"Trance": B-. I doubt that during the rest of this year I will attend a movie more complicated than Trance. I hope I am not wrong, as the final reel is the epitome of storytelling whose wheels come off the wagon. The tale starts out promisingly enough, with a daring heist of the Goya masterpiece, The Flying Witches,during an art auction. It is an inside job, as one of the auction house's presenters, Simon (James McAvoy), is a key player in the plot. His assignment is to lift the painting from its easel during the pandemonium caused by his three bad buddies rolling smoke bombs along the floor of the crowded room. Everything goes according to plan until Simon, perhaps suffering a brain cramp, decides to zap the small gang's leader, Franck (Vincent Cassel), with a stun gun. Franck is momentarily incapacited, but recovers in time to deliver a smashing right cross to Simon's left temple. Those four seconds of action turn out to be a key catalyst in the movie.
All of the robbers except for the knocked-out Simon manage a successful getaway, only to discover when they get to their safe house that the contents of the large rectangular zipper bag they have carted away consist of an empty frame, where once resided the famed Flying Witches. Immediately they collectively accuse Simon of somehow hiding the painting during the few seconds of opportunity he had between the time he lifted it off the easel and the time he zapped Franck. By this time Simon has regained consciousness, but is still walking around in a daze. Franck and his cronies have no trouble locating Simon, who is not really trying to hide, and after administering a gruesome torture which would make water boarding seem an acceptable method of interrogation, they conclude that Simon is not lying when he says he can't remember where he put the painting. In order to elicit that precious information, they will need a hypnotist. Enter Dr. Elizabeth Lamb (Rosario Dawson).
Before Simon has his appointment with Elizabeth, Franck hides a wire inside Simon's jacket. The gang is afraid that Simon may reveal the whereabouts of the painting to Elizabeth without them finding out. But Elizabeth spots the cord protruding from Simon's coat, and it isn't long before she demands an equal piece of the pie from Franck and the boys in return for her assistance. There is no honor among thieves, including Elizabeth, but as the only woman and as the only hypnotist, she has the talent that the men do not possess to extract secret information. The ability to exert control of the mind and the male libido are her powerful tools.
The last half of the movie is a muddled mishmash of real time, hallucinogenics, dreams and flashbacks. Sometimes we see the same occurrences twice, and we wonder which version is the one we're suppose to go with. Sometimes we never find out; other times we can draw a fairly confident conclusion, an educated guess, if you will. An example of the latter case pertains to a woman who, while driving a red car, accidentally hits Simon as he is deliriously crossing a busy street within minutes of the art theft. Just as the blow delivered by Franck to Simon's head is an important moment, so is the collision with Simon ending up on her windshield.
I am a fan of Cassel, a French actor who impresses me as a a Frank Sinatra type, i.e., a skinny guy who is a lot tougher than you might initially believe. He comes off as someone you'd better not cross. His physique belies his fortitude. The character of Elizabeth requires the actress to deliver a mixture of professionalism in the doctor's office, shrewdness in the conferences with her accomplices, and allure in the boudoir. Dawson hits the trifecta.
The last movie I attended featuring this kind of "state of mind" trajectory was Inception in 2010, to which I gave a (pre-blog) rating of C. Of the thirty-one movies I attended that year, I had only Clash Of The Titans rated lower. I did enjoy Trance to a moderately greater extent, mostly because the real time action was exciting and the acting was top notch. Additionally, the core of the movie, viz., the machinations of a den of thieves trying to play each other, is a timeless theme.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Movie Review: "Safe Haven"
"Safe Haven": B+. It was a dark and stormy night. (I have always wanted to begin a post with those words.) Before the opening credits we see Katie (Julianne Hough) in the driving rain, narrowly escaping the clutches of Boston police detective Kevin Tierney (David Lyons) by ducking into a cross country bus headed for Atlanta. We are not sure why the cop is after her, but by the time he reviews the depot surveillance camera footage to figure out what bus she took, she is long gone. She could be anywhere between Beantown and Hotlanta.
Katie gets off when the bus stops for a short break in Southport, an idyllic fishing village on the North Carolina coast, and never gets back on. Just as Hough's character was in Rock Of Ages (reviewed here on June 25), she is instantly the hottest chick in town, a fact that doesn't go unnoticed by Alex (Josh Duhamel), the boyishly handsome widower who owns the town's general store, inexplicably called "Ivan's." Josh still hasn't adjusted to life without his wife, but he is so busy raising his two lovable kids and running his store that he has little time for self pity.
Before a couple of days go by, Katie has landed a job as a server at the popular diner on the dock, and has taken up residence in a fixer-upper cottage remotely tucked away in the woods outside of town. Her need for floor boards, paint, brushes and other assorted tools and accessories results in regular trips to Ivan's. Alex's little daughter, who was a baby when her mother died, adores Katie, and the feeling is mutual. Katie and Alex are obviously interested in each other, but they play it cool. Alex goes out of his way to help her order paint from a supplier, showing her samples and decorating magazines, and then finally placing the order. After she leaves the store, his Uncle Roger (Red West), who functions as a combination store helper and kindly agitator, asks him, "Since when do we sell paint?"
The uncle's counterpart is Jo (Cobie Smulders), a young neighbor who periodically pays visits to Katie in the ramshackle cabin. When Katie rejects a clumsy effort by Alex to give her a bicycle, Jo urges her to accept it, stating that such benevolence is the way people do things in the South. "He's giving you a bike, not a kidney" is the best line in the movie.
Things pick up when the Boston detective, Tierney, gets wind of Katie's whereabouts. Tierney is one of the creepiest film cops I can remember since Ray Liotta played Officer Pete Davis in the 1992 thriller, Unlawful Entry. He is like a dog on a bone, reminding viewers of The Fugitive's Lieutenant Gerard, making it his undying quest to track down his prey. Will he find Katie? Will Alex and Katie ever do more than flirt with each other? When the weather turns cold will Katie have anything else to wear besides those short shorts she's kept on throughout the warm season? We find out the answers to two of those questions before the film ends.
There are two big surprises in Safe Haven. The first occurs about midway through the movie when we find out the details of why Katie is on the run. The truth is cleverly and slowly revealed over the course of a couple of scenes, including flashbacks. The second surprise, at the very end of the story, is a real mind blower which blindsided me, as I had no inkling that the astonishing revelation was about to occur.
The big dramatic finish, which occurs about ten minutes before the story's end, is not merely unpersuasive -- it is preposterous. The occurrences happening before our eyes are played out with only a modicum of reality. This almost ruined the movie for me, were it not for that second surprise I referenced in the immediately preceding paragraph. It is almost as if the script writers knew they had a weak ending, but instead of rewriting it they sought redemption by making the final scene a "holy cow" experience.
Safe Haven is the eighth movie based on a Nicholas Sparks novel. Now I have seen three of them, 2004's The Notebook (rated a pre-blog B+ by me), and 2008's Nights In Rodanthe (C+) being the others. Bashing Nicholas Sparks apparently is de rigueur among the cognoscenti of cinema critics. He is charged with predictability and shallowness. Sparks doesn't need a fellow Domer to stick up for him, but here is my quick take on his product. If I were going to a movie based on one of his books and expected a Doctor Zhivago or a Romeo And Juliet, I might share the movie snobs' sentiments. But just like you can't order a MGD and hope it tastes like a Guinness, with a Sparks movie I am mostly looking for a two hour entertaining escape vehicle. There is no question that Safe Haven could have been better, but the film makers got most of it right, and save for that "big dramatic finish," it might have been deserving of a B+. Is getting to watch Julianne Hough in a lead role enough to keep it from slipping to a B? Is the Pope Catholic?
