WATCH THE SKIES: a review of "Take Shelter"

“TAKE SHELTER”
Written and Directed by Jeff Nichols
**** (four stars)

For the last several weeks, I have been reading and savoring the great Roger Ebert’s memoir Life Itself and for the purposes of this review, I wanted to illustrate one particular sentence in which he essentially describes his movie analyzing process. The words come from the brilliant movie critic, the late Pauline Kael, who once expressed to Ebert, “I go to the movie, I watch it and I ask myself what happened to me.” That sentence precisely describes my process when I compose these entries for myself and for you, dear readers. And as I sit at home nearly two hours after walking out of Writer/Director Jeff Nichols’ psychological drama “Take Shelter,” I can say that what happened to me still has me thoroughly shaken up.

“Take Shelter,” opens and closes in the throes of a man’s intimate yet epic nightmare, the kind of which that can still plague the dreamer long, long after waking. Michael Shannon stars as Ohio construction worker Curtis LaForche and at the beginning of the film we find him watching the clouds in the sky darken and begin to from into and ominously and oncoming storm. Rain begins to fall yet what wets Curtis’ clothes and skin are not simple raindrops but something that is the consistency of oil. Obviously, this is no ordinary summer storm and before long, Curtis awakens.

As if lost in a grim fog, Curtis arrives at the breakfast table with his loving family awaiting him. His wife Samantha (Jessica Chastain) serves him scrambled eggs and toast while their hearing impaired daughter Hannah (Tova Stewart) plays with the family German Shepherd, yet to Curtis, everything feels disturbingly wrong.

Curtis’ nightmares continue with threats of horrific storms, birds flying and circling overhead in unnervingly odd patterns, the family dog savagely attacking him, faceless strangers breaking into his truck and home and carrying his child away into the darkness, all of which habitually make Curtis late for work, and increasingly distant from his family and friends. The inner terror increases and his dreams begin to interfere with his daily life as hallucinations, seeing storm clouds that no one else can witness and hearing lurking thunder no one else can experience, threaten to take over his life.

I have to say that it is difficult to express much more about this film without delving into spoilers (even though a MAJOR point is revealed in the film’s trailer) but I will try my best. Let’s just say that Curtis reaches a crossroads where he has to uncover whether his dreams are the symptoms of a deteriorating psyche or whether the dreams are serving as a warning for an unspeakable cataclysm.

“Take Shelter” despite its omnipresent sense of doom is a film Nichols presents at its most humane. This is not a film about histrionics and apocalyptic special effects (although the cloud and bird effects and one moment set in Curtis’ living room are special indeed). “Take Shelter” is a distressingly quiet film, deliberately paced but always keeps the audience as unbalanced as poor Curtis. As soon as we feel that we have found our bearings, our perceptions are disturbingly altered all over again. The cinematic spell Nichols weaves is entrancing to the point of almost being lulled yet it is unnervingly terrifying.

The film’s humanity arrives in the form of Curtis’s devotion to his family and his unshakable desire to keep them safe at all costs. This craving need begins to consume him as he becomes increasingly focused on the building of a tornado shelter in the backyard. For all of the scenes where Curtis is building the shelter or spending night after night inside of the bunker like space, I was reminded profoundly of no less than Richard Dreyfuss’ iconic performance in Steven Spielberg’s masterpiece “Close Encounters Of The Third Kind” (1977). I would like for you to take a moment and remember how Dreyfuss seemingly descended into a level of madness as his mind and spirit were consumed with the image and re-creation of Devil’s Tower, from mashed potatoes to larger scaled sized versions inside and outside of his suburban home. Much like how Dreyfuss’ obsessions cost him his wife and children, Curtis’ pleas for safety also possesses an adverse effect as the stability of his marriage, his job (with crucial health insurance) is jeopardized as well as the ability to pay for a Cochlear implant surgical procedure for Hannah are all dramatically on the line.

I greatly appreciated how much “Take Shelter” is a deeply perceptive and sensitive drama about a debilitating mental illness like paranoid schizophrenia. I loved how Nichols utilized every dream sequence and especially each clap of thunder and flashing streak of lightning to serve as the potentially fractured state of Curtis’ mind. Most impressive is the actual tornado shelter itself, which may serve as a metaphor to the last piece of sanity Curtis desperately holds onto as the shelter is the area where his family is completely protected against whatever horrific disaster he fears will ultimately take them all away from him forever. The film’s near climax, set completely inside of the shelter, is the film at its most bracing as we, along with Curtis, are left to painfully ponder if the danger on the other side of the door is real or not and to find out, all we have to do is open that door. Nichols’ approached this sequence with Hitchcockian heft, urgency and almost unbearable terror as our collective imaginations are left to whisk us away to sights unmentionable.

When it is time to begin honoring the finest performances of 2011, I deeply hope that many accolades are delivered to Michael Shannon. After gaining notoriety in films like Sam Mendes’ “Revolutionary Road” (2008), Floria Sigismondi’s “The Runaways” (2010) and a recurring role upon Martin Scorsese’s HBO series “Boardwalk Empire,” it is more than pleasing to see Shannon in a leading performance, which he handles with incredible presence and heartbreaking power.

If you choose to see this film, please pay strict attention to Shannon’s wonderful body language. Watch Shannon’s jaw clench tighter, his elongated, hulking body constricting to the point of almost folding in towards itself, his footsteps grow increasingly tentative as if he fears that one wrong move will upend the world. And then, there is his voice and eyes which quiver, grow softer, and more frightened like a child gripped with the worst of night terrors. When he speaks, he is so gripped with fear that he can barely utter the words lest he unravel any remaining confidence his wife rests with him. It is a sensational, completely empathetic performance.

And so, taking a cue from Kael and Ebert, I feel that I need to express what happened to me as I watched “Take Shelter” in order to make this review feel complete. I have to say that like the character of Curtis, I too was gripped with an evolving sense of crippling fear. It was the fear of losing whatever control I thought that I had possessed over my life. It was the fear of loss and losing what was most important to me, whether through my own actions, through events entirely out of my control, or a mixture of both. It was the fear of holding so tightly onto my family and discovering that no matter how tightly I grasped, it was all for nothing. I found myself becoming paralyzed, weakened and filled with a sense of despair and helplessness as I empathized with Curtis’ horrible dilemma. And by the time the film reached its final moments, there was a fateful sense of resignation and surrender that felt ultimate and inevitable. Like I said, it all felt like being caught within an especially bad dream. And while this all sounds to be so unpleasant, it is definitely cinematic excellence as Jeff Nichols assures the audience that we are in the hands of a masterful storyteller.

“Take Shelter,” featuring the performance of Michael Shannon at its core, is an experience which builds supreme, mounting intensity and tension with absolutely no release or relief in sight. Combining an intimate family drama, an exploration of mental illness and an element of the most disquieting “Twilight Zone” episode you have ever seen, “Take Shelter” is the kind of cinema that grabs you and refuses to let go.

GOD, GAYS & GUNS: a review of "Red State"

“RED STATE”
Written and Directed by Kevin Smith
**** (four stars)

Now THIS is the Kevin Smith that I know!!

