It has become common practice now for studios to release certain movies on download or streaming services instead of the theater. This course of action comes with certain advantages. For one, it allows them to forego the millions of dollars involved in a marketing campaign of TV spots, billboards and restaurant endorsements. For another, it solves the tricky problem of selling to the public a “tricky” movie: a film that can’t be neatly packaged and sold to a certain crowd. This is especially true of indies; this shift means more views (not to mention revenue) for features that would usually be seen in limited release on certain screens around the country while big budget blockbusters flatten them at the domestic box office.

With digital downloads ranging from $15 to $20 a piece — more than the cost of most matinee tickets these days — Hollywood bigwigs need not worry about the cumbersome task of targeting an audience and losing tons of money if they guess wrong. As a result, it’s always a crapshoot; the movie can sink or swim on its own, finding a niche or fading into oblivion with little to no risk.

Bong Joon-ho’s “Snowpiercer” is a good recent example of this. The Korean dystopian science fiction art house action film was released in the U.S. in late June, playing at only eight theaters. Five weeks into its theatrical run, it amassed a modest haul of $3.9 million. Soon after, it was released on video on demand, surprisingly raking in $3.8 million in only two weeks. In just three weeks, it had made almost $5 million, something theater sales had failed to do in six.

Acclaimed for its cinematography and visual commentary, it benefitted from this theater bypass model that looks to be the future for underdog movies that don’t stand a fighting chance against the likes of giant nuclear lizards and transforming alien robots.

The latest movie making rounds at the home box office is “Stretch,” a modestly budgeted dark comic thriller that never quite finds its footing among the genres. No wonder Universal Studios decided to rescind its March 2014 theatrical release and place it in the hands of Internet and cable providers.

The movie (released online Oct. 7 and VOD Oct. 14) was written and directed by Joe Carnahan, a guy known for his manically edited, style-over-substance cinematic outings like “Smokin’ Aces” (2007), “The A-Team” (2010) and “The Grey” (2012), all of which had better and more entertaining executions than his newest film. Carnahan’s movie style often shows a Quentin Tarantino-esque flair for turning violence into unexpected nonchalant humor that borders on the absurd.

However, “Stretch” is neither funny nor engaging enough to be considered anything but a waste of time. Patrick Wilson (“Watchmen”) stars as Stretch, a loser Hollywood limo driver with aspirations of being an actor who doesn’t believe in destiny or fate. His nickname is an obvious reference to his profession. With past gambling and drug addictions, his life is a mess but he plans to push the reset button after paying off some outstanding debts. Wilson — who played a sleazy CIA agent in Carnahan’s “A-Team” — is convincing as the poor schmoe down on his luck. His constant narration, on the other hand, is best described as annoying and totally unnecessary. When he decides to take on an eccentric billionaire as a client for one night, Stretch is placed in the crosshairs of the FBI, the terrifying henchman of a rival limo service and his former bookie. The entire experience gives him a chance to reevaluate his life and take risks he’s never dreamed of. He’s like Jim Carrey’s Fletcher Reede in “Liar Liar,” but the character’s eventual catharsis is not very satisfying. The symbolism is heavy-handed and, intentional or not, brings to mind a recurring plot device in “American Graffiti,” another tale of nightly hijinks that should probably get as far away from this movie as it can.

While Wilson gets the most screen time, it’s Chris Pine and Ed Helms who steal the show here. Pine (“Star Trek”) plays the billionaire Roger Karos, a sociopath who subsists on cocaine, whiskey and sadomasochism. Like the neo-Nazi he played in “Smokin’ Aces,” Pine truly commits to this totally ridiculous role, parachuting into the movie half naked with a beard and aviator goggles, requesting sex toys. Helms is “Karl with a K,” the perfect chauffeur who comes back from the dead to taunt Stretch. With a moustache that “he grew in Hell,” he resembles a maniacal Walt Disney, some kind of perverse spirit guide. Moreover, Helms brings along the “one night of destructive debauchery” vibe that served him well in the “Hangover” trilogy.

Ray Liotta, Norman Reedus and David Hasselhoff all have cameos as themselves with “The Hoff” getting a hilarious, unsettling tirade that covers everything from “Bay Watch” to a rather crude incident with a Viet Cong colonel. This and some creative lighting choices are some scarce highlights. Jessica Alba, James Badge Dale and Brooklyn Decker also have parts, but they’re so minimal that it’s a wonder why Carnahan hired talented names just to waste them.

At only 94 minutes, the movie is fairly short, giving it the feel of a TV episode “stretched” way beyond its running time. It’s an interesting premise rendered boring as dried paint. Instead of keeping our attention, each encounter drags on for way too long without purpose or humor to justify itself. “Stretch” can never make up its mind. It’s a comedy-action-thriller-romance with ‘80s influences for some reason (maybe the entire movie was inspired by Argyle from “Die Hard”). If a movie has an identity crisis, the audience won’t fare any better in deciphering a cohesive product among the confusion.

Overall, it was wise of Universal to deny “Stretch” a theatrical release. It may turn some kind of a profit, but it would never make hundreds of millions at the box office. Is this a problem? No, it’s just a minor dud in the interesting career of Carnahan and another fired bullet in the roulette gamble that comes with taking the digital VOD route. As the movie’s tagline so bluntly puts it, “Sh– Happens.”

Before racing pods over the desert landscape of Tatooine, George Lucas was racing cars over the streets of his hometown, Modesto, California. Over the years of cinematic history, few films have so deftly captured the essence of adolescent life and independence as “American Graffiti,” Lucas’ second directorial effort (the sci-fi “THX 1138”with Robert Duvall came first).

The personal and poignant coming-of-age story is often overshadowed by his groundbreaking blockbuster work in a galaxy far, far away that began in 1977. With the release of the more modest “Graffiti”in 1973, Lucas showed us what it was like for his generation, the baby boomers, to grow up in the 1950s and early ‘60s: racing cars, picking up girls at the local drive-in (where you could get the all-American meal of a cheeseburger, fries and a perspiring glass of cherry cola delivered to you by a waitress on roller skates), and listening to the “devil’s music” that was rock ’n’ roll.

