Django Unchained

Slave couple Django (Jamie Foxx) and Broomhilda (Kerry Washington) are split up by a spiteful master and sold separately at auction. Django is freed from his new owners by Dr. King Schultz (Christoph Waltz), a German dentist-turned-bounty hunter who needs him to spot his latest quarry. In exchange for partnering up, Schultz promises Django money, his freedom, and the chance to save Broomhilda from her new owner, the suave but sadistic Calvin Candie (Leonardo DiCaprio).

An epic Blaxploitation Spaghetti Western set in the Deep South seems like something hypothesized during a drunken party game, but for Quentin Tarantino, it’s par for the course. In many ways, Django Unchained is the ultimate Tarantino film. It combines the director’s love of 70s genre movies (the title pays homage to the classic Italian Western Django, and that film’s star, Franco Nero, cameos here), shocking violence and brutality (to an almost cartoonish level of excess), off-kilter banter (a group of proto-Klansmen engage in an internal bitchfest about whether their hoods are worth wearing due to the obstructed vision), and a distinctive soundtrack (where else would Ennio Morricone rub elbows with Rick Ross and John Legend?). The resulting amalgamation is clearly not for everyone, but for those who are not put off by it, there is a lot to like here.

Despite the ugliness of its subject matter, Django Unchained is beautifully shot. Whether it’s the serenity of a snowy winter, the grandeur of a Southern plantation, or the blood-stained halls of a shot-up mansion, the film leaves a distinct visual impression. That, coupled with the aforementioned soundtrack, helps perpetuate Tarantino’s legacy as a stylistic maestro.

The characters, like the content, are similarly repellant, but the performances, though uneven, feature a few gems. Waltz gives the best turn here. His bounty hunter is jovial, irrepressible, and, ironically, the film’s moral center. Foxx fills the lead role well enough, but he never hits the emotional highs one would expect. His is a perpetually controlled fury that manifests itself solely in the (admittedly, really cool) rapid pull of a trigger. On the other end of the spectrum, DiCaprio shamelessly overacts as Candie: genteel one moment, a raving psychopath the next. His partner-in-exaggeration is none other than Samuel L. Jackson, who looks like just came from filming a rice commercial. As Candie’s head of household, Jackson’s Stephen vacillates between toadying yes-man (his public persona) and maliciously cunning (in private). Then there’s poor Kerry Washington, who is given little to do here save for mutter a few lines in German and look frightened. While some of the cast were clearly just along for the ride, the motley assemblage of names and faces (look for Don Johnson and Jonah Hill, among others) makes this worth watching for curiosity alone.

Much has been said for how Django Unchained approaches the issue of slavery.  Tarantino has taken his share of hits for making such an unorthodox film on the subject, especially one that is often so uncomfortably funny. But just as Inglourious Basterds showed us vis-à-vis the Holocaust, there is a deeper message that lies beyond the director’s audacity. In Django Unchained, the dehumanizing effect of slavery looms large throughout. Whether it’s Django’s numbness to the suffering of the myriad slaves he encounters or Stephen’s years of internalized racism, the evil of the institution is amplified rather than downplayed (as Tarantino’s critics have alleged).

With a nearly three-hour run time and buckets of gore and blood, Django Unchained will test your limits as a viewer. But if you can hang on without getting bucked from the proverbial horse, it’s one hell of a ride.

8.25/10

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey

Years ago, the dwarvish kingdom of Erebor was renowned for its great prosperity. The kingdom accumulated so much gold, in fact, that it attracted the attention of the dragon Smaug, who promptly took it over and exiled all the dwarves. Sixty years later, thirteen dwarves under the command of Thorin (Richard Armitage) join forces with the wizard Gandalf (Ian McKellen) and the hobbit Bilbo Baggins (Martin Henderson) to retake Erebor. Along the way, they will encounter trolls, goblins, the dreaded orcs, and a number of other dangers.

It seems utterly insane to stretch J.R.R. Tolkien’s 300-page novel into an epic three-film trilogy, but director Peter Jackson was never one for restraint. The same formula that won him so much acclaim for the Lord of the Rings trilogy can be found again here. Breathtaking visuals, rousing action, and a spirit of triumph are tempered by loads of characters to keep track of and a somewhat oppressive (nearly three hours) run time.

The extent to which The Hobbit shares common DNA with LOTR is both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, the wealth of familiar faces (in addition to McKellen, Ian Holm, Elijah Wood, Hugo Weaving, Cate Blanchett, Christopher Lee, and Andy Serkis all reprise their roles) helps establish continuity and eases in those unfamiliar with the novel. On the other hand, a lengthy scene that introduces us to Gollum feels like a misplaced distraction.

As a self-contained work, The Hobbit features a fine performance from Henderson as the fastidious, self-doubting younger Bilbo. McKellen could play Gandalf in his sleep, but the septuagenarian continues to bring vigor and a commanding presence to the role. On the other hand, Armitage doesn’t look very much like a dwarf, and his Thorin, at times, feels like a second-rate stand-in for Aragorn.

From mass melee battles to death-defying journeys across rocky chasms, the film is not lacking in excitement. The combat is balanced by a good amount of humor, often at the expense of the easily perturbed Bilbo. In spite of this, watching The Hobbit is still an exhaustive experience. The film feels long, and reaching the end and knowing that something resembling closure is still two movies away makes it seem even longer.

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey is a visual marvel with ample talent on both sides of the camera, but watching it is as much a burden as it is a reward.

8/10

Hyperion

With the galaxy on the brink of civil war, a bureaucrat, a soldier, a shaman, a priest, a poet, a scholar, and a detective make a last perilous pilgrimage to the distant planet Hyperion where a mythical deity called The Shrike may hold the answers to all their questions. During the voyage, they take turns sharing their stories and revealing their motivations for undertaking such a dangerous quest.

Dan Simmons’ 1989 Hugo Award-winning novel has both the trappings of stock science fiction and the literary bonafides to easily transcend it. The futuristic setting of Hyperion is home to the requisite robots (both androids and more humanistic “cybrids”), rebels (the mysterious Ousters), empire (the Hegemony of Man), technology upgrades (interstellar “farcasting”) and more. And while the omnipresent jargon can be a bit much, Hyperion can also lay claim to an impressive amount of breadth and depth.

To start, both the narrative and the characters are intricately crafted. The pilgrimage serves as a frame story as each traveler has his or her tale revealed. The backstories, without exception, are rife with personal tragedies (the priest discovers the horrible fate of his mentor, the scholar’s daughter ages backwards and loses her memory, etc.) but are still distinct enough to maintain some elements of surprise. Moreover, each story’s narrative voice is well-suited to the character. The poet’s tale, for instance, is both cultured and decadent while the detective’s basks in Chandleresque noir.

