Archive for 2월, 2010

A trusted elder once passed o…

일요일, 2월 28th, 2010

A trusted elder once passed on to me a piece of his own half-assed, misanthropic brand of "wisdom" concerning gender relations–namely, that all a man wants is sex and all a woman wants is money. (Confucius he was not, obviously.) Oddly, the last place you would expect this bogus sentiment to be rebutted is in Albert and Allen Hughes' documentary

American Pimp

, which gives the skin trade's upper-management ranks the once-over. Seems that, as far as this film is concerned, men just want cash too. And as for women–well, who the hell knows what they want, since the directors keep comments from a handful of sad-eyed, rouged worker bees to a minimum.

Instead, the Hughes brothers (

Menace II Society

,

Outright Presidents

) pinpoint their lens on a passel of considerably more positive personalities, allowing garrulous, flashy, publicity-craving macks to have their say. And while the filmmakers' softball questioning hints at a unstated support of (if not an esteem for) the brokering of flesh, various street sages with names ask preference Payroll, Bishop Don Glamour Juan, Rosebudd, and Trickalicious (alright, I made that mould one up) indulge in a nonstop, swift-fire patois of boastful drum that only serves to turn them enough the ins with which to hang themselves.

They call the philosophies they've honed while on the grift "pimpology," the details of which basically confirms every way-out playa stereotype imaginable. These Dapper Dans sport swanky, outlandish fashions that vulgarly reflect capitalist excess (gilt-trimmed Versace suits, alligator shoes, jewel-encrusted pinkie rings, talonlike fingernails and broad-brimmed chapeaus). The phrase "get me my money" is an oft-repeated incantation, but the words "bitch" and "ho" pop up in nearly every sentence these gentlemen spit out (and, hey, if you don't like it, it must be because you're a "square"). And their attitudes toward their labor force reflect pretty much what you'd expect: misogyny coupled with the threat of violence. The prostitutes are likened to thoroughbreds and are expected to be clever enough to sweet-talk a horny john, but they aren't regarded as fiscally savvy. (Typically, the women front 100 percent of their earnings to the pimp, who in turn provides professional guidance, financial assistance, and protection.) As one player chillingly claims, "I didn't steal nothing but a bitch's mind."

The Hughes brothers try to lend their examination of the pimp mystique some credibility by attempting to place the phenomenon within a historical context (citing, of course, Mary Magdalene, and Bishop Don badmouths God as "the biggest pimp of them all"). However, the filmmakers rely on their bullshit-artist interview subjects for expert testimony, rather than consulting a bona fide historian. Ultimately,

American Pimp

is a glittery, engaging look at a subculture only occasionally glanced at in the mainstream. But because the filmmakers obscure some key perspectives and eschew others altogether, it's likely viewers are getting taken in for the big con. After all, we're privy to only half the story.

I still remember my first impr…

금요일, 2월 26th, 2010

I still remember my cardinal stamp of Claude Chabrol. When I started getting interested in foreign cinema and read about things like the French Contemporary Sway, Chabrol was (and still is) always cited as the most Hitchcockian of his Hitchcock-loving cohorts. So, with the first two films of Chabrol’s that I managed to put my hands on, This Manservant Must Die and The Unfaithful Wife, I was altogether surprised to find that he worked on a level very odd from Hitchcock’s commercial thrillers and aimed against a much more intellectual tone.

1994’s L’Enfer is about a Paul (Francois Cluzet- Chocolat, Late August, Early September) and Nelly (Emmanuelle Beart- Manon of the Spring, 8 Women) Prieur, an attractive couple with a young child who run a small lakeside resort. Paul is a hard working, self made man, and Nelly is a beautiful, care free, and supportive wife. But the stresses of maintaining their life and business woes are getting to Paul and making him increasingly anxious. When he begins to notice spots in the day when Nelly is unaccounted for, incriminating situations, and the glances of other men, Paul suspects his wife of infidelity. He begins to follow and question her, but in the absence of any solid proof, Paul creates delusional scenarios and begins to listen to the suspicious voice in his head.

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Not surprisingly, the results are excellent when you have a first rate cast and lead actors, an expert director, all working from as script by another master suspense film maker, Henri-Georges Clouzot (Le Corbeau, Diabolique, The Wages of Fear), who actually attempted to make the film in 1964 but never completed it due to setbacks ranging from replacing his lead actor to a heart attack.

