Failing to finish off the bad guy

Spoiler alert ... though for which movies, I probably can't say without that itself being a spoiler. Um, I guess you've been warned. They're fairly prominent movies though. 

When I think of movies that frustrate me because the good guy(s) didn't take their golden opportunity to finish off the bad guy(s), the first one that usually comes to mind is Pan's Labyrinth. When Mercedes gains her advantage over Captain Vidal, some additional plunges with her knife would have made quick work of him. Instead, she just cuts out the side of his mouth to give him an extra clownish leer, then runs off. I mean, the good guys are supposed to be defined in part by their mercy, but damn, kill that guy.

It comes back to haunt her, of course, as Captain Vidal (SPOILER) ends up fatally shooting Ofelia.

Last night I added another movie to that list, though it was a movie I had already seen once before. A movie that most people don't even want to see once, let alone twice.

There are a lot of things a person could discuss about The Human Centipede (First Sequence), some of which I talked about here. The most interesting and gross stuff will probably be left on the cutting room floor today. Instead, I want to talk about their failure to finish off the bad guy. (Is a human centipede a "they" or an "it"?)

It's a similar situation to Mercedes in Pan's. In fact, the size of the implement is even about the same, if I remember correctly -- a scalpel or an exacto knife. The Japanese man who fronts the 'pede gets and hides the knife until the maniacal surgeon has his back turned. He then stabs the man in the foot and in the leg before almost totally incapacitating him by taking a large bite out of his neck. He then summons his inner coach and marches the two women surgically fused to him up a spiral staircase toward their hopeful exit from the house.

Why not just pull that scalpel back out of the surgeon's leg and, I don't know, plunge it repeatedly into his eyes and neck?

Having not delivered the surgeon a fatal blow, they've of course left him to pursue them only a minute or two later. And although he doesn't kill either of the segments of the centipede that die -- the Japanese man at least takes the power for himself by killing himself, while the back woman dies of infection and malnourishment -- he does prevent their escape, which certainly prompts the Japanese man to give up hope. (His sudden realization of his own culpability in this punishment for leading a wayward life is a really impressive sequence.)

It doesn't detract from the movie, just as Mercedes' half measure doesn't detract from Pan's Labyrinth. But really. Finish the deed, man.

I thought I'd try to give you a half dozen other examples of movies where the good guy failed to deliver the decisive blow, but to be honest, I have a busy day today, and I haven't posted for nearly a week, so I just need to get this thing up. (Start of the baseball season has lots of demands on my time -- a topic for another day, or maybe not.)

And as for The Human Centipede ... what can I say, I love this movie. There are certainly diminish returns in the sequels, and the third one falls off the table into total repugnance. But not only is this one smartly considered and paced, but it's well shot and even well acted. The first time I watched it I felt the performance of the women in the opening scenes was a bit distracting in its quality, but this time I felt totally differently. Tey just behave like young tourists without great street smarts would behave, and I totally buy it.

Also, it's not easy to spend the largest portion of a movie with your mouth grafted to somebody else's butt, whimpering. Their constant stream of desperate crying is not only one of this film's most believable elements, it's also not easy to pull off. So props to them on that.

Cat's Away: Saturday blitzkrieg

This is the fifth post recounting the movies I'm watching while my wife is overseas for ten days. 

Any time I have my Saturday all to myself to watch a marathon of movies, which happens approximately once a year and usually when I'm staying over at a hotel for the express purpose, I go through a predictable series of phases.

The first is overwhelming excitement and optimism, which lasts the entirety of my first movie. That's part of the reason I like to keep the first movie light. During this phase you imagine you might somehow squeeze in ten different movies that day. The sky's the limit. At the very least, five should be possible.

The second comes during the second movie, when you are taken hold by the sedentary nature of the experience and the realization you have the luxury to just close your eyes for a bit without any children needing anything from you. This is when a nap that's possibly as long as two hours transpires. Then, when you wake up with 30 minutes still to go in the movie and already encroaching on your evening viewing slots, a sort of panic sets in. You then realize that no more than four movies will be possible and you immediately regret the choice of movie you've just made. Do you even have to finish it?

