The Dodos: No Color (Release Date: 3-15-2011)

        Nothing confounds a critic so much as a favorite. There's no getting around the fact that we all have a few. Some artists just speak to you on a gut level, making them seem better than, in all likelihood, they actually are. No one is immune to the feeling. Everyone, serious critics included, can name off a creator (or creators, for than matter) who simply have their number, and there's not a whole lot of use in denying it. With all of that said, I now set out to impartially judge the newest offering from one of my very favorite bands, The Dodos.


        Visiter, the duo's 2008 release, still strikes me as one of the most criminally over-looked releases of the last several years. Weighing in at fourteen tracks and just narrowly under an hour in length, that album was stuffed to the brim with rampant creativity, and limitless hooks. By comparison, their 2009 effort, Time to Die, feels a bit slight, nine tracks and forty-five minutes long, with many of the group's eccentricities scaled down, though not as absent as many have suggested. Anyone who would call No Color a rebound of sorts probably didn't give Die enough of a chance before shelving it for good, but there's no question that the band's fan base was desiring something a little more weird and wild this time. 


        The album opens up with lead single Black Night, a tune that instantly displays the band's preternatural abilities in the fields of rhythm and melody. As if in direct response to those who were put-off by his reduced importance in Time to Die, percussionist Logan Kroeber takes center-stage as the song begins, pounding away on his drums with furious militance. By comparison, frontman Meric Long's guitar part almost sounds meek, but the way that he playfully fits his lyrics into the song's almost non-existant sonic cracks is a joy to behold. It's all Dodos per usual, instantly and uncontrollably catchy, building and building before stopping right in its tracks, getting to work on follow-up track Going Under before you even know what hit you.


        Going Under, along with the subsequent Good, is both blessed and cursed with one of the band's signature moves: The mid-song transition. Long and Kroeber have always been fans of squeezing multiple sections into one track's runtime, a tendency that gives their music a spontaneous, unpredictable allure, but also makes it difficult to readily distinguish one track from another. Shifting from the verses' gentle gallop, to the swooning romance of the chorus, and finally the thunderous intensity of the song's second half, there's no questioning the fact that Going Under is made out of good parts; just how well those various parts play along together is another discussion entirely. Visiter's fourteen tracks permitted the boys to fit in all of their ideas without ever feeling crammed. I suppose that there are worse things to fall victim to than having an abundance good material, but it does leave a few songs here feeling a bit faceless.


        Since Time to Die, The Dodos have under-gone a few changes. Departed are short-time members Joe Haener and Keaton Snyder, as well as indie super-producer Phil Ek. Newly arriving is tour-mate and vocalist Neko Case, an addition that proves about one-forth as influential one might expect. Her most prominent moments are right in the album's center, serving as one half of the lovely harmonies that carry both Sleep and Don't Try to Hide It. The rest of the disc uses her vocals like most bands use their bassist: An extra little sound only discernible through close listening, and a trained ear. Consider it a lesson learned; having strayed away from what made them successful in the past, Long and Kroeber now know to split the spotlight equally between each other, and not let anyone else effect their sound too drastically. Case is a wonderful component of the songs in which she contributes, largely due to the fact that she's never offered the opportunity to over-power them.


        Simply put, the song-crafting formula that The Dodos have created is a thing of wonder, as it allows both of the band's members that play as though the attention is all on them. Both Long and Kroeber are extraordinary at their respective instruments, a fact readily attested to by their whole discography, and bolstered by the fact that the two play together as though they came from the same womb. How else could Long's speedy string-picking and Kroeber's rat-a-tat drumming on album closer Don't Stop, combine to make a thing of such intricate beauty? Same goes for the half-rock, half-ballad, fully-realized When Will You Go, and the playful shuffle of Hunting Season. With a sound so enveloping and distinct, I can't imagine The Dodos ever releasing a sub-par LP, and this one is no exception. As speedy and addictive as it is studied and gorgeous, No Color is another rock-solid addition to The Dodos' canon, and though it's likely to be saddled with unflattering comparisons (even by me) to the knock-out that is Visiter, only a scrooge could deny that this is some really, really good stuff.


