...what on Earth are my twins going to do with that?
While searching for stills from the new thriller "Devil," I came across my favorite silver-haired glare-giver, and couldn't resist a little postage. For unlike Ms. Priestley's brats, I like to share.
For a great collection of Miranda's finest, tastiest lines (there are oh so many), check out this recent post from Nathaniel Rogers at The Film Experience: Miranda Priestley Forever. (Be sure to read the comments, too, as the blog's readers had much to contribute.)
I'm loving the delicious reviews George Clooney's decidedly un-American drama "The American" is generating. It's a polarizer, this one -- uneventful, yet memorable; boring, yet beautiful.
Three of my favorite critics offer three significantly different takes on the film, one praising it up and down, one landing just north of the middle, and one tearing it to pieces. They are great reads all.
(And, oh, do I lovethat poster)
Roger Ebertwrites the most glowing review out there, focusing on the film's head-turning nuances ("Mr. Butterfly," you say?) and crafting some of his loveliest sentences in months.
Assuming what seems to be the popular position, A.O. Scott can't quite commit to loving the movie, and offers perfectly balanced reasons why you shouldn't miss it and why you'll be perfectly forgiven if you do (and he, like Ebert, admires the film's impeccable craft).
And Kyle Smith-- for my money the funniest critic working today -- skewers the film like a world-class roaster. Even if your take is the polar opposite of his, Smith's observations are always hyper-informed and fall-on-the-floor hilarious. My favorite bits from this new piece involve Lady Gaga, Lite-Brite and someone named Jorg Clooné.
My review of "The American" will be posted next week.
The Turkish-German filmmaker has made a career out of producing healthy alternatives to mainstream junk. Bringing food to the forefront, his new, easy-to-digest comedy Soul Kitchen is no exception.
By R. Kurt Osenlund
Fatih Akin
THERE'S A GREAT LINE in Soul Kitchen, a new German comedy and the latest from Turkish-German filmmaker Fatih Akin, that speaks volumes beyond its context. It’s uttered with damning authority by Shayn (Birol Ünel), a curmudgeonly, elitist gourmet chef whose need for a job brings him to the Hamburg restaurant of the film’s title — a greasy spoon owned by Zinos (Adam Bousdoukos), the equally desperate protagonist.
“People don’t know what’s good,” Shayn growls to Zinos. “They stuff their bellies full of shit.”
Shit, that is, like the schnitzel, pizza, hamburgers and french fries Zinos regularly served to his fat and happy customers before Shayn showed up. Shit, like more than half of the titles served up in movie theaters these days. Akin — who’s been known for his outspoken political views and has explored such sober topics as his Turkish heritage in his 2004 breakthrough Head-On and his sprawling 2007 drama The Edge of Heaven — attempts lighter fare with Soul Kitchen, but he’s sure to offer his commentary on the way contemporary audiences gobble up media, and how films with actual nutritional value (like his) are increasingly scarce.
“More and more art house theaters are closing,” the 36-year-old writer/director/producer says while visiting Philadelphia last month to promote Soul Kitchen. “They don’t have any audience anymore. And it’s a shame, it’s a pity—the fewer art house cinemas you have, the more multiplexes you get. Some art house films are being shown in multiplexes, but it’s tough — you have the first weekend, and if you don’t have your audience by then, you’re out. In the past, these films were given time — people could discover them, talk about them. We don’t have that anymore. People don’t know what’s good; they just fill their bellies in.”
The struggle of the art houses, and Hollywood’s growing aversion to making risky, enriching movies, only increase the value of work from artists like Akin, whose films are lived-in and alive in ways the average Tinseltown junk food only pretends to be. Head-On, a wild relationship drama that deservedly won the Golden Bear at the Berlin Film Festival of its year, is one of those bracing oddities that’s passionately, perfectly, itself. The death-themed, interconnected tale The Edge of Heaven didn’t impress this writer quite like its predecessor did, but it seemed true to its maker, showed his ambition, and more than earned the enthusiastic acclaim it received from most critics.
