Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008)

dir. Stephen Spielberg
writ. David Koepp, George Lucas and Jeff Nathanson (story)
feat. Harrison Ford, Cate Blanchett, Shia LaBeouf, Karen Allen

It's the Cold War and Indy got old. But if a bit slower than before, he's still tough enough to show up young, ballsy upstart Shia LaBeouf. Um, right. First off, no one actually thinks LaBeouf is the vaguest bit tough. Whiny? Piddling? Overrated? Sure, all of these things, but not tough. Granted, if you're going to set him up to imagine he's tough while the 60-something hero leaves him in his dust, then OK, fine. LaBeouf isn't the real problem here. The lack of a cohesive story and the inane set pieces cover that.

Don't get me wrong. It's a fun film. I enjoyed the experience of sitting through it, carried along by it's quick pace from one adventure bit to the next. However, I had to decide very early that I was going along with a film that permits our hero to fly hundreds of feet, possibly a mile, in a metal refrigerator before rolling out with only minor bruises. Color me old-fashioned but I still believe an action film can be made where the action, while unlikely and perhaps impossible in the real world, feels possible. Sure, a man can't really sustain being dragged under a truck holding on by only his whip, but maybe the right man, a strong heroic man, can pull it off. No one makes it through that fridge flight. And no one swings from vine to vine with his monkey friends better than Tarzan ever dreamed.

It's this surrendering to the ways of modern action filmmaking that most disappoints me with the film. When Spielberg pulled off Minority Report, dipping deep and ugly into the well of Dick, and churning out some unsettling imagery that I wouldn't have deemed the maker of E.T. capable of, I was refreshed. Now, with Indy, he seems to have abandoned clever plot development and ingenious set pieces for easy fun, cheap laughs and digital grossouts.

Thieves Like Us (1974)

dir. Robert Altman
writ. Robert Altman, Joan Tewkesbury, Calder Willingham, Edward Anderson (novel)
feat. Keith Carradine, Shelley Duvall, John Schuck, Bert Remsen

Here is your antidote to all the high octane, shoot-em-up heist films out there. Altman, in his mid-70s form, plays out the story of three thieves who bust out of prison in the mid-30s and go on a Mississippi bank robbing spree. They're not geniuses but they figure out what works and manage to keep the string going, hiding out and drinking too much between jobs. The plaintive way in which Altman follows the men - bored between heists, slowly burning through their money, hopeful to avoid hurting anyone, getting fired up as the day of the next robbery approaches - repaints the image of thieves, earning the title of the film. These are ordinary guys who happen to be thieves.

When Carradine, the youngest of the bunch, falls for Duvall as she tends to his wounds after a car crash, it is naturally disruptive, one of the boys now attached to a woman who wants a different life than the moll of a thief. Carradine attempts to keep an even keel and manage both lives, but as it goes, the law can't be far behind.

The Visitor (2007)

writ & dir. Thomas McCarthy
feat. Richard Jenkins, Haaz Sleiman, Danai Jekesai Gurira, Hiam Abbass

After finding The Station Agent to be a thoughtful indie film with a different set of offbeat characters that develop relationships in sincere, believable ways, I was excited to see the second film directed by McCarthy. Sure, the trailer smacked of an issue film and worse, the burden of the suffering of young immigrants on the back of the old white man, but I had hopes that the writer who pulled off Agent could repeat. Sadly, hopes are easily dashed. Richard Jenkins does an excellent job, convincing in both his inert way of life and in his reawakening, a beating heart pumping again as he learns to play the drum and watch young folks struggling to make it in New York City. Unfortunately, by making this his story, while the supporting characters endure the real suffering, cheapens the tale. Sleiman's character is barely a sketch, with only three expressions - giddy, high musician, confused prisoner, and angry prisoner. Gurira is worse, distrusting of all white men (or possibly all men) with no obvious mind of her own until Sleiman's mother arrives. I'd like to think McCarthy began this film with good intentions, possibly trying to show how immigration law can affect even those with the right of citizenship. However, the tale would be better told through the eyes of those actuall suffering. Using Jenkins as the center allows the film to chicken out, never showing the real horrors of the detention center, or ever truly feeling the edgy feeling of not being at home, ever at risk to be deported. Yes, life is rough for Jenkins. He loses his new friend. But honestly, how much is his life changed really. He can sink right back into his rut or find a new poor immigrant to sublet his apartment.

True Stories (1986)

dir. David Byrne
writ. David Byrne, Beth Henley, Stephen Tobolowsky
feat. David Byrne, John Goodman, Swoosie Kurtz, Spalding Gray, and many more

David Byrne's playful examination of small town Texas in the age of electronics and the mega-mall offers a new forum for Byrne to tell his offbeat stories, beyond the songs and the music videos. He sets up the fictional town of Virgil on the eve of its Sesquicentennial celebration, following the almost ordinary citizens through their routines. They all seem slightly odd at first, but one can't tell if this is simply a reaction to Byrne's deadpan probing.

As the film progresses, between repeated interactions with the various characters where we discover that the techie is also trying to communicate with aliens and Goodman is advertising for a wife, Byrne offers random philosophical tidbits about the movement of culture from the town square to the mall. In the local mall, he very briefly hits upon the notion that people are creating their own ideologies, buying products that suit their belief systems. It's a flash of a moment, quickly discarded as we head toward the wildly distracting fashion show, but it's quite a spark in a largely rambling film, striking the idealism of the free market system, that anyone can buy anything and live just the way he likes, unbound by restrictions. The moments passes, easily overlooked when surrounded by jokes and analysis of born to shop mall culture, but shows Byrne's notion of hope, sussing out the best in even an ugly scenario.