Cineplexus

Extract ★★★½

Who doesn't love Office Space? Ten years ago, that now-classic captured the spirit of the disgruntled code monkey, and of the office worker in general, so well and with such irreverence that it's become a cultural icon. No wonder writer/director Mike Judge waited so long to release another movie.

Extract, which stars Jason Bateman as the owner of a baking extract business and factory, has several things in common with its predecessor. Both films avoid taking themselves too seriously at all costs. Both have a handful of characters that are cartoon-silly - not a huge surprise, perhaps, considering Judge's roots. And I'm thrilled to report that Extract has at least as many, if not more, gut-busting, laugh-out-loud moments. But where Office Space's everyman leads had you rooting for them no matter how low they stooped, Extract's Joel (Bateman) has somewhat unrelateable, petty problems that he bungles further through his own self-pity.

Joel is urged along on a totally assinine (though amusing) plot to cheat on his frigid wife without feeling guilty by Dean (Ben Affleck), a stoner bartender who really shouldn't be trusted for anything. Affleck, to be fair, is completely hilarious here, but one wonders how Dean and rich, straight-laced Joel have managed to stay friends. Meanwhile, the talents of Kristen Wiig are woefully underutilized in the wife character, Suzie; Wiig excels at creating awkwardness, but is hardly allowed a chance to, be it by the script or the editing. The "Other Woman" in the script, Cindy (played by Mila Kunis) has no character traits at all beyond being attractive to men and criminally manipulative. Kunis's natural likeability helps her character way more than the film's script or plot ever attempt to.

Mike Judge has created a fun movie that will make you laugh, but maybe only the first time. But if a bottle of Reynold's Extract ever becomes as iconic as, say, a red Swingline stapler, I'll be more than a little surprised.

Tony Manero ★★★

When i decide how many stars to grant a film I've seen, I typically rely on the handy rubric I created when Cineplexus was born -- that is what the rubric is for, after all. There is, however, no accurate language in that guideline to describe Tony Manero. "Meh" (what "★★★" generally stands for) couldn't be farther from the true expression of emotions this film inspires. If I were forced to sum it up in only one word, that word would probably be an uncomfortable, disconcerted sigh.

Tony Manero is set in the dark and chaotic climate of Pinochet's Chilè and follows Raúl, a 52-year-old entertainer (so to speak) deeply obsessed with Saturday Night Fever, and especially with John Travolta's character in that film (whose name, you may recall, is Tony Manero). His string of actions, each more depraved than the last, suggest an ambition to somehow become Manero.

Does it sound funny? Put that hopeful notion out of your head. Raúl is a sociopath, though he has companions. There are a few fleeting moments of humor in their attempts to recreate the dances, costumes, and sets (kind of) from Saturday Night Fever, but even these leave you feeling guilty because of the sheer sadness of it all. The majority of the film is by turns depressing and horrifying as we're subjected to unpleasantnesses of every variety. The director, native Chilean Pablo Larrain, has chosen, quite deliberately, to make a picture that is patently unenjoyable, with no truly likeable characters and no sympathy for the audience.

So, back to the rating. Why on Earth deliver even an average rating to a film with so little entertainment value? Well, an average is precisely what I mean to suggest here. Icky though it was, Tony Manero is never half-assed or sloppy. Larrain has sought to create an appropriately frustrating and dark portrait of life in Santiago under dictator Pinochet, and his calculating strokes bear a certain resemblance to those of a work of fine art that's considered a masterpiece despite being disturbing – take the work of Francis Bacon (or, more recently, Jonathan Meese) for example. I appreciate the artistry here; nevertheless, I wish he'd been able to execute his vision in a way that was less...scarring.

After leaving the theater with my father, who had suggested earlier that evening that we go see the movie, my dad started to laugh. I asked him why, and perhaps his answer sums things up best: "Two reasons. First, despite my respect for it's artistry, that was the most disturbing movie I've ever seen,  and second, I feel like a terrible father for taking you to it." I assured him I could handle it. I was a film studies student, after all.