Movie Review: "Titanic" (James Cameron, 1997)

NOT FORGOTTEN by Bennett Campbell Ferguson

Above: Leo and Kate, fighting for survival.  Photo ©Paramount Pictures and 20th Century Fox.

Last Spring Break, I stayed at a beach house with my family.  There, we pawed through our rented residence’s movie selections, uncovering an awful lot of Kevin Costner and, weirdly, a number of Best Picture winners.  Finally, we agreed to take on “Titanic” and almost immediately, the living room was awash with snickering.  The movie’s dialogue provoked laughter; the cinematography invited sneers; and there were even protestations of boredom.

            And yet…I knew I was falling in love.  It is a rare and beautiful thing to be instantly absorbed by a movie the first time you watch it.  Yet that’s how it was for me with “Titanic.”  Sitting there, on that unfamiliar couch, I ended up in a state of rapture, of brutal awe, of cinematic love.  Yes, the movie over powered me and I felt battered, but I was all the better for it.

            I’ll admit that I wasn’t instantly won over.  “Titanic” begins in the present day, with fictional salvager Brock Lovett (Bill Paxton) exploring the wreckage of the ill-fated vessel immortally known as Titanic.  He’s looking for a blue diamond (who knew such a thing existed?) that will make him richer and, most likely, even more obnoxious than he already is. But the gem proves elusive until Brock he meets Rose Calvert (Gloria Stuart), a one-hundred year-old woman who claims to have survived the Titanic wreck and to have been the owner of the diamond.

            I wouldn’t blame anyone for yawning while watching these scenes unfold.  Never one to curb screen time, the film’s director, James Cameron (“Avatar”), lavishes his attention on this opening sequence, which is essentially a mere framing device.  Yet soon, his logic becomes clear.  As Rose sits down to tell Brock and his crew her version of the sinking of the Titanic, Russell Carpenter’s camera pans toward the wreckage of the ship…and then we fade into the past where the vessel stands whole, clean, new, and ready for its maiden voyage.

            It’s a magnificent sight, though Mr. Cameron is as interested in the passengers as he is in the ship itself.  Thus, in a gleaming take, we see a younger Rose (Kate Winslet) stepping out of her car, dressed in a white dress that is as spectacular as any of the movie’s sleek digital effects.  And soon after, we meet the man she’s destined to fall in love with on Titanic’s journey to America: Jack Dawson (Leonardo DiCaprio).

            The second blush of “Titanic” is about this courtship.  Rose, engaged to a man she despises (Billy Zane) and forced by her family into a world of suffocating civility, tries to leap over the edge of the ship.  But Jack, neatly establishing himself as an almost too-perfect hero, pulls her to safety and soon, the two are gadding about the beautiful vessel, chatting about their lives, and making a fair amount of mischief.

            In another film, this romance might have seemed pedestrian.  After all, there’s nothing particularly compelling about Rose and Jack as characters; we’ve seen plenty of good-hearted guys woo feisty gals in the history of American cinema.  Yet Ms. Winslet and Mr. DiCaprio sell the story; her archness and his ferocious nasal twang zing with energy and Mr. Cameron adds a zesty sweep to their every move.  In one scene, Rose and Jack dance together at a drunken party on the ship’s lower decks; determined not to miss a moment of motion, the camera tips down towards Jack’s feet as they nimbly tap and twist across the deck.

            Beyond that, there’s something incredibly vital about this love story.  Jack, a man of pure instinct, pursues Rose at every turn, flagrantly and gleefully disregarding the fact that her high social stature makes a union between them borderline impossible.  And he ultimately wins her undying devotion, resulting in a scene that has become cinematic legend (and lives up to every ounce to the hype). 

It begins late in the evening, when Jack invites Rose to stand with him on the very edge of the ship’s front railing.  “Close your eyes,” he tells her as he helps her step upwards.  Then, she looks outward and sees the ocean, stretched out far beneath them.  “I’m flying, Jack!” she cries.  Ms. Winslet sounds a little silly that line, yet seeing these two lovers suspended high above sunset-drenched waters, you feel as if Mr. Cameron has given you wings as well.

