Timberlake (Finally) Triumphs

A little Justin Timberlake magic goes a long way to turn around ho-hum concert

Two hours into the Justin Timberlake concert Thursday night at the Toyota Center, I was thinking to myself, staying at home and watching a mediocre Texans game would have been better than this.

The anticipation for the Houston stop on the singer's 20/20 Experience World Tour was off the charts, with tickets going for four to five times face value (a $175 ticket brought upwards of $800 to $1,000 on resale sites) in the hottest concert of the year. And why not? Timberlake is simply the greatest pop star of this generation.

But by intermission, my friend and I were ready to leave.

"You know it's not a party, until you let me drink with you," Timberlake said, adding, "This is to the South, baby." That got the biggest cheer of the night.

The stage set, with a wall that looked like it was made of white bathroom tiles and a boxy black floor with tiered steps on each end, was the ugliest one I've seen at a major concert tour. The lighting was so dim that it was often hard to spot Timberlake in the murkiness and there were no jumbo screens positioned around the arena to catch his expressions. The singer used variations of "Houston, are y'all ready?," "H-Town" and "Houston, Texas" so many times to pump up the crowd that my friend joked that we should start a drinking game and take a sip every time he mentioned the city's name.

Only we would have been drunk by the fifth song.

Timberlake, backed up by a large '40s style orchestra, looked dapper in a white dinner jacket, black vest and slacks, with black and white loafers, and slicked-back hair. And his singing, if not inspired, was certainly professional and at times soulful, particularly on "My Love," "LoveStoned," and "Cry Me a River." But he seemed hemmed in by the set, which didn't allow him to interact with the audience, and, he was not nearly as electric live-and-in-person as he was on TV at the MTV Video Music Awards, where his 15-minute performance remains a musical masterpiece.

Even diehard fans seemed a tad disappointed. One standing in line behind me at the concession stand at intermission, who had seen Timberlake the last time he was in Houston, gave the 32-year-old singer a weak 7 on a scale of 10, not exactly a ringing endorsement of the "President of Pop."

The second half of the show didn't start out much better, with a number of forgettable songs that had me looking at my watch (I had to admit, Timberlake, who by now was dressed totally in black, didn't skimp on time; the show lasted more than three hours).

And then something happened. On his 20th song, "Let the Groove Get In," the stage moved — and the singer got his mojo back.

The front part of the stage broke away, with Timberlake and his dancers on a long catwalk that slowly moved across the length of the arena. And the show came alive.

Free at last, Timberlake flirted with the ecstatic audience as he stood at the end of the bridge and then danced to the other side several times, letting his legs dangle over the crowd as he joyfully followed up with "That Girl," which has the infectious sing-along lyrics, "I'm in love with that girl, so don't be mad at me."

At the other end of the vast arena, he exited the bridge, stopped for a drink and mingled with the audience at a VIP bar. "You know it's not a party, until you let me drink with you," he said, adding, "This is to the South, baby."

That got the biggest cheer of the night.

He stopped on a small island in the crowd, strapped on a guitar and did his best Elvis imitation, swiveling his hips to "Heartbreak Hotel," which is OK because, after all, Timberlake grew up in Memphis. Then he paid tribute to Michael Jackson, with a cover of the haunting "Human Nature," before returning to his own slow dance hit, "What Goes Around.... Comes Around."

By then, all was forgiven.

But Timberlake didn't stop there. He revved up the crowd again with "Cabaret," before traveling back to the main stage to close with a cascade of his most popular hits, including "Take Back The Night," "Suit & Tie," and "Sexy Back," which had so many fans up out of their seats and dancing so hard that the Toyota Center was literally shaking.

At the end, he didn't milk the audience for applause, like many performers do before performing an already planned encore. He simply finished with a rousing extended rendition of "Mirrors." And then he was outa there.

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Movie Review

Dakota Fanning-led The Sun Never Sets needs more direction

Photo courtesy of Independent Film Company

Dakota Fanning in The Sun Never Sets.

The movies of writer/director Joe Swanberg have always been an acquired taste, as he prefers to give his actors a loose framework of a story and let them improvise most of their lines to give the films a more natural feel. Sometimes that approach can yield great results, and sometimes — as in The Sun Never Sets — it can result in addled and maddening storytelling.

Wendy (Dakota Fanning) is in her early 30s and at a crossroads in her life. When a friend announces she’s pregnant, she starts to re-evaluate what she wants, including her two-year relationship with the older Jack (Jake Johnson). Although they love each other, their disagreements on having more children and extracurricular activities call their long-term viability into question.

Jack, not wanting Wendy to settle, encourages her to explore her options where they live — Anchorage, Alaska — telling her he’ll be waiting should she strike out. What he doesn’t expect is that Wendy’s ex-boyfriend, Chuck (Cory Michael Smith), has returned to the city, giving her an attractive alternative. The three engage in a love triangle that proves frustrating and confusing for both the participants and the viewers.

What works best about the film is its location in Alaska, which rarely gets showcased in movies, and even more rarely in the way it is here. The story takes place in warmer months, and Swanberg gives his characters multiple opportunities to be outside, showing off Anchorage’s harbor, surrounding mountains, and seemingly vibrant city life. The subtle but effective way Swanberg frames various scenes makes the landscape enormously appealing.

It’s too bad, then, that the story never measures up to its surroundings. Too often Fanning, Johnson, Smith, and others seem to be grasping for their next line, unsure of what they want their character to do or say next. That lets their scenes mimic real conversations, but you might not realize how much you want scripted dialogue until you see actors trying to come up with their own in the moment.

The larger issue is that there’s no consistency from scene to scene about where the plot is heading. The characters of Wendy, Jack, and Chuck are extremely wishy-washy about their desires, with each of them vacillating back-and-forth in just how much they want to be with each other. Depending on your experience, this may or may not be true to life, but watching it is excruciating and not enjoyable or romantic in the slightest.

As actors, Fanning, Johnson, and Smith are talented and interesting, with each capable of connecting with viewers in different ways. But working in improvisation is a different beast, and only Johnson — who has worked with Swanberg multiple times — seems truly at home. A few others, like Debby Ryan and Anna Konkle, do well in the format and maybe deserved bigger parts.

Swanberg has proven in the past that his method of filmmaking can be insightful and entertaining, but that is not the case here. In The Sun Never Sets, his hands-off approach is a detriment to the flow of the film and the story as a whole, resulting in an experience that is far from what most viewers will want to go through.

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The Sun Never Sets is now playing in select theaters.

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