How many hearts can one mullet break? "How many men can one bullet kill?" is not the kind of tagline for movies I regularly see. For the media I consume, I prefer escapism (what up, Harry Potter). And if I can't have that, at least give me someone to whom I can relate (hey there, Legally Blonde). I don't do dark, I don't do violent, I don't do dirty (sorry, Game of Thrones).
I understood Jon's confusion when I turned on Cold in July after a recent "I've watched everything there is to watch on Netflix" search. What sold me on a film definitely not intended for my demographic? Dexter Morgan.
I miss Michael C. Hall on my television. Dexter, for all it's warts, was a consistently entertaining show, even when it became entertaining only in the train wreck kind of way. Regardless of how the writers were screwing things up, Michael C. Hall was a reliable - and admittedly, attractive - presence. Unlike my crush on him, however, his acting career has wavered.
Cold in July might as well have been a Netflix original film for all I knew about it. It apparently came out in 2014, but if it made it to my local theater, I never heard about it. It's a shame that for every decent film that garners awards and critical acclaim - The Theory of Everything, for instance - there's at least five others similar in quality that slip under the radar. But anyway, back to Michael C. Hall.
That's what drew me to this one. Michael C. Hall's charisma. And face. I only wish I had known he'd be sporting a mullet the entire movie, because man, that is one surefire way to firebomb my attraction.
The movie follows Michael C. Hall's character after he shoots a home intruder. It's a thriller, there are tons of twists and turns, and I was shouting at the TV enough to make Jon take off his headphones and ask for a synopsis. But a synopsis isn't really easy to give for this movie. Especially if I'm trying not to spoil anything.
Lets just say this: Cold in July is part home invasion thriller, part mid-life crisis drama, and oddly enough, part snuff film vigilante spree. Watching it was a rollercoaster in (mostly) the best way, but afterward, I was left a little cold. The idea that a father and husband would so easily jump into danger that had nothing to do with him makes about as much sense as Dexter becoming a lumberjack.
Another bummer: the movie, sadly, does not pass the Bechdel test. In fact, it really only contributes to the stereotype of the shrill housewife. The only real female character is Michael C. Hall's wife, played by Vanessa from Hocus Pocus (hey girl, it's been a while! Kudos on the lack of botox, you look great). As her husband tries to cope with the emotional ramifications of killing an intruder, she's impatient and seemingly unwilling to empathize. Her character is cardboard thin and all but abandoned plot-wise when her husband decides to befriend criminals.
Yep, that's right. For no apparent reason (vague feelings of misplaced guilt, I suppose, are his motivations, if I had to guess), Michael C. Hall abandons the daily grind to go off hunting for the man he thought he'd killed. The guys he teams up with, Don Johnson and Sam Shepard, are the real stars of this film. I've never been so impressed by senior citizens kicking ass and taking names.
The old guys had character. You understood clearly who they were: Vietnam war brothers-in-arms. One, a bounty hunter, loyal to the death and willing to put his life on the line for his friend. The other, a career criminal hell bent on reuniting with his son.
Then you have Michael C. Hall's character. He's boring. Beyond him lacking motivation, I felt like I knew nothing about him. He's nearly as two dimensional as his wife. I have no idea what his background is, what kinda stuff he gets into on the weekend. In fact, his character was so straight-forward, I thought a plot twist would arise from all his vanilla.
Or maybe the character is supposed to be an audience surrogate, just along for the ride. If there were a bit more humor or questioning of the way things were going down, I'd buy it. Alas, no, he really is just a boring middle-aged white dude tagging along with some old school John Wayne throwback badasses.
Anyway, this movie is okay. Like I said, major points off for the mullet and lack of believable (or even present) female characters. If you can set that aside (as we so often have to do when watching movies in this genre) Cold in July is a thrilling ride.
I understood Jon's confusion when I turned on Cold in July after a recent "I've watched everything there is to watch on Netflix" search. What sold me on a film definitely not intended for my demographic? Dexter Morgan.
I miss Michael C. Hall on my television. Dexter, for all it's warts, was a consistently entertaining show, even when it became entertaining only in the train wreck kind of way. Regardless of how the writers were screwing things up, Michael C. Hall was a reliable - and admittedly, attractive - presence. Unlike my crush on him, however, his acting career has wavered.
Cold in July might as well have been a Netflix original film for all I knew about it. It apparently came out in 2014, but if it made it to my local theater, I never heard about it. It's a shame that for every decent film that garners awards and critical acclaim - The Theory of Everything, for instance - there's at least five others similar in quality that slip under the radar. But anyway, back to Michael C. Hall.
That's what drew me to this one. Michael C. Hall's charisma. And face. I only wish I had known he'd be sporting a mullet the entire movie, because man, that is one surefire way to firebomb my attraction.
The movie follows Michael C. Hall's character after he shoots a home intruder. It's a thriller, there are tons of twists and turns, and I was shouting at the TV enough to make Jon take off his headphones and ask for a synopsis. But a synopsis isn't really easy to give for this movie. Especially if I'm trying not to spoil anything.
Lets just say this: Cold in July is part home invasion thriller, part mid-life crisis drama, and oddly enough, part snuff film vigilante spree. Watching it was a rollercoaster in (mostly) the best way, but afterward, I was left a little cold. The idea that a father and husband would so easily jump into danger that had nothing to do with him makes about as much sense as Dexter becoming a lumberjack.
Another bummer: the movie, sadly, does not pass the Bechdel test. In fact, it really only contributes to the stereotype of the shrill housewife. The only real female character is Michael C. Hall's wife, played by Vanessa from Hocus Pocus (hey girl, it's been a while! Kudos on the lack of botox, you look great). As her husband tries to cope with the emotional ramifications of killing an intruder, she's impatient and seemingly unwilling to empathize. Her character is cardboard thin and all but abandoned plot-wise when her husband decides to befriend criminals.
Yep, that's right. For no apparent reason (vague feelings of misplaced guilt, I suppose, are his motivations, if I had to guess), Michael C. Hall abandons the daily grind to go off hunting for the man he thought he'd killed. The guys he teams up with, Don Johnson and Sam Shepard, are the real stars of this film. I've never been so impressed by senior citizens kicking ass and taking names.
The old guys had character. You understood clearly who they were: Vietnam war brothers-in-arms. One, a bounty hunter, loyal to the death and willing to put his life on the line for his friend. The other, a career criminal hell bent on reuniting with his son.
Then you have Michael C. Hall's character. He's boring. Beyond him lacking motivation, I felt like I knew nothing about him. He's nearly as two dimensional as his wife. I have no idea what his background is, what kinda stuff he gets into on the weekend. In fact, his character was so straight-forward, I thought a plot twist would arise from all his vanilla.
Or maybe the character is supposed to be an audience surrogate, just along for the ride. If there were a bit more humor or questioning of the way things were going down, I'd buy it. Alas, no, he really is just a boring middle-aged white dude tagging along with some old school John Wayne throwback badasses.
Anyway, this movie is okay. Like I said, major points off for the mullet and lack of believable (or even present) female characters. If you can set that aside (as we so often have to do when watching movies in this genre) Cold in July is a thrilling ride.
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