INSIDE MANOHLA

When I first heard the name Manohla Dargis, I figured it had to be an anagram. All I knew was that the words "dingo," "lasagna," "nimrod," "gonads," "aloha," and even the word "anagram" were in there somewhere, but I didn't have the time nor the wherewithal to figure it out. I told my woman about my theory, so she took a crack at it, determined to uncover the mystery. Playing by the rules (using every letter without repeating any), she amused but didn't impress me with "Ham Groin Salad," "Amoral shading" and a few others. But then, she floored me with a doozy... "A Longish Drama." I thought it ironic that Manohla Dargis' enigmatic pen name, after some unscrambling, revealed something that resembled one of her thin, vague, non-committal, but pithy film reviews.

Formerly a critic for the Village Voice (way back in '87), the L.A. Times, and the dreaded L.A. Weakly, avant-gardeist Manohla has been taking the hatchet to various great movies and heavy petting some of the worst dogs this anti-critic has ever seen -- and, all the while, covering herself in those same reviews in case she changes her mind about those films in the future. Still concerned about her legacy, now she's she's spewing obligatory venom AND antidote on behalf of the prestigious New York Times. Unfortunately, the New York Times is no New Yorker, and Miss Dargis is certainly no Pauline Kael. Let's take a look at her calculated attempt to find common ground with the common folk in a review of the latest "Die Hard" flick, a review which exposes her as a Rubik's cube who makes a living keeping her readers puzzled and unable to decipher whether or not she actually liked the movie.

"A lot has happened in the 12 years since Bruce Willis yippee-kai-yay-ed in "Die Hard With a Vengeance" with a glowering Samuel L. Jackson in tow. During that time Mr. Willis's star has expanded and collapsed through hits and duds and plenty of personal off-screen noise. The world has changed too, of course, and with it the action-flick coordinates: for one, Arnold Schwarzenegger runs California, while the sober, nonwisecracking likes of Matt Damon's Bourne rules the bad-boy roost. For another: Mr. Willis has become an increasingly appealing character actor, the kind who punches up a scene or two ("Alpha Dog," "Fast Food Nation") or an entire movie ("16 Blocks"), mostly by playing it not so nice and very easy."

Let's be honest. Going snidely sideways on The Running Man is a transparent maneuver (now exceptionally safe) to forge a "you see, we have a lot in common, commoners"-bond with the general public. Why doesn't she just leave politicking to the people who should be politicking... Hollywood celebrities?!? But, this is what really gets my goat - In her review of the dull, idiotic "16 Blocks," she steps way out of line when she compares some of its characters to the characters that inhabit the films of the great Sidney Lumet. Which ones, Manhole? Sol Nazerman from "The Pawnbroker?" Sonny from "Dog Day Afternoon?" Howard Beale? Just pulling the name Sidney Lumet right out of her ass. I'm certain Mr. Lumet would object not only to that, but for being in there in the first place.

"Life or age or something has mellowed Mr. Willis. He no longer enters a movie like God's gift, as he did almost two decades ago in the first "Die Hard," lips pursed as if he alone were in on the joke — which, given the fat salary he was earning, perhaps he was. In "Live Free or Die Hard" he enters swinging, fist smashing through hard glass and sinking into soft flesh. He's making a point and so is the movie, namely that McClane (and Mr. Willis) is ready to earn our love again by performing the same lovably violent, meathead tricks as before. And look, he's not laughing, not exactly, even if the film ends up a goof."

Meathead? Goof? Are these acceptable words to be bandied about by a "L'Avventura-ficcianado?" I think not, panderer. What would Antonioni think?

"An unexpectedly funny goof, at that, despite everything, including the mayhem and somewhat creepy plot. The screenplay attributed to Mark Bomback, who shares the story credit with David Marconi, has the whiff of multiple writers, as action-driven productions generally do. It originated with a 1997 story (dubiously titled "A Farewell to Arms") by John Carlin in Wired magazine about the potential for a cataclysmic, nation-crippling "information war," which mutated and stalled, picking up new writers and equally doubtful names ("WW3.com," "Die Hard 4.0"). Somewhere along the development line, the real world intruded, which is why the original idea about an information war now includes a plausible-sounding or at least not entirely outlandish hook to Sept. 11 — hence, the creepiness."

