American Gangster

I've long posited American Gangster (2007) as Ridley Scott's best film in decades. Certainly Gangster isn't the most innovative movie around, but as a crime drama it holds up very well.

Frank Lucas (Denzel Washington) is an enforcer for Harlem crime boss "Bumpy" Johnson (Clarence Williams III). Lucas inherits Johnson's empire upon the latter's death, solidifying his chokehold over Harlem's drug trade, even edging out well-established Italian mob. With the NYPD - especially Detective Trupo (Josh Brolin) - hopelessly corrupt, it's up to the newly established DEA, including honest Newark cop Richie Roberts (Russell Crowe), to take Lucas down.

American Gangster is a definite throwback to '70s crime epics. While readily grafting scenarios and style points from a variety of films (Serpico and The French Connection, most obviously), Gangster reassembles familiar scenarios into an entertaining, thoughtful piece of work.

Scott and writer Steve Zaillian craft their story in ironic dualities. Lucas gets ahead by beating the Italian mob at its own game: he's more polished and articulate than his white counterparts, insisting his associates wear business attire rather than ghetto swag. He pioneers his own methods, going straight to Vietnam for product and going over the Mafia's heads. Yet he's still capable of shocking violence, as when he publicly executes a rival.

All gangster movies play on "American Dream" invocations to some extent, and seeing Lucas upstage Italian gansgters and baffle racist cops is perversely satisfying. Yet Scott makes sure to remind us that, for all his posturing, Lucas is still a criminal. Shock cuts of heroin victims and street killings, pointedly contrasted with criminal wealth and splendor, drives this message home.

Gangster explores the parallels between crime and capitalism. When an Italian mobster rants about Harlem's need for "order," he could be echoing Richard Nixon, elsewhere seen declaring the War on Drugs. Scott makes shrewd use of TV footage, contrasting Lucas's crimes with state-sponsored killing in Vietnam. The war provides a cover for Lucas's operation, the latter using a network of US soldiers, South Vietnamese officials and Chinese warlords to obtain pure heroin. Certainly the forces of law aren't inspiring, with Trupo's narcotics squad shaking down gangsters and the Feds clueless.

The protagonists are also sharply compared. Lucas's brutal crimes are sharply contrasted with his ideal private life: he does on his mother (Ruby Dee) and Puerto Rican wife (Lymari Nadal), feeds the neighborhood poor, and finds jobs for his family. Richie's a straight arrow who turns in $1,000,000 worth of drug money, but his messy divorce and womanizing bely his upright posturing. Each man upholds a personal code while repeatedly violating it.

Direction is one area Ridley Scott can always be counted on, and he stages a fabulous recreation of Nixon-era Harlem. Gangster resembles the aforenamed '70s sagas down to the last gritty detail, with a nice period soundtrack (Across 110th Street, anyone?) to boot. The movie is leisurely paced but thoroughly absorbing, Scott allowing story and characters time to develop. The only action scene is a brutal police raid three-quarters in; smaller, well-time bursts of violence otherwise suffice.

Denzel Washington gives a phenomenal performance. Frank Lucas is a fascinating creation, mixing Corleone-style politesse and cunning with the explosive violence of Tommy de Vito. A punk with a violent past (as a kid he witnessed his brother's lynching), he nonetheless reinvents himself as a shrewd, refined businessman. Washington provides both charm and menace, crafting a more complex and interesting character than his Oscar-winning turn in Training Day.

Russell Crowe is good but Richie's easily the lesser protagonist. Josh Brolin is memorably malicious: of his breakout roles in 2007 (No Country for Old Men, In the Valley of Elah) this may be his best. Ruby Dee (The Tall Target) got an Oscar nod for her small but affecting role. Ted Levine (Shutter Island) gets a solid part, and Cuba Gooding Jr. turns in his best performance in ages. Chiwetel Ejiofor, Ruben Santiago-Hudson, Clarence Williams III, Common and Idris Elba (Thor) are among Frank's associates.