L’Enfer is a film I can relate to, and, no, not because I hear voices in my head. I can, in my relationships, be a jealous, suspicious person. It is a flaw I have deeply examined and more or less determined comes not so much from personal insecurity as much as a pessimistic view of human nature. The Nelly/Paul dynamic reminds me (again, without the schitzo element) of the relationship I had with my first girlfriend. Although virginal, she unwittingly exuded sexuality and I had a hard time dealing with the fact that her attractiveness drew so much attention. It was this uncontrollable force, that in the end, I could not contend with. Nelly appears much the same way, she is spritely and looks like she pheremonally oozes sex. For the pressured Paul, this slowly spirals into the madness of paranoia and delusion. In his mind, he creates a sex siren image of his wife, complete with flirtatious eyes and purring voice, and no matter how he tries to reign his sanity in, the obsessiveness of jealousy overwhelms him.

So, there it is, a beautiful couple, an idyllic life, but from the very first frames there is that intangible presence of the weight of doubt. It grows and grows. Paranoia consumes. L’Enfer is a fantastic film about the brute, monestrous nature of jealousy. Chabrol is subtle with the ways he shows Paul’s increasing madness, including shifting from reality to Paul’s POV, which many reviewers misinterpreted as real and therefore questioned Nelly’s fidelity. It becomes pretty clear, perhaps more so with a second or third viewing, that Paul is insane, and though Nelly may playfully toy with his suspicions at first (before she realizes he is bonkers), she is very much a devoted wife. And, that voice in his head? Well, it is not even his own. The madness itself speaks to him. He tries to argue. He tries to deny it. But it may already be too late. That is the mystery we’ll never know.

Il Ladro di bambini (1992)

목요일, 2월 25th, 2010

What is it about Italian neo-realists, even in this day and age, which drives them to film their view of the corruptions of society thoroughly the eyes of a child? Sentimentality, it is possible that. Amelio’s film, at any have a claim to, soon falls amoral of maudlin worthiness as it recounts the allegation of two kids – the 11-year loved girl (Scalici) a prostitute – charmed away from their nurture and entrusted to a cop (Lo Verso). As he escorts them from Milan to Sicily after an orphanage in Rome refuses to accept the girl, the pair calibrate arrive to be captivated by and be loved by their leery guardian. Decently acted, but alarmingly bereft of originality or analytical insights, it’s a closely-interpretation dirge of a movie.

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Never Talk to Strangers review

월요일, 2월 22nd, 2010

What if your mom told you not in any way to talk to strangers and the stranger was Antonio Banderas?

What would you do? What would Mom do?

You can see that problem confronting Rebecca De Mornay as Sarah Taylor, the criminal psychologist heroine of Peter Hall’s engaging thriller “Never Talk to Strangers.” De Mornay is an ice blonde in the Hitchcock tradition of Janet Leigh and Tippi Hedren. She plays Sarah as an immensely capable professional woman who has a successful career and a peaceful, uneventful private life with her cat in their modest Manhattan apartment. From the outside, she appears to be the picture of self-confidence and mental health. Even when forced to share an interview room with a serial killer (Harry Dean Stanton) attempting to beat the rap with an insanity plea, she remains cool and unruffled. And if that isn’t enough to convince us that the doctor is not someone easily dissuaded from her point of view, we see her turn away her own father (Len Cariou) when he drops into town on business and asks if he can crash on her sofa.

When Sarah first bumps into Tony, played with extravagant Latin charm by a tattooed, long-haired Banderas, she makes mincemeat of him—almost. But she can’t help but be coaxed into dropping her guard, especially when he begins to display his knowledge of wines. After he offers advice about a particularly good bottle at the store where they meet, she calls his bluff.

“Do I look like the kind of woman who can be bought with a good vintage?” she snaps.

To which Tony responds, after the briefest of pauses, “You look like the kind of woman who has to be won.”

This does it for the doc. Before the cork on the bottle is dry, Sarah throws caution to the wind, embarking on a wild affair with a man she knows almost nothing about. This section of the film is probably the most satisfying, perhaps because we get to watch Banderas and De Mornay roll around together without any clothes.

