Jake Sully (Sam Worthington) has a new world awaiting him in AVATAR
AVATAR (James Cameron, 2009)
Museum of the Moving Image
35th Ave. at 36th St., Astoria
Thursday, December 29, $15, 7:00
Series concludes January 1
718-777-6800
www.movingimage.us
www.avatarmovie.com
Canadian-born director James Cameron (The Terminator, Aliens, The Abyss, and some movie about a big sinking ship) crafts an expensive, high-tech apology to native people the world over in the futuristic adventure thriller Avatar. Borrowing elements from such films as The Matrix, Alien, the Lord of the Rings trilogy, the Star Wars saga, Disney’s animated Pocohantas, Reign of Fire, and many a cowboy-and-Indian tale, Cameron propels audiences into 2154, where a team of scientists join up with military troops on Pandora, home to the invaluable mineral unobtainium as well as a native race known alternately as the na’vi, or the People. In the middle of it all is Jake Sully (Sam Worthington), a wheelchair-bound former Marine who takes the place of his brilliant brother, who was recently murdered. While head researcher Dr. Grace Augustine (Sigourney Weaver) thinks bringing Jake on board is a mistake, Col. Miles Quaritch (Stephen Lang) sees it as an opportunity to make use of Jake’s expert reconnaissance skills, so Jake takes over what would have been his brother’s avatar — a giant creation modeled after the na’vi that humans can operate from a pod while asleep and that gives Jake the opportunity to walk again through this tall blue being. Quaritch secretly promises Jake that he will get him the costly procedure that will give him back the use of his real legs if he infiltrates the na’vi and sends intel back to the colonel as the military prepares an all-out assault on the People, but when Jake falls for the beautiful Neytiri (Zoë Saldaña), he undergoes a change of heart. As with most Cameron films, the visual splendor is thwarted by a tired, clichéd script that devolves into complete silliness in the last half hour, spurred on by James Horner’s treacly score and plenty of poorly delivered lines. But Avatar is still lots of stupid fun, especially if you see it in 3D, as it is being shown December 29 at the Museum of the Moving Image as part of the “See It Big!” series, which concludes December 30 and January 1 with Stanley Kubrick’s lush and elegant Barry Lyndon.
Danish writer-director Lars von Trier has nothing less than the end of the world on his mind in his latest controversial drama, Melancholia. Von Trier’s latest love-it-or-hate-it cinematic foray opens with epic Kubrickian grandeur, introducing characters in marvelously composed slow-motion and still shots (courtesy of cinematographer Manuel Alberto Claro) as an apocalyptic collision threatens the earth and a Wagner overture dominates the soundtrack. Kirsten Dunst won the Best Actress award at Cannes for her portrayal of Justine, a seemingly carefree young woman celebrating her wedding day who soon turns out to be battling a debilitating mental illness. Her husband, Michael (Alexander Skarsgård), is madly in love with her and does not know quite what he has gotten himself into, especially as the partying continues and Justine’s motley crew of family and friends get caught up in various forms of intrigue, including Gaby, her marriage-hating mother (Charlotte Rampling), Dexter, her never serious father (John Hurt), Jack, her pompous boss (Stellan Skarsgård), Claire, her married sister (Charlotte Gainsbourg), and Claire’s filthy rich husband, John (Kiefer Sutherland), who is hosting the event at his massive waterfront estate. While most of the film focuses on the wildly unpredictable Justine, the latter section turns its attention on Claire, who is terrified that a newly discovered planet named Melancholia is on its way to destroy the world. But Melancholia is not just about sadness, depression, family dysfunction, and the end of the world. It’s about the search for real love and truth, things that are disappearing from the earth by the minute. Justine works as an advertising copywriter, attaching tag lines to photographs to help sell product; at the wedding, Jack is determined to get one more great line of copy from her, even siccing his young, inexperienced nephew, Tim (Brady Corbet), on her to make sure she delivers. But what she ends up delivering is not what either man expected. Perhaps the only character who really sees what is going on is a wedding planner played by the great Udo Kier, who continually, and comically, shields his eyes from Justine, unable to watch the impending disaster. Just as in the film, as some characters get out their telescopes to watch the approaching planet and others refuse to look, there are sure to be many in the moviegoing public who will shield their eyes from Melancholia, choosing not to view yet another controversial film from a director who likes to antagonize his audience. They don’t know what they’re missing.
While here in America, Christmas movie traditions tend to be on the more sappy side, like the treacly It’s a Wonderful Life, Miracle on 34th St., or any one of a number of updated versions of A Christmas Carol, France has a very different idea of what qualifies as a holiday favorite. Le père Noël est une ordure, also known as Santa Stinks (or the closer translation Father Christmas Is a Bastard), has been a cult classic going on thirty years now. The no-holds-barred seasonal slapstick satire is the creation of Jean-Marie Poiré and the members of the popular Le Splendid café-théâtre company, who spend a New Year’s Eve together like you’ve never seen before. Thérèse (Anémone) and Pierre (Thierry Lhermitte) work at a suicide-prevention hotline, but they are not very good at helping lonely, depressed people, as shown early on when a man calls from a phone booth and quickly puts a bullet in his head when no one at the SOS Detresse Amitié really listens to him. Meanwhile, their cranky coworker, Madame Musquin (Josiane Balasko), gets trapped in an elevator, desperate to get to her Christmas Eve dinner; young transvestite Katia (Christian Clavier) stops by looking for a little love; neighbor Preskovic (Bruno Moynot) keeps bringing over the most disgusting homemade treats imaginable; and low-level crook Félix (Gérard Jugnot) wanders around in a Santa suit, chasing rabbits and wielding a gun while his pregnant wife, the obnoxiously chatty Josette (Marie-Anne Chazel), does everything she can to get away from him while also commenting on all the fun. Le père Noël est une ordure has no sympathy for the holiday season, instead reveling in low-grade humor, over-the-top violence, and surprising plot twists that are not at all what you’d expect from a Christmas movie. With that in mind, MoMA has chosen to present the U.S. theatrical premiere of this French farce with a one-week run beginning December 28 so as not to ruin your Christmas celebration. (And to further save you from potential ruination, be sure to pay no attention whatsoever to Nora Ephron’s all-star 1994 dud, Mixed Nuts, which was loosely based on Le père Noël est une ordure.)