Even 40 years later the Oscar-nominated movie still holds up, not only as a detailed period piece, but as a picturesque example of teenage life right before the Vietnam War and hippie counterculture; the twilight years of the “Leave It to Beaver,” “Father Knows Best,” and “Andy Griffith”wholesome ‘50s family values — when people still said “Golly!” “Gee whiz!” and “That’s swell!”

They really were “Happy Days” and it’s no wonder that the film reignited an interest in the time period, inspiring the television show named after those times when America enjoyed prosperity after World War II. That’s right, you have “American Graffiti” to thank for the exemplar of cool that was Henry Winkler’s Arthur Fonzarelli and his iconic catchphrase, “Ayyyy!”

Set in Lucas’ hometown (but actually filmed in Petaluma, California), “Graffiti” centers on a group of friends, recent high school graduates, who enjoy one last night of debauchery before facing the start (and trials and tribulations) of their adult lives the next morning. Throughout the course of the night, they explore personal relationships, search for love, get laid, buy alcohol illegally, mess with the cops, race cars, go to sock hops and get embroiled with gangs of greasers.

The plot switches between characters and stories in such a way that makes it feel like a vintage episode of “Game of Thrones.” Of all the actors, the three most famous that you’ll recognize are a predirectorial Ron Howard as Steve Bolander, a pre-“Jaws”and “Close Encounters”Richard Dreyfuss as Curt Henderson, and a pre-Han Solo or Indiana Jones Harrison Ford as Bob Falfa. And, like a Charlie Brown cartoon (with very few exceptions), the adults are nowhere to found, allowing the teens to cruise around in their cars and get into all kinds of trouble without any kind of supervision to speak of.

This “cruising” culture was an expression of freedom that many young people, embarrassed by their overbearing parents, can no doubt relate to in almost any decade. In particular, cars played a big part during the 1950s and early ‘60s, especially in the lives of teenagers, Lucas being no exception. Hot rods like the ’32 Deuce Coupe, ’55 Chevy, ’58 Impala, ’56 T-Bird, and ’51 Mercury are just a few of the popular vehicles associated with the time that help entrench the film in even more period detail.

One of the movie’s most defining features is its soundtrack. Foregoing an original score, Lucas chose songs from the actual time period: doo-wop and rock ’n’ roll pieces from the likes of Del Shannon, Chuck Berry, and The Beach Boys that make the experience all the more encompassing. They give off such a ‘50s vibe that you half expect a culture-shocked Marty McFly to stumble onscreen in his anachronistic ‘80s “life preserver” vest. All the while, the songs are played over the radio by Wolfman Jack, a disc jockey of the time famous for his distinct gravelly voice.

In fact, a good chunk of the small budget of  $777,000 (about $4.2 million in today’s money) went to clearing the music licensing rights and no money was left over for a traditional score. Such a move was virtually unheard of in the early ‘70s, yet, in a fortuitous turn of events, it paid off: the soundtrack produced 41 hits that you could buy as a two-record set when the movie was released in theaters. Nowadays, it’s common to hear tons of period-specific music, from Martin Scorsese’s “Goodfellas” all the way to David O. Russell’s “American Hustle.”

While we all love a good lightsaber duel and the asthmatic breathing of Darth Vader, “American Graffiti” is worth viewing because it is a lesser-known movie that proved George Lucas was capable of a literally more down-to-earth picture that was extremely close to his heart and his fellow baby boomers.

It was his love letter to his youth, like “E.T.” was for Steven Spielberg or “Super 8” for J.J. Abrams. So, before you go all Luke Skywalker by jumping into your X-Wing to blow up the Death Star, take a moment to be like The Fonz: punch the jukebox, hop into your sweet ride and rock around the clock.

The post Into the Vault: ‘American Graffiti’ appeared first on The Triangle.

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Jason Clarke of “Zero Dark Thirty” stars as Malcolm alongside some computer-generated simians. These apes are voiced by some real-life humans, including Andy Serkis as Caesar and Toby Kebbell as Koba.

George Orwell had it right when he wrote, “Four legs good, two legs bad.” This “Animal Farm” axiom is the driving theme behind “Dawn of the Planet of the Apes,” which wastes no time in reminding us that no matter how hard you try, you cannot escape the dangerous and corrupting nature of mankind.

Released July 11, the movie, directed by Matt Reeves (“Cloverfield”), is a sequel to Rupert Wyatt’s 2011 franchise reboot “Rise of the Planet of the Apes.” Rare for most follow-ups, this installment exceeds its predecessor in almost every way imaginable with its seamless special effects, superb drama, and an emotionally complex and dark storyline that you wouldn’t initially expect from a big budget sci-fi summer blockbuster.

Luckily for lazy viewers, an opening sequence provides all the necessary exposition and repercussions from the first movie’s plot: a virus known as “Simian Flu” has brought the human race to the brink of extinction (“12 Monkeys,” anyone?) while ape-kind has only benefitted, becoming smarter and forming their own organized horse-riding society in the rain-soaked forests of Northern California. Meanwhile, a small outpost of people fights for survival in the run-down urban jungle of San Francisco. But who really cares about them?

Despite a cast of A-list human characters, the apes are the greatest part of the movie. You won’t find any goofy-looking John Chambers make-up here. These simians are made from the best motion capture effects studio money can buy. A breathtaking opening scene of monkeys hunting deer from the tree tops will only strengthen the argument for the use of such technology in today’s movies.

Unlike most blockbusters, the effects don’t overpower the movie (I’m looking at you, Michael Bay), but they stand alone as an integral part of the film and its overall storytelling much like they did in “Avatar.”

You’ll almost feel like an anthropologist as you get in-depth looks into the civilization of genetically and intellectually superior apes. They’re peace-loving (“ape not kill ape” is their modus operandi) and led by Caesar, a chimp who was raised by humans (James Franco to be exact). Caesar is played by Andy Serkis, who made the case for motion capture years ago as Gollum in the “Lord of the Rings” movies. Since then, he’s brought other compelling characters to life in the same way with “King Kong” and “The Adventures of Tin Tin.”

Caesar is no exception and Serkis plays him as the product of two worlds, discovering that ape ideals and human ideals aren’t as different as they once appeared to be. Seriously, this dude needs an Oscar nomination or at least a separate category for this line of performance. By the end, you may wonder how it was so easy to adore a monkey.