            Often, the beauty of such moments makes me wish that “Titanic” had a happy ending.  But it doesn’t; it couldn’t, really.  Jack and Rose may be fictional characters, but Mr. Cameron (who also wrote the film) inserts them into very real history.  So soon, the ship has crashed into an iceberg; lifeboats (far too few of them) are being lowered into freezing waters; and Jack and Rose are plunging into the depths of the Atlantic Ocean, struggling to survive.

            In all honesty, I’m ethically uncertain about Mr. Cameron turning this historical tragedy into a histrionic blockbuster spectacle.  As A.O. Scott wisely pointed out, moviegoers share an instinct to find pleasure in what they see.  And as horrendous as it is watching the passengers of the Titanic die onscreen, it is unbelievably exciting as well.  As torrents of water crash through the ship’s halls, shattering everything in their path, James Horner’s magnificent score surges forth, granting you a burst of adrenaline.  Pleasure?  Yes indeed.

            But why quibble?  I remain happy that “Titanic” exists.  Movies, with their ability to mix music, performance, and photography, can capture tragic love better than almost any other medium.  So it is with Jack and Rose.  “You jump, I jump,” Jack tells her when they first meet.  It’s a sweet declaration of loyalty and it means everything to Jack and Rose, especially when their world literally collapses around them.

            Soon, of course, it all fades.  After all that passion and tragedy, we return to the present, to Brock Lovett and his crew.  For them, the destruction of the Titanic is history.  Yet even sitting and listening, they feel it for a moment, hearing the older Rose tell the story of the boy she once loved and the ship she once loved on.  And Brock and crew are moved by what they hear, as we are; perhaps, they too long to be swept up into a world of majesty and romance, however short-lived it may be.

Movie Review: "The Fault In Our Stars" (Josh Boone, 2014)

CRY-FEST 2014 by Maxwell Meyers

Above: Shailene Woodley and Ansel Elgort are Hazel and Gus

Crying is therapeutic. There is no arguing that; it is a scientific fact that sometimes, you just need to sit down and sob.  So, when we all began to plan our reviews for this month, I gladly volunteered to cover the film adaptation of John Green’s novel “The Fault In Our Stars.”

I have never read the book, but I was already prepping the tissues before entering the theater.  “Fault” stars Shailene Woodley as teen cancer patient Hazel Grace who, thanks to a miracle drug still in the testing stage, has managed to buy herself a few more years (she is a self-described “time bomb”).  But while doing the hum-drum of her life, she meets Ansel Elgort's Gus, a cancer survivor who is in remission after giving up his leg.  They strike up a relationship (initially against Hazel's wishes) and then, they fall in love.

Despite the beauty of this romance, tragedy looms over the story.  Yet the most surprising feature of this film is not be the buckets of tears it made me cry, but the joy it offered as well.  In fact, I spent at least 85% of the movie smiling, laughing, and relishing Ms. Woodley and Mr. Elgort's off-the-charts chemistry.  All the film really asks is for you to root for these kids and even at its darkest moments, you start to feel less scared for them.

Beyond that, director Josh Boone doesn’t bring anything visually fresh to the table.  But he doesn't really need to.  The story and the characters really make this movie so there’s no need for Mr. Boone to try anything crazy or experimental.  “The Fault in Our Stars” is primarily a window into Hazel’s world and its people, which is fine, since Ms. Woodley turns in yet another wonderful performance (which, at this point, I should stop being so surprised about).  Her tongue is biting without being too off-putting and similarly, you can’t help rooting for Mr. Elgort’s Gus.  Thanks to his indomitable spirit and his zest for life, you fall for the guy a little, just as Hazel does.