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, love or hate him, I firmly believe, and it cannot be denied, that Writer/Director Kevin Smith is one of the most unique creative voices working in American independent cinema today, as well as over a nearly 20 year period. Yet, in recent years, I have to admit that I have questioned Smith’s creative judgments and have actually worried a bit for him as his typically audacious, irreverent creative spark had been dampened by sub par material. Despite its flaws, I will not join the parade of “Jersey Girl” (2004) bashers, as I believe it to be as honest of a film as anything else he has ever created. But, after creatively treading water with the shamelessly so-so “Zack And Miri Make A Porno” (2008), releasing last year’s bankrupt “Cop Out,” and then announcing this summer that he would be retiring from filmmaking, I began to think that perhaps Kevin Smith’s best days as a filmmaking talent were fully behind him. However, I still carried a sense of hope…

You see, around four years ago or so, Smith cryptically teased his fan base by stating that a dark stylistic change was brooding upon the horizon as he would be making a “horror movie.” Now, that horror movie has, at long last, arrived in the form of “Red State,” a relentlessly grueling experience that marks a creative quantum leap forward for Smith. Not only is the film worlds away from his Salinger-esque “View Askewniverse” series of six films which began with the groundbreaking “Clerks” (1994), concluded with his superlative sequel “Clerks II” (2006) with no less than “Chasing Amy” (1997) and “Dogma” (1999) smack dab in the middle, it is not even a comedy or satire in any way, shape or form. “Red State” is indeed a horror movie but it is not the horror of the supernatural. It is a horror story starring the monsters that live within our society everyday. When I wrote about “Chasing Amy” recently for an installment of “Savage Cinema Revisits,” I remarked that I adored this cinematic love story so deeply because it was a fearless piece of work. With “Red State,” Kevin Smith has returned to his audacious roots and has arrived with his best film since “Chasing Amy.” For a story that plunges us so ferociously into the deep water nightmare of fear, Kevin Smith’s “Red State” is a brazenly, boldly fearless film experience. It is not for everybody but it is bracing, exciting cinema.

“Red State” opens within somewhat familiar Kevin Smith territory as we meet Travis (Michael Angarano), Jared (Kyle Gallner) and Billy Ray (Nicholas Braun), three Southern small town teenage boys in the midst of planning a salacious Friday night adventure with an unknown older woman advertising group sex through the internet. The threesome borrow Travis’ parents car and travel 30 minutes out of town into the even smaller location of Cooper’s Dell where they find a small trailer housing their internet sex date, an older woman named Sarah Cooper (Melissa Leo). Upon entering Sarah’s trailer, the three boys nervously drink beers as they await an evening of fornication yet as they begin to undress, all three pass out into unconsciousness as Sarah has drugged them.

Jared awakens to find himself trapped inside of a small covered cage, which is being wheeled into the tiny inner sanctum of the Five Points Church, the operation of Pastor Abin Cooper (Michael Parks), an organization with stockpiled weaponry that is so bigoted and violently racist that even the Neo Nazi movement has admonished them.

I dare to describe more of “Red State” to you so as to not produce any spoilers and also to not ruin the film’s jarringly effective story structure which takes some hard twists and turns. I will say that the great John Goodman figures into the film as ATF agent Joseph Keenan, who arrives at the Five Points Church compound after being notified of the teenagers disappearance. Soon thereafter, the situation descends into a level of violence akin to the Waco, Texas disaster.

Kevin Smith’s “Red State” is as brutal, uncompromising, unforgiving, and extremely violent as it is audacious, challenging, compelling and provocative. It is Kevin Smith’s most visually accomplished film by a long shot and his tightest directorial effort to date. It is firmly structured and executed with supreme confidence. And yes, it is as advertised. “Red State” in indeed a horror film as it is terrifying and will haunt you with feelings of dread long after the final credits have ceased to scroll. I always hoped and deep down I always knew that Smith had it inside of him to produce a work that places most films released today into shame due to their lack of creativity and risks. Time and again throughout his career, Smith has played by his own storytelling rules and has taken the level of creative risks that Hollywood has long seemed to have forgotten about and “Red State” is no exception. What begins as a bit of a romp, quickly zigs into terror and zags into an action thriller and then changes once again with moments that recalled Director Michael Tolkin’s disturbing religious drama “The Rapture” (1991), while always being consistent with itself. It never feels as if you are watching four different movies, as the complete story follows its own logical arc with precision. Smith constantly keeps you off guard and I am stunned with many of the storytelling decisions he made, which of course, I will never reveal here. Let’s just say that I jumped and gasped more times than I thought that I would and I was amazed with the increased skill Smith has now shown as a filmmaker.

Yet, one skill in particular that Smith has always adhered to is his ability of providing his cast with copious amounts of material for them to sink their acting teeth into and with “Red State,” there is plenty enough to chomp and to have seconds. This is a skill I have long appreciated from filmmakers like Smith and of course, Quentin Tarantino because as I have often lamented on this site, I grow so irritated when filmmakers hire actors and have them do absolutely nothing but lazily cash their paychecks. No such passivity lurks in any corner with “Red State” as Michael Parks as Pastor Abin Cooper gives a performance of such towering strength, horrific power and tangible, realistically luscious evil. He is flat out sensational and while I know that this will never happen due to the film’s tiny theatrical release, he deserves an Oscar nomination for his work.

Pastor Abin Cooper, who has been loosely based upon real world infamous hate speech preacher Fred Phelps, is simultaneously charismatic, chilling, and disturbingly calm, whether spouting endless amounts of hate speech to a small yet completely devoted congregation or even surrounded by a hail of bullets. His supreme sense of self-righteousness is the frightening core to this character as he is no one that can possibly ever be reasoned with because he truly believes that his actions are divinely inspired.

He burrows under your skin so effortlessly especially when he sings spirituals in the film. His voice, his gravelly Southern voice, is so cold, so barren of actual rhythm and melody to the point that it is almost atonal feels like the darkness of an empty grave. But I would say that Parks’ tour de force is actually his very first scene in “Red State” during which he delivers a staggeringly well written and nearly 15 minute monologue. His sermon and his congregation’s reaction towards it reminded me quite a bit of Directors Rachel Grady and Heidi Ewing’s incredibly unnerving documentary “Jesus Camp” (2006) most notably in regards to how children are unwittingly indoctrinated into the world of hate, racism, intolerance and violence all in the name of God. It was so fascinating to see how Abin Cooper could playfully cajole his grandchild with jokes abut “Popeye” and seamlessly segue into a speech about God’s wrath, our need to forever fear God, to somehow discover the devotion and love inside of that fear and then to utilize this fear to eradicate “the homosexual element” from the Earth. And THEN, he’ll shoo the children from the congregation, explaining that “it’s about to get real grown up in here.” Michael Parks is so undeniably mesmerizing during this sequence that as he speaks, it was quite some time before I even noticed that there was a white cloaked figure standing directly behind him, a figure soon to be revealed as a sacrificial male victim tied to the cross in Saran Wrap with a ball gag stuffed into his mouth.

