I'm one of the few people who seems to have liked the fourth "Die Hard" movie, the PG-13 actioner with Justin Long and the extended cameo by Kevin Smith. However, I respect the opinion that "Die Hard" should stick to R-rated territory, and its hard action, cheerfully profane roots. "A Good Day to Die Hard," will definitely be seen as a return to form by some longtime fans. Alas, its quality is so poor that I'm sorry to report that this is the worst of the "Die Hard" franchise, and not by a small margin either. That's not to say that the film isn't still a fun watch, but in a very B-movie, turn your brain all the way off, and leave your expectations at the door kind of way.
John McClane (Bruce Willis) is still a working cop, but decides to take a vacation to Moscow in search of his missing son Jack (Jai Courtney), who he never had the best relationship with. Jack turns out to be working for the CIA, and in the middle of a mission to rescue a political prisoner, Komarov (Sebastian Kock), and keep him out of the clutches of a baddie named Alik (Radivoje Bukvic). The plot hardly matters much, a father-son bonding story interlaced with a mishmash of old spy game tropes including a couple of twists and misdirections that are telegraphed very far in advance. When Komarov's daughter Irina (Yuliya Snigir) shows up, she so looks the part of the femme fatale, you wonder why the filmmakers bothered to pretend for any length of time that she wasn't one. Rest assured that "A Good Day to Die Hard" has lots and lots of action scenes, including gunfights, car chases, and a big showdown involving a helicopter that takes place at Chernoble.
That showdown is very enjoyable, but getting there requires withstanding some pain. The first third of the movie is nearly unwatchable, thanks to the worst camera work I have ever seen in a mainstream film. This is full-on shakeycam hell, where the operators are deliberately jerking the camera around to add extraneous motion, panning and zooming constantly. Even in simple conversation scenes, they refuse to hold still, so the frame is frequently bobbing up and down, making it look like the characters are on a boat or a carnival ride. The first big car chase through Moscow appears to have some impressive stunts, but the cinematography, full of quick cuts and close-ups, renders it utterly nauseating to watch. The filmmakers clearly meant to ape the style of "Bourne" series, except without the technical chops or the editing knowhow to keep the action coherent.
Fortunately the shakeycam settles down after the first act, giving way to a pretty typical action movie. The script is dumb, but not egregiously so. The supporting characters run the gamut of Russian movie stereotypes, but it's nice to see Moscow portrayed as a modern cosmopolis and there's no sign of any of the old anti-Soviet sentiments we might have seen in an older picture. Jai Courtney is stuck in a thankless role, playing John McClane's bullheaded, hostile offspring, who never adequately explains why he's so ticked off at his old man. Courtney and Bruce Willis are strong enough actors that they manage to establish a decent rapport as the movie goes on, but they don't get much help from the tepid dialogue. The attempts at wisecracking are particularly lackluster.
The action is pretty good though, and the large scale carnage reminded me of all those cheesy old 80s action flicks with so many machine gun battles and explosions that the original "Die Hard" played a big part in popularizing. Compared to Schwarzenegger and Stallone, and the rest, I can still buy Bruce Willis as an action star, and he can still pull off some of these impossible stunts. I expect that the action is what most audience members are really coming to "A Good Day to Die Hard" to see, and on that score they won't be disappointed. On the other hand, this is a very poor "Die Hard" installment, lacking all but the most superficial hallmarks of the series. McClane's personality has been mellowed and softened to the point where he hardly seems like John McClane anymore.
Inevitably there will be a sixth "Die Hard" movie, possibly titled "Old Habits Die Hard," possibly involving John McClane as an irascible grandpa, showing yet another generation how to survive being blown up, shot in the non-vitals, thrown through windows, and being crashed into while operating a large motorized vehicle. All I can hope is that it will be directed and written by filmmakers who care a little more than the people who made this movie, who won't do the bare minimum and hope the fans' affection for the series can make up the difference.
And with a competent cinematographer.
---
Friday, February 15, 2013
Thursday, February 14, 2013
The Pain of "Amour"
The Oscars are fast approaching, and since I've covered just about all the major nominees, it's about time I wrote about "Amour." I saw the film at the end of last year, but was extremely hesitant to address it, because it's a difficult piece of work. All Michael Haneke films are, from what I've seen of them, and I still find it astonishing that the Academy would single out his newest film this year for honors. "Amour" simply does not fit the profile of your typical Oscar contender. It features a pair of older, celebrated French actors who Americans would not be particularly familiar with. The subject matter is certainly weighty and important, but the scale is small and the drama is intimate. There are no gimmick's like last year's "The Artist." There are no controversies, like those raised by "Zero Dark Thirty." And rarely do you see a film this raw and honest and bleak, with such limited commercial prospects, penetrate the defenses of the generally more conservative, more Hollywood-oriented, mainstream-oriented Academy electorate.
Then again, "Amour" is perhaps one of the most accessible Haneke films. The story is simple enough. It concerns an elderly couple, Georges (Jean-Louis Trintignant) and Anne (Emmanuelle Riva), who are both in their eighties, and have enjoyed a long and happy relationship. One day Anne pauses a little too long in the kitchen, her movements arrested and her face going blank. Something has begun to go very wrong, and Georges is helpless to prevent Anne's slow, but certain decline. She suffers a stroke that leaves her bedridden and in need of constant care. She undergoes an operation that makes things worse. One of her last coherent requests to Georges is that she not be hospitalized, so Georges takes on the monumental task of caring for her needs at home, as best he can. Nurses and aides are retained, and then dismissed when Georges finds fault with their treatment of his wife. The couple's grown daughter, Eva (Isabelle Huppert) comes to visit and tries to intervene, but Georges is resolute. How it will all end is no mystery. The story is told in flashback after an opening scene where the police force their way into Georges and Anne's sealed-off apartment, to discover Anne's carefully laid out corpse.
When I first heard about "Amour," I was expecting something much grimmer and more disturbing. Michael Haneke is known for emotionally harrowing films that frequently employ shocking violence and reveal the darkest, most grotesque sides of human nature. In "Amour," there are no hidden monsters, no awful secrets to be brought to light. There is only a man who loves his wife, but who pays a heavy price for that love. Haneke confronts the audience with the reality that even the happiest relationships end in cold death, often demanding unbearable pain and suffering before the end. Perhaps that's why "Amour" comes across as one of the more humane Haneke's films. His characters are allowed a measure of peace, and perhaps even a little sentiment before the end, which make the harsher scenes go down quite a bit easier. Make no mistake that "Amour" presents an unflinching end-of-life narrative that many viewers will find difficult to watch, but it's not cruel, and it's not without mercy. Perhaps one of our most reliable modern provocateurs is softening a little with age.