The rest of the apes are just as interesting, especially Caesar’s two closest advisors: Maurice and Koba, an orangutan and chimpanzee played by Karin Konoval and Toby Kebbell, respectively. Maurice is more of an intellectual, while Koba can only be described as a “damn dirty ape” that has a strong distrust of humans. You can’t really blame the guy because they kept him in cages and experimented on him before the simian revolution of the first movie. He’s a terrifying, unpredictable loose cannon and his shocking actions prove that the leap between ape and man isn’t very far. In sum, he has a tendency to go — forgive the horrid pun — total ape shit.

Still, it wouldn’t be fair to not recognize all the great actors in this movie who aren’t covered in fur. Gary Oldman (“RoboCop”) plays Dreyfus, the leader of the remaining humans, who, because he doesn’t think of the apes as capable of intelligence, goes a little bananas. Many people share his distrust and it isn’t hard to see why, since walking and talking apes may cause you to feel a bit uneasy.

Jason Clarke’s character, Malcolm, is the most rational-minded of the survivors, treating the apes with respect and forming a bond with Caesar. These actors give fine performances that are laced with convincing emotional backstories for their motivations, especially Clarke who is as intense here as he was in “Zero Dark Thirty.” But the more time you spend with man, the more you’d rather hang with the apes. After all, the humans are made out to be the dumb animals, bringing guns and ignorance to the party.

Things heat up when the humans encroach on ape territory in order to fix a dam and restore power to their settlement. The greatest suspense of the movie is watching the tensions between the two groups boil over into all-out war. The plot has everything you could ever want and all the makings of a Shakespearean tragedy: action, romance and betrayal. Michael Giacchino’s ominous score is the perfect complement, full of jungle beats that mirror his work on “Star Trek Into Darkness” and even a bit of John Williams’ from “Jurassic Park.”

The “Planet of the Apes” franchise has definitely come a long way since Charlton Heston crash-landed on Earth to find monkeys as the dominant species and the Statue of Liberty half-buried in the sand. Four tepid sequels and one unspeakable Tim Burton reboot later, the series has finally returned to the level of greatness that is associated with the one that started it all.

And like the 1968 original, a metaphor for racism and the Civil Rights Movement of the decade, “Dawn” contains a similar message: even intelligent beings are capable of evil, cruelty and intolerance. There’s still a lot of ground to cover and stories to be told before humans actually “blow it up,” but I for one welcome our new ape overlords with open arms.

The post No monkeying around in latest entry in ‘Apes’ series appeared first on The Triangle.

Paramount Pictures MCT Campus
Mark Wahlberg (left) plays Cade Yeager in “Transformers: Age of Extinction” alongside Nicola Peltz (center) and T.J. Miller (right). This is the fourth installment in the “Transformers” series, all of which have been directed by Michael Bay.

Half sequel, half reboot, “Transformers: Age of Extinction” is one of those movies that never really justifies its existence. The latest entry in the filmography of Michael Bay—the one director whose finger is never too far from the explosives button—“Extinction” revisits Hasbro’s lovable, shape-shifting robots in disguise for the fourth time since 2007. In previous installments, the franchise has been uneven and criticized for racism and characters you couldn’t tell apart, but it also had a certain charm.

You’ll find none of that here.

Bay ratchets the dreaded sequel rule up to 11 in the only way he knows how: the explosions are bigger, the characters are thinner, the cuts are more erratic and the plot is incredibly inconceivable.

For this latest round of mindless action, we return to Michael Bay Land where the people are beautiful and death is really lazy at doing his job; where life is incredibly cool and stupid all at once. There’s a brand new cast of characters that don’t really matter one bit except to provide some sort of human presence amidst the badass metal-on-metal battles between alien robots.

Take, for instance, Cade Yeager (Mark Wahlberg), an inventor down on his luck with the kind of frat boy name you’d expect from a male protagonist in a Bay film. He’s a single father of an impossibly gorgeous daughter, Tessa (Nicola Peltz).

In their ragtag group of walking cliches are T.J. Miller as the token comedic relief, who is disposed of once it’s time for the wisecracking Transformers to come onscreen and relieve him of the title, and Jack Reynor as Tessa’s boyfriend, Shane. That’s all you need to know about them because their significance is reduced to zero after they’re introduced.

Wahlberg is the most captivating of them all and tries his best, but it’s just not enough to save his character from sinking into the mundane muck as Bay plays with his toys, racking up millions of dollars in CGI property damage.

Trying to put his daughter through college with his malfunctioning inventions, Yeager buys a broken down truck that turns out to be the weakened, exiled Optimus Prime. This sweeps the inventor and his sidekicks into a mess of a plot, which involves an intergalactic war, the CIA, and gratuitous product placement of Oreo, Bud Light, and Victoria’s Secret (as if Bay needs to remind us of his penchant for exploiting the female form in his movies).

Sadly, too many of the storylines and motivations are introduced with no backstory or are just plain dumb, clouding any coherence that the movie may have had, asking us to accept everything, no questions asked.

The world in which “Extinction” takes place is a fascinating one. Humanity is recovering from the battle in Chicago that took place in the last installment, “Transformers: Dark of the Moon.” Transformers are being hunted down, there’s a hotline to report alien activity and scientific corporations are secretly building their own brand of mercurial bots.

In the hands of a more competent director, this could be intriguing, providing commentary on personal and political life in the wake of such an event. Bay’s profound retort on the matter? Loud noises! Hot and semi-naked women! Poor musical choices at the wrong moments! And, surprisingly, the movie is still pretty boring despite its overstuffed narrative, continually picking up momentum and then, without warning, screeching to a halt.

Ehren Kruger’s screenplay could actually use a boost of energy from Shia LaBeouf’s twitchy, screaming Sam Witwicky.

The only thing more inexcusable than a dumb plot in a Michael Bay film is how respectable actors give ridiculous, unconvincing performances under his direction. We saw it with John Tuturro, Alan Tudyk, John Malkovich and Frances McDormand. Now, Stanley Tucci and Kelsey Grammer step up to make fools of themselves as a multibillionaire creating amazing scientific advancements and a CIA agent with shady intentions, respectively.