Conceptually, “Red State” is a film of such unrelenting bleakness that essentially none of the characters walks away easily…if at all. Every character in the film is undone by their respective allegiances to sex, religion or the government and with the way Smith constructs his story, he forces us the audience to find our allegiances slightly sliding back and forth between various parties and perceptions. I found it to be quite clever how Smith played with the horror film convention of randy teenagers being punished for their natural, emerging sexual emotions to the point that “Red State” can work as a film of sexual paranoia as much as Director Adrian Lyne’s “Fatal Attraction” (1987) was.

Furthermore, and most importantly there is the nature of evil and Hell itself to deal with. Kerry Bishe gives a frantically intense performance as Cheyenne, Sarah Cooper’s daughter, Pastor Abin Cooper’s granddaughter and caretaker of the compound’s small children. Once the Feds have been ordered mission to destroy the Cooper compound, killing everyone in sight solely in order to eliminate any potential witnesses to their own tragic errors, she makes a great case to another character (and again, the audience) for protecting the children from harm. And then, you are asked to question which organization is more monstrous: The Five Points Church, a group that promotes their anti-homosexual agenda at the funerals of dead homosexuals or the government enforcing a political agenda by any means necessary. This conceit even recalled for me noting less than Stanley Kubrick’s “A Clockwork Orange” (1972) which provided a similar conundrum by forcing us to almost sympathize with the young ruthless rapist Alex (Malcolm McDowell) as he is being subjected to government-induced torture with the intent of “curing” his violent tendencies.

Kevin Smith cleverly underlines the entire proceedings with an Old Testament styled biblical framework as the bloodbath works as modern day “fire and brimstone.” Beyond the violence, “Red State” is a film that takes us to Hell while asking us exactly what does Hell represent? For Abin Cooper, obviously Hell is the existence and prominence of anything an deveryone that does nto view the world as he and his flock. To the teenagers, it is the world that unwittingly found themselves trapped inside of. For ATF agent Keenan, Hell may represent the forced adherence to government polities and orders at the expense of human life. And for one character, Hell may be living the life of a closeted homosexual feeling, while being trapped in a heterosexual marriage.

For me, there are many forms of Hell but one in particular is a world where figures like Abin Cooper are able to run rampant, injecting their personal and righteous brand of sadistic venom into a culture that has no use for it whatsoever. The sickness of people who use the Bible as a weapon and as a shield to hide their own bigotry and intolerance is more than evil. It is abominable.

To those who feel that religious fanatics are nothing more than an easy target for satire or political horror and that Kevin Smith is really not being as provocative as he may believe himself to be, well, I offer the following. Kevin Smith’s “Red State,” from its very title to the full execution of the film as a whole, is indicative of some very nasty business occurring within our society at this time. Figures like Abin Cooper will always exist upon the fringes but, I just think that we all need to be realistic, dear readers. The fringes have moved into the mainstream with a vengeance. I do not wish to sound hyperbolic and also I do not wish to proselytize but the truth of the matter is that we have political leaders in and outside of America committing acts of war and violence, solely because those people truly believe that they are doing the work of their chosen deity. Of course, that is nothing new. But what is happening now in 2011 that is truly frightening to me is that political leaders are infusing an extremist evangelical set of beliefs into our political process. And furthermore, we currently have one woman with a husband utilizing federal funds to run and operate a clinic where homosexuality can be “prayed away” and a standing Governor, who has overseen more executions than any other Governor in our nation’s history, who possesses a hunting ground bearing the name of “Niggerhead” as viable PRESIDENTIAL candidates. Tell me, does Abin Cooper seem that far fetched now?

As far as I am concerned, “Red State” could not be more timely, more necessary and in the case of Kevin Smith’s filmmaking career, this film could not have arrived at a better time. I always knew that he could pull it off!!!!

SAVAGE POSTSCRIPT:
So, if this review has whetted your cinematic appetite, how can you see “Red State” as it is currently not playing in theaters at all. Well, as audacious as the film itself happens to be, Kevin Smith’s release strategy was equally audacious. After the film’s premiere this past January at the Sundance Film Festival, Smith infamously purchased the distribution rights to the film himself for the whopping total of $20. He then circumvented the standard movie release system by taking his film upon a nationwide traveling roadshow tour. As of this point in time, “Red State” is available on DVD and Blu-Ray and you may also view the film through your cable company or satellite provider’s On Demand feature, I-Tunes, Netflix Streaming or Amazon.com Instant Video.

STORM THE CASTLE: a review of "Tower Heist"

“TOWER HEIST”
Story by Adam Cooper & Bill Collage and Ted Griffin
Screenplay Written by Ted Griffin and Jeff Nathanson
Directed by Brett Ratner
*** (three stars)

Talk about the right movie at the right time.

As the class warfare between the respective members of the 99% and the top 1% of this country wages onwards and with no apparent signs of ceasing anytime soon, Director Brett Ratner has arrived with “Tower Heist,” a hugely entertaining and most topical caper comedy that I feel will assist to alleviate some of the rancor that continues to permeate our society. Aiding Ratner in his cinematic quest for comedic gold is an excellent all star cast including the grand return of Eddie Murphy as the type of fast talking, streetwise character we have not seen him perform on screen in far too long.

I realize when most cinephiles hear the name of “Brett Ratner,” they cringe as horrifically within their cinema adoring bones just as violently as I do whenever I hear the name “Michael Bay” attached to absolutely anything that involved a movie camera. Granted, Ratner is not the first filmmaker I would think of in regards to achieving any sort of cinematic artistry, no matter the genre. There are very few films of his that I have actually liked yet I must say that any of my personal criticisms are tossed out of the window whenever I watch either of the first two of his “Rush Hour” movies. While more than a little impersonal, Brett Ratner is indeed a surprisingly strong craftsman. Although “Tower Heist” does not touch the gold standards set by films like John Landis’ social comedy classic “Trading Places” (1983), Mike Judge’s cubical satire “Office Space” (1999) or Steven Soderbergh’s outstanding “Ocean’s Eleven” (2001), Ratner, along with his screenwriters and entire cast, has delivered what may be his best effort to date.

Ben Stiller stars as Queens native Josh Kovacs, the diligent manager of an exclusive high-rise complex called “The Tower” (obviously a stand in for Trump Towers). Kovacs is respected by his clients as well as his staff, which includes Concierge and expectant Father, Charlie Gibbs (Casey Affleck), newly hired bellhop Enrique (Michael Pena), Jamaican maid Odessa (Gabourey Sidibe) and retiring doorman Lester (Stephen Henderson). The most notable resident of The Towers is wealthy businessman Arthur Shaw (a terrifically duplicitous and unctuous Alan Alda) who has befriended Kovacs on the basis of their respective working class roots.

One day, Kovacs and the tenacious FBI agent Claire Denham (Tea Leoni) catch Arthur Shaw attempting to fee New York City because it has been revealed that he has been accused of a Ponzi scheme a la Bernie Madoff. To make mattes more personal for Kovacs and the working class staff of The Towers, Kovacs had once authorized Shaw to invest the complete sum of their respective pension funds and now, it appears that Shaw has lost every single penny.

Arthur Shaw is eventually placed under house arrest in his penthouse apartment while Kovacs and his friends, which now includes the disgraced and destitute Wall Street financier Mr. Fitzhugh (a petulantly persnickety Matthew Broderick), decide to plot the ultimate caper: to steal Shaw’s safety net of $20 million dollars from his apartment.

