News for today's 2018

The Family: Dysfunction reigns

10:27 AM Tukiyooo 0

<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><b><i>The Family</i> </b></span></span></span></span></span></span><b>(2013) • <a href="http://trailers.apple.com/trailers/independent/thefamily/" style="color: #27a9c5; text-decoration: none;">View trailer</a></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><b> </b><br /><b>Three stars. Rating: R, for violence, considerable profanity and brief drug use</b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b>By <a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/12885694730612878577" style="color: #27a9c5; text-decoration: none;">Derrick Bang</a></b></span></b></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>            <br /><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Comedy is hard. Dark comedy is much harder.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg15vuc5pohZizfzTLLL2z7YC4B59eKuaEzOcIKnsZe9o4eYcKhSiez4FTJ92F_rSCXkMWVwcpCdQELtXVardJdF0P5Mo-F-XSggrxYUOk3S2Ffeac_F858h2OJ-KAehwt1b5ER1EhfWU4/s1600/The+Family+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg15vuc5pohZizfzTLLL2z7YC4B59eKuaEzOcIKnsZe9o4eYcKhSiez4FTJ92F_rSCXkMWVwcpCdQELtXVardJdF0P5Mo-F-XSggrxYUOk3S2Ffeac_F858h2OJ-KAehwt1b5ER1EhfWU4/s400/The+Family+blog.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Giovanni (Robert De Niro) and Maggie (Michelle Pfeiffer, back to ccamera) naturally wish<br />to know how their children fared, during their first day at a new French school. Warren<br />(John D'Leo) and Belle (Dianna Agron) downplay their activities, unwilling to admit that<br />their larcenous instincts — a family quality — will allow them to <i>own</i> the school by the<br />end of the week.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In theory, this film is the droll saga of a Mafia family trying to maintain the low profile demanded of the Witness Protection Program, while too easily sliding into former bad (i.e. violent) habits, much to the ongoing consternation of their FBI handler. That’s a premise with considerable comedic potential, particularly when the handler is played by Tommy Lee Jones at his morose, long-suffering best.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And things would have been fine, had our protagonists confined their lethal behavior to the various goombahs trying to find and whack them, and if said goombahs had limited <i>their</i> nasty tendencies toward each other.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But far too many innocent bystanders get killed along the way, sometimes quite unpleasantly. It’s rather hard to chuckle when another inquisitive neighbor gets shot between the eyes. That simply isn’t funny, and it, ah, kills the mood. Repeatedly.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The trouble is, veteran French action director Luc Besson doesn’t seem to know what kind of movie to make this time; his script — co-written with Michael Caleo, from Tonino Benacquista’s comedic novel <i>Malavita</i> — keeps sliding back and forth between the grim “straight” drama of <i>La Femme Nikita</i> or <i>The Professional</i>, and the far lighter, satiric tone of <i>The Fifth Element</i>. These styles are mutually incompatible, and the result is rather a mess.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Caleo, I note, co-wrote one episode of TV’s <i>The Sopranos</i> with that show’s creator, David Chase. That may have been the serio-comic mood Besson hoped to achieve, since Chase masterfully blended sarcastic humor with heinous violence in his groundbreaking show. And, at times, Besson and Caleo almost get there ... but then they spoil it with another dollop of brutal behavior.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Giovanni Manzoni (Robert De Niro) and his family have spent years on the run, at various locations in the States and now France, due to the persistence of mob bosses infuriated by his having ratted them out. Giovanni’s wife, Maggie (Michelle Pfeiffer), has grown accustomed to packing and unpacking; teenagers Belle (Dianna Agron) and Warren (John D’Leo) have resigned themselves to the constant uprooting faced by military kids.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now, newly ensconced in a sleepy French village in the Normandy countryside, saddled with the fresh identity of “Fred Blake,” Giovanni attempts, once again, to blend. On impulse, he greets neighbors by claiming to be a writer of history; trouble is, the locals know far more about his fabricated topic — the D-Day invasion — than he does.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">FBI handler Robert Stansfield (Jones) isn’t amused; that’s precisely the sort of sloppy thinking that could get “Fred” exposed as ... well, as somebody other than who he claims to be.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><a name='more'></a><br /><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maggie attempts to maneuver through a nearby market with her limited French, earning nothing but snooty contempt from a shopkeeper who sneers at her desire for peanut butter, and then disses all “arrogant Americans” to the general agreement of a few locals. With a grim smile that Pfeiffer delivers with elegant grace, Maggie arranges for a small propane canister to come into contact with lighter fluid and a match, and casually exits the establishment before its contents erupt through the plate glass windows.