The Counselor

The Counselor is Too Messy for Its Own Good.

By Kristin Battestella

In hopes of permanently financing his jet setting lifestyle and indulging his new fiancée Laura (Penelope Cruz), the eponymous Michael Fassbender turns to drug dealing businessman Reiner (Javier Bardem) and his middleman Westray (Brad Pitt) to land the drug deal of all drug deals. Despite his conspirators’ warnings on how far in over his head he is, criminal coincidences with The Counselor’s current case Ruth (Rosie Perez), her Mexican cartel biker son The Green Hornet, and interference from Reiner’s wildcat girlfriend Malkina (Cameron Diaz) thrust The Counselor and all those around him into a dangerous, deadly game of cartel retaliation…

The Scripting

I finally settled in for a night with the theatrical cut of The Counselor, but this 2013 modern noir thriller from acclaimed writer Cormac McCarthy (No Country for Old Men) and director Ridley Scott (Alien, Gladiator) is muddled with much too much trite and obviousness vaguely disguised as cerebral commentary. From the slow, awkward sex scene and chop shop drug action interspersed with the opening credits to the plodding pace, undynamic metaphors, and waxing philosophical characters, nothing much happens in The Counselor until the last forty minutes. No character back stories and motivations are revealed in the heavy handed script; the threats from the anonymous drug cartel come too late and pull the rug out from under the danger when people are not so unexpectedly killed. A critical kidnapping that should have been the genesis of the piece happens far too late in The Counselor, and the overlong, seemingly backward story doesn’t have much going for it beyond the disconnected and redundant dialogue vignettes. I can forgive the undercooked drug deal particulars – it’s refreshing that any action heist elements are nearly a beside the point MacGuffin. In fact, we don’t need any drug action scenes at all if The Counselor is meant to be a psychological interplay and character piece. Unfortunately, the point of view among the characters is all over the place, and anonymous thefts, deaths, and shootouts from characters named “The Wireman,” “The Young Man,” “The Blonde,” “The Priest,” “The Buyer,” “The Diamond Dealer,” and “The Chauffer” contribute to the unrefined, confusing flab. 

In a novel, the reader trusts that all between the layers will be revealed, but the surprisingly mundane style of The Counselor doesn’t guarantee anything for the audience. The viewer is given no emotional cause to continue, and even something as simple as a phone conversation accentuates this distance. These talks could be an excuse to play with the filmmaking style, editing, or visual cohesion – change the design for each caller or make each a linear uniformity. Instead, some phone calls are intercut, others are unheard on one end, and some pretentious soliloquies are listened to by those in the next room. Is this a quibble or an uneven media treatment indicative of the un-thought out cinematic design of The Counselor? Why is this stunning cast literally phoning in these stilted skits? This ensemble could sit in an empty room and read the dictionary for a wild time, yet their collective wow goes unrealized. Instead of hearing “Counselor” every few minutes, Fassbender’s lawyer should have no title. Make his thinking he’s the shit an intriguing subtly ala Layer Cake – just because he doesn’t know he’s crossed the line doesn’t mean the audience is so unaware. For all this wordiness, The Counselor doesn’t say very much. Religion versus sex? The drug business is a religion? Love is a beheading? These potential examinations, supposed shock values, and crime dangers don’t register with the audience because we aren’t given all the pieces until after the fact, if at all. Leaving things for the viewer to figure out is one thing, but plot holes and having your story take place at the wrong point in time are not highbrow. I didn’t expect The Counselor to be a standard, violent, action caper. I expected high drama and emotional depth but spent more time pausing, analyzing who was who, and wondering why I was wasting my time, for the answer to who was going to come out on top was so pathetically obvious compared to any emotional journey The Counselor or the audience is supposed to have.

The Fassbender

Speaking of that lawyer who’s called by his courtroom courtesy minute to minute, Michael Fassbender’s incompetent Counselor is apparent from the moment he doesn’t know which fancy diamond is which. If he were swindled on the gem, would he have even known? This over his head symbolism is given in the first fifteen minutes of a film that spends the rest of its run time repeatedly reiterating how in over his head The Counselor is. His head is under the covers, his head is between Laura’s legs, he presses a client about hats; this dude harbors a rainy cloud over his parade and everyone sees it but him. We get it. Why not show how this pedestrian lawyer came to love the high life? Let’s see him cross that unlawful line and greedy point instead of telling us nothing we don’t already know. We see his legalese job but once so the viewer can’t appreciate any shady underbelly contrast or allure. How does he know these crooks? Why are these drug dealers warning him so kindly if they pressed him to get so involved? The Counselor is a risky, unlikeable, untrustworthy protagonist who balks at his court appointed client. He wants to prove his power over his case, but in that swagger he ignores obvious clues to his undoing – like a speeding motorcyclist who was caught carrying $12,000. We don’t need to know his name. However, without any details beyond what a piss poor, unable to read people lawyer he is, The Counselor’s supposedly important relationship with Laura becomes unbelievable, insincere, and suspect. He didn’t mind putting her at risk when he was actively doing something nefarious, yet The Counselor grows scared once the cartel is coming after him because of Shakespearean coincidence? The criminal turns in which The Counselor finds himself will not surprise today’s audiences, and combined with the cliché outcome for this couple, there isn’t much else to deduce beyond the irony of him not knowing he’s in the proverbial horror movie patheticness. 

