I have a mixed track record when it comes to movies starring Matthew
McConaughey. Sometimes he’s great, as in his spirited turn as a coach
who helps revive a tragedy-struck college football team in We Are Marshall. Sometimes, he makes me cringe, as I’m doing right now as I recall his role as a womanizing sleazebag in the lamentable Ghosts of Girlfriends Past. I feared that I might be veering closer to the latter with 2006’s Failure to Launch, but I decided to give the romantic comedy a try anyway.
Tripp
(McConaughey) is a bit of a womanizer too, but at least he sticks to
one girl at a time. The commitment-shy boat salesman feels like he’s got
it made. Sweep the ladies off their feet, have a little fun with them,
invite them home for some hanky-panky… and let them find out that his
gorgeous residence actually belongs to his parents. Yes, he’s 35 and
still living at home, and his dates all consider that a major turn-off –
especially when Mom (Kathy Bates) or Dad (Terry Bradshaw) could poke a
head in his bedroom at a most inopportune time. He seems quite content
with this living arrangement, but his parents aren’t. They’re ready to
be empty nesters. So they call in Paula (Sarah Jessica Parker) to help
their little fledgling fly the coop.
Paula has built a lucrative
career out of getting men like Tripp to fall for her, which motivates
them to get on their feet and become independent. She’s got it down to a
science, and Tripp is putty in her hands. Their courtship is going so
well that she expects to have him out of his house in no time. The only
catch? Tripp is not the only one falling in love. Paula has prided
herself on her ability to maintain emotional distance; could Tripp’s
surprising hold on her ruin his parents’ plan and her career? Will two
hearts be broken before all is said and done?
I found the
movie’s premise interesting. For a number of reasons, adult children
living with their parents is increasingly common in America. There’s
almost a presupposition here that no woman in her right mind would ever
knowingly date a guy in such a situation, which seems to be overstating
things a little. Then again, I may just feel defensive of these fellas
since I live at home myself. (The movie also seems to imply that this is
chiefly a male phenomenon, but I know several more women who live with
their parents than men. Hmm… Do I smell a sequel?) Paula’s tactics seem
very effective, though I would think that if she is the main factor in
getting a man to leave his parents, there would be a serious chance of
him running back to them after the relationship dissolves. In any case,
she seems to be setting all these guys up for heartache.
Nonetheless,
I couldn’t help finding Paula pretty likable, and I do get the sense
that it’s not just about the money. She wants to encourage her unwitting
clients to spread their wings a little. Meanwhile, Tripp is a loafer
and a ladies’ man, which makes him rather annoying, but he’s also got a
respectable job that suits him and a tender big brotherly relationship
with a young man he refers to as his nephew. It’s through this boy that
we and Paula best glimpse his softer side.
Tripp is aptly named,
since he seems to have a special knack for taking pratfalls,
particularly when wild creatures are involved, and his hapless buddies
Ace (Justin Bartha) and Demo (Bradley Cooper) are the worst wingmen ever
on these occasions. Paula’s pal Kit (Zooey Deschanel) is a bit more
helpful, though she spends half the movie glowering over the racket made
by a mockingbird plaguing the house she and Paula share. Despite her
morose countenance, I found her one of the funniest characters and in
some ways enjoyed the romantic subplot involving her more than the main
one. Bates is funny too as the mom who smothers Tripp with affection but
simultaneously wants him out of the house. For her, letting go is a
struggle, while Bradshaw’s gruff manner as Tripp’s dad demonstrates that
he would be more than happy to see his son venture off on his own.
On the whole, I found Failure to Launch
a pretty engaging comedy and far from the worst McConaughey vehicle
I’ve seen. It’s a bit silly at times, while at others it’s
thought-provoking, prompting rumination over the reasons adults live
with their parents and the issues involved in such an arrangement.
Mostly, though, it’s just a light romance with a feel-good conclusion
and some pretty good laughs along the way.
Showing posts with label Matthew McConnaughey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Matthew McConnaughey. Show all posts
Friday, April 22, 2011
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Charles Dickens Might Want to Haunt the Makers of Ghosts of Girlfriends Past...
