FILM REVIEW: ON THE ROAD

Marylou (Kristen Stewart) in On the Road.

The beat goes on

 

By Ed Rampell

 

In Jack Kerouac’s novel and director Walter Salles’ film adaptions thereof, Sal Paradise (Sam Riley), Dean Moriarty (Garrett Hedlund) and male friends with literary aspirations and sexy female companions careen about the continent in a car, driving like whirling dervishes from place to place, stopping long enough to have madcap misadventures from Denver to Louisiana, San Francisco to Manhattan.

 

Of course, this is a gross oversimplification. What makes the novel -- and movie -- riveting is its context and subtext, as a testament of youthful restlessness and rebellion in America’s postwar years. Listen closely, and you’ll hear fascistic Senator Joe McCarthy on the radio; watch intently, and you’ll see Tricky Dick Nixon on the tube. Kerouac rendered in literary form the cadence and tempo of be-bop music. Along with Allen Ginsberg’s Howl, On The Road is the seminal, iconic work of the Beat generation, a countercultural movement against the “American Way” of A-bombs, anti-communism, McCarthyism, materialism, uber-conformity, etc., in favor of a Bohemian quest for the meaning of life.

 

While the film has many attributes, one of the boldest aspects of this movie is its in-your-face homosexuality. It’s been about 20 or so years since I read On the Road, so memory may fail me, but I don’t remember the gay sex openly recounted in the published version of Kerouac’s text, which he self censored prior to Viking Press’ 1957 publication of the novel in those straighter, more straitlaced times. So if the filmmakers decided to inject this by actually making use of our greater freedoms of expression today, bravo.

 

However, I do recall what A. Robert Lee called “interracial love” in “Tongues Untied, Beat Ethnicities, Beat Multiculture” in the aforementioned The Philosophy of the Beats. Lee references “Sal’s campesina lover Terry”; Brazilian actress Alice Braga winsomely plays the character based on Bea Franco; Sal and Dean have an orgy with Mexican women and also befriend the African American jazz musician Walter (Terrence Howard). One can’t stress enough what a taboo it was for Kerouac to daringly depict inter-ethnic sex and friendships in America where apartheid was still widely practiced, as he also courageously did in other works, such as in 1958’s The Subterraneans. Progressives will also be moved by sequences of the migrant farm workers’ plight.

 

  

 

 

FILM REVIEW: THE GUILT TRIP

Andy (Seth Rogan) and Joyce (Barbara Steisand) in The Guilt Trip.

 

 

Aged and never green

By Miranda Inganni

While visiting his mom, Joyce (Barbara Streisand), in New Jersey, Andy Brewster (Seth Rogan), learns that he was named after his widowed mother’s first love. Believing that he has tracked this man down, and trying to cheer up his mother -- who, by the by, seems perfectly content with how her life is, aside from her son living 3,000 miles away -- Andy impulsively invites her to join him on his cross country road trip. Andy has business meetings set up along the way to try to sell his invention: an organic cleaning product that is safe enough to drink. While Andy’s product may be a best seller, Andy is not the best salesman. His pitch is hard to swallow even if his product is not.

Directed by Anne Fletcher (27 Dresses) and written by Dan Fogelman (Crazy, Stupid, Love) The Guilt Trip is a tepid, mediocre comedy set mostly in a car. I chuckled once. maybe twice. The idea that Joyce would be happier with a man in her life is boring and absurd. While she admits that her biggest thrill is shopping at Gap (decidedly boring), the only man she wants more of in her life is her son.

Streisand’s Joyce is a stereotypical, overbearing mom to Rogan’s underachieving son. As predictable as any movie can be, The Guilt Trip offers little more than a few chuckles. Considering the talent Rogan and Streisand possess, both actors deserve better material -- and so do discerning viewers.

LAFF 2012: RED FLAG

Alex (Alex Karpovsky) in Red Flag.

Stop in the name of ___

By Don Simpson

In Red Flag, writer-director Alex Karpovsky plays a somewhat fictionalized version of himself. His character, Alex, embarks upon a tour of the southern United States with his cinema verite mockumentary, Woodpecker. The trip immediately follows an emotionally tenuous break-up with his longterm girlfriend, Rachel (Caroline White). While I have no knowledge of Karpovsky's real romantic history, I do believe that Red Flag was mostly shot during an actual theatrical tour of Woodpecker. Taking his cue from the neo-realists, Karpovsky intersperses his fictional characters within real settings and among real people. Then again, this might be another elaborately staged ruse along the lines of Woodpecker – so, maybe it is all just fiction.

Karpovsky wrestles with concept of truth on the personal level as well. Alex has a tendency to lie and exaggerate; we can only assume that this -- along with his incredibly self-involved, head-up-his-ass attitude -- is why he has such a difficult time convincing any of his friends to join him on tour. In addition to his fear of marriage, we can only assume that Alex's ex-girlfriend has grown tired of the perpetual charade, never knowing when to believe Alex and not knowing how to deal with his overinflated ego.

Red Flagevolves into a road movie with two -- then three, then four -- lost souls traveling in the same car together. Rachel, Henry (Onur Tukel) and River (Jennifer Prediger) propel Alex along the course of his narrative arc, but they each have arcs of their own with which they must contend. Their goals are to determine what relationships and love mean to them while doing their best to avoid a life riddled with loneliness.