Adam Bousdoukos and Birol Ünel in Soul Kitchen
Soul Kitchen, a zestful, sometimes farcical, departure from Akin’s other films, hits you with a liveliness straight out of the gate, and it appeals to your sense of humor, your sense of smell, your sense of taste. It’s the type of hilarious comedy in which a sympathetic straight man sits in the eye of a tornado of antics and capital-C characters, set in a believable world that sees beef and beer collide with balsamic reductions. With its yummy close-ups of delicious dishes being prepared, and Chef Shayn’s condemnation of “uncultured peasants” and “culinary racists,” you’d think Akin was trying to have his bite of the foodie-movie craze, hoping his film would entice the audiences of I Am Love, Eat Pray Love and that other Julia movie from last year. But, in truth, Soul Kitchen was in the works well before it became fashionable to put cuisine on the screen.
As Akin tells it, the making of Soul Kitchen dates back to the fall of 2003, when post-production for Head-On was just wrapping. Drained of money after having to sign on as producer of Head-On (“It was the only way I could do the film I wanted to do,” he says), the then-fledgling filmmaker had the “naive idea” to make an inexpensive film to pay the rent. He’d write something very quickly, produce it very quickly, shoot it on video, improvise the dialogue and work with friends. He’d contact Bousdoukos, a collaborator and restaurant owner who knew the world of Soul Kitchen (and would ultimately become co-writer and leading man). They’d film at Bousdoukos’s restaurant.
“We thought, ‘this will save us,’” Akin says, referring to the three founders of indie production company Corazón International: Akin, Klaus Maeck and Akin’s dear friend, Andreas Thiel. “That was how it started.”
But, soon, Head-On became a sensation, nabbing the Golden Bear, two European Film Awards, a smattering of additional accolades and an outpouring of adoration from critics and international audiences. The pressure to craft a worthy follow-up was mounting, and Akin, “confused” and “inexperienced,” began to doubt his get-rent-quick scheme of Soul Kitchen and shelved it. He kept working on the script in his downtime, rewriting it repeatedly, but in the foreground he poured himself into projects like The Edge of Heaven and Crossing the Bridge: The Sound of Istanbul, a documentary about contemporary Turkish music and culture. Then, amidst the creative output, came tragedy. Thiel, Akin’s pal and partner, passed away, leaving the grief-stricken director “emotionally exhausted” and unwilling to make another potent, serious drama. The perfect time, it seemed, to revisit Soul Kitchen.
“Andreas always wanted me to do Soul Kitchen,” Akin says. “He’d say, ‘Don’t care what other people think! Don’t be the slave of your success, man! You have to liberate yourself and do what you want!’ That was the last lesson he taught me, and I’m very thankful he did. And I’m very thankful that I made the film. It was what I needed — I needed a comedy.”
And it turns out comedy is something for which Akin has quite a talent. The farce — and occasional fantasy — that Soul Kitchen veers into is, shall we say, a bit much (in one scene, an aphrodisiac-laced dish sends the whole restaurant into an orgiastic frenzy), but oftentimes the humor feels easy and effortless, which of course means a lot of effort went into it. Citing the great Billy Wilder as a major influence, Akin says his latest film is also his most choreographed, with many scenes having averaged 20 to 30 takes, as opposed to his usual three or four. The increased discipline came from his desire to control the timing.
“With Head-On or The Edge of Heaven, they have their own timing,” Akin says. “There’s a stream, and the only intelligent thing I can do as a director is follow that. Here, it was not like that. Here, I had to create the rhythm.”
All of Akin’s films have a very strong sense of rhythm, especially Soul Kitchen. One would assume the director — a slightly stocky, sincere-looking gentleman whose kind eyes are topped by black, bushy caterpillar brows — is a good dancer. The editing of his pictures has the continuous pump and flow of a pulse, and the music, carefully selected and utterly indispensable each time out, has become an auteur’s hallmark, and is enough to keep you plenty busy on iTunes. Soul Kitchen boasts the sounds of Kool & The Gang, Quincy Jones, Curtis Mayfield, Louis Armstrong and The Isley Brothers, to name a few. Akin says he and his team wanted to find the sound of Hamburg, a city that saw the rise of beat music in the 1960s, and has a long-standing identification with Afro-American culture.
