Odd Juxtaposition

Continuing my vidding kick, I've just been taking films in the order they arrive at the house. Recently this created a very curious sequence, much like catching a double- or tripleheader at the local plex might do.

Wild Hogs

This is a movie featuring four established actors supported by equally identifiable supporting performers. The result is better than the unexpected casting initially suggested when I first watched the previews for this film in theaters.

Tim Allen, Martin Lawrence, William H. Macy, and John Travolta play four mid-life suburbanites facing standard mid-life crises.

Allen is a dentist who has somehow lost the spontaneous edge that once made him "the Golden Knight" in his now long gone college days. Being married to Jill Hennessy, who looks like an only slightly older, more relaxed version of her Law-n-Order Claire character, doesn't help him. His son clearly thinks his father is a stodgy old man; consequently, the lad prefers to play hoops with his friend's father, who can dunk. His wife practically has to kick him out of the house to take the time off to go on the proposed road trip. The payoff, of course, is that he regains his self-esteem and wins his son's regard in the process. Unfortunately, all that esteem comes from getting into a fight with biker toughs. Entertaining as it is, I'm not sure that's a message that children in search of role models really need to receive.

Lawrence is an aspiring writer who has taken a year off from plumbing. Now that his year is up, his wife wants him back on the job. Clearly she rules the roost while he commands no respect from either his children or his live-in mother-in-law. His first client, a convenience store clerk, also deems Lawrence's character below himself in the scheme of life. The proposed road trip is a perfect escape for him. Unfortunately, he needs to lie to his wife in order to take it. It does buy him the time to reclaim himself, so that by the time she discovers the truth and comes storming after him, he is able to stand up to her and retake control of his marriage, or so we are led to believe. Unfortunately, this is probably the weakest of the narrative threads, even as Lawrence's character has some of the best sight gags. The intended message is that a man who can stand up to bikers should be able to stand up to one shrill shrew of a wife. That's not a great message.

William H. Macy's character walks a fine line between the kind of person mass media has taught us to fear and the kind we love to mock: he is a computer geek afraid of human intercourse, except with his suburban biker buddies. Macy plays his geek ingenuously, keeping the innocence and naivety clearly front and center and avoiding all but one suggestion of the online predator, which is intentionally played for laughs. His reward in the end is that he gets Marisa Tomei and masters his bike sufficiently to appreciate the bikini-clad beauties of Southern California while his friends finally fall down.

John Travolta has been cast in far more heroic roles than his fellow castmates. It is therefore no surprise that he is cast as the nominal leader of the group at the beginning of the film, or at least as the instigator of the road trip, though the audience is also presented with a clear view of his character's clay feet as well. This man who seems to have everything - a successful business and a supermodel wife - is actually bankrupt in the wake of his wife's departure and divorce. There is a lovely symmetry in watching this character's descent and dissolution as Macy's character grows into belated manhood. Reasonably, these are the two actors better known for their dramatic turns than their comedic roles, though they clearly do both with equal facility.

This film is an unqualified success at entertaining. The pace is excellent, the music fits like a comfortable old glove, and the faces are of old friends. Stephen Tobolowsky and John C. McGinley as the sheriff and highway patrolman respectively are familiar faces, if not names. For fans of Mystery, Alaska, Kevin Durand is a pleasant sighting, (though his resume reflects more television series work than film work).

As villains go, Ray Liotta plays this one a bit too flatly and heavy-handedly for my taste. He has shown much finer layers in some of his other work, but that may simply be a consequence of this script. There really isn't much room for him to demonstrate layers; he is simply asked to be a stock villain against whom the others may flail. Unfortunately, when he does finally get a chance to do some texturing, he doesn't. Ah well...

At least he gets to call one of the original Wild Ones, Peter Fonda, dad.

There is an ongoing homophobic riff throughout the film, overtly with McGinley's highway patrolman, less noticeably yet more consistently between Travolta and Macy, with the geek giving evidence of uncomfortable comfort in his own skin that way while the seeming stud is the one who is always squirming away. Again, there's a mixed message that is pervasive throughout the film, widely accepted as the norm in society, and just a little bit disturbing upon reflection.

Apocalypto

Mel Gibson's most recent offering, in contrast, is a very deliberate attempt to convey serious drama amidst the grand epic sweep of the great Mayan civilization in its death throes. It being a Mel movie, however, there are inevitable bits of locker room humor and the occasional nod to homophobia, Mel being an ardent and active espouser of the heterosexual lifestyle as the only sane, noncomedic choice among heroic warriors.

Like Wild Hogs, Gibson's Apocalypto quickly turns into a road trip, though the latter film involves more enforced travel than intentional meandering. Along the way would-be warriors are tested, with only one emerging a mature man by film's end which, coincidentally, also arrives at ocean's edge. Since Apocalypto is intended as a serious film, the failure of companions to meet each test encountered successfully results in death, in contrast to Wild Hogs, where failure merely results in decreased stature until all are equals instead of hierarchically situated.

As Gibson's film is more ambitious, the costumes and sets are much more lavish. The attention to detail alone makes this a film worth watching, despite the fact that sometimes the camera lingers a little too long on sets and scenery for the good of the narrative. Every stratum of society that has been discovered through painstaking research is meticulously depicted through costumes, accessories, body decorations, and assigned societal roles, making acting moot for many of the cast. Unfortunately, the few whose roles actually do require acting in addition to makeup, wardrobe, and placement are not always quite up to the task, a fact detectable despite the exclusive use once again of a language not much in use these days (Mayan). There is, of course, the possibility that I am not quite up to snuff on the topic of the eyes wide open school of acting...

Character-wise, Apocalypto shares with Wild Hogs the presentation of immature men who, through life or death confrontation, progress to a clearer sense of self. One senses, however, that the protagonist of the former film experiences significantly more growth than do the four riders in the latter. Sadly, the protagonist of Apocalypto retreats into the still free forest on the brink of invasion, exploitation, and destruction, whereas the Wild Hogs, who also return to their native habitat, i.e. the suburbs, arguably sustain a new lease on life (though a true cynic might see suburbia as just another beachhead for invasion, exploitation, and destruction of civilization as only an urban dweller can understand it).

One positive that both films share is the depiction of strong women, marginalized though they be in these male-centric narratives. Seven, the very pregnant wife whom Jaguar's Paws, the protagonist of Apocalypto, conceals in a well during the initial attack on the village, proves to be an able and fit mate and mother. Though clearly frightened, she presents a brave front for her young son, Turtle's Run. As the days pass, she finds creative ways to deal with exigencies that arise, from stitching up her son's gash with insects to gathering water for drinking to making a valiant if ultimately futile attempt to climb out of the well. She even manages to stay afloat and give birth amidst a torrential rainstorm while her erstwhile husband is pussyfooting around with deadly killers who have tracked him across two days, a Fugitive-esque waterfall leap, and limb-sucking bogs. What I don't get is why she is still required to wait for her husband to finally rescue her. Of course, this is a Mel movie.

If you're into cool weaponry, this is a great film to watch. In addition to extensive research of existing records, the weapons master who got his start in films working on Gibson's first hit, Braveheart, is back. He incorporates not only what exists in records, but what is plausible based on the materials available. Stone slingshots, obsidian-edged swords, and darts created on the spur of the moment from handy frog venom that are then shot through a giant rolled up leaf are among the weapons at hand. Of course, cool weapons mean creative blood spurting, another trademark of a Mel Gibson epic action film.

Ultimately, these are two films aimed at those interested in getting the testosterone flowing. There are some pretty cool stunts in each between long waits of scenery and narrative. Ostensibly, growth and maturity are achieved. One can always hope.