The performances of Jean-Louis Trintignant and Emmanuelle Riva are remarkable here, creating an evolving onscreen relationship that feels very rich and genuine. Riva is particularly strong. Her character may not have much control over her situation, but displays a steely willfulness and defiance that keeps her very present in the narrative. As for Trintignant, his character's decline is in some ways more pronounced and devastating to watch than this wife's. In the often overlooked and sorely undervalued category of films starring elderly actors, these are rare, challenging roles. I'm not nearly familiar with the long careers of Riva and Trintignant as I should be, but I've seen them both in various French classics from the 60s and 70s, and it's gratifying to see them get the chance to continue to do good work.
Ultimately, though, I'm not sure what I think of "Amour." It's a brave, challenging work of art featuring great performances, and I'm very glad the Academy went for it instead of something easier and more familiar, like "The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel." On the other hand, so much of the movie is about the immediate, visceral impact of experiencing the couple's end, and the story feels sorely lacking in the kind of context and depth that might have given it more lasting impact. Haneke is not a director in the habit of giving straightforward answers, but this time his oblique symbolism and ambiguous moments don't work as well as they have in the past, and I had no urge to try to unpack them. I came away neither shocked nor particularly moved, though I was impressed with the filmmaking and the approach to the subject matter.
"Amour" is a bold and impressive film, but I didn't get much out of it.
---
Then again, "Amour" is perhaps one of the most accessible Haneke films. The story is simple enough. It concerns an elderly couple, Georges (Jean-Louis Trintignant) and Anne (Emmanuelle Riva), who are both in their eighties, and have enjoyed a long and happy relationship. One day Anne pauses a little too long in the kitchen, her movements arrested and her face going blank. Something has begun to go very wrong, and Georges is helpless to prevent Anne's slow, but certain decline. She suffers a stroke that leaves her bedridden and in need of constant care. She undergoes an operation that makes things worse. One of her last coherent requests to Georges is that she not be hospitalized, so Georges takes on the monumental task of caring for her needs at home, as best he can. Nurses and aides are retained, and then dismissed when Georges finds fault with their treatment of his wife. The couple's grown daughter, Eva (Isabelle Huppert) comes to visit and tries to intervene, but Georges is resolute. How it will all end is no mystery. The story is told in flashback after an opening scene where the police force their way into Georges and Anne's sealed-off apartment, to discover Anne's carefully laid out corpse.
When I first heard about "Amour," I was expecting something much grimmer and more disturbing. Michael Haneke is known for emotionally harrowing films that frequently employ shocking violence and reveal the darkest, most grotesque sides of human nature. In "Amour," there are no hidden monsters, no awful secrets to be brought to light. There is only a man who loves his wife, but who pays a heavy price for that love. Haneke confronts the audience with the reality that even the happiest relationships end in cold death, often demanding unbearable pain and suffering before the end. Perhaps that's why "Amour" comes across as one of the more humane Haneke's films. His characters are allowed a measure of peace, and perhaps even a little sentiment before the end, which make the harsher scenes go down quite a bit easier. Make no mistake that "Amour" presents an unflinching end-of-life narrative that many viewers will find difficult to watch, but it's not cruel, and it's not without mercy. Perhaps one of our most reliable modern provocateurs is softening a little with age.
The performances of Jean-Louis Trintignant and Emmanuelle Riva are remarkable here, creating an evolving onscreen relationship that feels very rich and genuine. Riva is particularly strong. Her character may not have much control over her situation, but displays a steely willfulness and defiance that keeps her very present in the narrative. As for Trintignant, his character's decline is in some ways more pronounced and devastating to watch than this wife's. In the often overlooked and sorely undervalued category of films starring elderly actors, these are rare, challenging roles. I'm not nearly familiar with the long careers of Riva and Trintignant as I should be, but I've seen them both in various French classics from the 60s and 70s, and it's gratifying to see them get the chance to continue to do good work.
Ultimately, though, I'm not sure what I think of "Amour." It's a brave, challenging work of art featuring great performances, and I'm very glad the Academy went for it instead of something easier and more familiar, like "The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel." On the other hand, so much of the movie is about the immediate, visceral impact of experiencing the couple's end, and the story feels sorely lacking in the kind of context and depth that might have given it more lasting impact. Haneke is not a director in the habit of giving straightforward answers, but this time his oblique symbolism and ambiguous moments don't work as well as they have in the past, and I had no urge to try to unpack them. I came away neither shocked nor particularly moved, though I was impressed with the filmmaking and the approach to the subject matter.
"Amour" is a bold and impressive film, but I didn't get much out of it.
---
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Cliffhanger Crisis
I was saving "The Hour" for a slower patch in my viewing schedule. It's one of those period British shows with short seasons and smart characters that I tend to like. Dominic West, Ben Whishaw and Romola Garai play the leads, and they're actors who have been great in everything else I've seen them in. The only trouble is that "The Hour" has just been cancelled after two seasons. And to make things even more infuriating, the second season reportedly ends on a cliffhanger that is never going to be resolved. Oh joy.
This is not a rare problem. Having been the fan of many short-lived genre shows in my time, I've had to put up with cliffhanger endings before. "Angel" ended with most of the cast about to go off into battle, and who knows if anyone survived? More recently, there's the possibility that "Alphas" killed off all but one major character in its last episode. And the new "V" left us on the verge of a full-blown alien invasion. There are also plenty of shows that never get around to addressing their central conflicts or wrapping up dangling questions before they had to say goodbye. I'm still nursing a minor grudge that "Eerie, Indiana," a short-lived supernatural mystery show I watched as a kid in the '90s, never explained the origins of the mysterious Dash X. What is an invested fan to do?
Well, we used to be totally out of luck, stuck simmering over the lack of resolution. Fanwork is a good source of unofficial endings, and there are plenty of fanfiction writers who actually a appreciate a good cliffhanger, because they create good jumping-off points for the future adventures of all your favorite characters. Recently, however, creators have been stepping up to provide a little resolution on their own. Joss Whedon continued "Angel" in a successful series of comics. Bryan Fuller is attempting to do the same with "Pushing Daisies," and has provided plenty of teases for possible continuations in other formats. The "Doctor Who" crew released storyboards for a scene that got cut out of an episode last season that would have wrapped up the story for a minor character many viewers were left wondering about. In a few cases, creators of cancelled shows like "Threshold," "Defying Gravity," and "John Doe" have popped up in interviews or extras to shed some light on future storylines or to spill major secrets.
