How to Train Your Dragon

I’ve always been a big fan of the well made animated feature. There’s something special about that rare cartoon that crosses the barrier between “fun kids movie” and “all around good movie.” Animation let’s the filmmaker do things that might not be possible otherwise and put you into worlds that are chalk full of imagination. It’s like a free pass to think like a kid for 90 minutes and get wrapped up in talking toys, foxes dressed like Robin Hood, or an old man flying his house to South America. The best-of-the-best from this genre make you forget you’re watching a cartoon as you get sucked in to their subject matter, outlandish as it may be. And so it is with “How to Train Your Dragon.”

“How to Train Your Dragon” drops the audience smack dab into the middle of a Viking village and the life of a scrawny kid named Hiccup (voiced by Jay Baruchel). These Vikings aren’t so much into plundering as they are dealing with dragons. Dragons infest their tiny island and all good Vikings devote their lives to the hunting of and defense against these sheep stealing beasts. This is where problems arise for Hiccup. Hiccup is less the Village Idiot, more the Village Misunderstood Visionary. His lack of size and strength prevents him from taking on the dragons head to head, but what he lacks in brute strength, he makes up for in technological advances. One of his inventions allows him to take down a dreaded Night Terror dragon, something no one else in the village has ever done. Unfortunately the beast lands somewhere in the distance and no one in the town, especially his father Stoick (Gerard Butler), believes him. Determined to prove his worth, Hiccup tracks down the dragon to finish him off. When the time comes, however, he finds himself unable to do so and eventually finds himself forming a very unlikely friendship.

Everything about “Dragon” is solid. The voice work is strong and I must say these characters are extremely well cast. Too often animated movies rely on “name” talent that is designed to get people into the theater but then forces you to focus on those well known voices. Here, however, the work done by Baruchel, Butler, and the rest feels genuine. You’re not distracted by the voices as they just seem like a bunch of real cartoon Vikings (as weird as that description may sound). In addition, the visuals are excellent even if the 3-D aspect is a bit unnecessary. The design of the dragons is an especially nice touch. Toothless, Hiccup’s dragon, is unlike any other dragon I’ve seen on screen. His movements are quite catlike and it has the desired effect of making the dragons seem more pet-quality than you might think.

The script, however, is “Dragon’s” real strong point. Writer William Davies gives the story proper pacing and allows for authentic emotion, something that is often lacking in any movie, let alone an animated one. The bond between Hiccup and Toothless is reminiscent of dog and owner, and that comes across naturally rather than relying on the cliché play-up that so many movies resort to. The two work together as Hiccup tries to fix Toothless’ broken wing and Toothless in turn teaches Hiccup about dragon psychology, something no Viking has bothered to study. It’s an authentic relationship that these two share not only with each other but with the audience as well. The dialogue is full of humor and wit, never leaving the viewer wanting for comedy on top of everything else. Overall, “Dragon” is an extremely original story that is brilliantly told.

“Dragon” is a major step forward for Dreamworks animation. Their previous films (“Shrek,” “Flushed Away,” etc.) have done well at the box office but have failed to garner the critical attention that the Pixar films have. For me, this has always been because where the Pixar movies connect on an emotional, relevant level, Dreamworks features simply aim to make the audience laugh. There’s nothing wrong with that, par se, but great movies connect, not just entertain. “Dragon” manages to connect and entertain along the same lines as some of the better Pixar films. It is 98 minutes of pure imagination in cartoon Viking form and leaves the viewer wanting more from the inevitable franchise that is to come.

Grade: A

My old dog is going to be Toothless pretty soon,
Brian

"Date Night"

Hollywood is an unpredictable old booger. You never know quite what to expect from its products or its stars. Just when you think you’ve got someone figured out, whether good or bad, they’ll throw out a game changer that leaves you questioning your previous commitment or lack thereof. (Unless we’re talking about John Travolta. That guy always sucks.) Sandra Bullock, for example, has been an instant “out” for me since the late 90s but her role in “The Blind Side” was excellent and put her back into tolerable territory. It does, however, work the other way as well, such as with the stars of “Date Night.”

