Simple Is As Simple Does, Jack

The suits over at DreamWorks must have been floored when they found out just who had decided to protest "Tropic Thunder." When being pitched a film that features a white man playing a black man, they probably foresaw controversy, but certainly not from advocates for the mentally impaired. "Tropic Thunder" explores the diverse careers of its fictional Hollywood actors, and this controversy has arisen from one film within this film. Writer/director/star, Ben Stiller's character, Tugg Speedman has hit a rough patch. His last film, "Simple Jack" was the worst of the exploitative, Oscar-pandering worst. About a mentally retarded farmhand, "Simple Jack" is clearly Stiller's attempt at criticizing Hollywood for such shameless exploitation.

There is certainly nothing wrong with this idea in and of itself. When juxtaposed with the film's handling of Robert Downey Jr.'s performance as an Australian playing a black man, however, things become more suspect. Stiller treads very delicately with this potentially hilarious, potentially offensive premise. Every step of the way, Downey's character is put in his place by Brandon T. Jackson's character, a real black man. Consequently, the audience is never given a moment to become even slightly uncomfortable with the fact that it's watching a white man in blackface. The film is so careful condemn it at every turn that it is easy to forget that blackface can even be a bad thing. This all adds up to a running joke that is considerably less edgy than it may initially seem.

When Stiller is so cautious about potentially offending Blacks, it leaves me to wonder why he felt that he could be more lazy when it came to the mentally handicapped, and even Asians. At no point do any characters stand up and question the nature of "Simple Jack" as overtly as Jackson's character does the use of blackface. Similarly, the film's antagonists are a collection of savage, backwater Southeast Asians who are never given any depth and are never offset by a single sympathetic Southeast Asian character. Perhaps these details would not be so hard to overlook if the script had not been so excessively careful in other places. It leaves me wondering if Stiller is that much better than the people he is criticizing.

All of the controversy casts a bit of a pall over the film. There are, however, some truly hilarious moments. The set of fake trailers that precedes the film is dead-on satire and a true highlight. There is certainly fun to be had thereafter, but the plot lacks any real weight. Obviously, this isn't "Schindler's List," but there needs to be some sort of dramatic pull that gets viewers from one scene to another. Instead, the film rushes to get the actors stranded in the Vietnamese jungle and then doesn't know what to do from there. The finale is amusing, but rather forgettable. Shockingly, a cameo by a certain well-known Scientologist may be the film's biggest highlight. I'm no fan of his acting but, with a bit of makeup, he makes quite the bizarre, sleazy Hollywood executive.

Much has been made of the film's large budget. "Tropic Thunder" certainly looks like an expensive war movie, but I wonder how much that contributes to the comedy movie that we're supposed to be seeing. The opening sequence, which takes place within the movie these actors are making, is very convincing as a melodramatic, big-budget war movie. Thereafter, "Tropic Thunder" is a behind-the-scenes comedy. If this had been a straight parody, dramatic helicopter shots would have added to the experience. Here, however, such grandeur seems misplaced. Only occasionally does Stiller show any flare as a director or put his money to any comedic use. The ultimate fate of the film-within-the-film's director is very memorable, but it also looks like it was the cheapest effect in the film (and was all the funnier for it). Meanwhile, the pyrotechnics-laden finale certainly cost a few bucks, but only elicits a slight grin.

Ultimately, the film certainly could have done without all of the controversy but, even then, it would hardly have been remarkable. Like Stiller's last effort ("Zoolander"), this film will most likely hit the spot on lazy Sunday afternoons in cable replays, but it struggles to stand out in one of the best summer movie seasons in recent memory.

I Guess I'll Just Have to Order Another Milkshake

I'll admit it. Some movies scare me. No, I'm not talking about the kind of scare horror movies are supposed to give you. (Well, the "Saw" movies scare me on a certain level, but that's a rant for another day.) What I'm talking about is the kind of scare that comes from having your ego threatened; the kind of scare that I feel when I walk out of a movie thinking, "Damn, I'm happy I don't have to review that one." The best recent example of this sort of film is "There Will Be Blood." It is rare to see a film that is so wildly ambitious, but also widely praised by critics and embraced by pop culture as a whole. Going in, such a film can be rather intimidating for a young film snob. One wonders, "Will I get it?" or, "Will I see what others see in it? And if so, will I be able to build a righteous hatred for it that will allow me to rant for weeks on end about how overrated it is?"

After seeing the Paul Thomas Anderson's "There Will Be Blood" in theaters, I walked away impressed, but baffled. In other words, the answer to all of my aforementioned questions was pretty much, "No." I felt like the film's main character had just sauntered up and delivered on his threats; Daniel Plainview had drunk my milkshake -- drunk it right up -- and I didn't know what to make of the situation. This perturbation has persisted ever since and only last night did I finally get the opportunity to sit down and give the film another go.

