A Clooney Twooney pt. 1: THE FANTASTIC MR. FOX

I spent a lot of time with George Clooney last weekend. Yes, that handsome darling of an older gentleman and I enjoyed four hours together on Saturday and Sunday, and I have to say, it was a bit uneven. I haven't seen two films in the theater in a weekend for as long as I can remember, but between the need to see Fantastic Mr. Fox on the big screen (I'm a Wes Anderson sycophant, somebody help me) and a hungover rainy Sunday viewing of Up In The Air, it just happened.

It's late, so my Clooney Twooney is being divided down the middle, but I'll discuss my thoughts on the amazing Fantastic Mr. Fox today and then poke holes in the nonsense of Up In The Air come Monday. Clooney love will be spattered throughout

Fantastic Mr. Fox

As I just stated, I'm a bit of Wes Anderson fan. The Royal Tenenbaums has long been my favorite movie (though that list needs some serious tweaking) with Rushmore, The Life Aquatic, and Bottle Rocket peppering my top twenty. Hell, I even loved The Darjeeling Limited. Thus, when Yon-Marcum, my hirsute roomie inquired about my interest in a screening of his new stop-motion adaptation of beloved kids author Roald Dahl's equally beloved short story, I was more than in. Sure it was going to cost me 10.50 (my fake student discount only works at AMC theaters on Thursday, and then it still would've been 8.50) but I haven't missed out on an Anderson film in the theater since Rushmore.

And, of course, a Wes Anderson film featuring George Clooney as a smooth talking animated fox? Both arms and legs would be sold to see this film.

This is a film about Mr. Fox and, as in all Wes Anderson films, his extremely large family. His beautiful wife (Meryl Streep, who I swear only gets better with age), his cape-wearing son (Jason Schwartzman), his talented nephew (Eric Anderson) and a bevy of other animals who loosely fill in the cracks. Mr. Fox, Foxy, is a retired chicken thief who's become a writer in his old age, but yearns for a new life above the burrows he and his family have spent their lives in. When he moves to a tree though, his years of burglary come back to haunt him.

First things first, this is a Wes Anderson film. Animated or adapted or directed from a hotel room, this is as much a Wes Anderson film as any he's made. Sure, the actor's are replaced with beautifully crafted stop-motion figurines, but that's the only change. The short square shots buoyed by rectangular tracking shots? Check. The diverse brood of characters? Check. The sleeve full of family issues worn proudly? Check. And finally, the dry, yet cheery ending? Check.

This is Wes Anderson, and if you've tired of his style, this film isn't for you. And we can't be friends anymore.

That said, this is Anderson in a whole new sandbox, one bedecked with a sort of whimsical silliness unseen in his other films. The Pulp-scored dance/thievery montage comes to mind. The spiral-eyed possum comes to mind. The insane proportions of the film's baddies come to mind. Willem Dafoe's perverted, L'siana rat comes to mind. This is a Wes Anderson deftly combined with the surreal world of Roald Dahl's imagination and it is a beautiful combination.

The dialogue is sharp and crisp, the themes (being different is a-okay) delightfully executed, and best of all the colors pop like winter fireworks. I found myself smiling, giggling, and generally enjoying myself like no other film this year.

And how's Clooney as an animated burglar fox? Fantastic. Absolutely. He's my perfect crook - charming, witty, funny, but tinged with enough experience that you know he could be deadly. After the film Yon-Marcum and I discussed how we'd love to see the prequel to this film or the further adventures of Foxy and family. How'd we'd enjoy even dipping in to a different story as long as it existed in this little world.

A solid 10 of a film. Get out and see it if you can.

I'm sure glad that Guillermo del Toro makes movies.

I love myself some Guillermo del Toro. I love the Hellboy films (two is better than one, I promise), I love his Spanish historical horrors (Pan's Labyrinth is a breathtaking film), I even love his first dips in to the American horror market (Chronos and the much-maligned Mimic). Guillermo del Toro is a talented filmmaker, a true master if you ask me.

But, really, I think he should probably stick to the film medium.

I recently, quite excitedly, devoured The Strain, the first book in his vampire-trilogy written with Chuck Hogan. And was more than disappointed. I was actually appalled that book so trite and so poorly written was somehow birthed from the mind of one of the greats working today. I was shocked that any publisher would look at this book, written seemingly by a sixteen year old Stephen King after huffing a jar of paint thinner, and be excited to put it on the shelves. I was vocally angry that characters like these (two dimensional and seemingly rented from the Character Warehouse) are still being used today.