The Counselor is the first real misstep from the Oscar nominated Fassbender (Shame, Twelve Years A Slave, X-Men: Days of Future Past). With so shoddy a script, it’s as if The Counselor is supposed to get by on Fassbender’s seemingly charming portrayal of an overly asinine version of himself. He should be able to carry a gritty, despairing crime thriller on his own, but for a talented actor who usually slips so seamlessly into his character’s skin, Fassbender looks strangely uncomfortable and out of his element here – just like his character. His voice is slightly different, an in and out British or American accent changed from scene to scene regardless of jet setting location or his Bar association. We hardly spend enough time with Fassbender to enjoy the tailored Armani suits, strut, and cropped hair. He looks cool, but he’s trying too hard to be cool and over compensates with his chiseled ponder as The Counselor listens or ignores as needed. Is the point of The Counselor this hollow or weak register? Why would the viewer care if this shallow fool gets his comeuppance with no reflection on what has happened? The Sopranos would have dealt with this eponymous screw up by proxy a lot sooner! Will this whole episode break The Counselor, force him to live with what has happened or have him fall on his Roman sword? Did he really expect to get away with this escapade? The audience knows this is all his fault, but again, the story before and after the movie would have been more compelling to see. Fassbender gives his stunning best efforts in his final few scenes, but it’s simply too little too late to save The Counselor.

The Couple

Not only is it obvious she is pregnant despite the usual film trickery, but how is it possible to make Oscar winner Penelop Cruz (Vicky Christina Barcelona) so seemingly juvenile, dense, and un-hot? The opening scene with Fassbender is not just not sexy, but laughable. “Touch me down there?” Seriously? For so verbose a script claiming to be so solemn and edgy, The Counselor tries to be scandalous without using any dirty words. Laura’s chemistry with The Counselor feels fake with a poor, high school-esque marriage proposal. If this relationship allegedly brings them both such purity and glee, then why does he think he must obtain wealth and go illegal for her? Yet again, the audience has no indication of her background or demand for such criminal desperation. Did the sweet, innocent, church going Laura escape from a cartel lifestyle? Is she poor? How did they meet? What’s this angel doing at the spa with the vixen Malkina ignorant how much her diamond ring cost? Laura is apparently made deliberately clueless of any crookedness and unheard during a ridiculously chaste phone sex scene, yet she knows how to quickly form a get out of Dodge plan when things hit the fan. Any emotional feel in The Counselor comes through Laura, but her motivation for being in this one sided, noticeably unhealthy relationship goes unexplained. Is she written as that dumb? Because Laura doesn’t get a free pass for being so duped, and the high price for her innocence is pitifully evident through the course of the film, again taking any shock and awe away from the viewer.  

Likewise, Cruz’s real life husband and fellow Oscar winner Javier Bardem (No Country for Old Men, Skyfall) is used and abused in what feels like a farce or parody performance. Why the wild hair? Why the esoteric over-analysis on how money makes women make the world go round? Sometimes this deal is good, but more often than not such loon for poon will come back to bite you in the ass? Who didn’t know this or already learned it the hard way? Reiner didn’t get his education from that car sex scene? Why prod The Counselor to get involved only to warn him he’s deathly in deep? Surely with that flashy style and party pad no one thinks Reiner is a legitimate businessman, but everyone in The Counselor is this same kind of talkative, philosophical friend with no real cause for such wisdom. Reiner’s talk of being scared by yet in love with Malkina practically gives the whole picture away – if it wasn’t already beaten over the audience’s head before the gynecology gone awry car encounter. He asks The Counselor what he’s going to do yet he keeps telling him what he should do and neither sees what’s right in front of them as clear as that sticky windshield. Why didn’t we see all this development action then? Why isn’t The Counselor showing us anything now? We meet all the characters at the wrong point in time. What happened before? What happens next? If you’re going to tell the viewer what we already know instead of showing us the genesis and the pathos of this tragedy, then why are we watching?

The Diaz

I know Cameron Diaz (Being John Malkovich, There’s Something About Mary) has Cuban ancestry and proper ethnic flavor is one of the few things The Counselor gets right. Unfortunately, Malkina speaks in riddles just to screw with people, her Spanish quips feel off kilter, and that iffy accent completes the edgy, trying too hard to be bad girl via Barbados miss. Why the cheetahs, cat print tattoos and clothes? One or two suggestions, sure, but too many caged, cat, wild, wildcat, pussy, and insatiable primal references beat the viewer over the head again in The Counselor. Why does Malkina want to corrupt Laura? How did they become friends? The forced, latent lesbian, supposedly sexy spa scene is not just awkward, but pointless – the viewer never sees these women together before or after the salon. Just because their men don’t see it, The Counselor doesn’t need these two women to briefly interact for the viewer to connect the saint and sinner contrast. Malkina’s embarrassing trip to the confessional tells us she’s bad, and she certainly says it enough, too. Attempts at either deflection or overselling her naughty – like the car scene and Reiner’s whipped nature – aren’t intimidating, tantalizing, or funny. Malkina dicks men over for her own gain, and The Counselor does everything but play Hall & Oats’ “Maneater” in the background. Diaz does her best, but the she’s so bad is laid on so over the top that any turnabout or surprise is compromised. Is something woman hating being said in all these men missing the catfish, too gynecological, hunter chewing up her prey ala vagina dente implications? Even if the audience somehow misses all these evident cat clues, are we supposed to be empowered by this femme fatale victory at the expense of the saintly woman cliché?  Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, sex, drugs, and rock n roll shrugs The Counselor.

