I’ve had the pleasure of seeing three movies geared for the male species this past week. You know how, after spending some time in Europe, you feel 10 times more masculine in light of European men? Well, that’s how I’m feeling after this week-long IV drip of cinematic testosterone.
George Clooney as The American. (source: mubi.com)
The American
George Clooney. OK, maybe this one was designed to attract the ladies as well, and my female friend certainly did enjoy it. What’s not to like? A spy-thriller of sorts set in Europe. The stoic loner, burdened by his past sins and seeking some sort of redemption – in spite of himself.
The plot may seem all too familiar, and this version has more holes than most. Clooney’s character was lacking on a number of fronts. You are never given any real backstory. And that, coupled with the fact that the service he provides in not necessarily something that requires a clandestine approach, almost makes it all seem a bit silly.
And then there are the little things that add to its contrived nature. For example, no one goes down on a whore. Now I’ll be the first to admit that I know nothing about prostitution, and I can only imagine that what you are and are not allowed to do with such a woman is determined largely by your financial resources. Perhaps I should ask Wayne Rooney. But in a world where too few men practice the art of cunnilingus, it seems even more unlikely that a guy – despite his clandestine operative bad-ass loaner credentials – would be lapping up the essence of a woman who makes her living by inviting society’s least desirable pricks to make frequent deposits there. Even my 13 year-old nephew thought that this was a bit suspect, and I can only assume he knows as little about hookers as I do. And I’m not even going to bother with the likelihood that such a young, attractive prostitute would be found in a remote town, as opposed to Rome or some other European city with a little more flash and finance.
But if you can overlook such things, and are willing to settle for paper mache instead of carved stone, The American is good enough to get by. It was entertaining. There was action and intrigue. It is beautifully filmed, and having the Renaissance hill towns east of Rome as a backdrop makes it all the more appealing. Just temper your expectations. It’s rare that Clooney doesn’t hit the ground with both feet. But even Clooney can stumble every now and then. It’s better than most of the crap you’ll see in the cinema these days, but we’ve come to expect a little more from the man.
Machete
Ah, the iconic date flick. Or not. When I saw the Tarantino/Rodriguez “Grindhouse” double feature of Planet Terror and Death Proof back in 2007, I do recall wondering – hoping – to see some of the faux previews they showed beforehand, including a trailer for Machete. Well, folks, our prayers have been answered.
But prepare yourself. If you thought some of Rodriguez’s earlier films were over the top, you’ll need a ladder for Machete. It’s like he’s pioneering a whole new genre. Move of blaxploitation – it’s time for some mexploitation.
The good news is that the outlandish plot and anemic dialog are compensated for by a wonderful ensemble cast. You, of course, have Danny Trejo in the lead, but don’t expect him to be doing Shakespeare in the Park anytime soon. Jessica Alba plays a rather scrumptious ICE agent, who conveniently has complete autonomy in her job. Bobby De Niro plays a Republican senator that would give Glenn Beck happy pants. Don Johnson is one of those tea-bagging vigilantes who claim the right to patrol our borders. Steven Seagal, in his first film in eight years that hasn’t gone straight to DVD, plays a Mexican drug lord. Michelle Rodriguez shows some skin as a tough taco truck owner. Cheech Marin is a priest (of course). And Lindsay Lohan plays a young Lindsay Lohan. Fortunately her naked body gets more lines than she does.
I am compelled to note that Rodriguez was exceptionally kind to Trejo - not just in making this film, his first as a lead actor, but also in the script and casting. He get’s some loving from Alba, Rodriguez, Lohan, and Lohan’s mom. He also tosses in the Avellan twins. In fact, in addition to serving up Lohan naked, as well as Mayra Leal (a dead ringer for Eva Mendes), he is kind enough to give us a brief shower scene with Alba. That’s just fine directing. Unless, of course, there’s any truth to the rumors that special effects were used to make Alba appear naked, in which case that’s no way to earn an Oscar.
As a movie, it’s nowhere near some of Rodriquez’s earlier work – and I’m not talking about Spy Kids. But Machete is amusing. And the blood and gore get thinner as it wears on. You can guess at the plot, not that it really matters. It could have been a more powerful morality tale about acknowledging that all Americans were immigrants at some point. Instead, it’s a Mexican with a machete, laying waste to anything that doesn’t have tits. Which ain’t bad, when you think about it.
Now we can only hope that they’ll soon start production on another Grindhouse trailer, Werewolf Women of the SS. Their boots aren’t the only thing that’s jacked!
Restrepo
When I heard that Sebastian Junger, the author of A Perfect Storm, had spent some time in Afghanistan filming a documentary about a platoon of combat soldiers, I had a few preconceived notions. Honestly, I expected one of those “this is why we fight” dramas where you get a bunch of misfit kids who just want to serve mom and apple pie.
OP Restrepo in Afghanistan's deadly Korengal Valley. (source: cinemagia.ro)
Yes, they are kids. That’s who fights wars. And yes, they want to serve their country, though I’m not sure they want their mom to see what they really do for a living.
