By my count, I've got a backlog of 14 entries that I have to get to, and that is not counting any Prick Tunes entries. I've been a busy boy and honestly have been a bit overwhelmed lately. I hope to put that in the past, as I'm coming down the home-stretch on a creative project that I hope to complete later today. I also intend to have the last of the Wordy Old Men on Downton Abbey pieces up on its scheduled Wednesday slot. In the meantime, here is the first of more than three weeks of material that I've got in store for y'all.
For those not aware, Klown is the feature-length filmic continuation of a six-season sitcom of the roughly same name, Klovn. Klovn (the 'v' spelling will be used for differentiating between the series and the movie, which will be spelled with the 'w') is, at the cost of being reductive to what may be a fault, the Danish Curb Your Enthusiasm. The concept is a show inspired by real situations, following two comedians, Frank Hvam and Casper Christensen, playing versions of themselves and featuring their friends, celebrities and otherwise. The score is also shockingly similar to that of the Larry David brainchild. That isn't to say that the show is or isn't good on its own merits--I haven't seen enough of it to evaluate it--but more to give you a frame of reference.
The easiest way to describe watching Klown would be to use the following analogy: Seeing Klown (for 95% of us) is like seeing Trailer Park Boys: Countdown to Liquor Day without having seen the series; it would be funny, you might feel the urge to seek out the series, but much of the character-driven humor would not carry the same punch it would if you had seen the film. The primary difference, of course, is that in the TPB analogy we're talking about a Canadian export; Klown is Danish, and the Danes are much more fucked up than our mild-mannered Neighbors to the North. Klown is accordingly more self-destructive, more politically incorrect foul, more drug-fueled, more sexualized, and more extreme while maintaining roughly the same pace. After all, what good is all of the social awkwardness without ample time given to squirm?
Given the other films that Drafthouse Films has distributed domestically (Four Lions, Bullhead, The FP), one can probably imagine roughly what this film would be like. Both Four Lions and Bullhead were not films with the typical viewpoint filmgoers are used to seeing. Klown is no different. It surely is not everybody's cup of tea, but I laughed heartily often and wasn't put-off completely by its indebtedness to one of my favorite shows ever, Curb Your Enthusiasm. Director Mikkel Nørgaard and writers/stars Casper Christensen and Frank Hvam certainly did enough with Klown that it made me want to go back and check out the series, and it certainly made me wonder what happened to Iben Hjejle's stateside film career.
As promised last time, here is the first entrant into what should be a fruitful, if often shorter, additional section to the blog. One in which we (perhaps only royally speaking) look at movies that are available on Netflix Instant Queue and therefore instantly accessible to many of you readers.
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is the Swedish adaptation of the absurdly (and arguably unjustly) popular Swedish crime novel by Stieg Larsson. Having just finished the book, I decided to throw this on in the midst of a Netflix-athon with Munch My Benson co-contributor, softitems. Given the freshness of the material, I oddly found myself feeling obligated to explain things, and this was not because of any shortcomings on her part.
Honestly, the film seemed to be a bit of a mess to me. Since the book shared a similar shortcoming, I suppose it only makes sense in the end, but it just felt like there were plot holes. This is largely because the book is an unwieldy material to have to adapt. There are essentially 150 pages before the disappearance of Harriet Vanger is touched on and another 100 after that aspect of the story is resolved. These 250 pages deal largely with the mostly disposable Wennerstrom Affair, but there is also crucial character development of the male protagonist that occurs therein. As this section is largely omitted from the movie, the development of Mikael Blomkvist is sorely lacking. Without this, the fact that Lisbeth (the female protagonist) is drawn to Mikael kind of comes out of the blue.
Given that they are screenwriters Nikolaj Arcel and Rasmus Heisterberg were tasked to adapt a 600 page book, they probably did about as well as could be expected. There is a lot of fat in the novel, and for the most part they trimmed it well. A few characters were combined and the mystery was streamlined a bit. I don't know that I would say the film wasn't worth watching, but I honestly have to say, given its shortcomings, that I am actually curious to see the impending American remake, and you couldn't have said that about most of the American takes on the Scandinavian oeuvre. Given that Steven Zaillian is adapting the screenplay, and David Fincher is directing, I can't imagine it won't be an improvement.