The Pitt et al

Though it takes a half hour for Brad Pitt to appear, at least he gets to keep his own voice as Westray – because he’s Brad Pitt. Of course, more symbolism is hammered home in his white suit and cowboy hat style, and it becomes increasingly frustrating to watch The Counselor when yet another character is basically introduced to tell Mr. Titular the same thing as everyone else in similar cryptic, overlong soliloquy fashion. Honestly, it isn’t foreshadowing if you are in public talking about snuff films before a little old lady waitress. The moment these things are mentioned, they must occur. What’s a bolito you say? Why here it is, ba donk a donk. What little suspense in connecting the dots The Counselor gives is continually compromised by its lack of an emotional crux, and Westray is largely an unnecessary information dump of round about, Rube Goldberg, butterfly on a wheel giveaways. We only see Pitt in a handful of scenes, and with a few tweaks, this middleman character could have been removed without much further damage to the picture. Again, in written fiction, this sort of go to for the scoop financial source can come and go, but not in film. Likewise, budding it girl Natalie Dormer (The Tudors, Game of Thrones, The Hunger Games) had one of her deleted scenes released for The Counselor’s marketing campaign – but it was better than what survived the film proper! How is a character introduced with fifteen minutes left, unknowingly caught up in the heavy, and then given a change of heart so fast? Rosie Perez (Fearless, White Men Can’t Jump) is also treated to this ‘insert someone here’ vibe as a stereotypically sassy Latina inmate with a troublesome biker kid who offers The Counselor a bj to square up on a fine. It’s actually a bit depressing to see so many talented and acclaimed players used and abused in The Counselor. Most of the ensemble has one or two scenes each and half of them have no fricking names! Too Wong Foo? I’d like to order John Leguizamo for the final twenty minutes please. Thanks! ER? Goran Visnjic for the finale. Stat!

The Design

Early Dutch hints, fine Spanish flavor, and Mexico moods add a sense of global place for The Counselor – sunsets and vistas contrast with ancient, wet Amsterdam concrete to establish the high and low. Yet once again, there is an inconsistency in the style of The Counselor. The Spanish isn’t always translated and some of the slang will confuse those who don’t know the language. The interior scenes are dark, the framing for the photography during drug conversations is deliberately shadowed, and the digital color gradient continues the redundant parallels by accentuating the purity of white statues or sheets. Scenes with Laura – always in a white coat or pale clothing – are bright and well lit, but the daytime outdoor locales are also overly rich and saturated in color to the point of feeling flat. In what could be such a cultured, vibrant, and layered landscape, The Counselor looks like just any other film. Is this meant to be an abstract criminal limbo underlying so close to the real world? Then why not add more haze, visual illusion? The few gruesome but tame scenes don’t highlight the drug underworld as they should, and any parallel imagery is textbook apparent rather than dynamic. I want to like original film rather than ad nauseam remakes and sequels, but The Counselor needed another run through, someone to step back and realize where the flabby patterns and un-snappy editing impede the cinematic mandates. Brief flashbacks serve no purpose, and what should be a visually titillating and mentally stimulating picture ends up with neither. I hate being harsh – I feel my own reviewing is ironic in its redundancy – but the best part of The Counselor may have been Michael Fassbender’s winking pause at the poster of the classic Steve McQueen. Otherwise, The Counselor wanders aimlessly like that poor, overly metaphoric cheetah left to roam in the desert.

The Audience

I expected to see the Unrated Extended Cut of The Counselor, but the Netflix rental blu-ray is only a bare bones Theatrical edition with much needed subtitles. At first, I had to compare the run times and check the listings of extended and additional scenes not in my viewing to assure that this long and dry two hours was indeed the shorter cinematic release. All the times today’s cut up television or a 90-minute film needed just a bit more time, explanation, and character development, yet The Counselor’s pedestrian pace, characters, and look proves why film going attention spans can no longer endure a picture near two hours or more. Not only are viewers over accustomed to spoon-fed popcorn shallow, but to swing the pendulum here toward muddled, thinly drawn esoteric rants seems cruel. This film won’t make a lot of sense to unschooled audiences yet insults the intelligence of the refining viewer. Maybe you have to be able to laugh with The Counselor, see new commentaries on your tenth viewing amid a drinking game? Truly one does need to see this picture more than once to clear up any initial confusions, but the despair, pitiless people, and stupid mistakes here aren’t anything we haven’t seen before The Counselor. This criminal material has been done better with lesser onscreen and off clout – the first-rate Essex Boys comes to mind – making this movie more of a big disappointment than anything else. The bleak here is so phoned in, divisive of itself, and superficial; the talking heads use star power to veil the obviously thin B grade plot, clearly unmotivated characters, mediocre drug angles, and undercooked story. Were there obligated commitments to appear or back door contracts coercing these A-listers to take part? Familiarity between the cast and crew and their previous collaborations alone should have made The Counselor enjoyable. Did the tragic passing of Ridley Scott’s brother and fellow director Tony Scott cloud the production? I dare say I’d love to see this same cast and team again with more worthy meat and film focus.

Ultimately, the takes too long obvious, pedestaled and vilified women, disconnected dialogue, apathetic players, and premature story of The Counselor just tries too darn hard. One can read this kind of slow conversation and page turning analysis, but the distant cartel dangerous never registers onscreen thanks to the witnessing of superior crime pictures and little new wisdoms in the pretentious here. Although fans of the cast will enjoying their preferred guys and gals in their respective scene chewing snippets, The Counselor never stop hitting the audience over the head with wordy we already know. Indeed, movie lovers can find better heist pictures, crime dramas, or action films that give the audience what it wants, serves the plot, and their characters’ storytelling needs without so much… ostentatious absurdity.

Two Lon Chaneys List Post!

A Tale of Two Chaneys List Post!

By Kristin Battestella

Tonight we’re discussing that lovably scary Father and Son duo Lon and Lon Chaney, Jr.!