But you should know. While Iraq was clearly an unjust war, Afghanistan is far more righteous. And because it’s such a difficult battle, the focus in the media tends to have been on Iraq (which, one could argue, is one of the reasons behind the Bush administration’s drive to invade Iraq: if Bin Laden proves too tough to get to, then find a new boogie man who’ll prove easier to lynch…bread and circus, baby).
Now, with “combat operations” officially over in Iraq (sans the flyboy fanfare on an aircraft carrier), perhaps people will start to pay more attention to the real war on terrorism, the one that’s been dragging on in Afghanistan since October 2001. Restrepo is certainly a step in the right direction. Though the “stealth marketing” of this feature-length documentary certainly hasn’t helped the cause.
US soldiers endured several firefights a day at OP Restrepo. (source: cinemagia.ro)
The lack of attention given to Restrepo – even after winning at Sundance – is downright puzzling, given the success of an admittedly more bubbly documentary about soldiers in Iraq, Gunner Palace, which received rave reviews (including one by the prestigious Burning Love Institute). As a fairly frequent watcher of the National Geographic Channel (National Geographic produced this film), you’d think I’d have seen a promo at some point. And as one of the 14 civilians who regularly enjoy programming on the Military Channel, I never even saw an ad for the film. In fact, I am not sure how I eventually did hear about it. Perhaps a review in The New Yorker?
And if you are lucky enough to have heard about the film, it’s certainly not easy to find in the theaters, especially when theater owners are more interested in cinematic marvels like Nanny McPhee Returns, Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, and Step Up 3D. As for the art house cinemas that tend to carry these documentaries, it’s had a scarce showing there as well. Of course it’s perfectly understandable that the American public would be more interested in seeing a documentary about the self-inflicted, pathetic downfall of actor Joaquin Phoenix (like Robert Downey Jr., except without any appreciable talent) than learning about what sort of hell the kid down the block is going through so they can have the freedom to burn korans if they so choose (and ain’t it funny that all those people who are quick to defend the right to burn a sacred text are also among the first to deny the right to burn an American flag as a freedom of expression?).
US soldiers enjoy a rare break in the fighting at OP Restrepo. (source: cinemagia.ro)
When I first heard of Restrepo, I assumed it was some sort of grunt-speak for downtime in a combat zone - rest and “repo” equipment and munitions. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Private Juan Restrepo was the platoon’s medic, who was killed early on in their 2007 deployment to the Korengal Valley in Afghanistan, arguably one of the most dangerous places on the planet. There’s no sappy memorial montage to him, though. In fact, you don’t learn much about him – beyond the fact that everyone loved him dearly, as a brother, friend, and fellow soldier. Which, in essence, is what the film is about – the perseverance of American soldiers in the face of losing all that is dear to them. Yet one must still consider the contrast of the Taliban soldiers, who endure far greater losses and hardships. Sadly, their online propaganda videos probably have a wider audience then this film will see.
Unlike your average documentary that follows around troops in combat, Restrepo offers relatively little information on each soldier’s background. There are no interviews with friends or families about what they were like, or why they signed up. And there’s no corny where-are-they-now montage at the end.
Filmmakers Sebastian Junger (left) and Tim Hetherington (right) at OP Restrepo. (source: cinemagia.ro)
The format is a mix of handheld video of patrols and firefights laced with off-duty antics and chilling close-up interviews of those who survived. The latter were shot in Italy, the waypoint for troops heading back home. It takes a while to get used to, but it proves to be a potent mix. It covers the action from their arrival in the Korengal, to the establishment of a hilltop observation post named after Private Restrepo (which turns out to be the basis of the film’s name, more so than the fallen soldier). A controversial incident, the deaths of several civilians as a result of an attack on the village of Yakha Chena, is featured in the film. However, given that the deaths resulted from trigger happy gunships (a tragedy that appears to be all too common among our pilots), it remains only a tangential horror that the soldiers on the ground can never fully escape.
What probably makes Restrepo work so well is what the film lacks, and that’s a heavy dose of the typical gung-ho bullshit that burdened films like Gunner Palace. Yes, there is some young bravado. But the filmmakers didn’t pick the most exhibitionist soldiers they could find, much like a casting call for some faux-drama reality show. The soldiers in Restrepo are unremarkable as individuals, at least from what we can tell from this slice of their lives. However, they are remarkable for what they do as a team. After all, in combat, a hero is nothing more than the link in the chain that failed to break when tested. It’s not a special link, or a super link. It’s just the kid who lives down the block, doing the best he can. We certainly couldn’t ask for more.
It turns out Junger’s stay with the Airborne soldiers fighting in the Korengal in 2007 was short-lived compared to that of Tim Hetherington, the award-winning British photographer who filmed and directed the documentary along with Junger. Hetherington is no stranger to war zones. He covered the genocide in Rwanda and had spent enough time in Liberia to warrant an execution order from then president and perennial madman Charles Taylor. Junger writes of his time in the Korengal in his new book, War. Hetherington also published a photo essay from the Korengal called Infidel. After seeing their work together on this film, these are two books I’ll be adding to my reading list.