Katie gets off when the bus stops for a short break in Southport, an idyllic fishing village on the North Carolina coast, and never gets back on. Just as Hough's character was in Rock Of Ages (reviewed here on June 25), she is instantly the hottest chick in town, a fact that doesn't go unnoticed by Alex (Josh Duhamel), the boyishly handsome widower who owns the town's general store, inexplicably called "Ivan's." Josh still hasn't adjusted to life without his wife, but he is so busy raising his two lovable kids and running his store that he has little time for self pity.
Before a couple of days go by, Katie has landed a job as a server at the popular diner on the dock, and has taken up residence in a fixer-upper cottage remotely tucked away in the woods outside of town. Her need for floor boards, paint, brushes and other assorted tools and accessories results in regular trips to Ivan's. Alex's little daughter, who was a baby when her mother died, adores Katie, and the feeling is mutual. Katie and Alex are obviously interested in each other, but they play it cool. Alex goes out of his way to help her order paint from a supplier, showing her samples and decorating magazines, and then finally placing the order. After she leaves the store, his Uncle Roger (Red West), who functions as a combination store helper and kindly agitator, asks him, "Since when do we sell paint?"
The uncle's counterpart is Jo (Cobie Smulders), a young neighbor who periodically pays visits to Katie in the ramshackle cabin. When Katie rejects a clumsy effort by Alex to give her a bicycle, Jo urges her to accept it, stating that such benevolence is the way people do things in the South. "He's giving you a bike, not a kidney" is the best line in the movie.
Things pick up when the Boston detective, Tierney, gets wind of Katie's whereabouts. Tierney is one of the creepiest film cops I can remember since Ray Liotta played Officer Pete Davis in the 1992 thriller, Unlawful Entry. He is like a dog on a bone, reminding viewers of The Fugitive's Lieutenant Gerard, making it his undying quest to track down his prey. Will he find Katie? Will Alex and Katie ever do more than flirt with each other? When the weather turns cold will Katie have anything else to wear besides those short shorts she's kept on throughout the warm season? We find out the answers to two of those questions before the film ends.
There are two big surprises in Safe Haven. The first occurs about midway through the movie when we find out the details of why Katie is on the run. The truth is cleverly and slowly revealed over the course of a couple of scenes, including flashbacks. The second surprise, at the very end of the story, is a real mind blower which blindsided me, as I had no inkling that the astonishing revelation was about to occur.
The big dramatic finish, which occurs about ten minutes before the story's end, is not merely unpersuasive -- it is preposterous. The occurrences happening before our eyes are played out with only a modicum of reality. This almost ruined the movie for me, were it not for that second surprise I referenced in the immediately preceding paragraph. It is almost as if the script writers knew they had a weak ending, but instead of rewriting it they sought redemption by making the final scene a "holy cow" experience.
Safe Haven is the eighth movie based on a Nicholas Sparks novel. Now I have seen three of them, 2004's The Notebook (rated a pre-blog B+ by me), and 2008's Nights In Rodanthe (C+) being the others. Bashing Nicholas Sparks apparently is de rigueur among the cognoscenti of cinema critics. He is charged with predictability and shallowness. Sparks doesn't need a fellow Domer to stick up for him, but here is my quick take on his product. If I were going to a movie based on one of his books and expected a Doctor Zhivago or a Romeo And Juliet, I might share the movie snobs' sentiments. But just like you can't order a MGD and hope it tastes like a Guinness, with a Sparks movie I am mostly looking for a two hour entertaining escape vehicle. There is no question that Safe Haven could have been better, but the film makers got most of it right, and save for that "big dramatic finish," it might have been deserving of a B+. Is getting to watch Julianne Hough in a lead role enough to keep it from slipping to a B? Is the Pope Catholic?
Monday, April 22, 2013
Manufacturing Runs
The Twins have been playing now for three weeks, and to the surprise of many, they have a winning record (8-7) and are only a game out of first place. Before they surrender that lofty position, I think I'd better write a little something about my favorite -- and the best-- sport, baseball.
You have probably heard that the Houston Astros have switched from the National League Central (which used to have six teams) to the American League West (which used to have only four teams). As a result, Major League Baseball has six five-team divisions, and each league (AL and NL) has an odd number of teams, fifteen to be exact. One of the obvious upshots of having an odd number of teams in each league is that, on any given day, there is likely to be at least one interleague game. For example, tomorrow the Twins (American League) will host the Florida Marlins (National League). Before the Astros made the switcheroo, interleague games were only played during a couple of one-week periods in the middle of the season.
When teams play in National League parks, National League rules apply. Likewise for games in American League parks. There used to be more differences in the old days between the rules of each league (e.g., where the home plate umpire stood and even how he wore his chest protector) than there are today, but the biggest distinction remains the use of the designated hitter, which is not allowed in National League stadia. When a game is played under National League rules, the pitcher is scheduled to bat every ninth time through the lineup, just like the shortstop or the right fielder. Pitchers are notoriously abysmal hitters, many of them not even bothering to take the bat off their shoulders. This impacts strategy for the manager in several important ways, resulting in at least two distinct approaches for offense. One is to rely mostly on power hitters in the lineup smashing line drives and extra base hits to create big innings. The other approach is alternatively referred to as "small ball" or "manufacturing runs." The former strategy is more likely to be found in the American League, where a manager can use a designated hitter to create more offense. The latter strategy is more prevalent in the National League, where pitchers are usually an automatic out and are therefore often called upon to attempt to bunt runners to the next base. I say "attempt" to bunt, because most pitchers are so poor at hitting that successfully laying down a bunt is certainly not a given.
The American League strategy of relying on the long ball is rather self-explanatory. Let's say the leadoff batter of the inning reaches first base. In the AL style of play, none of the subsequent hitters would be asked to lay down a sacrifice bunt. Outs are deemed precious commodities, and there's no sense giving up one of your three allotted outs that inning merely for the sake of putting a runner at second with one out. Instead, think big, that is, hope that one of your next three hitters (following the leadoff hitter who is on first) will deliver an extra base hit. Better yet, maybe one of those three guys will get lucky and knock one over the wall. In the AL, managers like to talk about "putting up a crooked number," i.e., anything other than a "0" or a "1." Earl Weaver, who passed away earlier this year, was famous for this line of thinking. He managed the Baltimore Orioles for seventeen seasons, starting in 1968. "Pitching, defense and the three-run homer" was the catch phrase always associated with Weaver. Of course, when you have sluggers like Boog Powell and Frank Robinson in your lineup, you are predisposed to use that strategy. The same goes for Harvey's Wallbangers, the power packed Milwaukee Brewers team of 1982 managed by Harvey Kuehn. The middle of their batting order featured Stormin' Gorman Thomas, Ben Oglivie and Cecil Cooper, all of whom hit more than thirty home runs that year, leading the Brew Crew to the World Series.