Then again, there's something to be said about leaving them wanting more. I think people tend to overlook the value of a good mystery. For instance, "The Sopranos" ended with that famous cut to black, a deliberate choice made by the creator David Chase. Though initially reviled, it's become one of the most talked about, written about, and endlessly analyzed scenes in the entire show. Did Tony Soprano die in a hit? Was the cut to black a metaphor for something? What about the lack of end credits music? What was David Chase trying to say? It's interesting to look at some of the shows with major cliffhanger endings, thinking of them as true series finales. Suddenly the entire nature of "V" changes. Suddenly it's a tragedy, chronicling how the human race lost the planet to alien invaders. "Alphas" ends on the heroic sacrifice of nearly all our heroes.
Last minute rescues and improbable deus ex machina solutions are so ingrained in the minds of viewers, bad outcomes and tragedies in our favorite television shows can be difficult to accept. I wonder what the response would have been to the BBC series "Sherlock" ending after its second series, which came to a close with "The Reichenbach Fall," an episode with many allusions to the famous story where Sir Arthur Conan Doyle tried to kill off the literary Sherlock Holmes permanently. A third series is on its way to resolve the cliffhanger we were left with, but I think it would have been perfectly fine to let the series end right there, though maybe with a few revisions to remove the big, honking, obvious clues that something else was up. Oh sure, it'll be nice to get more "Sherlock," but there was a nice sense of finality about "The Reichenbach Fall," the kind that few shows ever get. I can't imagine any ending the show comes up with later will match up to it.
Movies suffer the same problem, of course, especially now that franchise pictures are getting more serialized. The sad fact is that more than a few of these big, gargantuan film series are just going to peter out eventually, ending on lesser adventures that fail to make good use of the existing source material. There's a reason why the most successful series tend to be limited ones, designed with an ending already in mind, give or take an extra "Harry Potter" or "Hunger Games" film. Production complications and different financial models mean that few television shows can be done this way, and you really learn to appreciate the ones that can manage strong exits. I'm really looking forward to the "Breaking Bad" finale. Fingers crossed.
Good endings are a rare commodity, and sometimes going out with a bang, with a big, infuriating cliffhanger, beats going out with a whimper. So the long and the short of it is, I think it's high time I watched "The Hour."
---
This is not a rare problem. Having been the fan of many short-lived genre shows in my time, I've had to put up with cliffhanger endings before. "Angel" ended with most of the cast about to go off into battle, and who knows if anyone survived? More recently, there's the possibility that "Alphas" killed off all but one major character in its last episode. And the new "V" left us on the verge of a full-blown alien invasion. There are also plenty of shows that never get around to addressing their central conflicts or wrapping up dangling questions before they had to say goodbye. I'm still nursing a minor grudge that "Eerie, Indiana," a short-lived supernatural mystery show I watched as a kid in the '90s, never explained the origins of the mysterious Dash X. What is an invested fan to do?
Well, we used to be totally out of luck, stuck simmering over the lack of resolution. Fanwork is a good source of unofficial endings, and there are plenty of fanfiction writers who actually a appreciate a good cliffhanger, because they create good jumping-off points for the future adventures of all your favorite characters. Recently, however, creators have been stepping up to provide a little resolution on their own. Joss Whedon continued "Angel" in a successful series of comics. Bryan Fuller is attempting to do the same with "Pushing Daisies," and has provided plenty of teases for possible continuations in other formats. The "Doctor Who" crew released storyboards for a scene that got cut out of an episode last season that would have wrapped up the story for a minor character many viewers were left wondering about. In a few cases, creators of cancelled shows like "Threshold," "Defying Gravity," and "John Doe" have popped up in interviews or extras to shed some light on future storylines or to spill major secrets.
Then again, there's something to be said about leaving them wanting more. I think people tend to overlook the value of a good mystery. For instance, "The Sopranos" ended with that famous cut to black, a deliberate choice made by the creator David Chase. Though initially reviled, it's become one of the most talked about, written about, and endlessly analyzed scenes in the entire show. Did Tony Soprano die in a hit? Was the cut to black a metaphor for something? What about the lack of end credits music? What was David Chase trying to say? It's interesting to look at some of the shows with major cliffhanger endings, thinking of them as true series finales. Suddenly the entire nature of "V" changes. Suddenly it's a tragedy, chronicling how the human race lost the planet to alien invaders. "Alphas" ends on the heroic sacrifice of nearly all our heroes.
Last minute rescues and improbable deus ex machina solutions are so ingrained in the minds of viewers, bad outcomes and tragedies in our favorite television shows can be difficult to accept. I wonder what the response would have been to the BBC series "Sherlock" ending after its second series, which came to a close with "The Reichenbach Fall," an episode with many allusions to the famous story where Sir Arthur Conan Doyle tried to kill off the literary Sherlock Holmes permanently. A third series is on its way to resolve the cliffhanger we were left with, but I think it would have been perfectly fine to let the series end right there, though maybe with a few revisions to remove the big, honking, obvious clues that something else was up. Oh sure, it'll be nice to get more "Sherlock," but there was a nice sense of finality about "The Reichenbach Fall," the kind that few shows ever get. I can't imagine any ending the show comes up with later will match up to it.
Movies suffer the same problem, of course, especially now that franchise pictures are getting more serialized. The sad fact is that more than a few of these big, gargantuan film series are just going to peter out eventually, ending on lesser adventures that fail to make good use of the existing source material. There's a reason why the most successful series tend to be limited ones, designed with an ending already in mind, give or take an extra "Harry Potter" or "Hunger Games" film. Production complications and different financial models mean that few television shows can be done this way, and you really learn to appreciate the ones that can manage strong exits. I'm really looking forward to the "Breaking Bad" finale. Fingers crossed.
Good endings are a rare commodity, and sometimes going out with a bang, with a big, infuriating cliffhanger, beats going out with a whimper. So the long and the short of it is, I think it's high time I watched "The Hour."
