The 30th Best Move I Saw This Year: Green Lantern

Or rather:

In Defense of Rooney Mara

 

There was a minor internet scuffle last week about Rooney Mara’s comments on past roles – particularly her one-episode guest spot in “Law & Order: SVU” and the remake of Nightmare on Elm Street.

You may recall a similar kerfuffle last year when Shia LeBeouf took shots at both Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen and Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. He apologized that the Transformers franchise had lost his heart, and that Indiana Jones wasn’t any good either. He was roasted alive by the internet, and in a recent Entertainment Weekly interview with Steven Spielberg, the normally straightforward director said only “I’m not going to go there” when asked about the comments, as if the subject was much too painful to touch.    

What’s most interesting to me about these two events is how innocuous these comments actually are. In regards to Nightmare, Mara had only stated that, worried about the quality of the project, she’d sort of tried to sabotage her own audition by not giving it her all, and calling her "SVU" episode "ridiculous". After receiving some criticism, she later cleaned up her comments on “SVU” (supposedly she was calling humanity ridiculous as opposed to the episode’s storyline). LeBeouf’s comments are even more toothless – he was promising those disappointed with the second Transformers movie that the third one would be much better, and apologized for not performing better in Indiana Jones. His quote is “the actor's job is to make it come alive and make it work, and I couldn't do it. So that's my fault. Simple." Not much in the way of vitriol there.

I bring this up because there’s an unwritten rule in the film industry that the actor must constantly and unequivocally give their support to any film in which they appear. Depending on what these actors signed, it may in fact be a written one: most stars are contractually obligated to appear in promotion of the films they produced. Some actors are so good at this that their enthusiastic promotion becomes part of the decision to cast them (Tom Hanks, Will Smith), while other times an actor’s distaste for this process is so strong it becomes impossible for the audience to not pick it up (Harrison Ford being the best example). But that’s not what this is.

If Mara or LaBeaouf had said these things prior to their movie’s release, or in the weeks immediately following, there could be an argument that their comments affected the movie’s financial picture. But years after the fact, what damage could these comments possibly do?

If you read any of the angry posts about these two, you’ll find that most people’s thoughts seemed to run along the following lines: “you’re a famous actor, it’s a life millions of people want, why slam these jobs that so many people would do almost anything to have?” I understand that viewpoint. But I think the reason for their anger runs deeper than that.

Look, all of the movies we’ve discussed so far have been terrible. The comments Mara and LaBeouf said were perhaps the kindest things ever said about these movies. Indiana Jones was a terrible movie well before poor Shia ever appears on screen (the fridge scene locked that up), Transformers 2 was godawful even by the minimal standards we hold Michael Bay to, and horror fans hold this Nightmare remake roughly on the same level most people hold Pol Pot. So, so what if Rooney Mara thinks an episode of television where she played a skinny girl who killed fat people for being overweight is ridiculous? It is ridiculous. She’d be crazy not to think so.

What’s more, we eviscerate actors for appearing in these movies, in fact, we hold them personally responsible for their lack of quality. We call them sellouts and accuse them of mailing in performances or just showing up for the paycheck. When these movies fail, we blame the box office performance on the actors (“no one wanted to see them in this”). When a few of their movies fail in a row, we insist that these failings are the fault of the actors, and many an actor suddenly finds his or herself unemployed for reasons having very little to do with their talent and effort. It is a vicious business, and no one has ever had much sympathy for the famous.

Why don’t we value honesty from the actors that play these roles? A director can look back and admit his failings, a producer can talk about swings and misses, a movie studio can admit where they’ve dropped the ball. This week NBC’s entertainment chairman, Bob Greenblatt, admitted at the TCA that they’d had a bad fall, and he was praised to the skies for his honesty. But if Maria Bello were to take a shot at ‘Prime Suspect’ this spring, they’d hang her from a billboard.

You have to wait until the end of a distinguished career before you’re allowed to take shots, at which point it becomes charming. This is part of why we love Michael Caine so much.

Why did I bring this up instead of talking about Green Lantern? Well, mostly because Green Lantern isn’t very interesting to talk about. But also because the fact that it isn’t very interesting has little to do with Ryan Reynolds or Blake Lively.

I’ll defend those two and ignore the other actors in the film, since the two leads seemed to be the ones who shouldered all the blame, despite the fact that Mark Strong gave easily the weakest performance of his career. Peter Sarsgaard was also given a pass, since he’s Peter Sarsgaard and everyone loves him (that list includes me, so I have no trouble giving him a pass as well).

