REVIEW: Don Jon (2013)

Don Jon is Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s feature debut as both a writer and a director, an odd romantic comedy about a young womaniser from Brooklyn who tries to wean himself off porn after he gets a real, flesh and blood girlfriend. It has things to say about how men use pornography but how deep into this difficult subject is Gordon-Levitt willing to go?

Jon (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) goes to clubs and takes a woman, never less than an 8 out of 10, home every time. However, sexual intercourse is always unfulfilling to him since he has developed an addiction to porn. As a result of this addiction, his ideas about sex are grossly unrealistic if not selfish and misogynistic. To his friends (Rob Brown and Jeremy Luke), however, he is a god and he likes the way they think. Until he spots Barbara Sugarman (Scarlett Johansson), a 10 or ‘dime’, who doesn’t fall for his practised, over-confident advances. It may well be love but how does their relationship compare with his porn habit?

Early on, the film offers a fast-paced introduction to Jon’s lifestyle, full of editing and camera tricks. It is also surprisingly fearless in its representation of porn, which is not used for easy laughs, but tackled with a degree of realism and seriousness. Nor is it immediately represented as particularly damaging, though one’s level of scepticism towards Jon’s self-justifying voiceover will probably depend on one’s own feelings about pornography. Don Jon is about what men use porn for, rather than the nature of porn itself, and as a result it may be queasily recognisable to some men.

The film also offers, albeit briefly, an alternative reading of romantic Hollywood films, suggesting that they are a kind of porn as well. Instead of offering instant sexual gratification, Hollywood films offer an idealised version of love and self-sacrifice which, as Don Jon suggests, may be just as damaging to one’s sense of reality. Barbara loves cheesy films but cannot come to terms with the fact that Jon likes porn – or that he does his own housework - suggesting that one idealised form is just as incompatible as the other. Hence, while Jon is disappointed with sexual intercourse, Barbara is disappointed by their relationship. However, if realism and an emotional openness are advocated as the best way towards a healthy relationship – as they are in Cassavetes’ similarly themed Minnie and Moskowitz - there is little hint of this in the film, which ends somewhere close to the romantic Hollywood standard.

Don Jon has ideas that make sense but it does not look at them in any depth. The idea of pornography having a Hollywood equivalent is vaguely drawn and left inconclusive. Similarly, the film ends very quickly and easily; making Jon’s problem seem like one that was very easy to shrug off and, hence, not really a problem. Jon finds happiness in a “real” relationship – a real relationship in movie terms rather than in terms of reality – too suddenly, without difficultly or jeopardy and without any long-term effects. It ends up being just as convincing as Jon’s feeble attempts to justify his porn habit at the beginning of the film. Also, Jon’s misogyny, very clear in the early part of the film, is left unaddressed. Ultimately, Don Jon comes to resemble a morality tale – one that has something valid to say about the effects of pornography but which uses the conservative language of true love to advocate something equally unrealistic.

Undercutting the film’s serious intentions further is Gordon-Levitt’s use of caricature. His family (Tony Danza, Glenne Headly and Brie Larson) seems like something out of an outrageous sitcom, constantly shouting, swearing excessively and always close to fistfights. Meanwhile Jon’s antics while on a night-out or his aggressive driving are far from subtly drawn and often simply played for laughs. Nearly every actor overacts, clearly with the impression that the film was supposed to be more flamboyant and silly than Gordon-Levitt really intended. The only serious performance comes from Julianne Moore, and feels, like the character, out of place. As a drama, it is exaggerated, which makes the happy but serious pro-romance ending all the more ill fitting, especially since it looks as light and insubstantial as the pointedly light and insubstantial beginning. Heartfelt drama isn’t really part of this film’s repertoire. And though the film is funny, it is not funny enough throughout to make up for the underdeveloped dramatics.

Don Jon is a surprisingly confident debut from Joseph Gordon-Levitt and his choice of subject matter displays a bravery and wealth of ideas. It is very possible that his next film will be much better, and much more concentrated. As it stands, Don Jon is a diverting entertainment but rather feeble as a warning about the effects of pornography or as a drama about unrealistic expectations.

See also: Lovelace

REVIEW: Lincoln (2013)

Lincoln is, of course, one of this awards season’s biggest contenders, a two and a half hour biopic about one of America’s most beloved presidents directed by Steven Spielberg and lead by Daniel Day-Lewis. It is one of those films that, on the surface, would seem to be all about the awards. But is this the only thing that Lincoln is interested in?

