BACHELORETTE Review

Most of the criticism I've read of "Bachelorette" is that none of the characters are likable. What people need to get over is the preconception that unlikable characters don't have anything to offer. Consider Lena Dunham's "Girls," the HBO series portraying a group of young women who aren't always making the best life decisions. Even "Bridesmaids," last year's female comedy sensation which launched Kristen Wiig to A-list status and reopened the conversation on women in comedy, has characters who aren't always likable. And yes, drawing parallels between this new female-centric comedy out of Sundance and "Bridesmaids" is unavoidable, much in the way the Judd Apatow-inspired male perspective comedies dominated the multiplex in the early to mid-2000s. This is simply the new wave of that, this time subverting our expectations on female behavior and relationships. "Bachelorette" is not so much "Bridesmaids 2" as it is the meaner, darker and more twisted stepsister of "Bridesmaids," very much its own independent and devilishly delicious creation from first-time writer/director Leslye Headland.

Coming off the coattails of her self-destructive dramatic performance in Lars von Trier's "Melancholia," Kirsten Dunst goes for a much different -- yet still self-destructive -- approach here playing Regan, the blonde ice queen in charge of her best friend's wedding. Regan is also the lead in her high school group of girlfriends, the Californian free spirit Gena (Lizzy Caplan) and the loose cannon retail girl, Katie (Isla Fisher), who serve as bridesmaids in the wedding. The friend getting married is Becky (Rebel Wilson), the fourth member of their high school group who was probably only unintentionally included as someone to mock. She's the fat girl among skinny, catty bitches who still bring up her high school nickname, Pigface. There are rampant 90s pop culture references perhaps to remind us what age these ladies are having graduated in '99 but still act like children.

Gena and Katie's plans to party like animals come to a screeching halt when Becky tells them they'll just be enjoying champagne and ice cream in the hotel room. That doesn't stop them from talking Regan into some partying of their own full of booze-drinking and cocaine-snorting. A surprising amount of cocaine-snorting. They bust out Becky's wedding dress only so Regan and Katie can shove themselves in it and tag Becky in a Facebook photo. The dress rips sending the completely trashed trio on a wild goose chase through middle-of-the-night Manhattan to try to fix their self-satisfying, bad karma-induced screw-up. By the end of the movie, the wedding dress receives more damage than any one should in a single lifetime.

This creative vehicle of needing to find an emergency dress replacement or repair allows freedom for Headland to create scenes of well-orchestrated that are chainsaw-sharp with acidic writing and humor. The girls get easily sidetracked and end up going to the groomsmen's bachelor party to a strip club, which results in possibly the most unflattering and unsexy strip club scene in recent memory. Among the men are Trevor (James Marsden) looking to tame Regan's ferocious energy; Clyde (Adam Scott), Gena's ex-boyfriend from high school who she has effectively avoided like the plague until now; and Joe (Kyle Bornheimer) who's the only one not OK with referring to Katie simply as getting with "that." With these men do come romantic possibilities, but it's the women who are crashing their party.

Isla Fisher is worth noticing as the perpetually wasted Katie who's a walking wreck in tight skirt and heels, a woman unrelenting in playing up her bimbo slut persona. Lizzy Caplan's Gena is introduced to us in a monologue on a plane about how she uses her oral sex skills to manipulate men. It's a scorcher, and Caplan owns the role giving us someone who hides her insecurities behind a veneer of hardened anger. And then there's Dunst who's portrayal of Regan is raw, real and nothing short of nightmarish. Her arrogance hits a high note when she utters this vapid complaint about her overpriviliged life: "I did everything right. I went to college. I exercise. I eat like a normal person. I've got a boyfriend in med school, and nothing is happening to me."

These girls are never likable, but their personalities soften and are given a humanity, and they're certainly not monsters. They do want to fix their friend's wedding dress. They're even, dare I say it, relatable, forcing us to hold a mirror up to our own imperfections. This is especially true in the film's closing motto from Regan, as she pronounces "fuck everyone" to muster up Becky's courage in forgetting what people think and to just walk down the aisle. Who hasn't felt that before?