I love Steve Carell and I love Tina Fey even more. They are two of the funniest humans in the entertainment industry today and I am always excited for their involvement in any project. But both have disappointed me lately. Carell was the star of the incredibly mediocre “Get Smart” and Fey was most unfortunately involved with “The Invention of Lying” which was entirely unfunny. Both movies just served as reminders that you can’t trust the name. As such, my thoughts going into “Date Night” were divided. I was stoked about the concept of this film from the get go, especially considering the stars. But as more and more advertising made its way into my mindgrape, I started focusing on “Smart” and “Lying” and wondering if this was going to be one of those times where all the good parts are in the trailers. Thankfully this was not the case and star power prevailed.

“Date Night” drops us into the sadly average lives of Phil and Claire Foster who have found themselves in the classic relationship rut. Work, kids, book club, and once a week Date Night at the same restaurant for the same food form the base of their everyday lives. Sparked by another couple’s recent divorce, the Fosters decide to change it up and bring Date Night to Manhattan where, upon being denied a table at a posh restaurant, they take the reservation of a missing couple called the Triplehorns. Things are going well until two thugs, mistaking them for the Triplehorns, drag them outside at gun point and demand the merchandise that was stolen from a local mob boss. What ensues is one crazy night of shenanigans as the Fosters dodge cops and crooks alike with the aid of Holbrooke (Mark Wahlberg), a former client of Claire’s. Their adventures take them deep into the seedy underbelly of New York where they discover their vanilla boring lives are actually pretty darn good.

Carell and Fey make the perfect comedic couple. Their talents and attributes compliment each other brilliantly, bringing out the best in one another. Both of these actors are so natural in their roles that at times it feels like they are a real life couple who just happen to be really, really funny. There are a few surprisingly real, candid moments that would not come to fruition without these two in the lead. Carell especially brings honesty to the film that it would seriously lack otherwise. As the movie progresses, the two take turns being the dunce and the hero, and while that might fall flat with other pairings, here it furthers their connection. The Fosters are a great team. A bit dramatic and prone to inane plans, sure, but a great team nonetheless.

On screen support for the stars is strong for the most part, though Academy Award nominee Taraij P. Henson is horribly miscast as the police detective in charge of the Foster investigation. A quick confession: I'm a huge fan of Mark Wahlberg. I know I shouldn’t be and I certainly can’t defend some of his acting choices (“The Happening”, anyone?). But he seems to have a good time with each role and that makes it hard for me to dislike him. Holbrooke is a throw away character in many ways but Wahlberg makes the role bigger than it really is. Likewise, James Franco (as one half of the real Triplehorns) is rapidly becoming one of my favorite supporting actors. His five minutes on the screen are, for me, the funniest of the entire movie. Franco doesn’t seem to care about whether or not a part is too small for him, instead choosing his roles based solely on how much he’ll enjoy the filming (“30 Rock” and “General Hospital,” for example).

The behind the camera work is solid if unspectacular. Director Shawn Levy (“Night at the Museum”) seems to know where his bread is buttered, allowing Carell and Fey to do their thing without too much interference. He doesn’t let the film stretch itself too far and I mean that in a good way. There’s only so much that can be done with this story and it would be very easy to let it get off the rails. The script (written by John Klausner) is perhaps the weak link, though it isn’t bad, just a bit lacking. Some of the laughs are cheap and ultimately unnecessary given the comedic genius of the collective cast. The second act wanes a little and suffers from a bit of laziness but again, not in such a way that causes the audience to tune out. If nothing else it’s certainly a step up from Klausner’s last script, “Shrek the Third.”

“Date Night” is exactly what you can reasonably expect from a spring comedy. The laughs are abundant and the story is fun and entertaining. Without Carell and Fey, the movie probably comes off as fairly generic and mediocre but don’t you have to give some credit for securing the right cast? If you’re a fan of the two stars you won’t be disappointed. Overall it’s a very enjoyable experience and it goes a long way to making me forget the transgressions mentioned above. B.