To assist the rag tag and completely unprepared crew for their crime, which they hope to enact during the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, Kovacs turns to childhood acquaintance and current petty thief Slide (Eddie Murphy) for counsel and assistance.

With “Tower Heist,” Brett Ratner has made a lean, fast paced, highly efficient, clean, clear-eyed comedy filled with smart, sharp screenwriting, and well-staged, choreographed and executed action set pieces. Despite the fact that it is a comedy, I have to say that I actually did not laugh that much, perhaps due to the fact that so many of the film’s best jokes are all included in the film’s trailer. Even so, my enjoyment of the film as a whole was not dampened because Ratner, his screenwriters and his entire cast operated in complete creative and comedic lockstep. Ratner created a world that was grounded within a certain reality, the characters all seemed to function as realistic human beings with realistic problems, ambitions, and foibles, all character motivations were cleanly and clearly established as well as adhered to throughout the entire story. In regards to the actual caper itself, it all felt to be somewhat plausible for a story such as this one. And while I realize that some plot holes may arrive if I think about it too long, the story felt emotionally true as Ratner gave us a collective of characters we cannot help but to identify with and root for.

Recently, I have written some reviews where I have complained about the lack of a consistent tone which made for erratic experiences of varying quality overall. My hat is indeed taken off to Ratner for always ensuring that the story and characters of “Tower Heist” remained consistent with itself from the very first frame to the final image. His casting for this project is impeccable. I greatly appreciated how Ben Stiller eschewed his standard put upon nebbish role by taking full and convincing command not only as the hotel manager but also as the criminal mastermind. We can see his sense of responsibility for the people who worked for him and the guilt he carries for inadvertently playing a part in all of them losing every cent they rightfully and honestly earned. I especially loved the early sequence that pits him against Alan Alda and places his character’s prized Ferrari (supposedly once owned by Steve McQueen) front and center. The righteous anger felt justifiably real while also containing moments designed to have any 99% per centers in the audience raise the roof in applause. Yet, Ratner never forgets that he’s first and foremost a showman and that sequence is expertly staged, convincingly written and it hits all of the right acting beats and comic motivations.

The entire cast not only fully embody their roles, they completely work together beautifully as a well-oiled team. “Tower Heist” is not one of those shameless paycheck movies where an all star cast is placed upon the screen solely to try an ensure behemoth box office receipts, all with little to no acting effort involved. In “Tower Heist,” every participant came to work…or play, for that matter and the collective camaraderie shows, instilling tremendous warmth and again, affording the audience a group of people to root for. Eddie Murphy in particular should be noted for his efforts, as he, never for an instant, attempts to steal the movie for himself-although whenever he opens his mouth, the whole movie is his. Murphy reminds us once again how skilled of an actor and therefore, a team player he actually is and it is a tremendous pleasure to be able to witness the unquestionable and completely unique talent he is and possesses. Of course, his character of Slide is meant to have us recall his classic characters of Axel Foley from the “Beverly Hills Cop” series, Billy Ray Valentine from “Trading Places” and certainly, Reggie Hammond from Director Walter Hill’s “48 Hrs.” (1982), Murphy’s astonishing film debut and for my money, it still remains his best film and performance to date. But, this is no toothless throwback as Slide completely works as a real contemporary 21st century character within the world of “Tower Heist”

And yet, I gave this film only three stars. albeit a strong three stars as this is rock solid entertainment that never truly strikes any false notes throughout. I suppose that in some aspects, Ratner’s desires and talents as a craftsman and showman somehow undercut any certain creative risks that would have made this film a true standout. He is a crowd pleaser and certainly wants to get the most for his buck. Let’s be real, “Tower Heist” is designed to be a big budget holiday comedy. So, any humor that is raunchier, more savage or dangerous, that is the humor that would most certainly afford this PG 13 rated film an R rating, would have to be excised to not offend or alienate the masses. I can understand that but it is also a bit of a shame as I could imagine what an edgier filmmaker would or could do with similar material. What kind of comedic teeth could be viciously bared for a story such as this one, especially one that has arrived during this extremely contentious period in our nation’s history. I missed those teeth, and the qualities that have made films like “Trading Places,” “Office Space” and “Ocean’s Eleven” endure. The lack of those edgier qualities made “Tower Heist” a somewhat safer experience and I don’t think that a story like this needs to be safe.

That said, there is indeed a worthy anger in this comedy along with a sense of community and togetherness that affords “Tower Heist” a substantial amount of good cheer. Ben Stiller, Eddie Murphy and the entire cast, from the main players to the supporting members, instill brains, heart and especially in the case of Stephen Henderson, some much needed soul!

Like I said, “Tower Heist” is the right movie at the right time. Not the best one…but the right one, all the same.

AT LEAST THEY GOT THE "STUPID" PART RIGHT: a review of "Crazy, Stupid, Love"

“CRAZY, STUPID, LOVE”
Screenplay Written by Dan Fogelman
Directed by Glenn Ficara & John Requa
*½ (one and a half stars)

Has the state of modern cinema grown so pitiful that nearly anything that does not fall into the quicksand trap of genre clichés to which we have all grown tiredly familiar receives a copious (and, at times, undeserved) amount of praise?

Take this fall’s atmospheric thriller “Drive,” for instance. Yes, I did like that movie and I did give it a positive review, which I still stand by. But, my admiration for it was soft at best and frankly, I haven’t even thought about it much since having seen it. The purpose of mentioning “Drive” was that the reviews for that film from major film critics across the country were essentially a series of raves. Four stars here. Four stars there. Peter Travers of Rolling Stone magazine proclaimed that “Drive” is one of the best films of 2011 and that Albert Brooks deserves an Oscar nomination for ging against type by portraying a crime boss. Now, dear readers, I do understand and completely acknowledge that everyone is entitled to their opinion but sometimes, I do have to shake my head in disbelief. “Drive” was a film that stepped outside of the “been there done that” world of action thrillers just enough that it gave the impression of being a fresh experience…although it was a complete homage to thrillers of the 1980s, therefore making “Drive” not nearly as original as those reviews would like for you to believe.

So, now I turn to Directors Glenn Ficara & John Requa’s “Crazy, Stupid, Love,” the latest entry into the romantic comedy-drama genre. While the box office for this film was so-so when it was released this summer, the critical praise was uncommonly high for a film of this nature. The consistent level of high praise did make me very curious to see if this film could transcend the typical inane, contrived, and flat out unrealistic characters and situations that have run rampant in recent movie love stories. Now having seen the film for myself, and as you may have witnessed from my star rating, you can tell that I did not find this film to be a successful one at all. But, I can see how the film could have received such praise because it does, at least, make an attempt to be about real people and real emotions, something most movie love stories as of late have completely forgotten about. I could see that for so many of these critics, that the proceedings of “Crazy, Stupid, Love” felt so refreshingly honest when compared to the endless tripe which stars Katherine Heigl, Sandra Bullock, or Kate Hudson. Maybe so…but when the film has to stand on its own two cinematic feet, I just felt that it was not nearly as refreshingly honest as it absolutely had to be and it made for an experience that, while being a hair better than the works of Heigl, Bullock and Hudson, it’s not by much at all.

