Sex and the City

My review of Sex and the City, the movie, appears in this week's Fast Forward Weekly!

Grown-up Sex

Carrie and Company barely miss a beat

Published May 29, 2008 by Andrea Warner in Film Reviews

Take one last sip of your cosmos and shout it from the skyscrapers: Welcome back, ladies!

Was it the tough talk about sex, men and the business of love that helped build the Sex and the City empire? Fans of the show know it’s a truth far more profound — friendship. The beating heart of SATC has always been the relationship between soulmates Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha. Well, that and shoes.

The film opens to reveal that the years since the TV series have been kinder to some than others: Charlotte is blissfully content with her family, Samantha has forsaken New York for L.A. (and possibly herself for her boyfriend, Smith), Miranda is more cynical than ever after hitting a hard patch with Steve, and Carrie’s fairytale ending is hanging by a silk thread.

The film clocks in at a little more than two hours, so some stories, unfortunately, get shortchanged. Miranda and Steve’s storyline, while offering Cynthia Nixon a chance to do some great acting, feels forced and maligns Steve’s character permanently. Kim Cattrall brings the sex to 50-year-old Samantha, who continues to grow as she makes a tough choice. Kristin Davis shines as Charlotte, who has become the girls’ spokesperson for happiness. But it’s Sarah Jessica Parker who brings a new and very welcome depth to our flawed heroine. Carrie demurs from sharing details of her sex life with Big, stays calm even when she sees the crisis coming and makes 40 look absolutely fabulous.

The men, save for Big (the reliably charming Chris Noth), struggle for face time, but lose out to the fashion. Scene upon scene is devoted to designers and stunningly chic clothes that insist on reminding viewers again and again that Sex and the City is a trendsetter. While the eye candy is pretty, it is also distracting and deprives the audience of more moments with characters like the gay boyfriends, Stanford and Anthony, who are under-utilized here.

Ultimately, this is a film for the fans. While the opening sequence gives a beautifully brief synopsis of the ladies’ lives — complete with some of their most memorable lines — it’s unlikely that the unfolding narrative will pack as much emotional punch for those viewers going in cold. It’s great to see Carrie so happily confident in hers and Big’s love (their playful banter hasn’t dulled), or to watch Miranda’s brittle breakdown. Still, Sex and the City has always been more about the journey than the destination. The film is a fitting tribute to the question the series posed all those years ago: single and fabulous? You bet.

Then She Found Me

My review of Then She Found Me appears in this week's Fast Forward Weekly

Then She Found Me? Kind of wish she hadn’t

Helen Hunt’s directorial debut enters movie-of-the-week territory
Published May 8, 2008 by Andrea Warner in Film Reviews

Then She Found Me, Helen Hunt’s feature directorial debut, attempts to tackle such grandiose themes as love and loss, along with the three big Fs — fidelity, family and fertility. The result is something like an overgrown garden, with Hunt mistakenly planting the tangled roots in the estrogen-drenched movie-of-the-week genre.

Hunt stars as April, a kindergarten teacher in her late 30s. Within the first five minutes of the film, April’s entire world crumbles. In rapid-fire succession, her childish husband (Matthew Broderick) leaves her, her adoptive mother dies and her biological mother (Bette Midler) arrives on the scene. Twenty minutes later, she’s embarking on a meet-cute romance with the single father of one of her students (Colin Firth) and then finds out she’s pregnant with her ex-husband’s child. An entire year’s worth of soap opera-styled calamities and plot twists play out in the remaining 80 minutes.

There’s no lack of sincerity on the actors’ parts. Hunt’s April, at her lowest points, is realistically flawed and has the visage to complement her inner struggles — painfully thin, long frown lines, and not a trace of makeup. The actress’s choice to ditch vanity throughout most of the film is brave in today’s Hollywood. Midler is charmingly sweet and brash, and appears to relish the opportunity to dig into the emotional confrontations. She and Hunt have a nice chemistry and are believable as a reunited mother and daughter. Broderick fares less well in the thankless role of the man-child who doesn’t know how to grow up, particularly when compared to Firth’s romantic, sardonic and occasionally angry hero. Firth truly shines as a man trying his best to let his guard down and fall in love. He also lays claim to the best lines.