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now, <i>that’s</i> funny, particularly since Besson clearly plays on the long-established American belief that the French are arrogant snots. No flying limbs, just mangled groceries. We can imagine the store’s inhabitants somehow escaped with minor injury.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Elsewhere, Belle and Warren warily navigate their first day at this new school with the precision of a veteran “dirty tricks” squad. Initially feigning innocence (Belle) and vulnerability (Warren) in order to suss out the various social cliques and pecking orders, within days they’re clandestinely calling the shots.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This, too, is wonderfully amusing, particularly when Belle unexpectedly goes postal on a gaggle of hormonally charged boys who imagined she would be easy pickings. Warren, as well, methodically demonstrates “fixer” skills that evoke pleasant memories of master larcenists in caper thrillers such as <i>Ocean’s Eleven</i>. D’Leo evokes the sort of clinical maturity that we’d expect from a kid forced to grow up quickly.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Meanwhile, Giovanni — ah, no, <i>Fred</i> — finds his limited (<i>very</i> limited) patience tried by a local plumber who arrives late and then cheerfully tries to take advantage of the situation, assuming that <i>all</i>Americans are loaded with money and therefore ripe for the plucking.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sounds perfect, right? And it would be, except that, back in the States, a mob assassin (Jon Freda, appropriately scary as Rocco) is following leads and murdering likely families — husband, wife, teenage son and daughter — in the hope they <i>might</i> be the Manzoni clan. Identification is checked by sending severed fingers to the local Mafia don, who has lost none of his juice, despite being in a federal prison.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Watching Rocco murder children — more than once — rather destroys the attempt at light-heartedness, even if the executions are fairly bloodless and (mostly) take place off-camera. It soon becomes clear that, with the possible exception of our main characters, <i>nobody</i> else is likely to survive the carnage that we can predict will consume the third act.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rest assured — this being a Luc Besson movie — a bazooka will be involved.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The jarring tonal shift notwithstanding, Besson and Caleo also squander some of their script’s can’t-miss plot elements. The dynamic between De Niro and Jones is rich with potential, the wheedling, easily irritated Giovanni constantly getting under Stansfield’s last nerve. But despite his co-star billing, Jones isn’t in much of this film; it looks as though he spent perhaps two days on the set, and did a few quick scenes before beetling back to some other project.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Heck, the family dog gets more screen time than Jones. Great part for a canine, I might add.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Giovanni’s decision to write his memoirs — on a lovingly preserved manual typewriter — is another plot element that doesn’t really accomplish anything, except perhaps to fill time as De Niro carefully places paper in roller and attacks the keyboard with two-fingered precision. Granted, Giovanni needs <i>something</i>with which to fill his time, and the possibility of dire revelations eventually sparks a droll exchange with Stansfield ... but the whole writing thing just sorta drifts off.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A few sidebar developments are handled more successfully. Maggie has developed a fondness for the two FBI “babysitters” — Caputo (Domenick Lombardozzi) and Di Cicco (Jimmy Palumbo) — who’ve apparently followed the family from one location to the next. Their delight over Maggie’s authentic Italian cooking becomes a droll running gag.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Agron, well recognized as Quinn Fabray on television’s <i>Glee</i>, is allowed the greatest character range; aside from her amusing skills as a schoolyard enforcer, Belle also succumbs to every girl’s fantasy when living in France: to fall in love. Her target: a hunky substitute math teacher. Agron navigates her character’s two extremes with panache; it’s fun to watch Belle be swoony one moment, and then, in the next, beat on a loutish boy with a tennis racket.