MELANCHOLIA Review

A woman screams embracing her child while collapsing onto the putting green of a golf course. Electricity gets absorbed out of the end of a telephone pole -- and another woman's fingers. That same woman wears an extravagant wedding dress running from vines of entanglement grasping her legs. She's then on her back floating down a clear river holding a bouquet of white flowers. Two planets, one Earth and another ominous blue mass, circle by each other and collide. These haunting portraits at the end of the world open as a prologue to Lars von Trier's "Melancholia," a cruel yet beautiful look at the end of the world.

The Danish director's latest film is the solution to the violent and revolting "Antichrist." It works as a counterpart to that -- dealing with depictions of depression and fear -- but also as a nice counterpart to Malick's "The Tree of Life" in its grandiose themes contemplating the nature of the universe. Von Trier's signature style is in full swing with the repeated use of music from Wagner's "Tristan und Isolde" encapsulating on the filmmaker's classical techniques. Though, he still remains frustrating, eccentric, provocative and highly demanding of his viewers with unconventional narrative and painful moments to endure. What makes "Melancholia" worth enduring -- yes, enduring because a von Trier film couldn't be labeled as entertaining -- is his symphony of emotions that climbs to a resounding crescendo of aesthetic prowess blending hard-edged realism and breathtaking romanticism.

The film is split into two parts which focus on each female lead, Kirsten Dunst (who deservedly won Best Actress at this year's Cannes Film Festival for her powerful work) and Charlotte Gainsbourg. They play sisters in the film, Justine and Claire respectively. The first part is titled "Justine" after Dunst's character who celebrates her marriage at a swanky and luxurious wedding reception. The reception is held at a wildly expensive estate which sits at the water's edge complete with horse stables and an 18-hole golf course. It's owned by Claire's pompous husband, John (Kiefer Sutherland) who feels entitled to remind Justine the price of her party. Said party serves as von Trier's canvas to present the worst in human behavior.

The long evening unravels in a hectic string of brash acting out, embarrassing encounters and, finally, Justine giving up on the idea of marriage before it has even begun. Much to the worried bewilderment of the groom (Alexander Skarsgard), the evening turns into everyone's worst nightmare, the most horrific wedding party you could ever imagine having the misfortune of attending. Justine completely shuts down due to a history of crippling depression that rids her life of any future happiness. Von Trier emphasizes the triviality of the exchanges made in the night's progression -- for example, Justine leaves her new husband's bed to have rough sex in a sand trap -- because  meanwhile, the earth is about to end. The wedding guests, however, seem completely unaware, and it makes their actions all the more absurd.

This impending doom is merely referenced in the film's first part because it is then later focused on during the second part titled "Claire." Claire's practicality and responsibility outshines Justine's flighty and reckless self-indulgence in part one, but come time in the second part to face the catastrophe, Justine's bleak fatalism proves a more meaningful response than Claire's instinctive anxiousness.

The film's title "Melancholia" refers to the planet hurdling toward Earth. It also, not coincidentally, is the name of a mental condition from Freud described as, "a profoundly painful dejection, cessation of interest in the outside world and a loss of the capacity to love." It could be labeled as exactly what Justine suffers from, most exemplified in the film's second half. This metaphorical link between a cosmic, cataclysmic end to life and a state of deep depression is audacious but nonetheless astonishing. And whether the film is about the actual end of the world or more so life, death and coping with mental illness, von Trier manages a lasting impression you won't soon forget.

Archive: "Spider-Man 3" (2007)

Sam Raimi's "Spider-Man 3" packs in a bit too much, giving it the feeling of simply being overstuffed. Two new villains are introduced, one of which is supposedly the actual killer of Peter Parker's uncle. The other man Spidey exacted his revenge on earlier was merely an accomplice. The other villain is hardly used and could've been put to much greater use, but more on that later. There's also a pesky new photojournalist, played by "That 70s Show"'s Topher Grace, who is trying to take Peter Parker's spot on the Daily Bugle. Meanwhile, the relationship between MJ and Peter Parker becomes a foe all in itself. Her Broadway career is failing while Parker's fame is taking off as he just keeps getting more recognition as Spider-Man, and so she feels detached from him. And remember Harry Osborn, son of the Green Goblin, who vowed to kill Spider-Man? Well, he's back, and conveniently got a nice bump on the head, causing a loss of short-term memory. And so, they're back to being friends until Harry starts remembering and becomes his friend-turned-foe-turned-friend-turned-foe-turned-friend yet again, and also the man who MJ finds solace in when Peter's off being a jerk; more on that later, as well.

