My Money To Take

Wes Craven’s Newest Slash into the Horror Vein is a Snooze Fest
By Morgan P Salvo




Besides the non existent reason for My Soul to Take to be in 3-D, you have to wonder, what happened to Wes Craven? His newest jaunt into the slasher/horror/teen victim genre is a major low point for this once distinguished auteur of all things gory and smart.
Soul begins with a cool bloody intro, a lot like Craven’s underrated Shocker, with twinges of Elm Street and Scream, infusing both intellectual insight and humor. Alas, it then turns all formula. The useless 3-D has no bloody knives flying at you, just a bunch of people talking about stuff. This by the numbers slasher is about as exciting as watching paint dry.
The formula is way too familiar: after the initial slaughter scene we segue 16 years later when a bunch of stereotypical teenagers expound a bunch of campfire myth mumbo-jumbo about the Riverton Ripper and how seven of them go by the moniker of Riverton Seven because they all share the same birthday with the day the killer supposedly died, with one of them possibly harboring his murderous soul. Their number soon dwindles as some suffer gruesome deaths at the hands of a seemingly masked, dreadlocked, homeless man.
Soul represents the first writing-directing effort from Craven since his stylish "Wes Craven's New Nightmare" in 1994. Here he disappoints almost immediately and never gains any kind of momentum. Did I mention there’s WAY too much dialogue? There are references to voodoo legends about multiple souls as opposed to multiple personalities, and nonsensical stories of condors and clarions that serve no purpose. Then there’s the unexplained weirdness of “Bug” (Max Thieriot), the main suspect for the murders and his bizarre imitations of other people. Sure he acts weird enough, but his mental health history is only hinted at yet never explained. And don’t get too bent out of shape at the twist ending: it’s about as twisty as a straight edge razor.
I have a theory about directors like Craven from the 70’s who made really good horror movies—that was their shot and it’s over. They either did too many drugs or not enough, but the residual burnout seems to have affected all the greats of the genre. Any attempt at bringing back the genius and originality of their premiere vision just doesn’t cut the blood-tinged mustard. Craven's trademark satirical humor is sorely missed here as the psychosis, horror, mythology and teen victims all come off boring. The best line of this movie was “it’s not okay to be killing all the time.” In My Soul to Take’s case maybe it’s not okay to be filming all the time.

My Soul to Take
Starring Max Thieriot, John Magaro, Denzel Whitaker, Zena Grey, Emily Meade
Written/Directed by Wes Craven
Rated R
1 star

Vampires Still Need Permission

Baffling Remake Stays Reverent to the Original

 By Morgan P Salvo

What The Fuck!!? Let Me In is a remake of Let the Right One In, a movie barely two years old. This new version is scripted and helmed by Matt Reeves who was responsible for shakiest camera award with the unforgettable Cloverfield.
In Let Me In we have a barely re-written version with a lot of the same scenes and the dialogue. Swapping Sweden to a snowy New Mexico is a stretch. Having it take place in 1983 is semi-genius because we get to listen to a bunch of 1983 classic rock songs by David Bowie, Blue Oyster Cult, Greg Khin, etc. The story remains the same as a pre-pubescent blood sucker girl befriends geeky lonely boy picked on by bullies, and throughout some gruesome murders a love story blossoms. Once again the title refers to letting the right one in through the door— but also into the heart, as deadly as that may be.
Kudos must go to casting. Richard Jenkins plays the creepy “Dad”, Elias Koteas as the detective, Kodi Smit-McPhee (The Road) as the boy Owen and Chloe Moretz (Kick-ass) as the girl vampire Abby.
Saving what was cool about the original is its cold and detached look at adolescent loneliness and pain, making it the polar opposite to Twilight’s jean-busting, teen-throb, male-model blood suckers.