The Hunchback of Notre Dame – Editions and runtimes for this 1923 silent classic based upon the Victor Hugo ode vary, of course. Jumping film and damaged footage, however, do not interfere with the surprisingly delightful cathedral production values, and the score matches the sweeping or tender as needed. Though long, complex, potentially confusing, and not for everyone, the tale here is well paced. Time is taken to establish the cultural backdrop, scope of events, and all characters – be they rich, poor, religious, decadent, revered, or reviled. Reels tinted green, yellow, blue, and purple for bittersweet flashbacks are also pleasing to see, as is the magnificent make up done by the eponymous Lon Chaney. The hump, shabby coat, gruesome face, and impressive, physically bent performance – Lon Senior’s switch from tender at hearing the church bells to spitting, rageful violence, and hanging from gargoyles is both repulsive and pitiful yet so fascinating to watch. Quasimodo is a wronged creature who does villainous and redemptive acts at the same time, and Chaney is wonderfully emotive yet subtle compared to the often seen over the top silent style. Unrecognizable Lon lets our own heart and helplessness fill in the inhumane, and the tale’s saucy suggestions and lusty turns make for some suspense and one or two proto-horror styled scenes amid the injustice. We’re talking about a film from almost a hundred years ago – a historical costume epic and shocking blockbuster with a wild finish – but the ugly examination on those that use, mock, torment, and abuse Quasimodo are what makes this story so long lasting. Today’s viewers will quickly notice some obvious social statements, redemption, Christ-like imagery, and saintly roles, but the combined symbolism and core depth here is still darn good stuff.  

Lon Chaney: Behind the Mask – Rare, unseen silent film footage, vintage photos and clips, charming family home movies, and archive interviews with co-stars and crew anchor this 76 minute 1995 documentary illuminating the Man of a Thousand Faces. From early bit parts to his iconic horror heights, the pain, emotion, and melodramatic catharsis of his tragic portrayals is examined against Chaney’s stanch need for privacy amid the fame orchestrated Hollywood system.  Collaborations with director Tod Browning are highlighted, and quotes on the craft from the man himself are smartly reiterated – wisdoms on how to utilize makeup or character flaws to accentuate the performance and create redemption in villainous roles. Of course, the presentation focuses on The Hunchback of Notre Dame and The Phantom of the Opera but ends somewhat suddenly with Chaney’s death rather than any retrospective summation or legacy. Fortunately, there are lots of behind the scenes snippets, photographs, and factoids, for it’s really quite sad to realize how much of Chaney’s work is gone – over 30% of his films have vanished. 56 lost pictures – that’s more movies than some people today make in their entire lifetimes! The dated nineties design, uneven editing, jumping back and forth timeline, and a very dry narration don’t quite hit home here. However, this informative presentation remains classroom ready and will delight new film enthusiasts, longtime Chaney fans, and horror historians.

By The Sun’s Rays – This ten-minute 1914 western is Chaney’s earliest remaining work and thus is included with the Lon Chaney: Behind the Mask documentary. Certainly, it looks poor now, with a jumping picture and obvious damaged, but let’s give the magic of having a hundred year old movie a pass, shall we? This one is surprisingly well done for the time thanks to interior and exterior filming and unique binocular camera effects, but Chaney is already showing his slick as a double dealing clerk in on the gang’s gold heists. He’s so adept at standing out in the background as he nevertheless subtly listens for the latest shipment news or a good time to pocket the paperwork – or swipe a kiss from the dames. Ironically, the ladies are dressed in their of the time, pre-war Edwardian best rather than the Victorian or Old West attire the plot requires. Didn’t their mothers have some appropriately then recently old-fashioned designs handy in their closets? Fortunately, the nice horsemanship, carriage chases, and suspense music make for a dandy, thrilling little finish. 

Spider Baby – Talk about an awkward dinner table! Lon Chaney Jr. sings the catchy little song matching the opening cartoon titles of this bizarre 1964 family cannibalism tale written and directed by Jack Hill (Coffy, Foxy Brown). Though the introduction seems slow to start – we only have 80 minutes and it takes too long for all the players to arrive on the scene – the ominous drive to the decrepit Victorian house, crazy knife killings, and cut off ears establish the twistedness. Quirky beatnik music, mellow pace, and low quality black and white photography belie the increasing suspense as those incoming ruthless cousins explore the house at their own peril. Our older, aged Creighton with the sweet Hearst seems like a reasonable, loyal caregiver yet he’s harboring a trio of seriously demented killers. The titular Jill Banner (The President’s Analyst) and her sister Beverly Washburn (Old Yeller) would seem to live quietly in peace – so long as no kids hop their fence or mailmen knock on their door that is. Internal references to classic horror film clichés and The Wolf Man add to this witty whiff of comedy, but veiled statements about trying not to be bad, being unable to help one’s behavior, or possibly not knowing any better perfectly contrast the humor and the ironic, supposedly normal but snotty and infiltrating rival family branch. Society vilifies the sick or ill it can’t understand, and the contorted and creepy to see yet innocent and tragic Sid Haig (House of 1,000 Corpses) initially has our sympathies. Of course, when the disturbia turns kinky, we know why these people remain under lock and key. Along with the scandalous inbreeding, cannibalism, family murder, black garter belts, and intriguing commentaries, the not for the feline faint of heart scene, eerie dumbwaiter uses, crawling spiders, and the general dementedness of seeing older people act like evil kids sets the bar for future macabre domestic horror pictures.

For all of our Lon Sr. and Lon Jr. Reviews, feel free to browse this handy list!

Jr.

Ghost of Frankenstein

The Wolf Man
House of Frankenstein

The Mummy’s Curse

House of Dracula

Bride of the Gorilla

The Black Castle

The Black Sleep

The Haunted Palace

Witchcraft
Gallery of Horrors

Dracula vs. Frankenstein

Spider Baby

Heroes of Horror

Sr.

By the Sun’s Rays

Oliver Twist

The Light of Faith

The Unknown
The Monster

London After Midnight

The Phantom of the Opera

The Hunchback of Notre Dame

Lon Chaney: Behind the Mask

Republic of Tea Book of Tea and Herbs

Republic of Tea Book of Tea and Herbs a Charming, Informative Read

By Kristin Battestella

I picked up The Republic of Tea: The Book of Tea and Herbs – Appreciating The Varietals and Virtues of Fine Tea and Herbs second hand and quickly dipped into this 150 pages of tea definitions, history, production, and witty perfect for any cup connoisseur.