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She also shares a touching moment with De Niro, when Giovanni laments the mess that he has made of his life, and the hardship his family has endured as a result; Belle, firmly devoted to her father, insists that he is, nonetheless, the best dad in the world. Given the circumstances, that’s a tricky sentiment to sell, but Agron nails it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pfeiffer is equally memorable, her Maggie spitting fire with every spoken word ... or, alternatively, taking solace in a doobie while wondering, with the stricken concern of an exhausted mother tiger, just what is to become of them. Unlike many of the other actors in this uneasy farce, Pfeiffer knows <i>precisely</i>how to play each scene, having navigated similar waters for director Jonathan Demme back in 1988, with <i>Married to the Mob</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">De Niro, happily, does <i>not</i> overact, as he has done too frequently in recent years. He treats this role fairly seriously, which adds comic weight to the moments when poor Giovanni loses his temper yet again.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The film certainly looks good; production designer Hugues Tissandier makes the most of the sleepy village setting, and the gated little chalet in which our family has been sheltered. Thierry Arbogast’s cinematography is similarly warm and inviting. Besson and editor Julien Rey orchestrate these events fairly calmly, eschewing rat-a-tat pacing in favor of longer, slower scenes that reflect the drowsy countryside setting, while also allowing the cast some richer character moments. (That said, this film feels a bit <i>too</i> slow, at 110 minutes.)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Evgueni and Sacha Galperine deliver a robust score that lends comic punch to the story’s lighter moments.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Despite its many enjoyable elements, though, <i>The Family</i> can’t shake the mean-spirited interludes that completely overwhelm it. Even the climax leaves us with a bitter taste, likely not the mood Besson intended us to have, upon departing the theater.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Too bad, because this could — should — have been much better.</span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>

The Family (2013) • View trailer Three stars. Rating: R, for violence, considerable profanity and brief drug use By Derrick Bang ...

This Is the End: Out with a whimper

8:54 AM Tukiyooo 0

<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #5e5e5e; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #5e5e5e; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #5e5e5e; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #5e5e5e; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #5e5e5e; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><b><i>This Is the End</i> </b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #5e5e5e; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><b>(2013) • <a href="http://trailers.apple.com/trailers/sony_pictures/thisistheend/" style="color: #27a9c5; text-decoration: none;">View trailer</a></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #5e5e5e; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #5e5e5e; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #5e5e5e; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #5e5e5e; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><b> </b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #5e5e5e; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #5e5e5e; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><b>Two stars. Rating: R, and quite generously, for pervasive profanity and drug use, violence, gore, relentless crude and sexual content, and impressively graphic nudity (not all of it human)</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #5e5e5e; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #5e5e5e; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b>By <a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/12885694730612878577" style="color: #27a9c5; text-decoration: none;">Derrick Bang</a></b></span></b></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>            <br /><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The devoutly religious are certain to disagree, but this tiresome vanity production is too stupid to be blasphemous.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtwvrhKvSHVxNU9tbgVW90Vcob0wT3Wqn2i_asP_mqne0L7uHqxd4oZiAOmzyV6It0vDTOPF6RxqzOvR1ZP0lYecqP9fPu8ct_gWvG9GKYmqIRPLfdMTl1N0ip1wVn0q-y8-eFQF6sKpc/s1600/This+Is+the+End+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtwvrhKvSHVxNU9tbgVW90Vcob0wT3Wqn2i_asP_mqne0L7uHqxd4oZiAOmzyV6It0vDTOPF6RxqzOvR1ZP0lYecqP9fPu8ct_gWvG9GKYmqIRPLfdMTl1N0ip1wVn0q-y8-eFQF6sKpc/s400/This+Is+the+End+blog.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">After Emma Watson re-thinks her ill-advised decision to place her safety in the hands of<br />half a dozen self-centered horn dogs, she mounts an escape with the help of a handy<br />axe. Unfortunately, this may be a classic case of leaping from the frying pan and<br />directly into the fire...</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s relentlessly vulgar, however, in the arrested adolescent manner that we’ve come to expect when Seth Rogen, James Franco and their homies assemble for “something fun.” In this case, the “fun” comes from playing themselves — no stretch there, since most have been doing that all along — and behaving badly when God proves that the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Book of Revelations</i> wasn’t mere biblical filler.