good. I give it a six.
Family Business (1989)
regrettably forgettable
You would think with this lineup, this movie would be a sure thing. I mean look at it! Where else in the history of cinema has there been this much talent on the same screen?
Knighted in 2000 by the Queen of England herself, Scottish born Sean Connery broke the Hollywood trap of typecasting from his many successful James Bond films, and is now known as one of the most consummate motion picture performers of all time. Oh, and he got an Oscar in 1987 for The Untouchables. Dustin Hoffman impressed the world early in his career with The Graduate, and has quite a consistent track record with at least one successful film every year since 1967. He was nominated for the Oscars seven times and won twice. Just Hoffman and Connery alone on the screen together should be enough, but throw into the mix the comparatively youthful Matthew Broderick and the screen should be supercharged with guaranteed nonstop drama, action, humor and raw memorable entertainment.
Should be.
Broderick's career on the big screen was solidified with "WarGames" in 1983, just as Hoffman's work on "The Graduate" or Connery's first Bond picture "Dr. No" permanently put those men on the map. Even compared to these more experienced and mature talents, Broderick's resume is comparatively impressive, with easily a dozen critical or financial successes under his belt. Though not yet an Oscar winner himself, his work in films like "Glory," "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" and Neil Simon's "Biloxi Blues" have rewarded him with awards and respect among his peers. Able to dance flawlessly between drama and comedy, he was easily a suitable match for Hoffman and Connery.
This should be one of the greatest films of all time. Three talents this impressive should still cause a buzz among movie fans everywhere. This should be a film that is heralded as the greatest production ever. It should be. You would think on the surface that it was. I've watched this film more than once. I can't put my finger on why exactly, but it is terrible. The dialog is stiff. The performances do not match men of this caliber. They seem to be going through the motions instead of emoting anything. The pacing is slow. The plot is flawed with an amoral and apathetic approach to having a theme, or a moral, or even a desire to be about anything in particular. There is no purpose to the storytelling. It goes out of its way to speak volumes of nothing about anything. It's difficult to even believe these men are remotely related to one another. The chemistry between the actors is diluted. They might as well be playing golf together. And most of all, it's a tired premise for a film: three generations of a family blood line, separated by the generation gap, cultural differences and various past events which caused a strain on relationships are inevitably drawn together because of one thing: family blood. It's predictable. There's no suspense. There's no emotional attachment to the characters by the audience. The end result of this film is like a brightly colored clown forgetting to inflate the balloons that he uses to create balloon animals.
Watching these three men interviewed by Barbra Walters about what they each ate for breakfast would be more exciting than this film. This film isn't even a car wreck. At least with a car wreck there is something that causes one to do a double take. The potential for a head rolling out of the glove compartment. Something.
This film is one of the most forgettable and regretful moments in twentieth century cinema, and the real tragedy is that it didn't have to be this way. These three men are three of my favorite creative talents of all time. Together they should be unstoppable. I pray that one day an attempt is made to put these three men on the screen together again, but this time the script must be wholly unique, made to measure up to the challenge, and everyone needs to leave their egos outside the studio door.
Man on the Moon (1999)
"a song and dance man."
When Kaufman was alive I had a sort of love-hate response to his material. As I'm sure many did. Needless to say I also have a love-hate response to this film. We were not in on the joke, those of us who were exposed to the real Andy Kaufman. This movie tries to demystify the perplexity that was Andy Kaufman. It tries to humble his stature while simultaneously praising him as if he were a gift to modern comedy and humanity. He was not. He was a selfish performer with a delinquent obsession for mischief. Any entertainment we got from him was despite his own efforts.
He was a talented man, but many stand greater than he: Lenny Bruce, Richard Pryor, George Burns, Jonathan Winters, Bill Cosby, the list goes on. In a way the movie stands almost as an apology: "He was only kidding, folks!" and I wonder if that apology should be accepted, or even uttered. It's like trying to explain the joke after the punchline illicits no laughter. It demeans the attempt and makes the joke even worse.
Kaufman was an entertainer interested in the interactions between performer and audience. He wasn't satisfied with just making people laugh. He also wanted to make us cry. He wanted to scare us. He wanted to inspire us to throw things at him and shout obscenities, and he wanted to be able to control his audience on all emotional levels. In that, he was successful.
He would read The Great Gatsby to a crowd, not to entertain them, but to see how long it would take before they would all get up and leave. He wanted to see how much the audience would take of him. The audience was there to entertain him.
He wanted to be known as a song and dance man. Fine. I'll call him that. However, he was no comedian. Comedians generally focus on trying to make an audience laugh. Kaufman preferred to see his audience as the butt of jokes for his own amusement. We were his entertainment. It was not the other way around.
Should we laud him for it? Should we praise him for it? And should we make expensive movies about him when his corpse is hardly cold? As sincere and heartfelt as this movie wants to be, it is somehow unfitting to speak this way of the dead. And y'know what? That's probably exactly how Andy would have wanted it.
The special guest appearances are enigmatic for me. Surely there's stories behind closed doors with Danny DeVito convincing some of them - stories we will never hear. Perhaps after DeVito is dead we'll see another movie about it.
Jim Carrey's performance was impeccable. Naturally he was completely snubbed by the Academy and was not even nominated for an Oscar. Like Kaufman, Hollywood still doesn't quite know what to do with Carrey. If you like Carrey, this is a mustsee film. If you don't like Carrey, this film might just change your mind.
DeVito's performance is underwhelming. His attention was diverted, and he would have been better suited staying behind the camera and concentrating on looking through the lens. DeVito wore too many hats for this one and it shows in his performance.