The Book of Tea and Herbs is broken down into easy to follow sections for a swift read thru or a hunt and peck reference guide thanks to its itemized table of contents and index. Sometimes, “An Introduction to the Plant, the Leaf, and the Manufacture of Tea” may be too technical for younger readers in its explanations of tea separation, grading, and production – I doubt many Americans realize the complex process and its treasured practices. However, the team from The Republic of Tea’s “Ministry of Information” gives The Book of Tea and Herbs a clever and bemusing laymen style. Though this is the basics of tea vernacular, the sophisticated tea topics are streamlined with historical timelines and experiences across cultures and locations in “Tea History, Culture, and Customs” and medicinal tales are told in “Tea and Well Being.” Excellent explanations on the types of teas and which blends go together with what spices or foods are given with fun taste descriptions and flavorful herb definitions.

While the entire book can be read as one informative textbook or as a grab guide and reference, the Tea and Herb sections themselves feel unevenly presented. Certainly there is enough material for The Book of Tea and Herbs to be about one or the other topic, and though serviceable in informing on both, the “Herbs in History, Myth, and Lore” and “A Guide to Botanicals” chapters of the manual feel shorter or slightly less in depth than the seemingly more beloved Tea section. The Tea segments are well written in complete paragraphs with historical references, antidotal stories, and cited sources. The Herb chapters, however, read more like dictionary entries with undefined sentences, confusing wording, and poor punctuation that sometimes makes one read over more than once. It’s as if different writers or style editors from the “Ministry of Information” helmed the sections without comparing notes. Is the Tea Section meant as a fun read or quotable source? Was the Herbal guide a tacked on quick definition go to guide or was it too meant for something more?

Fortunately, the hand drawn illustrations are charming works you’d expect to see in a medieval apothecary source rather than a modern tome such as The Book of Tea and Herbs. Such appeal indeed matches the historically informative and storytelling style of the Tea chapters, but would real photographs have anchored the more reference check encyclopedic design of the Herb section better? Again, the attempted long lasting appeal at being both a read and reference to both tea and herbs compromises some of the picture potential here. However, extensive photographic documentation would have also made The Book of Tea and Herbs a much larger, more expensive book. Several pages of bibliography and further reading thankfully springboard readers to additional materials both of historical note and modern use.

The Book of Tea and Herbs is of course dated to its 1993 publication year and statistics and trends have almost certainly changed since its release. Coupled with its flawed dual design, this is truly not a definitive guide to its titular subjects. Fortunately, the company’s tongue in cheek quotes and “Minister of Leaves” references sprinkled throughout each chapter are a welcome quirk. So often today we probably expect advertising and ulterior motives to be hand in hand with certain materials, but The Book of Tea and Herbs is blessedly not a sales catalogue for the Republic of Tea company or their products. On the contrary, the pleasant tone and reference information here can still fill a place on the kitchen bookshelf for the long time ‘tea totaler’ or a newcomer to the “Republic of Tea.” The Book of Tea and Herbs may be a little tough to find and ultimately not an all encompassing source, but this is an affordable, educational catalyst to further tea readings and bemusements.

More Family Friendly Fantasy and Science Fiction

More Family Friendly Science Fiction and Fantasy Delights

By Kristin Battestella

It’s so tough for family audiences to find intriguing but no less fun and wholesome programming these days, so here’s a sampling of edgy science fiction, magical fantasy, classic adventure, and educational entertainment for one and all.

 

Absolon – Christopher Lambert (Highlander), Lou Diamond Phillips (La Bamba), and a perfectly nasty Ron Perlman (Hellboy) lead this 2003 science fiction thriller set in a then futuristic but post apocalyptic 2010. The ozone layer is gone, plagues are afoot, economy has collapsed – opening inter titles and book end narrations go for a slow, lofty touch with this back story, but it’s a little pretentious and unnecessary considering the subsequent investigation, video evidence, and witness explanations tell the audience what we need to know. The technology is both on par with today – slim screens, flat keyboards, warrants on jump drives, keyless entry – and stagnant apocalypse leftovers and passé production – mini discs, big PCs, bad holograms, and weird transitional effects. The woeful cop style, wild hair colors, and trying to be future hip fashion, however, stinks; superfluous music, over the top action, ridiculous gunfights, slo-mo and/or hyper speed interfere with fine multi level chases and dangerous, ticking clock deadlines. There’s also an excessive amount of blue décor, paint, and clothing, but yellow and white lighting and red contrast appear as needed while askew, overhead, and angled filming creates a noir mood. This dirty, cheap look highlights the bitter realism of allotted hot water reserves and automated time to take the titular drug announcements. Today our smartphone would beep, sure, and corrupt pharmaceuticals or owned governments controlling the population thru measured or privileged essentials is not a new SF concept. However, these ideas remain intriguing. Do we take the drug, live a calculated existence, and leave the unsaved behind? Or does science move forward in finding a true, free cure for all? Granted, Lambert’s accent is always apparent and he tends to play the same cop characters, yet his sardonic, on the case action works with the simmering suspense editing. The ladies, unfortunately, try too hard to be sassy scientists or hardened detectives – screaming or competent as needed – while Phillips and the secondary cops are too hammy and obvious. The low budget entrappings and a potentially cliché ending hamper the sophisticated statements, but the so bad its good nineties thriller feeling keeps this one watchable. Humor and sarcasm lift the intensity or techno babble and though rated R, intelligent audiences will enjoy the decidedly non-CGI or PG-13 stifled science fiction here.