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Like so many of today’s limp-noodle, man-boy comedies, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This Is the End</i> stretches a mildly amusing concept far beyond the average viewer’s patience. Actually, we know this to be true, since this film is “expanded” from a 9-minute 2007 short titled <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jay and Seth Versus the Apocalypse</i>. Honestly, beefing up the cast and adding another 98 minutes (!) did nothing to improve the material.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Although Rogen and Evan Goldberg uncork an impressively apocalyptic third act — they collaboratively wrote and directed this case study in wasted celluloid — one must wade through nearly an hour of tedious, contrived and self-indulgent “banter” in order to get there.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Riffing the stoner culture may have been novel and slightly daring when Cheech & Chong made <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Up in Smoke</i> way back in 1978, but I’d like to think film comedy has progressed a bit since then. Rogen and Goldberg apparently didn’t get that message, since they clearly believe that merely showing a baggie of weed is enough to prompt a belly laugh.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By the same toke(n), it’s time to declare a moratorium on the faux homoeroticism that seems to pass for “cool” among some of today’s Hollywood types. When Rogen and his fellow “reality stars” aren’t chortling over how blasted they’ve gotten, they trade barbed comments apparently intended to demonstrate their hip, quasi-gayness, while nonetheless retreating to safer hetero territory whenever the tone threatens to become emasculating.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Safer territory,” in turn, emerges in strained one-liners that make sport of bodily functions: the sort of lowest-common-denominator crudeness that once remained the province of little boys trading bad words behind the woodshed, but now has become something of a badge of pride among today’s lazy comedy writers. It’s apparently shorthand for rugged manhood.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This overworked 21st century cliché hits low ebb here during an ejaculation exchange — merely verbal, I’m happy to report — between James Franco and Danny McBride, which goes on and on and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">on</i> and on. Constant Companion and I exchanged glances, and the unspoken message was obvious: Seriously? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This</i> is what film comedy has descended to?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><a name='more'></a><br /><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Actually, this film is quite obsessed with the anatomical male member that still remains mostly taboo in mainstream cinema, although Rogen and Goldberg stretch that envelope quite impressively, from limp dick jokes to the massively erect phallus sported by a particularly nasty demon with nothing good in mind.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hey, I guess if you can sucker a major studio into parting with $30 million in order to film little more than an extended party with your best friends, that’s a pretty good gig. Too bad they had to share it with the rest of us.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In fairness, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This Is the End</i> does manage a few half-hearted stabs at social commentary, as during the opening scene, when Rogen — playing himself, as everybody does here — tries to dodge an intrusive fan with a videocam, who hovers in the hopes of provoking some sort of reaction. That’s life in our world of fame for its own sake, thanks to reality TV “stars” run amok.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It could be said, of course, that this entire film riffs that concept, but I can’t grant much credit for overstating the obvious for 107 minutes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyway, Rogen’s at the Los Angeles Airport to collect good buddy Jay Baruchel, a Canadian colleague from back in the day, when both were stars of the under-appreciated 2001 TV series <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Undeclared</i>. That longstanding bond sets up some “tension” in this limp-noodle script, because Rogen’s “new friends” — Franco, Craig Robinson and Jonah Hill — keep insisting that Baruchel is a drag on Rogen’s blossoming Hollywood career.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Which is why Hill doesn’t really “like” Baruchel, while outwardly feigning bonhomie. Such trite, superficial behavior is all this film offers in the way of actual characterization, so don’t set your expectations high.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After a debauched day of weed, alcohol, video games and other wild ’n’ crazy hijinks, Rogen hauls a reluctant Baruchel to a massive party at Franco’s upscale, fortress-like mansion. (That latter quality will prove useful.) It’s quite the happening, with a guest list that includes Emma Watson, Michael Cera, Mindy Kaling, Christopher Mintz-Plasse and even Rihanna.