by George Wolf
Photo credit: AP Photo/DreamWorks II, Melinda Sue Gordon
Veronica Mars
Fans of Veronica Mars have been clamoring for a movie ever since the television series left the air in 2007. Their wish has finally been granted, and the result is a film that will not only preach to the choir, but also entertain those unfamiliar with the exploits of the teenage private eye.
Of course now, Veronica (Kristen Bell) is all grown up, and she’s left the P.I. business in California for a new life in New York. She’s done with law school and is up for a plum job at a big time law firm when…her old life comes calling.
Director/co-writer Rob Thomas shows great instincts for giving his baby a successful upgrade to the big screen, and for paying VM fans back for their devotion and kickstarter love. He gets everyone caught up in the first few minutes, then centers a murder mystery around Veronica’s 10 year high school reunion. Longtime viewers get to relish the return of all the familiar faces, while Thomas provides the snappy dialogue and brisk pace to keep everyone engaged.
Sure, the shenanigans here are presented with all the depth of adolescent TV, but Thomas offsets it all with a wonderful streak of self-awareness. There isn’t an ounce of pretense in Veronica Mars, which only increases its charm.
Back in the role that made her famous, Bell has never been more likable, carrying the film with a satisfying mix of confidence, intellect, sex appeal and wit. Also, some nice cameos pepper the ensemble cast, only adding to the fun.
And that’s mainly what Veronica Mars ends up being: fun.
No crime in that.
Need for Speed
I never watched Breaking Bad, but I believe you when you say it is awesome, and that Aaron Paul is awesome as Jesse. I don’t doubt it for one second. Really.
But trust me, Need for Speed isn’t Breaking Bad, it’s just bad.
Paul moves on from Jesse to star as Tobey Marshall, a badass gearhead/street racer who was framed for murder by an old adversary. After serving a prison stint, Tobey rejoins his old garage crew to enter a legendary cross-country race, and hatch a plan that will bring both sweet victory, and sweet revenge.
Even for a film based on a video game, Need for Speed is achingly shallow. Director Scott Waugh‘s biggest error is to give the film the same overly dramatic, utterly heroic tone he brought to Act of Valor. It made sense on Valor, as Waugh was directing active-duty Navy SEALS who had trouble acting, but at least deserved the treatment.
Here, though, the approach is so over-the-top it results in a cornball mess of high octane ridiculousness. Though it’s hard to tell from the squeaky-clean garages, neatly pressed clothes and perfect fingernails, these are street racers, not world-savers. Lighten up already.
George Gatins’s sophomoric and painfully obvious screenplay doesn’t help, bursting as it is with groan-inducing dialog and plotting fit for coma patients.
I suppose there is something here if you like to see cars going fast, but even those sequences are bland, especially after Waugh makes the mistake of including a snippet from Bullitt, one of the greatest car movies ever made. Honestly, you can find more auto-excitica (you’re welcome) in The Town or one of those Jeff Gordon-in-disguise Pepsi commercials.
Even the music is awful, alternating between melodramatic crescendos and tone-deaf remakes of rock classics.
A sarcastic, tongue-in-cheek vibe would have worked wonders on Need for Speed. As it stands, it can’t outrun the stupid, no matter how fast it goes.
Better Living Through Chemistry
For a film about drug use, extramarital sex, feces smearing and conspiracy to commit murder, Better Living through Chemistry retains a surprisingly cheery disposition throughout. In its own way, it also champions wholesome values, all without ever really condemning the extramarital relations, drug use or attempted murder. It does seem to frown on that excrement thing, though, so there are lines it is willing to draw.
The always welcome Sam Rockwell plays beleaguered good guy/pharmacist Doug Varney with characteristic aplomb. Varney’s mild mannered, put-upon existence takes a sharp left when he meets Elizabeth (Olivia Wilde), a trophy wife and fashionable druggy with some lessons to share with the druggist.
Wilde and Rockwell share a fun, edgy chemistry while Michelle Monaghan, playing Varney’s ball-busting wife, steals her every scene. (Stealing a scene from Sam Rockwell is a noteworthy feat.) The three are a blast to watch. They have a lot of fun with the pseudo-subversive silliness and are entirely responsible for whatever enjoyment there is to find in the film.
Too bad the writing/directing pair of Geoff Moore and David Posamentier offers the acting trio too slight a script, as well as tone deaf direction. And their narration device is far less clever than they think.
The film lacks the bite of a true satire or dark comedy. If the point was one of consequence-free binging, the film would actually have been on better footing in that at least it would have been provocative. Instead, it’s a hollow exercise in finding your inner strength through drug-induced misbehavior, and then allowing convenient scripting to help you know when to say when.