---
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Gee Whiz, "Les Miz"
I put off watching "Les Misérables" for as long as possible, because even though I generally like movie musicals, I've found most of the recent ones underwhelming. Filmmakers have the bad habit of choosing star power over the ability to actually sing, resulting in musically mediocre efforts like "The Phantom of the Opera" and "Sweeney Todd." I'm happy to report that Tom Hooper's version of "Les Misérables" does not have this problem, featuring Hugh Jackman, Broadway veteran, in the starring role of Jean Valjean, as well as several cast members from earlier stage productions. Unfortunately Hooper's intimate approach to the sweeping, epic material does not do the new film version any favors.
On paper it makes sense. "Les Misérables" is full of plaintive solos, sung by characters in isolated, existential misery. Valjean is a convicted thief in nineteenth century France, who elects to break parole and go on the run in order to start a new life. Despite being hunted by the ruthless police inspector Javert (Russell Crowe), Valjean becomes a successful businessman and eventually mayor of his town. One of his factory workers, Fantine (Anne Hathaway), is dismissed and left destitute when it is discovered she is hiding an illegitimate child. Believeing his failure to intercede wronged Fantine, Valjean takes responsibility for raising her daughter Cosette, (Isabelle Allen as a child, Amanda Seyfried as an adult). Still on the run from Javert years later, when Cosette has grown up, the pair find themselves caught up in the events of the 1832 June rebellion. Among the student revolutionaries is young Marius (Eddie Redmayne), who falls hopelessly in love with Cosette, and his friend and secret admirer, Éponine (Samantha Barks). And every single one of these characters gets plenty of chances to express their angst through song.
"Les Misérables" is absolutely packed with musical numbers, deviating only slightly from the hefty stage musical written by Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schönberg. Minor revisions keep the film under three hours in length, but this means that it's constantly jumping from one famous song to the next, with hardly any pauses to process what's going on. There's hardly any chance for any extra context or exposition outside of what's provided in the lyrics. Fortunately the art direction makes up for a lot, recreating the poverty and despair of 19th century France that Victor Hugo's novel was written to address. The 1832 sequences with hordes of beggars on the streets and the erection of the student barricade are visually spectacular. Unfortunately, these moments are rare. Hooper shoots most of his actors in tight close-ups, utilizing a lot of hand-held camera work, and is fairly stingy about scenic vistas and even crowd shots. While "Les Misérables" is known for its solos, it's also known for the rousing anthems like "Do You Hear the People Sing?" and "Master of the House," which rely on the ensemble, and those numbers simply don't work as well in this style.
The focus on realism and the rejection of theatricality results in a "Les Misérables" that feels grittier and starker, but also smaller and more closed-in than it should. One thing I noticed immediately was the more muted orchestrations of many songs, which puts more emphasis on the raw performances. The stronger singers like Hugh Jackman and Anne Hathaway don't have any problems getting their emotions across, but then you have poor Russell Crowe as Javert, who completely fails to convey the intensity and obsessive nature of Inspector Javert. His big solo "Stars" is the low point of the movie. Then there's Helena Bonham Carter and Sacha Baron Cohen as the comic baddies, the Thénardiers, who are never allowed to be as broad or as funny as we know that they can be, and vocally run into some trouble. This is almost certainly why Hooper chose to cast Eddie Redmayne and Samantha Barks over bigger names, because they deftly rise above the limitations of the stripped down, deglamorized production.
I hesitate to be too harsh with the director, because his instincts weren't bad. There is a very modern, very timely feel to this "Les Misérables," and it never feels like a stuffy costume drama or a glitzy, overproduced event film. However, the execution is so uneven, and there are so many ideas that just fall flat, I found it difficult to become immersed in the film. I liked most of the performances, especially Anne Hathaway’s broken Fantine, but I don't feel they were particularly well served. If you're a fan of the musical, as I am, I think it's worth a watch to enjoy some of these performances. However, the film does a pretty poor job of capturing what was so stirring about the stage version, and the Victor Hugo novel for that matter - the sheer immensity of its scope and the impact of its drama.
---
On paper it makes sense. "Les Misérables" is full of plaintive solos, sung by characters in isolated, existential misery. Valjean is a convicted thief in nineteenth century France, who elects to break parole and go on the run in order to start a new life. Despite being hunted by the ruthless police inspector Javert (Russell Crowe), Valjean becomes a successful businessman and eventually mayor of his town. One of his factory workers, Fantine (Anne Hathaway), is dismissed and left destitute when it is discovered she is hiding an illegitimate child. Believeing his failure to intercede wronged Fantine, Valjean takes responsibility for raising her daughter Cosette, (Isabelle Allen as a child, Amanda Seyfried as an adult). Still on the run from Javert years later, when Cosette has grown up, the pair find themselves caught up in the events of the 1832 June rebellion. Among the student revolutionaries is young Marius (Eddie Redmayne), who falls hopelessly in love with Cosette, and his friend and secret admirer, Éponine (Samantha Barks). And every single one of these characters gets plenty of chances to express their angst through song.
"Les Misérables" is absolutely packed with musical numbers, deviating only slightly from the hefty stage musical written by Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schönberg. Minor revisions keep the film under three hours in length, but this means that it's constantly jumping from one famous song to the next, with hardly any pauses to process what's going on. There's hardly any chance for any extra context or exposition outside of what's provided in the lyrics. Fortunately the art direction makes up for a lot, recreating the poverty and despair of 19th century France that Victor Hugo's novel was written to address. The 1832 sequences with hordes of beggars on the streets and the erection of the student barricade are visually spectacular. Unfortunately, these moments are rare. Hooper shoots most of his actors in tight close-ups, utilizing a lot of hand-held camera work, and is fairly stingy about scenic vistas and even crowd shots. While "Les Misérables" is known for its solos, it's also known for the rousing anthems like "Do You Hear the People Sing?" and "Master of the House," which rely on the ensemble, and those numbers simply don't work as well in this style.
The focus on realism and the rejection of theatricality results in a "Les Misérables" that feels grittier and starker, but also smaller and more closed-in than it should. One thing I noticed immediately was the more muted orchestrations of many songs, which puts more emphasis on the raw performances. The stronger singers like Hugh Jackman and Anne Hathaway don't have any problems getting their emotions across, but then you have poor Russell Crowe as Javert, who completely fails to convey the intensity and obsessive nature of Inspector Javert. His big solo "Stars" is the low point of the movie. Then there's Helena Bonham Carter and Sacha Baron Cohen as the comic baddies, the Thénardiers, who are never allowed to be as broad or as funny as we know that they can be, and vocally run into some trouble. This is almost certainly why Hooper chose to cast Eddie Redmayne and Samantha Barks over bigger names, because they deftly rise above the limitations of the stripped down, deglamorized production.