In addition, Simmons has clearly done his homework. The novel is structured like The Canterbury Tales, but it shares a title with a poem by John Keats that tells the story of the fallen Greek Titans (with clear parallels to the book’s plot), and the poet himself turns up reincarnated in a way (it makes sense in context). There are also allusions to modern science (faster-than-light travel is enabled by a “Hawking Drive”), politics (Hyperion’s late king is descended from the House of Windsor), religion (the emigration from Earth is called the hegira as in Islam’s hejira) and more. Reading Hyperion is like examining our cultural legacy through the telescopic lens of the future, a provocatively fascinating experience.

The book’s biggest drawback is the pacing. For as much as the backstories can be engrossing, they all contain portions that are eminently skipable. There is also a lot of build-up to an ending that amounts to the most shamelessly blatant sequel hook I’ve encountered since the first Lord of the Rings movie.

As a self-contained work, Hyperion demands patience but rewards it generously. If you can get past the jargon and make do with a lack of closure, there is a lot that is worth your attention here.

8.25/10

Killing Them Softly

Markie Trattman (Ray Liotta) runs a lucrative illegal poker game that he allegedly robbed several years ago. Ex-con Squirrel (Vincent Curatola) is certain that if the game is robbed again, Markie will take the blame for it. He then recruits his nervous protégé Frankie (Scoot McNairy) and Frankie’s ne’er do well friend Russell (Ben Mendelsohn) to do the deed. In the aftermath, the mob calls in hitman Jackie Cogan (Brad Pitt) to finger the culprits and mete out justice, a task that becomes increasingly frustrating and complicated over time.

Directed and written by Andrew Dominik, Killing Them Softly is a jarringly odd cinematic chimera. The plot comes courtesy of Cogan’s Trade, a 1974 crime novel by the late George V. Higgins, but the setting and thematic inspiration are rooted in the 2008 financial crisis. The result is that 70s cars, 70s fashion, and tough-guy dialogue share the screen with allusions to “recession pricing” and economic speeches from George W. Bush and Barack Obama on nearly every television and radio. Dominik’s message is obvious: the savagery of the criminal economy (illegal poker games and all) is a microcosm of what goes on in the legitimate world, but the stylistic idiosyncrasy with which that message is presented (gunfire one moment, a conversation over drinks the next, and a presidential speech after that) makes it impossible to take seriously.

Fortunately, though Killing Them Softly blunders as a “message movie,” not all hope is lost. For starters, it is perfectly cast. Pitt is convincing as the ruthless, competent, ultra-professional Cogan. He is complemented by James Gandolfini as a washed-up alcoholic colleague and Richard Jenkins as a nameless, put-upon mob bureaucrat. The lack of female characters is perplexing, but it fits with the film’s general audacity.

Another noteworthy point is the film’s constant juggling of moods. Though the plot and setting both scream “high stakes,” Dominik weaves a surprising amount of dark humor into the presentation. Whether its Jenkins’ character admonishing Cogan (the killer he hired) for smoking or Russell trying to corral a half-dozen dogs as part of a failed scheme, there are fitfully amusing moments amid the bloodshed. But this too undermines the film’s efficacy as an economic critique.

Killing Them Softly doesn’t make easy or conventional choices, and while that’s commendable, the end result (including a finale that resolves nothing) is more than a bit disappointing.

7.25/10

Taste of Thai

Located at 1500 Mill Street off Westover Terrace in Greensboro, Taste of Thai is open for lunch and dinner seven days a week. A buffet is offered during lunch hours, and specials rotate regularly.

As previously mentioned, Greensboro offers quite the diverse array of southeastern Asian cuisine. On one end of the spectrum, you have something like the Bangkok Café, a tiny, hole-in-the wall family establishment that offers nothing in the way of presentation but satisfies with relatively cheap authentic cuisine. Taste of Thai is the antithesis of that: the restaurant is inviting and well-appointed, but the flavors can’t compete.

In all fairness, however, “authenticity” isn’t a game that Taste of Thai professes to play. The slightly daunting multi-sectioned menu does include Thai staples (Pad Thai and various curries), but you can also find Chinese-inspired dishes and even an Italian-accented special or two. This Thai fusion approach may alienate purists, but it does offer a wealth of interesting options. They won’t come as strongly seasoned as they would at say Thai Corner Kitchen, but they are prepared with care, and a judicious application of condiments can restore some of the missing heat.

No matter what you opt for, Taste of Thai represents a good value. The lunch buffet is all you can eat for under $10. On a recent visit, a pair of $12 specials (“two way” chicken and a lamb dish with black bean sauce) each came with salads (with addictively delicious peanut dressing) and a sweet potato dessert.

Service at Taste of Thai is professional and courteous but not exactly fleet-footed. If you aren’t pressed for time, you can take in the music (usually calm and soothing but not around the holidays) and admire the art (clichéd Asian but classy nonetheless) on the walls. Otherwise, prepare for a bit of a wait to get your food (unless, of course, you do the buffet).

Taste of Thai is many things: an enticing lunch destination, a safe bet for Thai newbies, a chance to try some creative cooking, an eminently reasonable dinner spot, and so on. The best Thai restaurant in Greensboro, however, it is not.

7.75/10

Swamplandia!

For years, the Swamplandia! theme park has drawn tourists to an island off the coast of Florida to witness the alligator wrestling exploits of Hilola Bigtree. But in the wake of her early death from cancer, the park’s business has dried up and the Bigtree family is in pieces. Park founder Grandpa Sawtooth has been unceremoniously dumped in a retirement home. His son, “Chief” Sam Bigtree, is in denial about the park’s financial situation. Kiwi, the Chief’s son, has taken a job with a rival theme park to earn money for the family. Kiwi’s sister Osceola has become dangerously infatuated with a ghost. It then falls on the youngest Bigtree, 13-year-old Ava, to keep what remains of Swamplandia! afloat.

“Prodigal” isn’t a term to be thrown around lightly, but given that Karen Russell published Swamplandia! at the ripe old age of 29 after already debuting a short story collection at 26, it might be apt here. If nothing else, Russell continues to demonstrate an almost uncanny command of language. But as many seasoned readers know, it takes more than good writing to make a good novel, and what might work in a shorter format might not work in a longer one.

Swamplandia! is, on many levels, both haunted and haunting. Hilola’s demise casts a long shadow over all of the characters, and that acutely captured grief moves us as well. We feel her loss in the choices her family members make in her absence. At the same time, Swamplandia! is steeped, convincingly, in a world that allows for ghosts (amid all other kinds of strangeness. “Alligator wrestling theme park” is just the tip of the iceberg). Russell excels at creating an otherworldly texture that can be felt across every page.

But while the backdrop is strange, Swamplandia! is more than just a collection of carnival freaks. The characters, funny as they are, embody all the contradictions of humanity. Kiwi’s exploits on the mainland are fitfully amusing due to his naiveté, but you can’t help but pity his Sisyphean task. Chief Bigtree straddles the line between buffoonish petty tyrant and consummate showman/sad clown in a way that leaves you guessing as to his true nature and intentions. Oddly, as a focal character, Ava suffers in comparison. She is absolutely the right choice for a narrator – the world of Swamplandia! would only make sense through a child’s eyes – but the height of Russell’s diction deprives her of a more organic voice.