Grade: B+

Battle: Los Angeles (Release Date: 3-11-2011)

        Los Angeles has a pretty tough time on the big screen. Whether it be Michael Bay or Roland Emmerich, the city that spawns just about every movie career out there is constantly rewarded by being leveled, invaded, and generally dominated by everything that a blood-thirsty director can dream up. With Hollywood pummeling the world with Aliens/Monsters/Disasters on the regular, it seems a bit curious that the destruction is so concentrated between two cities (New York and L.A.). But here we are again, a little less than a year removed from Skyline's irrefutable failure, watching the martians have their way with the city of angles.


         Having finally had it with the wear and tear of Marine life, Staff Sargent Michael Nantz (Aaron Eckhart) has filed the papers, and requested his release. Unfortunately for him, Los Angeles finds itself in trouble on the very day of his retirement, and he is thrown into action to assist in the evacuation of Los Angeles in the face of an impending meteor threat. Within moments of meeting the men with whom he will serve, Nantz and the boys discover that their foe might just be animate, and hostile at that. Confused and frightened expressions on their faces, the boys are flown in via helicopter, and forced to fight an enemy they never could have anticipated.


        The first step in making this sort of widespread disaster movie is figuring out how to distinguish yourself, and Battle: Los Angeles has a pretty interesting solution. Unlike every other Alien Invasion flick known to man, B:LA is a war movie first, skimping on the sightings of other-worldly visitors in favor of intense, on-the-ground action sequences. I won't be the first or the last to compare its line-of-fire visuals and style to Black Hawk Down, confusion and hand-held camera footage running amuck at every opportunity. Director Jonathan Liebesman knows just how create these scenes, about an hour and a half of the movie's two hour runtime being devoted to expertly staged segments of war mania, all believably rendered on the urban streets of Los Angeles.


        That's what the movie does right, and seeing as this accomplishment makes up the vast majority of the film, I feel compelled to give Battle: Los Angeles at least a somewhat favorable grade. What's holding me back from giving it a higher one is... well, everything else. To say that the movie is riddled with cliches would be like calling nachos cheesy. Writer Christopher Bertolini has somehow found a way to fit each and every single war movie touchstone into just one feature-length film. You wanted about seven rousing, mid-battle speeches? You've got 'em. Hankering for a father desperate to save his son (Michael Peña)? This is your flick! Kinda bummed about not seeing anyone enter the line of fire while his wife is pregnant back at home for a little while? Break your dry spell right here! I would suggest a drinking game inspired by every moment that B:LA drums up another cliche, but I'm not really looking to have any alcohol poisoning related deaths on my hands.


        The acting is fine, I guess, not that it really matters when such eye-rolling material is coming out of their mouths. Eckhart proves a serviceable hero, Ne-Yo doesn't embarrass himself in his transition from pop to film star, and Michelle Rodriguez plays the only character she knows, this time with quite a bit more clothing. Battle: Los Angeles plays like a mash-up of any number of movies that you've already seen (Cloverfield, District 9, War of the Worlds) with a a whole lot of Marine Recruiting Commercial thrown in for good measure. As a fan of both the big and the spectacular, I found myself enjoying it while it was on the screen, though a more disposable movie would be hard to find. 


Grade: C+

Rango (Release Date: 3-4-2011)

        I'm sure there was a time when this wasn't the case, but for as long as I can remember, family-oriented entertainment has always strived to appeal to adults and children alike. It's a difficult task, as the two groups are clearly on different mental wave-lengths, and Pixar remains the only American animation studio who knows how to create stories that immediately apply to both demographics. Others are more apt to hand plot, morals, and visuals to kids, while throwing in a joke or two that only their guardians can understand. It's an uneasy mix that often leaves movies feeling a bit off-balance, but it's a problem that Rango knows just how to solve: Make your kid's movie exclusively for adults!

