Film Review: Hugo

One wouldn't think the acclaimed director of such films as Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, Good Fellas and The Departed would have much interest in telling a kid-friendly fable of a 1930s-era orphan boy living in a Paris train station. But once you realize said fable centers around French film pioneer Georges Melies, the juxtaposition makes perfect sense.

Based on Brian Selznick's 2007 young adult novel The Invention of Hugo Cabret, Martin Scorsese's 22nd feature opens on a breathtaking panoramic shot of downtown Paris and quickly takes us inside the hustle and bustle of the city's sprawling locomotive depot.

From behind one of its many towering ornate clocks, we spy 12-year-old Hugo Cabret (Asa Butterfield) eying an elderly shopkeeper's (Ben Kingsley) wind-up toy mouse. As the shopkeeper nods off, Hugo sees his opening and springs into action through the catacombs of the station and soon is standing before the napping merchant ready to snatch his prize. As he reaches, the shopkeeper awakens, grabs Hugo and demands he empty his pockets of all the other items he's stolen from the man in the past.

Amongst the pilfered gears and gadgets is a notebook containing sketches of a mysterious mechanical man Hugo and his clockmaker father had been fixing before the elder Cabret's death. The shopkeeper demands to know who drew the sketches and when Hugo refuses to answer, absconds with the notebook telling the boy he's going to burn it.

A terrified Hugo follows the old man home and soon he's enlisting the help of the shopkeeper's goddaughter Isabelle (Chloe Grace Moretz). Matters are complicated when Hugo discovers a key that hangs around Isabelle's neck fits the mechanical man. Investigating further, the pair come to realize the aging shopkeeper is actually visionary silent-era filmmaker and inventor Georges Melies, long thought dead since the end of World War I.

It seems Melies fell out of favor after the war and to survive was forced to live the remainder of his life in obscurity behind the counter of his depot shop. With the help of an admirative film scholar, Hugo and Isabelle set out to prove to Melies that he and his extraordinary creations still matter.

Scorsese is right at home in Selznick's world. Working with frequent cinematographer Robert Richardson, he embraces the period and setting whole-heartedly, employing all his considerable visual talents to dazzle us with the sumptuous details of the Paris station and its lovable, bumbling characters.

But it's his depiction of Melies' early life and films (including the seminal A Trip to the Moon) that truly makes Hugo a Scorsese picture. These images beautifully capture the birth of cinema and the sense of awe and wonder early films must have instilled in turn-of-the-century audiences. They reminded me of ones found in 2004's The Aviator and are clearly the product of someone deeply in love with the art of motion pictures.

Hugo is still a family movie at its core, though, and there's enough action and humor to keep the kids sufficiently entertained through its 127-minute running time. I saw the film in 2D and can only imagine all the treasures jutting out at you in 3D.

Butterfield and Moretz have nice chemistry as Hugo and Isabelle and Ben Kingsley infuses Melies with the perfect balance of intensity, warmth and creativity. Emily Mortimer and Christopher Lee provide nice supporting work as fellow station shopkeepers and Sacha Baron Cohen is marvelously effective as the weaselly station inspector.

Martin Scorsese's Hugo is a delightful valentine to imagination and the art of cinema and should inspire and enchant audiences for years to come.

Blu-ray Review: American Graffiti

My mom loves to tell the story of the first film I ever saw in a movie theater: I was three and my parents plopped me down in an aisle seat, handed me my own Coke and popcorn and anxiously waited for all hell to break loose once the lights went down. Instead, I sat there still as a board for the next two hours, quietly eating my snacks and staring wide-eyed at the mesmerizing, larger-than-life images before me. That film was American Graffiti.

Needless to say George Lucas' 1973 valentine to the smalltown culture of his Modesto, California youth remains a very personal film to me. But its appeal goes beyond just being my inaugural movie-going experience. Graffiti perfectly captures a time and place that most anyone can relate to: that crossroads between youth and adulthood where you can either step out from the comforts of home and begin a new journey of self-discovery or retreat back into the familiar embrace of loved ones, fond memories and routine.

