2010 (1984) – ***
(Note that the subtitle The Year We Make Contact appears only in the promotional material; the actual film is simply titled 2010.)
2010 could be summed up as 2001, but shitty. Where 2001 is timeless, 2010 is firmly trenched in the Cold War. Where 2001 is mysterious, 2010 is heavy-handed and muddled. Where 2001 is awe-inspiring, 2010 is sleep-inducing. But perhaps I’m being unfair, comparing 2010 so heavily to its predecessor. On its own terms, it has some ambition, and it’s competently put together. But it’s still very boring, and it’s hard to care about the goings-on – and harder still to actually enjoy this film.
That’s what I wrote on Criticker back in 2011, although I’m not sure when if that’s I actually saw 2010; it was one of many films I wrote up after I’d created my account. Regardless, I was damned hard on the film, scoring it a miserable 45 out of 100 (a mid-low **), and obviously judging it solely against 2001, which had long been established as one of my favorite films of all time.
I do need to write a proper review of 2001 at some point, but it was time to give 2010 a fresh look – and while I still think it’s a long way from the genius of its predecessor, it really is a decent film in its own right, albeit one that’s easier to compliment than truly praise.
It begins quite well, with the famous line “My God, it’s full of stars” (used in the novel 2001, but not the film) delivered through such distortion that it sounds well-nigh demonic, followed by an eerily terse recap of the first film, using only the text of Dr. Heywood Floyd’s mission report, stills from the film, and a droning score which seems to have been composed by the film’s composer David Shire, but which strongly evokes the Ligeti themes used in the earlier film. The repeated use of “unknown” in the report drives home the profound mystery facing us and Floyd as the film starts.
We meet him (played by Roy Scheider, replacing William Sylvester) as he’s tending to the Very Large Array in New Mexico – a suitably dramatic location – and is approached by Moisevitch (Dana Elcar), a leader of the Soviet space program, who reveals that the Soviets, like the Americans, are planning an expedition to the Discovery to find out what caused HAL 9000 to kill four people – and what happened to Dave Bowman (Keir Dullea) after he saw…well, whatever was full of stars.
It’s enjoyable, between the writing and the performances of Scheider and Elcar, to watch the two men dance around the sensitive politics at play and realize that it really behooves them to join forces (the Soviets would get there first but they need the Americans to properly investigate the ship). In my old review I grumbled about the film being too much a product of the Cold War, and to be sure, the subtly sinister exchange in the first film between Floyd and the Soviet scientists is more intriguing than the overt messaging here. But taken on its own, the story is carried along well enough.
The film does start to lose a bit of a steam as we deal with some generic tension between Floyd and his wife Caroline (Madolyn Smith) over his going on the expedition – though the dolphins which have access to their living room, in some connection with her work as a marine biologist, make for a memorably odd moment – but we’re soon deep into space and get to meet the other members of the expedition after Floyd is awakened from hibernation. The main Soviets are the dutiful captain, Kirbuk (Helen Mirren), the deadpan scientist Orlov (Oleg Rudnik), and the earthy engineer Brailovsky (Elya Baskin). The other Americans are Dr. Chandra (Bob Balaban), who programmed HAL, and Curnow (John Malkovich), who designed the Discovery.
In contrast to the restrained characterizations of the first film, there are humanizing touches throughout 2010; Floyd comforting the terrified Irina (Natasha Shneider) during the “aerobraking” sequence and offering Kirbuk some bourbon after things first go wrong, Brailovsky garbling American turns of phrase and forming a bromance with Curnow after they take a difficult spacewalk together, or Floyd and Curnow reminiscing about ballpark hot dogs. Some of these work, mainly due to the capable actors.
But I’m more interested in the unassuming Chandra and his relationship with HAL, which leads to the revelation that HAL was asked to lie about the objective of the original mission if asked, causing him to behave erratically – and fatally – and in the Bowman we meet, who is not alive as such but an emissary for the forces who’ve been at play the whole time, and is allowed to bid farewell to his ex-wife Betty (Mary Jo Deschanel) in a touching scene, and to his dying mother (Herta Ware) in a rather creepy scene.