The Strain takes place in a New York on the verge of solar eclipse. A commercial airliner lands on a tarmac at JFK filled with dead passengers. Enter Ephram Goodweather and his virtually non-existent assistant Nora, two members of the CDC's Canary group, the folk who try to warn and help the public against widespread epidemics. I'll break the news, this is a book about vampires, and the epidemic spreading across the city of New York is of course, a vampire plague. There's a master vampire, and a older more dangerous vampires, and a slew of individual vampires who's stories we follow as the book progresses, and lets not forget about the group of vampire-hunters who come together to try and battle this unstoppable plague. Each and all barely characters, just shadows of characters that have populated other stories and video games and comic books the world over. An old man who's fought vampires across the world (check), a recently released gang-banger with a heart of gold (check), an erratic genius doctor who kills to save his family (check), and an attractive lady with absolutely nothing to do but be a love interest (check). And sadly, none of these characters are anything more than these one off descriptions.

And that's just the start of the writing mishaps that plague this near awful book.

Lets not start on the plot (literally every vampire book ever written mashed in to one) or the stylistic inability to convey any sort of excitement in the vampire battles or the terrible pacing and plot structure. They are all there and are barely worth my or your time.

A few good things about the book? In typically del Toro fashion, there's an emphasis on the ooey-gooey science bits. The plague and all it's grim effects are meticulously detailed, the way the body is consumed, the bits of disgusting that grow around the jaw, the various colors of spew these zombie-vampires hurl - all of its there, in glistening glory. Aside from that and an interesting take on how we as humans react to our loved ones becoming undead blood drinkers this book is kind of a wash. If you love del Toro or you love vampire stories try this one out, but don't expect the magic that I did. You'll cry yourself to sleep.

Too much work.

I'm swamped right now. My gators are on, I'm knee-deep in a gooey, shark-infested puddle of work, work, and more work.

Borderline frantic, sort of tied together with cheap tape and twine.

Thus, for today, you get another excuse. One day, I'll write about movies again.

This blog, Sunset Gun will sate you for a while, it always does.

A word on my side-quest to consume SPARTACUS (105)

I've been hankering to watch Stanley Kubrick's amazing Roman Epic Spartacus (105) for days now. Days. This can be a rarity for Criterion films, as much of the time I'm staring down the barrel of six hour Japanese romantic comedy (or something of its ilk) and though I usually find myself truly enjoying the film, it's a struggle to get that enjoyment ball rolling.

Not with Spartacus (105). This is a big, beautiful Kubrick movie, and I've seen bits of it in the past, and I can not wait to re-expose myself to the film as an older, more film-savvy gentleman. Then why might you ask have I not stopped everything and consumed the movie in one big sloppy gulp?

Three reasons:

1. It started with Alex's excitement about watching Spartacus (105). I'm pretty laissez faire when it comes to watching films. I'll pick at them in bits, squishing them in to the open spaces in my day, until their gone. I've actually wondered on many an occasion how this effects my final thoughts on a film, if I lose some aspect of the meaning and enjoyment from watching it in this way. Alex, literally my favorite person on Earth, got word of Spartacus (105) hurtling down the pipe and was consumed by excitement. But Alex doesn't want to watch the film in bite size chunks like me, she wants to immerse herself in Kubrick's Roman legions in one fell swoop. Thus dates were made, imaginary popcorn was popped, excitement built. But ...

2. Spartacus (105) is nearly four hours long. Yup, four hours of Kirk Douglas, shirtless, fighting off the Romans. Tickle me pink. Four hours isn't an egregious length for a film made before, hell, 1995. On average, film lengths have decreased thirty minutes to an hour over the last fifteen or so years as our internet addled brains have stopped being able to process "long form" films. But films prior to this were lengthy. Serious films dictated serious minutes, and short films, were often considered "pithy", better suited to comedy or romance. Thus, Kubrick's Roman opus, as serious as a heart attack, is a sweeping beast of a film. And devouring a four hour film isn't just something you sit down and do, it's day-eater and you have to have dedication and you have to have a chunk of your time to spend. Thus, we've made dates, but Alex and I are flighty and prone to forgetfulness, thus the four hour opus still sits in its beautiful little case on my desk.

3. Finally, we decided last night that we were going to give it a go. Make some popcorn, pop the flick in the old computer and watch a four hour wide-screened epic on my 14 inch laptop ... until Alex proposed that we wait until the end of the week, as we'll be house-sitting two beautiful homes, each equipped with enormous televisions. Um, yes. I will wait another two, three days for the glory that is Spartacus (105), so I can enjoy spearings and slave revolution on a forty-inch flat screen plasma.

Thus, my Quest, for a moment sits idle.

Oh and if you're curious Criterion just released their films for March. Does this make anyone else as excited as it does me?

Wednesday: A Cloony Twoony.

Brief respite.

I've got an immense amount of film to talk about.

Not even kidding loyal readers, I've been putting back cinema like it's All-You-Can-Eat Day at the pharmacy.