"The whiff of multiple writers," is an odor I and most Americans can deal with. The whiff of self-aggrandizing gobbledy gook, on the other hand, has me on my knees clutching a plug-in Glade, coughing as I make my way to the outlet, considering the alternative tongue-insertion. As for her thinly veiled but unsinkable condescension, a constant in her writing, shit lathered with perfume is still shit that stinks.

"Despite its jaw-jutting title, with its evocation of revolutionary America and radical individualism, "Live Free or Die Hard" keeps a tighter rein on McClane, dialing down his man-against-the-world attitude to a low hum. He's still more or less alone, at least existentially, though, as per the action playbook, he quickly picks up a sidekick and audience surrogate in the hacker impersonated by Justin Long (flicking between annoyance and amusement)."

Why drop the existentialism-bomb? Could her weakness for the avant-garde extend even to Bruce Willis box office blockbusters? C'est it ain't so.

"But McClane is also unequivocally playing for team America, helping the F.B.I. and its no-nonsense, supremely capable deputy director, Bowman (Cliff Curtis), who runs the sillily named cyber division with blinking monitors and scurrying minions. Heroic in deed and in acquaintance, Bowman knows to side with McClane, saving his contemptuous looks for the guy from Homeland Security. Nothing on Len Wiseman's résumé — he previously directed the two "Underworld" flicks, wherein the Goth kids really are vampires — suggests that he could wrangle both Mr. Willis and this new film's nerve-jangling action to such satisfying effect. At least on the second count he has received terrific help from a sprawling cast of stuntmen and -women (and the stunt coordinator Brad Martin), who do a great deal to advance the film's old-school mayhem. The use of Parkour during several fight scenes is particularly tasty, proving that when cinematic push comes to shove, the French, who originated this ultra-cool rough-and-tumble, which finds performers bouncing like balls from wall to wall, rooftop to rooftop and many hair-raising points in between, are definitely in the coalition of the willing."

Of course, now it all makes sense. The use of Parkour. How else could she justify enjoying this film on any level to her friends at Cannes? Senseless Asian Martial Arts she has a problem with. French dance-violence, on the other hand... ooh lah lah.

Dear Manohla Dargis,

Back in 2002, Steve Erickson interviewed you. Fascinating reading, especially this part:

"Frankly, I am pretty bored with most of the film criticism I read, to the point that I am beginning to think we need to start re-examining what it is and what it's good for, if anything. Of course, most of what's out there isn't really criticism but a degraded form of reviewing – just thumbs up, thumbs down, with a heavy dose of plot synopsis."

Okay, well, seeing as how you probably only read your own reviews, it's no wonder you got bored and questioned the validity of your profession. Who wouldn't have? All joking aside, I think it was an astute observation, and very telling. Couldn't help but chuckle at your nasty swipes at Roger Ebert and the dead Gene Siskel. But I must add, your review of "Live Free Or Die Hard" made me long for the type of review that is less gray area and more committal. It's a pity that someone with so many words in her arsenal (and within her name) doesn't use those words more effectively - that is, unless your sole purpose as an employee of The Times is to disorient the masses. I understand that you cut your teeth on films of the avant garde, but surrealism, absurdism, and post-Dada surrealistic absurdism have no place in the writing of critiques. These are simply signs of artistic insecurities, and should be used only by real artists who, to avoid ridicule, justifiably play it safe by hiding behind the mask of a style that doesn't allow for scrutiny, as there are no rules to break, no standards to rebel against, and usually nothing substantial under the surface. Stick with the linear, Man-O, that's where the true risk-takers are.