Dragon’s World: A Fantasy Made Real – Unlike their recent ridiculous dead mermaid conspiracy shows, this 2004 documovie from Animal Planet makes its “never existed” premise quite plain from the start – what would be the science behind dragons? Sweeping music, animated charm, real animal footage, lovely natural photography, and a heartfelt story from dinosaur extinction to medieval battles anchor the touching Ian Holm voiceover and modern archaeology supposition. Defensive postures, maternal calls, fire breathing possibilities, flight dynamics, family tree evolution, even territorial fights and monogamy are theorized with tender, bittersweet respect as we are informed as well as entertained. What evidence of dragons could remain? What scientific proof would be definitive? Sure, the tone is juvenile or dated at times; the acting and scripted narration scenes are slightly pretentious, too. The back and forth bouncing from time and place between the prehistoric dragon recreations and contemporary paleontology rediscovery is also uneven, and I prefer the awe and inevitable blaze of glory of the dragon animation plot more. The audience can loose interest in the meandering, and perhaps a two part linear special would have better developed both paths. Fortunately, the mystery, discovery, and wonder of it all food for thought manner comes across delightfully compared to today’s increasingly preposterous type of Ancient Aliens pseudo history. Of course, thanks to this mix of once reputed educational networks airing such sensational or fantastical content, you must reiterate to kids that this isn’t real. Some scary hunting and death sequences may upset younger viewers, too, but fanciful folks and science minds of all ages can enjoy this intriguing “what if.”

 

The People that Time Forgot – Amicus, AIP, and director Kevin Connor follow up The Land that Time Forgot with this 1977 Edgar Rice Burroughs sequel starring the perfectly yummy Patrick Wayne (Big Jake) and Sarah Douglas (Superman II). Sure, this one’s slow to start with lots of walking and back-story on the team’s search for lost predecessor Doug McClure. Some of the dinosaur effects are very, very iffy, the plot holes are confusing, the evil cavemen makeup is bad, and there’s some weird, stereotypically cult folk and would be kinky sacrifices, too. Fortunately, Douglas has some goofy Princess Leia buns hair, and ridiculously pretty and well groomed cave babe singer Dana Gillespie speaks in weird speaketh, you know, just to keep the prehistoric education authentic. Despite all these fun flaws, I think I like this one more than the first film thanks to the relatively tame but no less campy humor, witty banter, and bemusing relationships. The post-Edwardian designs, early cameras, ships, and biplanes create a nautical adventure atmosphere and period fantasy pleasures, and sometimes I wish we still had more of that kind of marveling attitude instead of high tech reality. Although today’s audiences can spot the obvious faux arctic scenery, the real landscapes combine with the miniatures and special effects and actually look quite nice for the era, and the crazy, multi level, volcanic finale keeps young and old alike rooting for the delightful finish.

The Scarlet Pimpernel – It’s been awhile since I read Emma Orczy’s rip-roaring adventure, but this spirited 1982 adaptation starring Anthony Andrews (Brideshead Revisited), Jane Seymour (Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman), and Ian McKellan (X-Men and Lord of the Rings) wonderfully captures the Vive la France atmosphere with pony tails, frock coats, and frilly collars – and that’s just the men! We can forgive the decidedly British accents thanks to top-notch candlelight, colorful interiors, period locales, and charming music that feels classically old yet whimsical. From shabby peasantry to feathered finery, the ladies’ big hat heights and eighties hair are amusingly fitting and perfectly in keeping with the over the top flirting, roguish charisma, and humor belying the serious guillotine action. Andrews captures the 18^th century dual identity Don Diego charade with prissy fashion criticisms, ridiculous inflection, and bad poetry– he can’t possibly be suspected as the titular superhero in disguise. Because he’s such a badass elder statesmen today, it’s surprising to see Sir Ian young and dark haired, too, but we dislike his stuffy suave since he is both a fool at hero Percy’s expense and still a no less devious politician. This witty Robin Hood topsy-turvy satire – we’re rooting for the guy in the hammy disguises who’s helping the aristocrats flee the Revolution, after all – still works despite some pretentious editing or plot confusion. Without subtitles or a break in the DVD, this 2 hours and 22 minutes could be a dry examination of who’s spying on whom, which Marque is which, and who’s in who’s in league. Today’s audiences aren’t used to intrigue done thru conversation, fencing, or carriage chases rather than insane fight choreography, stunts, and beheadings galore, and being familiar with the history or literature does help the viewing. Fortunately, the scale here is both intimate amid the triumvirate and still Republic sweeping. One wants to read up and dive in for the built in suspense, societal ups and downs, and romantic adventure.

 

Snow White: The Fairest of Them All –Miranda Richardson and Kristin Kreuk lead Clancy Brown (Highlander), Vera Farminga (Up in the Air), Warwick Davis (Willow), Tom Irwin (My So-Called Life), Vincent Schiavelli (Ghost), and Michael J. Anderson (Twin Peaks) in this very bright and vibrant 2001Brothers Grimm adaptation from ABC and Hallmark. Red and white photography, outdoor scenery, storybook carriages, and a playful design accent the whiff of humor and hints of quirky while colorful costumes, medieval interiors, and unique makeup further the fantasy perfection. The parental back story makes for an interesting underlying darkness and bittersweet or even creepy opportunities more in keeping with the Grimm source. Perhaps Richardson has played similar villainess parts in Merlin and Sleepy Hollow, but she’s just so gosh darn good at it! Tyron Leitso (Dinotopia) is a blessedly brief and insignificant prince, but Kreuk (Smallville) is simply too young to be the central character when Richardson’s Elspeth is more interesting.  Although the sentimentality and convenient magic may be tough for the older viewers hoping for more maturity, some deaths and scares here may be too upsetting for youngsters so keep the Disney cartoon classic for them. I’ve enjoyed almost all of producer, co-writer, and director Caroline Thompson’s (Edward Scissorhands, Black Beauty, The Nightmare Before Christmas) penned and/or helmed projects, and I do wish she did more pictures. A few of the special effects and weird scene transitions here are dated or unnecessary and some of the dialogue is confusing without subtitles, but this hour and half is a pleasant little tale compared to some of the recent Snow White misfires.