As a final note: both the 157 minute theatrical cut, and a 173 minute extended version are available on video. The extra 15 minutes don't add much. The biggest addition is a coda with Richie meeting Frank outside jail, an awkward, overlong postscript. Stick with the more streamlined theatrical cut.

American Gangster is a well-crafted, entertaining crime saga. If Ridley Scott is going to continue flooding our movie screens, then please let him make solid genre pix instead of overambitious garbage.

Prometheus

After two solid decades of mediocrity, Ridley Scott returns to his early work with Prometheus. Ostensibly a prequel to Alien, it's a fine stand alone film. A respectible stab at cerebral science fiction, it falls short of its ambitions through muddled themes and weak characters.

In the year 2089, scientists Elizabeth Shaw (Noomi Rapace) and Charlie Holloway (Logan Marshall-Green) find a cave painting that points to an alien civilization. The Weyland corporation sends them to join an expedition to a far-off planteoid, led by the ice-cold Vickers (Charlize Theron) and accompanied by Lawrence of Arabia-obsessed android David (Michael Fassbender). On this planet they find signs of an advanced civilization: a race they dub the Engineers, who left traces of advanced civilizaton and may hold the key to human existence. However, they've also left a biological entity that threatens the crew's lives - and may have designs on Earth.

Prometheus is Scott's most ambitious film in awhile, creating another remarkable fantasy world. He crafts another remarkable planet scape, with its forebidding deserts, dripping caves and wind storms to rival Alien's gloomy universe. CGI's rarely been used to such strong effect, with or without 3D, especially the alien holograms and David's first visit to the Engineer control room. Only the creature designs are underwhelming - though if you want to see a big alien vagina go down on a hulking, bald white alien, you'll be satiated.

Scott and writers Joe Spaiths and Damon Lidelof populate the script with intriguing ideas. The Engineers prove to have created human life, but may have more sinister intentions. Shaw's meaning of life ponderings are pointedly rebuked by David, himself created by a "higher power": why must they have a reason? This establishes a pointed fact-vs.-faith dichotomy which provides an interesting thematic anchor. These are worthwhile themes, unoriginal but quite provocative. It's frustrating that the movie abandons them in favor of a third act splatter fest.

Possibly this is due to the script, but Scott's mainly to blame. My gripe with Ridley is that his movies rarely realize their full potential. A capable showman, he lacks the tools to make big ideas work. Alien is basically an extraterrestrial slasher, and Blade Runner proves hollow under the gee-whiz spectacle and florid dialogue. His epics Gladiator and Kingdom of Heaven have flashes of greatness but fall back too readily on crowd-pleasing melodrama and violence. Even his best recent film, American Gangster, cribs too heavily from The French Connection to give Scott overmuch credit.

Prometheus continues this disappointing trend. The movie dilutes its drama through an oversized cast, forestalling most character development. The story takes some odd and unnecessary turns in later scenes: one twist involving a character thought dead seems especially superfluous. Like its predecessors, its intellectual pretensions are undermined by a finale which falls back on creepy  monster cliches. The inconsistency in how creature DNA reacts with humans irked me too. The final reels drag on forever, with little of import revealed beyond the possibility of sequels.

The cast disappoints. Noomi Rapace (the original Lisabeth Salander) is supremely bland, having motivation but no depth. For all the horrors she experiences, Shaw remains single-minded and one-dimensional. Worse still is Logan Marshall-Green, whose contributions are limited to significant glances and booze swilling. Idris Elba (Thor) is ill-used, and Rafe Spall (Anonymous) and Sean Harris are beyond annoying. The less said about Guy Pearce, the better.

There are two standouts. Michael Fassbender (Inglourious Basterds) steals the show, mixing a conscious Peter O'Toole impression with shades of David Bowie, creating a character who's smart, efficient and likeable, but not quite human. Fassbender's a really hot property right now: here's hoping he gets to play Harry Flashman, as rumored. Charlize Theron does fine work with an underwritten character, allowing periodic warmth and vulnerability to shine through her icy exterior. Vickers' near-robotic coldness makes an interesting contrast with the almost-human David.

