News for today's 2018

Carrie: Still raising the roof

6:00 PM 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>Carrie</i> </b></span></span></span></span></span></span><b>(2013) • <a href="http://trailers.apple.com/trailers/sony_pictures/carrie/" 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>3.5 stars. Rating: R, for bloody violence, disturbing images, blasphemy, profanity and sexual content</b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><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>Originally published in <i><a href="http://www.davisenterprise.com/" style="color: #27a9c5; text-decoration: none;">The Davis Enterprise</a></i>, 10.18.13</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;">Sissy Spacek was 27 when she starred in 1976’s first stab at Stephen King’s <i>Carrie</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Although she acted the hell out of that role — pun intended — and garnered a well-deserved Oscar nomination for her efforts, she never quite looked or “felt” the part; her residual baby-fat years were a decade behind her. The actresses playing Carrie’s tormentors, all in their mid-20s, also looked too old for their parts ... but that’s how director Brian De Palma was able to get away with all the nudity in the infamous opening shower scene.<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/AVvXsEj41e-JQj2mXzmXf3l_VR2Ef51HrMa3QE12AEbrsipWEVK9h50u16U1inG3MtaiLSbPPNQVvvbbF9pGulIk78q8tSuOu-lielnSMbJ7V6fjEqqfmx_9hk26d4l_S0SdDc58NoneVHqhSUM/s1600/Carrie+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/AVvXsEj41e-JQj2mXzmXf3l_VR2Ef51HrMa3QE12AEbrsipWEVK9h50u16U1inG3MtaiLSbPPNQVvvbbF9pGulIk78q8tSuOu-lielnSMbJ7V6fjEqqfmx_9hk26d4l_S0SdDc58NoneVHqhSUM/s400/Carrie+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;">Having made a dress and tried hard to transform herself into a young woman as typical<br />as her many classmates, Carrie (Chloë Grace Moretz) nervously pauses before joining<br />the teens entering the doors that lead to the school prom. Her escort, Tommy (Ansel<br />Elgort), gently insists that everything will be fine ... but we know better.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With respect to age-appropriateness, then, Chloë Grace Moretz’s presence in director Kimberly Peirce’s fresh take on <i>Carrie</i> is a step in the right direction. Indeed, a massive step: At 16, Moretz is <i>precisely</i> right; she exudes the soft vulnerability of a repressed little girl whose horrific upbringing has further stunted her transition to womanhood. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Moretz is terrific in the role: never better than when she displays the heartbreaking flicker of trust over Carrie’s ill-advised hope that maybe, perhaps, she’s about to be accepted by her high school peers. Moretz’s deer-in-the-headlights insecurity, at such moments, wafts off her in palpable waves; we grieve for what we know is about to come.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every generation seems to demand its own version of <i>Carrie</i>, and no surprise; King really touched a nerve with this story. As an iconic character, Carrie White seems destined for more lives than a cat; aside from De Palma’s original adaptation and this new film, we’ve also experienced lesser entries in 1999 (a sequel of sorts, titled <i>The Rage: Carrie 2</i>) and 2002 (a TV movie with Angela Bettis).<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bullied gay teens may command most of the headlines these days, but there remains no shortage of tormented children of all stripes. Girls can be particularly cruel to the disenfranchised ducklings in their midst, as King knew first-hand, from his early days as an English teacher in Maine’s Hamden Public School.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If anything, the situation may be getting worse. Only a few short days ago, two Florida girls — 12 and 14 — were arrested and charged with felony aggravated stalking, following the suicide, a month earlier, of a 12-year-old classmate. The arrests were made after one of the tormentors posted the following message on Facebook last Saturday: “Yes ik [I know] I bullied REBECCA nd she killed her self but [I don’t care].”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Charming generation, this social media set.<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;">Adding the ghastly IED of social media to the combustible brew already present in King’s 1974 novel is the sole significant contribution scripter Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa makes to this new film. Otherwise, he borrows so heavily from Lawrence D. Cohen’s 1976 screenplay — verbatim exchanges of dialogue, whole scene set-ups — that I’m frankly surprised Aguirre-Sacasa felt he deserved a paycheck.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This update isn’t a slavish, shot-by-shot remake, like Gus Van Sant’s imbecilic 1998 retread of <i>Psycho</i>, but at times it’s damn close. That begs the obvious question: Why bother seeing this new film, when De Palma’s version remains readily available ... and still quite relevant, in all the significant ways?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, Moretz’s performance, for openers. Co-star Julianne Moore is equally riveting, as Carrie’s ghastly mother, Margaret. More subtly — and this will sound odd, given the material — Peirce’s artistic sensibilities are kinder and gentler; she makes a point of protectively cocooning Carrie when the story allows, granting us moments that allow the frightened, emotionally abused girl to show through the rage avatar she’s destined to become.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No surprise, since Peirce’s claim to fame is 1999’s still-extraordinary <i>Boys Don’t Cry</i>, which remains a template for deftly handling a very tough real-world subject.