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But it isn’t Baruchel’s bag; he’s not entirely comfortable in this hedonistic scene. (Actually, Cera is the only party guest being truly hedonistic, in an offensively condescending and arrogant manner.) Rosen agreeably joins Baruchel on a trip to the local convenience store, for some cigarettes, at which point All Hell Breaks Loose.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Quite literally.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Baruchel immediately recognizes the significance of the brilliant blue lights that transport numerous folks heavenward, a detail lost on Rogen. They hustle back to Franco’s place, dodging driverless vehicles, spontaneous sink-holes and gouts of fire, only to discover the party proceeding without incident, nobody inside having noticed anything amiss.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Okay, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> moment delivers a well-deserved laugh.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But the interior calm doesn’t last long, thanks to foundation-shaking earthquakes and the smoke-laden debris that rains down as the entire Hollywood hillside bursts into flame. Amid mindless panic and a huge express sinkhole to Hell that opens in Franco’s front yard, our cast dwindles to a precious few: Rogen, Baruchel, Franco, Hill and Robinson.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Signaling a Monty Python-esque approach to unexpected gore, one of the other party guests perishes in a dramatically gruesome — albeit fully deserved — manner. Accompanied by, yes, a darkly amusing smart phone joke.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That’s the truly frustrating part about this film: Rogen, Goldberg <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">et al</i>do indeed demonstrate an occasional talent for genuine humor. They simply don’t do it often enough.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hunkering down in the manner of survivors they’ve watched in end-of-the-world movies and TV shows, our heroes carefully ration their supplies and settle in for ... they know not what. Tension arrives when McBride joins the gang, having slept through the initial horror but now brought up to speed with a fresh burst of über-violence. Trouble is, nobody likes McBride, whose intimidating, alpha-male attitude interferes with the group’s half-hearted efforts to embrace the bigger picture.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Baruchel also disrupts the uneasy group dynamic, although not intentionally, by citing biblical passages to support his view of what’s actually happening. Nobody wants to hear that stuff, preferring to believe that “rescue” eventually will arrive.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The bulk of the film then settles into variations on a theme of what Hollywood morons would do, if faced with the apocalypse. Naturally, their efforts to get by, from one day to the next, involve their limited comfort zone. Trouble is, that sort of self-indulgent “what the hell” resignation works as a blackly humorous joke only for a few seconds, as Joss Whedon and Drew Goddard understood when they had Kristen Connolly and Fran Kranz exchange a fatalistic look while lighting a final joint in the penultimate scene of 2011’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://derrickbang.blogspot.com/2012/04/cabin-in-woods-ghoulish-and-giddy.html">The Cabin in the Woods</a></i>.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Trying to milk such a moment over an entire act merely prompts tedious scenes where Rogen, Franco and the others improvise banal dialogue while trying to kill time (if not each other). Oh, sure, we get some homages to the likes of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Mist</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Exorcist</i> and cannibal-culture horror flicks — the latter including a hilariously surprising cameo — but the material is thin, the parodies clumsily forced.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Visual effects supervisor Paul Linden and the resourceful team at Modus in Montreal deserve considerable credit for their monster-making; they uncork some truly frightening demons, and a few scenes involving these nasties are well-paced and quite suspenseful. That’s actually one of this film’s few genuine treats: Linden and his crew get <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">very</i> impressive results from all their apocalyptic mayhem, on a meager effects budget of $3 million.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the end of the day, though, <i>This Is the End</i> is little more than an insufferably long-winded inside joke. Rogen and Goldberg really should have paid more attention to <i>Cabin in the Woods</i>, <i>Shaun of the Dead</i>, <i>Zombieland</i> and other far more successful blends of self-referential horror humor. This self-indulgently masturbatory twist on “Hey, kids, let’s put on a show!” is nothing but an insult to patrons who worked hard for the money wasted on a ticket purchase.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>