Of course, this story can't have a happy ending.  But I will say this—“The Fault in Our Stars” offers the incredibly satisfying experience of crying in public with a bunch of other people.  And that matters because when everyone is crying, (a) it's less awkward, and (b) it creates a bonding moment.  You all experience sorrow at the same time and somehow, it feels deeper than the sensation of laughing with others during a comedy.

And so, thanks to a great script, a good director, and a fantastic ensemble, "The Fault in Our Stars" is worth your time, money and tears.  I would say that if you are looking for a movie to take your significant other to, I would recommend this one.  And no, this is not a must-see-in-theaters movie, but I feel that when the year comes to an end, I will still be thinking about it.

“The Fault in Our Stars” get's an A-.

Movie Review: "Obvious Child" (Gillian Robespierre, 2014)

OBVIOUS LOVE by Bennett Campbell Ferguson

Above: "Obvious" star Jenny Slate

Movies, in one way or another, are often about love.  But that doesn’t just mean they’re about two characters finding a fairy tale romance—sometimes, the real romance is between you, the audience member, and the hero or heroine of the piece.  After all, when a film lets you live in a character’s world for a little while, it also helps you get to know their quirks, habits, and passions, giving you the kind of intimate knowledge that can’t help but make you feel affectionate.

            That’s how I feel about twenty-something standup comedian Donna Stern (Jenny Slate) of “Obvious Child.”  The first time we see her, she’s onstage at a club, doing a goofy routine that’s mostly about making fun of her private parts.  It’s not especially entertaining, yet there’s something instantly loveable about Donna.  Ms. Slate, with her nasally-cute voice and billowing dark hair is screwball comedy-wild yet never out of control—she revels in Donna’s witticisms, even as she subtly telegraphs the character’s vulnerabilities. 

            Then the bad times roll.  Dumped by her sleazy boyfriend Ryan (Paul Briganti), Donna starts downing full glasses of wine (the movie never really acknowledges the fact that she’s a budding alcoholic) and insulting her audiences.  “You can’t have your money back because it’s free,” she drawls during one particularly static set.

            During these scenes, I felt myself bristling against “Obvious Child.”  It was clear that Donna was depressed (there’s a funny and painful scene where she waits outside Ryan’s apartment, then hurls a coffee cup aside when he appears), but the movie seemed content to package its emotions in “clever” one liners.  Traces of actual despair?  Not part of the routine.

            Yet then Donna meets Max (Jake Lacy).  Tall and neatly dressed in a blue shirt, he looks like an absolute straight arrow.  But there’s something between him and Donna.  They make fun of each other’s shoes (“They’re, like, made of angels,” Donna says of her Crocs), joke about farting, and have one raucous, drunken night of sex.  Then afterwards, there’s a sweet scene where Max finds Donna sitting in a cardboard box and says he wants “to take her out on a proper date.”  And whenever he looks at her, he smiles happily, as if just being near her is enough to live off of.

            I know how he feels.  How can you not love Donna?  There’s something wonderful about her, from the way she crawls into bed with her mother to the absurdly gigantic white scarf that she wears when it’s cold outside.  Ms. Slate, having been a member of the “SNL” gang, already knows how to play a standup goddess.  But she makes Donna more than a punch line machine—in between cracking wise, she finds a confident, scared, foul-mouthed, awkward, loving, and defiant young woman who speaks passionately and wittily from her heart.

Movie Review: "Edge of Tomorrow" (Doug Liman, 2014)

RATING: **** (FOUR STARS) by Patrick Belin

Above: Tom Cruise and Emily Blunt star in Mr. Liman's latest

So far, the summer popcorn movie season has been good to me.  Following the new “X-Men” film, “Edge of Tomorrow” (“EoT”) has really delivered on the entertainment front. Of course, with these sorts of films, I emphasize the fact that I go into them expecting to be entertained (at the very least) with very little regard for those other aspects that may or may not contribute to the fine art of cinema.  So without further ado, let us check our brains at the door...oh boy, was I wrong on that approach!  “EoT” contains a few surprises—something that serves as a nice respite of the usual Hollywood practice of giving it all away in the previews.  