Prometheus is an enjoyable mixed bag. It's Ridley Scott's best film in awhile, and shows that, if he really puts his mind to it, he's still capable of competence.

Alien

In preparation for Prometheus, I gave Alien (1979) a long-overdue rewatch. I mostly remember this movie featuring in an especially annoying film class: we spent nearly two hours debating whether the two-minute scene of Sigourney Weaver in her undies undermined her toughness by defining her as a sex object. Lord deliver us from feminist critics!

Before Ridley Scott became a wildly overpraised hack he at least showed some creative thought and visual dynamism. In its striking visuals, set design and creepy creatures, Alien certainly delivers. Too bad about the story, which segues from eerie stage-setting into Ten Little Indians cliches.

The space freighter Nostromo gets assigned to answer a distress signal on an unknown planet. While exploring, crew member Kane (John Hurt) gets attacked by a strange being. Against the wishes of Warrant Officer Ripley (Sigourney Weaver), Captain Dallas (Tom Skeritt) takes Kane onboard, but he and Science Officer Ash (Ian Holm) are baffled by the creature. Kane seems to recover, but rudely interrupts dinner when a further-grown alien bursts out his chest. The full-grown creature gradually wipes out the crew, with Ripley discovering that their employers consider the crew expendable.

Alien starts on a perfect note. The elaborate sets seem like a grungier version of 2001's endless corridors, adorned by elaborate-yet-plausible technology, its crew not super-smart astronauts but working class spacemen. The gang's early banter has the right naturalist touch, and the Nostromo's descent onto the foggy alien world is appropriately chilling (helped oh-so-much by Jerry Goldsmith's low-key music). These sequences work best, with an interesting atmosphere, low-key yet disturbing, somehow fusing mundanity with futuristic awe.

Then there's the alien, one of the nastiest creatures in all science-fiction. Working with surrealist H.R. Giger, Scott crafts a frightful beast, both a Freudian nightmare and an unstoppable monster. The creature undergoes interesting evolutions, from the octopoid face huggers to the monstrous xenomorph, represented variously by miniatures, models and costumed man. The alien's appearance, with its bulbous head, rubbery body, crustacean appendanges and mouth-within-a-mouth, makes him a uniquely scary antagonist.

Critics make much of Scott's heavy sexual imagery, which in fact becomes obvious and overwrought. The rape metaphor is chilling, with the crew becoming unwilling broodmares for an alien race. The unsettling alien designs add to the disquiet, as does Kane's "impregnation" and Dallas's fate. But the constant genital analogues eventually grow tedious, reaching a low point when Ash rams a porn magazine down Ripley's throat. Subtle Alien is not.

Alien is a haunted house flick at heart, phallic symbols or no. Halfway through, Scott begins the inevitable process of whitling down his cast. Characters crawl down air vents and wander into dark rooms alone, begging to become alien chow. Harry Dean Stanton's character wins the booby prize, chasing a cat all over the ship, through multiple rooms, until the creature finally finds him. The dramatics aren't much smarter than slasher movies where the victim, being chased by a killer, locks herself inside the house. For a B movie thriller this is fine; for an allegedly cerebral sci-fi film it's cheap.

Sigourney Weaver already shows the no-nonsense toughness which made Ripley an enduring heroine. Yaphett Kotto and Harry Dean Stanton provide a hilarious doubles-act as disgruntled engineers. Ian Holm makes an unsettling presence, with ever-so-subtle hints pointing to his big reveal. John Hurt (A Man for All Seasons) eclipses his entire career with the most gruesome movie death ever. Wooden Tom Skeritt and annoying Veronica Cartwright (The Children's Hour) make up the negative side of the ledger.

