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The Simpsons
For more than half my
life, “The Simpsons” have been there for me. They have given me with tutelage beyond any college professor ever
could, provided me role models, taught me work and parenting skills, and have given me an endless conversational zingers that
I would pass off as my own wit to unknowing listeners.
Institutionally, they have surpassed being a trend and have become embedded in
our pop culture – not only reflecting it, but at a time, dictating it.
A Google search alone will yeild 60 million page references to America's favorite
yellow, four-fingered family (Youtube 93, 500, for those keeping track).
The omnipotent clan can be viewed almost round-the-clock on television (an observation
deftly decried by patriarch Homer in the film's intro). Books have delved into the show's philosophy, religious themes, life
lessons and copious analyses on each and every episode.
The lines from the show have reached immortality (Homer's disgruntled grunt “D'oh
has made it into both the Oxford English Dictionary and Webster's Millennium Dictionary).
So seriously, what's left that has not been accomplished by the family but the
big screen.
The creators had been oh-so-coy about the release of a film, and announced it by
surprise last summer. Credit has to be given to them for not selling out and releasing the film at the height of the show's
zeitgeist in the early 90s, as they could have easily cashed in on their name, much like character Krusty the Clown does with
much of the life-threatening kids toys he haphazardly slaps his name upon for a quick paycheck.
The finest compliment I can bestow upon the film is that it feels just like a 90-minute
episode written during their sixth or seventh season (which many feel were its best). With an almost two-decade buildup, there
is hardly an expectation that the film would be capable of exceeding short of having Marge letting her Frank Lloyd Wright-designed
hair down and do a lap dance for you in your movie seat (sorry, perhaps I have been too obsessive a fan over the years).
I will not bother going over the characters in the review, for if you are not at
the least bit familiar with them as of yet, the only thing I can say to you is: “Welcome to Earth. Sorry for the current
state of affairs in the White House. Hope you enjoy your stay before heading back to your planet.”
The film's story unfolds in classic Simpsonian fashion – which is to say,
from the most tangential places. Let's just say the family has added a pig to the clan and when it is time for Homer to rid
of the porcine feculence, he dumps it into Springfield Lake, which many show watchers may remember is also home to that mutated
Darwinian oddity Blinky, the three-eyed fish – a result of the mass waste dumping that takes place within.
This causes the EPA's Nazi-like head Cargill (voiced by the ever-dependable Albert
Brooks) to place a glass dome over the entire town, cordoning it off from the country like some giant terrarium. Meanwhile,
Homer's careless actions once again places him at odds with his entire family – wife Marge, children Bart, Lisa and
baby Maggie. The beauty of the film, as with the television show, is that regardless of just how outrageous the predicament
encountered by the sleepy little Hamlet of Springfield faces, the core of family is the overriding theme.
Instead of ruining the gags (of which there are more than enough to fill a dozen
summer “comedies”), I'll try to focus on just why audiences will get much d'oh! for their dough.
Some of the sweeping shots of the town are rendered using 3-D animation, and for
once, you really get the feel of the scope of the suburb. It's used sparingly, but it's just enough to give the moments of
chaos an epic sweep to them.
Hans Zimmer takes over for Danny Elfman as Oscar-winning musical director, and
the composer of such films as “Pirates of the Caribbean,” “Batman Begins,” “Gladiator,”
and “The Lion King” pays perfect homage to the latter's score and adds the elegaic scope necessary for the series'
first cinematic endeavor.
The cast of Dan Castelleneta, Julie Kavner, Yeardly Smith, Nancy Cartwright, Harry
Shearer and Hank Azaria are uniformly excellent, but one almost yearns for hearing more from their much-loved supporting characters
(Principal Skinner, Duffman, we hardly knew ye!). It's a minor gripe, but an almost impossible task to ask, since there is
no way 18-years of wacky bit players can be siphoned into 90 minutes.
Where the film really reaches the same stratospheric heights (as when Homer became
an astronaut) is in the writing. The film has reeled in past series' scribe vets as George Meyer, David Mirkin, Mike Scully,
Mike Reiss and Jon Vitti, whose names may not mean much to the average readers, but who have collectively won more Emmys for
their work than Homer's been struck in his big bald noggin.