Steve Carell and Julianne Moore star as Cal and Emily Weaver, a married couple who first fell in love during high school. As the film opens, Cal and Emily are out of a dinner date when Emily gives Cal the shock of his life: she has cheated on him with her office mate David Lindhagen (Kevin Bacon) and now, she wants a divorce. The wounded Cal soon moves out of his home, obtains an apartment and begins to frequent a nearby bar to drown his sorrows and to speak to anyone about his troubles. Cal soon catches the attention of the bar playboy Jacob Palmer (Ryan Gosling), who takes pity upon Cal and decides to give him a "male makeover," which includes shopping for an entirely new wardrobe and being schooled in the attitude necessary to bed different women night after night.

The pains of love are extended beyond Cal and Emily as the film also sets its sight upon their 13 year old son Robbie (Jonah Bobo), who nurses an unrequited crush upon 17 year old babysitter Jessica Riley (Analeigh Tipton), who herself nurses her own secret crush upon Cal!

Emma Stone figures into the story as law student Hannah, who is currently hoping for a marriage proposal from her dry boyfriend Richard (Josh Groban) and has even once rejected the aggressive advances of Jacob. Yet, as her marriage desires fall apart, she drunkenly reciprocates Jacob’s original advances and the twosome becomes a couple thus forcing Jacob to re-evaluate his sexual and romantic motivations and perceptions.

Now, all of this makes for a series of storylines that would go right up my cinematic alley as there is essentially nothing on the surface of “Crazy, Stupid, Love” that would allow for the types of inane, contrived and flat out unrealistic characters and situations that are the romantic comedy staples as of late, to arrive. For me, Steve Carell is the film’s high point by far, as he easily conveys the hurt and disillusion of a man who has been betrayed by the only woman he has ever loved. He finds the right notes to play and the exact kernels of truth from one end of this film to another by dialing down his comedic mania and bringing out a level of sensitivity that immediately places the audience into his corner. He is a good man and we really do not want to see him hurt. I especially enjoyed the scenes between him and Jonah Bobo as they created a convincing Father/son bond and the tricky situation of not damaging his son’s impressions and outlook upon the nature of love, especially as he is going through a devastating period himself.

So, what a shame it is that “Crazy, Stupid, Love” lets him down tremendously by injecting so much of that annoying amount of contrivance instead of the emotionally truthful and it made the overall experience of the film increasingly irritating, artificial and more than a little stupid. It’s one of those movies where the only characters that seem to exist in its cinematic world are the ones that only matter to the actual plot (I mean, doesn’t Robbie have any friends at school, for instance?). As the film continues, Ficara and Requa via Dan Fogelman’s screenplay, force characters to have connections with each other in a way that only occurs through a Script Writing class. The film’s final moment between eight grader Robbie and high school student Jessica is a disaster as it could have been a beautifully bittersweet moment depicting those first difficult steps into love. But as it stands, it is a scene that is ultimately nothing more than a teenage boy wish fulfillment fantasy that, not only would NEVER happen, but just doesn’t have a place in a film that proclaims that it wants to examine the messiness of love by having a story with infidelity and divorce at its core.

Marisa Tomei, who arrives in the movie as Cal’s first date since his separation from Emily, is completely wasted in the film as a character who begins as a realistic portrayal yet quickly ends up as a cartoon. For an actress who carries such presence on screen combined with an increasing mature attractiveness, her character could have added deeper layers to the story. But no, her performance is essentially what you saw in those endless advertisements for the film and she just grows more unrealistically unhinged as the film lopes along. Tomei deserves so much better!

While much praise has been heaped upon Ryan Gosling’s performance (and yes, it is a good one), I just could not buy this character at all because his desire to give Cal a makeover arrives without any realistic motivation whatsoever. I just could not understand WHY this womanizer would even give a man like Cal the time of day let alone want to take him under his wing to boot. Although Carell and Gosling do share some strong comedic chemistry and they do what they can to sell this material, it all felt to be so false.

Worst of all, “Crazy, Stupid, Love” just pays lip service to the heartache and confusion of love without seeming to understand it even one bit as it trumps any moments of real heart for sub standard comedy and ridiculous situations that just made me roll my eyes, shift in my seat uncomfortably and slap my forehead in disbelief. Of course, this story can be mined for comedy, it doesn’t have to be so crushingly serous. But none of the comedy felt honest and frankly, so very little of it was actually funny at all. Nearly everything in “Crazy, Stupid, Love” was so trite, so bland, so vanilla, so cloyingly safe and so unwilling to get its cinematic hands emotionally dirty that the whole escapade is all for nothing. It actually reminded quite a bit of Director Sam Weisman’s divorced Dad comedy “Bye, Bye Love” (1995), a supremely wasted opportunity and giant piece of cinematic Wonder Bread if there ever was one. In short, “Crazy, Stupid, Love” offers sitcom solutions to very real problems.

Which is a shame as “Crazy, Stupid, Love” does offer quite a few strong scenes, including one featuring Cal and Emily talking about the trajectories of their lives as they sit outside of the middle school principal’s office. A scene at the neighborhood bar, very late in the film, between Cal and Jacob is also strong. And I would say that the film’s very best sequence is the evening long courtship between Jacob and Hannah. Not only does Emma Stone elevate every scene in which she appears, it also allows Ryan Gosling to show greater and deeper layers to his otherwise one-note character. They have chemistry to burn and I would hope that some filmmaker out there would like to tap into their combined energy and give them real characters and a real story to be a part of.

It was during those aforementioned scenes that I began to have the feeling that the film was about to really go somewhere special. But then, the cartoon contrivances settled in once again, creating yet another bubble headed candyfloss hearted romantic comedy world where everything can be magically fixed at the most improbable moment, in this case, a painfully unrealistic eight grade graduation ceremony were certain characters are in attendance solely to allow the plot threads to forcefully connect again.

Look, I realize that I am being quite hard upon this movie, especially one that is decidedly non-controversial. But, dear readers, I am this harsh because “Crazy, Stupid, Love” had to much potential to be more than it was. It did try but it just kept undercutting its own ambitions to be greater than what usually arrives in our theaters. And the film’s constant unwillingness to burrow deeply into romantically uncomfortable waters, for comedy, for drama and for emotional truth itself, became depressingly tiring.

THE INTELLECTUAL SPIRITUALITY OF THE QUIET BEATLE: a review of "George Harrison: Living In The Material World"

“GEORGE HARRISON: LIVING IN THE MATERIAL WORLD”
Directed by Martin Scorsese
*** ½ (three and a half stars)

“There are many roads up the same mountain.”
-Buddhist proverb

In our increasingly divisive modern times, I have to say that as much as I detest the lack of seriousness and respect given towards scientific facts from those on the more evangelical side of the street, I detest the lack of seriousness and respect given towards spirituality from those who revere the world of science perhaps even more. Please allow me to use Bill Maher as an example. Yes, I think he is an absolutely brilliant satirist and I never miss an episode of his weekly HBO program. But, over the years, he has shown more than a few cracks in his armor for my tastes. The fact that he is an atheist concerns me not a whit. What does concern me is his attitude, not necessarily towards religion and spirituality, but his attitude towards those people that do believe in some sort of a higher power at all. I am reminded of a time when he was due to interview Bill Moyers and the excitement he had concerning this particular interview was palpable. Yes, he did say something that irritated me to no end. While he respected Moyers immensely, he could not understand how someone who was obviously so intelligent could ever believe in God.