It's September 1962 and four friends are facing a rite of passage. Steve Bolander (Ron Howard) and Curt Henderson (Richard Dreyfuss) are spending their last night in town before heading back east for college. Steve is a popular jock raring to get out and feels the need to shed all teenage attachments, including his cool car and high-school sweetheart Laurie (Cindy Williams); Curt is a scholarship kid who suddenly isn't sure he's ready to leave home; he's more interested in revisiting the past and tracking down a mysterious blonde (Suzanne Somers) who's been blowing kisses at him from a white Thunderbird. Terry "Toad" Fields (Charles Martin Smith) is the pimply-faced dork of the group who suddenly gets a shot of courage when he inherits Steve's car and picks up a fresh-faced girl (Candy Clark) walking home; and tough guy drag racer John Milner (Paul Le Mat), worshipped by all three, is quickly realizing his stint as a local legend is coming to an end.

All the principles give endearing, career-sparking performances and Mackenzie Phillips, Bo Hopkins, Wolfman Jack and Harrison Ford provide memorable supporting roles.

Graffiti arrived at the tail-end of the counterculture in America. Disenchanted by the Vietnam War and Watergate scandal, people were ready to revisit the simpler times of their youth (the sock hops, the muscle cars and neon-lit diners) and flocked to the film in droves. One component that made it so appealing was the film's use of classic radio hits of the era instead of a traditional symphonic score.

Recently released on Blu-ray by Universal Home Entertainment, American Grafitti truly benefits from the high-definition format. Newly remastered and presented in its native 2.35:1 aspect ratio, the film sparkles anew in glorious 1080p: the neon, the gloss on the cars, everything just pops against the nighttime setting. Film grain is preserved, no DNR on display here, and it maintains the film's period look perfectly. It's definitely an upgrade over the 1998 DVD.

The Blu-ray features a DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 track and both the dialog and music are crisp at minimal levels.

Extras include two of Universal's proprietary U-Control features that you can access via small icons as the film is played: a picture-in-picture video commentary by George Lucas and The Music of American Graffiti which instantly identifies what classic song is being played. Additional material includes a 78-minute making-of documentary, screen tests and a theatrical trailer, all carry-overs from the 1998 DVD.

With its sweet reminders of yesteryear and universal themes on growing up, American Graffiti envelops you in a soothing blanket of nostalgia and Americana you just can't help but want to snuggle up against, regardless of what decade you grew up in. It's truly comfort food for the eyes as well as the soul.


American Graffiti (1973)
Remastered Special Edition Blu-ray; Universal Home Entertainment
Running Time: 113 minutes
BD-50; VC-1 Encoded @ Average 30 MBPS
Audio: English DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0; French DTS Surround 2.0 Mono
SRP: $26.98
Picture: A
Sound: A
Extras: A -
Worth Upgrading Over DVD: Yes

9/11: A Day We Will Carry For The Rest Of Our Lives

It started out like a normal enough Tuesday. The alarm went off at 5:30 AM PST, my wife (then girlfriend) got up first, as she always does, then about 10 minutes later I rolled out of bed and headed for the shower. As the hot water slowly brought me back to life, I thought about my pending day. At that time, I was a marketing manager for a small travel publisher in Southern California and my schedule on the 11th of September 2001 was fairly light: a 9:30 AM production meeting with the rest of the time set aside for working on our forthcoming 2002 product catalog. As I had spent most of that summer traversing the country on business (Washington D.C., Chicago, stretches of Route 66, California Gold Country in 100-degree heat) I welcomed a quiet, uneventful day in the air-conditioned office.

As I stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, my wife poked her head inside the bathroom, handed me a cup of coffee and said: " A plane has crashed into the World Trade Center.” I put on my robe, and headed out to the living room where the Today Show was on TV. The top of the North Tower was full screen and a smoking, ragged hole was cut across the width of the structure. There were no visible flames or wreckage, just eerie, smoky blackness. The current report was that possibly a small aircraft, a Cessna or a Piper Cub, had lost control and slammed into the building. As it was shortly before 6AM in California, I remember thinking at least it was still early and no one was probably in the building yet. The image remained the same for several minutes. There was no sense of urgency or panic by any of the on-air reporters at that time. It just seemed like a terrible accident, nothing more.