Chasing Mavericks

Chasing Mavericks a Topsy Turvy but Touching Little Film

By Kristin Battestella

I confess, I’ve watched the 2012 Jay Moriarity surfing biopic Chasing Mavericks numerous times in numerous parts and only once or twice all the way through. You see, it isn’t that it’s a bad film – quite the contrary as far as young sports dramas go – but I just find the waves, music, and water imagery very relaxing and always fall asleep. I think it’s an Aquarius thing.

Young Jay (Jonny Weston) is saved from drowning along the Santa Cruz shore by his neighbor and local surfer Frosty Hesson (Gerard Butler). Jay likes to time the waves and learns to surf with his friend Blond (Devin Crittenden), but after secretly following Frosty and watching him surf the massive Mavericks wave, Jay begs Frosty to train him. With the encouragement of his wife Brenda (Abigail Spencer), Frosty teaches Jay his surfing wisdoms. Jay works hard at school and work, helps his single mother Kristy (Elisabeth Shue), and pursues childhood friend Kim (Leven Rambin) while forming a fatherly bond with Frosty and making ready to tame the waves.

Though not a lot of people have probably heard of Chasing Mavericks, I imagine those who have ask one question: Curtis Hanson worked on this? L.A. Confidential director Curtis Hanson? Due to illness, Michael Apted (Coal Miner’s Daughter) came on to co-direct with Hanson, and the somewhat uneven drama is reflected in the dual direction. Touching familial relationships seem cut short while some of the teeny bopper scenes go on for too long. Is this a teen sports movie with something more or a family drama that happens to have surfing? Chasing Mavericks never seems to make up its mind. Though some characters are underdeveloped or inserted as needed, obvious allegorical possibilities – everyone has a lot going on under the surface but nobody lets their feelings out except when riding the waves – are no less meaningful. The script from Kario Salem (Don King: Only in America) has some very poignant moments as well with fear versus panic realizations and learning how you perform on the water as the measure for when things go wrong in life. The voiceovers do lay it on a little thick, but most sports movies are overly sentimental amid the badassery anyway. Could Chasing Mavericks have been better by focusing even more on dramatic relationships and family angst before teen clichés? Perhaps. The vision may be slightly muddled, but I like that this is a PG presentation that didn’t go for gung ho edgy sex or teen abuses. Death and vice issues are there for sure, but Chasing Mavericks does its best by sticking to its heart rather than giving into sensationalism as so many films often do.

Unevenness quibbles aside; Chasing Mavericks is a good-looking film. The above and below surfing and water photography is wonderfully, well, fluid and colorful while lovely aerial shots and landscape cinematography capture the insurmountable scope of the ocean and nature’s peril. Old technology like radios and typewriters, pen and paper, letters, maps, drawings, and artwork along with the slightly poorer looking homes, locales, old cars and crappy vans, bikes, and skateboards contrast the beautiful beaches, waves, and rocks. Heck, look at those old $20 dollar bills! Granted, these are more obviously parallel visualizations, but the style looks appropriately period instead of just today’s easy retroactive nineties cool impression. The traditionally neon board colors and water gear, however, are a lot more fun to see than this modern teal and orange saturated and digitally tinted palette. The orange coloring is dang ridiculous at times, making both the fake tans and sunburn more apparent, and patchy, poorly lit interiors are too dark compared to the bright and beautiful outdoors. Instrumental training montages, slow motion, and surfing awe orchestration may be too syrupy at times, but that fits the surfer Zen themes, soothing bubbles, and rippling water sounds. Those teen wow surfing or skateboarding pop music interludes, unfortunately, do come off as dated and cliché. We get the El Nino explanations nowadays, too, but seriously, where’s the dang boss at that shameful pizza parlor?!  

On a totally superficial note, uber Gerard Butler fans will like his tight wet suit look. Strangely, however, I think he is wearing his own clothes in some scenes, for it seems like we’ve seen him in the same ugly sweaters and dirty shirts off camera. Thankfully, the lighter, shaggy hair and scruffy style fits the late eighties/early nineties surfer dude part. Butler (300) is still very handsome in certain scenes, and of course, he gets wet a lot, yet the older, shabby persona and accessories like reading glasses make for a refreshingly unglamorous and real portrayal. Unfortunately, the blondish hair color does not suit him, and Butler looks haggard, thin, and drawn or puffy, dilated, and out of it from scene to scene. His accent is not just off, but his voice seems weak, strained as if he can’t deliver his lines without slurring – well, slurring more than his usually charming brogue. Ironically, this washed out design works in specific scenes, and Frosty comes across as genuine, tough lived guy who knows the water thanks to some great quips and wry wisdoms such as “Thou shalt not ding Frosty’s board or damage thy neighbor’s car.” Frosty’s onscreen stance about people not being ready to surf big waves, however, is also ironic, considering Butler himself wasn’t a surfer before the movie and the toll from his on set hold down and other pains or health issues shows in Chasing Mavericks. Nonetheless, Gerry provides one or two excellent near tearful moments and all the heartfelt range needed. He’s producing here, and the film is clearly paternal and personal to him. I give him a tough time I know, but I applaud Butler for not going after some comedy or action hot hot hot in Chasing Mavericks and I wish he did more purely dramatic character roles with this kind of merit. Jonny Weston (John Dies at the End) has some of that weird, curly eighties hair, too, but he fits this touching real life role well. Jay’s young but mature and wise beyond his years thanks to a tough, relatable life, and Weston brings the open attitude and inspirational reaching out to others good vibes. He matches Butler’s fatherly pillars as Jay encourages Frosty in the two-way male bonding. Their story has the built in dramatic twists and turns required and their familial scenes in Chasing Mavericks are the best.