I don’t have the energy to get into all the reasons that people hate Blake Lively, but she falls into that category of lovely but moderately talented actresses that women seem to despise. In terms of talent, is the line between her and Sandra Bullock really all that wide? But Bullock is adored and admired and has an Oscar because of it, and Blake Lively has every piece of her life assumed to be a staged fame-grab, and also gets no credit for being actually pretty good in this terrible action movie.

Ryan Reynolds is a more interesting case. The argument about why Green Lantern failed seemed to whittle down to, “well, Ryan Reynolds isn’t actually a movie star”. As if that would matter. Movies franchises make stars, and not the other way around. No one has ever said, “let’s go see that new Tobey MacGuire/Daniel Radcliffe/Sam Worthington/Hayden Christensen movie,” yet somehow Spider-Man, Harry Potter, Avatar, and Star Wars managed to do just fine. Alice In Wonderland grossed over a billion dollars worldwide (ninth all time, by the way) without anyone ever feeling the need to crown Mia Wasikowska the new queen of Hollywood. In fact, I had to go look up how to spell her name just now, something I rarely have to do with Angelina Jolie.

Movies have buzz. People like the trailers, like the TV ads, hear good things about something, and go see the movies. The fact that John Carter will almost certainly bomb at the box office in a couple months doesn’t mean that Taylor Kitsch can’t ever be a movie star, it just means that no one wants to see an actor they barely know in some horrific-looking Star Wars/Waterworld thing. The public is smarter than movie studios think. We can spot a bad movie, Twilight excepted.

I, for one, eagerly await the next Ryan Reynolds movie*. He’s a fun actor and he doesn’t have to be a movie star for me to enjoy him. He just needs to be in a good movie.

Maybe when he is, he can admit that Green Lantern was pretty terrible. I won’t hold it against him.

 *wait, his next movie is Safe House. Never mind.

The 31st Best Movie I Saw This Year: Battle: Los Angeles

I knew I was in trouble with Battle: Los Angeles  from the outset.

The movie opens with our reluctant hero (Aaron Eckhart), the grizzled war veteran haunted by his past, having a meeting with a higher-up assigning him to a new spot behind a desk somewhere. Eckhart is reluctant, of course. He wants to be in the thick of battle, helping the cause. That ambush wasn’t his fault, dammit! But the officer’s hands are tied. “We all wish your men could’ve made it home, sergeant,” he says understandingly, the line so jarringly stilted that giggles sweep through the audience.

For the next five minutes, we meet the rest of Eckhart’s new team, a collection of stock characters so obvious that I was whispering predictions of their defining characteristic aloud as they appeared on screen. “That guy’s about to get married.” “That guy’s his best friend – and also his fiancé’s brother.” “That guy’s a desperate virgin.” “That guy’s one day away from retiring.” “That guy has lots of book knowledge but no fight experience. He’s gonna be the new commander.” “That guy’s wife is pregnant.” Not only was I never wrong, there was never a question that I would be. I could see this movie coming from a mile away.

 

The rest of the film is war movie gibberish, filled with jittery handheld camerawork and shouted military nonsense (“We are at Threat Con Delta! Move move move move move!”). When the aliens come (because of course it’s aliens), we spend the appropriate amount of time debating whether these are really aliens, where they come from, etc. There’s the obligatory shot of news reporters standing on the scene, getting footage of the alien ships landing, before they’re all killed and the signal disappears into static. And then the battle for Los Angeles is on. 

The advantage of all the frenetic camerawork is that its harder to spot plot holes, and yet there’s still plot holes aplenty: If you’ve come to earth to steal the water from the ocean, why would you land in the water immediately outside of LA? Why not somewhere in the middle of the gigantic Pacific ocean surrounding it? And if you’ve mastered space travel, why would the Air Force give you so much trouble? And especially, this logic: “we need to sneak up on them so they don’t see us.” “No problem. Let’s just all get on this bus. They won’t see a bus coming towards them.” The one that killed me was the way they chose to solve the classic “our soldiers are pouring ammunition into these aliens, but they won’t die!” They ended up autopsying an alien they find and discover that its heart is on “the other side of its chest.” Of course! Problem solved, guys.

By the time the film had descended into supposedly heroic one-liners (“We’ve already had our breakfast,” “I need you to be my little Marine”) it had already killed off most of its stock characters (oh, don’t write a letter to your wife and hand it to someone! Have you learned nothing from movies?). Not that it mattered, seeing as I never learned anyone’s name, including the main character’s. But then, why bother? The movie was never going to take itself seriously enough to try and make them actual people, anyway. Other than the fact that most of the characters die, the whole thing feels like a military recruitment video anyway, though mercifully without that Three Doors Down song. It’s all jingoism and no heart.

