AUSTIN 2011: 6 MONTH RULE

Tyler (Blayne Weaver) in 6 Month Rule.

Trapped

By Don Simpson

The titular six month rule is one of many rules created and adhered to by Tyler (Blayne Weaver). It essentially states that after six months, anyone can recover from any relationship. Of course Tyler is a womanizing, commitment-phobic jerk who is unable (and unwilling) to maintain a relationship with any woman for more than six months. Heck, who needs a commitment when you have a sexy model, Wendy (Vanessa Branch), who waits around her apartment in lingerie hoping you will stop by for a “no strings attached” quickie? So, yes, of course Tyler would think relationships are not essential and easy to recover from!

But then fate rears its hand and determines that Tyler will meet Sophie (Natalie Morales) — who instead of being his “usual” type is his “real” type (ah, more warped Tyler logic to digest) — and he falls head over heels for her. This strange twist of fate occurs around the same time that Tyler’s best friend, Alan (Martin Starr), slips into a monotonic depression after a break-up with his long-term “mojito bitch” fiance, Claire (Jaime Pressly).

6 Month Rule is surprisingly formulaic for the first two acts, but then the final act surprisingly defies all conventional Hollywood rom-com/buddy movie tropes. In fact, if it was not for the final act — specifically the conclusion — 6 Month Rule would have never scored more than a four in my book. Sure the film has some interesting characters — notably Sophie — but it is really difficult not to be incredibly annoyed by Tyler. There is also a cartoonish “hipster singer-songwriter” character, Julian (Patrick J. Adams), who warrants nothing more than primal hatred and disgust. But then I eventually realized that all of the negative reactions I was having to the characters of Tyler and Julian were pre-planned by writer-director Blayne Weaver. These are characters whom we are not supposed to like. Sophie is the only sympathetic one; she is the most positively portrayed, the strongest and the most human. I also think that is why I respect Weaver’s third act so much; it reveals that everything I disliked about 6 Month Rule for the first two acts was purposefully designed that way. I fell into Weaver’s trap, and he certainly deserves some kudos for luring me in.

FILM REVIEW: WRECKED

Man (Adrien Brody) in Wrecked.

Road same

By Don Simpson

There is a wrecked car and two dead bodies: one in the backseat, one laying outside the car. The lone survivor, a nameless character (Adrien Brody), is pinned in the front passenger seat of the vehicle. Visibly bruised and bleeding, he tries as hard as he possibly can to get out of the car. It begins to rain and he finds himself cold and wet and just plain scared. His right leg is pinned somewhere underneath the glove compartment; his head is riddled with amnesia. He cries. He mutters curses. He moans. He writhes in pain. There is a pistol underneath the front seat. A female hiker (Caroline Dhavernas) appears to him. There is a mountain lion and a rifle-wielding man (Adrian Holmes).

What is real? What are his dreams or hallucinations? What the fuck?

This is a man who is existentially crippled by unhappy memories and ghosts of a guilty conscience. He repeatedly tries to come to terms with his situation, trying his best to hold off his ever-encroaching insanity. This is his Sisyphean purgatory; he is truly suffering for past deeds that he cannot recall, in this absurdly nightmarish version of solitary confinement.

Director Michael Greenspan's Wrecked finds itself in the casual victim pile of unfortunate timing, as we have all too recently seen two far superior films featuring a character trapped in a claustrophobic location (Danny Boyle's 127 Hours and Rodrigo Cortés' Buried) -- so, in this case, three is most definitely a crowd. Not quite as sublimely claustrophobic as Buried, this near-dialogueless anti-thriller directed by Greenspan deserves a certain amount of credit for sticking with its guns. Unlike 127 Hours, it is not until the closing minutes that we are given the opportunity to briefly escape our anonymous protagonist's hellish predicament (unfortunately, this one fleeting moment redeems our protagonist far too quickly).

Similar to James Franco in 127 Hours and Ryan Reynolds in Buried, Wrecked gives Brody ample opportunities to flash his impressive thespian chops, but other than Brody's intensely inspired performance, Wrecked does not have very much to offer its audience. Even during its relatively short running time of 90 minutes, I often found my attention wavering. I guess watching Brody sit in a car -- then drag himself around the forest -- is not mentally stimulating enough for me.