I already regret my Wahlberg statements,
Brian

Epic Fail: Middle School Girl Tries to Dunk

A Fan's Look at a Championship

When I was 9 years old I caught glimpse of Christian Laettner hitting The Shot that sent Duke past Kentucky and into the Final Four. The moment literally changed my life. I’ve been an unabashed, diehard, and at times annoying Duke fan ever since. I have a Duke hat that I joke is older than my 17 year old sister. It started out as white but now slightly resembles the color of old urine and yet I continue to wear (and refuse to wash) it because it some ways it represents the meaning Duke basketball has had in my life over that time period. I estimate that I cried only three times between 1997 and 2003 (legitimate injuries not withstanding). One was when Paco, the family dog, died. The others were Duke’s loss to UCONN in the 1999 Title Game and Duke’s championship win over Arizona in 2001. When I’m bored I run over Duke recruiting classes of the past decade in my head and think of possibilities in which the Blue Devils win seven titles in the last 20 years instead of just three. It’s almost a lifestyle choice at this point, especially between Midnight Madness and the end of March Madness.

I’ve had a good feeling about the 2009-2010 Blue Devils since the very beginning. I don’t know why, honestly, because all things considered, this is one of the least talented Duke teams in recent memory. They lack legitimate star power and more importantly, they lost three of their top seven players from a disappointing Sweet 16 team the year before and added no substantial talent. But there was something about the way they played that had me dreaming about another title. This year’s Duke team controlled the ball, took good shots, and completely dominated on defense. They played defense like a Mid-major school but with the athletes to keep the intensity up for 40 minutes against major programs. The players all seemed to understand their abilities and limitations and played accordingly, which is a seriously underrated and rare gift these days. And most importantly, the one constant in all the years of Duke greatness, they have the best coach in the land.

Mike Krzyzewski is everything that is right with college sports. In a world that is literally dominated by cheating, lies, and manipulation, Coach K and the Duke program are a shining example of how things should be. He recruits the best players who can excel on the court and in the classroom. He talks consistently about his love for his players both past and present. And he wins. A lot. At times the program comes across as elitist, snobby, and annoyingly perfect and I understand why it rubs some people the wrong way. But no one, not even the most cynical sports fan or hardened Tar Heel, can deny Coach K’s greatness. He genuinely cares about the players and understands the importance of the student body, the fans, in a way that almost nobody in the country can compare with. Coach K makes even a fan in Texas who has never set foot on the Duke campus feel as if he is his coach. He exemplifies class in everything that he does and if that weren’t enough, he is perhaps the best teacher of the game of the last 30 years.

After the Blue Devils clinched their spot in the Championship Game last Saturday with a win over West Virginia, I started to get the symptoms of Big Game Itis. I hadn’t allowed myself to get too excited until this point, knowing that at any moment that excitement could bite me in the butt. But as Sunday wore on into Monday morning and the hour of the game grew closer, the symptoms were plentiful. I was nervous for 48 hours straight. I could not sit or stand still. No matter what I was doing my brain was running scenarios of what was likely to happen on Monday night. I bit my finger nails down to the nub. I waged an internal conflict between excitement and dread, half wanting the game to start already, half wishing it was already over so I could know how to feel. It had been nine years since Duke had played for a title and, as my body wasn’t used to this anymore, this was the worst case of Big Game Itis I think I’d ever had.

As the game progressed, I kept waiting for the moment when my stress would die down. At some point, I thought, one team will pull ahead of the other by a decent margin and I’d have to either let myself feel good about the outcome or start preparing myself for the sure loss. This was not to be the case, however, in a game in which neither team ever got ahead by more than six points. This turned out to be, without question, the best NCAA Championship Game EVER. Basketball is a game of runs but both teams were so locked in defensively that neither were ever able to get on an extended hot streak. Duke would go up five then down one then back up five. There was no patented 15-4 run to seal the game or parade to the free throw line that Duke weaponizes so well. Instead, the game was a constant back-and-forth pressure cooker for two and half hours, never allowing me to get comfortable in any way.