Lincoln follows the last few months of the American president’s life in 1865 as he fights to get the Thirteenth Amendment, which will outlaw slavery, through Congress by the most politically convenient way possible. He risks splitting his party in two, losing to the Democrats and extending the Civil War. There is also domestic strife from his mentally scarred wife Mary Todd (Sally Field) and his son Robert (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) who insists on fighting in the war. The film’s primary focus is on Lincoln’s determination and his political manipulation.

Though the film begins with a battle sequence, one that is both surprisingly horrible and surprisingly restrained, there is very little seen of the war in the rest of the film. Lincoln is primarily a chamber piece, largely made up of conversations exploring the political manoeuvres necessary to bring about the Thirteenth Amendment. The film works as a tribute to democracy in that it shows it in progress and, ultimately, working. However, the film might also be seen as a reminder that it is difficult and time-consuming, possibly one aimed at those who are currently disappointed at Obama’s progress. Lincoln is best as a political film, showing the ways in which dedicated and savvy politicians can get their way, and it is often riveting. Staunch abolitionist Thaddeus Stevens (Tommy Lee Jones) is one of the most interesting characters, a radical who faces the dilemma of holding his tongue in order to make the Amendment more attractive to his political rivals. The film addresses the difficulties in such compromises and yet makes a convincing case for the greater good.

The film has been criticized justifiably for its lack of black faces, especially since there were outspoken and influential black abolitionists at the time. Apart from the film’s opening, in which Lincoln interviews and is impressed by two black soldiers, there is never a black character who wouldn’t be easily described as passive. In this regard, the film could have been worse and Spielberg and writer Tony Kushner seem to be aware of some of the pitfalls, since they do not conclude the film with a sea of black people thanking Lincoln for sorting out slavery. After all, Lincoln is primarily about democracy and Abraham Lincoln himself, it is not called Slavery or, even, The Amendment. It is not the definitive film on either of these two subjects, just as Schindler’s List is not necessarily a film about the Holocaust and Saving Private Ryan a film about World War II – I would argue that, in both cases, they are films in which Spielberg, being in the main an optimistic filmmaker, searches for the good in humanity even in its worst atrocities.

Daniel Day-Lewis is very good as Lincoln. Though his performance slightly hampered by the need to imitate the popular conception of the sixteenth president, Day-Lewis brings out the man’s humanity and humour perfectly. Some of the film’s best moments are when the film slows down to accommodate Lincoln’s roundabout way of getting to the point, telling stories which may or may not turn out to have a point but yet are always entertaining. His colleagues are often exasperated by his ramblings, but they are often where the heart of the film lies, especially since Lincoln’s chatter is precisely what brings others, and himself, around to a particular opinion. Lincoln’s determination once his mind is made up is also well brought out and his suddenly explosive anger is effective because it is so rarely seen.

Though the film does inevitably fall to deifying Lincoln, it is surprising how human it allows Lincoln to remain for the majority of the film. Spielberg can be mawkish and there is certainly at least one terrible moment in which William Slade (Stephen Henderson) watches Lincoln heroically walking off to Ford’s Theatre as if they both know that he must leave this world and march off into history. Or something. Most of the time, however, Spielberg avoids such triteness, instead delivering a believable biopic of Lincoln and an endlessly watchable account of democracy in action. With a very good script, which loves an old 19^th century American turn of phrase as much as Tommy Lee Jones loves saying them, and a down to earth treatment coupled with a great central performance, Lincoln is surprisingly good.

REVIEW: Looper (2012) (SPOILERS)

Rian Johnson’s third feature as writer-director is a knowingly daft though often serious science-fiction time travel yarn. Not as subversive or as funny as his first feature, Brick, nor as unfocussed as his second, the conman movie The Brothers Bloom, Looper is a defiant step closer to the mainstream, but with enough Rian-isms to keep fans interested.

Joseph Gordon-Levitt plays Joe, a mob hired gun in 2042. As the prologue explains in voiceover, a necessary act of bad screenwriting, Joe is a ‘looper’, a hit man who disposes of people who have been sent back from the future. In 2072, it will be practically impossible to get away with murder, so future gangsters send their victims back 30 years. When a looper has fulfilled his duty, he must ‘close the loop’ by killing his future self, take a big pay-off and enjoy the thirty years they have left. However, when Joe must unexpectedly close his own loop, he fails, allowing his future self (Bruce Willis) to escape.

