Independent Film of Summer 2013: The Way Way Back.

Fourteen miles. Counting the wrong turns and wobbly draw bridges that Chicago is famous for Russovoir bravely crossed; his feet painting the endless pavement with sweat and blood; the night growing colder and sinister. If there's a will, and a stubborn one he'll give you that, there's always a way and, The Way Way Back was as purpose-driven, purpose-walking in this case, as a headstrong missionary in transit.

Allison Janney (below) already placed the film in a good light ten, fifteen minutes through the film. Russovoir thought she was familiar, that she was in a prior film watched; surely out of boredom instead of interest because had it been, he would've finished the film to see the credits roll and at least, match her face to that frustrating film. Not until Russovoir went to IMDb that it struck him. Struck by Lightning (2012) was that film. Then it made sense. She was vaguely remembered because, not only Russovoir was on the plane only at the tenth hour of twelve - he's gotten impatient - the film was vapid and a rip off of Easy A (2010). What madness, he conceded defeat to sleep.

Goodness what digression. That sixteenth minute through the film, and until the end, it was a plot stimulant. Eyes glued to the screen, raving mouth in one minute, concave in another - fourteen what again?

"And no, don't come down."

Janney, together with Sam Rockwell (below right) - shucks, where does Russovoir even begin? - are a lollipop after a painful tooth extraction. Because the film is a tragedy. Call it the diary of a divorcee's son. And the beauty of this film, as it is enviably impressive, is how the 15-year old boy (Liam James, below left) copes with the drama in the household; that every cloud has a silver lining. That should be it, an outlet of happiness, even if you have to bike to it. Fourteen miles. The film didn't actually play with our emotions, making us happy and sad like that in one sitting. What it really did was give us an outlet of happiness as far as the film went. Timely in between scenes, just before our faces are hot to shed tears.

"I hate him. He said I'm a 3, out of 10."

Are you done, Russovoir? Oh no, I'm far from done.

"I knew that. It's a 10-step process."

It's all about the dialogue and delivery that makes The Way Way Back a successful comedy. While Steve Carell enraged us Sam Rockwell engrosses us. The charm of Rockwell was long forgotten in Charlie's Angels (2000), overshadowed by Hilary Swank in the inspiring Conviction (2010), that he was this familiar face yes, but who, how, these funny lines and antics admittedly work on an actor who isn't big in comedy (as Carell is). Surprising really, he's effectively funny with bare effort on it, like any known funny personality in Hollywood.

The same goes with Carell. He's effectively an asshole with bare effort, consciously setting aside that he's the big one in comedy.

It's as if these actors from their respective genres of strength switched places and called this project an independent one because no one knows how the market will take it. And putting it lightly, and here's to creative writing, the film rockwell. Effusively even more.

S-PITT-tacluar thriller-infectious.

"It's been so long since I've seen a good zombie film." posts a friend of Russovoir's on Facebook. He immediately liked it because what recklessness that decision was was the hollowness in the mind which World War Z filled to the brim as quickly as it was abandoned. The thrill was real, partly because Brad Pitt is too reputable not to be taken seriously. Much like his convalescing wife Angelina Jolie in her films. Most of the nail-biting thrill was from the palpable special effects. It's as if what was happening on the screen and the stillness in the audience, in the movie house are concurrently happening that what's probably waiting outside is only limited to one's imagination. A biological outbreak is not impossible, and that by itself made the film mortally terrifying. We held to the ominous idea that 'what if' it does happen to thirstily want to know how it ends, crossing fingers of a cure (and Brad must not die because Mother Nature is a female for a reason), as if like a manual for what should come.

"But it's not really a cure, it's a camouflage."

After when the body count just doubles, no, quadruples every minute; after when there's just a thin string of hope and the screen time of the undead are so frequent one begins to examine its authenticity, the twist jerks you back like a potent medicine with a parasitic kick. World War Z, indeed, is the much awaited zombie thriller when we really weren't consciously waiting for; the definition of an outbreak.

