Couple o' Book Reviews

There are a lot of books that start out with a strong premise, but fail to deliver on what should be an inventive story. Count How I Became A Famous Novelist by Steve Hely in that category.

The book centers on Pete Tarslaw, an office drone who decides to write “the best sellingest best seller of all time.” His motives are mainly based on a desire to show up at his ex-girlfriend’s wedding as something more than just a seat at the singles table, and a belief that he’s discovered the perfect con: writing novels.

Now, this could have been a funny story, but it comes off as almost insulting. Pete’s cynical views on the publishing world (while probably correct) are supposed to be witty, but instead come off as too glib to be satire. This is parody and not particularly brilliant at that. I’ll give Hely points for doing pretty decent caricatures of famous novelists, but none of makes any lasting impression.

The main problem is the characters. Hely never tells the reader why Pete is so hung-up on his ex-girlfriend. There’s no hint as to what they were like together, and if they had something special, or if she was just his last real girlfriend. Pete’s character in general is pretty unlikable, and even when he’s supposed to become sympathetic, he just sounds whiny.

The best part of the book is the fake New York Times bestseller list he creates on page 43.

Hely name-checks plenty of real authors in his book, like Stephen King, Cormac McCarthy and James Joyce – enough to know that he has real respect for artists who really can create something meaningful. At the novel’s end, as Pete describes a book that actually matters, he says, “I wish I’d written something that good."

Me too.

Ryan Boudinot’s Misconception is a “coming of age” story that never grows up to equal books that have done way better before – see J.D. Salinger’s Franny and Zooey. The story has basically all been done before, and the characters are too flat to garner any real attention from the reader.

The book is about Cedar Rivers and Kat Daniels, two adults who shared a turbulent high school summer together, and are reconnecting twenty years later, because Kat is writing a book about it, and needs Cedar’s promise that he won’t sue.

The rest of the story is told in flashbacks – with a return to the present here and there – about their budding romance and the totally messed up summer that totally ruins everything. Like I said, the plot is all too familiar - without giving everything away, see Juno for a far better take on one of the novel’s main subjects.

The thing that kills the story are the characters, who despite going through some pretty horrific stuff, don’t seem affected (in the past, or present) at all. Parents get divorced, children run away, there’s child abuse and pretty much everything else you would expect from a Dateline special, but none of it appears to change the characters in anyway. “Cardboard cutouts” is the phrase that comes to mind.

This is a shame, because there were several parts of the novel that had me chuckling out loud, especially in the beginning, but it all fizzles out to grey by the book’s end.

There’s too little here to make the reader really care about anything that’s going on.

Sadly, the novel’s title says it all.

"We're gonna be doing one thing and one thing only... killing Nazis."

“Once upon a time in Nazi occupied France...”

So begins Quentin Tarantino’s latest opus, Inglourious Basterds. The film is a shining example of what continues to make Tarantino one of today’s most compelling directors: his near perfect ear for dialogue, the nuances of his characters and an ability to build tension that would make Hitchcock proud. Oh yeah, and a smattering of violence just to point out how obsessed our culture is with it.

As has always been the case, Tarantino is a director drunk with films and the history of cinema. Perhaps no other working director is as aware of the power of film to change history (which he takes full advantage of in Basterds), and history’s effects on film. Watch as he name checks Charlie Chaplin and some of the greats of German cinema in the same scene, or the way that the bulk of the kick-ass soundtrack is Ennio Morricone music. Tarantino is some kind of wonder DJ of a director, blending everything together into a perfect piece of celluloid.

Besides, there’s a rare joy that comes from hearing Tarantino’s dialogue in no less than four languages: French, English, Italian and German.

Basterds – which is broken up into five chapters – takes place over four years in Nazi occupied France. The title refers to a group of Jewish-Americans lead by Lt. Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt), a man who has some Apache blood flowing through his veins, and uses his ancestors' example as a way to disrupt and dishearten the German people. From all the men in his group he asks for one hundred Nazi scalps, each. “And I want my scalps,” he growls in a gritty Tennessee accent.

Playing against him – although the characters don’t meet until the climax of the film – is Col. Hans Landa (Christoph Waltz), better known as “The Jew Hunter.” Waltz is the Nazi’s head man when it comes to finding people, and a load of the film's tension comes when he encounters Shosanna Dreyfus (Melanie Laurent), a French Jew whose family had Waltz had killed. Dreyfus runs a cinema in Paris, and when a smitten Nazi hero brings a bunch of the Nazi higher-ups – including the Furher himself – to her theatre for a movie premiere, her plan for revenge and the Basterds all converge.

