I had pretty low expectations for this movie, so was pleasantly surprised by it. It feels very much like a made-for-TV picture (thought it wasn’t), and could almost pass for an extended pilot, were it not for the really bizarre sexual dynamic between the leads. Darren McGavin plays Michael Nolan, a recently divorced guy who accidentally becomes a repo man (judging from this film and Repo Man, I have to assume no one intentionally sets out to become a repo man, it can only happen by accidental recruitment) and teams up with Larry, a smart-mouthed sixteen year old repo lady, played by Denise Nickerson. I’m willing to accept that Larry, who is a teen runaway, might have a set of issues that would lead her to be sexually attracted to, and sexually agressive toward, Michael, but the off-putting bit is that Michael is very, very slow to present the “you’re only sixteen” argument when trying to turn her down. This is further complicated by the ending, in which the two agree to a common law adoption and Michael admits that he’s had lustful thoughts toward Larry in the past. It’s a weird dynamic to put in the middle of a fairly goofy comedy.

Actually, looking at the goofy bits reminded me of all the once-staples of film from my youth that are entirely out of fashion today. I can’t remember the last film I saw with a slapstick car chase sequence. Or with characters openly swiping from the Three Stooges. Or awesome title songs that feature the title of the movie awkwardly crammed into the lyrics. It’s kind of a shame.

I have seen Streets of Fire many times in the past and will likely see it many times in the future, but this was the first time I’ve been able to see it on a big screen. I must say, that opening sequence is even more awesome on a big screen, with “Going Nowhere Fast” coming out of every speaker. That first shot of Willem Dafoe in the crowd, is just fantastic.

The crowd wasn’t quite as annoying as I expected. I’m not sure it’s an easy movie to appreciate ironically; you pretty much have to buy into its absurd over-the-topness to get any pleasure out of it, which makes it hard to laugh at. We saw it with a friend who had not seen it before, and, when Dafoe pulls out the pickaxes for the duel at the end, he had to exclaim, out loud, “What the fuck?” which is pretty much the only thing you can say. No matter how many times I see this movie, it remains completely inexplicable.

I don’t want to demean this film in any way, but I think the thing I liked most about the film is what it didn’t do. Jane doesn’t turn out to have a brain tumour. Aaron isn’t actually gay. Christine and her husband don’t get back together. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, and for this to fall into predictable rhythms, but it never did.

The one thing I would like to note is that here, as in Walking and Talking, Holofcener makes the argument that attractive, intelligent women are perhaps better off with funny-looking, mumbling, neurotic guys. I’ve never seen pictures of her husband, so I have to assume he’s a funny-looking, mumbling, neurotic guy, but I wonder why I am perfectly all right with her recurring assertions that this is a good match, but somewhat offended by the recent string of Apatow films that make essentially the same claim. I guess it’s easier to accept when the better-looking, smarter person is the one making the claim, but it seems odd there aren’t a lot of male directors making films about why it’s better for handsome, smarty guys to date funny-looking, mumbling, neurotic girls.

Most directors understand that the quickest way to turn an audience against a character, or to underscore the evilness of your antagonist, is to have him or her be cruel to animals, preferably dogs. Nothing makes your villain lower than casually kicking a dog.

Ang Lee, on the other hand, seems to think that his hero should rip a dog in half. Granted, it’s an irradiated dog that’s trying to kill him, but, still, I’m not sure audiences like that level of violence directed at dogs. Most directors who deal with a protagonist getting attacked by dogs come up with some sort of clever solution (e.g., trick the dog into running into a car and slam the door shut, slip some tranquilizers into a hamburger, etc) that prevents the character from being bitten without alienating the audience with animal abuse. Punching a dog so hard that he explodes seems like a good way to lose your viewers.

There were, of course, many other problems with this movie, but I figure those have all been covered by others fairly well at this point. Though, I will say I pretty surprised to see that Zzzax ended up being an inspiration for the film.

I know I’m a little late to realize this, but Leterrier is really a very odd action director. He certainly enjoys a good, well-choreographed fight sequence as much as the next guy (and, compared to a lot of directors, is quite good at shooting them so that they make some visual sense), but also seems to have a strong fondness for the pleasures of quiet domesticity. There were certainly hints of it in The Incredible Hulk, but I can’t think of a lot of films that actually pull off the second act “gunslinger settles down” piece and make it seem more interesting and appealing than the action-filled first and third acts. Usually, you find yourself understanding that, intellectually, our hero is better off settling down with the pretty, young schoolmarm, but, really, all we really want is for him to stand in the street at noon and shoot someone. Here, you feel a pretty definite sense of loss when Danny’s forced back into his old life, even if you know full well it’s going to end with him beating in Bob Hoskins’ face. Nicely done.