There are few stories that have affected me as deeply as A Christmas Carol,
the Charles Dickens classic that was one of the first to introduce to
me the idea of a villain finding redemption. I've seen oodles of
adaptations, and most have been very agreeable, with the Muppet version and the George C. Scott version taking top honors. I've now found one to occupy the bottom of the barrel: Ghosts of Girlfriends Past, written by Jon Lucas and Scott Moore and directed by Mark Waters.
This movie is a mild PG-13, but in some ways it's raunchier than many R-rated comedies. It takes the basic plot of A Christmas Carol but makes the pressing issue not miserly greed and outright misanthropy but insatiable lust and veiled misogyny. Connor Mead, played by Matthew McConaughey, is our Ebenezer Scrooge of sorts, a bachelor who makes a living taking shots of scantily clad women for famous magazines. His conquests seem to loathe him and desire him all at once; not a single female, it appears, is immune to his charms, but when they get together, these ladies have plenty of venom to spill about his callous nature.
While Ebenezer is deliciously acidic, spouting off pithy zingers with the force of a 19th-century Simon Cowell, Connor never has anything particularly eloquent to say. He's just thoroughly obnoxious, though the lechery that condemns him is overshadowed somewhat by the fact that very nearly every other character in the movie is absurdly oversexed. The movie centers around the wedding of Connor's younger brother Paul (Breckin Meyer), who, as Bob and Fred rolled into one, is far more likable than most but still guilty of cheating on his fiancee before they were engaged. If there's a "Tiny Tim" of the movie, it would be his impending marriage, the state of which becomes increasingly fragile from the moment Connor turns up, to the shock of most, for Best Man duty.
Filling the role of Jacob Marley is Wayne, the swingin' uncle who taught Connor everything he knows. Wayne has a much larger role in the film than Marley generally does; we see him playing a pivotal role in flashbacks, and his ghost turns up frequently throughout the film to talk things over with Connor. Michael Douglas plays Wayne as comically despicable, with his affection for his nephew his only really redeeming feature. Even once Connor has learned the lesson Wayne strove to teach him, his deceased uncle is still up to his old tricks, prowling the afterlife for Connor's cast-offs. Those would be the three ghosts - except two of them are clearly not dead, while the other takes the form of a braces-laden teenager, making Wayne's pursuit especially creepy.
As usual, the ghost of the past is the one with the most screen time. It would be nice, then, if she weren't so irritating. Granted, this character is usually a bit of a nag, but in this case, she also appears to be slightly deranged, making her commentary hard to take after a few moments. Luckily, Connor's one true love is much more tolerable. Her name is Jenny, and she is played by Jennifer Garner, which is part of the reason this aspect of the story reminds me of the far superior 13 Going on 30; another is that the teenage version of Jenny is played by Christa B. Allen, who also played the younger version of Garner's character in 13 Going on 30. (I also got a hint of LOST, with pre-adolescent Jenny, like Ben-loving Dharmaville dweller Annie, giving a birthday gift while on the swing set that the recipient still cherishes years later.) In both films, a boy and girl grow up best friends, but a longing for the popular crowd sweeps the girl away. In 13 Going on 30, the girl turns her back on the boy, while he moves on, broken-hearted but still true to himself. In this movie, Jenny never has the chance to make a long-term, conscious decision like that, since at the first whiff of heartache, Connor gets whisked off for indoctrination into his uncle's intensive school of Love 'Em and Leave 'Em. As an adult, she's bitter but otherwise nice enough, while he's the one with major personality defects. The movies wind up in a pretty similar place, but between sullying a beloved classic and making us put up with all sorts of saucy shenanigans, The Ghosts of Girlfriends Past doesn't earn a genuine desire for a happy ending.