Viewers will have to throw out what they know from high school history for the ending, but that’s okay. What’s going on is too entertaining – and more than just a little cathartic – to suspend disbelief. Tarantino choreographs the final gun-fight like a spaghetti-western on steroids, and it’s a beauty.

All the actors are in top form, but three deserve special mention. Pitt is comic gold, bringing a hilarious mix of dry wit, violence and Americanism to Raine. Watching him not at all hiding his thick southern accent as he speaks Italian will have your sides splitting.

Laurent is a wonder as Shosanna. The sheer fortitude she brings to her character is amazing, all the more so when she loses it for a moment after meeting Landa three years after her family’s murder. Her final speech – fittingly, it’s a small movie – is as a prime example of vengeance personified.

The real winner, however, is Waltz. He imbues Landa with a perverse charm and ability to disarm someone verbally without missing a beat in any language. Waltz is so good you almost find yourself rooting for him, which considering what he stands for, is saying something indeed.

At the film’s end, as Lt. Raine looks at a bit of his handiwork, he comments, “You know what? I think this might be my masterpiece.” Go see Inglourious Basterds, and you’ll feel the same way about Tarantino. There’s nothing inglourious about it.

"Welcome to A World Where Anything Is Possible"

For anybody who is concerned that Pixar is the only studio producing animated films that touch on anything other than cheap gags, Japanese master Hayao Miyazaki has brought another gem to the screen. Ponyo will pop your eyes with visual wonders, while cutting through the noise to touch you on a human level.

Miyazaki, the genius responsible for such treasures as Princess Mononoke and Spirited Away, has always been a fan of pictures that feature a strong female protagonist (not unlike underrated TV man, Joss Whedon). So, in remaking what is already considered a classic, The Little Mermaid, Miyazaki adds more humour and a more defiant female lead. I’ll be crucified for this by some, but I’ll take his version over the Disney’s original any day.

In the movie, Ponyo (Noah Cyrus) is the daughter of an undersea wizard who is attempting to keep the ocean in balance with an acceleratingly destructive human world (another common Miyazaki theme). Before any images get conjured up, let me stop you right here: Ponyo isn’t any kind of luscious mermaid – instead, she’s a goldfish with a human-like face. When she is rescued on the seashore by a little boy named Sosuke (Frankie Jonas), they fall head over heels for each other. It’s the kind of sweet, child love that doesn’t really get portrayed much in movies anymore.

Just like in The Little Mermaid, Ponyo defies her father and uses magic to turn into a real girl, but is their love real? That’s the question that gets answered as the story unfolds.

As any Miyazaki fan knows, his plots are never that simple. There are subtexts galore here: ageism, environmentalism and strained family relations. Ponyo isn’t quite as geared for the older audiences as Spirited Away and Howl’s Moving Castle were, but it truly is a film that both old and young will be dazzled by.

Give Disney credit for doing a fantastic job dubbing the film, so it doesn’t distract from the images, and still gives depth to the characters. Actors Tina Fey, Matt Damon, Cate Blanchett and Liam Neeson all give strong performances without showboating.

Naturally, the real joy of Ponyo is the visuals. Miyazaki stands out in a crowd that is coming to rely so heavily on computer-animated work, and leans far more towards more “traditional” animation. But don’t let that fool you – there’s nothing old-school about the undersea world he creates, or the time-capsule worthy image of Ponyo running across living waves during a storm.

When the Oscars roll around, its up in the air between Up and Ponyo for Best Animated Picture, and I don’t know where I stand as of yet. All I know is that Ponyo is the perfect, shining way to close out the summer season.

As Ponyo becomes a real girl, she revels in the wonders all around here, never missing a thing that delights her. Go see Ponyo and you’ll know how she feels.

"I can't stay." "I know."

The Time Traveler’s Wife snuck up on me. The film - based on Audrey Niffenegger’s novel – takes its time grabbing you, and as I’ve read the book already, I knew how the film would end. So does the audience. So, it was quite to my surprise that, as the film neared its climax, I had a pit in my stomach. I knew what was happening it was affecting me on an emotional level. I bought it all: hook, line and sinker.

Colour me a hopeless romantic.

To be fair, The Time Traveler’s Wife could pretty fairly be labeled a “chick flick,” but that’s not a term I’m sure I really believe in. We’ll ignore the fact that this – like most “chick flicks” – was written and directed by men, and the fact that Brad Pitt (yes, that Brad Pitt) was an executive producer. Just because a film is a drama about love – something that both sexes go through – doesn’t mean that it’s something that should only appeal to women. For God’s sake, Casablanca may be the most famous “chick flick” of all, but if Bogie can pull it off with style and his manhood intact, I see no reason why modern men can’t enjoy these films as well. But I digress.