The one thing Swamplandia! lacks is a definite sense of direction. There’s a structure in place (alternating chapters between Kiwi and Ava’s parallel adventures), and things do happen, but it’s almost as if Russell loses interest in exploring the implications of those occurrences. Too much unfolds here via chance or circumstance, characters move in and out of focus, and there is a hazy treatment of time. The ending, which is both ridiculous and unsatisfying, leaves far too much unanswered and unresolved.

Pulitzer consideration aside, Swamplandia! is hardly a great novel. However, it does make for a bizarrely captivating diversion, and it continues to showcase Russell’s skill as a stylist. Here’s hoping that she figures out plotting and pacing in time for her next release.

7.25/10

New Orleans Bar and Grill

NOTE: New Orleans underwent a redesign (possible change in ownership?) a few years back. It lost the kitschy decor and raised prices.


Located at 4312 Big Tree Way in Greensboro, New Orleans Bar and Grill specializes in Cajun and Creole cuisine. It is open for lunch and dinner seven days a week and features a full-service bar, event space, and catering.

Good Cajun (or Cajun and Creole, to be accurate) food is hard to come by, so this newish addition to Greensboro’s dining scene engendered a certain amount of enthusiasm. However, that enthusiasm was tempered by healthy skepticism: next to a Chinese buffet off Wendover Avenue is not where one would think to go for a top-notch meal. Don’t let the location fool you, though. New Orleans Bar and Grill looks like a keeper.

The restaurant is housed in a rather large two-story building, but size in eateries is not always an advantage. Too much empty space can feel cold and lonely. Fortunately, New Orleans is inviting and well-appointed. Take a moment to admire the arched entryways, the brick columns, and the assortment of brass instruments high on the walls. Appropriately, a steady stream of classic jazz adds to the ambiance.

Turning toward the menu, New Orleans offers everything you’d expect and many things you won’t. Cajun classics, such as gumbo and jambalaya are here, but so are crawfish nachos and a section of pasta dishes (which, confusingly, includes paella). From fish and seafood to steaks to salads and sandwiches to chicken prepared a number of different ways, the menu is dexterous enough to accommodate a variety of palates. Pricing ($8 and up for lunch sandwiches, $13-$16 for non-steak entrees) is no great bargain, but it is still within reason.

If a first visit was any indication, New Orleans does more than just look the part. The gumbo was thick, slightly salty, and thoroughly satisfying. The jambalaya included banana peppers, an unexpected twist that brought some welcome heat. The only demerit (unless you want to count misspelled menu items) came when my girlfriend tried what was supposed to be Cajun tilapia. The lightly fried fish was well-prepared but devoid of Cajun seasoning and decidedly bland.

Taken all together – compelling food, relaxing atmosphere, hospitable servers – New Orleans Bar and Grill has a lot to offer. Repeat visits will likely test whether the rest of the menu holds up as well as the staples I sampled, but the decision to go back seems like a big easy.

8/10

Looper

In the future, time travel is invented and coopted by underworld bosses, who use it to send people they want to get rid of back 30 years. These victims are disposed of by “loopers” – assassins who are paid in silver. Joe (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is one such looper: competent at his job, but drug-addled and disillusioned. Joe’s plans of escaping the life are thwarted by the arrival of his older, future self (Bruce Willis), who is determined to track down and kill a future despot, thereby preventing the eventual murder of his wife.

From The Terminator to 12 Monkeys, Looper pays homage to a variety of sci fi classics, but spiritually speaking, the film it evokes the most may very well be Donnie Darko. Like that movie, Looper offers a bold vision that pushes intellectual boundaries. Also like that movie, Looper is frustratingly perplexing on first viewing and gets bogged down by the murkiness of its reality-defying mechanics.

The third feature from writer/director Rian Johnson, Looper continues to solidify his reputation as a distinctive stylist. The best way to describe the film’s fictive future is retro chic: Joe’s prized possession is a Mazda Miata, and the bad guys don’t carry lasers but ridiculously large revolvers. This blending of new and old disarms viewers and toys with dystopian clichés, as does the film’s violence.

Lending substance to this style is a competent cast of big names and lesser-known talents. Between this and The Dark Knight Rises, Gordon-Levitt has settled all doubts regarding his credibility as an action protagonist. Willis, who retired those doubts decades ago, is in rare form here: his Joe is absolutely relentless, but he continues to hold onto his conscience as he does unconsciously things. Englishwoman Emily Blunt is surprisingly convincing as a Kansas farm mother, and newcomer Pierce Gagnon is downright creepy to watch as her precocious, “gifted” child. Rounding out the cast are Jeff Daniels (as the affably sinister looper boss), Johnson film veteran Noah Segan (as his inept henchman), and Paul Dano (as Joe’s friend and colleague).

Unfortunately, the talent on both sides of the camera cannot entirely compensate for the massive holes in the execution. To put it simply, for as hard as Looper tries to suck us into its world, it still leaves too many questions unanswered. We never learn, for instance, why the loopers are necessary (it is off-handedly mentioned that forensic technology is greatly improved in the future, but it still seems a stretch, especially given the power and influence the underworld is supposed to have). We also don’t see any other instances of time travel being used voluntarily (i.e. to escape the wrath of the future Rainmaker’s reign of terror), nor do we ever learn the genesis of the film’s telekinetic abilities.

All told, Looper is audacious, thought-provoking, and often entertaining but also something of a disappointment. Some kind of expanded edition could probably clear up a few of the film’s mysterious, but until then, accept it as a good film that could have been even better.

8/10

Argo

In the opening stages of the Iranian Hostage Crisis, six American embassy workers escape and take refuge with the Canadian ambassador (Victor Garber). It is up to CIA “exfiltration” expert Tony Mendez (Ben Affleck, who also directed) to devise a way to sneak the Americans out before the Iranians notice they are missing from the embassy. To this end, Mendez concocts a scheme to have them pose as a Canadian film crew doing location scouting for a science fiction movie. He enlists award-winning makeup artist John Chambers (John Goodman) and veteran Hollywood producer Lester Siegel (Alan Arkin) to make the ploy convincing. The faked film production, dubbed Argo, is meticulously prepared, but will it work?

Argo represents another turning point in actor-director’s long and strange career. To 90s audiences, he was Matt Damon’s best friend, a View Askiewniverse stalwart, and the co-writer of Good Will Hunting. At the turn of the century, he was a failed lead actor, half of an annoying supercouple with Jennifer Lopez, and a perpetual punchline. But ever since his somber turn as George Reeves in 2006’s Hollywoodland, Affleck has been clawing his way back to respectability. His previous two directorial efforts, Gone Baby Gone and The Town, were well-crafted and well-regarded. Argo continues in that vein and arguably stands as Affleck’s best work, behind or in front of the camera, to date.

Of course, it helps that he had great material to work with. Argo’s based-in-reality premise comes from books by Mendez and Joshuah Bearman, which in turn stem from declassified intelligence documents. Despite the verifiable pedigree, the plot seems tailor-made for a movie. And though Affleck took some flack for downplaying Canadian contributions to the rescue mission, he otherwise hews close to history in matters both small (oversized glasses and crazy facial hair) and large (Carter’s failed diplomacy and palpable revolutionary rage in the streets of Iran).