        Johnny Depp stars as the titular chameleon who finds himself marooned in the middle of the Nevada desert. With the help of a sagely armadillo (Alfred Molina), he finds the town of Dirt, a lawless western location populated exclusively by animals who all tout a relentless verbiage that wouldn't be the least out of place in the Coen Brothers' True Grit. The gruff and tough towns-people have a real problem on their hands: Their weekly water supply has come to a halt, and their existing store is dwindling quickly. Seeing an opportunity to finally define himself, the chameleon takes on the name Rango, and swears to bring water back to Dirt, having no idea of the troubles that await him.

        Rango could be described as a lot of things: Meta-Movie, Existentialist Quest, Western Homage, among others. One thing that it absolutely cannot be described as, however, is a kid's movie (Because if there's one thing I know about kid's movies, it's that they don't feature Hunter S. Thompson, even if he is animated). If the frequent use of unfamiliar language and relentless references to movies released decades ago weren't enough, Rango has just enough violence and frightening imagery to do the trick. In the last few years, movies like Coraline and Where the Wild Things Are have prompted people to ask when exactly a kid's movie just ups and stops being what it's called. In Rango, we finally have an answer, and though I can't help but be a bit disappointed in the marketing team for how many faces of youthful bewilderment they just sent into theater parking lots, it sure makes for an interesting viewing experience for all those above five feet in height.

        There are no bones to be made about the fact that Rango is a beautifully animated movie, straddling the line between Motion-Capture and traditional animation to create a visual pallet all to its own. Director Gore Verbinski, who has a knack for helming successful movies for which his name is not remembered (The Pirates of the Caribbean Trilogy, The Ring, the under-rated The Weather Man) will likely have his credit stolen again here by Depp's voice, but it's not for lack of effort. His ability to create mad-cap energy without needing to floor the gas petal is at work once again, rendering the proceedings with all of the singularity and oddity that one hopes for. His impressive knack for action-scenes also shines through despite the change in mediums, shoot-'em-ups aplenty proving visually compelling, and excitement inducing.

        Depp might still have a little ways to go as far as voice-acting is concerned, but there's no doubt that he's at least trying to create a character other than himself, an effort that most celebrity voice-work can't honestly claim to. He doesn't have the most to work with plot-wise, as Rango is far more interested in its visuals and its citations of cinematic classics (a huge portion of its basic storyline is cribbed from Chinatown, for crying out loud. Has your eight-year-old seen Chinatown?) than it is with molding a compelling tale. This general disinterest with connecting dot A to dot B can lead a viewer's mind to wander on more than one occasion, but when you're staring up at this type of visual candy, not to mention Hans Zimmer's killer Spaghetti Western score, it's hard to be too disappointed. Like most movies that are experimental in nature, Rango is pretty uneven and under-developed, but it's status as a fun watch is nearly unquestionable, and those with a sturdy background in film history will get a kick out of it. Just make sure to call a babysitter before you see it.

Grade: B-

Take Me Home Tonight (Release Date: 3-4-2011)

        I'm never sure exactly how much weight to place on originality. Sure, it's the stuff that classics are made of, and most pieces of art that establish themselves as people's favorites do so by blazing their own trail. But on the flip side of that, is there not also a lot to be said for following a plan to perfect execution? Is it not amazing to be previously exposed to something, and yet still find its reincarnation captivating? It's an important question to ask, especially in this context, as your liking of Take Me Home Tonight will be determined in large part by your valuation of marching to the beat of your own drum.

        If one were to put every John Hughes and Judd Apatow movie into a giant pot and boil them all together, there's little doubt that Take Me Home Tonight would be the eventual product. Set in the year 1988, the movie follows Matt Franklin (Topher Grace), a recent MIT grad whose chronic indecision on what to do with his life has resulted in once again living under his parents roof, and working at Suncoast Video. Franklin sees a glimmer of hope when he is visited at work by his High School crush, Tori Frederking (Teresa Palmer), and invited to a party later that night. What follows is the classic all-in-one-night, coming-of age narrative, obsessively observed down to the smallest rhythm and detail. To put it lightly, the flick belongs in the Unoriginal Hall of Fame, somewhere near the entrance.