That said, as a film “EoT” (which is about a futuristic soldier caught in a time-warp) has a number of obstacles to overcome.  First of all, I’m not a huge fan of star Tom Cruise, especially since his ego outside of the silver screen has taken on an irritating life of its own (which, unfortunately, has made it difficult for me not to bring that baggage into his movies).  And secondly, Hollywood sci-fi has trended toward the cliché and boring side of things in recent years (at least in my puny estimation).

The good news is that this film falls into neither traps, which is a bit ironic considering that Mr. Cruise’s character, William Cage, is initially unlikable.  Yet the film’s production team (including director Doug Liman, of “The Bourne Identity”) is able to create a true sense of character development for their protagonist—no small feat considering that this is supposed to be a “blockbuster” (whatever that’s supposed to mean anymore).  

Lastly, the main premise is what makes this film feel like a fresh experience.  In fear of giving too much away, I won't say too much about that.  But to sum it up briefly, Mr. Liman has been able to preserve the feel of the film’s Manga origin while also creating a razzle-dazzle summer action movie (I dearly hope that the studio responsible for the forthcoming “Akira” remake will take notes here).  And for all you hot-blooded nerd boys out there that need another reason to see this movie, I present to you Emily Blunt suited up in exo-skeleton armor and kicking major alien ass.

So there.

Seen Saturday 7 June 2014, 4pm.

Movie Review: "Maleficent" (Robert Stromberg, 2014)

NOT SO WICKED: A FAMILIAR JOURNEY WITH MALEFICENT                                          

by Maxwell Meyers

 Above: Angelina Jolie stars as the title villain

 

"You have all heard the story, now it's time to hear the truth”—that’s the logic that Disney has attempted to apply to their newest film, "Maleficent."  It’s a retelling of "Sleeping Beauty" but this time, the story is told from the antagonist’s perspective.  Certainly, this is a different approach to an old story, but that doesn’t change the fact that the film is disappointingly executed.  At once convoluted and undercooked, “Maleficent” fails to live up to Angelina Jolie’s fantastic performance as its title villain.

Of course, Maleficent is more than a mere baddie.  In the film, we see her journey from being a curious, fun-loving orphan to being the protector of the forest kingdom called the Moors.  But despite Maleficent’s initial innocence, she ultimately earns the mistrust of the humans and their king (Sharlto Copley) especially.  Maleficent’s hatred then inspires her to cast a sleeping curse on the Princess Aurora (Elle Fanning), who maybe the key to bringing peace to both kingdoms.

Under the eye of first-time director Robert Stromberg (an Academy Award-winning production designer), this tale looks truly beautiful.  Of course, if you saw a single trailer for this movie, this will come as no surprise—the use of colors, light and, darkness makes “Maleficent” a genuinely pretty film.  And while Mr. Stromberg doesn't do anything new or mind blowing with his direction, he fully makes up for that with the gorgeous landscapes, fascinating creatures, and overall ambiance of the film.  It’s also refreshing to see Ms. Jolie inhabit a role as entertaining as Maleficent; I believe that now that she’s played this character, her serious roles be even more enjoyable to watch.

Sadly, this is where my love for “Maleficent” begins to dwindle.  Not only is the script pretty weak, but the movie barely clocks in over 90 minutes, causing the plot to fall short.  And while the dialogue is fine, I have issues with the characters’ motivations.  In particular, Mr. Copley's portrayal of the king who would sacrifice his oldest friendship makes no sense, and Maleficent's "revenge" of placing a curse on the king’s daughter endures a drastic switch that’s even more preposterous.  And why does Maleficent spend her time attempting to keep the child alive while her airheaded and negligent pixie guardians nearly kill her, starve her, and just plain natter away in the woods?