Missing from the original (in addition to the cool original cool 80’s euro-rock) was the alienation and isolation the entire town felt. Director Tomas Alfredson achieved this brilliantly by drawing out more characters, especially the seedy bar patrons/potential victims. Instead Reeves has Owen watching people/potential victims with a telescope giving it a Rear Window voyeuristic feel. A bad idea has Owen playing with his knife in the mirror, acting like a serial killer-rapist. The original had the character fantasizing about being able to intimidate and kill his bully attackers. Failing to astonish, the vampire attack scenes and climbing of trees or buildings look like King Kong type animation.
Watching this version messed with my head because I was so familiar with the original and its euro-creepiness. I couldn’t tell if this American version sucked or maybe it’s so rigorously reverential to its source material that it’s a highly accomplished work standing on its own. Still it baffles me why anyone would tamper with greatness. Sure the Swedish film, which ranks as one of the strangest horror entries of the last decade, deserves to find a wider base in the U.S., but why mess with solid originality? Let Me In’s only saving grace is if people see this movie first they might be intrigued to see the masterpiece.

Let Me In
Starring Kodi Smit-McPhee, Chloe Moretz, Richard Jenkins, Elias Koteas
Written/ Directed by Matt Reeves
Rated R
2 ½ stars

Bursting Bubbles

 Oliver Stone’s sequel leaves hope for human nature but none for the economy
By
Morgan P Salvo

Leave it to Oliver Stone to churn out a sequel for Wall Street after 23 years, and an eccentric sometimes compelling flick no less. This time it’s good versus evil under the umbrella of the financial crisis and mortgage debacle. You’d think the politically savvy Stone would be all over this in a JFK conspiracy way, but instead he uses the fall of the American empire to serve as a backdrop for an old-fashioned love story. Stone is far from the psychedelic onslaught of Natural Born Killers and the weird take detached look at George W. Bush in W. But as always, every shot counts. Stone’s best movies are preoccupied with the primal matters of power, honor, loyalty, and disgrace.
Wall Street 2 begins with a quick voice over analogy of bubbles bursting, likened to the origin of the human race. A quick photo montage catches us up to the modern day financial crisis. Returning as greed incarnate Gordon Gekko (Michael Douglas) is released from prison, in a scene that is both hilarious and sad.
Now ask yourself if this sounds like Oliver Stone territory or not: Gekko is estranged from his daughter, left-leaning blogger Winnie (Carey Mulligan), who wants nothing to do with him. Her fiancé is a Manhattan go-getter Jake Moore (Shia LaBeouf), a trader for Keller Zabel Investments, although his real passion is alternative energy. Tragedy strikes for Jake’s mentor Lou Zabel (Frank Langella) and Zabel's firm collapses. Arrogant Wall Street entrepreneur/manipulator, Bretton James (Josh Brolin) buys the firm for virtually nothing and recruits the promising, Jake who wants revenge. Jake then tries to assist some reconciliation between Winnie and her dad but actually ends up covertly teaming up with Gekko, who has written a best selling expose of Wall Street. Gekko manipulates all those around him, lying in wait and phony humbleness ready to strike.
Once again we see the glare of Capitalism and the energy drink guzzling, gambling-addict, trader-junkies playing with our money. But after that, Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps is mainly a slow moving melodrama. This flick depends on a smart premise, spelling out the bailouts, fallouts and money schemes that tanked our economy, but still relies on old fashioned movie making to tell a compelling intricate tale, then screws it all up with the cheesiest last five minutes and a feel-good phony-ass Hollywood ending.
Still Stone usually wrings the best performances out of his actors. Mirroring real life, the fact that Douglas has throat cancer and could be battling for his life adds a peculiar sensitivity to the subject matter. The lure of Douglas’ Gekko has its moments of pathos that lends us to believe that this time around he has real heartfelt emotions still we wonder is he on a quest for redemption…or is he maneuvering his way into the next big scam? Douglas’s command of his character and his scenes are the best to watch. Ninety-three year old Eli Wallach looks like a crazed and whistling Chinese wizard. Brolin seamlessly plays the sneering vindictive evil inside trader, screwing over everyone in his path with no remorse. Langella excels as the old-school businessman standing his ground at the precipice of disaster. There’s something inherently wrong with Charlie Sheen in his nervous unconvincing cameo. LaBeouf works in this role but has a “watch me---I’m acting” feel to the performance. Mulligan smiles when she’s happy, tears up when sad and does a good American accent, but the paring with LaBeouf is absolutely unbelievable from the get go.
Wall Street 2 has a spunky, laid back soundtrack by David Bynre and Brian Eno and also resurrects the original’s use of Talking Heads’ song “This Must be the Place (Naïve Melody)” for the ending credits.
The Schwarz Churchill firm’s bailout trials and tribulations are thinly veiled as Goldman Sachs’ housing market rip-off. But of course, Stone’s theme is not just money as the root of all evil. That would be too abstract, cold and impersonal for Oliver’s high end romantic, Hollywood-meets-Shakespeare know-how.
It looked like this movie was going to leave us with a feeling of futility and a warped financial philosophy based in truth. What I thought was the final scene and a powerful finale switched gears and took the cornball express to Hollywood happy ending-land. Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps should go back to bed.Feels like Stone cashed in his own chips and furnished his own bailout. Sound familiar?

Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps
Starring Michael Douglas, Shia LeBouf, Carrie Mulligan, Josh Brolin
Directed by Oliver Stone
Rated R
2 stars

Crime Pays… well sort of ...

Ben Affleck tackles the tough streets of Boston
by
Morgan P Salvo



The Town is one of those movies that you watch the entire time just wishing it was better. It’s not bad and some parts are pretty good, but there is either something amiss or else too much stuff crammed into each prolonged scene. The flick comes off as a decent TV show with swearing.
A den of thieves are committing bank robberies set in Charlestown, Massachusetts, a one square mile neighborhood in Boston that is reportedly responsible for more bank and armored car robberies than anywhere else in America. Making up the foursome of criminals are Doug (Ben Affleck) the brains behind the muscle, Jem (Jeremy Renner), the psychotic loose cannon, the driver Gloansy (Slaine), and Desmond (Owen Burke) the electrician. All adept and professional, they have been getting away with this kind of stuff for a long time. Things go wrong when Jem takes bank manager Claire (Rebecca Hall) hostage. In order to make sure she didn't see anything, Doug finds a way to ingratiate himself into her life post-robbery, leading to a strong attraction and romance. The FBI are there to complicate matters, led by determined agents Frawley (Mad Men’s Jon Hamm) and Ciampa (Titus Welliver seen in Lost/Deadwood /Gone Baby Gone).

The Town starts in instant robbery mode and follows formula with another in the middle and a Fenway Park finale shoot out at the end. The robbers use ingenious and scary masks, from heavy metal skulls with dreads to Nixon-faced nuns. I admit stuff does look cool here. Boston is shown in a different light, focusing on the claustrophobic streets of Charlestown and a very believable bumper car-type chase scene through alleys. But let’s not get fooled: this is a love story amidst the dudes emoting tough talk, car chases and the bullets flying. When we get the gist of where this flick is going it becomes unrequited love 101 and way too much storytelling for back history that’s supposed to invoke sympathy for the characters.
Slow paced and drawn out, this movie suffered from its own seriousness, needing more momentum, which might have been achieved by showing us less. Somewhat stale and redundant, everyone in The Town has a “tell all” monologue that just seems old hat and forced. Filmmakers who shine always know that their audiences are smart and treat them that way. I found myself checking out the inconsistencies of Affleck’s five o’ clock shadow turning to 10 o’ clock shadow from scene to scene.
To his credit, Affleck proved highly honed directional skills with Gone Baby Gone but kept himself out of in front of the camera. Ben has been in some lame movies, giving us some supremely bad performances. But rest assured this is not the acting ilk of Gigli or Daredevil but the return to Good Will Hunting territory. Affleck actually does a slow burn and explosions of rage with ease and force. Affleck’s Boston’s roots and his master of the Boston dialect dial him right in with this movie. Chris Cooper as Doug’s incarcerated Dad mesmerizes in his three minute scene. Renner delivers unbridled acting chops here. Hot on the heels of The Hurt Locker, every scene he has brings the tension up a notch. Renner has been giving us complex renderings of characters ever since his intricate portrayal of a serial killer in the vastly overlooked movie Dahmer. And here the mercurial actor doesn’t disappoint. Character actor Welliver is always dependable with his “don’t-mess-with-me” demeanor and Hamm is good but merely sufficient. Pete Postlethwaite flops down a bit part as a florist/gangster while Hall does fine in the lead female role with what little she’s given script–wise.
Under the guise of gritty and claustrophobic, Affleck fine tunes his directorial chops. It’s hard not to draw comparisons to Clint Eastwood here. Starring, directing and being in virtually every scene has its plusses and minuses. As the driving force behind a heist movie with real people’s problems, Affleck takes a page from Eastwood’s book coming through with the arc of a three act movie, drawn out emotions and dialogue, but delivering where it counts. The Town is a little schmaltzy, too formulaic and things get sewn up a little too easily. Ben’s no Clint, but he’s working on it.