Pardon the tangent, just trying to get your attention. The message I'm trying to convey is this: If you can't decide whether to say yea or nay, say nothing and give another critic at the Times a shot. People turn to film criticism because they're trying to decide whether or not to go see a certain film. It is your job to make that decision easier, not more difficult. The average film-goer could care less about minutiae that turns you on or off. That minutiae might even repel that person from seeing a movie you recommend! I'm fairly certain this Die Hard review was a thumbs-up, but I didn't realize it until after I removed your finger from my eye. Please, for the sake of the people who still go to the movies, be clear, take a stand, sit down, and shut up.

Adieu,
Stalks Muddily

THE ANDYMAN FAN

I know speaking ill of the ill is even worse than speaking ill of the dead, so I'll hold off on making a hamburger out of that sacred cow, Roger Ebert. At least for a couple weeks. Instead, right now I'd like to accentuate the positive with a heartfelt rave review of one of the most underrated, under-appreciated critics alive. His name is Andy Klein, and his game is truthsaying.

Speaking of hamburgers... As a kid, back in the mid-eighties, I suffered from an affliction known as Astro Burger's Syndrome. Donkey Kong, Pac Man... even Elevator Action. I spent more time inside that AB on Santa Monica and Gardner than Jerry Stahl spent out in front of it scoring H. And once a week, on the day The L.A. Reader hit the stands, I would anxiously run down there to grab a copy, only to find myself LMAO at Matt Groening's "Life In Hell" and David Lynch's "Angriest Dog In The World"... but only after reading AK's latest movie review. Bullshit soaked in perfume is still bullshit, and that's what you get from most critics - but not what you get from Andy.

Andy Klein is like a great prizefighter who delivers punches only when necessary, and does not, in the process, wear himself out. He doesn't wear the reader out, either. Two-fisted, no-nonsense body blows - that's what you get from Andy. And not unlike Republican Welterweight Ron Paul, but with the flair of an old-school journalist, he's ready to scrap for what he believes in and against each injustice he finds himself in the ring with, even if it means going up against his sheep-like colleagues. And, unlike the fancy car-driving pushover critics (you know who I mean), he never took a dive. Take a gander at Andy's Top 10 list of 2005, and note that "Crash" is nowhere on the list. In fact, here's what he's said about The Big "C": "contrived, schematic, and way overpraised, with its checklist of good African American, bad African American, good white cop, bad white cop, etc." How's that for an Uppercut-A-Palooza?!?! Anyway, here's that list... are you down for the count-down?

Andy’s Top 10 of 2005

1. Batman Begins. It only took four titles for Warner’s Batman franchise to fall apart, declining from the inspired sloppiness of Tim Burton’s first two entries to the campy excess of Joel Schumacher’s Batman and Robin. After a hiatus of eight years, the studio made the surprising, but wise, decision to bring in Christopher Nolan (Memento) to revive the moribund series. Nolan’s strategy was simply to approach this 66-year-old iconic character with respect. Gone are any vestiges of campiness or surreal production design or strangely unpatched plot holes. He puts Batman in a relatively real world and makes us understand why he strikes fear in the hearts of the bad guys. The result is darker, more disturbing, and far more character-oriented than its predecessors without forgoing the requisite action sequences. (Christopher Nolan, U.S.)

Look, I never saw it... just not my thing. Never considered watching it. Once, while I was browsing at Blockbuster with some chick (my mom, I think), she suggested renting it. With all the sincerity I could muster, which wasn't much, I said... "Uh... I... already saw it." But, this guy's got balls for topping his list with it. Great big ones, but not as big as the balls of...

2. King Kong. Another intimidating icon gets an update, this time Merian C. Cooper and Ernest Schoedsack’s oversized gorilla. Peter Jackson not only takes advantage of technical possibilities that didn’t exist in 1933, but, more importantly, fleshes out the relationship between Kong and his human paramour, which was always one of the most confused elements in the original. It might not have worked, were it not for the extraordinary Naomi Watts and the work of Andy Serkis, whose performance was transferred to Kong through the same techniques used for his Gollum in The Lord of the Rings. Jackson has added a lot of humor and expanded the action sequences, none of which I would have wanted to miss. Still, at three hours and seven minutes, the whole might be too much of a good thing. (Peter Jackson, New Zealand/U.S.)