However, it isn’t the period detail that makes Argo memorable; it’s the film’s ability to juggle moods and tones. When it is doing Hollywood satire, it is fitfully funny and generally spot-on. Added amusement comes in the form of the movie-within-a-movie’s low-budget exploitation of the Star Wars craze. On the other hand, Argo never loses sight of its origins as a political thriller. Even though the outcome is a foregone conclusion, the final mad dash to get the Americans home safely is nail-bitingly tense.

These genre shifts are made possible by a top-notch cast. Affleck is low-key but effective in the lead, playing Mendez as calm, confident, and capable, but also pressed by the nature of his work. Bryan Cranston, as his CIA boss, brings both the ruthless intensity of Walter White and the amiable attaboy-ism of Hal (his two best-known roles) to the part. The washed-up, foul-mouthed Siegel is certainly a bit caricaturized, but Arkin is genuinely funny and a good fit; watch as he out-negotiates a fellow producer with aplomb.

In an era when “political movie” has become synonymous with turgid, obvious, heavy-handed filmmaking, Argo is a breath of fresh air. It may dabble in familiarity in places, but more times than not, it defies expectations and never loses sight of its convictions.

8.5/10

Train Dreams

At the turn of the 20^th century, day laborer Robert Grainier lays down railroad track to support his wife and infant daughter. When he loses them to a tragic fire, he becomes adrift in the American west, burying himself in back-breaking work and meeting all manner of strange folks while the country changes before him.

Denis Johnson was a poet before he turned to fiction writing, and his work never lets you forget that. At its best, Johnson’s writing is bold, vibrant, and strange, full of powerful, jagged details that create texture and push the emotional envelope. At its worst, it is plotless, puffed-up prose that frustrates and alienates. Fortunately Train Dreams is far closer to the former than the latter.

The 2011 novella (expanded from an earlier short story) is a lean 128 pages, but it is not light reading. Through striking landscape descriptions, Johnson creates a setting – the rugged, merciless Northwest – that casts a long shadow over the proceedings. As mankind works hard to tame it, nature finds a way to fight back: through logging accidents, fires, harsh winters, and more. Johnson also imbues the story with a strong sense of mythology. It begins with an alleged curse cast by an ill-fated Chinese laborer, and it very nearly ends with a feral wolf-child appearing in Grainier’s midst.

Of course, there is more to Train Dreams than mere theatrics. Though Grainier is intentionally drawn as a bit of an everyman, he is not an empty vessel. His past as an orphan and, later, a widower, make him every bit the ideal human counterpart to his unyielding surroundings. And though his life is ultimately a sad one, there is a certain admirable dignity in the way he carries his grief. Incidentally, this makes him the perfect foil for the more outrageous characters (i.e. a man who was shot by his dog).

If there is one aspect of Train Dreams that misses the mark, it is the novella’s structure. The disjointed nature and frequent time skips do evoke a dream-like quality, but they also take us out of the narrative just when we’re starting to become immersed. Further, by skipping over the (SPOILER ALERT) last years of Grainier’s life, Johnson undermines his own protagonist. Plotting has never been the author’s strong suit, and while it isn’t as bad here as it was in prior works, Johnson still struggles to make his evocative set pieces more than the sum of their parts.

Occasional narrative derailment (pun intended) aside, Train Dreams makes for an appropriate late-October read. It will haunt you, in a good way.

8.25/10 

A Separation

Nader (Peyman Moaadi) and Simin (Leila Hatami) are a well-off couple living with their daughter Termeh (Sarina Farhadi, the director’s daughter) in Tehran. Their marriage crumbles when Simin wishes to leave Iran but Nader refuses to join her so that he may stay and care with his Alzheimer’s patient father. After Simin leaves, Nader hires Razieh (Sareh Bayat), a devoutly religious, lower-class (and, unbeknownst to Nader, pregnant) woman to perform housework. A dispute between Nader and Razieh over Nader’s father’s care turns ugly, and the confrontation leads to tragic consequences for everyone involved.

The Best Foreign Language Oscar winner in 2012, Asghar Farhadi’s acclaimed film does its best to earn its lofty reputation. A Sepration’s biggest virtue, by far, is its moral complexity. No one’s hands are clean here, nor is anyone entirely to blame. Nader is motivated by filial duty, Simin by a desire to provide a better life for her family, Razieh by financial desperation, and Hodjat, Razieh’s hot-tempered husband, by mental instability. Amid this ambiguity, the closest thing to a true villain in the film is the Iranian judicial bureaucracy: a judge does not even raise his voice even when levying the most serious of charges. Given its critique of Iranian society, it’s surprising this film made it past the government censors.

A Separation’s premise is matched by its craftsmanship. The actors deliver impassioned performances, and the cinematography oozes realism (the film was shot with a handheld camera). Of course, that realism is not without its drawbacks. The conspicuous absence of music puts all of the viewer’s attention on the dialogue, which deadens the pace at times. Nevertheless, the all-around quality makes many contemporary films seem artificial and trite.

Though American viewers may feel tempted to put a great deal of distance between themselves and the world of this film, A Separation’s underlying message – life is full of difficult choices – is universal.

8.5/10

Footnote

Eliezer Shkolnik (Shlomo Bar Aba) is a stubborn, meticulous, misanthropic philologist who painstakingly studies the Jerusalem Talmud. He lives in the shadow of his son, Uriel (Lior Ashkenazi), a charismatic, ambitious pop-Talmud scholar at the same university. When Eliezer is mistakenly awarded a prize intended for Uriel, a son’s dedication to his father is put to the test.

Fittingly for a film about Talmudic study, Footnote starts with a premise that would give many rabbis fits: is it permissible to lie if your lie causes a good deed (in this case, restoring an old man’s dignity)? Despite this and other ethical imbroglios, Footnote often plays like a Coenesque quirky comedy. Poor Eliezer has all the social graces of Larry David while Uriel’s attempt to secretly award his prize to his father is thwarted at every turn. Though director Joseph Cedar’s use of music and visual cut-aways is bombastic at times, his dramatization of what is essentially a clerical error is surprisingly effective.

Occupying the gray space between comedy and tragedy, Footnote is earnest, endearing, and aside from its ambiguous ending, quite satisfying.

8/10

Words Like Loaded Pistols

In this history of rhetoric, Sam Leith traces the art of speaking persuasively from its beginnings in ancient Greece to its usage in the modern political arena. He discusses five parts and three branches of rhetoric and highlights “Champions of Rhetoric” such as Cicero and Abraham Lincoln.

Words Like Loaded Pistols opens with a Simpsons quote. It’s an appropriate move on Leith’s part, for the book, like that show, is irreverent, sarcastic, and ultimately quite insightful. Make no mistake about it: Leith knows his stuff. He adorns his prose with dollops of Greco-Roman terminology, and he is able to dissect famous speeches with nearly clinical precision. Moreover, he shows a keen understanding of the circumstances that created not only great speeches, but great speakers and, arguably, rhetoric itself.