  

Feeling Lucky with The Internship.

Ever since Russovoir arrived in America, he thought his dream job of being a screenwriter for Hollywood is one step closer; that slowly, and while thickened by experience and inspiration by then, he will be handed a career opportunity among the stars; the luminosity of the deserving stars on which his pieces are the bright sources. But lately, life has managed to scorch that match head dream. Most flammable is that hope that which burns of passion and determination or hopelessness and complaisance, he's unsure now.

What The Internship did was burning a little longer the hope of passion and determination. Russovoir doesn't know how and when to get there, but one thing is inevitable, and the film unsolicitedly confirmed it almost obviously, and while divine intervention still plays a major role, Russovoir needs human intervention.

"You taught us how to be a team."

The film's humor is, Russovoir quotes Neha (Tiya Sircar), the smart and fun intern, "...all talk but nothing make sense." And the appearance of Will Ferrel was unnecessary and overwhelmingly off. The first twenty minutes, or until the first Google challenge, was a shut down. The chemistry between Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson was mirthless; Russovoir found himself in a lag and if it doesn't get any better, he swore to leave. But it did. Thank Google it did.

Sure enough, expected from its trailer, The Internship is an exclusive sneak peek of Google's headquarters, its employees and their enviable privileges, and how it's both grueling and fulfilling to be part of the team. And just like what the film tries to convey, which was inspiring, the film ultimately was good, safely decent, due to the performance efforts of Max Minghella, Dylan O'Brien, and Josh Brener. Although while Vaughn and Wilson's moments pull one down, these young stars pull one up with their antics and awkward personae (now that's funny); a tug of war of mood; the birth of the 'meh' hand gesture.

Superman: Cape of Good Plot.

"Man of Steel has an unprecedented storyline, as well-knitted and nonabrasive as Superman's skintight suit." - RUSSOVOIR.

Let us break down each phrase of this one-liner to better understand how Superman engrossed Russovoir; that the thirst of the fanciful existence of superheroes resurfaced within him like a common craving.

"...an unprecedented storyline;"

To silence Russovoir's conscience, yes, he felt the conflict was familiar from a couple of mainstream superhero films. Transformers: Dark of the Moon (2011), Battleship (2012), and the most uninspiring, and not because the first two were in the umbrella of vapid storyline - they're decent and gripping otherwise, The Avengers (2012). Taking that to his brewing frustration, however, Man of Steel has an unprecedented plot because the writers (Christopher Nolan as one) knew planet Earth's kryptonite. Emotions. Frustration turns salvation.

Robots, aliens, and five almost indestructible, predictably infallible A-team, whereas, Man of Steel has an antagonist, let's say a fleet of antagonist, despite advanced in weaponry and combat, is uniquely restrained upon entry to a world not habitable. Hence 'world engine' and 'terraformation'. They appear human, are human, only 'evolutionized' as survival mechanism from their unique environment.

"Evolution always wins."

"well-knitted..."

Like the Kryptons' world engine, the film's plot went even deeper, getting traditional and honest. A proud die hard fan of no superhero, Russovoir learned a lot about Kal-El's origin, its planet's demo, topo, and pyschography, and how Krypton and Earth coexisted where which everything fell into place, makes sense; morality adapted over time against those who intruded with none, and which must be superior; the cosmical manifestation of hope; the strength, the weakness, adams-el in distress; parental love, both biological and adoptive; patience, purpose, and principle; the situational metaphors weaved into the plot as inviting as the red and blue of the iconic superhero.

"...and nonabrasive..."

The film's unassuming and recollective style of storytelling exude ease and relatability, not of the desire of a superhero, but the personification of the once troubled kid turned resolute man in any and every way applicable to our lives, to society, to mankind. Russovoir dare says, we have already been, are, and have the potential to be, a superhero. Forget super strength. Power: super compassion.