        It's likely this level of unapologetic imitation led to the movie being shelved for as long as it was. Shot a whopping four years ago, the fact that Tonight is only just now making it to the big screen is quite the slight to the efforts of all involved, and while its certainly understandable, it's not entirely deserved. Wadding through the movie's swamp of cliches is an extremely likable cast, rounded out by a subtle Anna Farris as Matt's short-story writing sister, and Dan Fogler as his manic, over-weight best friend. The four are all slipping into roles embodied iconically by countless performers before them, and though their acting chops might not be worthy of the sleep-over mainstay status of their predecessors, they're all charming and easy to watch in just about every scene. Bolstered by tickling supporting performances from the likes of Chris Pratt, Michelle Trachtenberg, and Demetri Martin, any success that Tonight can claim to is thanks to its cast.

        Tonight is the kind of movie that defies criticism by virtue of establishing an identifiable target audience. The young people at the movie's center make jaded pop-culture references, some drugs are done, some sex is had, and the thing wreaks of yesteryear pinning. If you're a sucker for this sort of thing, which, admittedly, I am, then you might as well not listen to the haters. Sure, its glaringly familiar, and the script has a few lines that elicited mocking laughter even in my sparsely populated theater, but if this one sounds like your type of thing, then it is. You want gaudy 80's clothing and hair? You're in luck! You want a soundtrack full of unfairly forgotten 80's jams? This one's got just the thing! Looking to watch something that you've never seen before? Well, you're out of luck there... like, really, really out of luck. If an 80's nostalgia fix is what you need, this one is practically unmissable. All others should be advised to stay away.

Grade: C+

The Adjustment Bureau (Release Date: 3-4-2011)

        It's near impossible to think of anyone who has influenced movies so much as Philip K. Dick without ever being involved in their production. The novels of the famed science fiction writer have been made into movies that include, but are certainly not limited to, Blade Runner, Minority Report, A Scanner Darkly, and Total Recall. Dick's writings almost always skew slightly dystopian, using analogy to dissect the problems with the modern world, and the impending hang-ups of tomorrow. They're rich themes, but taken into the wrong hands, their serious intentions can be molded and warped into something like Paycheck or Next. The Adjustment Bureau is the latest attempt to make the man's ideas work on the silver screen.

        Matt Damon stars as David Norris, a young and brash New York politician who is running for senate as the movie opens. Late into election night, he stumbles into an alluring and forward woman (Emily Blunt) who is busy hiding from building security at the time for fear of being punished for crashing a wedding. The magnetic pull between the two is both instant and undeniable, and though the they fail to exchange any information, fate brings them back together on a public bus. But the Adjustment Bureau aren't the type to let fate run rampant. Soon after exiting the vehicle, Norris is swept away into an abandoned warehouse by the fedora-clad clan of the movie's namesake, where he is informed that their group is in charge of making sure that a 'larger plan' is executed, and dissuading those who slip off of their respective paths. Unfortunately for Norris, meeting the girl of his dreams was doing just that, and the rest of the movie turns into a war of wills between a man who's not willing to forget a girl, and a god-head who's determined to keep them apart.

        Despite its intriguing premise, Bureau actually has a few things working against it from the get-go. The movie was pushed back half a year from its original release date of September 17th, 2010, not quite the kiss of death that it was once perceived to be, but not to be confused with a vote of confidence from the studio. The movie is also written and helmed by first-time feature director George Nolfi, and a Dick adaptation is pretty slippery intellectual territory for a rookie film-maker to find himself in. It comes as a relief then that The Adjustment Bureau is by no means a disaster, but calling it a soaring success would be equally misguided. Nolfi's direction is crisp, clean, and aesthetically pleasing, but he seems overwhelmed in his attempts to manage the movie's many thematic shifts. Pitting multiple scenes of undying love next to pulse-raising action sequences isn't usually what one would call a reliable plan, but a more experienced craftsman might have been up to the challenge. Nolfi does his best, but his inexperience shows.