And eventually we will learn that Europa is to be the cradle of a new lifeform – if not a whole world’s worth of life forms – and Jupiter will turn into a sun, the sight of which will apparently make night obsolete on Earth and cause the Americans and Soviets to step back from the brink of war. For my part, I’m not too convinced that would be the case, or that Earth as a whole wouldn’t have some difficulty adapting to this new normal.
Certainly 2010 can be heavy-handed (Floyd’s messages to his wife are blatant exposition dumps), but muddled? Not really – director Peter Hyams’ script is really quite straightforward, even when it confronts the incomprehensible, most effectively when Floyd meets “Bowman” and he shifts from young, to old, to the Star Child as the baffled Floyd watches. It’s certainly not “sleep-inducing” – it held my attention well enough. And it’s certainly competently put together; it was nominated for Oscars for its sets (solid), costumes (eh), makeup (sure), sound (yes), and visual effects (less seamless than the first film but still good).
It just doesn’t rise above that level of “solid” enough to merit more than ***. There’s not quite enough to the story to make it a truly successful sequel, and not enough of a vision to make it a truly strong film in its own right. But it has enough good moments (“Will I dream?”) and enough skill on display on both sides of the camera to be worth seeing – and maybe even worth seeing again.
Score: 74
Sparks in concert at the Midland, 7/8/23
I don’t go to many concerts. Between the expense of concert tickets and the fact that I tend to find them overwhelming and/or deafening, I generally don’t bother with them, and only a few stand out in my memory – seeing the Trans-Siberian Orchestra in Dallas with my friend Spencer, seeing Zola Jesus in Lawrence, KS with my friend Ethan, and seeing Ginuwine in Kansas City (for free) with several friends back in 2016. It’s just not my thing.
But as I’ve amply raved about Sparks on this blog before, and as I had little reason to believe they’d ever come to Kansas City, there was no way I wasn’t going to see them when, earlier this year, it was announced they’d play at the Midland Theatre downtown. I bought my tickets the day they went on sale in February, and Ethan – who’d introduced me to them back in college, and will have seen them three times, I think, by the end of this tour – was amping me up and making sure I wasn’t going to somehow miss the show. Not that I’d left anything to chance.
Given my limited concert experience, it may not be saying much when I say this is the best show I’ve ever seen – but having seen countless live performances, I can safely say the Mael brothers and their backing band – drummer Steven Nistor, guitarists Evan Weiss and Eli Pearl, and bassist Max Whipple – put on one hell of a show, and that Russell Mael, at 74, has a lot more energy than I do at 33.
When I arrived, in addition to appreciating the splendor of the Midland itself (it was built in the 1920s and the elaborate architecture reflects that), I was happy to see how large and varied the audience was. I don’t know if the show was sold out, but it seemed pretty full, and it ranged from older fans who’d probably been following the Maels since their first successes in the 70s, to fans who might have come along in the “I Predict”/”Cool Places” era of the 80s, to those who might’ve entered the fold in the 90s when “When Do I Get to Sing ‘My Way'” dropped, to those who got their first taste of Sparks with their Franz Ferdinand collaboration FFS, or even those whose gateway drug was The Sparks Brothers and/or Annette. When you have a career like the Maels have had, that’s the kind of fanbase you accumulate.
The show kicked off with “So May We Start” from Annette, a song I love and as perfect a way to begin a show as it was to begin the movie. That segued into the title track from their new album, “The Girl is Crying in Her Latte,” and while our performance didn’t include Cate Blanchett grooving out to the chorus, it’s still a fun song – and one which I now see as tying into the album’s themes of urban isolation and sophisticated melancholy, as would also be reflected in “It Doesn’t Have to Be That Way” (sung from the perspective of a disillusioned 22-hour-old baby), “Escalator” (the unrequited love of a commuter set to a wistful techno-pop theme), “We Go Dancing” (a bitterly satirical, highly topical piece whose melodies evoke vintage Stravinsky), “It Doesn’t Have to Be That Way” (a simpler, more hopeful song about being able to change the path of one’s life), and “Gee, That Was Fun” (a fitting end to the main part of the show).