The plot of Traveler is easy to sum up, but confusing (at first, anyway) to jive with. It revolves around Henry DeTamble (Eric Bana), a man who has a neurological disease that causes him to randomly travel through time. The woman he loves, Claire Abshire (Rachel McAdams), he first met when he traveled back in time to when she was six years old, and they’ve been in love ever since. The story follows their life together, going through the many pitfalls that would accompany such a condition.

The joy in the film (and in the book) comes from watching it all play out. You experience life out of order, as Henry does, but it allows a unique perspective on the major events of life. As would be expected, it’s a tearjerker, so be prepared.

Bana shows yet another side of himself (see his flair for the hilarious in Funny People), dropping the tough-guy attitude he usually has for a man vibrantly in love with a woman, and how the very nature of who he is is breaking them down. McAdams, one of the sexiest and most talented actresses we have today, brings the money as she always does, acutely exhibiting the joy and heartache that Claire experiences trying to deal with Henry’s condition. They’re the third wonder couple of the summer’s film season, and watching them together touches on some kind of magic.

The pacing is a little slow, as I already said, but by the end, I wanted to see more of their life together, which gets a bit rushed in order to get to the ending. Most of the science transferred over from the book gets lost, and instead the movie’s focus is the relationships, which hurt the film a little, but not over much.

The Time Traveler’s Wife is basically what one would expect from a so-called “chick flick,” but hell, that’s okay with me. So they turn up the schmaltz. It works, and that’s what the audience wants anyway (the scene – clichéd as it may be – where Claire and Henry run through a field towards each other gave me goose bumps). Put your prejudices aside and let it carry you away.

"Comedy is for Funny People"

Judd Apatow is a lot like Quentin Tarantino was in the late 90’s; he has his hands on a lot of films (writing, producing, ec.) but he’s only directed two – now three – films. Audiences have come to expect a certain kind of comedy from Apatow's movies: funny and crass, but deeply rooted in the characters and about way more than cheap laughs.

In respect to all these expectations, Funny People is without a doubt, Apatow’s most mature film. Its fitting that the story is based on getting older, and what to do when you see the next generation coming up, when you’re still uncertain of what you want to do. Fittingly, the bulk of the movie’s cameos – another requirement from Apatow's films – are older entertainers. Warren Zevon and Jackson Browne both get name-checked - one movingly, the other hilariously -, and James Taylor has perhaps the funniest cameo in the whole movie.

The movie’s plot is centered around George Simmons (Adam Sandler) a former stand-up comedian, turned comedy actor who has lost himself in a slew of crappy family films and meaningless relationships. When he finds out that he has a form of leukemia, he starts to reassess his life. On the top of his mind is the quintessential “girl that got away,” Laura (Leslie Mann).

Into this world comes Ira Wright (Apatow regular, Seth Rogen), a hopeful comedian whose sense of humour catches George's attention one night in a comedy club, so much so that he hires Ira to be his assistant. The two have a great love of comedy, and a real friendship develops, even if George doesn’t want to admit it.

So, when George gets the news that he has miraculously beaten the disease, he has to decide what to do with the second chance he’s been offered. No fair spoiling the end, but its not what would be expected from this kind of comedy.

This all may sound a little too dramatic for an Apatow comedy, but Apatow is a director who knows how to blend humour and heartbreak together seamlessly. Even if the movie was a bit long, all the scenes go toward advancing who these two men are. You could call Funny People a “bromance” (which is a term that just drives me up the wall), but it really is about two men trying to find a way to do what they love in the world.

As always, the supporting cast is fantastic. Jonah Hill and Jason Schwartzman as Ira’s roommates are hilarious, but my favourite was Eric Bana, dropping all the action/drama gravitas he normally is saddled with, and going for outrageously funny as Laura’s Australian husband.

The main three actors are all at the top of their games. Mann (Apatow’s wife) has never been more lovely or vulnerable, skillfully creating a woman in the midst of a crossroads in her life. Rogen, who seems made to deliver Apatow’s brilliant lines, is as funny and charming as he’s ever been, while still conveying all the emotions of a green guy in the world of comedy.

The real money is Sandler, though. After doing a bunch of lackluster roles, Funny People is his best acting display since Punch Drunk Love. I’m not sure how much of his own life he plumed for the role of George, but he brings all kinds of loneliness, bitter humour and confusion to bear for this character. I know he won’t get any love when the award season roles around, but he knocks it out of the park here.

Funny People isn’t as laugh-out loud funny as The 40-Year-Old Virgin or Knocked Up, but it is a film that shows a writer/director coming to grips with age in an industry that usually tries desperately to avoid aging. For me, age looks good on Apatow.