        Without a doubt, the brightest feather in The Adjustment Bureau's cap is the chemistry between its two leads. While Damon occasionally struggles with a pretty ham-fisted script, his scenes with Blunt never fail to affect. The two rattle off their lines as if engaged in actual conversation, making doughy eyes and wild smiles at one another in an endearing enough way to warm up an otherwise cold movie. Their romance over-powers the film's philosophical musings to the degree that the sci-fi aspects start to feel beside the point. Norris seems remarkably unflustered by learning definitively of a domineering higher power, his only real concern being how he can still land the girl. As this is his only concern, it becomes the audience's as well, which would be an easier thing to stomach had the central conceit of the story not been so juicy. What do you get when you mix the accomplished, the uninspired, and the mediocre? You get average, which is pretty much what The Adjustment Bureau is.

Grade: C-

Lupe Fiasco: Lasers (Release Date: 3-8-2011)

        Unlike the creators of just about every other type of music, a hip-hop artist must have something to say. Where other genres prove primarily reliant on melody and song structure, an MCs main product is his or her word, and the way that they express themselves. Coming up with enough valuable things to say to make an album every couple of years has got to be a real grind, which is probably one of many reasons that you rarely see a rapper continue to produce music passed their thirties. Three years after 2008's Lupe Fiasco's The Cool, Wasalu Muhammad Jaco has finally found enough to say to string together another LP, known simply as Lasers.

        Like Kanye West's My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, Lupe's latest stands out from the pack by virtue of its reduced number of tracks, in this case twelve, without a skit in sight. The shrunken runtime speaks to a thematic and sonic focus that's quite a bit more refined and ambitious than your average Rap record. Into this more tightly-woven world, Fiasco inserts lyrics about the problems of today, calling out Glen Beck and Barack Obama within a stretch of three seconds, claiming that the war on terror is, "...just another excuse for you/to use up all your bullets." Toss in a few tales of self discovery, and an anecdote or two about impoverished youth ("I would give up everything/even start a world war/for these ghetto girls and boys/I'm rappin' 'round the world for"), and you've pretty much covered all of your 'underground hip-hop' lyrical bases. I'm sure the guy means it, but it still strikes me as a bit trite.

        What can not be so easily dismissed, however, are the collosal beats of Lasers' first half. Gloom-and-doom opener Letting Go his a heavy-footed march that sounds better when played loudly, a rule that remains constant through-out the LP. Words I Never Said might be the best example of this, its pounding snare and muscular synths almost imploring you to move your body in some way despite Fiasco's furious political over-simplification. Not all of the backings play like gang-busters, I Don't Wanna Care Right Now still sounding like a work in progress despite being one of the more obviously fussed over tracks. But there's not much that can be said against the subtle sunshine of Till I Get There's backing track, nor the impending dance-floor mainstay Out of My Head. The album's lead single, The Show Goes On, transforms Modest Mouse's Float On into something bouncy, immediate, and fun. As a big MM fan, I can't help but feel a little uneasy about trading in the original song's Devil-May-Care Existential bent for Arena-ready chants of purposeful empowerment. Float On was already a fun tune, so I've no qualms about it remaining so, but the fact that its bliss is found in the essential meaninglessness of everything is a fact that seems to have completely escaped Fiasco and his serious-minded world view. That one might just be me, though.

        Serving as a perfect opposite the Lasers' first Six track, the beats on the LPs back-half mostly fall flat, with a few exceptions. Coming Up goes down easy, skipping along on its simple, kinetic beat, and Never Forget You guest stars John Legend, so really, how bad could it be? But these are exceptions to the rule of diminished expectations, Beautiful Lasers emerging an auto-tuned mess within seconds of its birth. Similarly misguided are the 80's rehash Break the Chain, and the harmony disaster State Run Radio. All Black Everything doesn't even have an excuse: It's just kind of dull.