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Additionally — and I’ll acknowledge Aguirre-Sacasa’s input here, as well — this take on the story is more “fair,” in both directions, during the climactic third act. Carrie’s deadly delivery of “justice” isn’t quite as indiscriminate, and she’s allowed a better-defined sense of awareness and mercy.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Alternatively, I always thought that John Travolta and Nancy Allen met their well-deserved doom <i>much</i> too easily in De Palma’s version, and Peirce apparently shared my view. Things are a lot grottier this time around, and — forgive me, but it’s true — much more satisfying.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A fairly pointless prologue delivers some back-story on just how deranged Margaret White is: an unsettling scene that Moore plays with a level of creepy, persuasive authenticity that I’ve not seen since Samantha Eggar licked the blood off her own baby, in 1979’s <i>The Brood</i>. The scene’s ick factor notwithstanding, it doesn't really explain the origins of the warped maternal instinct that later prompts Margaret to raise Carrie in a repressively smothering embrace.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, flash-forward to Carrie’s senior year in high school, where she does her best to fade into the background, whether in class, in the hallways or during gym. The journey to her damnation begins when she unexpectedly experiences her first period in the gym shower, much to the giggling amusement of the other girls, egged on by the catty Chris Hargensen (Portia Doubleday). Only one girl, Sue Snell (Gabriella Wilde), recognizes this act of group cruelty and withdraws.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Gym coach Ms. Desjardin (Judy Greer) is furious; her subsequent punishment fits the crime. At the same time, she’s gentle with Carrie, striking an immediate bond and earning well-deserved trust. Greer shines in her scenes: a nice change from her usual overly broad sitcom roles.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Barry Shabaka Henley, on the other hand, is a one-note joke as the impotent Principal Morton: a badly conceived character who doesn’t belong in this film.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The defiant Chris, refusing to accept any responsibility for her heinous behavior, gets suspended and therefore barred from the upcoming prom. Her indignant fury percolates in the company of bad-actor boyfriend Billy Nolan (Alex Russell), and their scheme to “get back” at Carrie — who hardly deserves the additional abuse — is as horrific today as it was four decades ago.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Chris/Billy dynamic is different, in this update. Travolta’s Billy was a clueless moron, easily led by the sexually teasing Chris; Russell’s Billy radiates genuine danger. He’s the true menace, although Doubleday’s Chris proves a willing acolyte.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sue, her guilt mounting, seeks a way to atone for her sin; she therefore asks boyfriend Tommy Ross (Ansel Elgort) to take Carrie to the prom. The idea is to give Carrie a means to regain her pride, but of course we know — as does Ms. Desjardin — that public targets are easier to hit. Tommy nonetheless goes along with this scheme, and Elgort plays him as genuinely kind and sympathetic: a truly good guy.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And, so, the players are assembled, awaiting events to come.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Moore is thoroughly chilling as the fanatically devout Margaret: a woman who has twisted scripture to her own distorted ends. Aguirre-Sacasa adds self-mutilation to Margaret’s kinks; she’s a reflexive cutter, which gets quite gruesome. Mostly, though, Margaret’s faux-pious rants are the stuff of nightmares, and Moore delivers them with Pentecostal passion.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Moretz shades her performance in a few interesting directions, the most significant of which is Carrie’s curiosity about her emerging telekinetic abilities: a talent clearly linked to her clumsy ascent to puberty. Moretz conveys a level of intelligent awareness that Spacek never quite caught (or De Palms wasn’t interested in exploiting).<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But this, ultimately, typifies the major flaw in Peirce’s handling of this film. King’s novel has the sinister atmosphere of a parable that isn’t necessarily intended to represent reality; it’s a morality play that builds to a Grand Guignol climax with Old Testament-style justice. De Palma understood that, and his film has an atmosphere of slightly trashy exploitation, and is populated by exaggerated archetypes, rather than authentic characters.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">De Palma also wanted to scare the willies out of us, which he absolutely did with his infamous final scene.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By trying to set these events more firmly in our actual world, and by turning Carrie more firmly into an abused girl next door, Peirce works against the tone that powers the core story. The result is more sad than scary, which may have been Peirce’s intent, but it’s also less satisfying.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This new <i>Carrie</i> may be more faithful to King’s novel — particularly with respect to Sue’s fate — but it’s less artistically successful. And that, given the powerhouse performances from Moretz and Moore, is a true shame.</span></span>

Carrie (2013) • View trailer 3.5 stars. Rating: R, for bloody violence, disturbing images, blasphemy, profanity and sexual content By ...