Couldn't get over the use of a song recorded in the fifties by Peggy Lee. Why didn't they just use a recording of the same song from the thirties, when the story supposedly took place? Ruined the whole movie for me, but I thoroughly enjoyed the glowing review.

3. Oldboy. Park Chan-wook’s dazzling thriller – about a middle-class man (Choi Min-sik) who escapes (or is released) from a bizarre private prison and then tries to find out who had him locked up … and why – may sound ridiculous, but eventually comes together in a way that at least makes sense within the film’s heightened universe. The style – both visually and on the soundtrack – is so rich that Park finesses us past any sticky points. Some may argue that the film is essentially empty: all effect and contrivance, but so hermetically sealed off from the real world as to be trivial. But there are rich thematic underpinnings here that justify Park’s excesses. (Park Chan-wook, South Korea)

Yes, Mister Klein has one weakness. His Achilles is Asian Cinema. This movie is okay, but it's no "Kung Fu Hustle," which had action, romance, humor, and real emotional depth, not the kind of shoehorned heart at the core of "Oldboy." Andy, if you're out there, when you're reviewing films, put away the manga cards and ease up. BTW, "KFH" was my number one pick that year.

4. The Aristocrats. Okay: call me crazy, but this documentary from comedians Penn Jillette (producer) and Paul Provenza (producer/director) gave me more sheer pleasure than anything else I saw this year. Multiple viewings did nothing to diminish my nearly health-threatening laughter. The pair taped more than 100 of their colleagues, telling their individual versions of a classic dirty joke called “The Aristocrats,” or alternately discussing it, analyzing it, re-creating it in endless ways. Provenza has edited the film to touch on a whole variety of serious (in the good way) issues about humor and jokes and taboos and bad taste and being a comedian, without ever getting serious (in the bad way). (Paul Provenza, U.S.)

If there's one thing AK has, it's a great sense of humor. I'll never forget reading his review of "Swing Kids," a movie about an underground Jitterbug craze/movement in Germany (during the reign of Adolf Hitler). Although the film itself is not a comedy, in his review Andy evoked the name of one of America's greatest humorists, the too often ignored Jack Douglas, describing the film's concept as one he would've enjoyed. In addition to writing for "Laugh In" and a host of comedians including Jack Paar, Jack Douglas wrote some of the funniest books ever written, including, "My Brother Was An Only Child," "The Neighbors Are Scaring My Wolf," and "A Funny Thing Happened To Me On My Way To The Grave." Andy brought him up again in a review of the Woody Allen film "Anything Else" - "By way of incomplete homage, Dobel (Allen) makes mention of Jack Douglas’s hysterical book Never Trust a Naked Bus Driver – which I pretty much worshiped in junior high school – without, I’m sad to say, crediting Douglas as other than 'a very funny man.'” Kudos, Andy, for acknowledging a great writer who probably had more than just a little influence on the earlier, sillier writing-style of The Woodman.

5. Brokeback Mountain. Ang Lee’s sensitive adaptation of Annie Proulx’s short story has been deservedly racking up awards. Despite what sounds like the world’s least commercial concept – two cowboys (Heath Ledger, Jake Gyllenhaal) fall in love with each other in the early 1960s – it seems to be touching the hearts of multitudes who are neither gay nor cowboys. The film doesn’t really pick up until a half hour in, when the two are separated and have to retreat into some very well-guarded closets. It’s downbeat, but the leads carry it off, particularly Ledger, who gets more to work with. (Ang Lee, U.S.)

Think they should've kept the original title ("High Moon"). AK, maybe you can tell me why, in a rural town during a time when Vietnam was supposed to have been raging, there was no mention of the war. Wouldn't that authenticity have made the film resonate more? Or do you think it would've distracted everyone from something infinitely more important - man-kissing?!?