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Though the script—by Lewis Green and Jordan Rush—is sloppy and conventional, and the thriller plot consists primarily of infuriating red herrings, these two ravishing stars do manage to generate some real intensity together, both in bed and out. As luck would have it, though, strange things begin happening to Sarah almost as soon as she starts seeing Tony. First, it’s just a matter of phone calls and disturbing letters; then it’s dead flowers, and, later still, other dead things.

Naturally, Tony becomes a prime suspect. As the movie develops, a theme—of sorts—begins to emerge. Because of a tragic accident resulting in the death of her mother, Sarah can’t seem to open up to anyone.

This is really just so much psychobabble, though. Hall is far more interested in delivering the simple, straightforward pleasures of a thriller. And even with its feeble script, that’s pretty much what “Strangers” accomplishes. As always, Banderas seduces the camera as easily as Tony woos the well-defended doctor. And De Mornay does an affecting job of suggesting the tiny fissures of mental damage underneath the mask of professional imperviousness.

As a director, Hall—who is legendary in England for his theater work—mostly gets out of the way. He can’t triumph over the problems in the script, or tie up all the loose ends, but his brisk, competent approach does minimize the effects of these flaws. But your mother was right—you should never never never talk to strangers. Okay, just this once.

Never Talk to Strangers is rated R for nudity, adult situations and dead kitties.

Like it Is review

금요일, 2월 19th, 2010

This so-so anything else high point gets away with casting Behr as a disco diva and Daltrey as an amoral list company boss. Amazingly, it’s not camp. Rather, it’s a surprisingly heart-breaking love story between a Blackpool virgin (Bell) and an up-and-coming auteur (Rose) who shows him the ropes in the old smoke. Polished to the bottom of blandness, but heartfelt nevertheless.

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Bedtime for Bonzo review

화요일, 2월 16th, 2010

BEDTIME FOR BONZO
(director: Frederick De Cordova; screenwriters: from the story by Ted Berkman
& Raphael Blau/Lou Breslow/Val Burton; cinematographer: Carl Guthrie;
editor: Ted J. Kent; music: Honest Skinner; irregularity: Ronald Reagan (Prof. Peter
Boyd), Diana Lynn (Jane Linden), Walter Slezak (Prof. Hans Neumann), Lucille
Barkley (Valerie Tillinghast), Jesse Unsullied (Babcock), Herbert Heyes (Dean
Tillinghast), Harry Tyler (Breckenridge); Runtime: 83; MPAA Rating: NR;
grower: Michael Kraike; All-encompassing Pictures; 1951)

"Its unemotional name, Ronald Reagan,
survived playing right hand banana to a chimp to become the 40th President
of the United States."

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A Dumb sitcom comedy set around the premise that the environment
is more important than genetics in raising a child. It's directed without
spark by journeyman filmmaker Frederick De Cordova ("Peggy"/"Katie Did
It "/"Here Come the Nelsons"), who is better known as the longtime producer
of television's The Jack Benny Show and The Tonight Show starring Johnny
Carson. It's only lasting claim to fame is that its bland star, Ronald
Reagan, survived playing second banana to a chimp to become the 40th President
of the United States. It's Disney-like bad, but not so bad that it doesn't
have some entertainment value for being so cuddly cute–but funny it's
not. The premise for the story came from a real-life study by Yale professor
of psychology Robert Yerkes; Ted Berkman developed the story with his writing
partner Raphael Blau. 


It's set at Sheridan College, a fictional college in Connecticut,
where psychology professor Peter Boyd (Ronald Reagan) and science professor
Hans Neumann (Walter Slezak) save recently brought to America from Africa
lab baby chimp Bonzo (Peggy) from suicide. This coincides with ex-con Breckenridge
informing the college's dean, Tillinghast (Herbert Heyes), that Professor
Boyd's father was a career con man convict that he shared a prison cell
with. This doesn't sit too well with the genetic-minded dean, since Boyd
is engaged to his haughty daughter Valerie (Lucille Barkley). To disprove
that criminal tendencies may be hereditary, so that the dean will relent
and let his daughter marry him, Boyd decides to raise Bonzo in his home
as if he were a human child. This calls for hiring a nursemaid, Jane Linden
(Diana Lynn), a pretty maternal single 23-year-old who is attracted to
Boyd. The three become a nuclear family with Jane as "momma" and Boyd as
"poppa." Valerie is left in the dark about the experiment, but when she
gripes that of late he's always not available Peter informs her of the
experiment. Months later, after a few at home incidents where the police
were called, Peter prepares to address the Psychological Society with his
findings that Bonzo is now a moral being. At the same time, Dean Tillinghast
tells Hans that he has sold Bonzo to Yale's biomedical research facility.
Things take a different turn when Bonzo steals a diamond necklace and Boyd
gets the blame until Bonzo is convinced by Jane to return it to the store
display window. Everything ends on a happy note when Jane and Peter realize
they were meant for each other and tie the knot. We know things are fine
with Bonzo because the dean beams with pride that the chimp brought prestige
to the small college and there's a sequel in 1952 called Bonzo Goes to
College (directed by De Cordova but without Reagan, Lynn or the original
Bonzo, who died in a zoo fire shortly after the film was released).