"Did God make me like this?"

As for Henry Cavill, he has what Brandon Routh (Superman Returns, 2006) lacks and the predecessors lost over time. Charisma. It's about time they chose a fitting choice. Russovoir saw both vulnerability and indestructibility in his eyes, and that alone was a paramount advantage. To the casting agent who saw this first hand, easily, you're Russovoir's superhero. See, any and every way applicable.

HOUDINI'nt See It Coming.

"It's the oldest trick in the book.", Russovoir hears either Henley (Fisher) or Dany (Eisenberg), he couldn't tell, he was more concerned where the rabbit went - oh my god! He would've already known better after so many lazy late afternoon stumble upons of Breaking the Magicians' Code: Magic's Biggest Secrets Finally Revealed on AXN way back, but he always seems unsuspecting; he forgets, then doesn't know any better. The art of magic seems something always refreshing and alluring and inventive that, personally, it's a new, inviting experience on an old trick (done sparingly). Most especially, most unquestionably, if your magicians are beautiful people Jesse Eisenberg, Isla Fisher, Woody Harrelson, and Dave Franco (below).

The Four Horsemen.

Let us talk about Eisenberg in a while - so excited! But first, the plot - who are we kidding, let's talk about Eisenberg, and work our way to the plot. Like like like. Like ten thousand times had Eisenberg been a Facebook post. Jesse is a pleasure to watch, let alone hear on screen. Not only because he's a good-looking chap but also very in character to all films Russovoir has watched. Probably all, he dare says. Adventureland (2009), The Social Network (2010), 30: Minutes or Less (2011), Why Stop Now (2012), and just recently Free Samples (2012). So maybe not all; he's not the only good-looking, talented chap in Hollywood, is he? And Russovoir is not saying, not at all, no sir, he's not going to watch them all. Admittedly, you could say Russovoir is that 'lovely assistant' who does what the 'magician', Eisenberg, tells him to do; to watch every film he's in. So far, don't snap yet, just don't. Not even for the fraudulent Camp Hell (2010).

Bad reviews - poof! - disappear - Now You See Me has a brave plot. Accepted, the film felt hurried and at times dragging, and progressively farcical, it is, if you look close enough, however, smart; how it finally came together in the end and you're sitting there, hexed in emotions you didn't think your mind can draw at the same time: confusion, incredulity, and stupefaction; off one's guard to rashly remove oneself from its best interests, like a magic show you walked out from because you felt tricked. Because it is a one big trick, this film. The magic of the plot is divided into those who see the strings and those who don't; the latter obviously enjoys it most.

"Do you have a card in mind?"

Love Long and Prosper.

DISCLAIMER: Russovoir takes pride of taking a film with a pinch of salt. Although while accuracy of review is credible - more credible; throw a bone - had he been a Star Trek fan or had read the The Great Gatsby novel, and while Russovoir's focus is the cinematic aesthetics, including but not limited to, the plot presented and individual performances of actors present, too much salt is bad for your health.

The Enterprise.

Mysterious. Mysterious how Star Trek: Into Darkness is an aura of advancement light years away, seemingly infinite of steel gray and the automatic and the convenient; technical jargon that could've slowly detached and bored Russovoir, and yet, as if like a CT scan that sees through you, Russovoir showed signs of malign emotional reaction. How mysterious, billions of miles away, millions of years into the future Earth, the infinite world of Star Trek was somehow bottled up in the finite scope of human understanding. As if the vastness of the universe doesn't and will not make sense, isn't a stardust fascinating if there aren't human values orbiting around its unknownness, like a covalent atom into another covalent atom to deem valuable.

Surely Star Wars has their own thing going, and that's another story Russovoir couldn't possibly have the interest to dwell on. That being said, Star Trek: Into Darkness, together with the first installment, Star Trek (2009), kept its plot down-to-earth despite in space. The story is simple, not too simple to keep you interested; coherent, as if following the film's ecliptic story line; extrapolative - hear Russovoir out - where which the Star Fleet is the far, far future's Central Intelligence Agency (CIA). It took a while to realize that.