McConaughey is an actor who seemed to teeter between endearing and insufferable. In We Are Marshall, the former characteristic was on display, but here, it's definitely the latter. Certain scenes with the lovelorn Jenny and the sweet - but never Bob Cratchit-force - Paul, whose high-strung but devoted fiancee Sandra (Lacey Chabert) is much like Mrs. Cratchit, make him tolerable, but it's too little too late. While those who love A Christmas Carol will have fun pointing out parallels (and M*A*S*H fans should keep an ear out for references to that show courtesy of Sandra's dad, Sergeant Volkom (Robert Forster), a gung-ho Korean War veteran), they might also want to listen for the distant but unmistakable sound of Charles Dickens rolling over in his grave.
This movie is a mild PG-13, but in some ways it's raunchier than many R-rated comedies. It takes the basic plot of A Christmas Carol but makes the pressing issue not miserly greed and outright misanthropy but insatiable lust and veiled misogyny. Connor Mead, played by Matthew McConaughey, is our Ebenezer Scrooge of sorts, a bachelor who makes a living taking shots of scantily clad women for famous magazines. His conquests seem to loathe him and desire him all at once; not a single female, it appears, is immune to his charms, but when they get together, these ladies have plenty of venom to spill about his callous nature.
While Ebenezer is deliciously acidic, spouting off pithy zingers with the force of a 19th-century Simon Cowell, Connor never has anything particularly eloquent to say. He's just thoroughly obnoxious, though the lechery that condemns him is overshadowed somewhat by the fact that very nearly every other character in the movie is absurdly oversexed. The movie centers around the wedding of Connor's younger brother Paul (Breckin Meyer), who, as Bob and Fred rolled into one, is far more likable than most but still guilty of cheating on his fiancee before they were engaged. If there's a "Tiny Tim" of the movie, it would be his impending marriage, the state of which becomes increasingly fragile from the moment Connor turns up, to the shock of most, for Best Man duty.
Filling the role of Jacob Marley is Wayne, the swingin' uncle who taught Connor everything he knows. Wayne has a much larger role in the film than Marley generally does; we see him playing a pivotal role in flashbacks, and his ghost turns up frequently throughout the film to talk things over with Connor. Michael Douglas plays Wayne as comically despicable, with his affection for his nephew his only really redeeming feature. Even once Connor has learned the lesson Wayne strove to teach him, his deceased uncle is still up to his old tricks, prowling the afterlife for Connor's cast-offs. Those would be the three ghosts - except two of them are clearly not dead, while the other takes the form of a braces-laden teenager, making Wayne's pursuit especially creepy.
As usual, the ghost of the past is the one with the most screen time. It would be nice, then, if she weren't so irritating. Granted, this character is usually a bit of a nag, but in this case, she also appears to be slightly deranged, making her commentary hard to take after a few moments. Luckily, Connor's one true love is much more tolerable. Her name is Jenny, and she is played by Jennifer Garner, which is part of the reason this aspect of the story reminds me of the far superior 13 Going on 30; another is that the teenage version of Jenny is played by Christa B. Allen, who also played the younger version of Garner's character in 13 Going on 30. (I also got a hint of LOST, with pre-adolescent Jenny, like Ben-loving Dharmaville dweller Annie, giving a birthday gift while on the swing set that the recipient still cherishes years later.) In both films, a boy and girl grow up best friends, but a longing for the popular crowd sweeps the girl away. In 13 Going on 30, the girl turns her back on the boy, while he moves on, broken-hearted but still true to himself. In this movie, Jenny never has the chance to make a long-term, conscious decision like that, since at the first whiff of heartache, Connor gets whisked off for indoctrination into his uncle's intensive school of Love 'Em and Leave 'Em. As an adult, she's bitter but otherwise nice enough, while he's the one with major personality defects. The movies wind up in a pretty similar place, but between sullying a beloved classic and making us put up with all sorts of saucy shenanigans, The Ghosts of Girlfriends Past doesn't earn a genuine desire for a happy ending.
