There’s
No Story
By
Laura Leon
Morning
Glory
Directed
by Roger Michell
The ostensible
love story embedded in Morning Glory involves workaholic producer
Becky Fuller (Rachel McAdams) and hunky journalist Adam Bennett
(Patrick Wilson). Theirs has all the meet-cute credibility
one would expect from a fluffy romantic comedy like this,
and indeed, they look really cute together, especially as
he visibly struggles to make heads or tails of her mile-a-minute
banter and her adorable unease in nonwork situations. But
the real dynamic relationship in the movie, which was directed
by Roger Michell, is the one between Becky and the cantankerous
news reporter Mike Pomeroy (Harrison Ford), whom she hires
to co-host the struggling morning news show Daybreak. Pomeroy
has a distinguished and award-winning career plumbing the
journalistic depths of places like Bosnia and Iraq, and bitterly
resents having to stoop to AM banter and promos about Easter
eggs and menopause tips. He’s all bile to Becky’s
persistent sunshine, and highly unlikely to acquiesce to her
pleas to help her turn the show around before it’s too
late.
It’s
a funny premise, especially when Ford plays Pomeroy with so
little warmth, refusing to soften the curmudgeon even when
this decision threatens to completely turn off the audience.
His sparring, both on- and off-air, with co-host Colleen Peck
(Diane Keaton) is delicious, if in too short supply. Indeed,
Keaton’s acid-tongued former beauty queen is a hoot,
but she’s given hardly any screen time. Colleen’s
decision to do whatever necessary to support Becky’s
attempts to bring the show out of the ratings cellar comes
out of the blue, and while it could have provided rich fodder
for more dissension between Peck and Pomeroy, it is instead
wanly milked for sight gags like Keaton in a sumo wrestling
fat suit.
The script,
by Aline Brosh McKenna (The Devil Wears Prada), tries to skewer
the empty calories that make up much of the usual morning
news show diet, but it also wants to prove that segments like
Colleen’s on-air pap smear have a purpose. Instead of
being deliciously wicked, it settles on cute and occasionally
funny, relying almost exclusively on McAdams’ Mary Tyler
Moore-style likeability in lieu of smart characterizations
such as were on ample display in a better movie about the
same business, Broadcast News.
The last
20 minutes feel really artificial, as if the filmmakers realized
that they hadn’t accomplished what perhaps they had set
out to do, and just have an overwhelming need for closure.
Would the powers that be at NBC really interview Becky while
her show is airing, with the TV on in the same room? Would
the studiously professional Becky, whose lifelong goal has
been to land a job at Today, actually be unable to focus on
the prize at hand? All this, and a music video montage of
Becky running through the city in pink heels, is a bit much
to swallow for audiences who have gamely sat through an uneven,
if sometimes very funny, storyline.
Monster
Mash
Skyline
Directed
by the Brothers Strause
Whether
or not you enjoy the new alien invasion flick Skyline depends
upon whether or not you’re a sci-fi masochist. Are you
the kind of person who will cheerfully endure an awful plot
or negligible acting for the sake of awesome special effects
or a compelling story? Then Skyline will prove a mild diversion
for your movie dollar.
Might
as well detail the painful aspects of the movie first. The
characters are unappealing. The only remotely sympathetic
schmucks are killed off first. Most of the drama is built
around graffiti artist Jarrod (Eric Balfour) and his pregnant
girlfriend Elaine (Scottie Thompson); he’s a dipshit
and she’s only marginally less stupid. Eventually, one
longs to see them killed.
The setting
is modern L.A. dull. That’s not completely fair; the
use of the antiseptic, high-rise condo setting is dull. The
fact that all the apartments and stairways look alike was
an opportunity wasted on the filmmakers, unless they took
the opportunity to be sloppy about the action; eventually
the level of boredom engendered by the story served as a narcotic,
and I found myself not caring about the actual geography of
the building and how it related to the action.
The particulars
of the alien invasion don’t make any sense, and there
are too many details to ignore. Why does the aliens’
blue light, which attracts humans like cocaine attracts Hollywood
producers, affect human physiology? Why are all the media
outlets destroyed, while the military remains intact? Why
do the alien crafts move like the squigglies in The Matrix,
and look like mini-versions of the Cloverfield monster? (Wait,
I know the answer to that last pair of questions.)
What’s
fun about Skyline? The Brothers Strause know how to ratchet
up suspense, at least for the first 50 minutes or so. They
know how to build a sense of mystery, and creeping horror,
as the characters—and audience—begin to figure out
what the aliens are after. And the monsters themselves are
ugly and impressive; the battles between the monsters and
human military technology are well done.
The problem
is that they just go too far with their sci-fi whimsies. Unfortunately,
while it took another set of brothers—the Wachow-skis—three
films to destroy their great sci-fi epic (The Matrix trilogy),
the Strauses wreck everything in 95 minutes.
To get
back to, and finish, my original point: If you are not a masochist
of any kind, Skyline will bore the crap out of you and make
you regret spending your time and money.
—Shawn
Stone
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