But for all its sophistication, this is still a book aimed at a general audience, and its author is still a first-rate smart-ass. Leith makes copious use of footnotes, many of which are humorous (He can’t help but chuckle triumphantly, for instance, at a handbook on gestures). There are also numerous pop culture references, and, refreshingly for a book so rooted in classic tradition, relevance to the modern age. For instance, the “anti-rhetoric” embraced by Sarah Palin is contrasted with the unabashed championing of rhetoric by Barack Obama.

Erudite and eccentric, Words Like Loaded Pistols can be demanding at times. But it’s a must for anyone fascinated by the power of language.

8.75/10

Lawless

In Prohibition-era Virginia, bootlegging brothers Forrest (Tom Hardy), Howard (Jason Clarke), and Jack (Shia LaBeouf) Bondurant are legendary for their toughness and the quality of their moonshine. When they refuse to give in to a corrupt new district attorney’s attempt to tax them, ruthless special deputy Charlie Rakes (Guy Pearce) is brought in from Chicago to shut them down. Against this conflict, enterprising Jack court’s a preacher’s daughter (Mia Wasikowska) and Forrest takes on Maggie (Jessica Chastain), a former dancer looking to escape her past, as a waitress.

Lawless is based on The Wettest County in the World by Matt Bondurant (grandson/grand-nephew of the protagonists), a book noted for its lyrical descriptions of backcountry violence. As far as that goes, the material could not have found a better match than director John Hillcoat and screenwriter/composer Nick Cave. The duo that captured the brutality of the Australian Outback so memorably in The Proposition does the same for the Virginia foothills here. The bluegrass soundtrack, most of the accents (impressive, given the predominately Austro/English cast), and especially the distrust/contempt for the law and acceptance of violence as a way of life all lend a strong sense of place, time, and texture to the on-screen presentation.

This stylistic sharpness serves to uplift what is otherwise a decidedly average film. Hardy is in great form as Forrest, a laconic war veteran who balks at change and packs a mean punch. But LaBeouf, looking like a second-rate imitation of Joseph Gordon-Levitt, is decidedly irksome as Jack, an ambitious whelp who manages to put everyone around him in danger (not good qualities for the film’s narrator and main character). Chastain feels wasted as a one-note “hooker with a heart of gold” archetype as does Gary Oldman, who briefly stops by to chew scenery as city gangster Floyd Banner. Pearce, on the other hand, pulls off quite the villainous turn as Rakes, a despicable dandy who will stop at nothing to get his way. However, the character’s malevolence often reaches outright absurd proportions, and one can’t help but wonder if the producers felt this exaggeration necessary to gather audience sympathy for the violent, law-breaking hillbillies that he opposes.

While it is unfortunate that Lawless’ inner workings can’t match the strength of its outer shell, the blend of bloody and beautiful is a draw all its own.

7.75/10

Captain's Galley Seafood Shack (CLOSED)

NOTE: Captains' Galley has since closed. A Krispy Kreme currently stands in its location.


Located at 3706 High Point Road (and with additional locations in Concord and China Grove), Captain’s Galley Seafood Shack offers broiled and fried fish and seafood dishes, steaks, salads, sandwiches, and more. There is a full-service bar, outdoor seating, and daily specials.

Captain’s Galley doesn’t merely remind you that the house specialty is seafood inasmuch as it bludgeons you over the head with this fact. The blue-and-white checked tablecloths are adorned with anchors, the windows resemble large portholes, and nautical paraphernalia graces the wall. This lack of subtly extends to the food as well. The Fisherman’s Platter – a fried seafood combo – came with almost everything dumped unappealingly on a plate.

Fortunately, for the most part, the food didn’t taste as bad as it looked. I had a craving for popcorn shrimp and these hit the spot. The complimentary hush puppies were crisp and tasty. The fried fish (white pollock) was a little bland, but it thankfully wasn’t dried out. On the other hand, the deviled crab was unremarkable, and the overly chewy clam strips were among the worst I’ve ever had.

After “nautical,” the word that best sums up Captain’s Galley is “big.” The restaurant is a large space with ample seating and different seating areas to accommodate one’s wishes (outside, back booth, seat at the bar, etc.). The menu is impressively large, too. As is expected for an establishment of this type, you can find several kinds of seafood (shrimp, crab, clams, oysters, and scallops) and fish (tilapia, pollock, catfish, and flounder) prepared several different ways (boiled or fried with different seasonings). There is also a decent assortment of land fare, including steaks, salads, chicken, sandwiches, and pasta. This is a place that truly tries to offer something for everyone.

To round out the picture, servers were friendly and attentive and prices were reasonable. My combo platter ran $12.95, a good value for the amount of food. Opting for crab legs will cost you more, but you can eat well here for $10 or less.

Captain’s Galley’s maritime kitsch isn’t without its charm, and there is enough on the menu to merit another look, but the food is too inconsistent to make it a sure (or is that shore?) bet.

6.5/10

The Expendables 2

CIA operative Church (Bruce Willis) coerces Barney Ross (Sylvester Stallone) and his team of mercenaries into retrieving a mysterious item from a downed airplane. Ross begrudgingly takes computer expert Maggie (Yu Nan) along for the ride. Though the item is recovered successfully, the team is ambushed by terrorist Jean Vilain (Jean-Claude Van Damme), who plans to use it to build and sell nuclear weapons. Now it is up to the Expendables to stop Villain and avenge the loss of one of their own.

The first Expendables, released two years ago, was a dream project of sorts for its stars. It brought together 80s action icons Stallone, Willis, and Arnold Schwarzenegger (albeit in cameos only, for the latter two) with their 90s counterparts Jet Li, Jason Statham, and Steve Austin. Though saddled with a contrived plot and subpar acting, a referential script made it an entertaining homage. For the sequel, everything is cranked up to eleven. The Expendables 2 is both simultaneously a big, dumb, loud action movie and a definitive postmodern treatise on big, dumb, loud action movies everywhere.

To start, the sequel makes several improvements in the talent department. Simon West replaces Stallone in the director’s chair, and Austin, Eric Roberts, and Mickey Rourke (the only true loss here) are gone. In their place are Van Damme, more screen time for Willis and Schwarzenegger, and Chuck Norris. Van Damme’s cold, menacing Vilain is a clear upgrade over Roberts’ hammy antagonist, and though the climactic JVD-Sly fight is marred by overly obvious editing techniques, it still hits a satisfying note. Willis and Schwarzenegger seem to be having fun here. They mock each other’s trademark lines (“I’ll be back/Yipee kay yay.”) and, as per the trailer, go on a destructive rampage in what appears to be a Smart Car. Norris’ screentime is brief, but as is befitting a man of his inflated stature, he racks up an impressively high body count, performs several improbable feats, and nearly steals the damn show.

