Get Rich or Die Tryin’

$9 is too much to pay for a 50¢ movie

Continually in the background of Get Rich or Die Tryin’ is an anti-drug, anti-violence message. Charlene (Joy Bryant) watches John Kerry, when he was left-liberal, kicking a little ass during the Iran-Contra hearings he held in the Senate. Just before Marcus (Fiddy) holds his debut performance a Take Back the Streets-type march passes in the background with “Stop the Violence” signs decrying the violent gang wars that plagued many communities in the late 80’s and early 90’s. This is contrasted quite harshly with the dominant story lines where violence and crack sales are the order of the day. In telling a fictionalized version of the life of Curtis Jackson, aka 50 Cent, this probably makes sense. The film falters though in the same place that this summer’s earlier and superior rags-to-rap-riches film, Hustle & Flow, did. Tacking on a feel-good ending to the tale of a destructive protagonist who is not reformed is problematic. Instead of showing all Marcus left in his wake by the time he finally quits the game, GRODT would have us rather celebrate his present and forget his past.

Opening with Marcus & crew taking down a check cashing establishment, the film very quickly finds Marcus lying on the street, having taken an unhealthy plural of bullets into his system. Though this might make an entertaining short, the film decides instead to have Marcus’ life flash oh so slowly before his and the audience’s eyes. Marcus’ first years with his mom (Serena Reeder) are given a rosy look of nostalgia along with linking the two in only the most simplistic manner. During this time he also has a budding romance with a neighbor thwarted when her parents find a sexually explicit, and comically confused, record he made for her. After mama gets offed Marcus is sent to live with his grandparents in a very full house. Mom’s drug sales always kept Marcus in the freshest fits but his grandparents’ poverty does not allow him any luxury. Like most kids, Marcus has dreams of shiny new shit and like most poor kids, he doesn’t have many obvious legit ways to get it. He starts running errands and slinging a little rock and moves up through the ranks to achieve a position of strength in Majestic’s Crew. He also happens back into a relationship with his childhood sweetie Charlene (Joy Bryant).

After his career poses one stumbling block too many he decides it’s time to become a rapper, not to be confused with a hip-hop artist, named Young Caesar. He picks up a buddy/manager in the body of Bama (Terrence Howard). He’s responsible for Young Caesar’s management and does so fine a job that he steals every scene he’s in. Of course Terrence Howard would steal scenes in damn near any picture but in GRODT his talent does no favors to 50 Cent’s wooden performance. If 50 Cent showed any charisma on screen GRODTwould not drag nearly as bad through nearly two hours of run-time. Instead he frequently changes from an unconvincing glare to a forced scowl with only the occasional foray into different facial expressions.

Jim Sheridan competently films the picture with enough slickness to make the aesthetic believable and the performances from Terrence Howard and a debuting Serena Reeder are solid enough to make the film watchable. The solid supporting cast though cannot overcome the incompetent lead. In one scene Charlene tells Marcus, “Put your arm around me.” Given the stiffness of 50’s performance it wouldn’t be surprising if he was similarly directed for every movement in the film.


Aeon Flux

To pee on Aeon Flux, a film that sux

In the year 2011 a virus kills 99% of the human population. Within 95 minutes, the audience will wished it had finished the job. The film opens with Aeon (Charlize Theron) catching a fly with her eyelashes. There are other scenes that could be called “neat” but this is as deep as the movie goes. A few hundred years later the remaining 1% of humans and their descendants are gathered in Bregna, a walled city. Outside the city there is nothing but green, green, and green. Far from being a utopia for survivors though Bregna is governed by Trevor Goodchild (Marton Csokas), a man who appears to be Stalin reincarnate.

Aeon is a member of the Monicans, a group of militants opposed to Goodchild rule. They are apparently an underground organization but when they walk around in Bregna their garb is, um, less than subtle. They stick out like John Candy in Tokyo. Aeon is summoned by Handler (Frances McDormand looking like Carrot Top with bed-head) for a mission to off Herr Goodchild. Protecting Trevor is his brother Oren (Jonny Lee Miller). Oren does all the dirty work, some of it without the knowledge of his elder sibling. After the regime kills Aeon’s sister Una Flux, Aeon adds revenge to the list of reasons why she opposes the Goodchilds (Goodchildren?). Before Una is killed Aeon tells us, “I had a family once. I had a life. Now all I have is a mission.” Is this very detailed foreshadowing? Confused editing? Who’s to know?

With the help of Sithandra (Sophie Okonedo) Aeon moves to intercept and assassinate Goodchild. Not too bright previously, the film hence becomes even more stupid. It moves into a very confused discussion of cloning. It simultaneously begins a strange defense of authoritarianism of a most foul type. Rather than adding a dash of sophistication to the plot, these tangents only serve to make the story more incoherent. The pretty people and elaborate sets help to distract a little bit but not enough that one doesn’t realize what a shitty movie Aeon Flux is.