I've seen documentaries about Kaufman that were just as entertaining and revealing. I enjoyed it, but I did so despite myself. I think the most powerful moment is the scene just before the funeral. For a film in which I already knew all the major plot points and I knew how it would end, the look on Carrey/Kaufman's face when he realized that the cruelest joke of life was on him, that alone was worth the price of admission.
Sliding Doors (1998)
a romantic comedy with a dry wit and a quantum edge.
If you are a man looking for a film that your lady friend will love and you will tolerate, look no further. Though there are no car chases or exploding buildings, I assure you that men will find this film as memorable and fun as will women. Anyone who has ever looked out the window at the clouds in the sky muttering "what if" to themselves should see this film.
Gwyneth Paltrow plays Helen Quilley, a self-made woman in love with a deadbeat boyfriend named Gerry (played by John Lynch). She has just lost her job and is on her way to see Gerry and tell him the bad news. Unbeknownst to Helen, Gerry is "shagging" an old flame back at the apartment Helen shares with him. Not knowing she lost her job, Gerry's expecting Helen to be out all day.
Early in the film we see a unique twist that writer/director Peter Howitt pulls off like Penn and Teller's sleight of hand.
Running late for the subway train, Helen rushes down the stairs. In one reality, a child stands in her way and she must spend a fraction of a second deftly avoiding the child. In an alternate reality, the child is taken aside by that child's mother, allowing Helen to rush down the stairs unimpaired.
The race across the platform has one Helen less than a second ahead of the other, and as we witness these simultaneous realities separate like two strands of hair, one Helen makes it to the sliding door in time to catch the train. The other is left alone on the platform, only to learn another train will not arrive for quite some time.
This event early in the film is critical to understand, because director Howitt skillfully continues the storytelling with very little fanfare. The Helen who we see inside the train has a brief but amusing conversation with a stranger named James (played by John Hannah). In the alternate reality, Helen leaves the subway terminal and attempts to find alternate transport, only to become victim to an attempted mugging on the streets of London.
The mugging is a bit too necessary for the purpose of storytelling, but forgivable. This way we can tell the two Helens apart. The one who fails to make the train receives a blow to her head during the mugging, and wears a bandage on her head. The other Helen does not. This makes it easy to keep track of the two slightly different tangents as the film goes along.
It was a daring but proper choice on the part of Howitt, not to pepper this significantly insignificant event of one Helen missing the train and the other not. The fact the film is named after the sliding doors of the subway train is enough: the audience knows its visual cue.
Howitt could have tried to hold the hand of the viewer. However, had he attempted to include voice-overs or some other external designation to separate the two storylines for us, it would have detracted from the story, and been a distraction to the film.
Consider it akin to when television sitcoms use canned laughter to tell you when to laugh. This film makes the assumption you are intelligent enough to keep up. It is a film worth seeing more than once, and your first time through you may find yourself with one finger on the rewind button.
The Helen who made the bus gets home in time to catch her boyfriend Gerry in bed with Lydia (Jeanne Tripplehorn). The Helen who missed the bus gets home several hours later, and barely misses that opportunity.
Later, the Helen who made the train has a dramatic change in hairstyle, as some women are prone to do after breaking up with a boyfriend. Again, this is done to help us keep track of the separate storylines, and also to show how the two Helens slowly become different people.
This tale adroitly dances between these separate threads of reality, only to build to a slightly melodramatic but sufficient ending.
For the record, this is writer director Peter Howitt's debut wearing both hats. To approach and succeed in a project of this magnitude his first turn at bat is a credit to him.
Unfortunately, the film is focused on its premise. Because it is telling two stories simultaneously, we lose a bit of dimension in the characters themselves. Most characterizations come across as shallow and incomplete. Some of the plot twists are predictable and a few are inevitable. The characters are sincere and endearing, yet their dialogue and actions come across as flat and unreal. Helen and James in particular, come across as "too good to be true."
The theme of the film attempts to show the grand scope of reality as unpredictable and filled with possibilities. However, one leaves the film with the impression that life is fixed and predestined. It almost hits the mark, but not quite.
This is not the fault of the splendid performances of the cast. Their use of the script brings a refreshing and animated wealth of humor and emotion. Considering what they had to work with, they deserved Oscars. For example, the rare but excessive use of "Monty Pythonisms" seemed trite, but John Hannah pulls off the camp with impeccable charm and delight.
The script itself seemed to have lost the characters and the drive of the film, by focusing too much on following through with its creative and inspiring premise.
Neither of these two tales alone would have made a good movie. Together, the alternate realities of Helen Quilley are certain to tickle your funny bone and raise your spirits, also leaving you with a warm feeling and not a few philosophical questions.
It's the perfect video to rent for an evening shared with someone you love, provided of course you have both been faithful. After all, like the Monty Python boys used to say, nobody expects the spanish inquisition.
The X-Files Game (1998)
The Truth is Out to Lunch, but it's coming right back...
X-Files Video Game is a welcome complement to Carter's Mythology for those who are fans of the series, but non-fans will probably not be converted. There are a few action scenes, but it's mostly puzzle-oriented, as is to be expected. The video game does hold true to the more paranoid and disturbing elements of the TV show, and you're treated to guest appearances by many of the supporting roles in the series. Unfortunately, Mulder and Scully's roles take a backseat, and you play a second-string facsimilie. It actually feels more like "X-Files the Next Generation." The plot is predictable. Though intuitive, the interface is reminiscent of old arcade live-action video games consisting of a gun or a joystick to moderately affect the action. One doesn't feel they are affecting the action of the story so much as just learning what's the right thing to do when. As the second attempt for the Carter franchise to vault into computer entertainment, it's a valiant effort. As computer entertainment in general, it is not revolutionary and barely satisfactory.