The film sounds rather dodgy and the plot sounds like something that would be over-stretched inside thirty minutes. The film’s set-up is also problematic as there is a lot of information that has to be imparted before the main action can begin. However, the film gets by thanks to its sheer verve, something that is never lacking in a Rian Johnson film. The idea is silly but things are not always too serious and the whole thing moves along at a good, possibly too near choppy, speed. It is all buoyed by the quality of its ideas, of which there are a lot. The film can shock and/or horrify when it needs to, especially with a grim set-up sequence involving Seth (a shrill Paul Dano) and his future self, which pushes the film close to Cronenbergian body horror. As a result, the film rarely flags and is often really rather witty.

However, once Bruce Willis appears and then escapes, the film shifts gears, becoming a chase film with shades of drama. Then the horror movie strains are developed further. Before, the film felt primarily like Twelve Monkeys crossed with Goodfellas and Mean Streets – as a side note the film works quite well as a Scorsese-esque gangster film set in the future for as long as it cares to. A segue into The Terminator and The Omen is surprising and, admittedly, well orchestrated but it does give the film an oddly lop-sided feel in retrospect.

That said, and this is a constant theme in this review, the film gets away with it entirely thanks to the cleverness of its own conception and presentation. To name a few of the ideas that help the film along will spoil the surprise, so read no further if you intend to go and see the film without knowing too much about it – which is recommended. The aforementioned body horror sequence with Seth, which is horrible and incredibly inventive. Old Joe can track Joe as everything Joe does creates a new memory for Old Joe, who then merely re-traces his steps. An action sequence seen from two perspectives skilfully makes this clear and also has a lot of fun with it. The running joke about telepathy becoming only a pick-up tactic with annoying men which goes further than you’d think. One short scene in which Bruce Willis tries to recall his wife while his memories of her fade since it is becoming less and less likely that Gordon-Levitt’s Joe will ever met her. He remembers her thanks to a slap, gestures becoming temporal links and bridging different timelines and alternate realities. With the skill of an essay-filmmaker as great as Chris Marker, Rian Johnson brings up plot points alongside ideas about the nature of time, memory and experience, all with his customary brio. Finally, a subtle but somewhat innovative critical take on the action movie genre developed across juxtaposition and camera movement. First, a murder spree from Bruce Willis is left unseen as the camera focuses instead on a wall, slowly approaching a corner around which the carnage would be visible. Johnson teases our gory expectations while also radically refusing to show anything, refusing to glorify Willis’ violence or to show that it can do any good (a conclusion borne out by the film’s ending). Similarly, we don’t see the final confrontation between Willis and bad guy Jeff Daniels, only the aftermath. Second, and more subtly, we see a child (Pierce Gagnon) with blood all over his face. The thrust of the narrative makes us think him deeply sinister and to even urge Gordon-Levitt to kill him. However, following Willis’ killing spree, he is similarly seen with blood all over his face, though now we have been positioned to see him as heroic rather than sinister. The film very cleverly mocks our twisted ideas of moral and amoral violence, showing violence as only damaging no matter from which side it comes. The end of the film reaffirms this with a humanist ending which emphasises free will and risk over inhumane violence and certainty, all without moralising.

Whether the above reading is convincing or not, Looper remains, nevertheless, a surprising and somewhat complex work. At the risk of sounding repetitive, the film is packed with interesting ideas and clever conceits. Aside from being a lot of fun, the film is inventive and imaginative, a too rarely found thing in semi-mainstream American cinema. It is not without its flaws and distractions – Piper Perabo having nothing to do but presumably fulfil some sort of stodgy nudity quota; Emily Blunt’s character shifting to fit the plot’s twists and turns; Willis’ acting only rarely being up to scratch; Gordon-Levitt’s make-up. However, the film ends up developing enough good will to see it through.

REVIEW: The Dark Knight Rises (2012)

  With The Dark Knight Rises, Christopher Nolan apparently closes his retrospectively named Batman trilogy. Nolan has long been credited with making intelligent blockbusters that engage the mind as well as delivering all the thrills and spectacle that the Hollywood big budget production line demands. With The Dark Knight and Inception, Nolan has managed to create blockbusters that are oftentimes complex and open to many interpretations. Does his fondness for clever action spectacle shine through in The Dark Knight Rises?