In the final five seconds, I paced the floor as Butler missed a shot, Duke went one-for-two from the line, and Butler’s star Gordon Hayward missed a championship winning half court shot by approximately one inch. Even in that moment, as elated as I was, I could not quite yet let go of the stress and tension I’d accumulated over the last 48 hours. When you are this invested, winning the actual game is kind of like taking that first dose of medication when you’ve been sick for a while: the symptoms of the duress your body has gone through doesn’t go away immediately. You feel a little better, sure, but you’ve still got that nasty cough. The nasty cough in this case would be a heart rate that would rival that of a “Biggest Loser” contestant after a half marathon, combined with an inability to sleep that night. (And that’s after a win! I’m going to die young, I’m afraid.) When it’s all said and done, I’m as Sports Happy as I’ve ever been. Being back on top of the College Hoop World feels magnificent. The coach (my coach) takes his rightful place on the list of greatest coaches in college basketball (or sports in general) history. And this under-talented, underappreciated Duke team has become perhaps my favorite group of all time. Call it an obsession, call it a lifestyle, call it whatever you want. But as my Sports Tears trickled out and my ulcer began to shrink, I was yet again reminded of why I love this fickle game and the teams that best represent it for me. Go Duke, go.

Cue “One Shining Moment,”

Brian

"Clash of the Titans"

I am not often willing to spend the money to see a movie in theaters when I feel the movie is likely to suck. I’ve written before that “it’s all about expectations” and if I expect a movie to be bad, why would I put my $10 (or $15, as the case may be these days) into helping said bad movie make bank? But there are rare occasions when common sense is trumped by a Voice and the Voice leads me into the lion’s den, so to speak. Sometimes the Voice is that of my wife. Did I think “Bride Wars” would be terrible? Yes. Did I see it anyway? Yes. Did I want to kill myself afterward or halfway through? A little bit, yes. But the Voice took me there anyway. Sometimes the Voice is that of The Nerd Inside. Did I see all the terrible signs leading up to “Terminator: Salvation?” Yup. Did I let that stop me? No, I was there at Midnight and yes, the warning signs were correct.

Sometimes, however, the Voice takes on the form of Childishness. Full of precociousness and wonderment, the Voice of Childishness calls out, “Come on…come on…come on…” until I give in and find myself doing something stupid. In this case, Childishness sparked when a Thursday email reminded me that the next day was Good Friday and I didn’t have to go to work. What shall I do with my new found freedom, I asked myself. Immediately I realized what I must do: assemble a group to recreate the magical Summer of the Nerd and see a sure-to-be-terrible nerdy movie. And so, at 10:45 (because there were no Midnight showings that weren’t in 3D and weren’t at the Rave where even Childishness couldn’t drag me), two friends and I found ourselves in a theater watching “Clash of the Titans.”

“Titans” is a remake of the 1980 cult classic of the same name. I’ve never seen the original but everything I’ve heard suggests it’s about on par with the review I’m about to give for this version. “Titans” follows Persues (Sam Worthington) as he wages war against some of the gods and monsters of Greek mythology in an effort to…well, I’m not really sure. I guess to save this princess of some random human city that he just met 10 minutes prior to taking on this challenge and to avenge the death of his human father. The setup isn’t really a big part of the “plot” here. Perseus is actually the fun-baby of Zeus and so there are some conflicts of interest here as you can imagine. Zeus wants to crush the spirit of the rebellious humans so he unleashes his brother Hades on the world but he also doesn’t want his son to perish. Meanwhile Perseus wants to put a beat down on the gods but isn’t completely sure how he feels about Zeus. Add into the equation the guy who would have been Perseus’ Earthly father had he not cast him and his mother into the sea plus some ridiculous monsters and a weird demi-god who’s been watching Perseus since he was born (creepy) and you’ve got yourself a movie! Sort of.