I hesitate to be too harsh with the director, because his instincts weren't bad. There is a very modern, very timely feel to this "Les Misérables," and it never feels like a stuffy costume drama or a glitzy, overproduced event film. However, the execution is so uneven, and there are so many ideas that just fall flat, I found it difficult to become immersed in the film. I liked most of the performances, especially Anne Hathaway’s broken Fantine, but I don't feel they were particularly well served. If you're a fan of the musical, as I am, I think it's worth a watch to enjoy some of these performances. However, the film does a pretty poor job of capturing what was so stirring about the stage version, and the Victor Hugo novel for that matter - the sheer immensity of its scope and the impact of its drama.
---
Monday, February 11, 2013
"The Wire" Year Five
Minor spoilers below.
The last season of "The Wire" is noticeably truncated, down to ten episodes instead of the usual twelve or thirteen. After such a showstopper of a fourth season, year five is also inevitably a step down from that former high. That's not to say that the season isn't still excellent, that the major storylines don't progress as they should, or that the show's creators don't continue to deliver great drama and great social commentary. Targeting the media, in the form of the Baltimore Sun newsroom, yielded some strong storylines that I wish would have played out even further. However, it's hard to ignore that the season's central crime story involves a gimmick similar to the creation of Hamsterdam in season three. In this instance, the Major Crimes Unit is unable to keep working the Marlo Stanfield case because of cutbacks on the police department. So Jimmy McNulty, having backslid into self-destructive behavior, cooks up a fake serial killer to get the money rolling again. Of course, the deception soon grows too big for him to handle, and threatens to spiral out of control.
The reporters and editors of the Baltimore Sun are instrumental in the spreading of the fake story. Our major POV character here is Gus Haynes (Clark Johnson) the city editor of the paper, dealing with a shrinking staff and limited resources. Young reporters Scott Templeton (Thomas McCarthy) and Alma Gutierrez (Michelle Paress) fight to land front page bylines while the management, led by Thomas Klebanow (David Constabile) and James Whiting (Sam Freed), are out of touch and too willing to let transgressions slide if it suits their interests. I expected the media storyline to be more sensationalist, but "The Wire" is more interested in establishing how the newsroom is plagued by the same problems that everyone else in the city is facing: not enough money, a leadership driven by greed and politics, and numerous systemic dysfunctions. Though I don't think that the media storyline turns out to be one of the better ones in the series, it's still a far more thoughtful portrayal of the media than I've seen in just about any other television show. You also get a sense that the show's writers are having more fun with this material, indulging in more florid language and literary allusions than usual.
However, it's the continuing storylines that I stayed more invested in, and found more rewarding. Bubbles, who I was worried would be heading for a bitter end after hitting rock bottom last season, manages to stay clean this season. His redemption is honestly a little hokier than I think was necessary, particularly his interactions with reporter Mike Fletcher (Brandon Young), but it provides a good antidote to the overwhelming cynicism that characterizes so much of the later seasons. Watching Michael and Dukie slip further into the grasp of the street is depressing, especially when it becomes clear what Michael's eventual profession is going to be. Marlo's gang has been a poor substitute for the Barksdale organization, but the show still gets me to feel for Marlo and Snoop in the end. And then there's Omar, who along with Bubbles has survived all the way to the fifth season, and feels like one of the characters who really embodies what the series is all about. Here's a hardened criminal with no remorse about what he does, yet who also operates by a code of deeply-held morals and displays great loyalty. And he's the one who ends up having a major hand in delivering justice, more so than most of the police.
The political storylines have been very solid since they were first introduced in the third season, and hit a new high point here. Carcetti's back and forth with the police department keeps him conflicted and frustrated enough to still be mildly sympathetic, even as he sells out his city more and more blatantly with each passing episode. We finally get to see the outcome of the ongoing Daniels storyline involving his potential ascension to Police Commissioner, which proves wholly satisfying to see play out. I wish I could say the same of the our protagonists in law enforcement, but the fake serial killer storyline never came off quite right. I could buy Hamsterdam as the experiment of a single misguided commander cashing in a lot of goodwill, or an unethical reporter blowing a smaller lie of McNulty's all out of proportion, but there were too many smart characters who got drawn into the mess, and kept it going, to sustain any believability. You had to essentially turn McNulty into a suicidal nutter and drag Lester Freamon down with him. Bunk, of all people, was left being the reasonable one!
But even if I wasn't thrilled with the bigger storylines of this season, it was still gratifying to be able to check in with familiar faces like Herc, Carver, Cutty, Randy, Beadie, Prez, and Colvin, if only for a minor scene here and there. I'm not clear on when the writers found out that the fifth season of "The Wire" would be the last, but they did manage to create a good sense of finality about the final episodes. At the same time, it's clear that the show could have gone on considerably longer.
I'll be back with wrap up thoughts on the series in a couple of days.
---
The last season of "The Wire" is noticeably truncated, down to ten episodes instead of the usual twelve or thirteen. After such a showstopper of a fourth season, year five is also inevitably a step down from that former high. That's not to say that the season isn't still excellent, that the major storylines don't progress as they should, or that the show's creators don't continue to deliver great drama and great social commentary. Targeting the media, in the form of the Baltimore Sun newsroom, yielded some strong storylines that I wish would have played out even further. However, it's hard to ignore that the season's central crime story involves a gimmick similar to the creation of Hamsterdam in season three. In this instance, the Major Crimes Unit is unable to keep working the Marlo Stanfield case because of cutbacks on the police department. So Jimmy McNulty, having backslid into self-destructive behavior, cooks up a fake serial killer to get the money rolling again. Of course, the deception soon grows too big for him to handle, and threatens to spiral out of control.
The reporters and editors of the Baltimore Sun are instrumental in the spreading of the fake story. Our major POV character here is Gus Haynes (Clark Johnson) the city editor of the paper, dealing with a shrinking staff and limited resources. Young reporters Scott Templeton (Thomas McCarthy) and Alma Gutierrez (Michelle Paress) fight to land front page bylines while the management, led by Thomas Klebanow (David Constabile) and James Whiting (Sam Freed), are out of touch and too willing to let transgressions slide if it suits their interests. I expected the media storyline to be more sensationalist, but "The Wire" is more interested in establishing how the newsroom is plagued by the same problems that everyone else in the city is facing: not enough money, a leadership driven by greed and politics, and numerous systemic dysfunctions. Though I don't think that the media storyline turns out to be one of the better ones in the series, it's still a far more thoughtful portrayal of the media than I've seen in just about any other television show. You also get a sense that the show's writers are having more fun with this material, indulging in more florid language and literary allusions than usual.