Mostly, they’re just after “The Seed,” another MacGuffin like the All Spark or Matrix of Leadership that can create “Transformium,” the morphing metal that the robots are made out of.

The movie’s only redeeming quality is the robot action, especially with the introduction of some shiny (pun intended) new faces along with the old ones. We’ve got Prime and Bumblebee, but there’s also the cigar-munching Hound (John Goodman having the time of his life) and the samurai sword-wielding Drift (Ken Watanabe). More importantly, the movie has the awesome Dinobots! Once you see Optimus Prime riding on the back of a giant fire-breathing metallic Tyrannosaurus rex, your ticket is paid in full (however fleetingly) with action figure nostalgia.

The fight scenes are amazing and the Imax cinematography is absolutely beautiful, from Texas farmlands to lush Chinese valleys. Perhaps Bay should have forgotten the robots and just made a documentary instead.

Almost three hours long, “Extinction” has no claim to its running time due to its eventual tediousness. Bay has said that he makes movies for teenage boys, and there’s nothing wrong with that. He’s even got some well-placed, self-aware jokes about the cinematic cavalcade of sequels, reboots and Imax that today’s kids are given, but this is somewhat of an insult to the hormonal and attention span-less demographic that he’s trying to appeal to.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say that an inexperienced adolescent was calling the shots behind the camera. A real shame, because I was super excited for this movie and prepared to love it like I did the first three. Alas, like a dead Transformer, it has no spark.

The post Bay disappoints audiences with latest ‘Transformers’ appeared first on The Triangle.

If you’ve ever watched a movie set in the 1970s, chances are you probably heard at least one song by Electric Light Orchestra, a British rock group whose music, aside from being extremely entertaining, has become a permanent fixture of ’70s pop culture for their unique sound — a defining feature of the time like afros, bell bottoms and the word “groovy.” Their sound is the ingenious fusion of modern rock and pop songs with classical arrangements of violins, cellos, strings basses, horns and woodwinds (hence the “Orchestra” part).

In addition, ELO wouldn’t be what it was if not for Jeff Lynne, the lead vocalist who wrote and arranged all of the group’s original songs, produced every album, played multiple instruments, and who ended up being the longest-running band member.

Starting with their debut single “10538 Overture” (most recently featured in David O. Russell’s “American Hustle”) on its first record “The Electric Light Orchestra,” the Birmingham England-based group released a steady stream of hits between 1971 and 1986 across twelve albums.

In particular, one of those albums, “Discovery,” just celebrated its 35th anniversary. Released in the late spring/early summer of 1979, it was the group’s first number one record in the United Kingdom, retaining that position for five weeks. It also contains one of the two ELO songs that you’re probably most familiar with, “Don’t Bring Me Down.”

Their biggest hit in the US and the last entry on the record’s B side, this song is one of the louder and rockier songs on the album with its recognizable electric guitar riff; like “Do Ya” and “Rockaria” on their 1976 album, “A New World Record,” it’s a much harsher sound compared to the rest of the songs on the album.

While Lynne wrote it late in the recording sessions, “Down” is probably the most iconic one off the album, having been used in such films as “Donnie Brasco” and “Super 8,” as well as in a few television shows and a video game.

Perhaps one of the oddest and most unique songs from “Discovery” is “The Diary of Horace Wimp,” which tells the story of an introverted guy who finds love thanks to the advice from “a voice from above.” What sets “Horace” apart is its extensive use of the vocoder, a machine that is used to reproduce human speech, which imparts a robotic vibe to the entire piece.

“Confusion” contains a similar sound, but was created with a synthesizer, a Yamaha CS-80, instead. “Wimp” has been called “Beatlesque” and compared to an earlier ELO song from their 1977 album “Out of the Blue:” “Mr. Blue Sky.”

“Last Train to London” and “Shine a Little Love” are the most period-specific songs on the album with their more disco-like beats. This isn’t surprising as the disco era was in full swing in 1979; The Bee Gees’ hits like “Stayin’ Alive” and “You Should Be Dancing” had brought the genre into the mainstream only two years previously with “Saturday Night Fever.”

In fact, the disco influence was so heavy that ELO keyboardist Richard Tandy nicknamed the album “Disco Very.” In particular, “Shine” features a forty-piece string section and electric guitar, resulting in a groovy fusion of classic and modern sensations.

“Discovery” slows down quite a bit when you reach “Need Her Love,” “Midnight Blue,” and “Wishing,” tender songs about love in one way or another.

“Need” features almost no guitar, allowing the cellos, violin and keyboard to create an ethereal and lofty background. “Blue” and “Wishing” have similar set-ups, but the bass is a lot more recognizable in an almost soulful kind of way. The more poppy “On The Run” speeds things up and contains a more spritely variation of the well-known keyboard sounds of the ’60s. Its energy mirrors that of “So Fine” from “A New World Record.”

Like any ELO album since 1976, the album artwork of “Discovery” features the famous Kosh-designed Simon-ish logo, which is actually based on a Wurlitzer jukebox model from 1946. Music videos were also produced for each song, containing colorful animations of pinball machines and neon hot dogs, as well as Lynne, complete with perm and dark glasses.

Also worth checking out is the 2001 edition, which features previously unreleased tracks — like a cover of Del Shannon’s “Little Town Flirt,” a homage to the doo-wop ’50s tunes that inspired Lynne to become a musician.

Like any worthy classic rock group, ELO deserves to be enjoyed in vinyl and all of its scratchy glory. While it didn’t produce a ton of hits, it’s a great example of the band’s distinctive craft and their dabbling in a genre specific to the decade. What better great way to end off the 70s?!

They, like The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Who, and Led Zeppelin, proved that Brits could create some damn good rock ’n’ roll. But, while bands like Zeppelin were known for their hard rock, ELO was different with more melodic and lyrical songs.

So while enjoying your summer, forego the dub step and rap and enjoy some of the aforementioned songs. It would be an awful shame to see such a great band fall into obscurity. To quote “Livin’ Thing,” “What a terrible thing to lose.”

The post You should be celebrating: ELO’s ‘Discovery’ appeared first on The Triangle.