The rest of the setlist (I don’t remember the exact order – this is the average setlist for the tour) was comprised of selections from their huge back catalogue, including “Beaver O’Lindy” (“Well, I’m the girl in your head but the boy in your bed”), “This Town Ain’t Big Enough for Both of Us” (everyone sang along to the title line), “The Number One Song in Heaven” (featuring Ron’s magnificently silly dancing), “When I’m With You” (really a very poignant song), “Angst in My Pants” (not so poignant).
“Shopping Mall of Love” (featuring some hilarious deadpan spoken-word from Ron), “Music That You Can Dance To” (a self-aware slice of dance-pop), “When Do I Get to Sing ‘My Way'” (which is probably a prerequisite for them at this point), and “Balls” (one of my very favorite songs of theirs – I cheered when it began).
Suitably, the encore comprised the wonderful “My Baby’s Taking Me Home” (almost a mantra of a song, but absolutely hypnotic) and “All That” (which could be considered Sparks’ “My Way”). We also had some words of gratitude from Russell and Ron, who didn’t remember having played Kansas City before (they had, but it had been some years – I couldn’t find the actual date), and much cheering from the audience – including myself, who somehow didn’t scream myself hoarse.
All throughout, Russell’s boundless energy and eternal youthfulness (he’s always been a perfectly overripe frontman) was a joy to watch, and Ron’s stoic reserve, normally seated behind his keyboard, relaxed at all the right moments, including those noted above. Obviously one must take the on-stage behaviors of such veterans with a grain of salt, but the brothers Mael seemed as unassuming and good-humored as they did throughout The Sparks Brothers.
I’m not sure what else to say, except that I enjoyed myself thoroughly and feel ever more validated in calling Sparks my favorite band. I really should dig even deeper into their music than I already have; they’re one of the few bands that really compels me so to do, for all the reasons I’ve offered in all the times I’ve written about them. And if they ever come to Kansas City again – or are anywhere near whatever city I’m in – I’ll make damn sure I see them again. Long may the Sparks fly.
Joy Ride (2023) – ***
Audrey and Lolo have had a familiar dynamic since childhood, when they were the only Asian kids in school. Audrey has always been demure and studious, while Lolo has always been vulgar and outspoken – the kind of person who’ll always have your back and show you a good time, but not the kind of person you necessarily want around when you’re trying to impress your boss. And Audrey is trying to impress her boss at her high-powered firm by closing a deal with a Chinese client, but she doesn’t speak Chinese; she was adopted from China as an infant by her white American parents. Lolo speaks Chinese; her parents are first-generation immigrants.
So it’s with some trepidation that Audrey asks Lolo to go on the trip and be her translator, and when Lolo’s oddball cousin Deadeye shows up, Lolo insists they’ll be going their own way upon arrival – which, of course, is not the case. And when they meet up with Audrey’s college bestie Kat, who’s starring on a costume-drama show with her very sexy (and very religious) fiancé, Lolo and Kat immediately start butting heads – often in Chinese, which Audrey can’t understand.
Then, when the client presses Audrey on her family background and is hesitant when she demurs, Lolo reveals she’s in touch with her birth mother – except she’s not, and Audrey has tried to dodge Lolo’s suggestion that they track her down. Now they don’t have a choice, and as they set off to find her, matters take a turn for the ridiculous – not that they haven’t been comedic so far, what with Lolo’s brazenly lewd art, Audrey’s attempts to match her clients drink for drink, and jokes about white awkwardness regarding race that ruffled the feathers of at least one infamous critic.
Much of the fun of Joy Ride is in seeing how things play out, as our protagonists face ever-greater obstacles and rise above them – or barrel right through them – and how unexpected twists of fate lead to moments of heartbreak and separation…and, this being a lighthearted comedy, to reconciliation and a happy ending, with plenty of room for a sequel.