The cast of Soul Kitchen
“The material was asking for a certain sound,” Akin says. “Hamburg is very much, in my opinion, a soul town. We collected the tracks in 15 months, and changed them around as the script progressed. Music is an emotional counter of a film. And when you have the chronological order of the tracks already, you have an emotional map of your film before you shoot it.”
Though the movie inspires a lot of foot tapping (its soundtrack sales are steadily climbing in Europe), with Soul Kitchen, it always comes back to food. And it’s hard not to point out that Akin, with his avoidance of junk and his consideration of choice ingredients and presentation, is something of a fine restaurateur himself. Feeding the analogy, he says Soul Kitchen is his film about filmmaking. He explains a chef is like a director, customers are like viewers, dishes are like films (gobbled up quickly) and the stressed, string-pulling restaurant owner is like a producer. He remembers a question he asked Bousdoukos on set, while shooting one of the many scenes in which Zinos scrambles to keep his passion project afloat.
“I was asking him about his performance and I said, ‘What were you doing there?’” Akin recalls. “And he said, ‘I was imitating you. Couldn’t you tell?’”
***** This article was previously published in the September 2010 issue of ICON magazine. It has been reprinted with permission.
It's a little insane that I haven't uttered a peep about "Scream 4" yet. My obsession with these films -- well, at least, the first one -- was borderline unhealthy. My excitement for the fourth installment can't be overstressed. It's not that I'm expecting anything superb (I'm in fact expecting rubbish), it's just that for so long I thought all the "Scream 4" talk was simply rumors and hearsay. Now that it's actually happening, I have that little-kid feeling inside -- like when "Batman Returns" was released.
In case you didn't know, "Scream 4" brings back stars Neve Campbell, David Arquette and his wife, Courtney "Cougar" Cox; director Wes Craven; and writer Kevin Williamson. According to Dimension Films (whose Bob Weinstein is said to have initiated the reboot), the fourth installment is set to be the start of a new trilogy, catered to the changing state of horror in the new decade (hence the tagline, "New Decade. New Rules.").
The supporting cast, which seems to grow every few weeks, already includes Emma Roberts (as Sidney Prescott's cousin), Hayden Panettiere (as Roberts' character's BFF), Rory Culkin (as the new Randy-type geek), Adam Brody (as a cop -- with a lot of one-liners, no doubt), Marley Shelton (as another cop), Anthony Anderson (as the token black guy, I suspect) and Mary McDonnell (probably as somebody's mom). On Aug. 25, it was announced that Kristen Bell and Anna Paquin will also appear in the film.
The twisted thrill of these movies -- and, certainly, of hearing about the casting -- is guessing which pretty players will get iced and which will do the icing. My guesses: Anna Paquin bites it in the opening, a la Drew Barrymore and Jada Pinkett Smith; Hayden Panettiere gets cut to ribbons; Anthony Anderson martyrs himself; Rory Culkin hangs on for another installment; and Adam Brody and Marley Shelton are a sick husband-and-wife team who get their jollies offing people and posing as the case-crackers. Hey, that actually sounds pretty plausible! (I swear I haven't read the script.)
The arrival of the "127 Hours" teaser is old news, but I had to post it. I wasn't expecting this dreary-sounding flick to have so much kinetic energy, but I should have known better when considering a Danny Boyle movie.
It's always refreshing to see a filmmaker who wields the medium with stimulating, individualistic zeal, especially with the odor of the disposable, detestable "Going the Distance" still clinging. I've watched this trailer about five times now, for the sun-orange earth, the turquoise-blue splash at the camera, and the tempting-on-its-own score by "Slumdog Millionaire" composer A.R. Rahman. If it's half as good as this clip, "127 Hours" will be quite the worthwhile two.
I'm a devout Patricia Clarkson fan, and I've loved her every time I've seen her on screen, but she may be what I loved the least about "Cairo Time," the first movie to give her a romantic leading role. The "Cairo" part is what entranced me here -- when the movie ends, the aching sensation that lingers is as much a product of the film's atmosphere as its delicate affair.
Read my full review of "Cairo Time," along with a word on the "Red Riding Trilogy," now online at SouthPhillyReview.com. CLICK HERE.
