After a near-fatal plane crash, 21-year-old Lamb Mannerheim (Julianne Hough) is beginning to realize that the world is much bigger than her small, God-fearing Montana town. Armed with a huge insurance payout and a list of undone sins, there's only one place for her to get a taste of temptation... Las Vegas. And, with the help of some new friends, William Carr (Russell Brand) and Loray (Octavia Spencer), Lamb embarks on an eccentric odyssey of lost souls, broken faiths and cheap cocktails... a true journey of the heart.
Having built her reputation as a purveyor of witty wit (or preciously annoying p*ns, depending on your perspective) and somewhat campy explorations of the female experience with scripts like "Juno" and "Jennifer's Body," Diablo Cody takes a surprisingly restrained approach in her first experience behind the camera. To be sure, the setting of "Paradise" - the good Christian girl from Montana loses her faith and leaves for Las Vegas to learn about life - is rife with opportunities for indulgence in all sorts of pop-cultural observations and fish clichés. Out of the water. And indeed, the film's opening scene, in which the fatefully named character Lamb (Julianne Hough), after surviving a plane crash with horrific burns to her body, heads to her church and shocks the congregation by declaring " There is no God", shows little interest in avoiding the kind of easy condescension that does not seem promising for this pilgrim's progress.
With a sense of humor as sharp and tart as lemon juice, screenwriter Diablo Cody has proven herself to be one of the most refreshingly volatile voices in Hollywood since she wrote "Juno" in 2007. Her scripts brim with biting sarcasm and explosive confidence. Yet from the moment Julianne Hough's good girl-turned-rebel arrives in Las Vegas at the beginning of "Paradise," Cody's directorial debut, the writer-director seems as anxious and insecure as the central character in your film. Fortunately, Cody opts for a surprisingly sweet and generally irony-free story instead. There are a few mentions at Vegas id***cy and a scene in which a drunken Lamb is nearly taken advantage of by two id**ts, but for the most part, the filmmaker avoids bitc*y irreverence. Newly arrived at a saloon where she has her first drink in her life, Lamb befriends bartender William (Russell Brand, following his usual routine) and artist Loray (Octavia Spencer), both with an edgy but sweet touch, who guide our character in the right direction. As she tries out and then rejects typical Vegas pastimes like drinking and gambling, our heroine searches for her own way of life, something that lies halfway between the excess of Sin City and outright religious repression.
"Paradise" smartly avoids the cynical antics that characterize most Vegas-set films, though it can't find anything more captivating to replace them. Instead, this surprisingly lackluster film offers bland encounters, sentimental attachments, and largely wraps up its narrative. One of the worst of these scenes is a long crying session between Lamb and a prost**ute (Kathleen Rose Perkins) in a club bathroom, which tweaks but still embraces the old cliché that the prost**ute exists to meet the hero's non-sexual needs. Heroin. And while the film shows some interest in illustrating the plight of Vegas service workers, it's clear that they're only there to serve the interests of our angelically blonde protagonist. While Loray, a part-time film student, explains the concept of the "magical N**ro" to Lamb and insists that she has no interest in playing that role, she more or less does exactly that, providing the young girl with the tips she needs to achieve your self-discovery. But what Cody ignores is that simply offering self-criticism doesn't excuse a film for surrendering to what it's criticizing.
Despite a promising start, Cody's film soon unravels into a hodgepodge of missed opportunities. Films about Las Vegas invariably fall into one of two categories: either they embrace the city's sinful nature - as in "The Hangover," or they take scathing satirical digs at its cost - as in "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas". However, what Cody offers us is a cocktail of sugary confusion, which attempts to combine the two concepts with the seriousness of a quick wedding in Las Vegas. Her script doesn't hesitate to make sarcastic observations about the depraved environment, but it is also happy to see our innocent heroine and her two new friends (Russell Brand and Octavia Spencer, one an insufferable know-it-all and the other an insufferable alcoholic) happily connecting with so much depravity.
Holding the film together as best she can is Julianne Hough, who maintains Lamb's delightfully deadpan delivery of a naive charm that complements her character's crisis of faith. But unfortunately, Diablo Cody's inability to develop confidently as a director undermines much of her protagonist's work. The director does her initial directorial effort no favors by trusting Hough to run the show. Though beautiful in an above-average way, the stiff-necked "Dancing with the Stars" winner lacks the spark necessary to make us care. She is unconvincing as either a rebel or the kind of conservative Christian girl who would say things like "That smells like a wh**e" after smelling a stick of hotel soap. It's obvious that most of the time it's Cody, not Lamb, who's doing the talking, even though this conservative character couldn't be more opposed to Diablo. As for Brand, who is eager to get under Lamb's compression garments, he plays himself, with his signature thin voice. He and Spencer convincingly embody the tired, lived-in side of Vegas, guiding the wide-eyed blonde on a mundane tour of the city, something only locals experience (explaining the little-known fact that most of the Strip exists in a town called Paradise, not in Vegas). In case you think Spencer's casting might have been a casting choice that ignores racial issues, the script includes a winking digression about "the Magical N**ro."