What about the small ball approach favored more by National League teams? How do you "manufacture" runs? The three major components used in manufacturing runs are bunting, base stealing and the hit-and-run. I am going to leave bunting for another day, as there are at least four kinds of bunts to consider. The rest of today's dissertation will be on the other two components.
The Hit-And Run (H&R): This play occurs when a runner on first takes off for second, and the batter attempts to hit the ball through the hole vacated by the shortstop or the second baseman to take the throw from the catcher. Some smarty pants baseball announcers like to say that a hit-and-run is not the same as a run-and-hit. To that I say "Poppycock," although admittedly it would be more accurate to call the play a run-and-hit. But it's nearly impossible to buck tradition, so "hit-and-run" it is. There are two reasons to use the H&R. One is to give the baserunner a better chance of reaching third base on a single, rather than pulling up at second. By the time the outfielder fetches the ball, the base runner should have already rounded second. The other reason is to stay out of a double play. Even if the batter makes contact but hits the ball to an infielder (instead of getting a hit to the outfield), the throw will probably go to first because the base runner will already be too close to second by the time the infielder is able to make the throw.
There are certain ingredients which make a H&R a wise choice. First, the batter should be at least an above average contact hitter. You don't want to attempt a H&R if the guy who's up strikes out an average of once (or more) a game. If the batter whiffs on the pitch, the base runner is likely to get thrown out at second because if the baserunner were a speed merchant, the manager would have been more likely to call for a straight steal than a H&R. Secondly, the chances for a successful H&R are better if the batter is more of a spray hitter than a pull hitter. Why? Because the middle infielder assigned to cover second when the base runner leaves first base is usually the opposite side fielder, i.e., the second baseman if the batter is right handed, or the shortstop if the batter is a leftie. Remember, the batter is trying to punch the ball to the spot where the infielder was standing before he left to cover second base. A pull hitter will be unlikely to execute such a placement. Third, you want to try the H&R when you are predicting that the pitch will be a fast ball. Remember, making contact is a necessity, and fast balls (especially four seamers) are easier for most major league batters to hit than breaking balls. Scouting reports on each pitcher will tell a manager which pitch a pitcher likes to throw in certain situations, but a general rule is this: When a pitcher is behind in a count (say 2 & 0 or 3 & 1), he is most likely to bring the heater because it is easier to locate than a breaking ball.
The Straight Steal: A straight steal starts out like a H&R, but unlike the H&R, the batter is not necessarily attempting to hit the ball (although the batter still might swing for the purpose of making it more difficult for the catcher to execute the catch-and-throw). The objective of a straight steal is to get the runner into scoring position without sacrificing an out or relying on the batter to make contact with the pitch. One could write a mid-size book on base stealing, but in the interest of time and space I will come up well short of that.
Every team has at least one speed burner who is adept at stealing second. One does not always follow the other, however; just because a guy is fast does not make him a good base stealer. The best base stealers are usually "green lighted" by the manager, which means they are free to attempt a steal without having to wait for a signal from the third base coach. If the pitcher brings his "kick foot" (i.e., his front foot) behind his back leg, he is forced by the rules to deliver the pitch to the plate. He is not permitted to make a pick off attempt to first. If he does, it's a balk. Therefore, as soon as a green lighted runner sees that front foot go behind the pitcher's back leg, he is off and running.
Here are some things about base stealing to look for the next time you're watching a game. First, how big a lead off of first does the runner take? A daring base runner takes a big enough lead so that, if the pitcher throws over there, he has to dive back to the sack. On those diamonds with sliding pits, a good lead would be having the runner's right foot on the dirt and the left foot at least very close to the dirt.
Second, keep these two numbers in mind: 1.3 and 33. Managers frequently use a stop watch in the dugout to time how long it takes from the time the pitcher comes out of the set position in the stretch until the ball hits the catcher's mitt. If it is more than 1.3 seconds, the pitcher is vulnerable to base stealing, even if the catcher has a cannon for an arm. The two most important variables here are the speed of the pitch and the height of the pitcher's leg kick. Pitchers will often take a drag step instead of their regular kick in order to keep within that 1.3 second window. Speaking of the catcher, the number "33" refers to the percentage of attempted base stealers the catcher throws out. Yes, it's true that most stolen bases are the result of a flaw by the pitcher, but if the catcher fails to throw out at least 33% of the runners who are stealing, the situation is ripe for a SB. Each catcher's success ratio is part of the scouting report.
Third, pay attention to the count. Unlike a H&R situation as I described above, where the most desirable time is when the pitcher is likely to throw a fast ball, a base stealing attempt is more likely to occur if the pitcher is probably going to throw an off speed pitch. If the pitcher is ahead in the count (e.g., 0 & 1 or 1 & 2), anticipating a breaking ball is a smart educated guess. An off speed pitch takes slightly longer to get to the plate, plus it's tougher for the catcher to handle, especially in the case of a splitter.
Even when all the pieces are in place for a base stealing attempt (right handed pitcher with a slow delivery, pitcher ahead in the count, catcher with a poor arm, fast runner on first), let me suggest four times when a manager still might not want to have his runner steal. First, one of the unwritten rules of baseball is not to rub your opponent's nose in the dirt. If you have a seven or eight run lead after about the sixth inning, it is bad form to steal (or to bunt or hit-and-run). You shouldn't be manufacturing runs if you don't need runs. Although there are some managers who do not subscribe to that theory (the beloved Bobby Valentine?), most managers figure that the shoe will be on the other foot some day, and (to use another cliche) what goes around comes around. Bean balls have been thrown for lesser reasons. Second, remember that if the runner successfully steals second, that frees up the first baseman to play off the bag. He no longer has to keep the runner on for the simple reason that there is no longer a runner there. If the batter is a left handed pull hitter, his manager might prefer to keep the base runner on first, thereby creating a bigger hole between the second baseman and the first baseman who is holding the runner. Third, the manager has to appreciate the option which his counterpart (the opposing manager) has of intentionally walking the batter if first base is open. If a hitter like Joe Mauer (who is batting .375 as this is written) is up with a man on first base, his manager has to figure that the opposing manager will walk Mauer if the runner steals second. The smarter choice for the Twins might be to opt not to steal. Finally, if there are two outs you have to consider that the man who is currently at bat will be the lead off hitter the next inning if the base stealer gets thrown out. If the guy who is up is one of your better hitters, go ahead. But if it's your # 9 batter, do you really want to take a chance of having to lead off the next inning with him at bat?
The debate over which type of baseball is better, the big inning style of the American League, or manufacturing runs a la the National League, is ongoing. Big inning fans claim there is nothing more boring than seeing a pitcher making a fool of himself in the batter's box. National League fans are the purists and the traditionalists who want to keep the pitcher in the lineup, the way ball was originally meant to be played. Plus, there is a lot more strategy involved with small ball than merely hoping a slugger can knock one over the fence with runners on base. If you watch enough baseball you will see both strategies used over the course of a week by almost every team, regardless of its league. It is when interleague games are played that the visiting team is forced to play by the other guys' rules. Of the four major league sports, baseball is the only one which forces one opponent to adapt to a rules change when it hits the road for an interleague game, sometimes resulting in changing strategy on the fly. That is why baseball managers get paid the big bucks.