Tony Rogers, my invaluable journalism professor and a 20-year veteran of the newspaper biz (his credits include The New York Daily News and the AP), recently asked if I'd take part in a little interview about freelance journalists for the Journalism Guide he writes and edits over at About.com. You know, ask me about film criticism and making little money and such. 'Without question,' I said. This guy has a lot to do with how and why I decided to pursue journalism full steam ahead, and he's always offered sound advice and insight.
The interview was only six questions, but it was fun to be on the other end of those questions for once, and that someone cared to know what I do for a living, and how I do it, felt pretty damn good. The little interview is now posted on About.com, along with the handsome photo you see here. Best of all, the piece now comes up as the No. 2 result when I Google my byline, inching me ever closer to sweet, elusive fame. (I jest a bit, but don't scoff...you know you Google yourself, too.)
Sly Stallone's star-studded machismo machine "The Expendables" is so soullessly obsessed with shooting dudes, blowing up dudes, cutting dudes and talking to dudes about doing other dude stuff that -- dude! -- it practically put me to sleep.
That cast list is plenty cool, and it's fun to watch the names flash across the screen in the unembellished opening credit sequence, but the movie itself -- not campy enough to be camp, not committed enough to be cult -- is a throwaway, through and through. It should be called...oh, wait...
Catch my full review of "The Expendables," now online at SouthPhillyReview.com. CLICK HERE.
So, while I'm sure you've heard of Darren Aronofsky's upcoming dark dancer drama "Black Swan," perhaps you weren't aware that the trailer (and poster) have landed. I love, love, love when an enticing film aimed right at my pleasure zone is perfectly, artfully packaged to increase my excitement.
The poster will likely be among my favorites of '09 (what with its beautiful white space and the enhancement of Nat Portman's perfecto facial symmetry), but the trailer, embedded below, is easily one of the year's best. Offering gorgeous teases of the lensing by Aronofsky's favorite DP, Matthew Libatique, and a whopper of a final revelation that never gives away too much, it practically wills you to dish out the ticket price. See for yourself:
I know plenty of folks are flipping out over this hyperactively hipster media mash-up, but despite being tickled and impressed, the chief feelings I had walking out were dizziness and fatigue. Flick needs some serious Concerta.
Catch my full review of "Scott Pilgrim vs. the World" at SouthPhillyReview.com. CLICK HERE.
The exploitation of the broadly-drawn grotesques in "Dinner for Schmucks" is neither clever nor funny, and many scenes are squirm-inducing in their short-sighted desperation. See it if you like not laughing.
Read my full review, now online at SouthPhillyReview.com. CLICK HERE.
Angelina tears s**t up in another action film, this time as a super-spy who may or may not be a supervillain. She's the highlight of Philip Noyce's competent, but missable thriller.
My review of "Salt" is now online at SouthPhillyReview.com, with a brief word on the extraordinary "A Prophet," coming to DVD Tuesday. CLICK HERE
Now here's a movie well worth your 11 bucks. Lisa Cholodenko's "The Kids Are All Right" is a vital film, and a funny, emotional and deeply honest one at that. Don't wait.
Read my review, now online at SouthPhillyReview.com. CLICK HERE.
"Prince of Persia." "Jonah Hex." "The Last Airbender." "The Sorcerer's Apprentice." These movies are starting to feel like trips to the gas station. Refuel. Burn. Repeat. And worst of all, for many of you, pay ridiculous prices.
Catch my review of "The Sorcerer's Apprentice," the latest fantasy blockbuster that's a complete waste of Hollywood's money and yours, now online at SouthPhillyReview.com. CLICK HERE.
I'm loving the delicious reviews George Clooney's decidedly un-American drama "The American" is generating. It's a polarizer, this one -- uneventful, yet memorable; boring, yet beautiful.
Fatih Akin
Adam Bousdoukos and Birol Ünel in Soul Kitchen
The cast of Soul Kitchen
It's a little insane that I haven't uttered a peep about "Scream 4" yet. My obsession with these films -- well, at least, the first one -- was borderline unhealthy. My excitement for the fourth installment can't be overstressed. It's not that I'm expecting anything superb (I'm in fact expecting rubbish), it's just that for so long I thought all the "Scream 4" talk was simply rumors and hearsay. Now that it's actually happening, I have that little-kid feeling inside -- like when "Batman Returns" was released.