I went back into the bathroom and continued getting ready for work. About 10 minutes later I walked back into the living room for an update and the South Tower was now ablaze after being struck by another aircraft at 6:03 AM PST. Reports were coming in from eyewitnesses that these were large planes, possibly airliners. The on-air reporters' voices now crackled with anguish and panic. It all had become suddenly clear: America was under attack.

My wife and I, stunned and a bit confused, forgot about getting ready for work, eating breakfast, anything really, and sat down on the couch to watch this nightmare unfold before our eyes. The screen now contained two horribly damaged, iconic symbols of American might standing side by side. Flames were now visible eating through the interior structure of both towers. Tattered paper and debris filled the surrounding air, floating listlessly to the ground. People could be seen inside hanging out windows and waving white flags. The time stamp in the corner of the Today Show broadcast read LIVE 9:20 AM EST or thereabouts and for the first time it dawned on me that the workday had already started in New York and that the towers were full of thousands of people.

Reports were now coming in that two passenger jets, both out of Logan Airport in Boston and bound for cross-country destinations, had possibly been hijacked and that they were the two aircrafts that had plowed into the towers. I remember feeling a sudden sense of dread and vulnerability at that second, like some indescribable evil has just sat down beside me. Then at roughly 6:40 AM PST reports begin to filter in that the Pentagon had just been struck by a low-flying aircraft. Soon there was a split screen of the towers and one side of the DOD headquarters engulfed in flames. My only thought was: My God, what was happening?

This unbelievable, chaotic image would not change for the next 20 minutes or so. Reports were now coming in that this was possibly the work of Osama bin Laden. Then, at approximately 7:00 AM PST, our eyes glued to the screen, the South Tower began to fall, going straight down in a cloud of ungodly smoke as if it were strapped to an express elevator. My wife and I both let out a gasp of horror and the pit that had slowly formed in my stomach over the last hour quickly tightened and suddenly a flood of sorrow filled my heart. The resulting cloud of ash and debris that engulfed the entire area was unlike anything I ever witnessed in my lifetime. It was a wonder the North Tower was still standing.

That thought didn't last long as the the North Tower plummeted to the ground approximately 28 minutes later, now doubling the unfathomable destruction below. I had only seen pictures of the atomic bombs dropped on Japan in 1945. I was now witnessing our own Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

Smoke, fires and people caked in ash, screaming, filled the screen for the next hour. In that time, reports came in that United Flight 93 out of New Jersey had crashed in a rural Pennsylvania field, most likely hijacked as well. The FAA had halted all civilian air traffic, ordering everything still in the air to land immediately. Four planes had now been used to kill thousands on American soil. I had heard the word terrorism for decades but didn't really know what it meant until that day. Was it over or was this just the beginning?

It was getting close to 9:00 AM PST and my wife and I knew we had better get into work. We reluctantly dressed and carpooled the seven miles to our offices (we worked about a block away from one another at the time). As I walked into my area, the atmosphere was unusually quiet. A few people were visible talking, but for the most part the place was eerily quiet for 9:30 AM, people no doubt hunkered down in their offices or cubes perusing the Internet for new information. I sat down and did the same, ignoring my scheduled production meeting. I felt like I had been struck in the gut repeatedly. I was anxious and found myself letting out deep breaths to release the tension. I stayed in my office for most of the day, talking maybe to a handful of co-workers in that time as they walked by. Not one of them discussed business. The phone rarely rang and when it did I picked up and found it hard to hold in my contempt for people who actually wanted to talk about travel products.