The Town
Starring Ben Affleck, Jeremy Renner, Rebecca Hall, Jon Hamm
Directed By Ben Affleck












Rated R
2 ½ stars

After Burn

3-D action punches through staggering dullness
by
Morgan P Salvo

Be Warned: Resident Evil: Afterlife really isn’t a movie it’s a great big huge video game that you can only watch.Shot in Real-D, not the horrible post-shooting conversion process 3-D, these state-of-the-art effects are the Avatar-in-yer-face kind and are a welcome dose of visual improvement to the fourth installment of this franchise.
Milla Jovovich returns as Alice, the genetically altered superwoman, to do battle in the T-Virus apocalypse land, waging war on the Umbrella Corp. Alice goes to Alaska to find an elusive zombie-free paradise known as Arcadia, and then to a prison-turned-fortress where she plots to escape to safety.

Writer of all three and now director of two Resident Evils, Paul W.S. Anderson (AVP/ Death Race) returns to the feel of his original with a blaring soundtrack, over the top special effects and high-end overblown Matrix-style stunts. The high tech action just keeps getting better, successfully outdoing its predecessors.

Though technology has come a long way, the same can’t be said for inventive storylines or acting. Jovovich is on cruise control here failing to bring any kind of new life to her character. At one point she resembles Amelia Earhart with guns. The promising supporting cast is even worse, muttering extremely juvenile by-the-numbers dialogue.The grinding industrial rock score provided by “tomandandy” forces techno beats and crunching guitars into every action scene.
3-D Highlights included the bullets whizzing through zombies’ splattering heads into your lap and the monstrous hooded-executioner-butcher-dude chucking a combo anvil/axe at your face. In addition there are mutant zombie split-dogs, zombies with regurgitating mouth talons and exquisite head loppings. There’s also burrowing zombies; a first. !! There’s an ingenious nod to Peckinpah’s Pat Garret Billy the Kid where Alice shoots zombies with a shot gun loaded with quarters (bigger barrels I suppose)
Unnecessary was the over use of freeze-frame, stop action and the transition from slow to kinetic super fast motion amidst all the hyper reality. Ludicrous was that, in an entire city of zombies to shoot the brains out of, we’re stuck with mindless adventure saga jibber jabber. But most annoying was the evil villain: a sun glasses-wearing evil clone of Guy Pierce and Val Kilmer.
But amongst all the head-banging entertainment, right when Resident Evil Afterlife starts to get good and some major shit is about to hit the fan, it blacks out to credits, making way for the next installment. They just don’t make whole movies anymore. It’s all about the sequel. Even though this Resident Evil tries real hard to valiantly rise above its dullness, the 3-D action only serves to make it humorously watchable but then pulls the rug out, leaving you with a 3-D hangover and a bad taste in your mouth.