Lorey Sebastian MCT Campus
“A Million Ways to Die in the West,” Seth MacFarlane’s latest film, stars (from left to right) Amanda Seyfried, Neil Patrick Harris, Seth MacFarlane and Charlize Theron. Liam Neeson is also featured in the film, as the villain Clinch Leatherwood.

In 2012, Seth MacFarlane proved that a story about a foul-mouthed teddy bear (“Ted”) could become the highest grossing original R-rated comedy of all time. Now, the “Family Guy” creator/voice actor proves that he isn’t infallible with his second directorial feature, “A Million Ways to Die in the West.”

Released May 30, the movie is a tepid Western comedy that attempts to recreate the satirical nature of Mel Brooks’ 1974 classic “Blazing Saddles,” but instead comes off as a less entertaining, R-rated version of “Back To The Future Part III.”

The movie takes place in 1882 Arizona and, instead of focusing on gunslinging cowboys and Conestoga wagon pioneers, centers around Albert Stark (MacFarlane), a nebbish sheep farmer who despises the Old West, going so far as to describe it as “a terrible place in time.” This self-awareness is the film’s greatest comedic strength as Stark is more comparable to a time traveler (Marty McFly cough cough) that points out just how backward the historical period really is, from medieval medical treatments to racist carnival games to numerous death traps that give the movie its name. Even his speech, curse words and modern colloquialisms are anachronistic. He’s more of a fish out of water than Gene Wilder’s Polish rabbi in “The Frisco Kid.”

After his girlfriend (Amanda Seyfried) breaks up with him, Albert befriends Anna (Charlize Theron), an enigmatic newcomer to the town of Old Stump who teaches him to be a braver and more confident person when it comes to properly firing guns and courting the opposite sex. Unbeknown to Albert, however, she is the wife of Clinch Leatherwood, the most dangerous outlaw in the territory, played by a sadly underused Liam Neeson. Theron, usually known for more dramatic endeavors, proves that she can hold her own in a comedy as a strong female character to rival MacFarlane’s wise-cracking Albert.

Other outstanding characters are Giovanni Ribisi and Sarah Silverman as Albert’s best friends, Edward and Ruth. They want to wait until marriage to have sex despite the fact that Ruth, a prostitute, sleeps with a dozen guys on a daily basis (the recounting of her sexual exploits are delightfully inappropriate). Neil Patrick Harris is also top-notch as Foy, the lady-stealing owner of the town’s Moustachery; a Barney Stinson of the Old West, if you will.

Along the way, the script (written by the usual trio of MacFarlane, Alec Sulkin and Wellesley Wild) pokes fun at the usual genre cliches like high noon standoffs, destructive saloon fights, and the struggle between settlers and Native Americans. The only problem is that the jokes are too far apart and most of the moments that are supposed to be funny were completely ruined by the trailers, including an amazing nod of the ten gallon hat to one of the greatest movie trilogies of all time (I won’t ruin it here if by some miracle you have no idea what I’m talking about). To be fair, the few moments that aren’t spoiled are laugh-out-loud funny.

What remains is a plethora of tactics that you can always expect from the MacFarlane bag of tricks: poop/fart gags, pop culture references galore, some catchy musical numbers and a bunch of celebrity cameos that range from the totally random to the totally hilarious. And, of course, there are people dying left and right in the most gruesome, bizarre and rib-tickling ways imaginable. “A Million Ways to Die in the West” is by no means as funny as it thinks it is or as it should be, but the director’s acerbic, no-holds-barred brand of humor does offer some pretty clever insight about the time period, culture and life in general.

Overall, the movie feels like a waste of potential as the Western genre has been influencing our culture since the days of radio programs. Yes, there are some beautiful landscape shots of desert mesas that evoke thoughts of John Ford, and Joel McNeely’s score is adventurous and bold, conjuring images of brave men and women conquering the untamed majesty of the frontier. However, if you’re going to make an all-encompassing parody of said genre, you have to touch on all of its iconic representations from Clint Eastwood/Sergio Leone spaghetti westerns to John Wayne’s “Howdy, Pilgrim,” and everything in between.

Perhaps Westerns just don’t make for popular (or profitable) movies anymore. Gore Verbinski’s “The Lone Ranger” proved that last year and now it seems like cinematic history is repeating itself. The “virgin territory” is no longer virgin, pillaged over and over again for its excitement that has long since faded away. MacFarlane might do well to take a note from Captain Kirk and make a sci-fi comedy about the final frontier that exists in the modern age: space. Until then, I guess “Ted 2” will suffice.

The post MacFarlane’s latest effort doesn’t reach its potential appeared first on The Triangle.

MCT Campus Alan Markfield
Ellen Page (left) and Shawn Ashmore (right) star in “X-Men: Days of Future Past.” Page plays Kitty Pryde, also known as Shadowcat, a mutant who has the ability to send a person’s consciousness back in time. The film premiered May 23.

Superheroes and alternate history go hand in hand; just look at Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons’ “Watchmen,” which had America victorious in the Vietnam War, Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein murdered before they could expose Watergate, and Richard Nixon elected to a fifth term in office all thanks to the existence of caped crusaders.

“X-Men: Days of Future Past” (released May 23) plays around with the Paris Peace Accords and “Tricky Dick” Nixon in the very same way, placing superhuman characters in the thick of actual events for one of the greatest time travel romps since “Back To The Future” and what could be the greatest cinematic experience of the summer.

Based on Chris Claremont and John Byrne’s 1981 comic book storyline of the same name (the fourth X-Men film to be inspired by Claremont’s work), The movie is a sequel to the original “X-Men” trilogy, Matthew Vaughn’s “X-Men: First Class,” and the two “Wolverine” spin-offs, reuniting their ensemble casts while solving most of the large pile of blaring continuity issues between them. Having started the entire franchise back in 2000, Bryan Singer (“The Usual Suspects”) returned as director once Vaughn dropped out to pursue another comic book adaptation, “Kingsman: The Secret Service.”

“Days of Future Past” begins in a bleak “Terminator”-esque future where menacing robots known as Sentinels hunt down and terminate mutants ,as well as any human who has the genetic capacity to produce a mutant child. As a small group of remaining X-Men faces certain annihilation, Kitty Pryde/Shadowcat (Ellen Page) sends the immortal Wolverine’s consciousness back to 1973 so he can stop the Sentinel program from ever coming to fruition.