The third movie comes during dinner and this is usually the prestige slot. Something really good you're revisiting, most likely. Something with a guarantee of satisfaction. You eat a good dinner (though are starting to feel a bit bloated from all the junk food you've already consumed) and restore a bit of the equanimity you lost during the nap and the realization that the total possibilities for the day are not, indeed, limitless.

The last movie is usually designed as a bit of a "midnight movie," and by this time you're struggling just to make it through. While you're probably enjoying it -- or not, since a midnight movie can go either way -- you are pretty ready when the time finally comes to close your eyes, probably sometime between one and two.

That was the shape my day did indeed take yesterday when my sister-in-law picked up my kids for an overnight at her house, leaving around 12:45, which would have given me even a bit longer than I usually have when I check in to a hotel. But I had two errands to run: to the library to return soon-to-be overdue books and movies (and to check out some more movies, one of which I actually ended up watching), and to the store to buy some junk food I didn't want to buy in the presence of my kids (else they'd ask why they couldn't have some). I got started at about 1:45, still on track to fit in five movies, even with 30-minute breaks between movies built in to do housework (and break up the routine).

But I ended up at only four, and that's because I had arrogantly believed my previous night's sleep would not come back to haunt me. I'll spare a few words here for that, to let you know why it was impossible it wouldn't. I got a late start to bed anyway, after 1 a.m., and shortly after that I was joined by my younger son -- this is a bad habit he's developed since my wife left. Sleeping with him is no picnic anyway -- he does this weird thing that I call "sleep running" -- but that sleep was shattered at 3 a.m. when the smoke detector started cheeping that its battery was dying. That took five minutes to deal with, involving a precarious stacking of chairs to get to our high hallway ceilings, and though it allowed me to deliver my son back to his bed, it did not allow me to return to sleep right away. I was awake another hour on my computer, and around 5:30 my younger one broke up my newly deep sleep by coming back to my bed, now ready to be awake for the day and imploring me to get up with him. He let me linger in the bed another 90 minutes, perhaps dozing off a bit himself during that time, but that period was also broken up by him asking me questions and being cute. We finally arose at 7.

So yeah, there was no way I wasn't going to take that two-hour nap.

Okay, should we finally talk movies? I'll go through them somewhat briefly in deference to the fact that a) I've already written a whole lot this morning on my procedure, which may be only of marginal interest to you and b) I need to get watching my Sunday morning movie before my kids return in a couple hours.

Hall Pass

If you remember from my post earlier in the week, Contact was the movie I originally had envisioned for this time slot. When I pushed that up to opening night, I replaced it with Hall Pass, the second-to-last movie I bought in this sale that I had yet to watch. (Hustle & Flow, I still have a future date with you). I chose it for a couple reasons. One was that the Saturday afternoon time slot is always good for a comedy -- something I'd temporarily forgotten when I targeted Contact -- but there are plenty of other comedies I could have chosen. I chose this one in part because I thought it was worth grappling again with how good the movie actually is. I like this movie more than anyone else I know, including my wife, who also does like it, but I think finds it fairly juvenile. Plus, the subject matter makes it one of those "Why are you watching this?" movies -- it's about a week off from marriage. Don't want my wife to think this topic interests me more than it actually does, which makes it a good movie to watch when she's not here. (When, in fact, I am sort of getting "a week off from marriage" with her out of town -- something I am not using to try to pick up chicks at Applebee's, I'll have you know.)

I nearly put this movie in my top ten of 2011, so observant did I find it and so capable of producing big laughs in various moments. A very necessary January 2012 rewatch before my list closed talked me down off that ledge, but I still ranked it #12 for the year. My first rewatch since then has further sobered me on the merits of this movie -- the Farrelly humor is indeed pretty juvenile -- but I still like it quite a bit. It was a good Saturday afternoon choice.