Alien is a mixed bag. For all its impressive visuals, it's ultimately formulaic. No matter the lavish sets or dick-headed aliens, it's still about a monster jumping out to say boo.

Robin Hood

In Hollywood's latest attempt to ruin childhoods everywhere, Ridley Scott presents a "dark," "revisionist" take on Robin Hood. Robin Hood (2010) is both a horribly misguided piece of tosh and a grab bag of scenes and ideas from dozens of other, better films. In short, it sucks.

Robin Longstride (Russell Crowe) is an archer serving with Richard the Lionheart (Danny Huston) in the Crusades. When Richard is killed in a battle with French troops, Robin and his buddies return the crown to England, with Robin posing as Robert Loxley (Douglas Hodge), son of a nobleman (Max Von Sydow) living in rural Nottingham. The new King John (Oscar Isaac) is oppressive and inept, turning the nobles against him; treacherous nobleman Sir Godfrey (Mark Strong) connives with France's King to conquer England. Robin woos Maid (really Widow) Marian (Cate Blanchett) and tries to organize Nottingham against Godfrey's scheming.

Ridley Scott was once the director of intelligent and exciting sci-fi films (Alien, Blade Runner). While I'm not the biggest fan of either, at least they showed a degree of creativity and original thought. The last decade of Scott films, notsomuch. Gladiator was a serviceable sword-and-sandal flick burdened with an underdeveloped political subplot cribbed from Spartacus. Black Hawk Down is a decent war flick if you haven't seen Saving Private Ryan/We Were Soldiers/Windtalkers/etc. Kingdom of Heaven was a nice try at an old-fashioned epic, ruined by Orlando Bloom and simple-minded "religion=bad" preaching. American Gangster was a good if derivative crime flick, but Body of Lies was a dull misfire. Robin Hood continues this trend, showing that Scott has long since lost his talent.

Robin Hood boldly posits itself as showing "the man behind the legend", an idiotic conceit since Robin Hood never existed. At least Batman Begins didn't posit Bruce Wayne as a real person. The purpose seems to disabuse its audience of the notion that Robin Hood wore green Technicolor tights or was a cartoon fox, surely a noble and worthwhile pursuit. Bloating the film up to epic length doesn't help matters. Not every movie needs to be Lawrence of Arabia or The Godfather, least of all one about bloody Robin Hood. The irreverent joy and fun of Errol Flynn's Adventures of Robin Hood, the Disney animated version, Robin and Marian or even Kevin Costner's early '90s take is completely absent here, replaced by dour, grimy gloom.

The movie is dark, nasty, and brutish, though painfully long. The action scenes are extremely violent and brutal for PG-13, proving yet again that the MPAA is bonkers. The characters are one-note, boring ciphers without motivation. The film sprinkles in drivel about freedom and liberty (apparently Robin's father wrote the Magna Carta!) in a misguided attempt to add depth to what should be a fun adventure film. Such humor as exists is juvenile and imbecilic. So bereft of joy and fun, indeed so tenuously connected to the legend is it, that there's no reason why the movie should call itself Robin Hood in the first place.

It doesn't help, either, that Scott blatantly steals from many other movies: from Godfrey's Joker-inspired facial scar and Robin's Henry V/Braveheart "FREEDOM!!!" speech, to The Patriot-inspired barn burning and the Saving Private Ryan-esque landing craft and beach battle, there's scarcely an original thought present. Perhaps not surprisingly, Scott "borrows" a good deal from his own Gladiator, particularly the portrayal of John as an ineffectual ninny. All this not-so-earth-friendly recycling belies claims of being a "fresh" take on anything.

The movie cost a pretty penny ($220+ million) and rest assured, every dollar of that is on screen. Period costumes, sets and locations are painstakingly created by Scott and crew, and John Mathieson's photography is often breath-taking. The battle scenes are big and competently staged, though ultimately repetitive; as Lord of the Rings proved, one can only watch so many scenes of computer-generated dudes hacking each other to bits before it gets boring. Brian Helgeland's script is by-the-numbers in both story and dialogue, and Marc Streitenfeld's score is equally dull.