For me, as I have aged, I have found and believe that the worlds of science and spirituality are not mutually exclusive. I believe that not only are both worlds able to easily co-exist, they constantly work in tandem. Beyond that, I just feel that no matter how much scientific evidence and facts you have on your side, not everything can be explained. And perhaps, maybe some things are not even meant to be explained. Sometimes, things just ARE. Furthermore, and religious fanatics, closet racists and fear mongers aside, what does Maher’s atheism have to do with anyone else’s spirituality in the first place? What threat is it to him? Maher’s beliefs are his own just as my beliefs are my own. While I must stress that none of this was presented to initiate a theological debate, all I wish to express is simply this: There are many roads up the same mountain.

Recently, I had the sublime pleasure of viewing Martin Scorsese’s sprawling, two part, three and a half hour new documentary “George Harrison: Living In the Material World,” which explores the lifelong inner odyssey of the man forever known as “The Quiet Beatle.” As I poured through the film, I could not help myself but to often wonder what Bill Maher would have thought of a man like George Harrison. A man who rejected his Catholic upbringing because he found it foolish to believe in a certain spirituality without ever having proof but later embraced Indian culture and spirituality because through that religion, he found, without any doubts, that he had all of the proof that he needed to believe. What we witness through this film is a man’s spirituality that was formed through supreme intellect and not the supernatural.

In the documentary, Paul McCartney explains that he likened The Beatles to the shape of a square with each corner showing massive importance to the existence of that square as a whole. If one corner vanished, the entire shape would crumble. While I am as familiar with the story of The Beatles as a complete entity as I am with a classic fairytale or bedtime story, “George Harrison: Living In The Material World” attempts to provide a more individualistic approach. Scorsese opens his film as you may expect, with Harrison’s birth after the end of World War II, his early life and his subsequent bonding with fellow Liverpool natives and budding musicians John Lennon and Paul McCartney. From here, Scorsese chooses to travel through Harrison’s life in a most fascinating way.

“George Harrison: Living In The Material World” is a more anecdotal, conversational experience which therefore bypasses the standard dry documentary narrative to which we have all grown so familiar. Harrison’s widow, Olivia Harrison graciously opened up their personal archives and vaults to Scorsese and his team and what results for the viewer is a treasure trove of George Harrison’s personal home movies, photographs, writings, letters, and audio material.

In addition to speaking with Olivia Harrison and son Dhani Harrison (whose resemblance to his late Father is eerie), Scorsese also has gained access to new interviews with no less than the aforementioned McCartney, Ringo Starr and Yoko Ono, of course. Scorsese additionally, features many passages with a beautifully relaxed and open Eric Clapton, bassist Klaus Vormann, percussionist Ray Cooper, drummer Jim Keltner and even members of Monty Python’s Flying Circus, whom Harrison befriended as he ventured into film production for “Monty Python’s Life Of Brian” (1979) and Director Terry Gilliam’s “Time Bandits’ (1981).

Whether knowingly or not, as Scorsese has declared that the film was essentially being written during the editing stages, he has wonderfully delivered the life story of a man which allows itself to digress at will, follow side stories and narrative back alleys, moving backwards and forwards in time creating a sense of an everlasting NOW. Somehow, I have this feeling that is exactly the way George Harrison just may have wanted a film of his life to function.

Incidentally, I think that Scorsese has created a film that not only falls directly in line with the spiritual themes that are a constant of his own cinematic oeuvre, but most importantly, it is a film that just may approximate the type of spirituality George Harrison was attempting to achieve during his time here on Earth. I have to say that I have come to this observation because I watched this film very slowly, over a period of one week. In doing so, I found myself re-watching passages, re-watching sequences, trying to unearth the threads of the film and the man himself and I have to stay that this constant rumination made for a stirring experience.

During the lengthy sections detailing his life as a member of The Beatles, I found a new perspective upon how their unique experience affected them as individuals and how that experience may have formed Harrison’s spiritual quest. Once the Fab Four reached the top of the world with money, fame, and all of the Earthly goods they could possibly wish for and receive, almost at will, Lennon, McCartney, Starr and Harrison were forced to essentially ask of themselves, what more is there to life when you already have it all? Is this all there is? From here, Scorsese gives us a window into George Harrison’s determination to maintain an individualistic status while also being part of a group.

By the accounts given throughout the film, George Harrison was always an innovator, forward thinking, charming, mercurial, and sardonically funny as hell. As he aged, Harrison eschewed anything he felt to be a distraction from what was truly important in life. He eventually avoided awards ceremonies, performed music solely on his terms and enjoyed meditation, planting trees and caring for his estate at Friar Park, even in the moonlight. Certainly, George Harrison was completely giving of himself, to not only those he loved but to the world. For instance, the 1971 Concert For Bangladesh he organized with musician Ravi Shankar, an event which was the first of its kind and the blueprint for all benefit concerts which are now commonplace. As far as Harrison was concerned, if his level of celebrity could shine a deserving light upon people and places so desperately in need, then so be it.

Scorsese shows that it was an ambition of George Harrison to create beauty in the material world so blindingly wonderful that it would provide a sense of spiritual transcendence or heaven on earth. As far as I am concerned, every single note of music he recorded with The Beatles and much of his solo material accomplished that very feat. But for Harrison, the sense of transcendence occurred far beyond mere music. George Harrison was attempting to somehow make every moment he lived an extreme one, an intense one, filled with an almost over-powering emotion that one could catch a glimpse of what lies beyond what we can actually see and hear. To discover that beauty is a feat any of us could potentially attain and perhaps that constant search is what binds him to all of us for we all grow, change, experience, succeed and fail as we travel through our lives, hopefully achieving a newfound sense of meaning and purpose along the way. He was of us but not one of us, in a sense. Or as he states in his own words, he always tried to “be in the world yet not of the world.” Harrison was perceived as mystical but he was indeed populist as he simply desired all of us to find what he found, to seek what he sought in our own individualistic ways. Again and simply stated, there are many roads up the same mountain.

Furthermore, throughout George Harrison’s life, absolutely everything was designed to prepare himself for his individualistic moment of death. Yet, this was not experienced as a morbid fascination but again as one of spiritual transcendence as he just wanted to be in a state of mind and soul where he would leave the material world and potentially do so without fear but with anticipation. It’s all there in the lyrics for songs like “All Things Must Pass,” “The Art Of Dying” and especially “My Sweet Lord” when he sings, “I really want to see you. I really want to be with you. But it takes so long, my Lord.”

