The ads for this movie tell you all you need to know about it: it’s a major attack on New York City shot entirely from the point of view of one consumer digital video camera. I would never spoil the surprises that await you, wanting instead to urge you to go see it. However, if you had equilibrium issues watching The Blair Witch Project, be forewarned: several in our party were still feeling it the next day. If you can take it or are willing to endure the effects, it’s so worth it.

Cloverfield is a monster movie. It’s an old-school, Godzilla/King Kong type megafauna attack on an innocent metropolis filled with panicking citizenry. By dint of being shot on the home video camera, it’s extremely modern. Nothing feels choreographed or contrived – every shot of disaster is found footage or dumb luck, every glimpse of the threat is fleeting and often unsatisfying. This is, simply put, awesome. To make things better, the movie is intensely character-driven. We get to know our key characters well before the first ripple of fear ever crosses our threshold, but the brief 84 minute film never drags. We even get to know our cameraman, Hud (T.J. Miller, rescued from Carpoolers). The edits echo every home movie you have ever made, with blips from what you taped over, lack of concern for closure of dialogue or catching the beginnings of conversations. It made me downright nostalgic. The only music in the film is at the party and in the superbly histrionic closing credits score.

Think of a couple of movies in the last 30-odd years that scared you effectively. Blair Witch: the terror of the unknown, being totally lost and stranded, your visual range limited by the viewfinder. Alien/Aliens: a foe about whom we have very little information beyond its deadliness and the fact that we’re not much of an obstacle, plus our home turf being turned into their turf. Any decent adaptation of War of the Worlds and great zombie movies: the implacability of the enemy added to the blinding fever for escape. Every great scary movie: the primal effectiveness of being alone – or not – in the darkness. Cloverfield doesn’t feel derivative of these movies, it only reminds you of how sometimes the simplest things work best.

We have the human drama of Rob, Beth, Hud, Marlena (from Mean Girls; you’re welcome), Lily, and Jason carrying us through the all-encompassing chaos and destruction so we have a real, workable purpose beyond just survival, beyond just placing the camera to get a little more scary in there. What we see of the monster is secondary to all the more personal, up-close terrors our little band of erstwhile partiers encounter in their flight. Cloverfield achieves the perfect balance of hidden and revealed information which just serves to make it all scarier and more fun.

It’s the kind of movie that you want to see more of, but you would regret the making of a sequel, because it would ruin the perfect magic of the terror of the unknown. It has happened in the past (Aliens, 28 Weeks Later, um…) but not often enough to risk tarnishing this achievement. Go see it!

MPAA Rating PG-13
Release date 1/18/08
Time in minutes 84
Director Matt Reeves
Studio Paramount

Director Adam Rifkin takes an interesting idea – that of the preponderance of surveillance cameras in all our lives, and runs with it. Look is a narrative film, our characters meeting and developing gradually via footage from mall stores, ATMs, cop cars, convenience stores, parking lots, lobby cameras, etc. It would be tempting to pull a Crash and have all of these stories twine together and resolve magically. I’ll tell you right now, they do not; the dissatisfaction itself is a little satisfying. The purpose of these cameras, ostensibly, is to prevent some or most of the things that occur on screen in Look, or to enable justice to be served afterward at least. Clearly, they are only as good a deterrent as their awareness of them allows.

What Look reveals is that we all have the capacity to be criminals, losers, liars, misanthropes, fools, and heroes (if we let ourselves). It also shows that despite the four million hours of footage shot by 30 million cameras in the U.S., humanity (good and bad) can stay ahead of passive surveillance. The camera is passive here, which makes for some interesting scenework. We are called upon to make our own decisions (they aren’t hard) about what’s happening but the movie never forces anything down our throats.

It’s not a slice of life movie, it’s more like a buffet. Tension mounts as we follow a suspicious character through the mall. Scary moments leap into frame or defuse quickly, or leave us dangling. Nanny cams focus on innocents under suspicions while other cameras witness the crimes being missed.

The film starts out with so many characters and locations (with some flow among them) that it feels aimless for a long time. There is so much ugliness (and humor) being captured that it’s hard not for it to feel contrived. But then, as you watch though this one camera, unable to do anything but witness, the emotional impact of all that buildup comes through. It’s not nihilistic, but it’s definitely not about people being caught on tape holding hands.

Editor Martin Apelbaum wisely fast-forwards through non-essential content, adding to the impression of this footage as found material rather than staged drama. Director of Photography Ron Forsythe does a very good job keeping to the rules of this conceit – limited camera coverage, minimal close-ups possible, high angles, etc. The actors have to behave in a naturalistic fashion but they also have to get across – to an off-kilter, unseen viewer – all that is happening in their scene. In one key scene, we see the reflection of the camera lens in glas, gazing impassively on its subjects, who are in an emotional crisis. The smooth reflection of the lens, coldly recording, not judging or caring or being actively involved (or even manned) struck a chord in me. It’s a challenging project all around. It’s a very interesting experiment, one which I found entertaining, nervewracking, and rewarding.

