'Robocop' rebooted: Can a remake of a great film ever be good?

I've been torn about the new version of Robocop. On the one hand, I loved the 1987 original, which is as much a hilarious satire of Reagan era hubris as it is a kick ass action film.

On the other, the new film boasts a great cast (Gary Oldman, Samuel L. Jackson and my main man Michael Keaton in supporting roles) and an interesting director (Bus 174's Jose Padilha).

The trailer looked OK, so I figured I would wait for reviews. Well, now they're in and they're basically decent but not mind blowing. The consensus seems to be that while the film is far from an embarrassment it lacks the point-of-view of the original and adds nothing to its lore.

Needless to say I probably won't be seeing it and this experiment further proves the fact that it's incredibly hard to remake a film that was already pretty damn great.

This will keep happening because there is a lot of money to be made from nostalgic film audiences but could a Robocop remake (rated PG-13 no less) ever have worked?

The original Cape Fear (1962) is a terrific movie but it is somewhat burdened by the moral suppression of its time. The Gregory Peck character (Sam Bowden) never gets his hands dirty and so the conflict is pure good versus evil (personified by a creepy Robert Mitchum).

Scorsese's 1991 remake is superior not just because it ups the ante in terms of sex and violence but it plumbs the depths of all its characters. Nick Nolte's Bowden is corrupt and complex, the ambiguity raises the stakes and the impact of the narrative.

The Rat Pack version of Ocean's Eleven (1960) is fun as a time capsule and as an exercise in style but the closing caper is pretty unremarkable.

Robert De Niro in Cape Fear

Soderbergh's version, headlined by George Clooney, Matt Damon and Brad Pitt, is also mostly style over substance but they actually make the heist the centerpiece of their film and flesh out the Ocean character with more idiosyncrasies. Again the remake topped a solid original.

The 2004 Manchurian Candidate can't hold a candle to the 1962 original, but I still really enjoyed it because it played with your expectations enough that it surprised fans of the first film while entertaining the totally uninitiated. Consequently, they both work for me.

The new Spider-Man incarnation, with Andrew Garfield in the lead instead of Tobey Maguire, was clearly a money grab and yet it managed to be much better than the three Raimi films.

Garfield made for a more convincing and charismatic Spidey than Maguire. Plus special effects have improved so dramatically in just the last few years, making the CGI more seamless and less distracting in The Amazing Spider-Man.

When it comes to Robocop I'm not sure there was any room for improvement. I suppose the FX could be jazzed up a bit, but I watched the 1987 version on blu-ray recently and I didn't find it lacking in that department. The new film could have mocked the current state of the military industrial complex but if the early reviews are to be believed this new film doesn't quite do that either.

In fact, I read one review recently which made an interesting point -- the writer argued that this new film is perfectly fine but it's just not Robocop, and they should have given it another title. Of course, if producers did that they wouldn't get the hard earned dollars of fans of the first movie and its titular character.

On second thought I think I'll wait for Netflix.

Kevin Spacey has his mojo back on 'House of Cards'

Robin Wright and Kevin Spacey

I've always thought the worst thing that ever happened to Kevin Spacey was his becoming a movie star.

Let me explain.

When he was "just" a character actor, he was sublime. I first noticed him, like most moviegoers, in The Usual Suspects (1995) -- where his sly and slithering performance as Verbal Kint stole the movie and won the Oscar.

It was the beginning of an impressive hot streak.

He was also unforgettable in that same year's Seven as the maniacal killer John Doe, who somehow wins in the end (spoiler alert) by taking a bullet in the head from our hero (played by Brad Pitt).

Spacey was also dynamite in 1997's LA Confidential (the movie that should have won best picture over the overblown Titanic) as attention-seeking Hollywood cop with just barely a shred of decently left.

And then a not-so-funny thing happened. Spacey starred in the blockbuster 1999 dramedy American Beauty, won his second Academy Award, and became convinced that he could be a leading man. His films became less interesting as did his performances. If you caught the image of Spacey running in The Negotiator it was plainly obvious that he was no Harrison Ford.