REVIEWED ON 8/24/2007        GRADE:
C+

Part supernatural thriller, pa…

일요일, 2월 14th, 2010

Part supernatural thriller, part New Age priestly theatricalism, this twin from the director of Patch Adams can’t decide what it wants to be. Costner looks crestfallen as bereaved husband Dr Joe Darrow. His saintly wife Emily was killed in an mischance while working for the Red Irritable in Venezuela, and to the distress-signal of friends and colleagues, Joe grows convinced she’s trying to contact him from the beyond. The title refers to an insect-shaped birthmark on Emily’s snub (pointedly shown in flashback) and to her knick-knacks and dragonfly appliances, which spookily begin to hurl themselves off shelves. Emily was, we’re told, a kindly, loving soul, but you wouldn’t separate it from her attempts to contact Joe from the mettle humanity. Shadyac resorts to the straightforward of the horror genre to develop suspense, leading to an unholy fuse of Ghost’s mawkish pan-dimensional romance and Exorcist-style jar tactics. The ’surprise’ ending is as predictable as it is a long time after time coming.

Drive review

목요일, 2월 11th, 2010

Comedy-drama. Starring Ellen Barkin, Debra Monk and Jennifer Jason Leigh.
Directed by Todd Solondz. (Not rated. 100 minutes. At Bay Area theaters.).



“Palindromes” is the product of an ugly vision of life and of people. This
vision is hardly sophisticated, in the sense of depth or intricacy, but it’s
compelling in its relentlessness and purity. Writer-director Todd Solondz,
though capable of sympathy and of rendering moments of heartfelt delicacy,
seems, like a cinematic Diane Arbus, incapable of presenting people without
judgment. He can’t not see what he sees, and he can’t not present what he sees
in the way that he sees it.

The consciousness at work here, grounded on a set of essentially self-
protective philosophical misconceptions, seems ultimately too narrow, closed-
off and turned in on itself to produce great art. Thus, to the extent that
“Palindromes” aspires to be a statement about life, it fails. Yet in another
way, the movie succeeds resoundingly, in that through it Solondz expresses and,
in a sense, preserves what we might reasonably infer to be his inner life.
Moreover, he does so with guts. There’s no concession, no compromise, no
penlight in the endless night, no joy and no hope in “Palindromes.” Despite
its subdued tone, its pessimism is something brutal.

It’s about a 13-year-old girl who wants nothing but to become pregnant
and have a child. The girl, Aviva — the name is a palindrome, spelled the
same backward and forward — is shy and seemingly love-starved, despite an
attentive mother (Ellen Barkin).

The girl’s story is told over a series of episodes, and in each episode,
the actress playing her changes. In one long section, Aviva is black. In
another, she’s still 13 but looks about 40, as played by Jennifer Jason Leigh.

The parade of actresses is more or less a gimmick, but it serves a couple
of functions. Using different actresses allows Solondz to emphasize particular
emotions and qualities in several scenes, to good effect. Changing Avivas also
creates a double sense, both of the common nature of Aviva’s experience and of
her specific unimportance. It distances us, causing us to look at Aviva, not
as a standard protagonist, but coldly, as a specimen of anonymous human misery.

“Palindromes” is torturously slow at times, but it’s often fascinating.
To function in the world, according to Solondz, one inevitably enters into a
lie. To do anything but remain in a state of emotional paralysis, one must
construct a false personality that eventually prevents one from ever again
locating even the most basic truth.

For example, Barkin plays a mom who genuinely tries to help her pregnant
daughter, but her every move is based on a monstrous selfishness and
narcissism. What’s interesting is that she seems to know it and to be trying
to work against it, but she can’t locate any truth inside herself. There’s
nothing real anymore. The place of purity is lost.