"Juno" played with conventions, subverted clichés and truly created its own style. Seriously, how many imitations have tried to capture its cool charm since then, with middling success? Add "Paradise" to that list, as it takes Cody's own clichéd, over-the-top reality and shamelessly tries too hard. It doesn't get more confusing than a story about a programmed Catholic girl from Montana who gets a second chance at life after being burned alive in a plane crash, renounces God, and goes to live in the only place her naive mind can imagine what it's like. A hedonistic paradise of deliciously sinful experiences: the Las Vegas Strip (also known as Paradise, NV). It's so awkward that her first friendly encounter there jokingly asks if she got into the first five minutes of a p*rn film upon hearing the premise.
But here's the thing: the impression it gives is that Diablo Cody does this on purpose. The line itself is so directly self-reflexive that it would be a crime if it weren't. Add our burned girl with scars everywhere except her face; new friend Loray (Octavia Spencer) literally drawing attention to the fact that she is the stereotypical "Magic N**ro" in the story; narration so clearly ironic and typical of a fish out of water, and everything seems like satire. Much of this is also due to Hough's limited acting skills - this wide-eyed, personality less, mocked religious figure is probably his best performance - adding exaggerated theatrical expressions to each joke. She turns the film into a prolonged eye-roll; something far from horrible until the big "lesson learned" ending proves that the film is exactly what I thought it was mocking. Even this ending is confusing, as Cody's moral epiphany brings more parody. It's one thing to find out that Lamb's parents (Holly Hunter and a bald Nick Offerman) are "tolerant," but to have them subverted by saying, "as long as your beliefs remain very conservative" is too much. The joke is there, but Cody seems unable to let it exist on its own. Your constant desire to shove them down their throats ruins any mood they would have had on its own. If she spent less time on that and more time developing the story, "Paradise" could have been much better. Instead, it seems she thought adding more comedy would make us forget that the emotional connection built by Lamb and his new friends in Vegas is nothing more than a device to include said comedy.
When the credits roll, we are sure that the screenwriter used this work to criticize everything she condemns: American conservatism, criticizing the Republican Party trying to make her hometown seem like the worst place in the world to live full of fanatics religious and conservative people who don't know what they say and do, increasing all the lines and actions uttered from the mouths of these characters, especially those uttered from the mouth of the protagonist's father. It's as if the city were an extreme amplified version of "Footloose", since in this city you can't dance, drink, sing, date, in short, it seems like a conservative dictatorship to the screenwriter, something that everyone must escape to live their lives. Cody still has time to portray all men as walking trash (harassingly teasing the protagonist in the elevator, trying to take advantage of her in a bar after she's been drinking, etc.), and he also uses other themes from Hollywood's progressive playbook, trying to shove down shallow criticisms linked to blatant racism and how the conservative life full of constraints portrayed in an exaggerated way is harmful and reprehensible.
Having built her reputation as a purveyor of witty wit (or preciously annoying p*ns, depending on your perspective) and somewhat campy explorations of the female experience with scripts like "Juno" and "Jennifer's Body," Diablo Cody takes a surprisingly restrained approach in her first experience behind the camera. To be sure, the setting of "Paradise" - the good Christian girl from Montana loses her faith and leaves for Las Vegas to learn about life - is rife with opportunities for indulgence in all sorts of pop-cultural observations and fish clichés. Out of the water. And indeed, the film's opening scene, in which the fatefully named character Lamb (Julianne Hough), after surviving a plane crash with horrific burns to her body, heads to her church and shocks the congregation by declaring " There is no God", shows little interest in avoiding the kind of easy condescension that does not seem promising for this pilgrim's progress.
With a sense of humor as sharp and tart as lemon juice, screenwriter Diablo Cody has proven herself to be one of the most refreshingly volatile voices in Hollywood since she wrote "Juno" in 2007. Her scripts brim with biting sarcasm and explosive confidence. Yet from the moment Julianne Hough's good girl-turned-rebel arrives in Las Vegas at the beginning of "Paradise," Cody's directorial debut, the writer-director seems as anxious and insecure as the central character in your film. Fortunately, Cody opts for a surprisingly sweet and generally irony-free story instead. There are a few mentions at Vegas id***cy and a scene in which a drunken Lamb is nearly taken advantage of by two id**ts, but for the most part, the filmmaker avoids bitc*y irreverence. Newly arrived at a saloon where she has her first drink in her life, Lamb befriends bartender William (Russell Brand, following his usual routine) and artist Loray (Octavia Spencer), both with an edgy but sweet touch, who guide our character in the right direction. As she tries out and then rejects typical Vegas pastimes like drinking and gambling, our heroine searches for her own way of life, something that lies halfway between the excess of Sin City and outright religious repression.