After a string of flops and disappointments like Superman Returns I feared that we would never see that vintage, fierce Spacey I love in the mid-to-late '90s.

Luckily, Netflix's House of Cards has come along, and while I've come late to the party, I am happy to say I've hopped on the bandwagon. The show is great but Spacey is even better. He no longer is trying to play likable heroes like did  in mediocre movies like K-Pax, he's doing what he does best -- being a shark.

This is the Spacey of Glengarry Glen Ross (1992) who rips into lines like "do not defy me" with such relish that you get the palpable sense that it feels good to be bad.

Sometimes I am disappointed when I see top-shelf movie actors relegated to the small screen. It makes me think Hollywood hasn't got a clue how to use them so this is the best they can get. Not in this case.

House of Cards, which is about to launch its second season, has rejuvenated Kevin Spcaey and fans of great acting should all be pleased with that.

How I finally caught 'Saturday Night Fever'

John Travola in Saturday Night Fever

Sometimes it me takes multiple viewings of a so-called "classic" to fully appreciate them.

For instance, I didn't fall for Raging Bull until I'd seen it a couple times. I've had a similar slow coming around when it comes to Saturday Night Fever.

The first time I saw this 1977 drama it was in a severely edited form on VH1. I enjoyed it largely for its phenomenal soundtrack. I caught it later on Netflix when I was much older and was so put off by its darker moments.

It was jarring in tone and for a movie remembered nostalgically as fun its scenes of rape and racism were anything but quaint.

Finally on my third viewing I caught up with what the movie was trying to do. It is a rough movie and authentic in its portrayal of Bay Ridge, Brooklyn during this particular period.

John Travolta can be a very compelling actor when he wants to be. He is so disarming in this movie. Likable, brash and convincing as a boy trying to become a man amid a sea of ignorance and immaturity. His actions are often unforgivable and yet like a great Scorsese hero you are plunged into his world and are therefore forced to identify with him.

It's hard in 2014 to get past the Bee Gees-dominated soundtrack, the fashions, the inherent camp of much of the movie but if you do and just focus on the story it's actually quite relevant. It's about class. It's about trying to break free of the constraints of the family, the church -- whatever oppresses you.

It's at the disco where Travolta's Tony Manero character can escape the confines of his working class existence.

Travolta as Tony Manero

He primps and prepares himself from head to toe and for a few short hours he can rule the dance floor. He basks in comparisons to Al Pacino (a 70s-era heartthrob for the Bay Ridge crowd) and earnestly rehearses for a dance competition at a local studio.

It's a heavy film -- there is death and tragedy outside the disco -- but it is also a fabulously funny one.

The female love interest (described by one character as "practicing to become a bitch") is a hilarious riff on the Brooklyn girl who thinks she's somehow better than her peers because she has adopted Manhattanite pretensions.

Travolta has all these glorious malapropisms that according to director John Badham were largely improvised.

For instance, in one scene, Travolta's dance partner asks him if he invented a dance move himself. He quickly replies yes but then says he first saw it on television "before he invented it." It makes no sense and yet it makes perfect sense.

Modern viewers will likely cringe (and they should) at the film's denouement which features an attempted rape and shortly thereafter a gang rape.

These are very painful, difficult scenes to watch in which all of the characters, including our nominal hero, show their worst inclinations. And yet, there is a truth to these moments. These awful encounters do take place and they are as much a part of the fabric of the culture depicted as the fantastic dancing.

Of course it is the dancing that has endured and is best remembered from the film and with good reason. Travolta is a beast on the dance floor, at times he resembles a peacock.

This movie really captures the joy of dancing, the pure adrenaline rush of it. The choreography may be of another era and decidedly white, but their sheer energy is contagious.

I must admit after all these years I finally have the fever.

Can a good movie be made about 'The Room'?

The Room is my favorite bad movie of all time. Showgirls is a close second but nothing really compares to Tommy Wiseau's masterpiece for sheer film-making ineptitude.

I have been to multiple midnight screenings and can probably reenact every line and scene.

I'm undeniably obsessed with The Room.