Given Solondz’s worldview, it’s no surprise that he would connect
metaphorically with the issue of abortion, which gives impetus to the main
plot line. His treatment of the issue is unflinching and will upset people on
both sides.

“Palindromes” isn’t a wise movie, or a particularly true movie, but it’s
an honest one and a singular experience.

– Advisory: This film contains violence and simulated sex.

– Mick LaSalle



POLITE APPLAUSE

Daybreak

Drama Starring Jakob Eklund, Ann Petrén and Magnus Krepper. Written and
directed by Björn Runge. (In Swedish with English subtitles. R. 108 minutes.
At Bay Area theaters.).

It’s hard to see close-ups of couples bickering in Swedish and not think
of Ingmar Bergman. Although the master had nothing to do with “Daybreak,” his
influence is felt in this brooding saga of angst in a cold climate. You can
practically feel the chill coming in from the North Sea.

In the very first image, a surgeon operates on a damaged heart, an
appropriate prelude to a film in which the lives of numerous unhappy people
are laid out. They run the economic gamut from the doctor, Rickard (Jakob
Eklund), who is cheating on his wife, to a bricklayer, Anders (Magnus Krepper),
who rarely sees his family in his continual struggle to support them. Rich
and poor alike, they’re all looking for an escape hatch. To the extent that
this difficult but ultimately rewarding film has a message, it’s that you
can’t run away from who you are.

Director Björn Runge deserves credit just for keeping the multiple
stories straight. He jumps around from one household furnished in Scandinavian
modern to the next almost identical one. But his segues are seamless, and
there’s never any confusion about where you are.

Occasionally the characters’ lives intersect, once literally at an
intersection where one of them is almost mowed down by vehicles driven by two
others. Rickard carries on a passionate affair with the wife of a doctor at
the same hospital. His colleague discovers it and exacts an elaborately cruel
punishment. An aging couple hires Anders to brick up all their windows and
door, a bizarre request resulting from their estrangement from their only
child.

Eklund and Krepper bring an appropriate somberness to these men leading
lives of quiet desperation. The film gets a jolt from Ann Petrén’s raucous
performance as Anita, who can’t forgive her husband for leaving her for a much
younger woman. Seeking revenge, Anita lets herself into the couple’s home,
which used to be hers, and, like a deranged Martha Stewart, criticizes the new
wife’s housekeeping practices. “You still have the summer curtains up, and
it’s almost winter,” she screeches.

The quiet Swedish suburb where “Daybreak” is set is a regular Peyton
Place with all the wife swapping that goes on. Guess people have to do
something to stay warm.

– Advisory: This film contains sexual content.

– Ruthe Stein



POLITE APPLAUSE

Fighting Tommy Riley

Drama. Starring J.P. Davis. Directed by Eddie O’Flaherty. (Rated R. 109
minutes. At the AMC 1000 Van Ness, and Presidio Theatre.).

The sweet science seems to be one of pop culture’s favorite metaphors
lately: Clint’s “Million Dollar Baby” cleaned up at the Oscars, Sly Stallone’s
reality TV show “The Contender” won out against “The Next Great Champ,” and
singer-songwriter Aimee Mann climbed into the ring this week with her boxing-
themed concept album, “The Forgotten Arm.” Now, in this corner, the indie
upstart, “Fighting Tommy Riley,” and if it fails to land its big final punch,
it’s still a contender.

In an aptly “Rocky”-esque twist, the movie was written by unknown actor J.
P. Davis, who refused to sell his script unless he could play the title role.

Davis — imagine a Van Damme who can act, a gloweringly charismatic
Abercrombie with total K.O. cheekbones — plays Tommy, a short-fused, self-
destructive young boxer who has all but abandoned his dream of going for the
big time (he blew it at the 1999 Olympic trials).

Tommy’s raw talent is recognized and set free by a Melville-quoting, gone-
to-seed trainer, Marty Goldberg (veteran actor Eddie Jones, never less than
convincing in a lived-in part that’s packed with pathos), an old-school ex-
boxer who grabs this last chance and returns to life with Tommy’s gradual
success and friendship.

But Marty’s got his own (not-so-shocking) Secret, and where most boxing
movies pay off with the stock scene of the underdog’s climactic bout, the big
round in “Tommy Riley” is a queasily confused emotional standoff between
mentor and fighter.