Speaking of pixies, I know this is supposed to be the story about how Maleficent wasn't really that evil, but I still feel like screenwriter Linda Woolverton could have done more to link this film to the original Disney classic.  Why not have a musical moment with Aurora and Prince Phillip?  Why are the new pixies such ditzes?  Why not have a troll army?  It was Disney who produced the original film; it's not like they don't have the rights.

 

That being said, the party sequence when Maleficent strolls in, wearing that famous black gown with her crow crony and staff, is spectacular (and does feel like it could have been straight out of the cartoon classic).  Yet I still feel that as a movie, “Maleficent” is pretty average.  I will probably pick it up on Blu-ray, but definitely on the cheap. And if you are trying to choose the movies you MUST see in theaters for the summer, I would say wait for this one until its second run or home video release.  Ms. Jolie may give a committed and colorful performance in a world that is gorgeous to look at, but the movie’s skimpy plot and wishy-washy motivations keep it from being one of the season’s must-see films.

Final Score: C

Movie Review: "The Double" (Richard Ayoade, 2014)

SATIRIC SHOTS IN THE DARK by Bennett Campbell Ferguson

Above: Jesse Eisenberg stars as two different office drones in "The Double"

 

It’s probably premature to proclaim “The Double” to be one of the year’s best films (especially since most of 2014’s finest will likely get sandwiched into the awards season).  Yet watching this riotous, sinister, and gorgeous movie, I couldn’t help feeling effusive.  From the first image of its protagonist, Simon (Jesse Eisenberg) blankly staring at a subway wall to the final shot of him smiling in an ambulance, the film seizes your attention, brutally and excitedly.

            Where is the credit due?  Notably to the movie’s director, Richard Ayoade, who made a successful transition from actor to auteur in 2011, with his wondrously soulful comedy “Submarine.”  That film was about a precociously manipulative boy, but “The Double” is about a man who is almost painfully incapable of manipulation.  Simon, to his own misery, is nothing if not passive.  He’s bullied at work; he’s lonely at home; and his idea of romantic overtures is spying on his pixie-ish neighbor and co-worker Hannah (Mia Wasikowska) through a telescope.

            For a time, it seems that Simon is doomed to a life of subservient awkwardness.  Yet then, something happens—a man named James, who looks exactly like Simon, appears at our hero’s workplace, charming the same obnoxious co-workers who’ve ignored Simon’s very existence.  Hilariously, no one notices the resemblance between them, but James takes his less-suave alter ego under his wing, instructing him in the delectably despicable art of people pleasing.  “Which one do you want?” he asks Simon after seducing two women in a bar.

            As the bond between these twin men tightens and splinters (Mr. Eisenberg plays both Simon and James), the story begins to twist and turn, in both startling and thoroughly predictable ways.  Yet the style of the movie is anything but rote.  Just as “Submarine” unspooled in a world of cassette tapes, “The Double” exists in a modern universe that that looks like a retro cartoon of reality.  The nameless corporation where Simon and James work is like nothing out of the Twenty-First Century—its cubicles are soaked in grimy, gothic shadows and stocked with antiquated computers and other machines that roar and bleep.  “I love this show,” Simon beams while watching a snippet of a “Star Trek”-like television series at a café.  Yet the show doesn’t seem like fantasy because Simon’s own world feels just as weird.

            But what, you might ask, is the point of all this?  To entertain, partly.  Mr. Ayoade clearly knows that the exaggerated gloominess of his mis en scene is part of the film’s gleeful comedy, as much as his quest to continually humiliate his hapless hero is (in the opening scene, Simon watches in horror as a train pulls away with his briefcase caught in the door).  And yet “The Double” is first and foremost a satire.  “You’re a non person,” Simon is told by a lazy workmate (Noah Taylor).  Soon, this utterance becomes literal—eventually, Simon is told that his name is no longer in his company’s computer system and therefore, he “doesn’t exist.”  “But I’m standing right here,” Simon protests.