FILM REVIEW: THE TRIP

Rob Brydon and Steve Coogan in The Trip.

One up falling down

By Don Simpson

Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon's uncanny chemistry was quite evident in Tristam Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story, and it only makes sense that director Michael Winterbottom would do his best to milk their personalities in a reprise performance, albeit without the ins and outs and pomp and circumstance of Laurence Sterne's post-modern-before-there-was-modern novel. This time around, Winterbottom keeps the hyphens to a minimum and opts to ground the narrative on a singular and logical plane of existence; well, other than a few dream sequences -- one featuring a brilliant cameo by Ben Stiller.

Steve (Steve Coogan) is commissioned to go road tripping across Northern England to critique six fancifully unique restaurants for the Observer. Steve's foodie American girlfriend, Mischa (Margo Stilley), was the original impetus behind Steve pitching this story, but she has recently returned to the U.S. to take a break from their relationship. Caught in a lurch -- he does not want to do this trip solo -- Steve phones Rob (Rob Brydon), a fellow thespian with whom Steve bickers and competes with non-stop. The Observer is picking up the tab for the expenses, and Steve is willing to split his wages with Rob 60/40. It is an offer that Rob cannot refuse, even if it means leaving his family behind.

Thus Steve and Rob commence their journey northward on a Monday morning. We quickly learn that Steve enjoys giving his passenger (and us) a verbal overview of all of the roads he will be taking to their next destination. (Steve also points out that he prefers traditional maps over GPS "sat maps".) As soon as they hit the misty moors, Steve turns on his preordained soundtrack of Joy Division's "Atmosphere" -- a music choice that Rob does not think suits their surroundings, but it does serve to bind this film to another in Winterbottom's oeuvre that also featured Coogan and Brydon, 24 Hour Party People. (You did not really expect Winterbottom to completely keep the Meta at bay, did you?)

Together Steve and Rob traverse painterly landscapes that one couldn't paint -- well, one could but it would not be the same -- and visit the homes of renowned poets such as Samuel Coleridge and William Wordsworth as well as other poetically historic landmarks such as Bolton Abbey. The shoddy-at-best cellphone reception in the desolate moors makes Steve's endless tug-o-war with his agents to pave the path towards acting success all that more difficult. At 44-years old (or he has been 41-years old for the last three years), Steve's separation with Mischa, strained relationship with his son, and the declining state of his acting career (he claims that he has lost countless roles to Michael Sheen) weigh heavily on him; so Steve contends with his mid-life existential crises by bedding beautiful women, drinking often, and getting stoned (according to Steve, "most creative people smoke marijuana or hash"). Rob, on the other hand, is a happily devoted husband and father, who seems perfectly content with the state of his career.

Road movies, buddy movies, foodie reality television shows -- as Rob says, "it is 2010, everything has been done before, all you can do is do it again, but better." But what has not been done before (at least not that I know of) is a combination road movie-buddy movie-foodie reality television show, and that is what Winterbottom sets out to do. But that is also somewhat deceiving, because even though Winterbottom shows us fleeting bits of back of the house food preparation, and allows the restaurants to announce each of their beautifully realized dishes to Steve and Rob (and therefore to us), The Trip is not actually about the food. Instead, the gorgeous restaurants and their culinary creations (such as a green alcoholic beverage that Rob compares to a "childhood garden") are utilized as a unique backdrop for some brilliant bits of purely improvised comedy. (Note: no one is credited as the writer of The Trip.) Sometimes a particular food will trigger a tangential conversation for a while, but the talk always seems to return back to Steve and Rob attempting to one-up each other with dueling impressions (of Michael Caine, Richard Burton, Al Pacino, Woody Allen and various James Bonds), reciting poetry, and riffing upon various permutations of made up dialogue (such as an epic pep talk before an epic battle, "To bed, gentlemen, for at daybreak we rise!"). The absurd banter is relentless -- as Steve comments to Rob, "It's really exhausting keeping all of this going, isn't it?" -- and often careens into becoming uncomfortably mean-spirited. It is perfectly clear that these "bumless chums" actually do care for each other; they might even admire each other's work. They just do not want to share a bed -- or even a hotel room -- no matter how large it is.

Steve is a bit too narcissistic and patronizing for my comedic tastes (that is also the only fault I have with the otherwise pitch-perfect Tristam Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story), even though it is often done for ironic effect. For example, Steve does not think well of actors and comedians who rely on impressions beyond the age of 40 -- a position that is purposely patronizing towards Rob, but loses significantly more weight each time Steve does an impression. Steve, who is from Manchester, also takes a few digs at Rob's home country of Wales, repeatedly stating that Northern England has as unique an identity as Wales does.

The Trip originally ran in Britain as a six-episode series for BBC and the theatrical version is a concatenated version of that series. Several critics have already noted that the relentless abrasiveness of Steve and Rob's bickering is better served in small doses, making the six-episode BBC series sound a bit more appetizing. Being that Winterbottom is serving the United States the whole enchilada in one 107 minute sitting is a curiosity to me. Tristam Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story did not do well in the U.S. theaters -- taking in a mere $1.25 million, and I do not see how The Trip will be any more appealing to American theatergoers. I, for one, enjoyed The Trip, but I often find myself in the minority when it comes to Winterbottom.