McConaughey is an actor who seemed to teeter between endearing and insufferable. In We Are Marshall, the former characteristic was on display, but here, it's definitely the latter. Certain scenes with the lovelorn Jenny and the sweet - but never Bob Cratchit-force - Paul, whose high-strung but devoted fiancee Sandra (Lacey Chabert) is much like Mrs. Cratchit, make him tolerable, but it's too little too late. While those who love A Christmas Carol will have fun pointing out parallels (and M*A*S*H fans should keep an ear out for references to that show courtesy of Sandra's dad, Sergeant Volkom (Robert Forster), a gung-ho Korean War veteran), they might also want to listen for the distant but unmistakable sound of Charles Dickens rolling over in his grave.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
A Pair of Matthews Steer Moving Masterpiece We Are Marshall
Matthew Fox just can't seem to get away from plane crashes. After
getting to know him as Jack, the man largely responsible for maintaining
some semblance of order amongst the castaways on LOST, my friend and I were eager to see him deal with the aftermath of another airline disaster in his new movie. Only in We Are Marshall, a true story of tragedy and triumph, his character survives the crash only because he wasn't on the plane.
Seventy-five people in the Marshall University community, including all but four members of the football team, boarded a plane back to Huntington, West Virginia on that foggy November night in 1970. As their town awaited their homecoming, the air was calm, Kelly's Heroes at the theater, Cracklin' Rosie on the radio. And then, time stood still for an announcement. Seventy-five people in the Marshall University community had been lost in an inferno just miles away. The town would never be the same.
As one of the team's coaches, Red Dawson (Fox) - who reluctantly takes on the role of assistant coach when the team is rebuilt - might well have been on that plane. Instead, he went home by a different route on official business. While everyone in the town grapples with grief in the ensuing months, his is more acute than most as he lost so many close associates, so many promising young athletes, so much faith in his ability to protect his players. Whenever I gazed into that tormented face, I almost expected that in the background, I would hear the strains of Empty Chairs at Empty Tables, the lament young revolutionary Marius sings in Les Miserables after realizing that all of his comrades have died in battle. There is darkness and conflict behind Foxy Matthew's steely eyes - so much that it's a lucky thing we have a Matthew of more mirth to balance him out.
Matthew McConaughey tends to be a bit of a goofball in his films. Here, as incoming head coach and father of three Jack Lengyel, he brings a welcome lightness to the proceedings, initiating most of the movie's funniest moments. But the humor is the result of folksy charm from a big-hearted man who volunteers to rebuild the football team after empathizing with all those bereft families. His way of doing things is sometimes unconventional, but he's passionate and effective. He's also very handy with a metaphor; his apt comparisons help him to get his way on several occasions. Though he is a stranger in this town, he learns what he can about the deceased and encourages his players to honor them by getting out there on that field.
The football aspect of the movie plays much like a typical inspirational sports movie. The team starts out a mess, consisting mostly of freshmen (thanks to a concession from the NCAA), some of whom have never played the sport before. The few returning players grow quarrelsome with all these newcomers wearing jerseys that only months before belonged to their friends, little caring about the history behind them. But as the townspeople powerfully demonstrate early in the film, seeing their beloved football team in action again could do wonders for this bereaved town, so they have to pull themselves together. And with Jack on the job, help has a tendency to come from unexpected sources.
Notable personalities include Nate Ruffin (Anthony Mackie), who bears the burden of his survivor's guilt by straining against his injured shoulder in an effort to lead his teammates to victory; Annie Cantrell (Kate Mara), a lovely young waitress who, as the fiancee of one of the doomed players, strives to assuage the sorrow and loneliness of his father (Ian McShane), one complimentary dessert at a time; and perhaps my favorite character, buttoned-up university president Donald Dedmon (David Strathairn), who struggles to settle upon the most respectful course of action in the face of such tragedy and eventually learns to let passion overtake propriety for the sake of a grieving town.
The film's two-hour running time teeters toward the over-long but doesn't cross the line. Rather, the story's gradual unfolding allows us to witness the changes that occur over the course of nearly a year as well as get a glimpse into the complications involved in starting up a football team nearly from scratch. Appealing aerial views of this coal town surrounded by mountains add to the film's beauty, as does the soundtrack, peppered with such mellow classics as Gordon Lightfoot's If You Could Read My Mind and Cat Stevens' Peace Train.