The real extent to which this is art and not just entertaining trash, however, is the deliberate blurring between film and reality. Early on in the film, Stallone and Statham are shown up by the team’s latest recruit, ex-Army sniper Billy the Kid (Liam Hemsworth), a younger, fitter man who leaves them pondering their own vitality. So to it must be for the 40 to 60-somethings in the film’s cast: how much longer can they be credible ass-kickers before their age becomes staggeringly apparent? At other times, the interplay between fact and fiction is done for laughs. Dolph Lundgren’s chemical engineering background is grafted onto his psychotic character Gunnar, and Norris’ character is nicknamed “The Lone Wolf” (as in McQuade). The filmmakers went all out to show action fans everywhere that this film was not just for them; it was born of the mythology they hold dear.

And yet, a few factors stop this from being truly “good.” Just as in the first film, the plot is patently ridiculous, perhaps even more so this time around. The acting, even in Rourke’s absence, has a few flourishes (i.e. Billy’s Afghanistan story), but remains uneven at best, and some of Stallone and Schwarzenegger’s one-liners are painfully bad. The ending sets up nicely for another sequel, but it also lends a sense of pointlessness to the proceedings.

Whether you are a casual action fan or a diehard devotee of the genre, The Expendables 2 offers a treasure trove of explosions, gunfire, hand-to-hand combat, decapitations, and other assorted violence. But it also offers a sly (pun not intended) look at how action stars approach their legacy and their place in a changing world. That takes some of the guilt out of what would otherwise be a guilty pleasure.

7.5/10

The Bobby Gold Stories

Fresh out of prison (where he earned a fearsome reputation), Bobby Gold (nee Goldstein) reluctantly goes to work as an enforcer for his childhood friend, small-time gangster Eddie. Bobby wants another life for himself, but loyalty and limited options stand in his path. Could Nikki, a sassy chef in the club Eddie owns, be the answer?

Anthony Bourdain is best known as a bon vivant in the culinary world, but he has written fiction before. In fact, 2001’s The Bobby Gold Stories represents his third book of fiction. You wouldn’t know that from reading it though. A raw, clipped narrative, it reads like the work of a new author struggling to find his bearings.

This isn’t to say that Bourdain is a terrible writer per say. An experienced world traveler, he shows a great eye for local color. Whether it’s a busy restaurant kitchen, the New York club scene, or an exotic Asian locale, the settings are brought to life in vibrant, bustling detail. The dialogue is colorful as well and funny at times, though not as consistently successful. While the banter is snappy, its exaggerated profanity seems inauthentic, and there are some laughably bad lines (“He’s not one of us! He’s not a cook!”) along the way.

Perhaps the dialogue would be easier to appreciate if we were given some reason to care about the characters. We aren’t, though, and we are left feeling like we’ve seen them all before. Bobby’s “tough guy with a heart” shtick is old, Nikki’s instant attraction to him is conveniently contrived, no reason is given for the repulsive Eddie being able to hold onto power as long as he has, and the Mafiosi behind it all are walking clichés.

Having predictable characters naturally leads to predictable plotting. While there is no dead weight here, there is also nothing to grip us and no sense of surprise. The novel is presented as a series of short, breezy third-person vignettes that ultimately don’t add up to much. Obviously, Bobby can’t just make changes to his life; that would be too easy. No, in Bourdain’s world, such change has to come from without: a police tip, an encouraging girlfriend, some “missing” money, etc. James Sallis tackled many of these same themes and plot devices in Drive, but he was able to wring a lot more resonance out of a spare style and a familiar narrative.

As a quick read, The Bobby Gold Stories is a page-turner that is just passable enough to not put down. Try as he may to serve up something hard-boiled besides eggs, it is clear from reading this that Bourdain should stick to the kitchen.

5.75/10

The Dark Knight Rises

In the eight years since Batman took the fall for Harvey Dent’s vigilante murders, crime in Gotham City plummeted, and the Caped Crusader’s alter ego, Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale), has lived as a nearly crippled recluse. But when a mysterious masked terrorist called Bane (Tom Hardy) sets his sights on Gotham, Bruce feels compelled to don the cape once more. He is assisted, reluctantly, by his butler/surrogate father, Alfred (Michael Caine), armorer Lucius Fox (Morgan Freeman), police commissioner Jim Gordon (Gary Oldman), and a hard-charging rookie cop, John Blake (Joseph Gordon-Levitt). He also finds himself drawn to two women: influential investor Miranda Tate (Marion Cotillard) and savvy cat burglar Selina Kyle (Anne Hathaway).

Director Christopher Nolan really put himself in a tough position. So impressive, memorable, and acclaimed was 2008’s The Dark Knight that its sequel seemed destined to suffer in comparison. And while 2012’s The Dark Knight Rises is a step down, it is also arguably as good a film as could have been made given the burden of expectations.

Much like its predecessors, The Dark Knight Rises looks and sounds great. Pittsburgh, not Chicago, doubles for Gotham this go-around, but that’s hardly a strike against it. Wally Pfister’s cinematography, whether in the city or in a hellish third-world prison, is as striking as ever. Hans Zimmer (working without previous collaborator James Newton Howard) churns out another score with gravitas although this one can’t help but feel slightly subdued.

Also like the other entries in the series, there is a lot more to this movie than gadgetry and action sequences. The theme, this time, is pain. Everyone in this movie suffers, often both spiritually as well as physically and frequently, unpleasantly. It is the reaction to that pain that sets the heroes apart from the villains. One man’s excuse is another man’s cross to bear.

Given Heath Ledger’s virtuoso rendition of the Joker, this film was destined to suffer from a less memorable villain, but this isn’t due to Hardy’s lack of trying. His portrayal of Bane distills what made the comic book version a great foe: he is both a physical (anyone familiar with the “Knightfall” arc should know what to expect here) and intellectual (cunning, manipulative, and tactically brilliant, unlike the mindless thug of Batman and Robin) threat. His booming, somewhat distorted, very British voice is a bit of a distraction, though.

Among secondary antagonists, the film tips its hat to the animated series and gives us corrupt executive/Wayne rival Dagget. He's oddly Europeanized here and given the first name of John. Like her comic book counterpart, Selina straddles the line between hero and villain. She isn’t given the name Catwoman here (nor even a token cat to own – they could have at least done this much), but otherwise, it’s hard to find fault with her performance. She’s tough, sassy, seductive, and, underneath the criminal veneer, not a bad person. Michelle Pfeiffer will always be Catwoman for me, but Hathaway is a worthy successor for the role. There are additional allies and enemies, but to reveal them would spoil some major plot twists. Let’s just say some people involved in the production were less than honest about who would and would not appear in this film.

Where the film suffers most is in its pacing and plotting. Whereas The Dark Knight never missed a beat, The Dark Knight Rises is a longer, more drawn out affair. The plot is complex and relies heavily on misdirection (as well as a prior knowledge of Batman Begins, not that they don’t give you plenty of flashbacks to remind you). While the conclusion it builds toward justifies a lot of the maneuvering, one couldn’t help but wonder if Nolan and his associates couldn’t have tightened things up a bit. Nevertheless, the last half-hour or so is wickedly intense and gripping. True to form for Nolan, the film throws us a (somewhat predictable but still satisfying) curveball at the end.

