Shutter Island review

The Gist:

"Shutter Island" is based on Dennis Lehane's novel of the same name. The narrative follows Federal Marshals Teddy Daniels (Leonardo DiCaprio) and Chuck Aule (Mark Ruffalo), who travel to the titular islet to investigate the mysterious escape of a patient from a Ashecliffe, a hospital for the criminally insane.

As the investigation unfolds, Teddy's traumatic past is slowly revealed, and it becomes apparent that the staff of Ashecliffe Hospital know much more than they're telling. It doesn't help that the two head physicians are played by Ben Kingsley and Max Von Sydow, who rank (among some of my ex-girlfriends) as some of the most potentially sinister people in all the world.

What's good:

Scorcese, but that's no surprise. He's been in the game so long that he can out-direct most of his competitors with his eyes closed. It's fun to see him apply his A-list talent to some satisfyingly B-movie material.

Every technical aspect of the film speaks to Scorcese's mastery of the medium. He knows exactly where to place the pieces and how get them moving in the right directions.

Also worthy of mention is our Li'l Leo. True, his facial hair looks like an arts and crafts project gone awry (too much glue, too little glitter), and he often appears to be playing dress-up out of dad's closet. However, DiCaprio is reaching the point in his career at which even the most vicious of naysayers can no longer legitimately deny his talent. The character he creates is sympathetic, complex, and unfailingly watchable. Incidentally, his German isn't bad.

Along with great lead performances, each and every ancillary character is nearly perfect. Emily Mortimer and Patricia Clarkson turn in some especially great work.

What's bad:

"Shutter Island" works very hard to misdirect the audience. In doing so, it sometimes gets ahead of itself. While some contrivances are made more understandable by some developments late in the film, there are some bothersome superfluities. Cinematic sleight-of-hand is essential in creating mystery, but so many moving parts sometimes make "Shutter Island" feel a little sloppy.

What's ugly:

A whole lot. The island is full of scary, bloody people. The winner has to be Jackie Earle Haley, who defends his title as the creepiest little dude in the movie business. Bruised and disfigured, he makes his single scene one of the film's most memorable and disturbing. As the conclusion comes into focus, the brilliant details of the scene become even more profound.

The Bottom Line:

"Shutter Island" has so many outstanding elements, but never quite reaches the excellence promised by the talent involved. In the end, it's like watching a group of Formula 1 superstars cruising around in Pow-Pow-Power-Wheels sports cars. These folks are experts and the pedal is on the floor, but the vehicle just can't bring them up to speed.

It's not Scorcese's best work, but as thrillers go, it's solidly above-average. Well constructed and featuring uniformly excellent performances, "Shutter Island" is popcorn film making at its best.

The Best Chat in the History of 'Merica

me: Sarah, did you know that last week, my friend and I bought 180 dollars worth of soccer apparel? Of course you didn't.

Sarah: I did.

me: YOU DID?!

Sarah: Of course.

me: Oh.

Sarah: Also. Weren't you going to offer to sell it to me?

me: Yeah,but here's the thing, I told you once, and I told you twice- I DO NOT deal in yen. Ever. It's JUST policy, Clark. Nothing personal. So if you can scrounge up some Euro,'ell, I'll even take Rupees. But NOT. Yen. Ever.

Sarah: Why are you racist? Against Asians? And please don't call them Japs anymore.
That was so 1943.

me: You WOULD make it about race. That's just like you. It's got nothing to do with race. It's all about perceived value.
If it takes me 40,000 of something to pay for a bag of chocolate skittles, I might as well be paying with bellybutton lint!

Sarah: Please don't try that again. Bellybutton lint is not a valid currency.
I have finally learned.

me: Yeah. That's one of those lessons you have to learn the hard way. I've been in the business long enough to know...and another thing - will you get your Private Investigator friend off my back?!
I know he wants in on the fireworks game but he's gotta be patient.Asians are poor when it comes to expedited shipping.I mean, ya know, the countries. Not the people.
I got nothing against the japs--ER, uh, japanese americans...the japanese.I have nothing against the japanese

Sarah: Nothing against them but resentment.When are you going to stop blaming them for your circus failures?

me: My circus failures? MY circus failures?! We both know that Ling-Ling was working for the Irish and that that line was not secure from the start.
And frankly, I think it's cruel of you to bring that up. You know my thorax still keeps me up at night.
Lawdy, between you and the IRA I'll never live this down.

Sarah: Oh I forgot to tell you.I now work for the IRA.My code name is Ling-Ling.
And it always has been.

me: I thought you were dead.Oh Ling-Ling. I'm so sorry. How can i make it up to you?
I've always loved you. From the start.
Ling-Ling...did the child survive? OUR BABEH?!