Russell Crowe provides the most boring Robin Hood ever. His conversion from opportunistic soldier to freedom fighter is ridiculously abrupt, and he's a flimsy and unconvincing protagonist. Cate Blanchett is always welcome, but portraying Maid Marian as a tough, castrating feminist is hard to swallow. Oscar Isaac (Body of Lies) chews lots of scenery as King John, playing him as the bastard child of Joaquin Phoenix's Commodus and Peter O'Toole's Henry II. Hollywood villain du jour Mark Strong (Sherlock Holmes, The Young Victoria) is a boring, unmotivated and uninteresting bad guy. Lots of fine actors - Max Von Sydow (Shutter Island), William Hurt (Syriana), Danny Huston (John Adams), Eileen Atkins (Gosford Park) - toil in worthless supporting roles.

Did we need a "revisionist" take on the Robin Hood legend in the first place? I say no, and certainly not a boring, derivative mess like this. Go see Iron Man 2 instead; at least you'll have fun at that one. Robin Hood can only make you bored, sad or angry.

The Duellists

Ridley Scott's 1977 debut is a poor man's Barry Lyndon, which coming from me is a pretty major insult. It has the same beautiful cinematography and painfully languid pace of Stanley Kubrick's snoozefest, and jettisons the redeeming qualities in favor of even more tedium. In short, it stinks.

During the Napoleonic Wars, French Captain D'Hubert (Keith Carradine) is charged to arrest a fellow officer, Feraud (Harvey Keitel), for killing a man in a duel. Feraud takes umbrage, leading to an indecisive swordfight between the two. This sets in motion a two-decade vendetta, in which the two men, whilst serving in the French army, take every opportunity they get to fight - with swords, on horseback, with pistols, anything they can think of. D'Hubert is willing to live and let live, but Feraud is obsessed with avenging his honor; and long after their quarrel should have been terminated, he continually forces D'Hubert into duel after desultory duel.

The reasoning behind The Duellists seems to be that if we have enough period costumes and enough bloody sword fights, we'll have a damned good movie. Sadly that's not the case here - not even close. Scott's direction is pretty rote; the cinematography by is nothing short of gorgeous, but like Barry Lyndon's, it's ornamental rather than engrossing. Some of the fight scenes are well-staged but others are tedious and interchangable. The movie is oddly paced, jumping across huge gulfs of time, bypassing major events, preventing the viewer from gaining any great interest or excitement - yet also langorous and dull. The movie spends little time with any of its characters aside from D'Hubert and all remain cardboard cutouts. The film's overweening irony is beaten over our heads and yet never makes an impression. The anti-climactic ending is a bit clever but it's not nearly enough to save the movie.

The film's ludicrous casting makes Ryan O'Neal's turn in the Kubrick film look like a tour de force. Keith Carradine gives an adequate performance but his character remains a flat cipher throughout. Harvey Keitel's Brooklyn accent is laughably out of place and his performance remains completely one-note - pissed off for little reason. The main female cast members - Cristina Raines, Meg Wynn Owen, and the ravishing Diana Quick - come off better, but have comparatively little screen time. A fine cast of British character actors - Albert Finney, Edward Fox, John McEnery, Robert Stephens, Tom Conti, Alan Webb - is assembled and wasted.

There's not much to commend The Duellists; it's just a lousy film all around. Scott would quickly evolve into a legendary director, with such works as Alien, Blade Runner, Thelma and Louise and Gladiator (none of which are that good for my money), but whatever the merits of his later works, he produced a stinking turd out of the starting gate.