Supposedly, The Dark Knight Rises is the last Batman film Nolan will make. Given his penchant for pulling the rug out from under us, I don’t fully believe that. However, if this is truly it, then it’s a fitting conclusion: it cements (quite literally) Batman’s legacy as Gotham’s protector, allows Bruce to pacify some inner demons, and opens some doors in the process. It may not be the ending we want, but it’s the ending we need.

8.5/10

The Devil in the White City

It’s the 1890s, and America is looking to regain some glory after France wows the world with the Eifel Tower. When Chicago is selected as the site for the 1893 World’s Fair, it is up to enterprising architect Daniel Burnham to guide a massive workforce and some of America’s best and brightest minds as he races to meet a tight deadline. Meanwhile, H.H. Holmes, a physician and a sociopathic con man, senses an opportunity to increase his wealth and fuel is perversions.

Though it falls squarely in the nonfiction category, this 2003 offering by Erik Larson reads like a novel. Sometimes, that ends up being a liability: the heavy hand of dramatization can be felt on more than one occasion. But more often than not, it works to the book’s advantage. Even though this is settled history, there is a genuine sense of wonder as massive structure after massive structure is designed and erected (check the stats for the original Ferris Wheel) and a genuine sense of tension as Burnham and his collaborators battle big egos, political in-fighting, and the elements to finish on-time. That Larson conveys the human toll (injuries and all) without piercing the veil of majesty about the event is quite an accomplishment.

Of course, the fair is literally only half the story. Larson alternates the progress of the fair with sordid tales from the life of Holmes (as well as occasional snippets from the point of view of mad mayoral assassin Patrick Prendergast). That he avoids graphic detail and leaves much to the imagination makes the murderous doctor all the more chilling. The sheer extent of his manipulation (to say nothing of the number of young women he likely did away with) puts him in comic book super villain territory and makes you wonder how he got away with it for so long. Alas, this is a case of reality being unrealistic and not an exaggeration on Larson’s part: it was only dumb luck (arrest on an unrelated horse theft) that Holmes was caught at all.

The Devil in the White City is rife with names, from Buffalo Bill Cody to a young Frank Lloyd Wright, who helped shape America. It might feel like overkill at times (and, in Louis Sullivan’s case, it might feel like an authorial vendetta), but if nothing else, Larson succeeds in capturing the wonder and the horror of an event that ultimately changed the world.

8.75/10

The Greensboro Dining Guide

In the nearly three years since I started this blog, I’ve reviewed more than three dozen local restaurants. Some have closed, and others have given me reason to reconsider my initial perceptions, but many have, for better or worse, remained as I discovered them. Plenty others remain undiscovered still. Even in economically turbulent times, Greensboro is a treasure trove of dining options. There are scores of restaurants, bars, and coffee shops to suit a wide variety of palates and price ranges. And while choice is often a godsend, it can make Herculean tasks out of simple decisions. “Where do I want to eat?” can be a vexing question to answer when a dozen possibilities are a stone’s throw away. So to cut down the anguish of such a decision, I’ve prepared a “Best of” for those establishments that I’ve had the privilege to review.

Please note that this covers only what I’ve had the opportunity to sample so far, and national chains are excluded. Reviews, when available, are linked. If there is an establishment that you feel merits inclusion on this list, let me know, and I’ll be glad to investigate it.

Enjoy!

Zac

Best Bar Food: Spring Garden Bar & Pizzeria. Combine a neighborhood bar atmosphere with restaurant-quality food, and you get this place. Italian favorites are homemade here, and it shows.

Best Burger: If you have the cash ($14) to splurge, Josephine's Bistro's lamb and beef burger is unbeatable, but for the more budget-minded, Ham’s classic cheeseburger (nee Charlie’s burger) packs a lot of flavor for little price ($2.99 on Tuesdays).

Best Caribbean (review pending): Da Reggae Café. The portions are almost too large to down in one sitting, but with Jamaican favorites and plentiful sides, that’s hardly a bad thing.

Best Chinese (review pending): China Best. This no-frills, takeout-only eatery isn’t gourmet, but it is several steps up from its bland, generic competitors.

Best Coffeeshop: Coffeeology. Plentiful beverage choices, all-day waffles and crepes, and homemade gelato make this a must. For College Hill residents, this doubles as a convenient meeting spot. 

Best Fine Dining: Print Works Bistro. Combine a bright, airy atmosphere with an inventive, expertly crafted menu and pricing that isn’t exorbitant, and you’re left with the Proximity Hotel’s star eatery, a great place to celebrate a big occasion with a great meal. Print Works' sister establishments, Green Valley Grill and Lucky 32 Southern Kitchen, are excellent in their own right, too.

Best Greek (review pending): Mythos Grill. Don’t let the Spartan (pun intended) interior fool you: this place can do a mean gyro.

Best Indian (review pending): Saffron. I’ve only ever sampled their lunch buffet, but it’s a cut above what you’d expect, and a decent value, to boot.

Best Italian: Villa Rosa Italian Restaurant & Grill. You can’t go wrong with this classic Southern Italian eatery. The expansive menu is well-stocked with familiar favorites, and the execution is flawless.

Best Mexican: Kiosco Mexican Grill. Combine a huge menu with friendly service and a kitchen that knows how to season, and your tastebuds will be doing a fiesta. Variable portion sizes are an added plus.

Best Pizza: Sticks & Stones Clay Oven Pizza. While Mellow Mushroom boasts a superior crust, Sticks and Stones takes fresh, local ingredients and artfully arranges them into unique combinations. Potatoes, fried chicken, eggplant, and Swiss chard are among the tasty toppings that have shown up in their pies.

Best Salad: The Scott Avenue. Available at the Lindley ParkFilling Station, this comes with a crabcake, bacon, cucumbers, and roasted red peppers served on a bed of spinach and topped with buttermilk chive dressing. What’s not to like? Even the pricetag ($9.50 for an entrée salad) is palatable.

Best Sandwich: Old Town Meatloaf. A specialty of UNCG’s OldTown Draught House, the homemade loaf on a sourdough roll is melt-in-your-mouth good.

Best Sushi: Sushi Republic. The wide assortment of specialty rolls and elegant yet unfussy atmosphere make this one republic you’ll want to pledge allegiance to. For fresh, flavorful fish, look no further.

Best Taco: Taqueria El Azteca, hands down. The authentic-style pastor (marinated pork) is murderously addictive, but you can get a variety of fillings and Tex-Mex style if cilantro isn’t your thing. They go for $1 a piece on Tuesdays and Thursdays, or you can get them full price from the taco truck on Spring Garden and Chapman at well into the dark of night.

Best Thai: Thai Corner Kitchen. This was a tough call, as Greensboro has plenty of quality Thai cuisine. An expansive menu, helpful servers, and the availability of Groupon/LivingSocial coupons set this High Point Road establishment apart.

Best Vegetarian: Boba House. No meat doesn’t mean no flavor. The Asian-infused salads and entrees of this Tate Street stalwart are tofuriffic for meat-eaters and vegetarians alike.