If Crash had been this interesting it might have deserved that Oscar; this movie lacks polish but that is precisely what makes it work. Check it out if you can.

MPAA Rating R-Strong sexual content, pervasive language, violence, drug use
Release date 12/14/07
Time in minutes 98
Director Adam Rifkin
Studio Liberated Artists

Dewey Cox is a man whose life started hard, but the music carried him through. Walk Hard, if you couldn’t tell by the preview, is a parody of music biopics. These films, especially of late, have had a certain strange formula (despite the disparity of their subjects) that was indeed ripe for gentle mockery. Honestly, how strangely similar were Walk The Line and Ray? But Walk Hard is not making a mockery of the music or the musicians. It only playfully takes the teases the filmmakers and the conventions that have developed in telling these tortured artists’ stories. These biopic directors are trying to make a myth out of a man; instead they reduce him to a formulaic punchline.

Had the great Christopher Guest made this movie, it would have been a grimly funny character study, accurate in tone, but likely not as silly and hilarious as this one. Director Jake Kasdan (The Zero Effect, The TV Set) wrote the script with reigning überkind Judd Apatow, with every wink and telegraphed plot point in place. The result is not what could have been a self-satisfied mug fest “aren’t we clever” – instead it is a fun, “hey guys, let’s put on a show” romp starring seemingly everyone in the current comedy universe, from Craig Robinson to Harold Ramis and just about everyone inbetween. It’s only Matinee price because it is occasionally a little sketch comedy “see where this is going, tee hee” but it’s a fun ride. You’ll have to see it twice just to process the cameos.

Walk Hard makes fun of the formula, makes fun of the self-importance of these biopics, makes fun of the black and white portrayals of the supporting characters, and even the cultural naivete of the eras Cox lives through. One thing it does not do, however, is make fun of the actual music. The songs in Walk Hard are great. When it’s right, they can be funny (Mama You Gots To Love Your Negro Man, Let’s Duet) but they are always musically sound work you’d want to listen to again and again. John C. Reilly (playing Cox from age 14 onward) sings with the natural enthusiasm of a man born to this life – he becomes Cox. As the women in his life, Kristen Wiig and Jenna Fischer fulfill their archetypes with “I’m not just The Girl” gusto. (Groovy acoustic solo artist Angela Correa sings smokily for Jenna.)

Reilly is always dead serious, even when loudly braying a cornball joke – he doesn’t wink. The movie does, all around him. It’s a loving tribute to the biopic genre as much as a treatise on the absurdity of portraying an artist’s lifetime of influences in a neat, linear package, godly as well. What you will walk out of Walk Hard with though is a hankering for more Dewey Cox songs. Be sure to stay through the credits for a little bonus.

MPAA Rating R-sexual content, drug use, language, nudity
Release date 12/21/07
Time in minutes 96
Director Jake Kasdan
Studio Columbia Pictures

Did you love Best in Show or Waiting for Guffman? If so, then go see A Mighty Wind, there is nothing I need further to tell you. Directed by Christopher Guest and written by Guest and Eugene Levy (as much as a wholly improvised movie is written), Wind is again a character-driven comedy piece/mockmentary that makes you think and feel more than laugh, but it satisfies. This time, the embarrassingly talented cast of the usual Guest crowd are playing grown up 60′s folksingers (or a new band of overjazzed fans of same) who are being brought together to honor the recently departed Irving Steinbloom. Steinbloom, a fictional folk music pioneer, is survived by three bickering children, one of whom (Bob Balaban) is organizing the event, and everyone else in the film is in a band.

I have to say something about the three siblings. They have a scene on a couch together which was simply one of the best pieces of improv I have seen in a while. I believed they were siblings, with history, they were funny and played off each other so effortlessly, and drove the plot along with so much natural but condensed information, I have to applaud them: Balaban, Stuart Luce and Deborah Theaker.

Best of all is the sheer rapture of getting to see Guest, Michael McKean, and Harry Shearer (you know, Spinal Tap) together on screen again, playing together verbally and musically. Just to bask in the glory of this trio really is worth the price of admission for me. Guest pulls out his folksinger character from his National Lampoon days and they all of course have new music written for the occasion (again also with CJ Vanston).

The other two groups are creepy Disneyfied The New Main Street Singers, and ex true-love poster children Mitch & Mickey. The album art is a hoot. Everyone is simply perfect in their roles, though Levy’s Mitch is possibly the least excusably cartoonish when next to the sublimely sincere Mickey (Catherine O’Hara). We’ve got lots of songs, in very diverse styles between the three groups, which also makes for its own, subtler comedy, and plenty of warm smiley moments as well. By the end, you feel the history of these people as acutely as if it were a true story. Well done, all. It’s the strongest “script” since Spinal Tap, in terms of arc and content.

While A Mighty Wind has fewer out and out jokes or laughs than Best in Show or Guffman, it has equally well drawn characters and a vastly more effective and satisfying story arc. This makes a huge different not to have all that improv talent spun out into nothing. I’m not saying it’s not funny, but it’s more comedy of relations rather than set up and yuk yuk yuk. That dubious honor goes to a totally wacked out Fred Willard, who, as always, is loveable as pie.