I will say three things in “Titans” defense. One, the action sequences are pretty solid. Not great, mind you, but solid. If you like sword fights, giant monsters, and primal screams, this could be the movie for you. Worthington does an admirable job in exhibiting the looks, behaviors, and actions of an action star and the supporting cast don’t make fools of themselves in the action shots. Two, the dialogue isn’t atrocious. It’s not good, you understand, but it’s not teeth-grinding awful which is what I fully expected. There were only a couple of lines that made me wince and getting through a movie of this nature without really drawing attention to the dialogue is a good thing. Third, the movie doesn’t take itself seriously at all, which is a stroke of genius, considering the weak content.

Now I will say three things NOT in “Titans” defense. One, the “plot,” as noted, is just horrendous. The movie honestly feels like a video game in which you jump from one Level Boss to the next, only there’s really not any work to get to the next Boss. Two, the acting is predictably rough. While no single performance stands out among the rest as truly terrible, that’s more indicative of how mediocre the entire cast’s work is than anything else. I guess that’s not a huge surprise given that the majority of the cast is made up the type of actor you’d expect to get a mailed-in stinker from (even Liam Neeson is guilty of this). But Ralph Fiennes?! Ralph Fiennes?! Et tu, Brute?! I’ve always felt I could trust Fiennes but that trust is now in question. Three, the post production 3D installation was a huge disaster, and this has drawn my ire.

I get the appeal of 3D, I really do. It’s retro-new, it’s exciting, and it allows theaters to charge $5 extra to borrow their Buddy Holly glasses. If people are willing to pay for it, more power to you. My issue, however, is the hasty post production retro fitting that I fear we’re going to see a lot of in the next year or two. “Titans” was not shot in 3D, it was instead turned into a 3D film after the crazy success of “Avatar.” As a result, the print looks blurry and out of focus. Even the film’s director has thrown a fit regarding the 3D treatment. In truth, the shoddy nature of this feature just exemplifies the sloppiness that runs amok throughout the film’s mercifully short run time.

Now, all that’s not to say I didn’t have a good time. Childishness had come ‘a callin’ and darnit if I wasn’t going to have fun when Childishness was in charge. While I usually remain as quiet as possible in a crowded theater, I soon found I could not keep the Urge to Joke trapped inside for very long. After my nerds and I had cracked a couple of quiet jokes, the rows around us murmured their approval and before long the three of us had reinvented Mystery Science Theater 3000. The jokes were quick, easy, and plentiful. And really, given the less than serious tone “Titans” takes with itself, maybe that’s the whole point. Maybe that should even be the movie’s tagline: “Have fun! Make some jokes! Let Childishness take over for 83 minutes! Give us 10 bucks!” To that I say: “I accepted your invitation, “Titans.” In spite of your ridiculousness, I had some fun, I made some jokes, and I did let Childishness reign for 83 blessedly brief minutes. You may keep my ten dollars, but don’t push your luck looking for a good grade.” C-.

Release the Kraken,

Brian

Bob Huggins

I've never been a fan of West Virginia coach Bob Huggins. He's always been a royal jerk to just about anyone he comes in contact with and his personal issues have bled out into the public eye more than once or twice. He was very hard to like during his Cincinnati days, mainly because you always got the feeling he was heavily involved in the paying of his bigger recruits.

All that said, however, the clip below shows a different side of Huggs and I think it's important to note. In a second half collision, WVU superstar Da'Sean Butler tore his ACL in what will be his final college game. It was clear almost immediately to me, to millions of other viewers, and to Butler himself how serious the injury was. As he lay crying, Huggins came on to the court to console Butler as any good college coach would do. However, he took it a step further and got literally an inch away from Butler's face to encourage, sympathize, and console his fallen star. It was a stirring moment, even for a lifelong Huggins basher like myself. See for yourself.



I am always trumpeting the character that Coach K at Duke displays year after year and the love he has for every player that comes through his program. He's the example as far as I'm concerned. So I feel it's important to point out when another coach, even one I don't really care for, like Huggins, displays some of that strength. A class move from a guy who clearly forms strong connections with his players.

BG