Megamind

This was a really random choice, something that was not in my considerations at all until I picked it up at the library earlier that day. (Though I daresay it's probably available on one of our streaming services as well.) It perfectly exemplifies the on-the-fly element I want Cat's Away to have, but it's my one possible regret from yesterday. The reasons I chose it were: 1) I'd always meant to see this -- "wanted" may be a bit too strong a word -- and I was enjoying keeping the "light" afternoon tone after Hall Pass; 2) It's short, and I was still trying to get in five movies at this point; 3) It was the only chance to have a "new to me" movie, and these Saturday marathons usually have at least one of those. When I realized it was too early to watch the movie I'd planned for the dinner slot, I decided something short would be perfect, which led to me discard other possible contenders City of God and Watchmen. Besides, neither of them would have kept the light tone.

Megamind was fine. I'd even say I liked it. In fact, when I was reminded that a comedic actor I love, Will Ferrell, does the voice of the title character, for a few moments it felt like an inspired, felicitous choice. But ultimately it hardly rose to the level of essential animation I have not seen, which I kind of knew was the case before I even started. It would have been totally fine if this were not the movie I interrupted with that two-hour nap I was powerless to stop. When I woke up at 7:45 with the aforementioned 30 minutes still remaining, which would push dinner to nearly 9 o'clock when you factor in the proscribed 30-minute break between movies, I wished I'd gone another direction. This choice ultimately doomed my original midnight movie choice, Spring Breakers, which will now have to wait for another occasion. Which is okay, since I have already seen Spring Breakers four times and it hasn't even existed for five years yet.

Pan's Labyrinth

And here was the prestige time slot movie that restored order. I targeted Guillermo del Toro's film because I'd loved it at the time (it was in my top ten of 2006) but still had seen it only that one time. I don't know what has held me back from a second viewing -- possibly the heavy subject matter, possibly just opportunity. In any case, I was overdue for a rewatch.

The film did not disappoint. The interesting thing I found as I was watching it was that I considered its fantastical elements, which are what have delivered the film to its classic status, kind of superfluous. I mean, it clearly would not be the same movie without the great creature effects we have come to associate with del Toro and his muse, Doug Jones (who is like the Andy Serkis of practical effects). And though I still found those effects wondrous, I find their narrative function somewhat dubious, and in fact am far more interested in the real-world elements of this film. Sergi Lopez' villain is one of the most hissable in modern cinema, and I felt freshly frustrated by an element of this film that bothers me (in a good way), wishing that Mercedes had just taken her advantage over him to kill him during that scene where she slices out the side of his mouth. I guess that still allows him to have his perfectly staged death scene later -- "No, he will not even know your name" -- but it also would have saved the life of the little girl.

One thing I noticed after the movie, when I was adding this to my list of rewatches on Letterboxd, was that I awarded this movie "only" four stars when I added it to Letterboxd. (Which would not have been at the time of its release, of course -- I think it would have been around early 2012.) In just five years I've kind of radically altered my conception of what constitutes a four-star movie. I probably would not give Pan's Labyrinth five stars, as it does not rise to the level of a personal favorite, but it surely would have been worth 4.5 today. Which I guess is only a half-star difference ... so that's not that bad I suppose.

Showgirls

And we finish with Showgirls.

This was also a film I've only seen once, but for different reasons. I'd been one of those ones who considered Showgirls an unmitigated disaster when I first saw it. But in the 22 years since its release there has been a small but determined segment of the movie-going populace who have reappraised this film as a work of comic and satirical genius. And so I decided I needed another viewing to watch it through that lens.

But I just didn't see it. I don't really think this movie's tongue is in its cheek, or if so, that aspect does not manifest itself in ways I found interesting. It really just seems tawdry for tawdry's sake, and has numerous moments where it doesn't get how silly something plays. That said, it's also not as bad as I remembered it. When I entered this film in Letterboxd, I gave it one star, probably just due to foggy memories of how awful it was, and to align my star rating with the general consensus of respected critics. But this movie might actually deserve 1.5 or even 2 stars. Its greatest sin is that it's pretty boring, even with a number of pretty steamy sex scenes (whether you are describing "sex" as actual intercourse, an intense lap dance or even just Elizabeth Berkley licking a stripper pole).