6. Capote. Director Bennett Miller and screenwriter Dan Futterman tell the story of famed writer Truman Capote researching and writing his crime bestseller In Cold Blood. On the level of gestures and speech – that is, of impersonation – Philip Seymour Hoffman is just about perfect, but he is also convincing in the more important ways – in terms of creating an intimate sense of the writer’s internal, spiritual conflict. (Bennett Miller, U.S.)

Hey, nobody asked who the best male impersonator was. And as far as I know, Phillip Seymour Hoffman IS a male. Hell-o-o!

7. Good Night, and Good Luck. In addition to coproducing and starring in Stephen Gaghan’s Syriana, George Clooney directed and cowrote this re-creation of Edward R. Murrow’s risky opposition to McCarthyism. David Strathairn impressively captures Murrow. It’s both a political parable – with obvious resonance in post-9/11 America – and an homage to the early days of TV journalism. (George Clooney, U.S.)

I'm sorry, Andy, but who wants to see a movie about some guy who obviously stole Keith Olbermann's act? Move over, Carlos Mencia. You got nothin' on this Murrow fellow.

8. Caché (Hidden). Austrian director Michael Haneke is a professional cinema provocateur, whose narrative experiments match his harsh indictment of the smug bourgeoisie. Daniel Auteuil and Juliette Binoche play a couple whose lives are turned upside down by a series of anonymous videotapes, which may be the revenge of an Algerian the husband wronged 40 years earlier, when both were children. The film is a thriller, but not the sort we’re accustomed to. For one thing, the central riddle – who’s sending the tapes? and why – is never satisfactorily resolved, even for viewers who notice the crucial, barely visible hint during the final shot. (Michael Haneke, France)

You had to do it, didn't you? A French film on your Top Ten list? Well, isn't that perfect? Maybe you're just like the rest after all. Call me post-tentious, but that's not just a red flag... it's a blue, white and red flag. You, sir, suddenly smack of cheese and condescension.

9. Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit. With an assist from codirector Steve Box, Nick Park, who has yet to disappoint, returns to Wallace and Gromit – the plasticene-animated characters of his early shorts. W & G’s first feature is essentially more of the same – and that’s a good thing. The humor is all of a piece with the shorts, dense with background jokes. Kids will probably love it, though there may be even more here for adults. (Nick Park/Steve Box, U.K.)

Don't know if you're a father, Mr. Klein, but a lot of things "kids would probably love" aren't good for them. In fact, they're downright life-threatening. Just because it's shiny doesn't mean a kid should swallow a fifty-cent piece. Grow up and smell the danger, A-hole! The Aussies are taking over!

10. Match Point. After a string of mediocre to passable films, Woody Allen fans had good reason to wonder whether the once revered filmmaker had lost it. This new entry – which covers some of the same turf as the 1990 Crimes and Misdemeanors, one of his true masterpieces – should put their fears to rest. For more, see the review elsewhere in this issue. (Woody Allen, U.S./U.K.)

WHAT?!?! That sounds vaguely like something E.T. might have spewed! And now that I think about it, your review of "Sicko," although not as jaw-droppingly offensive as Miss Taylor's, did also cause you to dredge up your personal life.

"So, a couple of months ago, I was getting jerked around by my health plan. The details are probably of interest to no one but me and a few friends (and I’m not so sure about them), but suffice it to say that it seems to have all worked out. Various functionaries kept telling me I was out of luck, citing a succession of bogus reasons, but my experiences years ago navigating the financial aid office at UCLA taught me a valuable lesson: The red tape is designed to wear you down, in hopes that you’ll just give up. So don’t."

Dear Andy Klein,

Stopping short of accusing you of literally sleeping with the enemy (although I can't think of any other logical explanation for the eerie similarities between Ella Taylor's review of "Sicko" and yours ), I will say this - you still work at a paper that has retained a certain amount of respectability, thanks mostly to you (and the fact that L.A. CityBeat is not at the mercy of corrosive political correctness). My advice is to stay away from her. At all costs! She will eat your soul for breakfast, tell you it's delicious, then make some snarky remark about how she prefers the taste of kippers. Leave her now, even if she promises a three-way with Manohla Dargis.
Your Cutman,

Salty Milkduds