The 25 Best TV Episodes I Saw This Year (#17)

How I Met Your Mother - Bad News

When I first started this list (which began as a Top Ten list, naturally, before swelling to include other shows I felt I couldn’t leave out), it seemed that HIMYM was going to be left out in the cold entirely. The show had been in a narrative slump for so long that I seemed unlikely I’d find an episode strong enough to make the list. And then I remembered the multi-episode stretch at the end of last season where Marshall dealt with his father’s death, and I relented. 

The episode was helped (immeasurably) by Neil Patrick Harris playing an extra role: that of his German obstetrician doppelganger, the doctor helping Marshall and Lily with their infertility issues (the sight of Barney with a  beard and a German accent is irresistible). But it also featured Ted in his strongest role – encouraging supporter, as opposed to douchy lead (lotta douche-Ted the past few years). 

More memorably, this episode was framed by an intriguing (if distracting) visual metaphor. The show started with the number 50 visibly displayed on a pamphlet on the desk of the doctor’s office the show’s opening scene started in. As the show moved along, numbers appeared throughout the episode in various creative locations (i.e., an ad for 45¢ wings, Ted holding a book that said “The 40 Greatest Buildings In America”, the lotto numbers appearing on TV screens behind Robin), always counting inexorably down to zero. 

By the time the countdown finished, I was keyed up to see what exactly the big reveal would be. Since the episode was focused on Marshall and Lily’s infertility problems, all signs seemed to point to a big pronouncement one way or another. But instead, the show pulls the rug – Lily arrives at the bar to tell Marshall his father’s gone. As Jason Segel falls weeping into his wife’s arms, his repeated pronouncement – “I’m not ready, I’m not ready” – left me abruptly misty. Segel proved surprisingly up to the acting challenge that followed, his most interesting balance of humor and drama since Nick Andopolis.

HIMYM, it seems, hasn’t lost its fastball, its just forgotten how best to use it – see the mess that was all of the Jennifer Morrison episodes from last year, or the more recent, insulting rug pull that was Robin’s revelation that the children she was relating her story to in voiceover existed only in her head. A dose of reality is necessary in a good sitcom, but HIMYM shouldn’t forget we’re also here to watch Barney put on a beard to try to pass himself off as a German doctor, too.

I could not find anything to embed for this episode, so instead, let's go back to HIMYM's heyday. Let's go the mall, everybody!

The 25 Best TV Episodes I Saw This Year (#18)

Portlandia - Pilot

“Portlandia” is an odd beast, an uneven mishmash of sketches that start normal and get strange, and other sketches that start strange and get stranger. SNL’s Fred Armisen and Sleater-Kinney singer Carrie Brownstein are an odd but effective pairing – their comic sensibilities are obviously right in line with each other, though certainly Armisen is a good deal broader. While much of the first season was memorable (I especially liked “Put a bird on it!”), nothing matched the highs of the premiere episode, which featured a continuing storyline where Brownstein and Armisen go to a restaurant for chicken and eventually end up sister wives to Jason Sudekis’ creepy cult leader (don’t ask).

The best sketch, however, is the one that announced the show and explained the reason for setting a comedy show in the Great Northwest.

The 25 Best TV Episodes I Saw This Year (#19)

Louie - "Oh Louie, Tickets"

I didn’t watch nearly as much of this season of “Louie” as I should have, as it’s been generally agreed that this was the year that the show really found itself. During the first season, I’d tended to watch the stand-up bits and fast-forward through the rest of the show. The times I tuned in this year, though, I found the dramatic bits much stronger than they had been before.

This story in particular stands out, since everything that happens in this scene is absolutely true. A few years ago, the internet created a small kerfuffle over the rumor that Dane Cook had stolen jokes from Louis C.K., a rumor that proved understandably damaging to Cook’s reputation. In the stand-up world, from what I’ve seen, joke-stealing is held in the same sort of regard as bestiality, or the murder of a close family member. Look up anything on Carlos Mencia if you don’t believe me.

Partway through this episode, Louie and Cook sit down and dramatize the situation. Both sides state their case, no one concedes anything, and the scene finishes. It is possibly the most honest fictional scene in the history of television, since nothing other than the loose story it rides on (Louie needs Lady Gaga tickets) is invented. You spend most of the time watching the scene thinking, “how did this happen?” “How did Louie get Dane Cook to come and do this scene?” ”Do you think these guys really hate each other this much? How are they in the same room then?” 

I’ve watched this scene half a dozen times and gotten no closer to finding the answer to these questions. See for yourself.