I know it felt like fun watching The Rock strike poses so hammy he should’ve been laced with pineapple. But see, that was movie-studio-generated fake fun-they pay $100 million for it, which is why it feels so real. What you really felt was bored. We’re being honest here, remember, so ask yourselves: did your pulse really quicken during any of the fight scenes? Did you feel even a second of genuine suspense? Was the outcome ever in doubt? Now, before you answer, close your eyes and remember what it was like watching, say, “The Matrix”-for the first time or even for the 40th. Yeah, thought so.
The summer movie season, which officially begins on May 3 with “Spider-Man”-a full month and a half before the calendar says summer begins-is supposed to be about mindless fun. But Hollywood has learned that while mindless is easy, fun is not, and that we moviegoers aren’t too picky about the fun part.
Is it any wonder, then, that the most flat-out entertaining movie playing in any theater in America right now was made in … Mexico? “Y Tu Mama Tambien,” a road movie about two horny boys and their blindingly hot older-woman travel companion, is fast, crass, sexy and hilarious. By any standard, even those belonging to people who think “Y Tu Mama Tambien” means “I Ain’t Watchin’ No Damn Subtitles.” (It actually means “And Your Mother Too.”) If you go see “Y Tu Mama” and don’t enjoy it-let’s see, how to put this diplomatically?-there is something wrong with you.
The best news of the early summer, in my opinion, is that “Y Tu Mama Tambien” isn’t the only hidden treasure. This week, two more arrive in some cities and will slowly creep to a theater near you. Now, remember, we’re still being honest here, so I’m gonna roll the dice, hope you stick with me and admit upfront that one of these films is Argentinean and the other is a documentary. (Rest assured that neither is an Argentinean documentary. Look, I’m no snob-I’m in this for kicks just like you.) Both of them are … hold on, just punching this into the calculator … 62 times more entertaining than either “Scorpion King” or “Spider-Man.”
“Nine Queens,” by Argentine director Fabian Bielinsky, is the story of Juan (Gaston Pauls) and Marcos (Ricardo Darin), two small-time con men who hook up for a tricky job with a monster payoff. Long story short, they try to dupe a tycoon into buying a sheet of phony rare stamps-if they can trust each other long enough to close the deal. Bielinsky’s zippy, twisty, oh-so-clever tale won pretty much every film award Argentina gives out. (If an American movie won the Oscar for Best Picture and the MTV award for Best Movie, you’d go see it, right? Well, there you go.)
The movie is one ingenious confidence game after another-my favorite: a quick scam in which the guys bilk an old lady out of money using only her apartment intercom-all building up to the Big One. It’s like a David Mamet film without all the bad light and semiotics of language. Instead, Bielinsky offers full-throttle entertainment, a film whose chief goal is stay five steps ahead of you. “Nine Queens” does it with ease.
The can’t-miss documentary of the summer is called “Dogtown & Z-Boys,” the story of the origins of skateboarding as we know it today-a playground ruled by Tony Hawk and the X-Games. “Z-Boys” is shorthand for the Zephyrs, an ultratalented group of ’70s-era roughneck skate kids from the crumbling beachfronts of Venice, Calif. (known locally as Dogtown). And the film, directed by one of their crew, skateboarding legend Stacy Peralta, and narrated by Sean Penn, is a jaw-dropping account of the Zephyrs’ rise from disaffected dead-enders to action-sport revolutionaries.
Peralta’s film, loaded with colorful characters and can’t-find-it-anywhere-else archival footage, holds you in its thrall much the same way “Memento” did. We know how the story ends, but hardly anyone knows the beginning or the middle. Peralta puts the puzzle pieces together with terrific efficiency, detailing how the Zephyrs’ low-to-the-ground, horizontal style was an homage to their surfing heroes that blossomed into today’s half-pipe model-all thanks to a series of, shall we say, topographical coincidences. The teenagers started grinding at local elementary schools, which were ringed by sloped blacktop. Then, thanks to a massive drought in southern California, they began busting into empty backyard pools and riding all day while the owners were at work.
Peralta is a veteran of skateboarding films, so his slick mastery of the sound and visuals is no surprise. (Although at one point during Penn’s voice-over narration, the actor stumbles over a word, clears his throat and continues-perhaps the punk in Peralta just decided to leave it in.) But the skill of the storytelling was a shock to me. In my lifetime, I’ve spent about five seconds on a skateboard, and my ride ended predictably. And yet “Dogtown & Z-Boys” had me shaking my head in wonderment every five minutes.
At this year’s Sundance Film Festival, Peralta’s doc won both the Audience Award and the Director’s Award. The former it surely deserved but, as good as it is, the latter makes me a bit queasy. Peralta, again, is a former Z-Boy himself, calling into question the objectivity of his take. (In fact, he’s on camera several times in the film-as an interview subject in a movie he’s directing.) Documentary filmmaking is far too important a medium to ignore such things, at least on a critical plane.
That said, on the fun meter, “Dogtown & Z-Boys” leaves “Scorpion King” choking on its dust. The next few weekends, when you’re faced with a choice between seeing something fun and seeing something “fun,” do yourself a favor: treat yourself to the real thing. Maybe Hollywood will get the message.