The other thing that struck me while watching the film was, "Wait, I don't remember the Scandinavian peoples as being particularly homely..." Yet, here, frankly, not an attractive cast. Pretty much across the board. Call me shallow, but it made me feel like I was watching a mid-90s BBC production.
Maybe I'm in the minority here, but I just did not get why the book and now the movie are all the rage. They're both all right. The book is readable. The movie is watchable. They are both entertaining enough, but they both seem flawed, and the thing that redeemed the book for me--the interesting relationship between Mikael and Lisbeth--is kind of handled poorly in the Niels Arden Oplev film version.
But it is out there for you to watch. Did anyone out there feel strongly differently?
If you like old Finnish cock, you'll love Rare Exports. If your idea of fun isn't extras from the Lemon Party being thrown into the Finnish tundra nude for 20 minutes, then maybe it would be best for you to avoid Rare Exports.
It was weird in a few ways. Namely, it wasn't really the ludicrous Santa horror movie I was expecting it to be based on the trailer.
It was, however, the movie with the most old cock I can fathom. That's a lot of old cock. And it had it. Holy hell, did it have loads of old, old, old dick. Other than that, all of the action seemed to be in the trailer.
It was a weird little Scandinavian film, with bearded old Finnish dudes naked in the wintry out-of-doors and a kid with a shitty mullet and some other stuff that happened.
What follows are two untimely, brief reflections on two films that I saw a few weeks ago. Obviously, these films are not exactly fresh in my mind anymore. I probably could have written this stuff up when I was typing up that entirely masturbatory Kuffs entry last week, but I didn't. Maybe Kuffs just needed the more immediate attention. Regardless, here it goes.
Let the Right One In (or Låt den rätte komma in in Swedish) is first and foremost the best pre-teen vampire movie you will ever see. Its source material was an international bestseller by the same name that was adapted for the screen by the novelist himself, John Ajvide Lindqvist. The story is simple enough: Oskar is a 12-year old brutally bullied outcast who befriends and becomes enamored with a mysterious girl, Eli, who has just moved in next door with her abiding fatherly guardian. Upon their arrival, people start disappearing while a sweet and innocent love blossoms between Oskar and Eli.
Directed by Tomas Alfredson, Let the Right One In deftly balances subtlety and nuance with a generous smattering of suspense while ultimately telling a cute story of love and devotion. The film is very Scandinavian in humor and pacing to go with its wintry climes, and it makes the inspired choice to have many of the onscreen horrors committed by humans, further endearing Eli to the audience.
If you get the chance, it's a great little film that should be seen before the American remake (oh, don't worry, it's already been greenlit--much to Alfredson's chagrin--and is to be helmed by Matt Reeves, the director of Cloverfield) surely tarnishes its name.
If that didn't convince you, maybe the trailer will help:
If you have already seen it, here's a little interview with the director, his diplomatic response to the remake is much more subdued than his initial response at moviezine.se later reported here.
On an entirely different note, after three attempts I finally got to see Role Models, the latest directorial effort from David Wain of "The State" and "Stella" notoriety who previously directed the superb Wet Hot American Summer and the uneven but occasionally funny The Ten. I'd imagine just about everybody who comes here with any degree of frequency is already well aware of the film, so I'll pare my thoughts down to a reaction more than anything else.
The film was pretty funny. It came highly recommended by two readers here, and their enthusiastic reactions were probably responsible for my lofty expectations, which were not met. The kids didn't bother me, somewhat surprisingly since most kids in comedies tend to come off as too broad and/or precocious in the Cop and a Half/Problem Child/Atonement way--which are not good things if you are an adult. Seann William Scott and Paul Rudd were both funny enough, as were many of the supporting cast. There were diatribes on bullshit Starbucks-inspired coffee sizing and running jokes involving bagel dogs, both of which are topics that are near and dear to my heart. Jane Lynch always surprises me at just how funny she is in that awkward alpha-female role. I think the movie is legitimately funny. It just fell shy of my surely unreasonable expectations--which is pretty much the reason I did not ever bring myself to write an entry on Burn After Reading.
