Be Kind, Skip

It pains me to say this, but you probably shouldn't go see Be Kind Rewind. At least, not now. Not because it's terrible (it's not) and not because there aren't far worse ways things you could see at the movies right now. (Take your pick from any of the cinematic chinchulines clogging theaters right now -- Welcome Home Roscoe Jenkins, Fool's Gold, or Jumper, to name a few of the absolute stinkers...) But for anyone familiar with Michel Gondry's other offerings -- his music videos for the White Stripes, Daft Punk, or Beck; the wrenching, but beautiful Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind -- this will come off as a pale reminder of former brilliance.

It's not a complete departure. In Rewind (written and directed by Gondry), he maintains his childlike sense of mischief and wonder, as well as his extraordinary creativity -- there were moments in the various recreations that had me dumbstruck with how unique his solutions were, the Xeroxed faces used to "shoot at night" in the Ghostbusters clip, to name just one. But what he forgets to include in this eau de cinema, and what ultimately makes it fail to resonate, is the hook that grabs your heart and moves you; something that makes this more than just the mildly entertaining semester project of a talented art student. (That, or even the slightest dose of reality -- more on that later.)

For those that don't know, this one tells the tale of a rundown New Jersey store in an even more rundown building that needs to upgrade or face demolition for an anonymous condominium development. The shopowner (played by Danny Glover) needs to come up with $60,000 to save his store and leaves town to go on a research expedition to hatch a winning business plan, leaving the store under the watchful eyes of its sole employee (Mos Def) and one of its sole regular customers (Jack Black). Throw in a catastrophe with the store's wares -- one that has to get fixed before the owner returns -- and you're ready to go. Cue the hijinks and hilarity.

Only not really.

What follows is undeniably creative and at times quite fun (as Michael Phillips says in my hometown paper, "Gondry's misses are more interesting than most filmmakers' successes"), but it's so ridiculously implausible -- unnecessarily so -- that it subverts any real emotional connection or import to what passes on screen. (Did I mention the store just happens to rent nothing but videotapes? And that all the tapes get erased when Black mistakenly becomes magnetized? Or that the guys decide to re-film all the videos rather than, I don't know, ordering new copies online or just explaining what happened to Glover's $50 inventory when he returns? Apparently the internet is yet another thing these guys have missed out on.)

And as is so often the case with movies that fall flat emotionally, the results are uncannily formulaic. You know exactly where the movie's going far before Gondry takes you there -- the town will fall in love with these refilmed videos, they'll almost save the store before the evil villain (in this case, Hollywood lawyers) comes and ruins everything, but that won't matter because the town will have come together and they'll show their kinship in a touching final farewell. It's a threadbare plotline, one that unfortunately illustrates the worst and most cornball impulses of moviemaking (from one of its most unlikely sources) while trying to illuminate its virtues.

What should (or could) have been a feel-good manifesto for the do-it-yourself indie self-publishers of the YouTube generation, instead is something that even an eight-year old would roll their eyes at in disbelief. (Not even in Nowheresville, Indiana would you find a place -- one that is arguably set in the present day -- that hasn't heard of DVDs and still specializes in VHS rentals. Hell, not even in Nowhereseville, Nigeria is this still plausible.)

Gondry could have made things easier on himself -- by adjusting the timespan to the 80s, when VHS was still de rigeur, or having the guys just decide to remake the old, nostalgic hits they chose here as fundraisers for the store would have gone a long way towards making things more believable and getting you invested in the protagonists. Perhaps it's because he doesn't have a romantic subtext to explore that these deficiencies are so apparent. Both Sunshine and, to a lesser degree, The Science of Sleep, worked so well because Gondry's whimsical flourishes were sprinkled amidst the more believable ruins of two failed relationships. It's much easier to believe silly flights of fancy when you're dealing with affairs of the heart -- everyone knows nothing makes a lick of sense when you're in love -- but modern day Passaic, New Jersey, despite I'm sure being a magical place, should be at least somewhat grounded in reality.

Instead we're left with disappointment. And before I get lambasted for being a cynical, overly logical fuddy-duddy who needs his movies to be realistic, remember my first sentence disclaimer -- I love Gondry's stuff. (I'm a boring white guy -- of course I do!) But Gondry divorces things so far from reality that not even its finer points can save it. Phillips is right, Gondry's misses are more interesting than almost everything out there. (They're sure unlike everyone else's.) The scenes of Mos, Black, and Glover sitting around a junkyard wearing colanders and sieves are great, as are the former pair's perfectly executed camouflage for their failed act of sabotage. And the Boyz in the Hood remake, with Black sporting a fuzzy mini-'fro and Technicolor polo, as well as the aforementioned Ghostbusters redo, are absolutely hilarious.

But in the end it isn't enough. The movie never transcends the somewhat needy, "look at what I can do" feeling of that art student's project; by not engaging the heart, things just feel goofy and gratuitous. Is this movie worth seeing at the theaters? No. Better to wait for it on VHS...

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As for our little song of the week installment, we'll double dip that chip again so as to paint both ends of my frayed personality of late. We'll start with the white side of my black and white cookie, from the beloved Mag Fields' new album, Distortion. Much has been made of the Jesus and Mary Chain influence/inspiration for the album, and the common theme Stephen Merritt and company have arranged it around is definitely the titular guitar noise, but on this entry -- "Too Drunk to Dream" -- nothing can wash over Merritt's characteristically sharp, funny lyrics.

Starting out extolling the virtues of an alcoholic outlook ("Sober, life is depressing. Shitfaced, it is a blessing. Sober, nobody wants you, shitfaced, they're all undressing...") this one is razor sharp throughout, tossing off blistering one-liners as nonchalantly as a radiator does heat. Things build to the gleeful chorus where the lovelorn Merritt admits, "I've gotta get too drunk to dream, cause dreaming only makes me blue. I gotta get too drunk to dream because I only dream of you." More wit from the man who taught us a pretty girl is like a violent crime (if you do it wrong, you could do time), this one's another classic from the guy who'll be playing the first dance at my wedding. (You'll have to come to find out what...) Download/stream it here.

The B-side to this week's recommendation is an entry from the fit of melancholy that's been strangling me lately, the pretty little heartbreaker "Lua" by Bright Eyes. Lead singer/songwriter Conor Oberst, and the inordinate amount of nearly Messianic praise that accompanies him, is one of those things that I haven't really gotten the hype on, or haven't until recent years. Songs like this, though, with its delicate guitar and Oberst's fragile singing, help make the case a whole lot clearer. The nakedness of this take, and the sadness lying under the lyrics like purple under a bruise, are mesmerizing. You feel like you're eavesdropping on some wistful teenager pouring their heart out in their bedroom. Heartbreaking stuff -- stream it here.

That's all for this week -- until next time, my friends...
Roberto del Sol