Still, even the stellar cast can’t get past the convoluted story. Based on a book by Elinor Lipman, the script apparently deviates heavily from the original text. This would be fine if a defter hand had cut the fat and made a leaner, more resonant film. While Hunt shows promise as a director, she seems unable to recognize her film’s flaws — it keeps insisting that it’s about real people and real situations, and yet it moves further into ridiculousness with each new revelation. April’s troubles and triumphs come fast and furious, but have no time to hit home.

Hunt spent 10 years getting Then She Found Me off the ground. Eleven might have been the magic number.

Kenny review

My review of Kenny also appears in this week's Fast Forward Weekly.

By Andrea Warner

It’s a safe bet that there’s never been a film so heavily laden with poop jokes that also packs as much emotional heft as Kenny.

The titular working-class hero of this Australian comedy is a gentle giant in overall shorts, busting his butt to balance his personal life (demanding ex-wife, bitterly aging father, a good rapport with his young son) with his professional life (an all-consuming job as the veritable prince of porta-potties.)

Shot documentary-style, the camera throws Kenny into one potentially degrading situation after another — determining the variety-of-food-to-toilet ratio at festivals (more curry means more potties), fishing a woman’s lost wedding ring from a toilet and putting up with a fussy customer haranguing his parenting choices. Kenny handles each situation with grace and aplomb. He’s proud of what he does and genuinely doesn’t understand why society looks down on his career.

Kenny’s naive glee is contagious as he hops a plane to Nashville to take part in an international porta-potty convention. His fish-out-of-water enthusiasm endears him to a fetching stewardess and a karaoke-loving Japanese businessman. Watching Kenny unknowingly negotiate a huge contract for his company is as pleasurable as watching his sweetly clumsy and innocent flirtations blossom.

Shane Jacobson’s Kenny is so charmingly real that every hit and every hurdle feels personal. He’s absolutely brilliant as he delivers one off-the-cuff monologue after another regarding the ins and outs of digesting and egesting. Jacobson co-wrote the script with his brother, Clayton Jacobson, who also served as the film’s director. Originally released in their native Australia in 2006, Kenny has become a cult sensation and is about to launch a television series.

The Jacobson brothers have crafted a remarkable first movie that hits at the epicentre of our service culture society — there’s an unfair stigma attached to those who do the jobs no one wants, but Kenny forces the audience to reflect on why this is and grapple with their own judgments. As Kenny deftly handles one landmine after another, it’s impossible to remain unaffected by his dignity and humour.

Kenny himself isn’t a typical centrefold fantasy, but this makes the Jacobson brand of manliness all the more refreshing in its inspiration. In this day and age, when more and more people are dissatisfied with their jobs and yet define themselves by what they do, Kenny was a crapshoot, and is now poised to become a cultural phenomenon.

Shane Jacobson from Kenny

My interview with Shane Jacobson, star of the Australian hit comedy Kenny, appears in today's Fast Forward Weekly. If you're in Calgary, pick up a copy!

Good guys don’t always finish last
Shane Jacobson isn’t a celebrity, just a guy with a ‘recognizable fat head’
By Andrea Warner

Shane Jacobson is about to be a very famous man. Already a 2006 best actor-winner from the Film Critics Circle of Australia for his humble little plumber film, Kenny, Jacobson is just now touching down on North American soil. Move over, FUBAR — a new classic of the mockumentary genre has arrived.

Kenny tells the simple but profound story of a porta-potty worker struggling to keep people happy. The movie connected so deeply with Australian audiences that it quickly became a cult hit, and soon Kenny fever went airborne.

Jacobson’s shares his Kenny success with his director, co-writer and brother, Clayton. This is their first collaboration, and the resounding accolades are still rolling in. The pair have just completed work on a Kenny “World Toilet Tour,” which will air in eight half-hour instalments on Australian television, and finds Kenny in places as far-flung as Egypt, India, China and outer space.

This is a big leap forward for the actor and writer, who used to supplement his income by producing events. Without those event management connections, he likely would never have stumbled across the Splash Down worker (the real port-o-potty company where the fictional Kenny works) who inspired the film.