"Paradise" smartly avoids the cynical antics that characterize most Vegas-set films, though it can't find anything more captivating to replace them. Instead, this surprisingly lackluster film offers bland encounters, sentimental attachments, and largely wraps up its narrative. One of the worst of these scenes is a long crying session between Lamb and a prost**ute (Kathleen Rose Perkins) in a club bathroom, which tweaks but still embraces the old cliché that the prost**ute exists to meet the hero's non-sexual needs. Heroin. And while the film shows some interest in illustrating the plight of Vegas service workers, it's clear that they're only there to serve the interests of our angelically blonde protagonist. While Loray, a part-time film student, explains the concept of the "magical N**ro" to Lamb and insists that she has no interest in playing that role, she more or less does exactly that, providing the young girl with the tips she needs to achieve your self-discovery. But what Cody ignores is that simply offering self-criticism doesn't excuse a film for surrendering to what it's criticizing.
Despite a promising start, Cody's film soon unravels into a hodgepodge of missed opportunities. Films about Las Vegas invariably fall into one of two categories: either they embrace the city's sinful nature - as in "The Hangover," or they take scathing satirical digs at its cost - as in "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas". However, what Cody offers us is a cocktail of sugary confusion, which attempts to combine the two concepts with the seriousness of a quick wedding in Las Vegas. Her script doesn't hesitate to make sarcastic observations about the depraved environment, but it is also happy to see our innocent heroine and her two new friends (Russell Brand and Octavia Spencer, one an insufferable know-it-all and the other an insufferable alcoholic) happily connecting with so much depravity.
Holding the film together as best she can is Julianne Hough, who maintains Lamb's delightfully deadpan delivery of a naive charm that complements her character's crisis of faith. But unfortunately, Diablo Cody's inability to develop confidently as a director undermines much of her protagonist's work. The director does her initial directorial effort no favors by trusting Hough to run the show. Though beautiful in an above-average way, the stiff-necked "Dancing with the Stars" winner lacks the spark necessary to make us care. She is unconvincing as either a rebel or the kind of conservative Christian girl who would say things like "That smells like a wh**e" after smelling a stick of hotel soap. It's obvious that most of the time it's Cody, not Lamb, who's doing the talking, even though this conservative character couldn't be more opposed to Diablo. As for Brand, who is eager to get under Lamb's compression garments, he plays himself, with his signature thin voice. He and Spencer convincingly embody the tired, lived-in side of Vegas, guiding the wide-eyed blonde on a mundane tour of the city, something only locals experience (explaining the little-known fact that most of the Strip exists in a town called Paradise, not in Vegas). In case you think Spencer's casting might have been a casting choice that ignores racial issues, the script includes a winking digression about "the Magical N**ro."
"Juno" played with conventions, subverted clichés and truly created its own style. Seriously, how many imitations have tried to capture its cool charm since then, with middling success? Add "Paradise" to that list, as it takes Cody's own clichéd, over-the-top reality and shamelessly tries too hard. It doesn't get more confusing than a story about a programmed Catholic girl from Montana who gets a second chance at life after being burned alive in a plane crash, renounces God, and goes to live in the only place her naive mind can imagine what it's like. A hedonistic paradise of deliciously sinful experiences: the Las Vegas Strip (also known as Paradise, NV). It's so awkward that her first friendly encounter there jokingly asks if she got into the first five minutes of a p*rn film upon hearing the premise.
But here's the thing: the impression it gives is that Diablo Cody does this on purpose. The line itself is so directly self-reflexive that it would be a crime if it weren't. Add our burned girl with scars everywhere except her face; new friend Loray (Octavia Spencer) literally drawing attention to the fact that she is the stereotypical "Magic N**ro" in the story; narration so clearly ironic and typical of a fish out of water, and everything seems like satire. Much of this is also due to Hough's limited acting skills - this wide-eyed, personality less, mocked religious figure is probably his best performance - adding exaggerated theatrical expressions to each joke. She turns the film into a prolonged eye-roll; something far from horrible until the big "lesson learned" ending proves that the film is exactly what I thought it was mocking. Even this ending is confusing, as Cody's moral epiphany brings more parody. It's one thing to find out that Lamb's parents (Holly Hunter and a bald Nick Offerman) are "tolerant," but to have them subverted by saying, "as long as your beliefs remain very conservative" is too much. The joke is there, but Cody seems unable to let it exist on its own. Your constant desire to shove them down their throats ruins any mood they would have had on its own. If she spent less time on that and more time developing the story, "Paradise" could have been much better. Instead, it seems she thought adding more comedy would make us forget that the emotional connection built by Lamb and his new friends in Vegas is nothing more than a device to include said comedy.
When the credits roll, we are sure that the screenwriter used this work to criticize everything she condemns: American conservatism, criticizing the Republican Party trying to make her hometown seem like the worst place in the world to live full of fanatics religious and conservative people who don't know what they say and do, increasing all the lines and actions uttered from the mouths of these characters, especially those uttered from the mouth of the protagonist's father. It's as if the city were an extreme amplified version of "Footloose", since in this city you can't dance, drink, sing, date, in short, it seems like a conservative dictatorship to the screenwriter, something that everyone must escape to live their lives. Cody still has time to portray all men as walking trash (harassingly teasing the protagonist in the elevator, trying to take advantage of her in a bar after she's been drinking, etc.), and he also uses other themes from Hollywood's progressive playbook, trying to shove down shallow criticisms linked to blatant racism and how the conservative life full of constraints portrayed in an exaggerated way is harmful and reprehensible.