Stepping into the role for the seventh time, Hugh Jackman is gruff, yet lovable as the Adamantium-clawed, self-healing, cigar-smoking mutant who is tasked with recruiting the help of young Charles Xavier (Professor X) and Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto). This proves difficult as Charles has become a shaggy and hopeless man due to the closing of his school, while Erik, a Holocaust survivor tired of enough discrimination for one lifetime, has been imprisoned beneath the Pentagon for assassinating John F. Kennedy. He is accused of using his powers to bend one of Oswald’s bullets (a clever parallel to the “Magic Bullet” theory in our universe).

James McAvoy (Xavier) and Michael Fassbender (Lehnsherr) reprise their roles from “First Class” and exceed the work done by Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellen over the course of the franchise. They really understand what makes these wounded characters tick, the pain and darkness lurking just beneath the surface that determine either redemption or monstrousness.

Since most of the plot takes place in the 1970s, Singer not only constructs a satisfying superhero film, but an accurate period piece to boot. From grainy Super 8 footage, to clothing, to television shows playing in the background, there’s a nostalgic appeal that can only be conveyed by William Shatner’s Captain Kirk or Quincy Jones’ theme to “Sanford & Son.”

While there aren’t many songs from the big-haired, vinyl era, the ones featured are perfect; hits by Roberta Flack and Jim Croce are used sparingly to subtly remind us where we are. Musical saturation and some of its cliches were avoided like “Fortunate Son” in scenes involving ‘Nam. Forget “American Hustle,” this is the best ‘70s movie you’ll see all year!

Like “Captain America: The Winter Solider” did, this “X-Men” outing pays homage to some of the great political thrillers of the ‘70s (e.g., “All The President’s Men,” “Three Days of the Condor”). Conspiracy plays an important role in the movie’s plot with Mystique (Jennifer Lawrence is perfect as the sexy flower power, shape-shifting mutant freedom fighter) doing some The Washington Post-like snooping into Bolivar Trask, the creator of the Sentinels who likes to do some pretty heinous genetic research on mutants. Trask is played by a calculating Peter Dinklage, disguised behind thick, era-appropriate glasses and facial hair.

At just over two hours, the movie feels longer than it is, but never drags on. Despite its massive scope, Simon Kinberg’s screenplay is just the right mix of action, sci-fi mumbo jumbo and character development. It’s chock full of familiar faces (and new ones), smart dialogue, inspiring speeches and breathtaking set pieces like a sports stadium being lowered onto the White House lawn or a hilarious slo-mo prison break with the speedy Quicksilver (newcomer Evan Peters) that gives a whole new meaning to the phrase “movie magic.” There’s even a foreboding look at the 2016 sequel, “X-Men: Apocalypse.”

It’s no coincidence that the movie is set in the ‘70s (or released Memorial Day weekend for that matter). It tackles a pretty turbulent era when the U.S. finally lost a war and Americans lost faith in their own government. It was also during this time that different demographics fought hard for equal rights. The plight of the mutants who hid due to discrimination and suffered xenophobia is a metaphor for African Americans, homosexuals and women who have all made huge leaps forward in their respective crusades for equality during the decade. Unlike most Marvel features, “Days of Future Past” is more mature and resonates superhero escapism. Like Cerebro, it’ll broaden your horizons and blow your mind in equal doses.

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Kimberley French MCT Campus Bryan Cranston (pictured) stars as scientist Joe Brody in the Gareth Edwards remake of the 1954 classic monster movie “Godzilla.” The movie hit theaters May 16 and has since pulled in over $200 million at the box office.

The kaiju are back, and this time there aren’t any giant human-piloted robots to protect us! Humanity’s only defense against malevolent skyscraper-sized monsters in Gareth Edwards’ “Godzilla” is the spiked, city-destroying, atomic-breathing King of Monsters himself. Released May 16, the movie is an epic reboot of the franchise and legacy started 60 years ago by the Toho Motion Picture Co. with Ishiro Honda’s 1954 B-movie classic, bringing dignity and a badass redesign to the beast who has become somewhat of a joke over the years.

While this is only the director’s second feature and his first big popcorn flick, he works with the skill and eye for detail of a younger Steven Spielberg, evoking genuine wonder and thrills with a creature feature that will both make you feel like a kid again and completely wipe the 1998 Matthew Broderick version from your mind.

It seems like Edwards’ first movie, “Monsters” (2010), a story about aliens being quarantined on the U.S.-Mexico border by the government, was good practice before he tackled the most iconic monster of them all, who has heavily inspired popular culture (from Reptar to Power Rangers villains) since he first stepped out of the sea. Unlike his Cold War counterpart, this Godzilla is not a product of nuclear radiation (somewhat of a disappointment for me) but is instead an ancient creature, a force of nature that was awoken in the 1950s and targeted in government-sanctioned atomic bombings in the Pacific (e.g., Bikini Atoll) that had been covered up as “tests.” This is all shown in a cool redacted opening credit sequence full of grainy footage.

The movie follows multiple sets of characters as they come into contact with Godzilla and his nemeses, the terrifying MUTO (Massive Unidentified Terrestrial Organisms), Mothra-like parasites who feed off of radiation, emit electromagnetic pulses and get more screen time than the title character. Of all the storylines, the most captivating is that of Ford Brody (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) and his father, Joe (Bryan Cranston). As stated by others, it’s these characters who keep the movie relatable amid giant monsters beating the snot out of each other.

Their story begins when a nuclear power plant in Japan collapses due to a supposed earthquake, killing Ford’s mother (Juliette Binoche). As a result his father goes somewhat insane, concocting crackpot theories that turn out to be correct and dragging his son into the thick of the action. While he doesn’t spend too much time on the screen, Cranston is amazing as usual, stealing every scene he’s in as an obsessed man who will stop at nothing to discover the truth. Like any good B-monster movie, the military eventually gets involved and is woefully ill-equipped to handle the situation, relying on the giant lizard to restore balance to nature.