Sarah: Yes. She is tall now.I mean really tall.10' tall.She works in the circus.
Just like her ole dad.Did.

me: Is she tall? JUST tall? Or does she have the unfortunate disfigurements that so often accompany the tallness?

Sarah: She is beautiful.Even her third eye is lovely. Blue and green and shiny.
shining, rather. Just like the sea you left us by. When you deserted us for a trifle.
I couldn't believe you'd left me for a dessert.

me: I know, I know. I feel awful...mmmm feelwaful...falafel...but dear. did you TASTE the trifle? I mean, it was life changing trifle...


Plus I thought you were dead.

Sarah: You're always saying that when it's convenient for you. Like that time you thought I "died" in the grocery store when really I just didn't want you to buy that bag of frozen chicken wings because we already had three at home?
You know, some women's men tell them that they are second in their lives only to God.
In your life, I'm second to taste treats.

me: Oh Ling-Ling, you were never second. Third, in fact. Gotta remember fantasy curling. But how am I supposed to know you're alive when you don't even high five me after I beat the Frogger highscore at the YMCA?I mean, how can I even FEEL like a man without a high five every once in awhile? I mean, how many headaches can one person have? And why does that even interfere with highfiving? If I knew you wanted a high five, I would high five you from my death bed? I guess that's what I get for marrying an O'Rourke.

Sarah: Alright.Now you've gone too far. Just because the O'Rourkes have a genetic predisposition to having fingers on our foreheads doesn't mean you need to be getting all nasty about my family.We have good genes!
It's the O'Rourke in me that made me so musical! It's the O'Rourke in me that made me a good jigger! It's the O'Rourke in me that enables me to whistle with my ear that favorite tune of yours, the one that can make your calves unknot and your cows come home.

Ben: You know what really hurts? I don't know if i even WANT my cows to come home anymore.

Sarah: I hate to say it, Benxander, but you are the fairweather farmer
you promised yourself you'd never become.

me: I have become so many things I used to hate. The casual sportcoat over a trendy graphic tee. The reliance on predictive text. what have I become? A fairweather farmer, I guess. See, even my memory is going? And the question marks? The superfluous question marks?Sometimes I wish I died in that grocery store instead of you.

Sarah: I could make that happen, Ben. I could kill you in a grocery store. Then we would both be dead.

me: And all those chicken fingers would go to waste - WAIT -I'm sure our ten foot daughter could knock em out.

Sarah: Better to waste than on the waist as Papa O'Rourke always says.Our 10' daughter can do everything. She's magical. And imaginary. In that way, she takes after you.

Little Manhattan review

Spring is set to spring, and love is in the air. In Cache County, so are pollutants (it's an orange day.) Is there a difference? You decide.Two things are for certain: Valentine's Day is almost upon us, and it's rom-com time.

Somehow, I completely missed “Little Manhattan” when it hit theaters in 2006. It's a stealthy little movie; I only recently discovered its charm with the help of friends.

The brilliance of “Little Manhattan” is its independence from typical rom-com features. I am not opposed, in any way, to either romance or comedy. However, slap a hyphen between the former and the latter, and chances are, you'll get neither. Today's so-called romance comedies are increasingly crass, and decreasingly substantial.

“Little Manhattan” skillfully strips away some of the arbitrary trappings found in “adult” depictions of love, and in doing so, creates a rare and wonderful film that lives up to the promises of its genre.

The film tells the story of Gabe, a typical Manhattanite, who in the 11^th year of his life is blindsided by love. The object of his affection is Rosemary Telesco, a classmate and budding karate master.

As Gabe learns from the thrilling yet torturous new experience, he turns to his father Adam for advice.

Adam mentors Gabe in the nonsense of love, and begins to ponder the shortcomings in his own relationship with his emotionally estranged wife Leslie.

Pretty early on, it's easy to see exactly where “Little Manhattan” is heading, but you'll enjoy the trip.Mark Levin makes a strong directorial debut. Levin was a co-producer on television's “The Wonder Years,” and “Little Manhattan” shares in much of what made the series so appealing. The tone is warm and whimsical, and there is a clear sense of emotional morality. It occasionally veers into the realm of manipulative, but some funny moments and the familiar absurdity of Gabe's inner dialogue keep it from becoming too sugary.

If you have some time this weekend, give “Little Manhattan” a chance. If you've got somebody, share it with them. If you don't, share it with yourself. Either way, you'll find plenty to love, and plenty to hope for.

In a cinematic culture that teaches us to believe that relationships are about sex, or secrets, or meeting the parents, “Little Manhattan” reminds us that sometimes, love is about knowing when to hold somebody's hand.