In one of We Are Marshall's earliest scenes, the ill-fated coach impresses upon his team that winning games is the only thing that matters. By the end of the film, we get the sense that this isn't true anymore. While a win is always something to strive for, Jack and Red have foresight, laying the groundwork for future champions. For now, the most important thing is just taking the field, unified, proud to play a part in the continuance of this team's legacy. We Are Marshall aspires to be a movie about perseverance, about recovering from an unfathomable ordeal and somehow finding beauty in the ashes. It succeeds.
Seventy-five people in the Marshall University community, including all but four members of the football team, boarded a plane back to Huntington, West Virginia on that foggy November night in 1970. As their town awaited their homecoming, the air was calm, Kelly's Heroes at the theater, Cracklin' Rosie on the radio. And then, time stood still for an announcement. Seventy-five people in the Marshall University community had been lost in an inferno just miles away. The town would never be the same.
As one of the team's coaches, Red Dawson (Fox) - who reluctantly takes on the role of assistant coach when the team is rebuilt - might well have been on that plane. Instead, he went home by a different route on official business. While everyone in the town grapples with grief in the ensuing months, his is more acute than most as he lost so many close associates, so many promising young athletes, so much faith in his ability to protect his players. Whenever I gazed into that tormented face, I almost expected that in the background, I would hear the strains of Empty Chairs at Empty Tables, the lament young revolutionary Marius sings in Les Miserables after realizing that all of his comrades have died in battle. There is darkness and conflict behind Foxy Matthew's steely eyes - so much that it's a lucky thing we have a Matthew of more mirth to balance him out.
Matthew McConaughey tends to be a bit of a goofball in his films. Here, as incoming head coach and father of three Jack Lengyel, he brings a welcome lightness to the proceedings, initiating most of the movie's funniest moments. But the humor is the result of folksy charm from a big-hearted man who volunteers to rebuild the football team after empathizing with all those bereft families. His way of doing things is sometimes unconventional, but he's passionate and effective. He's also very handy with a metaphor; his apt comparisons help him to get his way on several occasions. Though he is a stranger in this town, he learns what he can about the deceased and encourages his players to honor them by getting out there on that field.
The football aspect of the movie plays much like a typical inspirational sports movie. The team starts out a mess, consisting mostly of freshmen (thanks to a concession from the NCAA), some of whom have never played the sport before. The few returning players grow quarrelsome with all these newcomers wearing jerseys that only months before belonged to their friends, little caring about the history behind them. But as the townspeople powerfully demonstrate early in the film, seeing their beloved football team in action again could do wonders for this bereaved town, so they have to pull themselves together. And with Jack on the job, help has a tendency to come from unexpected sources.
Notable personalities include Nate Ruffin (Anthony Mackie), who bears the burden of his survivor's guilt by straining against his injured shoulder in an effort to lead his teammates to victory; Annie Cantrell (Kate Mara), a lovely young waitress who, as the fiancee of one of the doomed players, strives to assuage the sorrow and loneliness of his father (Ian McShane), one complimentary dessert at a time; and perhaps my favorite character, buttoned-up university president Donald Dedmon (David Strathairn), who struggles to settle upon the most respectful course of action in the face of such tragedy and eventually learns to let passion overtake propriety for the sake of a grieving town.
The film's two-hour running time teeters toward the over-long but doesn't cross the line. Rather, the story's gradual unfolding allows us to witness the changes that occur over the course of nearly a year as well as get a glimpse into the complications involved in starting up a football team nearly from scratch. Appealing aerial views of this coal town surrounded by mountains add to the film's beauty, as does the soundtrack, peppered with such mellow classics as Gordon Lightfoot's If You Could Read My Mind and Cat Stevens' Peace Train.
In one of We Are Marshall's earliest scenes, the ill-fated coach impresses upon his team that winning games is the only thing that matters. By the end of the film, we get the sense that this isn't true anymore. While a win is always something to strive for, Jack and Red have foresight, laying the groundwork for future champions. For now, the most important thing is just taking the field, unified, proud to play a part in the continuance of this team's legacy. We Are Marshall aspires to be a movie about perseverance, about recovering from an unfathomable ordeal and somehow finding beauty in the ashes. It succeeds.
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