You have probably heard that the Houston Astros have switched from the National League Central (which used to have six teams) to the American League West (which used to have only four teams). As a result, Major League Baseball has six five-team divisions, and each league (AL and NL) has an odd number of teams, fifteen to be exact. One of the obvious upshots of having an odd number of teams in each league is that, on any given day, there is likely to be at least one interleague game. For example, tomorrow the Twins (American League) will host the Florida Marlins (National League). Before the Astros made the switcheroo, interleague games were only played during a couple of one-week periods in the middle of the season.
When teams play in National League parks, National League rules apply. Likewise for games in American League parks. There used to be more differences in the old days between the rules of each league (e.g., where the home plate umpire stood and even how he wore his chest protector) than there are today, but the biggest distinction remains the use of the designated hitter, which is not allowed in National League stadia. When a game is played under National League rules, the pitcher is scheduled to bat every ninth time through the lineup, just like the shortstop or the right fielder. Pitchers are notoriously abysmal hitters, many of them not even bothering to take the bat off their shoulders. This impacts strategy for the manager in several important ways, resulting in at least two distinct approaches for offense. One is to rely mostly on power hitters in the lineup smashing line drives and extra base hits to create big innings. The other approach is alternatively referred to as "small ball" or "manufacturing runs." The former strategy is more likely to be found in the American League, where a manager can use a designated hitter to create more offense. The latter strategy is more prevalent in the National League, where pitchers are usually an automatic out and are therefore often called upon to attempt to bunt runners to the next base. I say "attempt" to bunt, because most pitchers are so poor at hitting that successfully laying down a bunt is certainly not a given.
The American League strategy of relying on the long ball is rather self-explanatory. Let's say the leadoff batter of the inning reaches first base. In the AL style of play, none of the subsequent hitters would be asked to lay down a sacrifice bunt. Outs are deemed precious commodities, and there's no sense giving up one of your three allotted outs that inning merely for the sake of putting a runner at second with one out. Instead, think big, that is, hope that one of your next three hitters (following the leadoff hitter who is on first) will deliver an extra base hit. Better yet, maybe one of those three guys will get lucky and knock one over the wall. In the AL, managers like to talk about "putting up a crooked number," i.e., anything other than a "0" or a "1." Earl Weaver, who passed away earlier this year, was famous for this line of thinking. He managed the Baltimore Orioles for seventeen seasons, starting in 1968. "Pitching, defense and the three-run homer" was the catch phrase always associated with Weaver. Of course, when you have sluggers like Boog Powell and Frank Robinson in your lineup, you are predisposed to use that strategy. The same goes for Harvey's Wallbangers, the power packed Milwaukee Brewers team of 1982 managed by Harvey Kuehn. The middle of their batting order featured Stormin' Gorman Thomas, Ben Oglivie and Cecil Cooper, all of whom hit more than thirty home runs that year, leading the Brew Crew to the World Series.
What about the small ball approach favored more by National League teams? How do you "manufacture" runs? The three major components used in manufacturing runs are bunting, base stealing and the hit-and-run. I am going to leave bunting for another day, as there are at least four kinds of bunts to consider. The rest of today's dissertation will be on the other two components.
The Hit-And Run (H&R): This play occurs when a runner on first takes off for second, and the batter attempts to hit the ball through the hole vacated by the shortstop or the second baseman to take the throw from the catcher. Some smarty pants baseball announcers like to say that a hit-and-run is not the same as a run-and-hit. To that I say "Poppycock," although admittedly it would be more accurate to call the play a run-and-hit. But it's nearly impossible to buck tradition, so "hit-and-run" it is. There are two reasons to use the H&R. One is to give the baserunner a better chance of reaching third base on a single, rather than pulling up at second. By the time the outfielder fetches the ball, the base runner should have already rounded second. The other reason is to stay out of a double play. Even if the batter makes contact but hits the ball to an infielder (instead of getting a hit to the outfield), the throw will probably go to first because the base runner will already be too close to second by the time the infielder is able to make the throw.
There are certain ingredients which make a H&R a wise choice. First, the batter should be at least an above average contact hitter. You don't want to attempt a H&R if the guy who's up strikes out an average of once (or more) a game. If the batter whiffs on the pitch, the base runner is likely to get thrown out at second because if the baserunner were a speed merchant, the manager would have been more likely to call for a straight steal than a H&R. Secondly, the chances for a successful H&R are better if the batter is more of a spray hitter than a pull hitter. Why? Because the middle infielder assigned to cover second when the base runner leaves first base is usually the opposite side fielder, i.e., the second baseman if the batter is right handed, or the shortstop if the batter is a leftie. Remember, the batter is trying to punch the ball to the spot where the infielder was standing before he left to cover second base. A pull hitter will be unlikely to execute such a placement. Third, you want to try the H&R when you are predicting that the pitch will be a fast ball. Remember, making contact is a necessity, and fast balls (especially four seamers) are easier for most major league batters to hit than breaking balls. Scouting reports on each pitcher will tell a manager which pitch a pitcher likes to throw in certain situations, but a general rule is this: When a pitcher is behind in a count (say 2 & 0 or 3 & 1), he is most likely to bring the heater because it is easier to locate than a breaking ball.
The Straight Steal: A straight steal starts out like a H&R, but unlike the H&R, the batter is not necessarily attempting to hit the ball (although the batter still might swing for the purpose of making it more difficult for the catcher to execute the catch-and-throw). The objective of a straight steal is to get the runner into scoring position without sacrificing an out or relying on the batter to make contact with the pitch. One could write a mid-size book on base stealing, but in the interest of time and space I will come up well short of that.
Every team has at least one speed burner who is adept at stealing second. One does not always follow the other, however; just because a guy is fast does not make him a good base stealer. The best base stealers are usually "green lighted" by the manager, which means they are free to attempt a steal without having to wait for a signal from the third base coach. If the pitcher brings his "kick foot" (i.e., his front foot) behind his back leg, he is forced by the rules to deliver the pitch to the plate. He is not permitted to make a pick off attempt to first. If he does, it's a balk. Therefore, as soon as a green lighted runner sees that front foot go behind the pitcher's back leg, he is off and running.
Here are some things about base stealing to look for the next time you're watching a game. First, how big a lead off of first does the runner take? A daring base runner takes a big enough lead so that, if the pitcher throws over there, he has to dive back to the sack. On those diamonds with sliding pits, a good lead would be having the runner's right foot on the dirt and the left foot at least very close to the dirt.
Second, keep these two numbers in mind: 1.3 and 33. Managers frequently use a stop watch in the dugout to time how long it takes from the time the pitcher comes out of the set position in the stretch until the ball hits the catcher's mitt. If it is more than 1.3 seconds, the pitcher is vulnerable to base stealing, even if the catcher has a cannon for an arm. The two most important variables here are the speed of the pitch and the height of the pitcher's leg kick. Pitchers will often take a drag step instead of their regular kick in order to keep within that 1.3 second window. Speaking of the catcher, the number "33" refers to the percentage of attempted base stealers the catcher throws out. Yes, it's true that most stolen bases are the result of a flaw by the pitcher, but if the catcher fails to throw out at least 33% of the runners who are stealing, the situation is ripe for a SB. Each catcher's success ratio is part of the scouting report.