Working on a microbudget, director Eddie O’Flaherty coaches solid
performances from his small cast and makes the most of the handful of up-close,
well-choreographed fight montages. Working with digital video,
cinematographer Michael Fimognari paints the gritty gyms and dingy apartments
in moody blues and somber ochres.

– Advisory: This movie contains violence, rough language and sexual
content.

– Joe Brown



POLITE APPLAUSE

Drive

Action comedy. Written and directed by Sabu. In Japanese with English
subtitles. (Not rated. 100 minutes. At the 4-Star.).

If you haven’t entered the eccentric comic world of the filmmaker known
as Sabu (nee Hiroyuki Tanaka), “Drive” is an excellent starting point, even if
it seems it could have been a little stronger.

A former actor and singer, Sabu’s films inevitably involve an innocent
everyman (usually, as here, played with an expression of perpetual shock by
Shinichi Tsutsumi) who by pure chance falls into a plot of elaborate mayhem.
This time, Tsutsumi is a salaryman, Asakura, who is carjacked and kidnapped by
three bank robbers and ordered to pursue a fourth man, who has escaped with
the loot and the getaway car.

Trouble is, Asakura has spent his whole life playing by the rules, and
that includes following the speed limit and all traffic signs, and even
mastering that increasingly lost art that the old-timers once called a turn
signal. So the man with the money gets away, but becomes trapped by literally
a hole in the ground. The other three criminals are at first angered at
Asakura, but later come to like him.

As they drive through Tokyo, experiencing the spectrum of Japanese social
life, they become less and less interested in the missing money and more about
how they can fulfill their happiness without it. One, played by dependable
character actor Ren Osugi, is an anti-drug crusader who joins a punk rock band
to get his message across.

There are also the ghosts of samurai and several uses of a baseball bat,
but that would be too much to explain. It eventually does make sense in Sabu’s
quirky world.

– Advisory: This film contains scenes of comic violence and language.

– G. Allen Johnson

Seamless (2005)

월요일, 2월 8th, 2010

The Movie

If reality TV favorite “Project Runway” is any indication, the fashion world is one driven by greed, motivated by fear and stocked with people who would just as soon step on your throat as help you out – Seamless, director Doug Keeve’s follow-up to 1995’s Unzipped, paints the cutthroat world of couture in slightly rosier shades, but it’s undeniable: you’d better come ready to play if you want to make it in this fast-paced industry.

Charting the exploits of a handful of young, up-and-coming designers vying for an award doled out by Vogue magazine and the Council of Fashion Designers of America, Keeve’s camera tracks 10 finalists as they cut, sew, sweat, freak out and solve crises in pursuit of the potentially star-making award. Along the way, Keeve takes some time out to let the likes of Vogue’s Anna Wintour and Vera Wang expostulate on the business of being fashionable – while it gives Seamless star power, it somewhat detracts from the quartet of perfectly compelling stories. Clocking in at a brisk 75 minutes, Seamless certainly doesn’t overstay its welcome, but I almost wouldn’t have minded spending a little more time exploring the complexities of the fashion world through the eyes of these relative neophytes.

Seamless is a fleeting, fly-on-the-wall documentary, primarily exploring the ascent of four promising designers, competing for a once-in-a-lifetime chance to make their mark upon the ever-fluid world of fashion. Director Douglas Keeve does a fine job sketching each of the competitors, but sidetracking himself with established stars saps a bit of the film’s power – it’s not a film that lingers but for those who salivate over clothes, this might rocket to the top of your must-see list.

Sideways review

금요일, 2월 5th, 2010

A week before his wedding, Jack (Thomas Haden Church) and his friend Miles (Paul Giamatti), determined off for a week of Californian wine tasting and golfing. That’s the delineate. But in the interest of this scarcely middle aged odd couple, the bet is far more hazardous in the contrast stops – where they handle women like Maya (Virginia Madsen) and Stephanie (Sandra Oh). The guys have totally different takes on love and lust: wine buff Miles, soundless conflicted thither his divorce of two years earlier is all trepidation, but for Jack, this is a happy go lucky last bed-hopping hurrah. The alliance is put under tendency as they receive in inconsistent directions, and the wine, women and song drill turns into a complicated, painful trip the light fantastic toe.