Thanks to the plot points of cover-ups, secret facilities and foreign scientists, the movie emits a “Close Encounters” vibe that harkens back to the early days of summer blockbusters in the ‘70s. Taylor-Johnson steps into the Richard Dreyfuss/Roy Neary role as a simple family man who gets caught up in something much bigger than himself. Reminiscent of Francois Truffaut’s Claude Lacombe is Ken Watanabe as Dr. Ishiro Serizawa; a nod to Godzilla’s Japanese origins and the physical embodiment of the nuclear bombings on Japan during World War II.

His character also switches the warning of the original film from the fear of atomic might to man’s ignorant belief that he can control nature. Furthering the Spielberg comparisons, Edwards has some shots that say more than dialogue ever could, be it a cockroach crawling over a toy tank or a coffee table littered with a young boy’s plastic dinosaurs. There’s even a small wink to one of Toho’s other “Big Five” monsters, Rodan, in a children’s schoolroom.

At times, the plot does stall during the human-centric moments (when they could show more Godzilla/MUTO brawls, which are the coolest and most destructive scenes in the movie), and Max Borenstein’s script has a few preposterous moments and plot conveniences. That being said, when has a monster movie ever not been preposterous, especially the ones made in the ‘50s with their laughable special effects and men in costume destroying model cities? Here, the effects are amazing, lending themselves to some great sequences like a speeding train on fire, fighter planes falling like flies into the San Francisco Bay, the destruction of Las Vegas after a visit to a Nevada nuclear storage facility, a melee at a Hawaiian airport just after a tsunami that signals the king’s arrival, and an exciting final battle in the streets of San Francisco that had the audience cheering in their seats. It seems that after taking many hits over the years, Tokyo was finally spared this time around. Setting the mood for every scene, Alexandre Desplat’s sweeping, horn-filled score has a presence as massive as the creatures themselves, redolent of the cues used by Akira Ifukube on the 1954 soundtrack.

With the release of Guillermo Del Toro’s “Pacific Rim” last year, it would seem that Hollywood has successfully resurrected the kaiju/nuclear monster genre, finding a nice balance between campy and serious elements in the plot lines. A new strain of respectable, well-produced B-movies has been created. Perhaps they can also bring back the best elements of the era in which they were born, like drive-in theaters where audiences once screamed in terror at the giant, irradiated ants in “Them!” and listened thoughtfully to the wise message of our own destructive habits by the alien Klaatu in “The Day The Earth Stood Still.” With Edwards’ contribution, I’d say we’ve taken a Godzilla-sized step in the right direction.

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Superman exists, and he’s American. Intentionally or not, Hollywood’s obsession with Marvel and DC subject material has led to a pseudo-repetition of the evolutionary stages of the caped crusader in comics while simultaneously making him more prominent in popular culture than ever before. He is not just for comic book fans anymore.

The superheroes we all know and love were born in a period known as the Golden Age of Comic Books, an era that lasted roughly from the late 1930s until 1950. During this time, Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman were born from the wombs of their creators’ imaginations: Joe Shuster, Jerry Siegel, Bob Kane and William Moulton Marston.

After the popularity of superheroes declined after WWII, they were made relevant again by the Silver Age, which ran from 1956 to 1970. Here, writers and artists like Stan Lee, Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko made their marks on the world of comics by reinventing established characters like the Flash or creating new ones like Spider-Man.

The Bronze Age, from 1970 to 1985, saw darker plot lines and relevant social commentary, a major divergence from the campier tones of previous eras. This was furthered in 1986 with the publications of Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons’ “Watchmen” and Frank Miller’s “Batman: The Dark Knight Returns.” Both were unflinching visions of the superhero genre and, together, ushered in the Modern Age of comics and the birth of the graphic novel, which both persist into today.

While superhero movies have technically been around since the days of film serials, many of them have been poorly received or fallen into obscurity over the years. The main obstacle is imparting realism and emotional resonance into an exaggerated version of reality. Perhaps the most iconic superhero films of the 20th century were Richard Donner’s “Superman” and Tim Burton’s “Batman” films, yet they still fell victim to the campy pitfalls that only work in print. With their cheesy one-liners and laughable special effects, they represent the Golden Age of superheroes in cinema, more akin to the archetypes and styles first established in the ‘30s and ‘40s.

It wasn’t until the turn of the century that Hollywood brought superheroes back into the public consciousness by reinvention like Stan Lee, Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko did so long ago in the Silver Age while the social relevance of the Bronze Age also played its hand. In 2008, Jon Favreau took “Iron Man” out of Vietnam and set him against the backdrop of the War in Afghanistan. Bryan Singer’s first “X-Men” movie centered on refashioned heroes — once reflections of the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s — who were now metaphors for modern alienation for simply being different. The fact that Magneto was a Holocaust survivor speaks to the fact that the themes of discrimination and intolerance are timeless and can be ascribed to any era.

Sam Raimi’s “Spider-Man” placed the sticky-fingered hero into a modern day New York City, his arch-enemies representing the possible dangers of technological advancement. With modern technology that gives us more control over the everyday (one could say that it gives us superpower over the surrounding environment), Ben Parker’s “with great power comes great responsibility” was beginning to sound more and more relevant.

Soon enough, superhero movies were taking a turn for the dark and brooding as their comic book counterparts did in the Bronze Age. We can probably pinpoint the birth of the thinking man’s superhero film with Christopher Nolan’s “Batman Begins.” In it, you can also see traces of the Modern Age with its treasure trove of antiheroes, moral ambiguity and psychological complexity.

By tackling the Dark Knight of Gotham City, Nolan brought more realism to the character, who in the 1960s was an advocate of doing homework, wearing seat belts and drinking milk to grow up strong. This was a Batman for the Modern Age, a hero whose actions could not be considered completely devoid of sin. In addition, there were flickers of current day fears of terrorism and taking on responsibility in a topsy-turvy world.

Nolan’s approach to Batman made Hollywood think that it was finally time for a “Watchmen” adaptation, an adult-oriented comic book that was long thought to be unfilmable. Still, its overarching question is the mindset that is now used when producing a superhero movie: “What would the world be like if superheroes existed?”

Most likely a god-like superman such as Dr. Manhattan would be apathetic toward humanity and would have a profound impact on geopolitics. He would have no practical use for “Truth, Justice and The American Way.”