Third, pay attention to the count. Unlike a H&R situation as I described above, where the most desirable time is when the pitcher is likely to throw a fast ball, a base stealing attempt is more likely to occur if the pitcher is probably going to throw an off speed pitch. If the pitcher is ahead in the count (e.g., 0 & 1 or 1 & 2), anticipating a breaking ball is a smart educated guess. An off speed pitch takes slightly longer to get to the plate, plus it's tougher for the catcher to handle, especially in the case of a splitter.
Even when all the pieces are in place for a base stealing attempt (right handed pitcher with a slow delivery, pitcher ahead in the count, catcher with a poor arm, fast runner on first), let me suggest four times when a manager still might not want to have his runner steal. First, one of the unwritten rules of baseball is not to rub your opponent's nose in the dirt. If you have a seven or eight run lead after about the sixth inning, it is bad form to steal (or to bunt or hit-and-run). You shouldn't be manufacturing runs if you don't need runs. Although there are some managers who do not subscribe to that theory (the beloved Bobby Valentine?), most managers figure that the shoe will be on the other foot some day, and (to use another cliche) what goes around comes around. Bean balls have been thrown for lesser reasons. Second, remember that if the runner successfully steals second, that frees up the first baseman to play off the bag. He no longer has to keep the runner on for the simple reason that there is no longer a runner there. If the batter is a left handed pull hitter, his manager might prefer to keep the base runner on first, thereby creating a bigger hole between the second baseman and the first baseman who is holding the runner. Third, the manager has to appreciate the option which his counterpart (the opposing manager) has of intentionally walking the batter if first base is open. If a hitter like Joe Mauer (who is batting .375 as this is written) is up with a man on first base, his manager has to figure that the opposing manager will walk Mauer if the runner steals second. The smarter choice for the Twins might be to opt not to steal. Finally, if there are two outs you have to consider that the man who is currently at bat will be the lead off hitter the next inning if the base stealer gets thrown out. If the guy who is up is one of your better hitters, go ahead. But if it's your # 9 batter, do you really want to take a chance of having to lead off the next inning with him at bat?
The debate over which type of baseball is better, the big inning style of the American League, or manufacturing runs a la the National League, is ongoing. Big inning fans claim there is nothing more boring than seeing a pitcher making a fool of himself in the batter's box. National League fans are the purists and the traditionalists who want to keep the pitcher in the lineup, the way ball was originally meant to be played. Plus, there is a lot more strategy involved with small ball than merely hoping a slugger can knock one over the fence with runners on base. If you watch enough baseball you will see both strategies used over the course of a week by almost every team, regardless of its league. It is when interleague games are played that the visiting team is forced to play by the other guys' rules. Of the four major league sports, baseball is the only one which forces one opponent to adapt to a rules change when it hits the road for an interleague game, sometimes resulting in changing strategy on the fly. That is why baseball managers get paid the big bucks.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Movie Review: "The Place Beyond The Pines"
"The Place Beyond The Pines": A-. The Place Beyond The Pines is a high speed drama told in three distinct acts, all intertwined from beginning to end. Just as he did in 2011's Drive, Ryan Gosling plays his usual "cool as a cucumber" soft-spoken macho man. Here he is Luke Glanton, a multi-tatooed motorcycle stunt daredevil employed by a traveling circus with its assortment of seedy characters. Glanton fits right in. The nomadic troupe is on the outskirts of Schenectady, in upstate New York, for its annual gig. There he recognizes a familiar face, Roe (Eva Mendes), with whom he had a one night stand a year ago. Luke's world changes when Roe informs him that he is the father of the baby she is holding.
Even though Roe and her infant son, Jacob, live with another man, Luke abruptly quits the circus and takes a job with Robin (Ben Mendelsohn), who owns a local auto repair shop off a dirt road in the woods. Robin tells Luke he can't afford to pay him much, but Luke accepts the offer to get free lodging in Robin's trailer. At first we believe Robin, despite his disheveled appearance, will be good for Luke, as he offers this calming advice: "If you ride like lightening you'll crash like thunder." But after a short while Robin talks Luke into pulling off a bank heist. They will use Luke's bike and Robin's truck for the getaway. Luke needs the dough to be able to re-enter Roe and Jacob's lives. This financial plan is doomed to fail.
The second act focuses on co-leading man Bradley Cooper, who plays Schenectady cop Avery Cross. Cross is on routine patrol when he spots a fugitive careening down a residential street attempting to flee the scene of a crime. A white nail chase ends when the fugitive crashes his vehicle, runs into a house and holes up in a second floor bedroom. Cross, in hot pursuit, calls for backup but doesn't wait for his colleagues to arrive before entering the house with his gun drawn. What transpires in the next five minutes changes Avery's world, just as Luke's was changed in the first act. Heroism, death, politics, police corruption and reparation all come into play before this intense middle stage of the story is over.
The third act of this film, which takes place fifteen years after the close of the second, may not be as frenetic -- or even as successful -- as the first two, but it is nevertheless dramatic. We are re-introduced to the sons of Luke and Avery. Both are troubled teens attending the same Schenectady high school, and are unaware of any connection the two of them indirectly shared when they were infants. I wrote in the first paragraph that the film's three acts are intertwined. We, the viewers, are immediately aware of the boys' overlapping backgrounds, but the boys themselves are not.
The Place Beyond The Pines is being billed as a story about fatherhood and all that it entails. Both Luke and Avery,when afforded an opportunity to change their behaviors for the betterment of their sons, choose instead to continue doing what they've been doing. For Luke that means crime; for Avery it is political ambition. It is as if they can't help themselves or overcome their own DNA. They make decisions which many men in their positions would make. It is that realism and that humanism which rings so true in this film.
The movie is stocked with compelling secondary characters, including Mendes' turn as the hard luck mother, and Ray Liotta as a crooked cop. Both actors are totally absorbed in their respective roles and play key parts in the story.
Another strong point of the film is the sense of place that is Schenectady, a mid-size city of about 65,000 residents. I commend the decision of filmmakers to use a real, as opposed to a fictitious, city. Incorporating actual entities into a work of fiction obviously renders the story as more authentic. For example, in Admission (which I reviewed here on April 7), the school for which Tina Fey's character is recruiting is Princeton, not a trumped up name like "Faber College" of Animal House fame. Likewise, the 2010 crime thriller, The Town, refers to the Charlestown neighborhood of Boston, where the story is set. Schenectady is small enough to make it tough to hold secrets, yet large enough to have a corrupt police force. It is that city which gives meaning to the film's title, as the Mohawk word for "place beyond the pines" is "Schenectady." I just wonder how the real life Chief of Police of the SPD feels about his fictitious counterpart being portrayed as a dirty cop.
Even though Roe and her infant son, Jacob, live with another man, Luke abruptly quits the circus and takes a job with Robin (Ben Mendelsohn), who owns a local auto repair shop off a dirt road in the woods. Robin tells Luke he can't afford to pay him much, but Luke accepts the offer to get free lodging in Robin's trailer. At first we believe Robin, despite his disheveled appearance, will be good for Luke, as he offers this calming advice: "If you ride like lightening you'll crash like thunder." But after a short while Robin talks Luke into pulling off a bank heist. They will use Luke's bike and Robin's truck for the getaway. Luke needs the dough to be able to re-enter Roe and Jacob's lives. This financial plan is doomed to fail.