            Needless to say, Simon’s defense of his very being is ignored.  And I think that may be Mr. Ayoade’s point.  How, he asks, can anyone exist in a world drowned by oppressive technology and absurd bureaucratic politics?  If you’re a shy, decent guy like Simon, you can’t, according to “The Double.”  In this bizarre (and frighteningly astute) parody of the everyday, the only way to live is to do as James does—lie, cheat, and charm your way through everything from career-boosting meetings with chuckling executives to midnight sleepovers with the boss’ daughter.

            There’s no denying the pessimism of this perspective.  Yet “The Double” is anything but coldly inhuman.  Simon’s nobility may drop off over time, but the movie takes his anguish and loneliness seriously.  At once desperately in love with and deeply afraid of Hannah, Simon becomes tortured by his indecisiveness, thereby allowing his life to be toppled and then taken over by his doppelganger.  And in the end, he almost triumphs…but loses his goodness in the process.  “I don’t want to be a boy on a string,” Simon tells Hannah.  But what makes the film so tragic is its suggestion that anyone who cuts the strings will wake up with blood on their hands.

Movie Review: "The Immigrant" (James Gray, 2014)

PHOENIX RISING by Bennett Campbell Ferguson

Above: Marion Cotillard and Joaquin Phoenix star in Mr. Gray's film

 

In the final scene of James Gray’s coming-to-America drama “The Immigrant,” Marion Cotillard and Joaquin Phoenix stand facing each other, inside shadowy building on Ellis Island.  There’s some space between them, but it’s quickly closed as Mr. Phoenix leans toward his co-star, his chin jutting outward weirdly.  “If you could lick my heart,” he snarls, “you’d taste nothing but poison.”

            I believed him.  There is no actor today who is as roughly animalistic as Mr. Phoenix; he’s like a fully grown tiger, and movie screens are cages that can barely contain him.  Yet in “The Immigrant,” he tempers his natural rage with utterly strange politeness.  His character, Bruno Weiss, may be a foul-tempered pimp, but he’s an unnervingly genteel one, even at one point sincerely referring to his prostitutes as his “family.”

            Among that family is Ewa (Ms. Cotillard), who has just journeyed from Poland (the year is 1921).  When the movie opens, she’s on Ellis Island, hoping to start a fresh, safe life with her sickly sister Magda (Angela Sarafyan).  But almost immediately, Magda is detained and Ewa is nearly deported.  Her only hope seems to be working for Bruno to earn the money needed to free her sister from the island infirmary.

            Can you imagine a more miserable story?  The movie may be coated in the beautifully gritty sheen that’s typical of Mr. Gray’s films (the cinematography is by Darius Khonji), but the story saddles each image with gruesome reality.  Things keep getting worse for Ewa; even a promising reunion with her Brooklyn-based aunt (Maja Wampuszyc) is ruptured by the inopportune arrival of the police.

            In the midst of this horror, Ms. Cotillard makes Ewa stoic, tough, and pained.  Her performance is fine, though I couldn’t help feeling that Mr. Gray wasn’t quite sure what to do with her.  Ewa’s chief role in the film is to suffer and beyond that, she doesn’t have any discernible personality.  In the end, it is always Mr. Phoenix’s mixture of mild manners and mad rage that commands Mr. Gray’s attention, and yours.

            Thus, for a time, “The Immigrant” seems like a clear-cut morality tale, with Ewa cast as a virtuous victim and Bruno playing her sinister benefactor.  And in the end, that remains partly true—after all, Bruno does turn out to be even more monstrous than he initially appears.  Yet you can’t help but feel drawn to Mr. Phoenix and the way his every move is undercut by a pained, barely concealed fury.  Even Ewa seems torn between anger and sympathy where this man is concerned.  “You are not nothing,” she tells him tearfully during a climactic moment, even though she’s just pounded him with her fists.

