Of Angst and Existentialism

Last week when I scoped out the new stuff opening in theatres, I didn't want to see any of it.

It's an interesting predicament, really. We had four major releases last weekend -- Ghost Town, Lakeview Terrace, My Best Friend's Girl and Igor. It's exactly the situation the management got me some help to tackle.

But my honest opinion these days is that there are a ton of movies coming out that just aren't worth talking about. They're not worth mentioning, not worth the column inches. Not worth your time to watch or read about.

Ghost Town -- it's just Ghost with a British comedian in Demi Moore's role. My Best Friend's Girl -- one of those dumb romantic comedies they release about every two months hoping to catch the date crowd. It's also the only thing they'll let Dane Cook do. Igor -- I can't make fun of this one, really. But I haven't seen anything on it. Not a commercial. Not a clip. Not a trailer. I haven't even seen a poster. How do you put out an animated movie starring John Cusack without doing any marketing?

I opted for Lakeview Terrace, even though it looked like another run-of-the-mill domestic thriller. Pacific Heights redux, part 87. Anyway, Lakeview and not a one of the other three. Instead, I checked into a couple films opening at the Circle.

There's something wrong with the system when an avowed movie fan doesn't want to see even one of four major releases. Not only do the studios have no idea what's any good, they have no idea what we want to watch. They're just throwing product out there and hoping something catches on. They can't honestly believe one of these movies is going to be a hit.

Somehow, though, I think most movies make money. If not at the theatre, they do it via rentals and DVD sales. It's probably one of the safest investments around, which means we can look for even more of the same.

Hoo. Rah.

So Surfwise opens at the Circle this week. It's been a longtime coming as it got bumped during the summer. I've had the screener on the shelf seems like forever. Oddly, I never bothered to actually see what the film was about. Had I checked, I'm not sure whether or not I would've been interested.

The Eternal Cowabunga

Surfwise is about the Paskowitz family. They were basically surfing nomads during the '60s. Imagine, if you will, a father, a mother, eight sons and one daughter living in a tiny motorhome. The kids never going to school, never allowed to eat sugar, never understanding what money was.

Listening to the Patron, Dorian "Doc" Paskowitz talk about his life and his philosophy, you can't help but think he's a little crazy. He's obsessed with sex. He thinks mankind should emulate animal behavior and diet for optimal health. And then there's the surfing thing.

But then again, Paskowitz's motivations aren't off the reservation. The guy is a Stanford graduate. He had a successful medical practice. But after two failed marriages, he realized the life of working and consuming wasn't for him. He just wanted to surf.

It's an interesting tale. Coming at it from "our" perspective, it's hard not to think of this family as . . . out there. They didn't have anything. But then again, instead of lifetime of days in an office or classroom that all run together, they got out and lived. It's an idea not without some seductive properties, at least to me.

It's not about being a "bum," which would be the easy label to apply to the Paskowitzes. We're indoctrinated into thinking we need to play the game. Go to school. Get a job. Get married. Buy stuff. Spend your life working to pay that stuff off. Sounds like indentured servitude when you put that way, and in that light, is it so hard to imagine someone might not want their family to live that kind of life?

That's ultimately what's going on with the Paskowitz family, and the postulation of the film itself.

Surfwise looks pretty much like all the other surfing documentaries--lots of soft light, shots of the water, kids playing on the beach, and surfing, of course. Nothing visually spectacular about it, but in that way, Surfwise allows you to focus on the family and their life.

It's interesting and thought-provoking. Can't fault a movie for trying to be those two things, especially not in today's cinematic environment.

Check it out this week if you get the chance.

A Grand Denouement

Next up is Elegy, which also opens at the Circle this week. It's one of those flicks that in its own way is no different than the romantic comedy of the month. It's a drama, not necessarily a remarkable one, but it's still a better movie than your run-of-the-mill romcom. The characters are better, as is the writing--and the acting.

So you might not want to immerse yourself in the life of David Kepesh (Sir Ben Kingsley). He's a guy who . . . well, he's completely self-serving. A long way back, he walked out on his wife and child because that wasn't what he wanted out of life. Since that time, he's avoided being committed to anyone, instead being a serial womanizer and living according to his whims.

Of course, he would say he's merely being honest, being true to himself and his desires as a man, which is great until you get old and realize that kind of life has left you utterly alone.

Kepesh is a professor, an observer of culture and all things high brow. He's an intellectual, which no doubt is how he justifies his manner of living. He gets derailed when he meets Consuela Castillo (Penelope Cruz), a woman 30 years younger than him.

He chases her, catches her. And for a lot of reasons, she's the one who destroys all the lies he tells himself to get by. Even as his best friend, George (Dennis Hopper) warns him of the inevitable outcome, he gets overcome by the obsession and jealousy of a younger man. He discovers that, in the end, he didn't have it right, that his life is better with her in it. He has to make a choice between the lies he tells himself and life with Consuela.

Elegy isn't a fast mover. It moves with deliberation, like overwrought literature. But . . . the characters are finely wrought and worth watching. It's good stuff. It reels you in slowly to the point where you don't even realize you've been snagged.

It's very well crafted. The lighting in most scenes reflects the life of Kepesh, and the music sets the perfect tone.

Ugh. I sound like a real critic. The point is, however, that the story is engrossing and the film is well-crafted. Check it out.

Not In My Neighborhood

And that just leaves us with Lakeview Terrace.

Abel Turner (Samuel L. Jackson) is a widower and father of two. He's also a cop. And it would seem like a good guy. But he's not a good guy. He's a racist cop with a chip on his shoulder.

When his new neighbors, Chris (Patrick Wilson) and Lisa (Kerry Washington), move in, he dislikes them immediately, mostly because Chris is white and Lisa is black. He disapproves of them and doesn't want them as neighbors and begins going out of his way to make them feel unwelcome.

His way gets fairly scary as he's a cop. He is the law, after all. What can they do to retaliate?

That's it, more or less. It's set in California during one of those giant wildfires, though the fire has little to do with the story, unless it's supposed to be some sort of subtext. Hey, directors, you need to first make a good movie before you go trying to give it depth.

It's a tired plot. I can't even get 300 words out of this thing. You've seen Sam Jackson's character in other movies. You don't need a lecture on interracial relationships from a suburban thriller. This isn't a drama. It's a dime novel. And it isn't tense. It follows the suburban thriller playbook.

Waste of time.

If all movies were as cliché and uncreative as Lakeview Terrace, there'd be no point to my job at all. Then again, most are. If we weren't a society of instant gratification, I'd tell everyone to wait until December when I do my end-of-the-year awards, and then to watch all the films on that list.

Think of all the time you spend watching movies you could be doing something else -- reading, running, biking, hiking, meeting with friends, vacationing--surfing, maybe.

Lakeview Terrace isn't bad. It's just worthless.

See you next week.