However, it's the continuing storylines that I stayed more invested in, and found more rewarding. Bubbles, who I was worried would be heading for a bitter end after hitting rock bottom last season, manages to stay clean this season. His redemption is honestly a little hokier than I think was necessary, particularly his interactions with reporter Mike Fletcher (Brandon Young), but it provides a good antidote to the overwhelming cynicism that characterizes so much of the later seasons. Watching Michael and Dukie slip further into the grasp of the street is depressing, especially when it becomes clear what Michael's eventual profession is going to be. Marlo's gang has been a poor substitute for the Barksdale organization, but the show still gets me to feel for Marlo and Snoop in the end. And then there's Omar, who along with Bubbles has survived all the way to the fifth season, and feels like one of the characters who really embodies what the series is all about. Here's a hardened criminal with no remorse about what he does, yet who also operates by a code of deeply-held morals and displays great loyalty. And he's the one who ends up having a major hand in delivering justice, more so than most of the police.
The political storylines have been very solid since they were first introduced in the third season, and hit a new high point here. Carcetti's back and forth with the police department keeps him conflicted and frustrated enough to still be mildly sympathetic, even as he sells out his city more and more blatantly with each passing episode. We finally get to see the outcome of the ongoing Daniels storyline involving his potential ascension to Police Commissioner, which proves wholly satisfying to see play out. I wish I could say the same of the our protagonists in law enforcement, but the fake serial killer storyline never came off quite right. I could buy Hamsterdam as the experiment of a single misguided commander cashing in a lot of goodwill, or an unethical reporter blowing a smaller lie of McNulty's all out of proportion, but there were too many smart characters who got drawn into the mess, and kept it going, to sustain any believability. You had to essentially turn McNulty into a suicidal nutter and drag Lester Freamon down with him. Bunk, of all people, was left being the reasonable one!
But even if I wasn't thrilled with the bigger storylines of this season, it was still gratifying to be able to check in with familiar faces like Herc, Carver, Cutty, Randy, Beadie, Prez, and Colvin, if only for a minor scene here and there. I'm not clear on when the writers found out that the fifth season of "The Wire" would be the last, but they did manage to create a good sense of finality about the final episodes. At the same time, it's clear that the show could have gone on considerably longer.
I'll be back with wrap up thoughts on the series in a couple of days.
---
Saturday, February 9, 2013
My Favorite Alfred Hitchcock Film
Alfred Hitchcock has been seeing a mild resurgence of interest lately with the recent release of movies about the director, "Hitchcock" and "The Girl." I haven't seen either of them yet, but I knew that I had to get this post written before I saw either. I've read enough about both films to know that they both advance their own heavily biased views of the director, and I'm more easily influenced than I like to admit, so I figured I should get my own thoughts about old Hitch down in words first.
Alfred Hitchcock was a great director but an even better showman and marketer, which fueled his legend and won him lasting fame, such that he's probably still the most well-known and well-loved director of his time. Though he started out in the UK, I think of him as perhaps the greatest American director, because he embodies so much of the entrepreneurial spirit and the inherently populist attitude of Hollywood filmmaking. He was a creature of genre films, but elevated that genre to dizzying heights. He outlasted the dismissive critics, multiple career slumps, and cultural shifts by coming up with something new and daring to show us, again and again. He was a director of endless invention, and some claim that he created the first real slasher film, the legendary "Psycho." The first time I saw the full movie after hearing years of hype, I sat down almost determined not to be impressed. And then the amazing title sequence with Bernard Hermann's jolting strings began, and it was useless to resist.
"Psycho" is about a series of intersecting crimes. First, a woman named Marion Crane (Janet Leigh) steals a large sum of money from her employer and goes on the run. She stops at a motel run by a young man named Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins) and his sinister, unseen mother. And really, that's all the plot summary it needs, because the less you know about "Psycho," the better it plays. It's a film full of sudden turns and misdirection, constantly upending the viewer's expectations. Like so many of Hitchcock's other films, the story can be reduced to a series of basic gimmicks. In this case, we have the mystery of Norman Bates, and a few major narrative and POV shifts. However, the film is so cleverly constructed and well executed on a technical level, it is extremely effective at getting exactly the kind of response it wants: rapt attention, followed by screams.
Alas, the famous shower scene was ruined for me long before I saw "Psycho," after too many appearances in retrospectives and too many trips to Universal Studios. I knew from an early age that I was supposed to be shocked and scared by the sequence, but I always saw it apart from the rest of the film, so I never had the proper context to enjoy it as intended. Instead, I found myself much more engaged by the longer, steadier build-ups of tension. There was the initial robbery sequence. And Norman Bates tidying up the vacated motel room and almost overlooking the newspaper. And then there was my favorite shot, the very last of the film - not our final glimpse of Norman, but of Marion's car, being dredged slowly but inexorably up out of the muck to reveal the extent of our killer's crimes. I could feel the creeping dread in the pit of my stomach with every creak of the winch.
The effectiveness of "Psycho" as a thriller has faded a bit with time. It's no longer considered particularly racy or violent, and many of its innovations have become commonplace. Hitchcock killed off his biggest star halfway through the picture, a shock lessened by the fact that "Psycho" is practically the only thing that actress is remembered for . Then he got us to sympathize with the killer by showing the action from his POV. It was pretty daring in 1960, but these days there are whole television shows built around this conceit. The disturbing nature of Norman Bates has long been surpassed in both real life and in fiction. On the other hand, after over fifty years "Psycho" still works on a fundamental level. Norman and his mother are still creepy and fascinating. The viewer is encouraged to root for Marion to get away with her crime, and then encouraged to root just as hard for Norman.
Norman Bates remains a villain for the ages, perhaps the greatest representation of the irreparably damaged psychotic to ever find his way to the silver screen. He appeared in three largely forgotten sequels, and will be resurrected again this year for a television prequel series, "Bates Motel," starring Freddie Highmore as young Norman, and Vera Farmiga as his mother. But without Hitchcock providing his menace, it just won’t be the same.
