Up in the Air

George Clooney is a guy eternally on the road. For a lot of folk in today's world, on the road means "up in the air" as air travel becomes the lifestyle of the modern road warrior. Airports, cabs, hotels, rental cars. Instead of being a travelling salesman, Clooney works for a company that specializes in laying people off. It's a consulting firm and Clooney is the dude who rolls in, rolls up his sleeves and does the dirty work. There's a sense, though, that he really is in sales. His product is hope... trying to give people a glimmer of light when the bottom is dropping out. (What color is your parachute?)

One of the sub-plots in the film is that Clooney is approaching a milestone which only six others have ever achieved, fifty million frequent flyer miles. (Spoiler alert) Near the end of the film he reaches this goal (I do not think I am giving anything away) and there is a little ceremony in which the stewardesses bring wine, and the pilot comes back to sit with him and give him his silver card, the seventh and youngest to receive this honor.

An interesting dialogue ensues. "You don't know how many times I thought about this moment, planning what I would say," Clooney says.

"What did you want to say?" the pilot replies.

"You know, I don't remember."

It's a somewhat minor incident in the film but it echoed with memories of my first parachute jump when I was in college my sophomore year at Ohio U. A couple guys in our dorm had gotten into parachute jumping through a parachute club in Southeast Ohio. I later learned that for every two new recruits each received a free jump.

These guys were very determined salesmen and exceedingly creative in their approach. The argument which won me over was that I could talk about it the rest of my life.

The day I took my first jump there were 26 new recruits. The trainers put us through 3 hours of training exercises to prepare us for the first jump and, especially important, the landing.

The connection to the film is this... when I prepared for the jump I also prepared a little ritual which I intended to carry out after I began my descent. First, I was going to sing Eight Miles High by The Byrds, even though I was only a half mile high. Then I was going to pull a clump of grass (the kind that grows as part of your front lawn, not the other kind) out of my pocket and drop it from the sky. There may have been a few other components to my plan, which I no longer remember, but like Clooney, everything I'd planned simply evaporated. When the chute opened, my involuntary response was a hoarsely exhaled, "Oh, wow."

If you haven't seen the film, co-written and directed by Jason Reitman whose first offering to a public hungry for fresh storytelling was Juno, you'll probably find it interesting. It was nominated for best picture by the Academy, though the reviews at imdb.com are all over the map on this one. There were things to like about it, but I'm still a little up in the air about my final verdict. It didn't take my breath away or make me say, "Oh, wow." But on some levels it was fun, and it gave me something to talk about.

Two Flicks: A Pick and a Pan

Watched Iron Man last night. Two day rental from Blockbuster. While researching other things online I attempted to enjoy this politically correct caricature of a special effects driven Hollywood cliche. Big names like Robert Downey Jr., Jeff Bridges and the lovely Gwyneth Paltrow garnered some acclaim for the film last winter. Exceedingly high praise for what seemed to me a tired re-hash.

The skinny on this thin plot: Downey's father made a fortune as an arms manufacturer in World War II, and afterwards. Downey, the arrogant punk heir who has everything gets kidnapped and put in touch with his conscience when he learns that his weapons are also the same weapons used by terrorists in other parts of the world. Mix in a little Marvel Comix magic and you have a superhero, a.k.a. Iron Man.

Everything about this film seems borrowed. Downey's home is an echo of Bruce Wayne's digs. Downey's character development is an echo of Tom Cruise in Vanilla Sky (a much more fascinating story). And the evil Iron Man knock off that clothes Jeff Bridges in the end (spoiler alert!) is an echo of The Mask.

The mystery here is why the critics raved over it so. It's the same old song.

A second film I watched this past week: Michael Clayton. I'd watched it sometime last winter and thought it griping then. It was even better this time around. Yes, this is also politically correct Hollywood fare, but it's an intelligent, character driven thriller.

In this instance, the bad guys are U/North, a multinational agri-chemical corporation. Michael Clayton (George Clooney) is a fixer for a major law firm that serves clients like U/North. It's a given that his life is filled with ethical compromises, but it comes with the turf. In this instance there are complications when the the lead attorney defending U/North in a class action lawsuit goes bonkers, tears off his clothes in a deposition and exhibits other bizarre behaviors. Also from the firm, Clayton has to "fix" this problem to keep it from interfering with a mega-merger that is simultaneously in the works. The real problem is that Arthur Edens (Tom Wilkinson), this lawyer who had a meltdown, is Clayton's friend who, like Downey in Iron Man, got bit by his conscience. After years of devoting his life to this case he realizes he is on the wrong side.

With so much at stake, certain powers that be must resort to the "ultimate fix" and do the dirty on Edens. Clayton's life at this point is no picnic and in the midst of it all he discovers he is likewise no longer indispensable.

The screenplay is great, the dialogue fresh, the issues real, the characters complex. And in that true Hitchcockian style, you know who the bad guys are but you just don't know what will happen next.

It's pretty easy to see which is the pick and which the pan here. O.K., I admit my criticisms of the Iron Man are overly harsh. Sorry. I just needed to air out a little. And in the meantime, have a great day. See you at the movies.