For the first 20 minutes of the film, the jokes are released in such a rapid-fire
succession that it's hard to keep up. Once the film settles into its groove, it has the feel of a film narrative, not three
half-hour episodes stitched together.
The resulting film is pure, unfiltered “Simpsons” that will provide
even the most cynical “Simpsons” critics more than enough to chortle about. Politics, religion, relationships
and community – the show's touchstones – are all sufficiently skewered. And, like all cartoons with longevity,
it has the feeling of both timeliness and timelessness. With guest stars throughout the years of everyone from weird Al Yankovic
to reclusive author Thomas Pynchon (twice!), we should expect nothing less.
While they get ready to launch their 19th season on television, the
creators of “The Simpsons” can rest assured that they now have yet another media to maintain immortality, and
this particular fan would not have it any other way.
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The Bourne Ultimatum
The franchise that brought you a criminal being mauled by a magazine, returns to present death by dish towel.
Yup, “The
Bourne Ultimatum,” the third film in the Bourne series brings back our hero, Jason Bourne (played by Matt Damon) who
takes out one of his adversaries using toiletries as a deadly weapon.
It may sound comical,
but director Paul Greengrass (returning after “United 97” for his “Bourne” duties) is in no laughing
mood.
Bourne, the awesome
superspy, is edging ever so close to his true identity, and with a seeming worldwide cadre of cops and spooks on his tail,
it is quite the task.
August is usually
the month of “remora releases.” By that, I mean that studios usually plop their least-trusted summer flicks in
the pond and hope that they latch on to the wallets of indiscriminate moviegoers eager to get a few more hours in the air-conditioned
theater before summer's end.
But Universal should
have had more faith in the franchise, as it easily muscles its way among the shape-shifting robots and hard-dying action predecessors.
In fact, the action
is vacuum-sealed so tightly within its two-hour run time, there's scant time for our hero – or the audience –
to come up for air. But this is not at the sacrifice of character development, as the brooding hero and his friends/nemeses
at the C.I.A. Get adequate depth provided as play tag across the globe.
Those returning
to lace up their running shoes for this third-time worldwide sprint include Damon, Julia Stiles and Joan Allen, while allowing
David Strathairn and Albert Finney into the race. All of them want Bourne, but their motives are across the board.
The film begins
as an addendum to “Supremecy,” as a tattered Bourne shuffles through the snowy Moscow streets, eluding police
and in badly need of some iodine after the nasty car crash that ended the previous film.
He then hops to
jolly old England, where a reporter is in the process of peeling the onion known as Blackbriar, a double super-secret U.S.
espionage program that even C.I.A. members are kept in the dark about. The program was apparently the birth of such superhuman
spies as Bourne, turning them all into arm-cracking, magazine-wielding, towel-twisting terrors.
The film changes little of the driver's-seat aspect that made “Supremacy” such a rush. It once again
places viewers nose-to-nose with its players and uses shots that look as though they were recorded from a car speeding over
a pot-hole-laden street, spliced with angles from a surveillance camera perspective.
The agita-inducing
lenswork, though, works for the film's personal progression, allowing intimacy with its leads that create character depth
without the need for wordy exposition. Critics have noted that the Bourne-like facelift given to the James Bond franchise,
and while this may prove true, the “Bourne” series has an even more urgent appeal, considering the main thrust
is our hero's search for self.
Damon should be
credited for transitioning his pretty-boy features into a haunted shell of a man. As he collects parcels of his past like
seashells, his intensity is not merely viewed by his wake of bodies, but with the glow of ghosts he may not yet want to confront.
The
rest of “Bourne's” cast is populated with A-grade actors, each capable of using facial expressions, body language
and awkward pauses to supplement their lack of dialogue(well, not so much Stiles, who only musters a vacant stare, incapable
of throwing purpose behind it). “Bourne” wraps itself up tightly in the cloak of this cloak-and-dagger thriller,
calling into question the motives of each of its characters until the final frames. And “Ultimatum” is a fitting
conclusion for its protagonist, who was once lost in the sea of his own consciousness.