Don Jon: Love's labors lost

1:00 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>Don Jon</i> </b></span></span></span></span></span></span><b>(2013) • <a href="http://trailers.apple.com/trailers/independent/donjon/" 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 strong graphic sexual material and dialogue, nudity, profanity and drug use</b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><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;">Fledgling writers have a tendency toward overkill, a problem that repeatedly plagues this film.<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/AVvXsEh_SKNq2WIT6xG4jOg15jXq-F5twtrhAMWYn-q92QD2s7zIvMRPGePXGO9osQJ3sbWpS0Ill-aWafMwB__0-e9pO__cit2fHtRd0IkwkvZ5QYPad8D_ElIJkpskEvGWdUr0gARul_pwcu8/s1600/Don+Jon+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_SKNq2WIT6xG4jOg15jXq-F5twtrhAMWYn-q92QD2s7zIvMRPGePXGO9osQJ3sbWpS0Ill-aWafMwB__0-e9pO__cit2fHtRd0IkwkvZ5QYPad8D_ElIJkpskEvGWdUr0gARul_pwcu8/s400/Don+Jon+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;">When Barbara (Scarlett Johansson, standing center) insists on meeting her new lover's<br />friends, Jon (Joseph Gordeon-Levitt, standing center) obliges by arranging a gathering<br />at a local club. Barbara, obviously pleased, is all sweetness and smiles ... but, in truth,<br />this is merely the latest in what will become a string of one-sided little victories.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Although dissecting the nature of True Love has been a laudable quest since stories were told via cave paintings, Joseph Gordon-Levitt — making his debut here as a big-screen writer <i>and</i> director — wields a meat cleaver when a scalpel would have sufficed. He has a solid sense of what’s funny, and a good ear for relationship dynamics, but his hammer-handed approach is guaranteed to alienate the very people likely to be most touched by this story’s core moral, and its outcome.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He also falls into another common trap. Repetition rarely enhances a lesson; we merely get bored. Or, in this case, disgusted.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In this particular case, it simply isn’t necessary to share what his porn-addicted character views during every spare moment; we don’t need to watch <i>with</i>him. The first montage of taut breasts, erect nipples, firm butts and willing mouths is sufficient; from that point forward, we <i>know</i> what he’s watching every time he sits in front of his laptop screen.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Indeed, all we need is the familiar F-sharp-major start-up chime, which Gordon-Levitt unerringly employs for maximum comic effect ... but then he ruins the moment, each time, with yet another tiresome display of thrusting bodies and naughty bits.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And vulgar off-camera commentary. Gordon-Levitt also beats <i>that</i>affectation to death.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The story, then:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jon Martello Jr. (Gordon-Levitt) is a blue-collar New Jersey late twenty-/early thirtysomething bartender who takes enormous pride in his apartment, his car, his appearance and his ability to score with the ladies. Thanks to this latter talent, guy pals Bobby and Danny (Rob Brown and Jeremy Luke) have nicknamed him “Don Jon.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Trouble is, Jon doesn’t enjoy women for their companionship or relationship potential; he objectifies them to the extreme and is interested in sex strictly for its own sake. But that isn’t satisfying; he can’t “lose himself” in lovemaking with a flesh-and-blood female partner, the way he experiences a brief “happy zone” with the assistance of an ideal Internet porn clip.<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;">On a deeply submerged level, Jon vaguely realizes that something is wrong with his approach, and with his choices, but he’s too content with the status quo to probe. And so he cheerfully follows this long-established routine, expiating any guilt while dutifully attending church each Sunday morning, cataloguing his list of sins and accepting a penance of Hail Marys and Our Fathers (a cute running gag).<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then it’s Sunday lunch with his tempestuous family: boorish, loud-mouthed father Jon Sr. (Tony Danza), who insists on watching football during the meal; forever frazzled mother Angela (Glenne Headly), who’s “ready to be a grandmother” and wishes her only son would settle down with a nice girl; and bored younger sister Monica (Brie Larson), who rolls her eyes a lot, never says a word, and texts during the shouting that invariably punctuates this weekly ritual.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Monica’s silence, an even funnier running gag, eventually builds to an unexpectedly hilarious — and insightful — payoff: further proof that Gordon-Levitt has solid comedy instincts, if he’d simply get out of his own way.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The dynamic shifts during a typical evening of club trolling, when Jon spots “a perfect dime (10)” loitering near the bar: That would be Barbara Sugerman, played to husky, erotic perfection by Scarlett Johansson. Although just as earthy and crude as Jon — an apparent Jersey girl archetype in this post-Snooki universe — Barbara isn’t “easy,” as she makes abundantly clear by refusing to go home with him that first night.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Intrigued, Jon does some quick research, comes up with her name and Facebook page, and figures out how to wheedle a lunch date. Similarly intrigued — or perhaps only amused — she accepts. They begin a relationship; Jon finds that he can’t get Barbara off his mind. But her refusal to hit the sack does nothing to curb his laptop activities.