The second act focuses on co-leading man Bradley Cooper, who plays Schenectady cop Avery Cross. Cross is on routine patrol when he spots a fugitive careening down a residential street attempting to flee the scene of a crime. A white nail chase ends when the fugitive crashes his vehicle, runs into a house and holes up in a second floor bedroom. Cross, in hot pursuit, calls for backup but doesn't wait for his colleagues to arrive before entering the house with his gun drawn. What transpires in the next five minutes changes Avery's world, just as Luke's was changed in the first act. Heroism, death, politics, police corruption and reparation all come into play before this intense middle stage of the story is over.
The third act of this film, which takes place fifteen years after the close of the second, may not be as frenetic -- or even as successful -- as the first two, but it is nevertheless dramatic. We are re-introduced to the sons of Luke and Avery. Both are troubled teens attending the same Schenectady high school, and are unaware of any connection the two of them indirectly shared when they were infants. I wrote in the first paragraph that the film's three acts are intertwined. We, the viewers, are immediately aware of the boys' overlapping backgrounds, but the boys themselves are not.
The Place Beyond The Pines is being billed as a story about fatherhood and all that it entails. Both Luke and Avery,when afforded an opportunity to change their behaviors for the betterment of their sons, choose instead to continue doing what they've been doing. For Luke that means crime; for Avery it is political ambition. It is as if they can't help themselves or overcome their own DNA. They make decisions which many men in their positions would make. It is that realism and that humanism which rings so true in this film.
The movie is stocked with compelling secondary characters, including Mendes' turn as the hard luck mother, and Ray Liotta as a crooked cop. Both actors are totally absorbed in their respective roles and play key parts in the story.
Another strong point of the film is the sense of place that is Schenectady, a mid-size city of about 65,000 residents. I commend the decision of filmmakers to use a real, as opposed to a fictitious, city. Incorporating actual entities into a work of fiction obviously renders the story as more authentic. For example, in Admission (which I reviewed here on April 7), the school for which Tina Fey's character is recruiting is Princeton, not a trumped up name like "Faber College" of Animal House fame. Likewise, the 2010 crime thriller, The Town, refers to the Charlestown neighborhood of Boston, where the story is set. Schenectady is small enough to make it tough to hold secrets, yet large enough to have a corrupt police force. It is that city which gives meaning to the film's title, as the Mohawk word for "place beyond the pines" is "Schenectady." I just wonder how the real life Chief of Police of the SPD feels about his fictitious counterpart being portrayed as a dirty cop.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Movie Review: "Ginger & Rosa"
"Ginger & Rosa": B. The setting is a grim English city, 1962. The Brits' recollections of World War II are vivid as the Cold War is in full throttle. Ginger (Elle Fanning) and Rosa (Alice Englert) are seventeen years old and have been best friends since their teenage mothers gave birth to them in the same hospital days after the atomic bombing of Hiroshima. The thought of nuclear armageddon is never far from the girls' minds. The Soviet Union is not that distant from their homeland. When the Cuban Missile Crisis rears its head and JFK warns the Russians via a worldwide radio broadcast to stay out of the Western Hemisphere, Ginger fears the worst. Rosa is also worried, but isn't as obsessed with it as her friend.
Neither of the girls lives in a standard "Ozzie and Harriet" type of family. Rosa's father is dead, and Ginger's parents' marriage is an unhappy one, caused by the dad, Roland (Alessandro Nivola), openly dating younger women. Both of the girls are sassy to their moms, even when family friends are present. In spite of the fact that Natalie, Ginger's mom (Christina Hendricks), is very deserving of Ginger's sympathy and appreciation, not to mention respect, Ginger identifies more with her dad. He is a pacifist who spent time in jail for being a conscientious objector, and his daughter is an activist. Ginger and Rosa attend meetings and march in parades to protest nuclear proliferation. Ginger, even though she is a smart girl, is not as savvy as her soulmate. When Roland drives by in his car with a cute female beside him, Rosa easily puts two and two together, figuring Roland for a tomcat, while Ginger pretends she did not see them. When her parents separate, it is Roland with whom Ginger wants to live. The simultaneous surprised and saddened look on Natalie's face when Ginger breaks the news to her is a memorable piece of acting by Hendricks. In the same short scene, Ginger yells at Natalie, "I don't want to turn out like you." The irony is that one of the main reasons for Natalie's situation is that she gave everything, including postponing a nascent career as a painter, to being a wife and mother.
Writer and director Sally Potter spends a hefty portion of the film establishing the closeness of the two title characters. They live in the same neighborhood and attend the same school. They pair up to hitch rides to the coast for solitude on the desolate beaches, they experiment with cigarettes, flirt with boys, and periodically reveal their innermost thoughts to each other in what appears to be an abandoned industrial lot. At times they even wear identical clothing, something one would ordinarily associate with much younger girls. You wonder if one of the pair is being set up for a fall. Isn't conflict a necessary ingredient of drama? Rosa appears to be in a hurry to grow up into womanhood. Ginger aspires to become a poet, but is in less of a hurry until circumstances dictate that she deal with trouble that a teenager shouldn't have to face.
As stated in a previous post, it is my policy to refrain from getting into too much detail for events which transpire in the last half or third of a movie, for fear of spoiling the outcome. The running time of Ginger & Rosa from the movie's start to the beginning of the closing credits is a mere eighty-four minutes. In a film of such short duration, the reviewing challenge in that regard is a tough one. So, I will trim my comments to the nub. When Ginger moves in with her father, she encounters a whole new set of problems which make her tiffs with Natalie pale by comparison. It is in these later scenes when the brilliance of the young actress Fanning is on display. She is hurt, betrayed, confused and overwhelmed. We know this not so much by the dialogue but from what our eyes are telling us.
The toughest nut to crack in all of this is Roland. When we first meet him we figure there is a good chance he is a cad. But it's the degree to which he is a cad that is too over-the-top for my tastes. Would a handsome, intelligent, relatively young guy really do what Roland does in the late stages of the story? If only I were able to be convinced that art reflects reality, the picture would have been more successful on my scorecard. Still, hats off to all the actors, especially Fanning and Hendricks, and to Potter for a worthy study of friendship and teenage life in England right before the dawning of the Beatles.
Neither of the girls lives in a standard "Ozzie and Harriet" type of family. Rosa's father is dead, and Ginger's parents' marriage is an unhappy one, caused by the dad, Roland (Alessandro Nivola), openly dating younger women. Both of the girls are sassy to their moms, even when family friends are present. In spite of the fact that Natalie, Ginger's mom (Christina Hendricks), is very deserving of Ginger's sympathy and appreciation, not to mention respect, Ginger identifies more with her dad. He is a pacifist who spent time in jail for being a conscientious objector, and his daughter is an activist. Ginger and Rosa attend meetings and march in parades to protest nuclear proliferation. Ginger, even though she is a smart girl, is not as savvy as her soulmate. When Roland drives by in his car with a cute female beside him, Rosa easily puts two and two together, figuring Roland for a tomcat, while Ginger pretends she did not see them. When her parents separate, it is Roland with whom Ginger wants to live. The simultaneous surprised and saddened look on Natalie's face when Ginger breaks the news to her is a memorable piece of acting by Hendricks. In the same short scene, Ginger yells at Natalie, "I don't want to turn out like you." The irony is that one of the main reasons for Natalie's situation is that she gave everything, including postponing a nascent career as a painter, to being a wife and mother.