10 years later, my anxiety and contempt may have quelled, but a day hasn't gone by that I haven't thought about the fateful events of that Tuesday morning. I am reminded every time I travel, turn on the TV and hear a report on Afghanistan or Iraq, look at the clock at precisely 9:11 or scan expiration dates at the supermarket. And every time I see pictures or video of the planes slamming into each of the towers, it's like I'm seeing it for the first time. I stop and again my heart floods with sorrow. Every time. And while hopefully one day the conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq will end, I know the others things won't and I'm all right with that. Never forget.

25 Years of Stand By Me

I wasn't supposed to like Rob Reiner's Stand By Me. I was 15 going on 16 in the summer of 1986 and had little interest in seeing a movie about a bunch of 1950s-era 12-year-olds slogging through the backwoods of Oregon in search of a dead body, even if it was based on a Stephen King short story. I had hated The Goonies and Explorers the previous summer, quickly writing off both as unfunny, borderline intolerable kiddy fare. I was more interested in testosterone-infused action movies like Top Gun, Aliens and Raw Deal.

Maybe it was the overwhelmingly positive reviews. Maybe it was the enticing R rating. Whatever the case, I relented and dragged my butt to the local five-plex one sultry August afternoon and instantly fell in love with four goofy tweens.

Stand By Me opens on a middle-aged man (Richard Dreyfuss) sitting quietly in his car along a deserted stretch of road. Deep in thought, his eyes pass to an obituary of a man fatally stabbed. As he begins to narrate the story of the first time he saw a dead human being, we're transported back to the small town of Castle Rock, Oregon, circa 1959.

It's the Friday before Labor Day and 12-year-old Gordie Lachance (Will Wheaton) is making his way to the tree house he and his friends have been hanging out at all summer. After gaining access with the secret knock, we meet Chris Chambers (the late River Phoenix) and Teddy Duchamp (Cory Feldman). Both are tough-talking, cigarette-smoking misfits, a stark contrast to Gordie's quiet and reserved demeanor. Soon the pudgy, dim-witted Vern Tessio (Jerry O'Connell) arrives and asks the trio if they want to go see a dead body. It seems Vern's older, equally doltish brother and a buddy know where to find the remains of a missing local boy who disappeared earlier in the year.

Bored and eager for one last summer adventure, the four grab their sleeping bags and set out to claim the body and become heroes. Little do they know, Vern's brother and his gang, led by the menacing Ace Merrill (Kiefer Sutherland), have the same idea.

What sets Stand By Me apart from similar films of it kind is the honest complexity of its characters. These four boys aren't one-dimensional brats without worries and witticisms to spare: they're damaged, frightened kids unsure of what awaits them once they step out from the fading twilight of childhood.

Gordie has lost his older brother, is ignored by his parents and thinks his natural ability as a storyteller is a waste of time; Chris knows he'll never be able to shake his "bad seed" reputation and is destined to live a crappy life in Castle Rock forever; and Teddy, with his deformed ear and obsession with war, lives in the shadow of his "loony," institutionalized father.

We all know kids like these, grew up with them. And while I can't say I used the "F" word at 12 as frequently as these guys do (the film is rated R solely for language), they all have such an easy, natural relationship with one another, you can't help but want to go back and spend a lazy summer afternoon discussing the physical attributes of Annette Funicello with them.

Both Wheaton and Feldman shine as Gordie and Teddy, displaying remarkable range for performers their age. One minute they're ensconced in childlike goofiness, the next they're baring their soul in a raw outpouring of emotion.

The standout here, though, is Phoenix. This may be Gordie's story to tell but it's Chris Chambers who is the steady hand and wise-beyond-his-years conscience of the group. Just 14 years old at the time of filming, Phoenix masterfully breathes a quiet toughness and vulnerability into Chambers, molding him into a truly one-of-a-kind character we'll remember forever. (Such was Phoenix's talent that he would earn an Oscar nomination just two years later for Sidney Lumet's Running on Empty. )

The real praise, however, should be reserved for actor-turned-director Reiner who took four virtually unknown, mainly inexperienced kids and elicited these incredible, indelible performances, forging a timeless coming-of-age film that speaks as strongly today about youth and finding your place in this world as it did 25 years ago and will 25 years from now.