---
What I've Seen - Hitchcock
The Lodger: A Story of the London Fog (1927)
Easy Virtue (1928)
Blackmail (1929)
The 39 Steps (1935)
Sabotage (1936)
The Lady Vanishes (1938)
Rebecca (1940)
Foreign Correspondent (1940)
Alfred Hitchcock was a great director but an even better showman and marketer, which fueled his legend and won him lasting fame, such that he's probably still the most well-known and well-loved director of his time. Though he started out in the UK, I think of him as perhaps the greatest American director, because he embodies so much of the entrepreneurial spirit and the inherently populist attitude of Hollywood filmmaking. He was a creature of genre films, but elevated that genre to dizzying heights. He outlasted the dismissive critics, multiple career slumps, and cultural shifts by coming up with something new and daring to show us, again and again. He was a director of endless invention, and some claim that he created the first real slasher film, the legendary "Psycho." The first time I saw the full movie after hearing years of hype, I sat down almost determined not to be impressed. And then the amazing title sequence with Bernard Hermann's jolting strings began, and it was useless to resist.
"Psycho" is about a series of intersecting crimes. First, a woman named Marion Crane (Janet Leigh) steals a large sum of money from her employer and goes on the run. She stops at a motel run by a young man named Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins) and his sinister, unseen mother. And really, that's all the plot summary it needs, because the less you know about "Psycho," the better it plays. It's a film full of sudden turns and misdirection, constantly upending the viewer's expectations. Like so many of Hitchcock's other films, the story can be reduced to a series of basic gimmicks. In this case, we have the mystery of Norman Bates, and a few major narrative and POV shifts. However, the film is so cleverly constructed and well executed on a technical level, it is extremely effective at getting exactly the kind of response it wants: rapt attention, followed by screams.
Alas, the famous shower scene was ruined for me long before I saw "Psycho," after too many appearances in retrospectives and too many trips to Universal Studios. I knew from an early age that I was supposed to be shocked and scared by the sequence, but I always saw it apart from the rest of the film, so I never had the proper context to enjoy it as intended. Instead, I found myself much more engaged by the longer, steadier build-ups of tension. There was the initial robbery sequence. And Norman Bates tidying up the vacated motel room and almost overlooking the newspaper. And then there was my favorite shot, the very last of the film - not our final glimpse of Norman, but of Marion's car, being dredged slowly but inexorably up out of the muck to reveal the extent of our killer's crimes. I could feel the creeping dread in the pit of my stomach with every creak of the winch.
The effectiveness of "Psycho" as a thriller has faded a bit with time. It's no longer considered particularly racy or violent, and many of its innovations have become commonplace. Hitchcock killed off his biggest star halfway through the picture, a shock lessened by the fact that "Psycho" is practically the only thing that actress is remembered for . Then he got us to sympathize with the killer by showing the action from his POV. It was pretty daring in 1960, but these days there are whole television shows built around this conceit. The disturbing nature of Norman Bates has long been surpassed in both real life and in fiction. On the other hand, after over fifty years "Psycho" still works on a fundamental level. Norman and his mother are still creepy and fascinating. The viewer is encouraged to root for Marion to get away with her crime, and then encouraged to root just as hard for Norman.
Norman Bates remains a villain for the ages, perhaps the greatest representation of the irreparably damaged psychotic to ever find his way to the silver screen. He appeared in three largely forgotten sequels, and will be resurrected again this year for a television prequel series, "Bates Motel," starring Freddie Highmore as young Norman, and Vera Farmiga as his mother. But without Hitchcock providing his menace, it just won’t be the same.
---
What I've Seen - Hitchcock
The Lodger: A Story of the London Fog (1927)
Easy Virtue (1928)
Blackmail (1929)
The 39 Steps (1935)
Sabotage (1936)
The Lady Vanishes (1938)
Rebecca (1940)
Foreign Correspondent (1940)
Suspicion (1941)
Saboteur (1942)
Shadow of a Doubt (1943)
Lifeboat (1944)
Spellbound (1945)
Notorious (1946)
Saboteur (1942)
Shadow of a Doubt (1943)
Lifeboat (1944)
Spellbound (1945)
Notorious (1946)
The Paradine Case (1947)
Rope (1948)
Rope (1948)
Under Capricorn (1949)
Stage Fright (1950)
Strangers on a Train (1951)
Dial M for Murder (1954)
Rear Window (1954)
To Catch a Thief (1955)
Strangers on a Train (1951)
Dial M for Murder (1954)
Rear Window (1954)
To Catch a Thief (1955)
The Trouble With Harry (1955)
The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956)
The Wrong Man (1956)
Vertigo (1958)
North by Northwest (1959)
Psycho (1960)
The Birds (1963)
Marnie (1964)
The Wrong Man (1956)
Vertigo (1958)
North by Northwest (1959)
Psycho (1960)
The Birds (1963)
Marnie (1964)
Torn Curtain (1966)
Topaz (1969)
Frenzy (1972)
Family Plot (1976)
---
Topaz (1969)
Frenzy (1972)
Family Plot (1976)
---
Friday, February 8, 2013
The Jonathan Rhys Meyers Post
I admit it. Occasionally I use this blog to purge some of my pop culture and media demons, and so we had to get to Jonathan Rhys-Meyers eventually. You may have heard of the Irish actor, who has appeared in several well-regarded films like "Bend it Like Beckham" and "Match Point" over the last decade. He recently finished up his run on Showtime's "The Tudors," where he headlined as Henry the Eighth. However, Rhys-Meyers has always been one of those actors who seems to be perpetually on the verge of becoming a big star, but hasn't managed it yet. And from the years of 2001 to about 2006, he was my last major, inexplicable, totally irrational screen crush. He has appeared in thirty-four film roles to date. I've seen twenty-eight of them, including several extremely obscure independent foreign pictures, a few of which have technically never been released.
It was the damn "Gormenghast" miniseries that did it, a British fantasy with dark edges that was produced for the BBC in 2000. Rhys-Meyers played the lead, a conniving anti-hero named Steerpike. While Rhys-Meyers wasn't particularly good in the role, he was attractive, he was charismatic, he was clearly talented, and he had the most intriguing aura of potential around him. So I went and tracked down Todd Haynes' "Velvet Goldmine," where he played the film's David Bowie-esque central figure, and seemed completely unflustered by multiple nude scenes, cross-dressing, and playing gay. Then Ang Lee's "Ride With the Devil," where he was a doomed Civil War-era bushwhacker, juggling a Southern accent and action scenes. I dragged my college roommate to see Julie Taymor's "Titus," where he was one of Tamora's feral sons, who meets a wonderfully grisly end. Every time he was far from great, but there was something fascinating about his presence, and I couldn't wait to see what he was going to do in the future. I totally bought into the "next big thing" narrative that was already being constructed around him.