Director Karyn Kusama’s previous feature Girlfight was so superior to this obnoxious schlock that it boggles the mind to compare them. Swapping out the surrealism of the original series for bland attempts at stylization Kusama manages to only squeeze a minute or two of entertainment out of the film. The muddled and boring script, imbecilic dialogue and leaden performances are only one side of the offensiveness of this film. Pete Postlethwaite, once described as “the best actor in the world” has a terrible role in this terrible film. McDormand and Theron are Oscar-winners and Okonedo was nominated last year. Yet despite all this talent and excellent source material the result is less entertaining than the average Chris O’Donnell vehicle. Is it the worst movie this year? No, that would be Dirty Love. But it doesn’t fall short for lack of effort.



Rent

My rent is late too sometimes

Rent (the play) opened in April of 1996 and wowed many a critic and viewer. It was a celebration of life in a community condemned to die. The deaths seemed inevitable whether coming from AIDS or from the death of the Bohemian way of life in the neighborhood do to a landlord with dollar signs in his eyes but it didn't stop the fight against either. Though much of the music wasn't very good the subject matter, timeliness and performances made up for most deficiencies. 2005's cinematic version of Rent keeps the problems with the music, amplifies them actually, and creates more. While Anthony Rapp, playing `Mark Cohen', has come a long way since he was in 1987's Adventures in Babysitting, it unfortunately remains director Chris Columbus' finest effort. He doesn't have the skills to deal with any subject matter higher than Harry Potter, which he didn't do very well despite having two chances, and he doesn't seem to know how to make a musical enjoyable.

Rent opens with brief introductions to most of the characters minus Maureen (Idina Menzel). How are they introduced? Well through song of course! Thus begin the problems. One of the problems with filming a musical is making it believable that the people doing the singing are doing the singing. Though the entire cast, largely the same as the original Broadway run, sings their own tunes poor sound editing give almost every song an undesirable slickness. In a couple of the more regrettable instances the soundtrack goes slightly out of sync but even when it's spot on it remains true that the music doesn't sound like it's coming from the folks on screen. The songs aren't supposed to sound like a sound track so much as they should sound like the cast singing. This slickness keeps the film completely flat until the `Tango Maureen' number finally injects a little life into the film. Mark & Joanne (Tracie Thoms) singing their way through their past and current romances with Maureen is one of the best moments of the film.

Benny Coffin (Taye Diggs) is a sellout who left his old roommates Mark & Roger (Adam Pascal) out to dry when he decides to evict them unless they pressure Maureen not to hold a protest against gentrification in their neighborhood. Mark is too busy not selling his "raw" and real documentaries to be bothered by Mr. Coffin and Roger steadfastly refuses to bend. Roger goes back to making awful rock songs that remind one of Bon Jovi at their most ridiculous. Also, he has Jon Bon Jovi's hair. The only characters we end up caring much about are Angel (Wilson Jermaine Heredia), Joanne and Mimi (Rosario Dawson). Mimi's character has problems of her own though. Before we're let on about Rosario's medical problems it's already a stretch accepting her healthy vibrant character as a hardcore junkie. When we find out she's got the germ too her appearance seems even more likely.

As the film moves through various romances, deaths and conflicts it rarely picks up any momentum. When it does it loses it quickly. Any film well over two hours long cannot afford to be flat at all much less through long stretches. Though AIDS is still a very relevant topic, the boredom caused by the film gives one time to think about some of the holes in the plot, like the pointed out in Team America. How does everybody have AIDS? It's not Botswana it's the East Village. The AIDS scare is hardly gone and people are still dying from it but it no longer has the shadow it did during the late 80's and early 90's making the film a bit dated. Beyond that why are all the 35-year-olds in the film, with the exception of Joanne, in constant states of transition? The Broadway show featured characters about, oh, say ten years younger and it made a bit more sense. Using the same cast leaves only Mimi as a member of a younger generation. Also the East Village of today bears little resemblance to that of even ten years ago having been ravaged by a different infection, gentrification. With the performances being generally solid one can only shake a fist at Chris Columbus. His weak film takes all the joy out of a celebration of life.



Battleground: 21 Days on the Empire’s Edge

It would be a little sketchy for me to review this film for CIMC when we are going to be using it as a fundraiser tomorrow. Instead I’ll post a bunch of links to reviews written by disinterested parties for folks to peruse. For more information about the event follow the link provided at the bottom of the article.

New York Times Magazine

www.nytimes.com/2005/11/13/movies/13documentaries.html

Chicago Reader

www.chicagoreader.com/movies/filmfest2004/index2.html

Chicago Sun-Times

www.suntimes.com/output/movies/wkp-news-ciff15.html

Eye Weekly

www.eye.net/eye/issue/issue_04.21.05/film/hotdocs.html

eFilmCritic

efilmcritic.com/review.php

Variety

www.variety.com/review/VE1117925431