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There’s an episode of Louie in which Louis C.K. and Robin Williams find themselves as the only mourners at a man’s funeral. They spend the rest of the morning together, reminiscing about the departed and eventually confessing that he was something of a schmuck, which probably explains why his funeral was exclusively attended by two men who barely even knew him. After some bizarre plot developments typical of Louie‘s randomness—as it turns out, the deceased was beloved as a generous benefactor at a local strip club—C.K. and Williams amiably go their separate ways. Before they part, however, they promise each other that no matter what happens, whoever outlives the other will be sure to attend the dead man’s funeral.

It’s a funny, mordant joke, but it also highlights the (presumably intentional) illogic of the casting. Robin Williams, who died yesterday in an apparent suicide at the age of 63, was enormously well-liked and brought unbridled joy to countless moviegoers (and televiewers) of multiple generations. This was not a man who needed the assurance of a balding, overweight comedian to attend his funeral, lest no one else be present. This was a man whose line of mourners is certain to stretch well around the block. Read More

On to Part II of the Executors. If you missed Part I, you can find it here.

Fruitvale Station. It’s easy to brand Fruitvale Station as a hyperbolic piece of biased blubber. Ryan Coogler’s debut feature tells the tragic tale of Oscar Grant, a young black man who was murdered by Bay Area police in the early-morning hours of New Year’s Day 2009. (The officer claimed the shooting was accidental. Three guesses what Coogler thinks of that claim.) It’s sad stuff, and Coogler has no qualms with divesting you of your tears, even as he also quietly asks for your outrage. The problem is that, while Fruitvale Station traffics in complicated issues of race, class, and profiling, it fails to adequately grapple with the complexity of those issues. As a result, viewers who approach the movie as a piece of social commentary will find it muddled and hopelessly strained. Read More

Did you know that Darth Vader’s Star Destroyer was called “The Executor”? It’s a cute pun—not only did Vader take care of business, but he also killed a lot of people. But it’s the “taking care of business” side that lends this next batch of 2013 movies its label. In branding these films “Executors”, I’m implying that they served their purpose. Whereas the Intriguers showed promise but fell somewhat short of fulfilling their ambitions, the Executors understood their job and completed it with maximal efficiency and minimal fuss. They may not be the most high-reaching pictures of the year, but there’s something to be said for a movie that follows through on its goals, however modest. The Intriguers may have teased us with potential, but these films turned potential into actual entertainment. They did their job.

On to the list. Read More

Today, the Manifesto wraps up its look at The Intriguers of 2013. You can find Part I here and Part II here.

Lone Survivor. Peter Berg’s Lone Survivor exhibits a blockheaded simplicity that’s both insulting and oddly refreshing. In an era of governmental distrust and uncertainty—one in which even superhero movies such as Man of Steel and Captain America: The Winter Soldier offer glancing criticisms of drone warfare and look dubiously at unchecked military might—Berg has made a throwback. Lone Survivor is an unapologetic paean to the valiant heroism of the American soldier, and it feels like a spiritual cousin to the propagandistic action flicks of the 1980s, those celebrations of masculinity in which Arnold Schwarzenegger or Sylvester Stallone slaughtered countless Cold War baddies. Afghanistan has replaced Russia, and the Taliban now stands in for the KGB, but the principle remains the same: We’re the good guys, and our job is to kill the bad guys. Read More