Clearly, from the projects he appeared in, it wasn't just me. I didn't find it difficult to work through Jonathan Rhys-Meyers' filmography, since it contained the aforementioned films, plus titles from Neil Jordan, Mike Figgis, and Michael Radford. I got introduced to several major British auteurs thanks to him. The films weren't always very good, but they were interesting, artsier stuff that fit right in with my slapdash exploration of non-mainstream cinema at the time. So for the next couple of years I followed Jonathan Rhys-Meyers' career, watching him show up in bigger and bigger projects. He got good notices for Mike Hodge's "I'll Sleep When I'm Dead" and "Bend it Like Beckham." He was part of the ensemble of Oliver Stone's notorious "Alexander." He landed the lead of Woody Allen's "Match Point," giving what I think was his best performance up to that point. And then he won a Golden Globe for playing Elvis Presley in a CBS miniseries. And he nabbed one of the smaller supporting roles in "Mission: Impossible III." Hollywood took notice then, right about the time I started losing interest.
The problem with a promising young actor embracing Hollywood is that Hollywood rarely offers the kind of challenging material that really makes the best use of their talents. After 2006, the films Jonathan Rhys-Meyers showed up in just kept getting worse and worse. There was the maudlin "August Rush," and the tone-deaf "Children of Huang Shi." By the time he showed up in Pierre Morel's "From Paris With Love," playing the straight man to John Travolta's loose cannon FBI agent, I'd given up. And then there was the Julianne Moore thriller "Shelter," which was so badly received, it was shelved for four years, and will finally be getting a limited release this spring under a new title, "6 Souls." Of course there was "The Tudors," but I stopped watching after the first season. I wasn't too taken with the show's sexed-up version of Henry the Eighth or Rhys-Meyers in the part. My infatuation with the actor wasn't really with the actor, you see. I never followed his appearances in the tabloids, his love life, or anything else about him in real life. My interest was in the actor I thought he was going to become. And when he didn't, that was the end of it.
I still like seeing Jonathan Rhys-Meyers onscreen. He's become a decent actor, and much, much improved over some of his earlier work. However, I'm not going to be rushing out to see him play the villain in "Mortal Instruments: City of Bones" next summer. And the news that he's landed the lead in NBC's new "Dracula" series fills me with neither dread nor glee. I have no doubt that he'll make a very good vampire, but that alone isn't enough to sell me on the show anymore. I'll watch the first few episodes though, because I do think that the premise - and Rhys-Meyers - still do have a lot of potential.
---
It was the damn "Gormenghast" miniseries that did it, a British fantasy with dark edges that was produced for the BBC in 2000. Rhys-Meyers played the lead, a conniving anti-hero named Steerpike. While Rhys-Meyers wasn't particularly good in the role, he was attractive, he was charismatic, he was clearly talented, and he had the most intriguing aura of potential around him. So I went and tracked down Todd Haynes' "Velvet Goldmine," where he played the film's David Bowie-esque central figure, and seemed completely unflustered by multiple nude scenes, cross-dressing, and playing gay. Then Ang Lee's "Ride With the Devil," where he was a doomed Civil War-era bushwhacker, juggling a Southern accent and action scenes. I dragged my college roommate to see Julie Taymor's "Titus," where he was one of Tamora's feral sons, who meets a wonderfully grisly end. Every time he was far from great, but there was something fascinating about his presence, and I couldn't wait to see what he was going to do in the future. I totally bought into the "next big thing" narrative that was already being constructed around him.
Clearly, from the projects he appeared in, it wasn't just me. I didn't find it difficult to work through Jonathan Rhys-Meyers' filmography, since it contained the aforementioned films, plus titles from Neil Jordan, Mike Figgis, and Michael Radford. I got introduced to several major British auteurs thanks to him. The films weren't always very good, but they were interesting, artsier stuff that fit right in with my slapdash exploration of non-mainstream cinema at the time. So for the next couple of years I followed Jonathan Rhys-Meyers' career, watching him show up in bigger and bigger projects. He got good notices for Mike Hodge's "I'll Sleep When I'm Dead" and "Bend it Like Beckham." He was part of the ensemble of Oliver Stone's notorious "Alexander." He landed the lead of Woody Allen's "Match Point," giving what I think was his best performance up to that point. And then he won a Golden Globe for playing Elvis Presley in a CBS miniseries. And he nabbed one of the smaller supporting roles in "Mission: Impossible III." Hollywood took notice then, right about the time I started losing interest.
The problem with a promising young actor embracing Hollywood is that Hollywood rarely offers the kind of challenging material that really makes the best use of their talents. After 2006, the films Jonathan Rhys-Meyers showed up in just kept getting worse and worse. There was the maudlin "August Rush," and the tone-deaf "Children of Huang Shi." By the time he showed up in Pierre Morel's "From Paris With Love," playing the straight man to John Travolta's loose cannon FBI agent, I'd given up. And then there was the Julianne Moore thriller "Shelter," which was so badly received, it was shelved for four years, and will finally be getting a limited release this spring under a new title, "6 Souls." Of course there was "The Tudors," but I stopped watching after the first season. I wasn't too taken with the show's sexed-up version of Henry the Eighth or Rhys-Meyers in the part. My infatuation with the actor wasn't really with the actor, you see. I never followed his appearances in the tabloids, his love life, or anything else about him in real life. My interest was in the actor I thought he was going to become. And when he didn't, that was the end of it.
I still like seeing Jonathan Rhys-Meyers onscreen. He's become a decent actor, and much, much improved over some of his earlier work. However, I'm not going to be rushing out to see him play the villain in "Mortal Instruments: City of Bones" next summer. And the news that he's landed the lead in NBC's new "Dracula" series fills me with neither dread nor glee. I have no doubt that he'll make a very good vampire, but that alone isn't enough to sell me on the show anymore. I'll watch the first few episodes though, because I do think that the premise - and Rhys-Meyers - still do have a lot of potential.
---
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