Resident Evil: Afterlife
Starring Milla Jovovich, Ali Lauter, Kim Coates, Boris Kodjoe
Rated R
2 stars

Hackin’ and Hewin’

Machete’s riotous good fun doesn’t skimp on the exploitation
 By Morgan P Salvo

Machete’s origin stems from a pseudo movie trailer (and one of the highlights) in the B-movie homage Grindhouse, Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantinos’ double bill. Machete is a fine gory, pulpy action thriller about a hitman/ex-cop professional slasher seeking revenge on very bad people. Not only do things start off with an immediate bang and an El Mariachi feel, within the first five minutes Machete delivers ample badass dudes with big knives, guns, sluts and gore…this is my kind of flick.This revenge film’s roots go back to Rodriguez’s first casting of Danny Trejo, a knife chucking dude in the 1995 film Desperado. Trejo as Machete carries the film in a Charles Bronson/Charles Bukowski kind of swagger. If you IMDB Trejo you’ll see a scary-looking ex-con from San Quentin and veteran actor with over 200 movies under his belt. Trejo’s badass-ness is funny yet the movie, co-directed by Robert Rodriguez and Ethan Maniquis (longtime Rodriguez editor), never treats him like a joke. Machete trudges through all the violence gore, corruption that’s ladled on him in heaping doses. Trejo has about 10 lines but does a bang up job just being ultra cool, extra tough and super hip.

Machete manages to weave in and out of all plot loopholes and stick to the corrupt avenging saga incorporating a melting pot of immigration, political corrupt power, revolution, unbalanced media, blackmail, propaganda and just plain heroic adventure with bad one-liners. Rodriguez & Co rip through Mexican culture with pride sufficiently supporting the violence by its humorous and creative edge. Yes, guys with big weapons and chicks in hot outfits and high heels are gratuitous and over-the-top, but the film’s self-awareness has respect for its 70’s exploitation. Every single one of Machete’s sexual dalliances is enhanced by 70’s porn-sexploitation-disco-wah-wah music. Lines like, “We didn’t cross the border; the border crossed us” and “Machete don’t text” are destined to be quoted classics. The religious imagery is hilarious throughout and of special note is a scene with the best use of a splattering intestine in a movie ever.

The cavalcade of stars propels this flick. There are no real cameos: everyone has abundant screen time to establish their characters. Steven Segal’s Torrez is totally evil, Jeff Fahey’s Booth a two faced bungling political slime, and Cheech Marin’s Padre, a cursing gun-wielding priest. The redneck vermin include Robert De Niro’s Senator McLaughlin, a combination of George W. Bush and Dukes of Hazzard’s Sherriff Roscoe, and Don Johnson’s Sherriff Stillman, a deeply prejudiced cowboy with grey Elvis sideburns. Michelle Rodriguez’s Shé, a smokin’ hot revolutionary legend disguised as a taco vendor. Jessica Alba’s Sartana an INS agent with all the outfits from Modesty Blassie, and last but not least Lindsey Lohan as April, a damsel in distress who finds salvation in a nun’s habit.
Everyone’s having fun here.

Seagal shows up with samurai sword and Nehru jacket fatter and with more hair than he had in the 90’s. Art imitates life when Lohan is discovered in a meth lab while wallowing in her own puke. The shameless age-defying pairing of Alba and Trejo is a huge joke but watching him make out shirtless with an equally topless Lohan and her mother (Alicia Rachel Merek) in a swimming pool is downright laugh out loud funny (and wrong).
Alba is too cutesy for her role and blows it continuing to tease with naked scenes exposing only her side breast.
Tito and Tarantula came up with a great soundtrack. But Machete’s lackluster ending was all buildup and fizzled out like the time to finish it had expired. The climactic face-off between gardeners, dishwashers and day laborers and their squadron of colorful tricked out chopped low-riding Mexican machines devolved too quickly. The Gatling gun mounted on a motorcycle handlebars explosion was merely lifted from the original trailer. The ending comes off like a disjointed three ring circus, piling up one idea after another, barely sewing it all together cohesively instead of one grandiose culmination. It seems to only touch the surface of everything Machete had been leading up to. This is strange considering Rodriguez’s comic book forte. Maybe that’s the curse of dual directing.
Knowing full well that we’ve “Pissed off the wrong Mexican” the ending credits tell us to watch for Machete Kills, the next installment, and hopefully they aren’t just teasing.
Machete
Starring Danny Trejo, Michelle Rodriguez, Jeff Fahey, Jessica Alba, Steven Seagal, Don Johnson, Robert De Niro
Directed by Robert Rodriguez, Ethan Maniquis