The advertising for Joy Ride makes no bones about the archetypal nature of its characters. The character posters call Audrey (Ashley Park) “the responsible one”, Lolo (Sherry Cola) “the mouthy one”, Kat (Stephanie Hsu) “the sorta famous one,” and Deadeye (Sabrina Wu) “the chaotic one.” Some of these don’t fit perfectly – Kat seems to be legitimately famous – but there’s no denying that we’ve seen these types before (Deadeye in particular brings Alan from The Hangover to mind), and we’ve seen these story beats before, especially the secrets kept for the sake of dramatic tension and the recriminations which lead to a very temporary falling-out before the reset button is decisively pressed.
It’s this predictability which keeps the film from rising above *** for me; as much as I enjoyed it, it too often crams itself into the raunchy-comedy framework producers Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg have honed over the years, making for some rough shifts in the script by Cherry Chevapravatdumrong and Teresa Hsiao (from a story they developed with director Adele Lim) between broad farce and sincere drama.
But it’s a very high ***, and there are ample reasons why. It is, after all, quite a funny movie, especially when it touches on cultural differences between Americans and Asians, and amongst Asians; Lolo is often Audrey’s cultural interpreter as well. But it’s also funny because of the dynamic between the characters, between the prim Audrey and the crass Lolo, between the outspoken Lolo and the nervously discreet Kat, and between Deadeye and society in general – not because they’re obnoxious, but because they simply don’t fit in.
The themes of fitting in and belonging are central to the film and account for some of its best moments, comedic and dramatic; Audrey is othered by her white classmates but struggles to feel truly Asian, Lolo struggles to reconcile her outlandish nature with her parents’ straight-laced attitudes, Kat struggles to reconcile her sexuality (especially her sexual past) with her love for her wait-until-marriage fiancé, and Deadeye struggles to balance their need for community with their lack of social skills (they seem to get along best with children).
The film also does two things I found refreshing. First, it shows the virtues of Chinese culture but doesn’t romanticize it; we see how warm and welcoming Lolo and Deadeye’s family can be, but we also see how they can be cold and prejudiced, just as we see how obnoxious Audrey’s white colleagues can be, but how loving and supportive her adoptive parents (David Denman and Annie Mumulo) are.
Second, it’s a genuinely sex-positive film, particularly in the memorable sequence where our protagonists spend the night at a hotel with a basketball team; Lolo has been sexting the team captain (Baron Davis) and they cheerfully go at it in his room, Kat reconnects with an old flame and is amply pleasured without really cheating on her fiancé, Deadeye gets into a dance-off, and Audrey gets into a threesome with two of the players, giving them concussions under orgasmic circumstances. There’s no suggestion of shame or guilt, which I deeply appreciated.
It’s solidly acted as well. Park is an effective straight woman who’s quite capable of joining in the fun, Cola is a likable ride-or-die hot mess, Hsu relishes the nice-as-pie facade Kat tries – and often fails – to erect, and Wu, while I wish they had a little more to do, is wholly convincing as the well-meaning misfit who knows all too well how they come off. I’ll be happy to take another joy ride with these four – especially if the script loosens up a bit.
Score: 76
The Carpetbaggers (1964) – ***
I spent a surprising amount of effort getting a copy of The Carpetbaggers, actually buying a copy of the videotape (still shrink-wrapped!) because the DVD was hard to come by, until I finally found a copy at a library sale for a dollar – the cover was damaged but the disc was unharmed. (Sure, I could’ve gotten a copy or the film itself off the Internet, but where’s the fun in that?) Having now seen it, I don’t necessarily want my money or my time back – most of the fun is in the hunt itself. Besides, I knew what I was getting with this movie, more or less.
Based on the best-selling novel by Harold Robbins, it’s the story of Jonas Cord Jr. (George Peppard), a playboy in the 1920s who becomes dangerously rich and powerful after his father (Leif Erickson) dies unexpectedly. Jonas wastes no time, issuing his first orders while his father’s body is still lying in his office, then heading home to inform his stepmother, Rina (Carroll Baker) – who was Jonas’ girlfriend until the promise of his father’s money lured her away. Here we get the first taste of their quintessential love-hate relationship; they are repelled by each other’s amorality but full of mutual lust.