            That same scene contains the most moving image in the movie.  Ewa, even after all she’s been through, wraps her arms around Bruno and the camera stays close as she hugs him—we don’t see their faces, just a mesh of clothes and arms and hair.  And though that may not be in love, in the dirty and twisted world of “The Immigrant,” this affection is all that Ewa and Bruno have.

Movie Review: "A Million Ways to Die in the West" (Seth MacFarlane, 2014)

MACFARLANE RIDES AGAIN by Mo Shaunette

Above: Seth MacFarlane and Charlize Theron try to blaze some saddles

 

In an ideal comedy, the humor and the story work together to create the best movie-going experience possible. Basically, the humor scenes move the plot or character elements forward, while the story scenes still make the audience laugh – they need to in order for the movie to work, like a three-legged race. But in “A Million Ways to Die in the West” – the sophomore film effort from “Family Guy” creator Seth MacFarlane – humor and story instead play a game of leapfrog, awkwardly taking turns entertaining the audience and leaving the whole film feeling like an oddly paced, disjointed mess.

            I spent, like, a day coming up with that analogy and I still don’t know if it’s any damn good. Tell you what: You guys try to come up with something better while I explain the plot.

            In the frontier town of Old Stump, AZ, circa 1882, sheep farmer Albert Stark (Mr. MacFarlane) has a problem: he’s a sane, modern thinker whose painfully aware of how backwards, violent, and deadly his surroundings are. When his rationality is mistaken for cowardice, his sweetheart (Amanda Seyfried) leaves him for a mustachioed gentleman (Neil Patrick Harris). Albert challenges him to a duel for the hand of his girl, and receives help from Anna (Charlize Theron), an outlaw hiding out in Old Stump who takes a shine to Albert. However, Anna’s deadly gunslinger husband (Liam Neeson) will be riding into town soon and brining a whole mess of trouble with him.

            In addition to this setup, “A Million Ways” does have some things going for it, including its cast. Mr. MacFarlane is at least serviceable as the lead, committing full-on to the slapstick he and co-writers Alec Sulkin and Wellesly Wild have put into their script. There are also some fun turns from Giovanni Ribisi and Sarah Silverman as Albert’s friends, as well as some fabulous celebrity cameos that are actually quite funny. The real standout, however, turns out to be Ms. Theron. She calmly and coolly owns every scene she’s in, switching from comedy mode to serious mode without breaking a sweat. Her restrained but pitch-perfect performance turns out to be one of the highlights of the film.

            By contrast, the most film’s bizarre performance turns out to be from Liam Neeson, who ironically plays the most normal character in the movie – his notorious outlaw Clinch Leatherwood is every bit as intimidating as a traditional Old West villain. But that’s the main problem – he seems like he wandered off the set of an actual western by mistake, and as a result his “Million Ways” scenes feel strangely humorless. Whether Mr. Neeson plays him too straight or the script mishandles the character, I don’t know, but he feels very out of place in the proceedings.

            That said, the movie is excellent when it comes to mimicking the look of a classic western. Wide shots of Monument Valley and a sweeping, adventure-y score by Joel McNeely do give the sensation that you’re watching a funnier version of a John Ford movie. However, as I’ve said earlier on this site, a comedy must be measured by whether or not it’s funny, and unfortunately, “A Million Ways” just isn’t funny enough. The humor skews to the lowbrow, and while I’m perfectly happy to laugh at a well executed cuss word or poop joke, I can understand if that sort of thing will turn someone else off. And again, the movie is oddly paced. Scenes feel forced to end on a joke – rather than evolving plot or character, the writers just shove in something funny at the end of many scenes and cut to the next one. Worst of all, I’m sad to say that most of the movie’s best jokes are given away in the trailers.

            So, much as I’m a fan of Mr. MacFarlane’s shows (well, one of them. “American Dad” is still pretty consistent) and his debut film “Ted,” “A Million Ways to Die in the West” just feels like a misstep. If you’re itching for a funny trip to the Old West, maybe go watch “Blazing Saddles” again instead, but you can probably skip Mr. MacFarlane’s uneven mess.