Initially, this had an effect that may only surprise me: I found myself understanding the film both more and less. My first reaction was to consider ejecting the disc and throwing it across the room. (Blu-ray discs fly quite well. I suggest trying it with a copy of "Fool's Gold.") After that impulse was repressed, however, I sat down and really thought about why I had ever liked the film at all, and some things finally came together in my head. One of the film's most striking qualities, in my mind, is its similarity to Stanley Kubrick's work. I consider him to be one of the greatest artists of the last century, so seeing flashes of his work in other films always excites me. From the beautifully deliberate pans and zooms of the camera, to the unflinchingly bleak characterization of Plainview, "There Will Be Blood" shows that Paul Thomas Anderson has a cinematic bravado that is only comparable to Kubrick's.

What has always defined Kubrick in my eyes is the fact that his films are, on one level, very simple but astoundingly complex on just about every other. "The Shining" is about a guy who kills his family. "Eyes Wide Shut" is about a guy who is considering cheating on his wife. "2001" is about a ship that travels throughout the solar system to find a giant monolith that -- okay, that one is a bad example. Looking back on "There Will Be Blood," I can see a similar dichotomy revealed when Plainview blithely comments on his inner sense of competition. I was surprised to realize that, on one level, the film is that simple: He is just a selfish, jealous son of a bitch, inside and out.

Obviously, that is not all there is to him, but knowing that there is such a simple framework for the entire film makes it easier for me to accept just how inscrutable the rest of it can be. Daniel's relationships with religion, his son, and even the oil he drills are complex and often seemingly contradictory. Much of the film seems to revel in a murky sort of complexity that only dares to you try and illuminate it. This is what makes films like "There Will Be Blood" so important: they challenge us in new ways. Now I feel a certain sort of comfort in my fear, like that uneasy laughter that washes over an audience after a particularly big scare in a horror movie. This is because I now realize that all great films, regardless of their purported genre, are horror films. They force us to venture into unexplored depths of our own minds. Now that's something of which we can all be afraid.

"Sex" Is Better when Everyone's Doing It

It probably won't be long before I deviate from my focus on film here, but suffice it to say that any rant you read on this blog will be coming from a mind that runs at 24 frames per second. Anyway, enough with the introductions. Let's get to the good stuff -- the "Sex," naturally.

What is it about Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte that get women so excited? I have no clue. At some level, the four of them seem like any other chick flick/chick show protagonists: their many romantic tribulations only surpassed by the amount of words they use to reflect on them. Yet, "Maid of Honor" didn't make over $50 million in its first weekend and I'm pretty sure few would have paid premium cable prices to see about a half dozen episodes of "Gilmore Girls" each year. I can't comment on how the franchise has become such a hit among women, but maybe I can shed some light on it when I explain just why I like it so much.

For a guy like myself (hopelessly dense, that is), women seem to be something short of godlike. This power is not shown in their action, mind you, but in their inaction. For me, it is common to say and do things that clearly should never have gotten off of the drawing board. Just as common as these indiscretions are the women who look on in disapproval. It's almost as if they, in their perfection, possess some faculty that I do not. I doubt that the women in "Sex and the City" make the men in their lives feel any differently. What makes them different for me, however, is that while most of what I see (both in life and film) ends with that reaction, "Sex" begins there; it shows the idiosyncrasies behind the exterior.

Now you're thinking, "Well, the internet's lack of standards rears its head again; Matt thinks it's a revelation that 'Sex and the City' is from a woman's point of view." To that I say, "Screw off... and let me elaborate." Sure, Kate Hudson plays a woman and is, by all accounts, a woman, but when was the last time she gave you any real insight into the mind of a woman? I admit that I missed "Fool's Gold," but I'm just going to assume that she does about as much for women as Matthew McConaughey does for shirtless fucking idiots. The women of "Sex and the City" don't just run around, yelling about their problems; they over think their problems, try to make sense of the world around them and struggle to maintain a sense of individuality. In short: they are real characters, and it's sad but that's a revelation for Hollywood.

Now, I walked out of the film with mixed feelings. It was a bit too long, even if it never really dragged. I just feel as if writer/director Michael Patrick King didn't really have anything concrete in mind when he set out to make the film. He basically shakes some plotlines from the show loose enough that it takes 145 minutes to retie them. That may sound like a harsh criticism, but it's really pretty mild considering the level of quality with which he's starting. Also, the introduction of a new secondary character does feel forced and pointless. Still, something tells me that they would have to wear the franchise pretty thin before it stopped being the best of its kind. And until that happens, I can assure any disapproving woman that the vulgar, inappropriate comment I just made is one that would make Samantha proud.