 

Abigail Spencer (Angela’s Eyes) has her own real life surfing family history but unfortunately, she isn’t given much to do except passive aggressively complain about Frosty’s surfing behind his wife’s back. We see him giving up surfing opportunities and doing his carpentry with Jay like he is supposed to do so her motivations can feel somewhat hollow or too back and forth. If she feels their marriage is on the rocks and that he doesn’t pay attention to their kids, why does she push him to accept his father figure role to Jay? Brenda realizes their family life isn’t perfect but immediately includes the less than fortunate Jay in their home and defends him as if he were her son when Frosty gets too strict. However, their own children’s ages are a bit telling – an older daughter as if she got pregnant and married young and a baby as if Brenda’s trying to save the marriage with another child. Her family’s dislike of Frosty is alluded to as well; she was a rich girl who gave up a lot for him, apparently. All these ups and downs are told rather than shown in developing Brenda as her own character. The film should have run with this tight knit dynamic, for more strengthening scenes with these domestic complexities would have given Chasing Mavericks the polished development it needs. As is, there is only one scene between Brenda and Jay’s girlfriend Kim, and none of the three main adults is ever in a scene all together despite the viewer being told that they have indeed spoken. Maya Raines (About Cherry) also seems oddly miscast or too old to be Frosty and Brenda’s daughter. If she is a baby in the 1987 opening, then she should be seven once we remain in 1994. Strangely, she looks about twelve for most of the film yet gets read to and talks like a much smaller child – almost as if she were indeed seven. 

Understandably, film often requires the typical best friend and ne’er do well antagonist – served here by Devin Crittenden (Greek) and Taylor Handley (Phantom of the Megaplex) – but the teenage tug and pull feels a bit too assy and I dare say unnecessary. These relationships are realistic perhaps, but ultimately Chasing Mavericks isn’t about bad kids with skateboards. We’ve seen that before yet surfing biographies with this kind of crossover mainstream appeal are few and far between. The secondary characters somewhat rightfully don’t matter compared to the waves, but it’s tough to tell who is who in some surfing scenes and credit listings like “Magnificent Two” don’t help identify anyone. Oscar winner Elisabeth Shue (Leaving Las Vegas), sadly, is erroneously underused as Jay’s mom – I’m not even sure she’s called by name onscreen. Again, more scenes together between her, Weston, their difficulties and reconciliations might have helped Chasing Mavericks hit home. Liberties and dramatic license have already been taken in the telling, so why not play to all your ensemble’s strengths and give the picture the extra zing it needs? Leven Rambin (All My Children) does fine with what she’s given, but she and Weston don’t have much chemistry. Their would-be steadfast relationship is played too young romance – one can’t quite imagine this couple will marry in a few short years. Naturally, this tale has a bittersweet end, but Chasing Mavericks’ live fast, love hard message and tender determination amid today’s culture of me me me excess is delightful. Besides, it took a dozen viewings, but I think I finally saw Scott Eastwood! 

 

It’s so ironic that Butler’s crappy romantic comedies made millions when superior work such as Chasing Mavericks, Coriolanus, and Machine Gun Preacher failed in theaters. Maybe Butler’s health, off screen celebrity, and biz troubles – the failed Motor City production and its subsequent lawsuits for example – hurt Chasing Mavericks at the box office, and his own surfing accident during filming most likely contributed to his stint in rehab as well. That kind of press doesn’t help a largely wholesome, no cursing sports picture like Chasing Mavericks pad its wallet. It just seems like there isn’t room at the cinema for small, poignant fair, much less a tenderly told niche teen sports movie with such a finite demographic, and Chasing Mavericks was pitifully mis-marketed between its family drama and teen sports excitement split personalities. Instead of going for a confusing identity, Chasing Mavericks should have remained steadfast to its core players and brought home its umph. Granted, I am not a teenager, surfer, father, son, or California girl so I am not anywhere near the target viewer here. Heck, people who fear water or get seasick easily should avoid Chasing Mavericks all together. However, the touching, inspirational message and aquatic Zen here can stir surfing lovers, fans of the cast, and teen sports audiences.

An American International Pictures Rundown!

American International Pictures Delights!

By Kristin Battestella

We’ve discussed the glory of Hammer Films here at I Think, Therefore I Review as well as the joys of Amicus Productions and American International Pictures.  But when even we couldn’t find all our AIP essays, well, that meant it’s time for a handy list post. Here’s all our AIP treats all in one place!

 (Crazy Vincent Price invites you in...)

Phantom from 10,000 Leagues

The Screaming Skull

Attack of the Giant Leeches

A Bucket of Blood

The Amazing Transparent Man

Black Sunday

House of Usher

The Pit and the Pendulum

The Premature Burial

Burn Witch Burn

Tales of Terror

The Brain That Wouldn’t Die

The Raven

Dementia 13

The Terror

The Haunted Palace

The Comedy of Terrors

Black Sabbath

The Last Man on Earth

The Masque of the Red Death

The Tomb of Ligeia

Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine

Planet of the Vampires

Die Monster Die!

Dr. Goldfoot and the Girl Bombs

Queen of Blood

Circus of Fear

The Conqueror Worm

The Crimson Cult

The Oblong Box

Scream and Scream Again

The Dunwich Horror

The Bloody Judge

Count Yorga, Vampire!

Cry of the Banshee

The Vampire Lovers
Julius Caesar (1970)

Murders in the Rue Morgue

Tales from the Crypt

Baron Blood

The Abominable Dr. Phibes

Dr. Phibes Rises Again

Sisters

Madhouse
Deranged

At the Earth’s Core
The People That Time Forgot
The Island of Dr. Moreau (1977)
The Evictors 

The Amityville Horror