        To be honest, I've never heard more than a couple of songs by Fiasco before I began listening to Lasers, and if over-earnestness is something that's always followed him, then perhaps this one is just what his fans enjoy. It reminds me of kiD CuDi's Man on the Moon: End of the Day; an album with plenty of killer beats that's also saddled with a lyrical over-zealousness that will likely sit better with people who are less cynical than myself. There's no denying that a track or two from the first half of Lasers might make it onto a party playlist I make some day in the future, but it'll be played at full blast, with the MC's lyrical offerings low in the mix.

Grade: C-

Drive Angry (Release Date:2-25-2011)

        Fill in the blank: Nicolas Cage is a(n) ___________ actor. If you answered 'incredible,' chances are you haven't been within fifteen miles of a showing of The Wicker Man, Ghost Rider, or Bangkok Dangerous. If you answered 'terrible,' you likely haven't had the pleasure of seeing Leaving Las Vegas, Adaptation, or Wild at Heart. If you answered 'confusing,' well... you're not alone. Born into Hollywood's royal family (the Coppolas), Cage has thus far used his career to give a migraine to anyone who tries to put a label on him, alternating between fully-realized characterizations of gleeful mania, and filling up the $5 bin at your local grocery store. There's no denying the actor's strange, impossible-to-duplicate energy, but there's all kinds of denying his taste in movies, a reality that Drive Angry seems particularly disinterested in changing.
      
        Cage's latest addition to his collection of absurd characters goes by the name John Milton, a straight-faced, largely mute badass who's on a mission. Showing up one day in middle-of-nowhere Colorado, the only things that we really know about Milton for the majority of the movie are that he is vaguely invincible, and doesn't think twice before taking a life. By virtue of converging coincidences, he teams with Piper (Amber Heard), a local blonde bomb-shell with venom to spare. The two set out on a revenge mission that is far more fun to discover on one's own than to just read about it, but suffice to say if you like shot-guns, satanists, and breast implants, you won't be disappointed.

        Just like any other genre out there, it takes a specific type of smarts and finesse to make a proper B-Movie, and Director Patrick Lussier has the goods. His last movie, My Bloody Valentine, walked the same horror/comedy tight-rope, using its 3-D in the most jarring, playfully grotesque way possible, throwing guts and weaponry at the audience whenever possible. Drive Angry diverts from this formula not at all, shotgun shells hopping right in front of your face within the first three minutes. It's the exact kind of excess that 3-D hold-outs will tell you distracts from a plot, and cheapens a story, an argument that Lussier's movies seem untainted by. With plots far too absurd to place any weight in, and stories already as cheap as they come, why not let the intestines fly?

        Drive Angry feels slightly more comedically focused than Valentine, but that might just be a product of its improved cast. No one in the business can make crazy eyes like Cage, and the movie is determined to find every opportunity for him to utilize that skill. The man is not above using his imagine as a joke of sorts, stoic and goofy line-readings making it clear that he's in on the joke. Heard swears and fights with reckless abandon, though it's immediately clear that acting skills aren't exactly why she landed the part. In the spirit of not spoiling the movie's perfectly nonsensical plot, I can't feel right about telling you exactly what William Fichtner and Billy Burke are up to in the supporting cast, but their contributions are one with both Cage's and Heard's in terms of gaudy, larger-than-life silliness.

        Fresh off the lowest grossing opening weekend for a widely released 3-D movie since the mass reintroduction of the technology ($5.2 Million, sliding under the previous record of $6.8, held by last October's Wes Craven also-ran My Soul to Take), there's little to no doubt that Lussier will never be handed a real budget again, which is a shame. The man has the makings of a real B-movie auteur, not unlike Robert Rodriguez, an artist with minimal interest in deliberate artfulness. Both have a tendency to let their movies run a little long, and can also seem a bit flustered by just how to pace a movie that makes its bones on shock value. But if there's anything that Tarantino's Death Proof taught us, it's that the type of mania that must be constructed to pull off a proper B-Movie isn't something that just anyone can tap into, no matter how talented. It takes a specific type of devil-may-care edge and verve, things that both Drive Angry, and its helmer, have in spades.

Grade: B