There's a line at the end of Stand by Me that has always stayed with me: "I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, does anyone?" Indeed.

Stand By Me is available on 25th-Anniversary Blu-ray and Special Edition DVD.

Five Autumn Films Worth Falling Over

Well, the book has just about closed on yet another Hollywood summer. It was an interesting one to say the least. We had some hits (Super 8, Captain America), some misses (Tree of Life, Green Lantern, Cowboys & Aliens) and a few welcome surprises ( Midnight in Paris, Rise of the Planet of the Apes).

But now, as the days grow shorter, the kids head back to school and the sequels and superheroes are returned to the toy chest until next year, Hollywood takes off its beer-can-sipping hat, slips on its awards beret and begins a four-month-long process of trotting out a cavalcade of smaller, more original character-driven films that will hopefully translate into, fingers crossed, Oscar gold.

Nearly 100 films will jockey for your attention from now until the end of December. Below are five that look the most intriguing (at least to me).

The Big Year ( Oct 14) - Steve Martin, Owen Wilson and Jack Black star as participants in a cross-country rare-bird-spotting competition. The premise sounds like a snoozer, I know, but with these three involved it has that kind of Christopher Guest/Wes Anderson vibe I just can't resist.

J. Edgar ( Nov 9) - If you caught Leonardo DiCaprio's masterful portrayal of Howard Hughes in 2004's The Aviator, you know his turn as the legendary father of the FBI should be nothing short of mesmerizing. And with Clint Eastwood calling the shots, prepare to hear about this film until at least the end of February.

The Descendants ( Nov 23) - Alexander Payne's first film since 2004's Sideways stars George Clooney as a Hawaiian tycoon whose life begins to unravel after learning his coma-stricken wife was having an affair. Payne is a master of melding drama and comedy into truly original, unforgettable films. Can't wait.

The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo ( Dec 21) - The trailer for David Fincher's adaptation of Stieg Larsson's worldwide bestseller is electrifying to say the least. That's good news as I found the novel's premise compelling but quickly grew tired of Larsson's laborious prose.

War Horse ( Dec 28 ) - A Spielberg-directed World War I drama featuring a John Williams score. Do you really need to know more?

Five more that look promising: Gavin O'Conner's Warrior ( Sept 9), Bennett Miller's Moneyball (Sept 23), George Clooney's The Ides of March (Oct 7), Martin Scorsese's Hugo (Nov 23) and Steven Spielberg's The Adventures of Tintin (Dec 23).

Going Ape: A Look Back At The Planet of the Apes Saga

With Fox's Rise of the Planet of the Apes opening today, I thought it might be fun to look back at the original five-film saga that thrilled sci-fi-hungry audiences from 1968 -1973. (We'll leave out the 2001 Tim Burton-directed reboot, as for the life of me I can't remember a thing about it.)

Yes my valued readers under 20, there was actually a complete Apes franchise before most of your parents had completed grade school. If they didn't see it in theaters, they probably discovered it the same way I did: through videocassette, Saturday-afternoon TV and questioning why all the Halloween aisles were filled with ape masks.

Below you'll find all five tales in order of release. Read on and you'll have something to dazzle Mom and Dad with at the dinner table, in between texts of course.

Planet of the Apes (1968): Based on French novelist Pierre Boulle's 1963 novel Monkey Planet, the first and best Apes film stars Charlton Heston, in all his machismo glory, as astronaut George Taylor who travels forward in time and crash lands on a planet where humans are ruled by apes. Befriended by two chimpanzee scientists, Zira and Cornelius, Taylor ultimately learns he has returned to Earth some 2,000 years in the future. A true classic of sci-fi cinema.

Beneath the Planet of the Apes (1970): Sure it's hard to follow a classic, but this was the best they could come up with? Another astronaut crash lands on Ape Central in search of Taylor, befriends Zira and Cornelius and finds a group of humanoids living underground worshiping a nuclear missile. Heston makes a cameo but it's not enough to save this unwatchable turkey, the worst of the saga. The budget was cut in half just before shooting and it shows: with the exception of Zira and Cornelius, every ape looks like it's wearing a store-bought mask.