So when one of the film's stars, Greg Sestero ("Oh, hi Mark"), released a memoir about the making of the film and his relationship with its creator early last year I was thrilled and not the least bit disappointed in the results.

Sestero's book The Disaster Artist was wildly entertaining and answered so many questions I'd always had about how and why this cinematic debacle came to be.

The book also sheds a lot of light on Wiseau's bizarre personality which at times can be incredibly obnoxious but also strangely endearing. It probably can't be appreciated if you haven't seen the movie, but if you have and are like me fascinated by it, The Disaster Artist is a must read.

James Franco

Then this weekend I heard the news that James Franco plans to adapt Sestero's book into a feature film.

My initial reaction was overjoyed. Anything to further The Room legend intrigues me and Franco seems to have the right kind of offbeat sense of humor that a project like this would require. Rumor has it that he may also want to direct himself and his brother Dave in the film. I could see that.

But then after I slept on the idea I became more uneasy. Details are sparse but it's unclear if Franco is going to literally make a film version of Sestero's book or do a movie based on the concept (friend helps eccentric friend make a terrible movie).

Would Franco actually play Tommy Wiseau? And can anyone?

Wiseau is incredibly distinct looking and sounding, and even if Franco can do a terrific impression of him, I worry that it'll play as just that a very good impression. The Room's moments of stupefying awfulness are already perfection and I'm not sure I need to see someone just recreate them, even if they're as talented as Franco is.

I cherish a great bad movie as much as a legit good one. Part of what makes a bad movie great is that it's not trying to be bad. Snakes on a Plane proved that you can't be intentionally camp. You have to fail while earnestly trying to succeed.

Tommy Wiseau wanted The Room to go down as the greatest film ever made and there's something so touching about that. For Franco's project to succeed it can't be some inside Hollywood joke. It has to capture the same kind of spirit that Tim Burton's underrated Ed Wood did twenty years ago.

That movie to some extent helped redeem Wood's reputation. No one considers him a great filmmaker and they shouldn't, but his enthusiasm for the medium made him someone we could root for.

I'll likely be first in line probably no matter what to see what Franco comes up with.

Why George Clooney is my favorite movie star

George Clooney

I caught The Monuments Men this week. A decent movie, not a great one -- the kind you admire more than you enjoy. But late in the film there's a scene where George Clooney's character dresses down a Nazi soldier that reminded me why he's my favorite movie star working today.

He has this twinkle in his eye that the great, legendary movie stars had. There's a wit and yes, an intelligence behind those eyes. I find myself trusting him as an actor and as a filmmaker and even when one of his films disappoints me, I'm always in line for his next one because on the whole his taste is impeccable.

Sure, he's ridiculously handsome and he seems to get better looking with age and there's a part of me that I admit wants to be him. But I also think he is an amazing talent and he has the same appreciation for the cynical cinema of the '70s that made me fall in love with film when I was a little kid.

I'll never forget fighting for the VCR with my older brother so I could watch All the President's Men, something tells me Clooney can relate to that inclination. With so many of my favorites faltering or failing to age gracefully he keeps delivering and stretching as a performer. My favorite performances of his, in no particular order:

Michael Clayton (2007): If Daniel Day-Lewis hadn't given the performance of his career that year in There Will Be Blood, Clooney's performance as a broken down legal "fixer" would have been a shoo-in. He reminds me of Paul Newman this movie, a former golden boy who is taciturn and just trying to keep his footing. There are so many great performances in this underrated thriller but Clooney is the anchor.

Up in the Air

Up in the Air (2009): It's hard to pick one but this may be the definitive Clooney performance. He is just oozing charm in this as a solitary man tasked by corporations to fire people across the country. He's self deprecating and sexy but there's also a real sadness to this role as well. It's a minor miracle that this very prescient film was commercially successful in the height of the Great Recession.

O Brother Where Art Thou? (2000): This one is just a hoot and it's fun to see a big A-list leading man be willing to make such a fool of himself. I still find myself quoting lines from his quest to find the perfect hair gel ("I'll take a dozen hairnets!") all while trying to woo back the love of his life. I am big fan of the silly Coen Bros. movies, and it's one of their best.