Writer and director Sally Potter spends a hefty portion of the film establishing the closeness of the two title characters. They live in the same neighborhood and attend the same school. They pair up to hitch rides to the coast for solitude on the desolate beaches, they experiment with cigarettes, flirt with boys, and periodically reveal their innermost thoughts to each other in what appears to be an abandoned industrial lot. At times they even wear identical clothing, something one would ordinarily associate with much younger girls. You wonder if one of the pair is being set up for a fall. Isn't conflict a necessary ingredient of drama? Rosa appears to be in a hurry to grow up into womanhood. Ginger aspires to become a poet, but is in less of a hurry until circumstances dictate that she deal with trouble that a teenager shouldn't have to face.
As stated in a previous post, it is my policy to refrain from getting into too much detail for events which transpire in the last half or third of a movie, for fear of spoiling the outcome. The running time of Ginger & Rosa from the movie's start to the beginning of the closing credits is a mere eighty-four minutes. In a film of such short duration, the reviewing challenge in that regard is a tough one. So, I will trim my comments to the nub. When Ginger moves in with her father, she encounters a whole new set of problems which make her tiffs with Natalie pale by comparison. It is in these later scenes when the brilliance of the young actress Fanning is on display. She is hurt, betrayed, confused and overwhelmed. We know this not so much by the dialogue but from what our eyes are telling us.
The toughest nut to crack in all of this is Roland. When we first meet him we figure there is a good chance he is a cad. But it's the degree to which he is a cad that is too over-the-top for my tastes. Would a handsome, intelligent, relatively young guy really do what Roland does in the late stages of the story? If only I were able to be convinced that art reflects reality, the picture would have been more successful on my scorecard. Still, hats off to all the actors, especially Fanning and Hendricks, and to Potter for a worthy study of friendship and teenage life in England right before the dawning of the Beatles.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Movie Review: "Admission"
"Admission": C. I was presented with a rare opportunity to see a movie about private school admissions with a person who was the Director Of Admissions at a private school for thirty-three years. Her name is Momma Cuandito. Unfortunately the new movie, Admission, starring comedienne Tina Fey as Princeton University admissions assistant Portia Nathan, is deserving of a rejection letter. Nevertheless, if at some time in the future Momma Cuan wants to attend a movie about a lawyer who makes his living writing commercial loan documentation, I will be happy to accompany her. I'm sure a flick with such a theme would be a critically acclaimed tale and would render the audience breathless with wonder and amazement.
Princeton's Dean Of Admissions, an elderly gent played by excellent actor Wallace Shawn, has announced his retirement, and it is up to him to choose his successor from a pool of just two candidates who are his assistants, either Portia or her perfectionist peer, Corinne (Gloria Reuben). Much will depend on how each woman performs her mandate to screen this year's thousands of applications for the highly selective Ivy League school, and then make recommendations to the admissions committee for acceptance or denial. Part of each woman's duty is to familiarize herself with Princeton's "feeder schools," i.e., high schools and prep schools who have a history of sending students to Princeton. In connection with those duties, Portia finds herself slogging through the barnyard of an experimental school, New Quest, located in the New Hampshire woods. New Quest is run by John Pressman, who is played by another comedic actor, Paul Rudd. The casting of Fey and Rudd would lead to the reasonable assumption by the moviegoer that Admission will be a comedy. Such is not the case. It is not funny enough to be comedy, and not riveting or real enough to be good drama. True, there are moments when laughter is warranted, but you could count them on the fingers of one hand.
The students at New Quest are not your typical teenagers. They are quiet, humorless and at times arrogant and adversarial. John seems to advocate that manner of behavior. Portia's standard recruitment speech, in which she tells the young audience about Princeton, goes over like a lead zeppelin, but before she leaves campus John makes a point of introducing her to one of his seniors, Jeremiah (Nat Wolff), whose dream is to attend Princeton. We find out later that John has an ulterior motive, unrelated to Princeton, for getting Portia and Jeremiah together. This is a key element in the story, and yet as the relationships of Portia and Jeremiah and of Portia and John unfold, the level of absurdity and unbelievability grows exponentially with each scene.
Almost all of the situations presented on film stretch credulity, the characters do not act like real people, and the dialogue between them is fake, which is another way of saying "poorly written." A case in point would be this: We are asked to believe that a person in Portia's position would not only risk her chances of getting the promotion to Dean of Admissions, but would also put her entire career in jeopardy, by committing fraud, all for the purpose of accomplishing an objective which was sure to fail anyway. Additionally, we are supposed to buy into the potential love connection between Portia and John, even though no spark is lit nor is chemistry developed between the two leads. Compare this to, say, the relationship between Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence's characters in Silver Linings Playbook. In that movie, unlike Admission, the lead guy and gal have a good vibe going between them even when she is scolding him and he is exasperated with her.
Lily Tomlin turns in an over-the-top stint as Portia's independent mother, Susannah. Most of the film's good lines are reserved for her, and the infrequent scenes in which she appears help break the tedium of the central story arc.
Momma Cuandito commented that the scenes depicting the admission committee deliberations over the worthiness of the student applicants were relatively accurate. Each committee member was expected to advocate for the prospects whom she believed would succeed at the private school. But that committee member had only one of several votes, and the majority ruled. I applaud director Paul Weitz for getting that facet of the plot right, but unless your reason for attending the movie is to get a feel for how selective colleges fill their freshmen classes from a large pool of (mostly) highly qualified applicants, I hereby suggest that your entertainment dollar could be better spent elsewhere. After two hours, I was more than ready to exit Admission.
Princeton's Dean Of Admissions, an elderly gent played by excellent actor Wallace Shawn, has announced his retirement, and it is up to him to choose his successor from a pool of just two candidates who are his assistants, either Portia or her perfectionist peer, Corinne (Gloria Reuben). Much will depend on how each woman performs her mandate to screen this year's thousands of applications for the highly selective Ivy League school, and then make recommendations to the admissions committee for acceptance or denial. Part of each woman's duty is to familiarize herself with Princeton's "feeder schools," i.e., high schools and prep schools who have a history of sending students to Princeton. In connection with those duties, Portia finds herself slogging through the barnyard of an experimental school, New Quest, located in the New Hampshire woods. New Quest is run by John Pressman, who is played by another comedic actor, Paul Rudd. The casting of Fey and Rudd would lead to the reasonable assumption by the moviegoer that Admission will be a comedy. Such is not the case. It is not funny enough to be comedy, and not riveting or real enough to be good drama. True, there are moments when laughter is warranted, but you could count them on the fingers of one hand.