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the same time, Barbara has an odd way of expressing her faux chasteness, since she soon teases Jon with a level of physical contact that builds the poor guy into helpless sexual tension. One hallway encounter, outside her apartment, deserves placement in the list of all-time Sexiest Moments While Fully Clothed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It appears, at first blush, that Barbara is using the only weapon at her disposal to “reform” Jon: to make him a better, kinder, more thoughtful person. Goodness knows, he could use some work. And so she insists on meeting his family and friends, and taking him to meet her family: the sort of stuff that couples do, when they’re starting to think long-term.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But it becomes apparent that Barbara is neither altruistic nor benign, and we start to wonder: At what point do attempted refinement and the elimination of bad habits morph into an unhealthy character makeover?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jon couldn’t answer such questions, not being adept at self-analysis (yet). But he understands that this relationship is off-kilter, somehow, because he still can’t shake the porn habit ... not even when Barbara finally consents to become his full-time bedmate.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Faint glimmers of perspective arrive with Esther (Julianne Moore), a fellow student — an “older woman” — also taking the night class that Barbara has insisted Jon enroll in. (The subject remains unspecified; we only know that it looks and sounds as dry as chalk dust.) Esther, wise in the way of maturity, also is candid to a fault: a trait that Jon initially finds disconcerting, even alienating. But Esther isn’t destined to be a chance encounter, and therein lies this story’s third — and most satisfying — act.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Moore lights up the screen the same way her character invigorates this film. Esther is bright, perky and shrewdly astute; she sizes up Jon with sharp observational skills that Sherlock Holmes would admire. At the same time, Esther is damaged goods herself; we see pain lingering at the edges of Moore’s eyes, and in the subtle slump of her body.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Esther is, in short, a truly genuine person: quite a shock, in a film otherwise littered with stereotypes and shallow, two-dimensional stick-figure characters.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Whether she’s enough to rescue this otherwise clumsy rom-com will depend on the viewer’s tolerance for smut. Needless to say, this is not a film for the easily offended; the R-rating is well deserved.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Gordon-Levitt certainly has a handle on his portrayal of Jon, and (as director) he deftly plays with us throughout this story: Is Jon a sympathetic character, deserving of growth or redemption, or is he simply a shallow lout? He’s certainly not mean-spirited <i>per se</i>, merely self-absorbed. And, let’s face it, the apple clearly didn’t fall far from the tree, given his father’s behavior.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In terms of the story’s comedy elements, Gordon-Levitt knows precisely how to use his wicked sidelong glances and near-smiles of amused suspicion. Given the available evidence here, there’s no question that he can act and direct; I’m less persuaded of his writing skills.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And yet he scores some insightful social commentary, as when Jon points out that we all wallow in habitual behavior; his just happens to be socially unacceptable. Barbara is hooked on maudlin romantic melodramas, and who’s to say her taste is any better or worse than his? (One of these big-screen weepers, skewered for maximum hilarity, stars an unbilled Anne Hathaway and Channing Tatum.)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Johansson has a wickedly good time as the overtly sensual Barbara, who drips lust while cooing with obviously false innocence; she incessantly calls Jon “Baby,” which — right there — should be enough to make any wary man head for the hills. At first, Johansson cleverly allows only the slightest glimpses of Barbara’s actual personality; her very bearing then shifts once this spider feels she has her fly sufficiently trapped.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Danza and Headly are overplayed burlesques, the family meals having no more relation to reality than Jackie Gleason’s scenery-chewing outbursts more than half a century ago, on TV’s <i>The Honeymooners</i>. Luke and Brown, similarly, remain under-developed as Danny and Bobby ... although Brown tries mightily to layer some depth into his performance. The script simply doesn’t give him enough to work with.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The poster publicizing <i>Don Jon</i> highlights wildly enthusiastic, single-word pull-quotes from various reviews: stellar, hilarious, genuine, emotional, edgy, confident. I’ll give it edgy and hilarious (the latter only at times), but the rest are wishful thinking. Yes, this is an interesting first effort from an actor turned writer/director, and Gordon-Levitt certainly bears watching, should he pursue a broader career as a hyphenate.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But that doesn’t change the fact that <i>Don Jon</i> is uneven, frequently clumsy and needlessly offensive. Proceed with caution.</span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>