The Enterprise of Jay Gatsby.

Fabulous. Fabulous how American men dress in the 1920's. Affluent American men. Russovoir instantly picked up on it because he found himself on those men; the crisp suits, the ceremonious bow ties, the walk-on-water shoes, fine sweaters, iconic fedoras from which glossy hair is only for the wealthy. Hence a certain cosmetic hair gel was branded after the infamous, poor rich man, Jay Gatsby.

Reportedly a snapshot of the author F. Scott Fitzgerald's experiences on Earth, in America, in 1920's nascent New York, The Great Gatsby is a manifesto of the societal framework and convention in the male-driven, roaring Twenties. As frank as Russovoir is presumptuous, women in the 1920's, with their bobbed hairs and in short skirts, had bodies but no backbones, hence were called a 'flapper'; one who flaps to whoever man has the stronger pull. Indeed, they were a new breed.

Although while that was harsh, and probably it's intrinsic of a man to protect and a woman to be protected, the novel turned celluloid is comparable to Romeo + Juliet (1996); it could be one of the most tragic love stories ever told. And what is this, Leonardo DiCaprio plays Romeo too? It is no coincidence. DiCaprio, at 38, still got it. That ageless romeo-esque charm, only in this case, while as passionate, was classy, awkward, hesitant, suspicious and, as it's always been, fiercely in love. Jay + Daisy. Traces of Marilyn Monroe from My Week with Marilyn (2011) were felt on Carey Mulligan as the handle-with-care Daisy Buchanan. But since both women are broken in their perspective time periods, it can only make sense how it was reminiscent. Enviable, insatiable, delectable, the cinematography was - and God, those lavish parties! Then, like a gum losing its zing, the film numbs you at the end like your mouth overchewed and felt, used.

"Tell me what you don't like, I'll change it."

What failed to send the message across from what had seen, can be heard from Lana Del Rey's powerful Young And Beautiful (click it).   

 

    

Evil Dead Possesses You!

"Oh my God Russo! You're sick! Why are you enjoying this? Oh God, ewwww!", a friend of Russovoir wails, audibly overlapping the ominous sound, seconds before someone is out of limb again (figuratively and literally). It's true, Evil Dead is the most terrifying film you will ever experience. Russovoir thought at first it's bollocks since what really can a remake do. The 1981 original, from the hellion who scared us in ever coming across a wrinkly spinster begging for a loan in Drag Me to Hell (2009), Sam Raimi permitted the remake; for a film that centers on gore and the wickedness of your worst manifestation of a demon, what better time than when eye-writhing films that came pouring in over the last decade. The time is now. The time is perfect because, quoting an accolade, the film was near perfect.

How exactly do you play a demon incarnate? Russovoir is fascinated by Jane Levy (above). Were there any camera tricks, or was it all her? Either way, Russovoir is possessed with the idea of being possessed. Had there been camera tricks involved, it must've not worked as perfectly without still Levy's satan-on-your-face performance.

"The fucking book won't burn."

We'd like also to commend Shiloh Fernandez, Lou Taylor Pucci (above), Jessica Lucas, and Elizabeth Blackmore, with whom the film was neither overshadowed nor compromised. They have enough talent to withdraw pain and suffering and horror where make-up and a green screen could've deadened them. Then it makes sense to us. Comparing it to the grainy, dusty, paste-like, and rustic gore of the 1981 Evil Dead, the remake is a patient long overdue. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, run faster!" and "Oh my God that looks so real, it's amazing!" came gushing out as effusive as each time there's going to be merciless torture on each one of the characters. Have faith to lose faith altogether because - imagine the next line in a satanic voice - The Poltergeist is coming. Chant it.