  Eight years after the events of The Dark Knight, Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale) has become a Howard Hughes-like recluse. Older and frailer, he has left Gotham City to the care of the police. However, Commissioner Gordon accidentally discovers an underground army, run by Bane (Tom Hardy), which threatens to rise and attack the very fabric of Gotham’s existence.

  Initially, the film is a bit of a mess, hurriedly introducing several new characters, who will all become important later, with several different plot threads which will all tie up in some unlikely ways. The film is slow to find its footing and it is frequently wrong footed as the convoluted plot carries on, making varying degrees of sense as it goes. Rarely does the film manage to find a key scene and stick with it, with several scenes that should be have much more significance being lost in a fast-paced montage of several, much more functional scenes. Even key emotional scenes, like those between Wayne and his butler Alfred (Michael Caine) appear rushed, intended to important context or motivation, disappear from the screen and, often, from memory much too quickly. The film is rarely allowed to breathe and never really recovers from its rushed and often rather hackneyed pacing and storyline, becoming, in the final analysis, a film without a core.

  Much less comprehensible is the film’s final point. Critics, in particular, pride themselves in identifying Nolan as a blockbuster director with smarts, but The Dark Knight Rises is a shallow film. Yes, it references the economic downturn and the culpability of the rich, but they are exactly that – references without any real conclusions being drawn. The same can be said for the film’s politics. One of the more difficult things about The Dark Knight was an ending that advocates lying to the public in order to get the job done, epitomized in this film with the Dent Act. Put simply, Batman and Gordon are lying to the people of Gotham City for their own well-being, a difficult proposition not so long after the WMD controversy. The Dark Knight Rises does ultimately disown the previous film’s conclusion and the Dent Act, but instead it starts talking about the people. Batman frequently talks about the importance of the Batman as a symbol for the downtrodden and about what he must give to the people of Gotham (a typical exchange being – Catwoman: “You don’t owe these people anymore. You’ve given them everything?” Batman: “Not everything. Not yet”; an apparent suggestion that he can still give his life). Similarly, Bane preaches to these same people that Gotham City is theirs for the taking and that they must fulfil their own destiny, one without the lies and falsehoods of Batman and Gordon and the Dent Act. However, where are these people of Gotham and who are they? We never see them (even when Bane’s minions attack innocent people, they are clearly the rich and privileged) and when Bane takes control of Gotham, are we to assume that the people are all collaborators? We never see them rebel against Bane, like the police ultimately do. And if they have joined Bane, then why is it so important for Batman to save them? In fact, the only so-called people of Gotham that we see are two construction workers who are openly colluding with Bane. There is a message somewhere in The Dark Knight Rises, one that is ultimately a humanist one about the importance of looking after each other and helping people in need (this does come across towards the end in a clipped conversation between Batman and Gordon), but it is lost in the flow of (too much) information and by the typically Hollywood need to move along quickly to the next money shot or action sequence. Nolan might be credited with pioneering the clever blockbuster lately, but with The Dark Knight Rises, he has made a rather facile action film that superficially presents real-world problems and fails to cohere around any central point.

  When it wasn’t being silly, The Dark Knight proved surprisingly adept at being exciting. Aside from many well-constructed action sequences, the film was an often stirring and fascinating examination of terrorism, psychosis and widespread hysteria with many scenes that matched the sweep of Michael Mann’s classic Heat with a complexity and intensity that seemed to defy conventional blockbuster rules. The Dark Knight Rises is clearly aware of what made The Dark Knight’s best scenes work so well, but it has given itself too little space to successfully replicate them, with even the film’s action scenes paling in comparison. However, the film is not a total write-off. After all, the performances are still of a high standard, particularly, as with the two previous films, Gary Oldman, the direction is broad and interesting and the cinematography is flawless. But it smacks hopelessly of expectations not met and of the bar having been raised too high.

  The Dark Knight Rises is a messy film that could have used a tighter, tougher script and more consideration as to what the film is supposed to be about. The typical Nolan ambiguous ending really should have worked but feels botched, if only because certain revelations make Batman’s actions seem odd. The film fails ultimately to measure up to The Dark Knight, a film whose flaws were outnumbered by its graces. With too few graces to make it work, The Dark Knight Rises is ultimately beaten down by its flaws, which are often too big to ignore.