The Descendants (2011): Clooney was robbed for best actor this year. In fact Alexander Payne's lovely ode to a family losing a loved one should have won best picture over the vastly overrated The Artist. This is the most moving performance he's even given and every time I see it I'm astonished that such a big, glamorous movie star is actually believable as a put-upon father struggling to raise two headstrong girls.

Syriana (2005): The movie that did win him the Oscar is never given as much credit as it deserves. A very bold film for its time (in the height of Bush era Islamophobia) that dared to portray American complicity in the radicalization of the Middle East. Clooney's performance is the heart of the film and the one that haunts you after the credits roll.

Ocean's Eleven (2001): I am a huge fan of the whole trilogy (even Twelve) but this is the one that started it all. This film cemented the Clooney persona -- suave, debonair and always one step ahead. Only he could front this fantastic assortment of stars and character actors and I'm just a sucker for heist movies.

Fantastic Mr. Fox

Out of Sight (1998): Speaking of heists, this crime film really put Clooney on the map as an actor and brought the great Steven Soderbergh out of obscurity. I love Get Shorty and Jackie Brown but this just might be my favorite Elmore Leonard movie adaptation to date. Even Jennifer Lopez is good in it.

Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009): Wes Anderson said he cast Clooney in the lead role because he wanted an actor who was unquestionably heroic. I'll buy it. This fast-paced romp is one of my favorite Anderson movies and a genuine ode to classic storytelling and animation. Clooney imbues his character with a rascally spirit but also a gracious heart.

Three Kings (1999): Another great film that was ahead of its time and managed to find a measure of commercial success against the odds. This one had a troubled production (Clooney and director David O. Russell reportedly came to blows at one point) but the end result is a startling, darkly funny anti-war film which perfectly encapsulates the oddness of the first Gulf War and in some ways predicts the infamous one that followed.

The Ides of March (2011): So far my favorite of the films Clooney has directed (although I am a big admirer of Good Night and Good Luck). As a political junkie this film didn't tell me anything I didn't already know but it just dramatized it so effectively. And as lover of great acting -- he got top shelf work from Ryan Gosling, Paul Giamatti, Evan Rachel Wood, the late Philip Seymour Hoffman and himself. Clooney is totally credible as a charismatic (and ultimately corrupt) presidential candidate.

Following the success of Gravity, which is his biggest hit to date, Clooney appears to be riding higher than ever. For me, The Monuments Men was a bit of a letdown, but I am eagerly anticipating his next project -- a big budget sci-fi adventure called Tomorrowland. Why? Because Brad Bird is directing it and with Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol he proved he can really wow you with movies of scale.

Not bad for a guy that could have simply gone down as the world's worst Batman.

Revisiting 'Who Framed Roger Rabbit': Smile darn ya!

One of my earliest memories of going to the movies is seeing Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988) on the big screen when I was just 6 years old. I loved it -- although I doubt I caught all the humor and whenever I re-watch it now I am reminded of how it impacted me as a first grader.

I even had the book on tape -- remember those?! -- so I have every punchline down pat.

Seeing it again after all these years I am struck by how ballsy Disney was for doing it and for allowing the movie to take so many chances. I mean, Jessica Rabbit alone would probably never make it past censors today and yet, she remains unforgettable.

"A laugh can be a wonderful thing," Roger Rabbit says at one point in the movie, which pretty much sums up the film's theme.

The plot is largely inconsquential but I appreciate that in a blockbuster family film the writers chose to make the villains a conglomerate planning to create freeways.

I also love that they have the gall to give Baby Herman a line like: "I have a 50-year-old lust and a 3-year-old dinky," pretty wild by today's standards.

Christopher Lloyd in Who Framed Roger Rabbit

This movie also made history by being the first (and so far only) time we've seen Bugs Bunny and Mickey Mouse occupy the same space. We no longer really have iconic cartoon characters anymore (Buzz Lightyear and Woody from Toy Story probably come the closest) so it's probably lost on modern viewers how huge that was.

Also, Bob Hoskins deserves so much credit. There he is playing almost entirely against nothing and he's totally credible as a hard-bitten LA cop. I was shocked as a kid to learn that he was actually a Cockney Brit.

