The MacGuffin

When I heard the premise for the film Real Steel (2011), I thought it was a joke. A live action movie, based around the concept of Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots, where humans control machines to beat and pound one another? The very thought of it was difficult to comprehend. But here it is, fully realized, directed by Shawn Levy, who also made Cheaper by the Dozen (2003), The Pink Panther (2006), and the Night at the Museum films, and starring Hugh Jackman. Even after walking out of the movie, I was still a little dumbstruck by the absurdity of it. Can we root for a machine that has no personality, no characteristics, and is rendered out of computer-generated imagery? Can we take actors seriously while they’re performing as if they were playing a video game, complete with a controller and microphone headset?

Director Mark Landsman’s Thunder Soul (2010) is the kind of movie that sinks under your skin. You’ve seen the story before: a determined teacher looking to make the most out of his pupils, and a group of students who would have been lost without his guidance. I had this in mind, and walked in thinking that I knew what I was getting myself into. And then, something interesting happened. The film revealed itself to be much more absorbing, richer, and more fulfilling than other musical documentaries of its kind. It presented a colorful group of people, all of whom became the best at what they do: playing music. And even more incredible was that they were at the top of their field while still in high school. It’s a celebration of one man’s efforts to bring his students together through music, and present that celebration to a new generation.

Abe is so conservative he believes his wife’s infertility is a sign from God—they should not have sex. Ever.

Despite the self-enforced “No Sex” law, Abe (John Diehl) still feels compelled to procreate—just maybe not exactly the way God intended. For 25 years, Abe has been fulfilling his need to carry on the human species by making regular deposits at the local sperm bank.

In all my life, I have never once asked anyone what their “number” is. This information falls under multiple categories that keep me from asking it, including: “None of My Business,” “Not Something To Judge Anyone By,” and “Honestly, Who Cares?” Beyond the unfortunate period of teenage years when it’s inevitable one will wonder whether all of their classmates’ numbers are zero or not-zero, I find it odd that anyone puts any degree of thought into this particular statistic.

Giving. How much do we give to others? To what extent can we sacrifice to help people who are suffering? As Americans, what can we do for one another and for others around the world? And how blinded are we to suffering? These, as well as other moral quagmires, are explored in the new film Machine Gun Preacher.

The humor of The Guard is with its characters and strong script, making it a memorable comedy in a summer of the average slapstick. In a small Irish town, Sergeant Gerry Boyle (Brendan Gleeson) works as a guard, a local police officer and somewhat unconventional cop, to put it mildly. He has admitted to taking drugs and values his own time off over the job. This is exasperating for FBI agent Wendell Everett (Don Cheadle). Everett is the straight man to Boyle and the entire Irish cast. He is there to investigate a drug smuggling ring which includes the cranky British mobster Clive Cornell (Mark Strong) and is supposed to be making a deal happen somewhere on the Irish coast.

Moneyball (2011) is a sports film…well…not really. Yes, it’s based around baseball, but it’s not necessarily about the sport itself. It’s more about what goes on behind the scenes: what happens behind closed doors amongst the people who decide which players will go out and play on the field. We see the wheeling and dealing of the upper management, between the owners, general managers, and coaches, and how they work (or don’t work) together to create a winning ball club. Centered on the Oakland Athletics during the summer of 2002, the film deals with a manager who, with the loss of some key players and with very little money to work with, has to come up with a new scheme to save the team and his own job. It’s an underdog story, but told through a different perspective.

I asked the kids who sat behind me (they looked to be about 5, 9, and 14) how they liked Dolphin Tale, a new family film directed by Charles Martin Smith, and they all really enjoyed it. Even before I asked them anything, they were talking about how great it was. So, if you like cute marine animals, kids who do things rather than sit on things, and positive messages about involving yourself in the greater world and what it means to be whole, then you and your family might enjoy this movie. I did not. The first two-thirds of the film were okay, if somewhat uneven, but the last third of the movie was so preposterous it was offensive. I honestly believe that a Scooby Doo villain-removing-his-mask ending would have been more believable and more honest than what happens here. I would love to explain in detail about how stupid the end of this movie is, but I don’t want to spoil the movie for the people who are going to go see it. And therein lies my conflict: I thought this film was crap, but your kids could be seeing stuff with way worse messages. What is more important in a family film: the messages it teaches or the quality of the movie? Are movies art or teaching tools? Should the same standards of quality apply to kids’ films? Should we punish poor filmmaking the same as crass commercialism? (I know we don’t really punish anyone for that; it’s wishful thinking.) I don’t know.

In creating the mood for the film Drive, Ryan Gosling shows his character’s driving skills early, as well as the calm of his character in intense situations, his fast thinking and movements of the vehicle, and how he handles problems that arrive—knowing that the audience will be waiting for scenes of intense driving (so much like Milk did in getting the gay sex scene out of the way.) After showcasing Gosling’s skills, the story starts in earnest. Gosling, known simply as Driver, is a stoic, silent type, works as a mechanic and stunt man, and also moonlights as a driver for criminals. No history or motivation is given into why he does this work. He is who he is, that is how he presents himself and it stays constant.

When I was a small-town punk rocker back in the early ’80’, I spent most of my time getting harassed by some dude in a cowboy hat or listening to music. (Which is probably true for most teens, minus the redneck bullying.) One of the ways a kid in my situation found new music was by watching Night Flight Friday and Saturday nights on the USA network. I can’t really say that Night Flight was the most awesome thing that has ever been on television, but at the time it certainly felt like it. The show brought together punk and new wave videos, cult movies, a redubbed Japanese action series (Dynaman), and the Church of the Sub-Genius. One of the movies they occasionally played was Breaking Glass (1980), and I tried desperately to see this movie. I would stay up late to watch it, or I would record it on VHS to watch later, but somehow my dad would thwart me every time. I honestly don’t think he did it on purpose, but he would record over my tape, or decide he wanted to watch football, or arbitrarily enforce a bedtime for me. It was frustrating as hell, and I never got to see the movie. I had forgotten about it until it popped up recently as a Netflix recommendation. I finally had a chance to watch it without worrying that someone else would want to watch a disease-of-the-week movie instead.