Scarface and Howl (Films 51, 52, 53)

I'm going to start off my saying that I know I should've like "Scarface" more than I actually did, since it's been named one of the best movies of the 20th century. I'm not exactly sure why I didn't like it. Maybe it was because the film seemed to drag on for almost 3 hours, and most of the story didn't entice me enough to care what was happening. Maybe it was because this is a controversial film from 1983 (and I say controversial because of the time it came out and the amount of violence and course language that was used throughout the film), but let's be honest, now it's 2013 and perhaps I've been desensitized to violence and foul language, but it honestly seemed mild to the now 30 years of films that have been able to up the ante (and I can appreciate "Scarface" and Brian De Palma and Oliver Stone for preparing our society). The music used as the soundtrack seemed very cliche, very "Miami Vice" if you know what I mean. Maybe it was the fact that Al Pacino's faux Cuban accent just really got under my skin after awhile. Or maybe it was that the overall story just did not affect me. It was actually more infuriating.

Tony Montana is a punk, criminal from Cuba who finds his way on American soil (Miami) via the United States taking in Cuban refugees escaping Fidel Castro's dictatorship. Joke was on us, though, because Castro released mostly ex-prisoners! Upon arrival, Montana quickly decides to cast aside an opportunity at an honest, hardworking living rising up the "ladder" as a dishwasher. Instead, he opts for rising up the "corporate ladder" of the drug trade. I applaud the film for not veering in the direction of typical crime drama and all the cliches that come with that. Oliver Stone is an excellent screenplay writer. Instead, Stone presents us with almost a character analysis of Montana as a man, as a criminal. And neither De Palma nor Stone should have been faced with the controversy that the film and its critics threw at them, because they were not being gratuitous for the sake of it (with the violence and language). They were thrusting us in the life of a drug dealer, of a drug kingpin who became a self-proclaimed god, an untouchable; and his lifestyle. And I guess, his life and lifestyle as a drug dealer bred violence (and greed) and sex, among other things. This is simply my trust in the film's representation of that life, because I have absolutely no experience with it in my own life. Now, I know some people who've had the experience, and I'd love to ask them about it, but I'm not sure if it's commonly discussed in casual conversation! I found it interesting that on the DVD, there is a feature with Hip Hop artists discussing how the film is very inspirational to them and their chosen lifestyles. Seems fitting. But I wonder if they even watched the film through til the end, because Montana eventual meets his inevitable (to me) fitting end. A drug kingpin who reached his pinnacle goes down in a blaze of glory and gunshots. He met his demise, after all, once you've reached the top (of whatever path you've chosen to walk), the only way to go is down. And Tony Montana falls hard. Loses it all. Let this be a lesson in greed.

Al Pacino has always been a great, if not one of the best, character actors. He breathes life into Tony Montana. He is unforgiving. He is also unsympathetic. He has motivation, even if it is the "wrong" kind of motivation, we can understand. It's a bizarre twist on the "American Dream." Is this how the general population sees their pursuit of the Dream? There is a breadth of character traits that are transferable: laziness, ruthlessness, grandiosity, self-esteem (low and then high), self-righteousness, pursuit of happiness through pipe dreams, and the inability to ever truly be happy.

Michelle Pheiffer (at the time, only 25 years old) plays the only cliche part in the film: the semi-anorexic blonde girl who follows the trail of drugs (cocaine) to the men in her romantic life. I've always enjoyed Pheiffer and wished she had a more substantial role to flesh out within the story, but I can understand why her character is not essential to the story.

The original film came out in 1932 and is apparently just as grandiose as this 1983 remake, so I guess this team of filmmakers got it right and I wanted to love it more. Maybe I need to be a famous rapper escaping a certain lifestyle and hiding away in my expensive crib with my entourage of lackies and 6 or 7 unnecessary vehicles (one of which is bound to be a Hummer of sorts), living an expensive lifestyle which will inevitably lead to my claiming bankruptcy in order to appreciate "Scarface" more. But until then, I will call this a mediocre film and instead lead you in the direction of Denzel Washington's "American Gangster" for a different, yet similar look into the life of a drug kingpin who got too big for his britches.
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"Middle of Nowhere" stars Anton Yelchin and Eva Amurri, as well as Susan Sarandon (Eva Amurri's real life mother....hmm...nepotism?) and Will Holland.

As a fan of "coming-of-age" teenage stories, I found this one a bit insulting to the viewer. No one really has the much-sought-after epiphany that defines a coming-of-age story. Instead, the film presents us with a privileged teenage boy who is cast away to his wealthy uncle's home by his own parents as a way of sidestepping military school. In order to make it on his own and to thumb his nose at the adults in his life, he decides to sell pot. Enter Eva Amurri (who works with him at a local waterpark...really?), the busty 19 year old, down on her luck about paying for college on her own because her mother (Susan Sarandon) is recklessly spent thousands of dollars over the years. Amurri's character decides to help out and be the driver for these drug-selling runs.

There's little to no true character development, and as I've said before, when I watch movies, I want to feel something for the characters. A good story evokes emotions from the viewer...unless you are looking for pure entertainment (then may I suggest blow-em-up films from the likes of Michael Bay...hello, "Transformers").

I thought Eva Amurri was pure gold as the bad girl in the film "Saved!" so if you're looking for something better, might I suggest that one, instead. You're welcome.
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I also watched "Howl."

James Franco plays a young Allen Ginsberg. The film focuses primarily on the inception of, publication of, and ensuing trial of obscenity for his poem "Howl" which came out in 1957.

The film is rather experimental in how it tells the story and I really enjoyed its creativity. There is a lot going on in such a short film (only running about 1 hour and 24 minutes).

We get flashbacks of the young Ginsberg reading "Howl" at one of those Beat poets' coffeehouses in the 1950s to a crowd hooting and clapping along to the vivid imagery of his words.

We also get "modern day" Ginsberg as he discusses certain aspects of his life and the process of writing the poem through an interview with an unseen/off camera person. These are the parts of the film where we get a more intimate look into Ginsberg as the person behind the poem. Did you know: he was against the publication of it originally because he did not want his father discovering that he was a homosexual?

We also get pieces of the trial for obscenity that "Howl" and its publisher went through. Here we have well done performances by Jon Hamm (he seems to find his way into many films), as well as a small, but important performance by Jeff Daniels, among others.

But I think the best part of the film was the truly unique, animated piece in which the poem "Howl" was played out through animation. I loved the colors. I loved seeing the film acted out in this way. It gave me a better understanding of the poem, having only read it once before. I've always been a visual learner, so I appreciated the poem more after seeing this film.

I've been impressed with James Franco as an actor and I admire him for taking on such a powerful man as Allen Ginsberg.


I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving
  hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry
  fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the 
  starry dynamo in the machinery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the
  supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of
  cities contemplating jazz,

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