The “Bourne” legacy
continues with another installment from writer Robert Ludlam, titled, ironically, “The Bourne Legacy.” Here's
hoping that Greengrass and Damon have yet another cinematic itch to scratch, for their teamwork has provided filmgoers with
many a manic, magic moment.
And, besides, there
is still an arsenal of household items Bourne can use to take down an army of enemies.
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Ratatoille
With apologies to Pixar: “In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little, yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their
work and their selves to our judgement. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and read. But the bitter truth
we critics must face is that, in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is more meaningful than our criticism
designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is the discovery and defense of the new.
Last week, I experienced something new, and extraordinary film from a singularly expected source. To say that both the film
and its makers have challenged my perceptions is a gross understatement. They have rocked me to my core.”
The above quote is lifted, (and slightly paraphrased) from the film “Ratatoille,”
penned by the film's chief villain, food critic Anton Ego (voiced by Peter O'Toole, having a blast). And leave it to the maestros
at Pixar to put it far more eloquently than this humble reviewer ever could.
Seriously, I am running out of superlatives for these guys.
Each successive film stuns and delights and makes minor improvements over the pervious.
This is not to say that this is a better film than “The Incredibles,” but there are refinements made that make
aspects of this film richer than before. Even Pixar's sole misstep, “Cars,” was light-years beyond any other animated
film released that year.
So thoroughly are the films realized, that each elements that makes the whole is
a master class – design, character development, story, even cinematography, if that is possible for an animated film.
While “Shrek” continues to hang its hat on the same tired gags and
pop-culture references, and other animation studios rush to cash in on the latest market craze (fractured fairy tales, talking
penguins), Pixar forges ahead in the market, constantly tweaking their product to enhance each and every aspect.
And the leader of these animated expeditions is director Brad Bird. Cutting his
teeth on “The Simpsons,” and creating one of two-dimensional animation's last great achievements, “The Iron
Giant,” Bird pushed Pixar to navigate uncharted waters with the studio's animation apex “The Incredibles.”
In “Ratatoille,” he's created another classic for their canon.
Pemy (voiced by comedian Patton Oswald) is a rat with a highly refined sense of
culinary creations. Not satisfied with dining on the discarded refuse of his human hosts, Remy seeks out singular foods and
flavors fussed over only rabid fans of “Emeril Live.”
His discriminating dining is a mystery to his brother Emile (animator Peter Sohn)
and father Django (Brian Dennehy), who have no qualms with blue fuzz on their cheese and warn Remy of rodents who mix too
closely with the human world.
Guided by his quest for superior sustenance, as well as a ghost of once-esteemed
French chef Gusteau (voiced by Brad Garrett), Remy winds up in the City of Lights and befriends a hapless kitchen helper named
Linguini (voiced by Lou Ramano).
Their inter-species camaraderie blossoms in Gusteau's formerly famous restaurant
that has since suffered the perils of over-marketing thanks to its angry little sawed-off chef (voiced by Ian Holm), who pimps
out the Gusteau name to everything from BBQ ribs to tacos.
Meanwhile, Linguini rises through the ranks, from garbage boy to chef, with the
help of Remy quite literally pulling some strings for him. You see, Remy gets housed under his toque and manipulates his limbs
by pulling tufts of Linguini's hair.
How this stumblebum of an young man can create such masterful meals astounds his
boss and his co-workers (and the slapstick antics are right out of a Jerry Lewis textbook... the film is set in France, you
know), including the aggressive Collette (wonderfully voiced by Janeane Garfalo).
In fact, this film is filled with many voices from noticeable actors that fly under
the radar until the end credits. Where many animated films get lost in fawning over merely having a celebrity lend his or
her name to a project (Justin Timberlake? Cameron Diaz? Ashton Kutcher?), Bird required his actors to get lost in their roles,
treating them as though it were no different than a live-action film.
That is only part of “Ratatoille's” appeal.
Comedy, drama and action are all handled lovingly and expertly, even if the film's
core message – to set aside differences and appreciate one's qualities on an indivdual basis – is time-worn.
Visually sumptuous, dramatically rich and simmering with warmth and compassion
for all its characters, “Ratatoille” is yet another fine dish prepared up from an animation studio that always
seems to serve its product with only the finest ingredients.
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