“I met the Splash Down worker [at] an event,” Jacobson recalls. “One of the ladies came out [of the toilet] and she was like ‘that hole in there, it stinks.’ He said, ‘Look lady, I don’t want to state the obvious here, but that’s a ladies’ toilet and you just came out of it, and you’re saying it stinks. I don’t manufacture the stink. If it stinks in there, it’s clearly got something to do with you or the lady who was in there before you. I only take the stuff away, I don’t manufacture it.’”

Therein lies the film’s simple premise — a man who refuses to be embarrassed about what he does, and is genuinely happy and content with his life. It’s a refreshing change from most cinematic heroes, who are either complex, conflicted or a curiously tedious combination of the two. Jacobson says that Kenny is actually a movie about decency more than anything else.

“We’re dealing with working-class stuff here,” he explains. “Working in a job the world frowns upon, there’s a lot of heart to be found.” He recounts his experiences in shopping malls where the cleaners keep their heads down and don’t make eye contact, trained to not expect respect. Jacobson and his brother make it a point to have the cleaners in the audience stand up after Kenny screenings and be applauded. That natural desire to champion the underdog is a huge part of what makes Kenny shine, and why Jacobson and his brother were so determined to create a character that was genuine and unselfconscious.

“We all hear the expression never judge a book by its cover, and I find that an interesting notion,” Jacobson says. “The difference with our film is that the message isn’t to the people who judge, but to the books who are being judged. To all those books who are being judged, it doesn’t change the content of your book. It just means they’ve chosen not to read the pages.”

This philosophy is keeping Jacobson focused on his career. He likens the last two years to being a “paper airplane in a hurricane,” but he’s grateful for the opportunities Kenny has afforded him. Now he and his brother get to wrestle with the notion of celebrity.

“My anonymity’s kind of disappeared in this country, but I hate the word ‘star’ or ‘celebrity,’” he says. “My brother and I have always said I just have a more recognizable head. I just have a recognizable fat head.”

Punk Rock Warlord

My review of Joe Strummer: The Future is Unwritten appears in the newest edition of Fast Forward Weekly.

Joe Strummer: The Future is Unwritten
By Andrea Warner

He became the poster boy for the punk movement, as famous for his politics as he was for his snarling stage presence. Now the lead singer of The Clash is the subject of Julien Temple’s fascinating but spotty Joe Strummer: The Future is Unwritten. While Unwritten effectively illustrates how a collection of moments can affect the zeitgeist of a generation, it never quite gets inside the mystery of the man himself.

Born to a diplomat father who was known for challenging authority, Strummer and his older brother David lived in five different countries by the time they were in grade school. Temple gets the details right and lingers for the perfect amount of time on some of the tough revelations, such as David’s suicide and Strummer identifying his brother’s body, all by the age of 18.

The large midsection of Unwritten is devoted to The Clash, and there’s plenty of volatile material here that should have been covered in an entirely separate film. Strummer’s politics provided the thrust of The Clash’s power-to-the-people message, but it wasn’t all he was. Yet Unwritten devotes more than half of its running time to The Clash’s hirings, firings and ego explosions, while the 10 years Strummer spent trying to exorcise that band from his system is wrapped up in about six minutes.

Referred to briefly as the “wilderness years,” Temple treads very lightly on Strummer’s own dark period following the breakup of The Clash, when he retreated from the public. The film hints that he may have become a preacher for a short time. Say what? This is the consistent frustration with Unwritten: the dots aren’t connected enough to fully realize Strummer as an icon and as a person. Friends, musicians and a variety of celebrities appear throughout the film, but Temple makes no attempt to identify individuals beyond their names, and offers no explanation about their connection to Strummer. It's distracting when Johnny Depp suddenly shows up, but it’s downright disconcerting when Matt Dillon comes aboard.

That said, Unwritten has plenty of momentum, and there are many reasons to recommend it. The imagery is wonderful and intersperses archival footage, fictionalized scenes, animations of Strummer’s art, scenes from Orwell’s Animal Farm and present-day interviews with a truly varied assortment of people gathered around campfires. Throughout, Strummer often acts as a narrator to his own life, with sound clips culled from interviews and his popular radio show, London Calling. Like The Clash’s music and the do-it-yourself punk ethos, Unwritten feels like it colours outside the lines of the traditional documentary form, and this is where it succeeds as a fitting tribute to the original “punk rock warlord.”