The students at New Quest are not your typical teenagers. They are quiet, humorless and at times arrogant and adversarial. John seems to advocate that manner of behavior. Portia's standard recruitment speech, in which she tells the young audience about Princeton, goes over like a lead zeppelin, but before she leaves campus John makes a point of introducing her to one of his seniors, Jeremiah (Nat Wolff), whose dream is to attend Princeton. We find out later that John has an ulterior motive, unrelated to Princeton, for getting Portia and Jeremiah together. This is a key element in the story, and yet as the relationships of Portia and Jeremiah and of Portia and John unfold, the level of absurdity and unbelievability grows exponentially with each scene.
Almost all of the situations presented on film stretch credulity, the characters do not act like real people, and the dialogue between them is fake, which is another way of saying "poorly written." A case in point would be this: We are asked to believe that a person in Portia's position would not only risk her chances of getting the promotion to Dean of Admissions, but would also put her entire career in jeopardy, by committing fraud, all for the purpose of accomplishing an objective which was sure to fail anyway. Additionally, we are supposed to buy into the potential love connection between Portia and John, even though no spark is lit nor is chemistry developed between the two leads. Compare this to, say, the relationship between Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence's characters in Silver Linings Playbook. In that movie, unlike Admission, the lead guy and gal have a good vibe going between them even when she is scolding him and he is exasperated with her.
Lily Tomlin turns in an over-the-top stint as Portia's independent mother, Susannah. Most of the film's good lines are reserved for her, and the infrequent scenes in which she appears help break the tedium of the central story arc.
Momma Cuandito commented that the scenes depicting the admission committee deliberations over the worthiness of the student applicants were relatively accurate. Each committee member was expected to advocate for the prospects whom she believed would succeed at the private school. But that committee member had only one of several votes, and the majority ruled. I applaud director Paul Weitz for getting that facet of the plot right, but unless your reason for attending the movie is to get a feel for how selective colleges fill their freshmen classes from a large pool of (mostly) highly qualified applicants, I hereby suggest that your entertainment dollar could be better spent elsewhere. After two hours, I was more than ready to exit Admission.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Quarterly Cinema Scan - Volume XI
I've always thought that one of the best plots for a movie was the attempt to commit the perfect crime. Usually those movies are told more from the perspective of the criminal than the detectives. A couple of movies fitting that description are 1960's Ocean's Eleven and 1954's Dial M For Murder. I saw Ocean's Eleven when it first came out, and at the time I considered it exceptionally good. When I viewed it again two years ago it seemed the movie did not age as well as others of its vintage. Still, I gave it a B+. The movie features the infamous Brat Pack, led by Frank Sinatra, trying to rob five Las Vegas casinos simultaneously on New Year's Eve. Dial M For Murder appears on TCM once or twice a year. My initial viewing of it was also two years ago and I had to give it an A, meaning I consider it one of the forty (or so) best films I have ever seen.
All of the foregoing serves as an intro to my recommendation of the French movie from 1954, Rififi. It, too, involves an attempt to commit the perfect crime, this time by a small band of jewel thieves led by a mastermind who has recently served out a long prison sentence. Other than being a riveting tale, the movie is mostly famous for a twenty-five minute sequence (showing the execution of the heist) in which there is absolutely no dialogue or music. That piece of filmmaking by one of the all-time great directors, Jules Dassin, is one of the most famous accomplishments in cinematic history.
Without further ado, these are the movies I watched at the Quentin Estates during the first quarter of 2013.
1. Beasts Of The Southern Wild (2012 drama; Quvenzhane Wallis is a motherless six year old who lives in a Louisiana Gulf Coast shanty with her father, a guy who means well but has huge health problems mostly of his own doing) B+
2. Cool Hand Luke (1967 drama; Paul Newman serves a two year sentence on a chain gang, taking life as it comes and earning the respect of fellow prisoners, including George Kennedy) B
3. Easy Rider (1969 drama; Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper bike their way across the southland, from LA to NOLA, encountering hookers and blow along the way) C
4. Notorious (1946 drama; Ingrid Bergman loves FBI agent Cary Grant, but marries suspected Nazi sympathizer Claude Rains in Rio in an effort to find out what the Germans are plotting in Brazil) B-
5. On The Waterfront (1954 drama; Ex-pro fighter Marlon Brando is a longshoreman who falls for Eve Marie Saint, the sister of a union member who ratted out on union boss Lee J. Cobb) A
6. Rififi (1955 drama; After being released from prison, Jean Servais leads a gang of four jewel thieves in an attempt to commit the perfect crime) A-
7. She Wore A Yellow Ribbon (1949 western; Army cavalry captain John Wayne gets stuck escorting his commander's daughter, Joanne Dru, across post-Civil War Indian country, while two of his subordinate officers make goo goo eyes at her) B
8. A Streetcar Named Desire (1951 drama; When truth-challenged Vivien Leigh moves in with her sister Kim Hunter and brother-in-law Marlon Brando, constant turmoil results in their New Orleans duplex) A-
9. The Way (2010 drama; Martin Sheen travels to the Pyranees to claim the body of his son, then decides to make the 480 mile pilgrimage along the El Camino de Santiago on which his son perished) A-
All of the foregoing serves as an intro to my recommendation of the French movie from 1954, Rififi. It, too, involves an attempt to commit the perfect crime, this time by a small band of jewel thieves led by a mastermind who has recently served out a long prison sentence. Other than being a riveting tale, the movie is mostly famous for a twenty-five minute sequence (showing the execution of the heist) in which there is absolutely no dialogue or music. That piece of filmmaking by one of the all-time great directors, Jules Dassin, is one of the most famous accomplishments in cinematic history.
Without further ado, these are the movies I watched at the Quentin Estates during the first quarter of 2013.
1. Beasts Of The Southern Wild (2012 drama; Quvenzhane Wallis is a motherless six year old who lives in a Louisiana Gulf Coast shanty with her father, a guy who means well but has huge health problems mostly of his own doing) B+
2. Cool Hand Luke (1967 drama; Paul Newman serves a two year sentence on a chain gang, taking life as it comes and earning the respect of fellow prisoners, including George Kennedy) B
3. Easy Rider (1969 drama; Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper bike their way across the southland, from LA to NOLA, encountering hookers and blow along the way) C
4. Notorious (1946 drama; Ingrid Bergman loves FBI agent Cary Grant, but marries suspected Nazi sympathizer Claude Rains in Rio in an effort to find out what the Germans are plotting in Brazil) B-
5. On The Waterfront (1954 drama; Ex-pro fighter Marlon Brando is a longshoreman who falls for Eve Marie Saint, the sister of a union member who ratted out on union boss Lee J. Cobb) A
6. Rififi (1955 drama; After being released from prison, Jean Servais leads a gang of four jewel thieves in an attempt to commit the perfect crime) A-
7. She Wore A Yellow Ribbon (1949 western; Army cavalry captain John Wayne gets stuck escorting his commander's daughter, Joanne Dru, across post-Civil War Indian country, while two of his subordinate officers make goo goo eyes at her) B
8. A Streetcar Named Desire (1951 drama; When truth-challenged Vivien Leigh moves in with her sister Kim Hunter and brother-in-law Marlon Brando, constant turmoil results in their New Orleans duplex) A-
9. The Way (2010 drama; Martin Sheen travels to the Pyranees to claim the body of his son, then decides to make the 480 mile pilgrimage along the El Camino de Santiago on which his son perished) A-
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