As I previously stated, Martin Scorsese has created a film that is more anecdotal and what great anecdotes that are shared with us! These include, but are not limited to, how Harrison coped during the infamous love triangle between Harrison, his first wife Pattie Boyd and close friend Clapton, who fell hopelessly in love with Pattie, thus inspiring the epic love song “Layla.” I also loved hearing about how Harrison became friend with the members of Monty Python’s Flying Circus, became their cinematic financial benefactor while also avoiding turbulent board meetings in the process. A moment near the end of the film, during which Ringo discusses the last time he shared a moment with Harrison, including the last words Harrison spoke to him, really choked me up and I dare you to not feel the same as that moment was a testament to their legacy and brothers in musical arms and in life itself.

“George Harrison: Living In The Material World” is an experience unlike most rock music documentaries I have ever seen because of its serene languidness. It is not a rock music documentary although it is set to one of the most majestic soundtracks you could wish to hear.
This film is not designed to be an experience of immediacy or really anything visceral. This is a film to sit with. A film to immerse yourself in. Imagine yourself sliding into your most comfortable position, with your favorite warm drink, copious amounts of time with a treasured friend or friends or family, while being bathed and forever lost in the enveloping art of conversation. That is what Martin Scorsese’s documentary is like and I sincerely hope that the passionate tranquility of this experience washes over you and moves you just as much as it did for me.

“George Harrison: Living In The Material World” is currently airing on HBO with a subsequent DVD release to follow.

SAVAGE CINEMA SUGGESTS:

I cannot recommend highly enough Director David Leland’s wonderful concert film “Concert For George” (2003). Held at the Royal Albert Hall and under the musical direction of Eric Clapton on November 29, 2002, the one-year anniversary of George Harrison’s passing, the film is a bittersweet yet incredibly joyous event. Featuring the talents of Paul McCartney, Ringo Starr, the late Billy Preston, Jeff Lynne, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers and even the members of Monty Python’s Flying Circus, I guarantee you will be singing along to every song while being washed in the eternal spirit of this incredible life.

THE UNPRODUCED WORK OF JOHN HUGHES PART 1: "TICKETS" (1996)

“TICKETS”
WRITTEN BY JOHN HUGHES
DRAFT JULY 26, 1996

I never thought that I would actually see this day.

Dear readers, I am so excited at this time because I have just finished reading a screenplay written by John Hughes. Now, I am certain that you are wondering why a John Hughes screenplay would cause me to be inspired to compose a new posting for your reading pleasure. Well, simply stated, the screenplay in question happens not to be one that provided the basis for any of the films of which we are all so familiar. No. This screenplay happens to be one that was, and still remains, unproduced!!!

Reading an unproduced John Hughes screenplay is akin to hearing unreleased and bootlegged music from one of my favorite artists…say, someone like Prince, who is so prolific and has amassed an amount of music so large that the public will most likely never, ever hear all of it. John Hughes’ status as an extremely prolific writer has been long documented and it seems that he quite possibly wrote a considerable amount of material that would, for practical reasons, never see the light of day. Frankly, I still have no idea of how much Hughes wrote throughout his life but based upon accounts revealed in Writer David Kamp’s outstanding profile on the passing and legacy of John Hughes, published a year ago in Vanity Fair magazine, Hughes was a writer until the day he died...literally. He apparently carried a small Moleskine notebook with him everywhere and reportedly had one on his person when he passed away from a fatal heart attack while taking a leisurely walk on the early morning streets of Manhattan in August 2009.

As discussed in that article’s interviews with Hughes’ two sons, James and John III, the family discovered over 300 Moleskine notebooks along with filled computer discs of material in his offices. Since this period, where some re-evaluation of his work and much deserved appreciation (like his posthumous honor at the 2010 Academy Awards) has been noted, there have been some rumblings about any old screenplays he wrote that may make for strong cinematic entertainment now. At first, it was looking like a comedy entitled “The Grigsbys Go Broke,” would actually be produced but currently, it seems as if those plans have fallen through. Beyond that, here and there on the internet, some scraps of information have been discovered regarding Hughes’ unproduced work. Through some, let’s say…technological means, very recently I obtained a copy of Hughes’ screenplay for a film entitled “Tickets,” the story of a small group of people sitting in line on a brutally frigid Chicago winters night as they wait to obtain free tickets for a band’s farewell concert when the ticket booth opens the following morning.

For the purposes of this written piece for Savage Cinema, I have not given a star rating as it is a screenplay and I feel it to be unfair to really compare this written work at exactly the same level as one of Hughes’ completed films. If John Hughes were to have made “Tickets,” who knows exactly how much would have changed, been added, deleted and modified as he worked with whomever he cast into these roles. Hughes once remarked that a script is essentially a blueprint, but as so many of his actors have made testaments towards over the years, Hughes’ blueprints were uncommonly strong. As for “Tickets,” I read the entire 120-page screenplay rapidly and entirely during the 24 hours after having received it. While all of the John Hughes trademarks were present from his special brand of literate comedy, some Chaplin-esque slapstick, the story’s time span of one evening and the convention of having a small band of characters lumped together and engaged in all manner of conversation, “Tickets” did surprise me by presenting a much darker, tougher, meaner, and considerably sadder affair than his classic films. It was a provocative read and one that truly made me ponder what might have been.

“Tickets” begins shortly after 9 P.M. on a brutally cold night on the Northside of Chicago. Hughes sets the stage in front of what he describes as a “union auditorium built in the twenties, abandoned in the fifties, revived in the eighties as a live music venue.” As the nearby L tracks habitually squeak and squeal, we first meet 30 year old TOM BROOKES, as he sets up his spot on line, complete with an aluminum chaise lounge, cooler and trusty Discman. Tom will soon be joined by the young and diminutive LESLIE HAYES, who arrives with her own chair, toolbox of supplies and is dressed in enormously mountainous clothing for warmth as well as to hide her physique and age.

The shy ASA MARWICK and the more aggressive and athletic OMAR AUGUSTINE, two 17-year-old boys from the wealthy Northern suburb of Winnetka, amble upon the scene complete in fashionably matching ski wear, toiletries, lantern, blankets and a small grill. The older beyond his years Vietnam veteran Hughes describes as a “middle aged, ex-flower child” named MR. 66 (as in the year 1966) is next to arrive and promptly commanders Tom’s chaise lounge, cooler and food, as Tom has momentarily stepped away from his space in line to find some cement blocks to brace his dilapidating chair. Other minor characters, including two unnamed couples, a police officer and the unctuously wealthy Lexus driving MAX CEDRIC and his girlfriend WALLIS CHAMBERS float in and out of the story as well.

Throughout the night, friendships will be formed and broken, prejudices and personal sensibilities will be tested and even one life will be lost as all of these characrets brave and battle the coldness of the weather and even moreso, themselves.

At first, it is easy to make comparisons between “Tickets” and Hughes’ monumental classic “The Breakfast Club” (1985) and during the first third or so of “Tickets,” certain similarities pop out at you. In addition to the story’s conceit and structure, the character of Leslie Hayes, at first, seems to function as a more updated version of Ally Sheedy’s “basket case” character while Mr. 66 functions as the film’s primary antagonist like Judd Nelson’s John Bender. Yet, as the story continues those similarities end as the story plunges into deeper and darker thematic waters and also, Leslie and Mr. 66, respectively take on some surprising, and in the case of Mr. 66, some undeniably tragic turns.