Gladiator

In Rome circa 185 AD, General Maximus (Russell Crowe) leads a successful expedition against Germanic tribes in the northern empire. Dying Emperor Marcus Aurelius (Richard Harris) confides that he is to succeed as Emperor, to the chagrin of the vain, ego-maniacal Commodus (Joaquin Phoenix), who kills Marcus and usurps the throne. Maximus is expelled from the army, his family is killed, and he ultimately ends up in Rome as a gladiator for Proximo (Oliver Reed). Defying the will of the Emperor and eager to have his revenge, Maximus becomes a hero to the masses and joins Commodus's sister Lucilla (Connie Nielsen) and a cabal of Senators led by Gracchus (Derek Jacobi) in an attempt to bring down Commodus.

Gladiator is something of a paradox. As a well-made, entertaining action film, it's hard to beat. Its attempts to be something more, however... not so much. It's very entertaining, an excellent crowd-pleaser to be sure, but it's far from the great film it's widely considered to be.

Gladiator wants to be something significant. Its multi-faceted plot, its commentary on society, its distinguished cast of actors, epic battle scenes, and great musical score almost push it there. The movie borrows heavily from Fall of the Roman Empire (settings and characters), Spartacus and Ben-Hur (for the plot). This is not a criticism, merely an observation. And the movie does have an inkling of being something more than just another action movie. And yet it fails, because at heart it is basically Braveheart in a toga.

Perhaps I'm just not enthralled by the film's basic storyline. See if this sounds familiar: A successful warrior who wants only to live in peace is roused to ass-kicking action by the death of his family at the hands of cartoonishly evil villains. This is the plot of Braveheart, The Patriot, and innumerable Westerns, action films, and Steven Seagal/Chuck Norris slugfests. Death of family members is an easy motivation for a character, and dare I suggest a lazy one. Maximus isn't a thoughtful, conflicted hero like T.E. Lawrence or Spartacus, he's just a man of action who wants to wreak vengeance on those who wronged him. In spite of its attempts to convince us otherwise, the movie is basically a Schwarzenegger or Van Damme flick set in Roman times with a lead actor who can act.

The subplots of the film don't fare much better. The character of Commodus in particular is a disappointment. One of the few good things about Fall of the Roman Empire is Christopher Plummer's portrayal of Commodus. Commodus is an egomaniac with delusions of grandeur. He's not horribly complex in that film but Plummer makes it work. Whether it's the script or Joaquin Phoenix's acting, this film's Commodus is a sniveling weakling - basically Laurence Olivier's Crassus with his balls cut off. I appreciate the effort to give him motivation (his father never truly loved him) but in his big scene with Marcus Aurelius, Commodus doesn't come across as heart-broken, merely insincere. Commodus is a petulant child who lacks menace. David Schofield's duplictious Senator Falco is a much more effective bad guy. The Senate plot against the Emperor is under-developed and comes across as a bad pastiche of Spartacus.

On a purely action level, the movie is pretty good. The epic battle which opens the film is not particularly impressive in my opinion, but the gladiator combats later in the film are impressive. The visceral thrill of a gladiatorial match comes across well, particularly when Proximo's gladiators "upset" an enemy team. The fight between Maximus and the "Tigress of Gaul" is very well-handled, as is the final duel between Commodus and Maximus. The CGI is of mixed quality. It's impressive in some scenes (notably Commodus's entry into Rome) but in other parts it's murky and distracting. Hans Zimmer's score is haunting and helps drive the film's more powerful moments.

The movie excels largely because of Russell Crowe. FOTRE failed because Stephen Boyd is a block of wood; Crowe, playing a very similar role, excels. Maximus is not a particularly noble hero but he's a fabulous action star, and Crowe does bring a degree of intelligence and complexity to complement the ass-kicking. The supporting cast is mostly under-used. Djimon Honsou, Oliver Reed, David Schofield and Derek Jacobi give the most memorable supporting performances in the film despite very limited screen time. Richard Harris is disappointing as Marcus Aurelius, and Joaquin Phoenix and Connie Nielsen aren't particularly compelling either.

Gladiator is one of the best action films ever made, on a purely action level. But in its attempts to be something more... well, not so much, I'm afraid.

Rating: 7/10 - Recommended