Christopher Lloyd's villain Judge Doom terrified me as a child. I definitely covered my eyes when he went full-toon and his hand turned into a chainsaw -- again really rough stuff by Disney standards.

The Roger Rabbit character should annoy me -- I've never been a big fan of hyperactiveness -- but he works for me, I suppose because he's as much a riff on what proceeded him as anything else.

You gotta revisit this 'toon if you get the chance. It holds up, it's hilarious and it'll make you smile.

'Nashville': The acerbic genius of Robert Altman

Lily Tomlin and Keith Carradine in Nashville

I just revisited the late Robert Altman's 1975 classic Nashville on Criterion. It's a sprawling, ambitious riot and it holds up because it's such a prescient indictment of post-Watergate America.

If you can get past the country songs, there are these fully realized performances from a dream cast (Lily Tomlin, Keith Carradine, Ned Beatty, Michael Murphy and many, many more).

It's devastatingly funny -- the Geraldine Chaplin BBC reporter character brings down the house -- but for me its greatness is its cynicism.

Ostensibly the film is about the different people who are converging in Nashville during the middle of a presidential campaign and music festival. What it's really about is sex, death, loneliness, dishonesty and denial.

Watching this '70s-era classic made me look back on my favorite Robert Altman films. I'm sad he's gone because he had such a signature voice. I love an auteur that is so identifiable in terms of their use of the film language. But he left such a treasure trove of work behind.

M*A*S*H (1970): The movie that started it all. Besides being the first Hollywood film to feature the F-word, this raucous politically incorrect anti-war comedy made unlikely movie stars out of Donald Sutherland and Elliot Gould and had a huge influence on my budding sense of humor when I was in high school.


The Long Goodbye (1973): Altman does his subversive take on the quintessential detective character of Philip Marlowe on this sneaky brilliant film starring a never-better Elliot Gould. The tone is oddball comedy until very suddenly it isn't and you realize this is actually a serious statement on the era in which it was made.

Popeye (1980): The director's much maligned musical is remembered as a box office bomb -- but it actually made plenty of money. It's ridiculously charming (one of Robin Williams better on-screen comedic roles, because for once he underplays) and has wonderful songs that still hold up by the great Harry Nilsson.

The Player (1992): His Hollywood comeback film brutally mocks the industry better than any film I've ever seen. A top-notch thriller and a fantastically fun black comedy. This film is a showcase for its star Tim Robbins, and its director, who has a field day with the material. The opening one-take shot is the stuff of legend. When I used to work at a video store this was one of my picks!

Short Cuts (1993): Paying homage to Raymond Carver while updating Nashville for the '90s. Another big all-star cast: Altman regulars like Tomlin and Robbins, as well as Julianne Moore, Andie MacDowell, Tom Waits and Jack Lemmon (again, just to name a few) enliven this ambitious epic about lives crossing paths in Los Angeles.

Robert Altman

A Prairie Home Companion (2006): Most would dismiss this as lesser Altman because of the subject matter and the presence of Lindsay Lohan, but I had a lot of fun with this one -- which feels bittersweet because it turned out to be Altman's last film (I recall that P.T. Anderson had to be on set to take over in case the eighty-something director died). I used to love listening to this radio show as a kid (even though I didn't get the humor) and so this one touched me.

Altman definitely isn't for all tastes -- which is probably why he had so little commercial success during his career. He got an honorary Oscar before he died but never won for best director. With all do respect to Milos Forman, I think he should have won for Nashville.

It's the movie that shows him at the peak of his powers. It's filled with these incredible little moments like Carradine's philanderer character singing "I'm Easy" and the camera panning around the room to all the women that think it's about them, until it settles on Tomlin for a devastating shot. Or how Henry Gibson is always promoting the city of Nashville and himself. Or the constant, principled political commentary of fictional candidate Hal Phillip Walker, who we never even see.

I love a movie that couldn't be made today -- a film that parodies faux patriotism and points a finger at the violent nature of America. It's important to cherish and revisit movies like these because we probably won't get them again.

But it don't worry me.