So let's back up here. First, there's Flint Marko, played by a strangely tan and buff Thomas Haden Church. He's a convict on the run and is just trying to get money to cure his sick daughter, which is his justification for accidentally killing Uncle Ben. We're supposed to feel sympathy for his situation, especially during a most forcedly sentimental speech he gives to Peter for why he must forgive him. Yet how can we feel sympathy when he's flying around the cityscape as a disastrous cloud of sand? While on the run, Marko falls into a pit where scientists just so happen to be conducting a molecular fusion test, and he gets fused with the sand and becomes the Sandman. The other villain is this sticky, black goo that immediately finds its way into Peter's apartment, and eventually takes him completely over, donning Spidey with a new black suit. This ominously exciting new suit with seemingly extraordinary yet dangerous powers was supposed to be the highlight of the plot, right?

Wrong. I was expecting grand darkness, a layer of some intense character development on Spidey's part, allowing Peter Parker to learn from his thoughts of revenge. This is entirely not the case, and it isn't even all that clear why the black suit is so appealing. No new spider senses or other powers are demonstrated and yet Peter Parker still puts up with the horrible side-effect of an annoyingly aggressive attitude. Just when Peter is being a pompous, uncaring jerk to MJ, he slaps on this suit and completely transforms into even more of an asshole. Apparently a dark suit and black, slicked-forward hair represents the newfound darkness. Oh, and the rumors are true: There is a musical number, and yes, two instances where Kirsten Dunst sings. Sadly, though, it's Tobey Maguire who dances. He struts down the street as a clueless egotistical loser, pointing his fingers at disgusted women. To spite MJ who recently called it off with him, Peter goes on a date with a Spider-Man fan named Gwen (played by Bryce Dallas Howard finally in a role as a normal person) to a jazz club where MJ works as a singing waitress. Next thing we know, Peter is tearing up the place with his shameful dance moves, pelvic thrusts included.

So, instead of putting the vengeful black suit idea to good use, it's used to create the single-most embarrassing scene throughout the entire movie. You see, this black goo is actually the villain Venom; he only comes to full form when he's able to manifest himself into somebody else. His later host is the scrawny Topher Grace, which is an odd combination to say the least. Venom is actually a really cool villain, or at least he could be. Once the gooey Venom stops taking over Peter and becomes something really threatening, he's defeated almost immediately. He ultimately feels like an after-thought, with the tons of other side plots in the way; it's a real shame, too. The movie feels like a blatant attempt to make this the biggest and best installment yet, which ironically strips away what could've made it all the better.

I admired the first "Spider-Man" for its colorful presentation and lively, energetic feel. I thought "Spider-Man 2" was quite possibly not only the best sequel ever made, but also one of the best super hero movies ever made. It was beautifully structured, wonderfully acted, and had just the right balance of exciting action sequences and deep, heartfelt emotion with a hint of light-hearted humor on the side. There were likable characters fending off truly menacing villains without too heavy of plot getting in the way. "Spider-Man 3" includes surprisingly bland performances from good actors: Kirstin Dunst is whinier than ever and Tobey Maguire is boyishly arrogant, and neither of them was like that before. The emotions feel forced, but the humor is still there, except sometimes unintentionally so. And there being two villains doesn't compensate for the fact that they're both pretty lame. Lastly, there's just too much plot going on all at once, almost like Sam Raimi lost touch with the ideal simplicity of the first two films. Sometimes less is a whole lot better.

What haven’t changed from the previous two films are the dazzling action sequences. The special effects are absolutely eye-popping, except there aren't enough of them. Sluggish sequences link the gap between the brilliantly vibrant and fast-paced web-slinging or superhero brawling sequences. As a whole, it meanders through mostly uninteresting side plots, and nothing ever really adds up into anything truly satisfying come time for the conclusion. However that may be the case, I must say that "Spider-Man 3" is entirely watchable if not at least a little enjoyable. It only comes as a disappointment to me just because "Spider-Man 2" showed me what these movies are truly capable of; it was a fault on my expectations.