And let's talk about Berkley for a moment. Even though I think this movie has rightly thrust her into a kind of iconic status, leading to the idea that she's kind of "perfect" for the role, her performance in numerous spots leaves much to be desired. Whether this is a Paul Verhoeven issue or an Elizabeth Berkley issue is up for debate. I will say that there are a comical number of times when she seems to wildly overreact to something that's said to her, and I lost count of the number of times she stormed off from an interaction, her high heels clicking against asphalt.

Okay, you can go now.

Killing a baby dragon? Not cool.

Despite ample critical evidence that I should think otherwise, I was with Sucker Punch for at least its first half.

Then they had to kill that baby dragon.

Not just kill it -- slit its throat while it was asleep. Execution style.

Not cool, man.

This act of cruelty is part of the scavenger hunt that makes up most of the plot in both the first and second layers of the movie's fantasy world. (It's a little like Inception in terms of constructing its fantasy world in layers, but most would say the comparison ends there.) Our heroes, a quintet of girls imprisoned in a squalid mental institution, have to assemble a number of practical, real-world items in order to attempt an escape.

In the deepest layer of the fantasy, where the girls play valkyrie versions of themselves, these items also appear in a fantasy incarnation. They need to steal a Zippo from a client (the first layer of the fantasy has them working in a seedy bordello) in order to create the fire they'll use as a diversion. In the deeper fantasy layer, the lighter is represented by two crystals they must strike together to make a spark.

Unfortunately, for reasons known only to director Zack Snyder (who also gets the screenplay and story credit), these crystals are lodged in the throat of a baby dragon. And the baby dragon ain't just going to cough them up, even if the girls ask nicely.

What's cruelest about this scene is that the baby dragon -- an innocent regardless of his/her behavior -- does nothing to deserve a quick yet brutal death. The girls simply sneak up on the baby dragon while he/she is asleep, taking him/her from behind and slicing a sword across his/her neck. For a moment you think that Babydoll (Emily Browning), the film's protagonist, is going to be unable to complete the task on moral grounds, and will show the same mercy she's shown several other incredibly foul characters during the course of the movie, who deserved that mercy a lot less.

Nope.

To make the scene even more pathetic, the cute little dragon even lets out a cute little sleeping noise just moments before his/her untimely passing, which lets us know just how deeply and peacefully and obliviously he/she is sleeping. Talk about a sucker punch -- the definition of a sucker punch is to hit someone when they're not ready/expecting it. They should have called the movie Sucker Cut instead.

So when the mother dragon awakens, and gets pissed at the girls, and wants to burn them to a crisp, we're supposed to root for her to fail. After all, dragons are always evil -- even baby ones, apparently. But if I were a mother dragon and I had just discovered my baby's throat slit, I'd want to light the world on fire. So not only is the original act cruel, in a vacuum, it also has the narrative deficiency of causing the viewer to align with the supposed villain in this scenario.

Maybe it's just the parent in me speaking, but I thought this could have been handled so much differently, especially since the entire plot is episodic and therefore can be pretty much anything they want it to be. There were many ways Snyder could have had a showdown between the girls and a dragon; did the event precipitating it have to be the slitting of a baby dragon's throat?

Not cool, man.

And what was funny (not "ha ha funny") was that they took such pains elsewhere in the movie to make sure the violence was directed entirely at enemies that were a) clearly evil, and b) frequently already dead, such as the zombie Nazis in the second fantasy sequence.

So let me get this straight -- killing live Nazis is not okay. They have to be dead already. But killing a baby dragon is perfectly kosher. (Probably a bad choice of adjective when discussing Nazis.)

It's as if that moment marks the moment when the film's morals entirely fly out the window. What follows is a series of highly questionable activities that I won't get mired in discussing here.