Like Orson Welles said, “The classy gangster is a Hollywood invention.” So too would the completely valiant and righteous superhero archetype probably never exist in the real world. More recently, Zack Snyder’s “Man of Steel” supposed that our military would be in an uproar with the revelation of the existence of aliens; a similar thought proposed by Joss Whedon’s “The Avengers” in a more light-hearted way.

Thanks to movies, we are living in the age of the superhero, a being that represents sense in a nonsensical world. They may not be the heroes we deserve, but definitely the ones we need, and they evolve accordingly with the world so as to save us from what current issues frighten us most.

With the establishment of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, there has been a recent and heavy influx of superhero movies. This year alone, there will have been three movies from Marvel Studios at Disney, which has films stretching all the way into 2028. Sony, and 20th Century Fox are not far behind, releasing “The Amazing Spider-Man 2” and “X-Men: Days of Future Past,” the latter of which has mutants playing a large role in the course of American history.

Moreover, Warner Bros. is taking a lesson from Marvel, trying to tie together the DC universe with a more grounded and mature approach: a Justice League movie. Before that, Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman and Cyborg will be seen in Zack Snyder’s sequel to “Man of Steel.”
While superhero properties have proven themselves extremely lucrative for studios, one may wonder if audiences will tire of them if the market becomes saturated with masked vigilantes, talking raccoons, mutants, galactic gunslingers, web-slingers, lasso/hammer swingers, sentient plant life, and god-like beings. All I can say for sure is that soon we’re going to need a multiverse in order to contain them all.

Josh Weiss is a sophomore communications major at Drexel University. He can be contacted at josh.weiss@thetriangle.org.

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Of all the movies, in all the theaters, in all the world, “Casablanca” is a piece of cinematic history that only gets better as time goes by. It’s one of those films that’s constantly referenced and parodied in popular culture, but never recognized by the young folk who listen to that confounded rock music and won’t get off my lawn. While it was released over 70 years ago, the black-and-white Warner Brothers picture is not solely reserved for the viewing pleasure of senior citizens. There are no fancy shmancy special effects or explosions. There is no gratuitous nudity or profane language. There is no color! I know it’s hard to imagine a time when the moving pictures didn’t appeal to our basic animalistic urges, but this was the Golden Age of Hollywood, folks: when characters were actually important and sex was only hinted at. More importantly, this was the age of Humphrey Bogart.

Humphrey DeForest Bogart is the man that all other men strive to be but fail at being rather miserably. Forget the Dos Equis guy, Bogart was the original “Most Interesting Man In The World.” Always quick with snappy dialogue, his characters were the very epitome of class, charm and fortitude. After all, this is the man who started the infamous Rat Pack of the mid-20th century. Whether he was playing a private detective, gangster or nightclub owner, Bogart’s smart-talking, chain-smoking and alcohol-guzzling demeanor never got old (sadly, it’s also what killed him at the spry young age of 57). In the cynical and sexually motivated film noir world of trench coats and fedoras, he truly was the hardboiled king.

While Bogart’s filmography is vast, “Casablanca” is perhaps the most famous testament to his unforgettable acting chops. Adapted from Murray Burnett and Joan Alison’s unproduced play “Everybody Comes To Rick’s,” the movie focuses on Rick Blaine, the American owner of a nightclub in the French protectorate of Morocco during World War II. A veritable den on iniquity (the holy trinity of booze, gambling and women), the club attracts French and German officials as well as refugees looking to get the hell out of war-torn Europe and into the United States. Per usual, Bogart portrays Rick as a stone-faced, no nonsense kind of fella with a heart of gold buried under a pile of distrust and bitterness. Despite taking place in a desert, things really start to heat up when his former lover, Ilsa Lund (Ingrid Bergman), a femme fatale of sorts, shows up out of the blue with another man, Victor Laszlo (Paul Henreid). All the while, Max Steiner’s (“King Kong” and “Gone With The Wind”) romantic, ominous and exotic score helps set the mood for every scene. Along for the ride are Claude Rains, Peter Lorre and Sydney Greenstreet; the last two had worked with Bogart on 1941’s “The Maltese Falcon,” along with cinematographer Arthur Edeson. What follows is a tale of deception, sexual undertones, heartbreak and extremely quotable lines. Who hasn’t looked, raised a glass of liquor and said in their best Bogart voice: “Here’s looking at you, kid”?

The most fascinating aspect of “Casablanca” is that it’s a war picture cavorting around under the guises of a love story. In doing so, it’s able to explore such themes as righteousness in times of moral crisis, the Nazis’ persecution of Jews, and the disastrous and far-reaching effects of a worldwide conflict. It almost makes you believe that love is a powerful enough weapon to defeat the Nazis. Moreover, it premiered in November 1942 to take advantage of the Allied invasion of North Africa, while the general release in 1943 coincided with the Allied conference in Casablanca between America, Great Britain and France. As Patton and Rommel were butting heads, Michael Curtiz’s (he also directed Bogart in three other films before “Casablanca”) film slightly romanticizes the war by heightening the emotions and downplaying the violence. It’s not “Saving Private Ryan,” that’s for sure!

While it is not strictly considered a noir because of its optimistic ending, “Casablanca” still contains many aspects of the genre that was big in American cinema during the ‘40s and ‘50s. Interestingly, nobody involved in the production expected the picture to be anything special despite the A-list cast and writers. After all, Hollywood cranked out hundreds of movies a year. In retrospect, it’s nice to see that these black-and-white masterpieces have withstood the test of time compared to the crappy blockbusters and romcoms of today. It often annoys me when younger people say that they don’t watch monochromatic features because they’re boring. Just because something is colorless doesn’t mean that it’s completely devoid of any moxy. In a lot of ways, black-and-white holds more mystery and allure than anything playing at your local movie house right now.

Sometimes, more can be done with a meager studio in Burbank, Calif., than extravagant shoots in faraway countries. And don’t you even think of watching the blasphemous colorized version from the ‘80s! Like the Ark of the Covenant, the movie is so sacred that no one in their right mind would dare make a sequel or remake, despite the fact that a follow-up called “Brazzaville” was considered for a split second. So, go find someone to enjoy the heyday of Hollywood with you. Who knows, it might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. One thing is for certain: if you don’t watch “Casablanca” you’ll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and for the rest of your life.

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