Escape From the Planet of the Apes (1971): My favorite behind the original and a return to form for the franchise. Zira and Cornelius escape their home world before it is destroyed and travel back to present-day Los Angeles where they are received as celebrities. While there, Zira gives birth to a son who becomes the target of a nefarious government advisor. Loads of humor and a shocking ending make this a film worth revisiting.

Conquest of the Planet of the Apes (1972): The darkest and most violent of the saga. 20 years after the events of Escape, apes have become conditioned servants in human society. Tired of their abuse and oppression, Zira and Cornelius' son, Caesar, organizes his simian brothers and leads a revolt against the government. A frighteningly effective episode, made even more so at the time by the social and racial strife of the early '70s.

Battle for the Planet of the Apes (1973): The final film of the series takes place 27 years after the events of Conquest and finds human society laid waste by the war with the apes and nuclear fallout. Caesar has forged an ape civilization that attempts to harmoniously co-exist with human survivors. That all becomes threatened, however, by a band of well-armed mutant humans looking to take their revenge on Caesar and eradicate apes once and for all. A satisfying, thought-provoking conclusion to the saga.

Film Review: Cowboys & Aliens

Cowboys & Aliens asks an intriguing question: how would the gunfighters and settlers of the Old West, with their primitive weapons and philosophies, fare against advanced invaders from another world?

Based on Scott Mitchell Rosenberg's 2006 graphic novel, Cowboys opens on a stranger (Daniel Craig) as he awakens in the Arizona desert circa 1873 with a nasty gut wound and a strange metal contraption around his wrist. He's barely able to soak in his predicament before three unsavory types arrive on horseback, mistake his new bracelet as a wrist-iron and assume he's of value to the law. Faster than Billy the Kid on his best day, the stranger dispenses of the men, pilfers their weapons and clothes and heads for a nearby town on the horizon.

That town is a small mining hamlet called Absolution and it doesn't take long for the stranger to publicly humiliate a smarmy brat named Percy Dolarhyde (Paul Dano) and catch the attention of Sheriff John Taggart (Keith Carradine). Taggart recognizes the stranger as one Jake Lonergan, a notorious killer and bandit, and promptly locks him up, with the help of local woman Ella Swenson (Olivia Wilde), to await transfer to the federal marshal. Lonergan can't remember a thing about his past, including how he came about his fancy new hardware.

Word of Lonergan's capture gets back to Percy's father, Colonel Woodrow Dolarhyde (Harrison Ford), a powerful rancher and Civil War veteran, who supposedly had a cache of gold swiped by Lonergan and his gang sometime back. As Dolarhyde and his men ride into town to procure Lonergan from the law, strange lights descend from the night sky and begin snatching up people, including Taggart and Dolarhyde's son, while laying waste to everything in their path. It's about this time that Lonergan's bracelet begins to light up and soon he's blown a hole through his cell and using the device to bring down a huge, insect-looking ship flying overhead.

As the invaders flee, it becomes obvious to Dolarhyde and the remaining citizens of Absolution that they're going need Lonergan and his special weapon if they're ever going to see their abducted loved ones again. All Lonergan cares about, however, is finding out about his past.

It's surprising with all the talent behind the camera - director John Favreau, producers Ron Howard and Steven Spielberg - how pedestrian and uninspiring Cowboys & Aliens is. Fantastical elements aside, you've seen this movie and its characters a hundred times before. The script is standard and predictable, quickly replacing its brief bits of humor with one dull exchange after another. And when the aliens finally reveal themselves, they look like rejects from Cloverfield, Super 8 and every other alien-invasion flick of the last five years.

Craig is compelling as an Old West gunslinger, providing a quiet, untapped menace that would be fun to explore in a more original endeavor; Ford delivers his lines in his now-trademark growl and seems to be finding his character as if at a table-read instead of in front of the camera.

The premise asks an intriguing question indeed. Unfortunately, the answer Cowboys & Aliens provides is neither fresh nor of consequence to either genre.