However, I do have some

Other thoughts on Sucker Punch:

Shame on you, Warner Brothers, for trying to be original

We complain so much about how studios are only willing to greenlight safe choices: screen adaptations of ridiculously popular books, sequels to ridiculously popular movies, and remakes of ridiculously popular movies. Sucker Punch is a wholly original idea, from the brain of its director, and we completely shat on it.

There may have been reasons (one described above in detail) to shit on this movie, but if we do, we can't take the moral high ground and expect studios to continue to take this kind of risk when these are the results.

I've recently been discussing how it takes a particular filmmaker awhile to build up the kind of credibility that allows the studio to take a risk on their original pet projects. Christopher Nolan was the example being discussed; he only had the studio's blessing to make Inception because he'd already twice proven his success with a familiar property (Batman).

You can look at Snyder in a similar light. Snyder's movies have largely been successful, but look what they've been: a remake of one of the seminal zombie movies (Dawn of the Dead), an adaptation of a graphic novel (300), an adaptation of what comic book geeks consider their bible (Watchmen), and an adaptation of a somewhat popular kids book series (Legend of the Guardians: The Owls of Ga'Hoole). This last was something of a risk, and predictably it was the least successful. Until Sucker Punch came along and was an unmitigated commercial and critical failure.

I'm not saying you need to pretend you like Sucker Punch when you don't. Just understand what the repercussions of your dislike are, the next time you say Hollywood is lazy and cowardly.

A young Mary McCormack

I just saw Abbie Cornish in Limitless like two weeks ago -- she was a name I'd heard, but I'd yet to see one of her films. For some reason, I didn't notice in that film what I noticed in this film:

She's like a young Mary McCormack.

Consider the physical similarity. Mary is on the left and Abbie is on the right:



This means that I now really like Abbie Cornish, because I really like Mary McCormack.

If you don't know who I'm talking about, you probably should. She's a name that's been around for awhile, although a household name she is not. I think I originally met her (so to speak) when she did such a great job playing Howard Stern's long-suffering wife in the surprisingly enjoyable Private Parts. She's also shown up in two other underrated films (High Heels and Low Lifes and Right at Your Door) as well as such less-interesting fare as K-PAX and 1408. Right now she stars in a TV show I haven't seen (but would see, just because of her) called In Plain Sight.

I'll admit it -- I find her physically attractive. But it goes deeper than that. I also find her incredibly sympathetic. Some actors just have that quality, while others do not. And she's got spunk.

In fact, I really wish I didn't have to dig so hard to find Mary McCormack movies you've probably seen. The woman should get more work.

Hopefully Abbie Cornish can take the baton and have the kind of career I would have liked McCormack to have. (I'm talking about McCormack as though she's over the hill, but she's only 42. Sadly, in Hollywood, it's only downhill from here for women of her age.)

You know what else Sucker Punch reminds me of?

Pan's Labyrinth.

Weird, I know.

But consider it. Both films involve an orphaned girl caught in a horrible real-world existence from which she needs to mentally escape. In both instances, the girl finds this escape in the form of an active fantasy life. Both girls have a wicked -- a very wicked -- stepfather. Actually, Browning's Babydoll has two stepfather figures -- her actual stepfather, and the owner of the bordello who fills that same role.

In both films, at least one opportunity to dispatch of this figure is passed up. In Pan's Labyrinth, the character played by Maribel Verdu passes up an easy opportunity to kill the evil general, played by Sergi Lopez -- to the great detriment of the protagonist. Here, Browning herself passes up opportunities to kill both her stepfather and the cook who tries to rape her friend -- I think it's another character (maybe Cornish's) who doesn't kill the evil bordello owner (Oscar Isaac) when she has the chance. All three of those possible killings would have made Babydoll's life a lot easier.

SPOILER ALERT

And in both films, the girl dies at the end. Well, Babydoll doesn't die -- but she takes a lobotomy for Cornish's character, and that's close enough.

Well, that was probably entirely too many words to write about Sucker Punch.