A Mighty Wind is simply sweet and believable, completely engaging, and well worth seeing.

MPAA Rating PG-13
Release date 4/16/03 ltd
Time in minutes 87
Director Christopher Guest
Studio Warner Brothers

Now, before I get started, I want to point out to those who are thinking, “Isn’t she a little biased to be writing this review?” that, yes, I am. I had the privilege of 2 weeks on the set of this film, which is why I waited until I saw it again last night before I wrote a review. Knowing stuff they cut out, I was disappointed and frustrated with the released version, but on a more objective viewing, I feel I can safely say that this movie will appeal to people who
find humor in the following venues:

Small towns
Community Theatre
Bad Theatre
Mock Documentaries
Improvisation
Musicals
Dry, deadpan humor

If this stuff is not your cup of tea, the 82 minutes selected for your viewing pleasure (from 60+ hours of footage!) will probably just float on by. If you are like me, however, you will find it very funny – there are understanding smiles kind of humor, and laugh out loud kind of humor.

It’s a mock documentary, in the tradition of Spinal Tap and Smile, of a small town, Blaine, in Missouri putting on a musical for it’s 150th birthday. Christopher Guest stars and directs, and with Eugene Levy (of SCTV fame) wrote the outline around which the actors improvised all their lines (except those in the actual musical). Levy is in it as well, as a not-funny dentist-cum-actor, as are Parker Posey (an indie film favorite), Fred Willard (Spinal Tap, anything Martin Mull has ever done), Catherine O’Hara (Beetlejuice, SCTV, The Home Alone movies), and many more faces you will recognize from film and TV. You can see me, too!

Anyway -Corky St. Clair (Chris Guest) hopes to attract the eye of a Broadway producer, and they mount this ridiculous show, which chronicles high points in Blaine’s history. Blaine has been visited by a UFO, been the Footstool manufacturing captial of the world, among home to some great characters, improvised by everyone. The songs in the show were written by Christopher Guest, Michael McKean, and Harry Shearer of Spinal Tap fame. It’s gently amusing and not at all mean spirited. I myself recommend it highly! It’s had great reviews too and a great web page – http://www.guffman.com. I can’t quite say full price feature because it’s not quite the pure genius of Spinal Tap or Living in Oblivion.
But there is the bonus of looking for me! :) I counted last night – I am in four scenes but there are 7 shots. One is a stretch but the first person who can name all seven shots will win….something!*

*prize may vary due to geographical location of the winner
Note: as of August 2010 this prize has yet to be collected.

MPAA Rating R – language
Release date 1/31/97
Time in minutes 84
Director Christopher Guest
Studio Columbia Pictures

(with the short, “Signing Off”) www.firstrunfeatures.com
The short, Signing Off, was a wonderful New Zealander farce about a DJ going to extraordinary lengths to honor a request. It’s definitely not realistic but it is really clever and funny. And even poignant – the NZers, like their British cousins, have managed to hold on to the art of keeping characters sympathetic while making them funny, a skill all but lost to Hollywood.

Anyway, Colin McKenzie directs and I swear I will see everything else he does based on this short. Bruce Lynch’s music was very exciting as well. It’s nutty and funny – a DJ’s last show after over 20 yrs, and his one remaining listener makes a request – he will do anything to honor it – including dive into a rat infested sewer and…well, it’s great chucks, mate.

Forgotten Silver is a mockumentary shot entirely in the realm of artifice (not conceding to reality as Spinal Tap and Waiting for Guffman and When God Spoke do) and in the style of A&E’s Biography. It’s absolutely true to the bowing and scraping homages we Americans produce – but it too is New Zealander. One of the co-directors/writers is the venerable Peter Jackson, better known for Meet the Deedles, Heavenly Creatures, and Dead Alive. The other is Costa Botes.

I took shamefully few notes but Forgotten Silver details the prodigious life of a “lost” filmmaker and his incredible advances that were lost to history…until now. Production Designer John Girdlestone had a daunting task to create “historical” equipment and stagings for the archive photographs of the film genius XXX. This supergenius filmmaker, posthumously inducted into the pantheon of cinema greats such as D.W. Griffith, Orson Welles, and more, created the first talking picture in 1908, the first color film in 1911, but madness and poverty and the usual tolls drove him into obscurity.

I think my companions and I were the only ones who either knew enough about basic film history to get the anachronisms, or the only ones who knew it was a joke. Without a hint of irony the credits thank the widow of XXX and make no attempt to destroy the illusion. Lost cities built by hand over a decade for an epic film slashed into pieces by Miramax? Indeed. My companions and I were laughing uproariously, for the first half. The second half slowed down some but was still very interesting and beautifully executed.

It will surely be as elusive to find in the video stores as any of the late genius’ work, but if you can see it, do see it.

*Note: There is a DVD of Forgotten Silver available via Amazon.com. Check Hollywood Video.