But Jonas sends Rina on her way, and his old friend Nevada Smith (Alan Ladd) also plans to strike out on his own – but not before Jonas reveals a manuscript which tells the true story of Nevada’s life, a story which would later be told in the film Nevada Smith (with Steve McQueen assuming the role). Jonas then spends the next few years becoming an industrial tycoon with an emphasis on aviation, which brings Monica Winthrop (Elizabeth Ashley), daughter of airplane manufacturer Amos (Tom Tully) into his orbit. They marry, but Jonas isn’t interested in family life, which Monica becomes painfully aware of.
Matters worsen when Rina re-enters the picture. Nevada has made his way to Hollywood and become a cowboy star, and has summoned Rina to join him; they plan to marry. But after business conflicts with studio head Bernard Norman (Martin Balsam) require Jonas’ help to resolve, Jonas enters the movie business with the same voracious energy he applies to everything, and he pushes Rina onto the screen – and pulls her back into his bedroom, leading Monica to finally file for divorce.
The rest of the film follows Jonas’ wheeling and dealing, his growing callousness to the people around him, and the ultimate revelation of a personal tragedy (involving a long-lost brother and the fear of insanity) that has caused him to shut himself off from real human happiness for so long. There’s plenty of sex, drinking, and shouting, but will there be a comeuppance and/or a happy ending? It is a movie, after all.
Jonas is, of course, inspired by Howard Hughes, who built and flew airplanes, made movies, and struggled with mental illness. But 40 years after The Carpetbaggers, we got The Aviator, a film that’s actually about Hughes and is better in pretty much every way. Do we still need The Carpetbaggers, especially when the Robbins brand has largely vanished from the mainstream? Maybe not, but if you enjoy this kind of all-star soap opera, it makes for solid entertainment.
For me, it’s the acting that really makes the film work. Peppard is perfectly cast as the fiercely driven, arrogant, amoral Jonas; you believe in his bottomless appetite for power and his ability to get it, whatever the cost in dollars and/or human happiness. Ashley (who actually got a Globe nomination) isn’t quite able to make Monica’s poignant devotion convincing, but that’s more on the writing, as she otherwise brings wit, sexuality, and sheer likability to the table, giving Monica far more dimension than the role might have had on the page. Baker is hampered even more by the writing – Rina is clearly a mercenary but the film hints at greater depths than it’s finally able to explore – but she’s solid, especially when delivering sexy banter.
Balsam won the NBR for Supporting Actor, and he’s enjoyable as the outwardly blustering, inwardly savvy mogul, but even better are Ladd (in his final film) as the tough-talking mentor who finally gets Jonas to recognize what a bastard he’s been – with the help of a brawl, of course – and Robert (Bob) Cummings* as Dan Pierce, first Nevada’s agent, later Jonas’ man in Hollywood, and at all times on his own side only. Apparently this was his first time playing a villain, but like many great changes of pace, he simply takes the wholesome good nature that served him in his other roles and lets it curdle into sleazy smarm.
There’s also Lew Ayres as the long-suffering business manager, Martha Hyer as a prostitute whom Jonas tries to mold into a movie star (and his ideal wife), Tully as Monica’s weak-willed father, boxer Archie Moore as the devoted valet, and Audrey Totter as a veteran prostitute who tries to help Jonas in his darkest moment. They all enjoy playing the scheming, sniping, suffering, and seducing characters Robbins dreamed up – or plucked from the pages of history (and tabloids).
Thats good, because there’s ultimately a lot more sizzle than steak here. Yes, the Production Code meant the depictions of sex, violence, and substance abuse would have to be fairly tame, but the film still feels quite sanitized, more concerned with characters talking about what they’re going to do, or have done, rather than doing it. The film looks reasonably lavish (although the swooping credits look like a cheap precursor to those of Superman), with fine sets and costumes, but yet again, The Aviator blows it out of the water.
The Carpetbaggers is worth it for fans of Valley of the Dolls and other examples of mid-century camp, even if (in my view) it’s got more genuine strengths and less outstanding weaknesses than that film. But you could also watch Airport, which has all the character drama plus a healthy amount of suspense.
Score: 72
*I was surprised to learn that Cummings was born and raised in Joplin, Missouri – just half an hour from where I grew up and where I attended synagogue.
Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One (2023) – ****
I came to the Mission: Impossible series only after Ghost Protocol had revitalized the series, making it a critical darling to match its popular success. I still haven’t seen that film or the first three entries, but I saw Rogue Nation in theaters and rather liked it, and went back for Fallout, which I also enjoyed – but I didn’t quite understand the sheer level of acclaim it received. The stunts were fantastic and the production values were high, but something about the story, I think, kept me from being completely swept up in the excitement.
So maybe it’s just that Dead Reckoning Part One caught me on the right day, but I think it’s the story here, which is at once more involving and feels like less of a framework for the set-pieces, which nudges into that higher level for me. I wasn’t entirely sold at first, but as the film went on, I found more reasons to praise it and fewer reasons not to praise it.
The story, as I’m sure others have noted, is especially timely, now that SAG-AFTRA has joined the WGA in a strike to protest, among other things, the threat posed to creators by AI, which is unlikely to ever match, let alone surpass the human element – but studio executives might be willing to overlook that if it means a wider profit margin. Here, we have the Entity, an AI which has apparently gone rogue and infiltrated intelligence networks around the world, making it impossible to trust the information relayed by our digital devices – and downplaying the role of magic-level technology, which I especially appreciated.
Gabriel (Esai Morales) acts as the human representative of the Entity, but he was also associated with Ethan Hunt (Tom Cruise) before Hunt joined the IMF, adding a level of personal investment this particular mission, as if the danger it poses to old friends and new doesn’t make it personal enough. The former include Luther (Ving Rhames), Benji (Simon Pegg), and Ilsa (Rebecca Ferguson); the latter includes Grace (Hayley Atwell), who was recruited simply to pick a pocket – she’s a veteran thief – and is soon plunged into the thick of the action.
The action, of course, remains the main attraction, especially when seen on a big screen with a good sound system. These include a chase and firefight in the midst of a sandstorm, a multi-pronged chase in and around the Abu Dhabi airport, juxtaposed fights in a narrow alley and on a picturesque Venetian bridge, and the lengthy climax, set aboard the Orient Express, capped with a heart-stopping attempt to outmatch gravity – well after, of course, Ethan has ridden a motorcycle off a mountain and boarded the train in typical fashion.
My own favorite set piece, however, might be the chase through Rome, with Ethan and Grace trying to evade the Italian police, American agents led by Jasper Briggs (Shea Whigham, reliably exasperated), and Paris (Pom Klementieff), Gabriel’s cheerfully vicious henchwoman. It’s all the more entertaining because it weaves in the difficulties Grace, quite unused to this kind of pursuit, has with driving a car through the city’s winding streets, and that Ethan has when, having handcuffed himself to Grace (who has a habit of slipping away), he takes the wheel – especially of a car comically out of place in such a scene.
But the film also works when it focuses on the characters and their machinations, as in the scene where black marketeer Alanna (Vanessa Kirby) holds court in a Venetian nightclub and Ethan tries to convince her just how high the stakes really are, or when Grace is told of “the choice” – the choice that Ethan, Luther, and Benji all have made, choosing the IMF over a life in prison or on the run. The uniformly solid work of the cast – Morales is especially fun as the smugly heartless Gabriel – and the polished script by director Chirstopher McQuarrie and Erik Jendresen alike deserve recogntion.
Naturally, it’s Fraser Taggart’s acrobatic cinematography, Eddie Hamilton’s sharp, taut editing (even at a hefty 163 minutes, the film doesn’t drag), the thundering sound design, and the wildly ambitious stuntwork that will receive most of the attention; on all these levels, I think the film is a hair below John Wick 4, but it compensates by having a slightly stronger story and a moderately more three-dimensional hero.
Dead Reckoning Part Two, slated to open next June, is apparently meant to be the final entry in this series; a week after it opens, Cruise will turn 62, though his agelessness has yet to be seriously compromised. It remains to be seen if Ethan will sacrifice himself or simply ride into the sunset – but if he does, it’s not hard to imagine Cruise bringing him back for an encore, especially if Harrison Ford can keep playing Indiana Jones at 80. I’ll be there if he does.
Score: 87
If You Want the Gravy... 
One Comment Add yours