Best Vietnamese: Pho Hien Vuong. While several other establishments can give Pho Hien Vuong a run for its money in the flavor department, the ambiance, menu variety (they do Thai here too), and food quality offer a winning combination. Now if only it had a bigger parking lot.

Best of the Rest: Don offers a decorative atmosphere and affordable Japanese of the non-sushi variety. Rice and noodle bowls are served sizzling hot with complimentary miso.  Cleopatra’s is home to skillfully prepared Middle Eastern fare (think shwarma aplenty). Toshi’s Café (review pending), in Adams Farm, offers an eclectic blend of sushi, sandwiches, coffee drinks, and breakfast food. Want to mix and match ingredients? Give Zali Mongolian Grill a try. They have everything from seafood and veggies to tacos and frogs legs. 

The Amazing Spider-Man

Teenaged Peter Parker (Andrew Garfield) is a brilliant but troubled outsider who struggles with his parents abandoning him at a young age. His Uncle Ben (Martin Sheen) leads Peter to his father’s former research partner, one-armed Oscorp geneticist Curt Connors (Rhys Ifans). After sneaking off from an Oscorp tour group led by his classmate Gwen Stacy (Emma Stone), Peter wanders into a testing area and is bitten by a genetically modified spider. The spider bite gives Peter extraordinary powers, but with great power comes great responsibility.

It took years for Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man to come to the big screen, so it’s not surprising that this film, directed by the impossibly aptly named Marc Webb, had a rocky production history as well. Initially conceived of as the fourth entry in the ongoing series, it ended up being a complete reboot after Raimi left the project. Given the age (only ten years old) and the quality (solid, despite moments of cheesiness) of the Raimi film, the first question that The Amazing Spider -Man raises is “why?” The easy answer, of course, is money: Spidey is an iconic character, and a new film means a marketing bonanza. But there are deeper reasons that, while not quite rendering the film necessary, at least justify its existence.

First, we need only consider the direction that superhero films have taken in recent years. Both Christopher Nolan’s Batman films and the works that makeup the Marvel Cinematic Universe had taken on an edgy, irreverent, snappily comedic bent. The previous Spider-Man series - and the third film’s tendency to wallow in angst in particular – did not fare well in comparison. The new film, while still quite reserved in some regards, at least represents a tonal shift.

Next, much like the Ultimate universe did for the comics, this film has the opportunity to introduce the character to a new audience. When last we saw him, Tobey Maguire’s Peter Parker had already settled into a career as a crime-fighter and gained a degree of self-assurance. Garfield’s portrayal returns Peter to his lonely science nerd roots, thereby making him an underdog that a new (read: young) audience can more easily identify with. The film also gives us a break from the exhaustive crush-on-Mary-Jane-who-is-later-kidnapped formula (poor Kirsten Dunst) by swapping her out for Gwen, who proves to be a more formidable character (and who came first in the comics anyway).

So the rationale is in place, but how about the execution? Amazing has more than a few things going for it. We get an eyeful of breathtaking city scenery as Spiderman zips from tall place to tall place. The action sequences are competently filmed, and the Lizard (Connors’ villainous alter ego), while a somewhat uninspired foe, at least did not come out looking ridiculous.

The acting also seemed quite earnest this go-around. Garfield successfully brings out all of Peter’s flaws and complexities: the sarcastic quips, the feverish dedication, and the complete lack of social graces (something that he arguably overdoes – the constant stammering around Gwen grows tiresome eventually). Stone and Ifans more than pull their weight, but it is a pair of father figures who practically steal the film. Sheen transforms Uncle Ben from a rather flat good-guy mentor/martyr to a deeply moral man who struggles with the hand (surrogate parent to a kid a lot smarter than he is) that life dealt him. Similarly, Dennis Leary takes the role of police captain George Stacy (Gwen’s dad) and elevates it considerably. Stacy is usually depicted as a benevolent, competent veteran who supports Spiderman’s crimesolving endeavors. Leary maintains the competence, shaves some years off the character’s age, makes the role more physical, and seasons it with his trademark sarcastic bite.

But while there is a lot to like here, the film is not without its faults. While the Spiderman of the comics took decades to unmask, this one can’t seem to keep his mask on for more than a few minutes at a time. Then again, given how silly the costume looks here, it’s hard to blame him. Further demerits go to squandering Sally Field as Aunt May. While the filmmakers get credit for changing up the normal portrayal, they don’t give her enough to do. This woman is supposed to be the source of Peter’s inner strength.

For a movie that did not need to be made, The Amazing Spider-Man acquits itself well on most counts. But while the myriad changes and tweaks freshen a familiar tale, it doesn’t really resonate. The film is good, yes, but hardly amazing.

7.75/10

F for Fake

Directed, written, and narrated by Orson Welles, this 1974 pseudo-documentary studies the nature of authenticity by looking at people known for deception. Subjects include renowned art forger Elmyer de Hory, his biographer (and the author of a fraudulent biography of Howard Hughes) Clifford Irving, Welles’ companion Oja Kodar, and, ultimately, Welles himself.

The last completed Welles film, F for Fake is less a documentary than it is a visual essay on authenticity, credibility, authorship, and artistic values. At its best, it is clever, amusing, and incisive. At its worst, it is self-indulgent, pretentious, and incoherent. And if it seems like it should be two films, that’s because it really is. The project began with a straightforward documentary of de Hory by Francois Reichenbach, which Welles then expanded and put his creative stamp on. Whether this would have fared better in its original format depends on your preferences, but it certainly would have been less interesting.

What stands out most here is the film’s style. Welles and collaborator Gary Graver did a masterful job of editing, weaving the interview segments, historical images, and a jazzy Michel Legrand score into a kinetic, fluid whirr. Though the film preceded the MTV generation, it seems right at home with more contemporary efforts.

In terms of content, the film boasts a quirky cast of characters. De Hory comes across as sagacious and likeable as he and Welles exchange some well-deserved shots at the art establishment (The former at one point boasts that he never offered a forged painting to a museum that didn’t buy it). Irving, who writes off de Hory as delusional, seems as smarmy as he does skeptical. Interestingly, Welles constantly reminds us of his own inauthenticity: he opens the film by performing magic tricks, and he harkens back to his War of the Worlds days by recreating his faux news broadcast of an alien invasion.

The film decisively jumps off the rails at the one hour mark, after which Welles relinquishes any claim to the events being true. Kodar features heavily in these final segments, and she’s often shown in a needlessly voyeuristic light (one piece has Pablo Picasso lusting after her from afar). This last third begins amusingly, but it eventually becomes overwhelmingly bizarre and indifferent to the concerns of the audience. It was as if Welles grew bored with the film he was making and decided to shoot some esoteric exchanges with his girlfriend instead.

Thankfully, for as jarring as these end parts are, they do not sink the film as a whole. If you are willing to forgo a traditional narrative, F for Fake will reward you with its quirks, perceptiveness, and technical prowess, and that is the truth.

8/10