I really wanted to like this movie and, for the first twenty minutes or so, I did. Elise Muller’s delivery of “I’m so sorry” when learning that the other aspiring actress doesn’t have an agent pretty much killed me, but the movie loses momentum once they retreat to the cabin. I understand what they were going for, but the characters (and the relationships between them) aren’t really as interesting as they ought to be. I just didn’t particularly care about the interactions, which made the last two thirds of the movie a little dull.

There’s really no other way to discuss this than to do each of the short films separately, so here goes (broken down by director).

Podalydes: Nice, but very modern Euro art-house feeling. The Kieslowski influence seemed strong.

Berges/Chadha: Charming. Maybe a little cutesy, and possibly intolerable had it run more than a minute longer than it did, but it’s hard to deny the appeal of meeting a cute, picked on girl.

Van Sant: Kind of stupid. The comedic twist was pretty visible about 1/3rd of the way in.

Coen/Coen: Eh. I mean, it looked nice, and it made me chuckle a bit, but it was a little too Coen-y.

Salles/Thomas: Probably my second least favourite of the bunch. Saccharine and predictable.

Doyle: Bizarre. I still don’t know what to make of this one. I mean, it looked great, but I have no idea what it was about.

Coixet: I don’t know if Coixet lost a spouse or parent, but seems odd to go back to that again so soon as My Life Without Me. Still, nicely done, and very sad, but just seems like perhaps she should come up with a different plot element.

Suwa: I was okay with this one until Willem Dafoe showed up as a magic cowboy.

Chomet: Very enjoyable. I didn’t really think I would enjoy a short film about mimes, especially since I wasn’t particularly crazy about Triplets of Belleville, but this was charming. Again, not sure I could have handled more, but good for five minutes.

Cuaron: I’m not a big fan of the fakeout as a short film. The “I’m going to write all the dialogue so it implies one sort of relationship, but really it’s something else.” I guess we’re supposed to go “oh, he’s so clever” when we get the piece of contextualizing information, but it just sort of feels like he wasted five minutes of my time.

Assayas: All right, I suppose. I like Maggie Gyllenhaal, so that helped, but it just never felt like it came together properly.

Schmitz: Very nice. A little sappy perhaps, but the creative narrative structure offset a lot of that.

LaGravenese: Eh. Kind of stupid. I mean, I like Bob Hoskins, but the humour was a little forced, and I ended up not really buying it.

Natali: I liked Cube, but this was awful. It looked like a perfume commercial. A vampire-themed perfume commercial, but still.

Craven: Not too bad, but a little heavy-handed toward the end. I’m not entirely sure I buy the idea that a woman’s fondest wish is be to married to someone who quotes Oscar Wilde incessantly, but maybe I just know the wrong women.

Tykwer: Excellent. I had kind of assumed, based on all of Tykwer’s films before and since, that Run Lola Run was a one-time experiment, but this certainly felt like a return to that style. It’s been a while since I saw Lola, and this made me want to rewatch it.

Depardieu/Auburtin: There are worse things than a faux-Cassavetes piece, particularly one that shamelessly uses his favourite actors. I am increasingly fond of Gena Rowlands, so I’m pretty happy to watch her in anything, particularly in something that pretty much stays out of her way.

Payne: Man, do I hate Alexander Payne. He certainly has a tendency to act like a bully toward his subjects, and this is probably the most egregious example to date. There’s certainly a nice story to tell about a woman who doesn’t have a whole lot going for her who falls in love with the city of Paris, but I’m not sure what is gained by mocking her to this degree. Yes, I understand her French is lousy, but she can still read (and presumably tell the difference between Bolivar and de Beauvoir). The bit just came off as mean spirited and possibly the worst possible way to end the film.

So here’s what I don’t get about the recent spate of Apatow-related films. I can understand the utter and complete inability to edit; the productions are actor-centric enough that I suspect they like just letting scenes run longer than they should for the sake of the performances (and to the detriment of the film on the whole). I can understand the slight misogyny and hostility to achievement. But I don’t understand Jonah Hill. At all. I mean, on Freaks and Geeks and Undeclared, Apatow managed to assemble a stunningly good cast. Not just the top-level actors, but the weird bit players that end up stealing the show. All excellent and exactly the right tone.

Jonah Hill? Not so much. Not at all. He can’t act. He’s got no comedic timing. I just don’t get him. He just sucks the energy out of every scene he’s in. Granted, he’s not in a whole lot of scenes in Sarah Marshall, so he’s not my main complaint with the film (which would be the film’s profoundly wrong-headed pacing and Mila Kunis’ creepy tan), but I figured I might as well vent.