As I previously stated, “Tickets” definitely contained some surprises and what surprised me most was the sense of profound sadness that permeated the piece and still lingers when I think of it now. John Hughes’ films from the 1980’s and 1990’s depicted a world, while truthful, purposefully existed and functioned as modern day fables and wish fulfillment fantasies. It was the world as Hughes saw it but also, it was the world he wished that it could be.

“Tickets,” on the other hand, feels like a film that presents the world a bit more like it really is. Now I am not suggesting that John Hughes wrote something of the equivalent as the most wrenching drama but for what we know of John Hughes’ work, I was staggered to see him reach this far while also remaining familiar. In fact, “Tickets” merges itself very closely with two extremely little known films wich arrived near the very end of Hughes’ film career, the barely released 1998 drama “Reach The Rock” (written and produced by Hughes and directed by William Ryan) and 2001’s “New Port South” (produced by Hughes, written by Hughes’ son James and directed by Kyle Cooper).

“Tickets,” while having many moments of humor, and passages of Hughes’ trademark slapstick and peerless dialogue, is a story about profound endings as it depicts the end of a friendship, the end of a band, then end of a theater and Hughes even goes as far as to end the life of one his story’s primary characters. The story features crippling regrets, enveloping cynicism and brutal failures as well. The name of the band is never mentioned, therefore suggesting that there is much more at stake than a farewell concert. In fact, the screenplay is not even about concert tickets. As Omar states to Asa at the story’s outset, “Tickets are the raison d'etre for a social experience.”

And what a social experience it is as Hughes creates a microcosm of society on this long winter’s night from extremely wealthy to two characters that are homeless. The character of Omar is notable as it features a non-Caucasian character (he’s Persian) in one of the primary roles. Although this draft is dated July 26, 1996, it contains snatches of dialogue and attitudes that are astoundingly up to the minute in regards to issues of class warfare and socio-economic politics. The battle between the 99% and the 1% is waged, sometimes ferociously, through Hughes’ stinging dialogue.

I think it is fitting Hughes set this story in the bitter winter of an equally bitter world as the story deals with the re-gentrification of a neighborhood into something much more homogenized and lacking of characters, color and soul. Beyond that, it is a world where integrity and compassion is in short supply and empty hearted big money trumps humanity itself. More than any other of his released films, Hughes may be suggesting, more overtly, that despite our differences (age, ethnic, economic status), we are all huddled together in a cold, dark world and no matter how desperately we try to ignore our closeness through cynical apathy, we just can’t or else our collective humanity will painfully suffer. This aspect is presented mostly through the character of Tom Brookes, who wants nothing more than to be left in solitude upon his island of a chaise lounge and is often shown frustratingly attempting to sleep as the other characters argue. As he states, after yet another intense encounter with Mr. 66, “I'm a thirty year old who sits on line for free tickets. That's where I begin and where I end. I'm not a member of the Society of Pavement People.” Yet, for some inexplicable reason, Tom reluctantly but continually rises to the aid of others, whether covering for three underage companions from the police, calming a drunken and increasingly belligerent Mr. 66 and even fighting a wealthy blueblood in order to protect his ticket line companions.

But Hughes also suggests a sense of decidedly hard fought hope combined with personal determination and resilience. A lovely passage during a lengthy quiet courtship of sorts from Leslie to Asa contains some of the screenplay’s finest dialogue as the two discuss the feelings that exist at four in the morning as well as the potential trajectories of their respective lives. As the fullness of Leslie’s intensely sad life comes into complete revelation, she offers this admonition to her new friend in regards to her overall Fate, which is, “To a live a long, long time, leave a lot of happy kids, and die clean.”

Now, not everything works in “Tickets.” There is another character simply known as THE BOX. It is a character that resides inside of a refrigerator box, speaks no dialogue and is always unseen, aside from the flap of the box opening and closing. While this is good for a few sight gags and clever reaction shots, I cannot fathom what tis character served to the story as a whole. I could easily see the complete expulsion of this character and it would not change the tone of “Tickets” whatsoever.

The character of Omar is another missed opportunity as he carries such weight for so long and then, Hughes just has him exit the story and there’s essentially not much more to him. Mostly, the success or failure of Mr. 66, and one hallucinatory sequence in particular, would really depend upon who was cast in the role and how strongly the material was interpreted visually. Mr. 66 alters from dangerously comedic to tragic on a dime and it seems that there just needed to be a little something more to make the transitions more fluid and convincing.

But, those flaws aside, “Tickets’ struck me as being a decidedly more honest work than John Hughes was releasing at that time during his career. It could be concluded that Hughes, who wrote this film around the same period as he was toiling away writing and producing entertaining but completely vanilla and to a degree, uninspired remakes of classic Disney movies, desired a return to his creative spirit. Frankly, “Tickets” reads as the kind of film that made so many millions of viewers fall in love with him in the first place.

I often wondered what is career would have been like if “She’s Having A Baby” (1988) was a large box office hit. Would he have made the terrific but albatross of “Home Alone” (1990) at all? Would the trajectory of his career been altered? Would he have remained in Hollywood longer or would he have exited as he did regardless? All questions to which we will absolutely never know the answers but I do have a strong feeling that a film like “Tickets” is where Hughes’ creative heart rested most proudly.

John Hughes once stated that it was the through the making of “The Breakfast Club” where he realized how much he enjoyed working on a film that possessed a serious core and that the experience of making a film like that was something he had been chasing ever since he completed that film. “Tickets” seems to be an honest attempt to try and produce a work that is entertaining and meaningful. “Tickets” is a film I would so proudly pay a ticket to see.

And you know, if I were able, it is a film that I would be proud to bring to life in Hughes’ honor.

SAVAGE CINEMA'S COMING ATTRACTIONS FOR NOVEMBER 2011

We are reaching that time of the year when our cineplexes will be flooded with highly anticipated new films, released at such a rate that it will always be difficult to keep up with them. In many respects for me, that is actually part of the fun! As long as the films I am interested in seeing the most are doing well at the box office, that only affords me more time to actually get to them as life is so very full.

1. I am anticipating that Savage Cinema will be quite busy this month. For instance, I am already composing a review for Martin Scorsese's documentary "George Harrison: Living In The Material World" and this month will see the theatrical release of his brand spankin' new 3D children's epic "Hugo" (of which I will view in 2D).

2. I am also in the process of writing a feature that I hope will as much of a surprise to you as it was for me, especially as it concerns the work of John Hughes. Stay tuned for that one...

3. I am also expecting a much desired cinematic arrival as I really, really, really, at long last hope to see and review for you Cameron Crowe's "Pearl Jam Twenty" and Kevin Smith's "Red State."

4. Clint Eastwood continues his incredible prolific pace with "J. Edgar" and I could not be happier for the return of Director Alexander Payne with "The Descendants," his first film since the masterful "Sideways" seven years ago.

5. On the independent film front, I am keeping my eagle eyes out for two highly acclaimed psychological thrillers, "Take Shelter" and "Martha Marcy Mae Marlene."

6. And yes...there is just something touching about seeing trailers for "The Muppets." Who knows? I just may have to get myself to that one as well.

It's a lot to plan for certainly but I truly hope to be able to fully deliver.

I'll see you when the house lights go down...