Sadly, I'm exhausted, it's late on a Monday and my plate is piled far too precariously high.

I'll be back tomorrow though, hopefully with the head of Spartacus (105) hanging from my belt.

Keep it virtual.

Tuesday: Either Spartacus (105), a Clooney Twooney, or Guillermo Del Toro sure is he glad he can make a great film.

What I'm Reading.

It's Friday! That means short and sweet and usually barely related to the Criterion Collection. This week I'm not even talking about movies! Take that pigeonholers! I'm a new man.

Turns out not only do I enjoy a cinematic romp, I'm also addicted to blogs. All sorts of them. Fashion blogs, design blogs, blog blogs - a whole skew of random websites that turn me on to a variety of shit that I could probably do without knowing.

Nonetheless, I thought, as long as I've got your attention, I'd share the tops that I've been reading.

Enjoy!

We Love You So

This blog originated as a sort of PR thang for Where The Wild Things Are run by Spike Jonze and a myriad of his ultra-talented friends. The movies out now, and sure there's still some Wild Things related posts, but mainly it's just a series of amazing entries about art, film, music, and design as curated by your way cooler old brother. I sometimes hide my computer from Alex when I'm looking at We Love You So because I'm embarrassed by the sweaty smile plastered on my face.

Raven Sings The Blues

Easily the best music site on the web. A mysterious stranger (seriously, I've tracked this person before with sled dogs and compasses to no avail) picks his/her favorite artist's new releases and exposes them to us, his devoted readers. I find nearly each and every bit of music he picks to be, if not enjoyable, entirely interesting. My love and collection of music has grown immensely due to this site's fantastic recommendations.

Aquarium Drunkard

Where Raven Sings The Blues is my one-stop shop for all things up-and-coming, Aquarium Drunkard is my musical library. I drop by this amazing site each and every day just to see what bit of obscure musical history they've tapped in to this time. It isn't always albums you've never heard of, but it's always a fantastic take, well informed and beautifully written. If Raven Sings The Blues strays more towards garage, cold-synth and weird and wacky, Aquarium Drunkard likes it's jukebox stuffed to the garters with good-old fashioned folk and rock 'n' roll.

Pacific Standard

Strath Shephard works with me over at Light In The Attic, and over the course of the last few months I've sort of addictively followed his blog. Shephard is a talented graphic designer (check the site, I swear) and used to own a long-gone favorite record label of mine in Seattle. Thus, the blog is a mish-mash of amazing graphic design, fashion, textography, photography, and, well, rap music. And never, never, miss out on your Weekly Dose of Mr. Littlejeans.

Motion/Captured

I used to be obsessive about film news. Literally hours of my day were spent perusing film sites hoping for new information on anything and everything I could get my grubby cyber-mitts on. These days I've followed my favorite film writer (Drew McWeeney) from the nerd-confines of Ain't It Cool News to the more filmically amazing world of Motion/Captured. McWeeney is a film-obsessive but one working within the film industry, thus his take on the pictures is both historically accurate, obsessively knowledgeable and steeped in industry know-what. A fantastic site for those who love talking about flicks.

The Criterion Collection

Best fucking old movie website on the interwebs. Hands down.

I'm busy, here's some TRAILERS.

I've got things to do, great important things, so instead of spending time writing anything, I present to you a bunch of trailers with my thoughts on these trailers.

Enjoy.

There's a new clip up for Disney's new foray in to 2-D animation, The Princess and The Frog and it seems, well, cheesy. But maybe the kind of cheese that tastes good on a rye cracker. This is the first 2-D film released with Pixar's John Lasseter at the head so I'm at least a little interested.

Lets keep it Disney. Worst idea ever: a re-imagining of The Sorcerer's Apprentice as a Bruckheimer fueled action flick starring Cpt. Wig Nicolas Cage and Jay Baruchel. The trailer makes it look, well, magical, but I'm guessing this is one for the bland-brained Midwestern set. Sadly, that means I'll probably see it.

Peter Jackson's Lovely Bones is hurtling in to theaters soon, and strangely I'd never got around to watching this trailer. I'd heard someone refer to it as What Dreams May Come Pt. 2 and sadly I get a similar feeling. Nonetheless, Jackson has an occasionally deft hand and I'm excited for anything he's doing post-LOTR.

Speaking of the big guns, Rob Marshall (Chicago) is dropping Nine this holiday season, his retelling of Federico Fellini's 8 1/2, and by trailer alone, I'm at least curious. This is one of the more superficially attractive casts of women perhaps ever assembled, and with Daniel Day-Lewis at forefront, I might actually jettison my hatred of all things musical-related to see it. Maybe.

That still took me forty-five minutes. Blast.

Friday: Audition