I don't like Renee Zellweger.

My FINAL 2008 Academy Award Predictions

2009-01-19T23:37:00.003-05:00

BEST PICTURE
Slumdog Millionaire – the only true 100% lock for a nomination. Mark my words, without any doubt or qualifiers, this is your Best Picture winner.
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button – seemingly safe, it's been in for all the guilds, it’s well liked, and now a $100+ million grosser, but it's losing momentum, and no one’s particularly passionate about it.
The Dark Knight – WGA, DGA and PGA noms are strong indicators, but snubs by SAG, BAFTA and HFPA are worrisome.
Milk –Has arguably the least momentum of the five, and—somewhat inexplicably to me—no passionate champions, with many deeming it unremarkable and a standard biography. I once thought this would swoop in for the win, but now, the nomination doesn't even seem assured, if likely.
WALL-E – the real wild card of the Best Picture race; was ineligible for the DGA and WGA, so its lack of placement there means nothing. In the negative column, Disney hasn’t been trying very hard to boost its chances/visibility, and the ‘Animated Feature’ category guarantees the film will already get some recognition, so that might be enough for many voters. Still, it’s the one film besides “Slumdog” that people seem to genuinely love and could earn many crucial #1 votes on ballots.

Very feasible possibilities:
Frost/Nixon – I’m probably underestimating it (it’s been nominated by every guild), and it’ll likely get the middle-of-the-road “Michael Clayton”/”Seabiscuit”/”Ray” slot. But I just have an odd feeling about “WALL-E” and I feel like the liked-but-not-loved “Frost/Nixon” will be the one to get the boot for the beloved little bot

Gran Torino – It’s a genuinely awful, schmaltzy, overacted, horribly written piece-of-shit, but it’s beloved by critics, audiences and (I hear) academy members, and I’ve learned to never underestimate the gay crushes that older, heterosexual males have on Clint

Doubt – Much love floating around, but I just don’t see it

The Wrestler – As much as I love it, I never thought this had a chance at a Best Picture nod – it’s too dark, depressing, gritty, small – but it’s gotten strong support from a large number of the guilds. It’s still very unlikely, but stranger things have happened

Revolutionary Road – should be a frontrunner in a just world, but voters seemingly got vibes of entitlement from its Oscar pedigree, and a number of them have admitted off-the-record that it was too gloomy/”depressing” for their tastes

BEST DIRECTOR
David Fincher, “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
Gus Van Sant, “Milk”
Christopher Nolan, “The Dark Knight”
DannyBoyle, “Slumdog Millionaire”
Ron Howard, “Frost/Nixon”

I can’t figure out who, but I think one of the above (could be anyone except Boyle) will get bumped out in favor of Woody Allen (“Vicky Cristina Barcelona”), Darren Arronofsky (“The Wrestler”) or Jonathan Demme (“Rachel Getting Married”)

BEST ACTOR
Clint Eastwood, “Gran Torino”
Richard Jenkins, “The Visitor”
Frank Langella, “Frost/Nixon”
Sean Penn, “Milk”
Mickey Rourke, “The Wrestler”

Very feasible possibilities:
- Josh Brolin, “W.”
- Brad Pitt, “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
- Leonardo DiCaprio, “Revolutionary Road”

BEST ACTRESS
Anne Hathaway, “Rachel Getting Married”
Sally Hawkins, “Happy-Go-Lucky”
Melissa Leo, “Frozen River”
Meryl Streep, “Doubt”
Kate Winslet, “Revolutionary Road”

Very feasible possibilities:
- Kristen Scott-Thomas, “I’ve Loved You So Long”
- Angelina Jolie, “Changeling”
- Cate Blanchett, “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR
Josh Brolin, “Milk”
Robert Downey, Jr., “Tropic Thunder”
Philip Seymour Hoffman, “Doubt”
Heath Ledger, “The Dark Knight”
Dev Patel, “Slumdog Millionaire”

Very feasible possibilities:
- Michael Shannon, “Revolutionary Road”
- James Franco, “Milk”
- Eddie Marsan, “Happy-Go-Lucky”

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS
Amy Adams, “Doubt”
Penelope Cruz, “Vicky Cristina Barcelona”
Viola Davis, “Doubt”
Marisa Tomei, “The Wrestler”
Kate Winslet, “The Reader”

Very feasible possibilities:
- Rosemarie Dewitt, “Rachel Getting Married”
- Debra Winger, “Rachel Getting Married”
- Taraji P. Henson, “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
- Freida Pinto, “Slumdog Millionaire”

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY
“The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
“The Dark Knight”
“Doubt”
“Frost/Nixon”
“Slumdog Millionaire”

Very feasible possibilities:
- “The Reader”
- “Revolutionary Road”
- “The Class”

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY
“Milk”
“Rachel Getting Married”
“Vicky Cristina Barcelona”
“WALL-E”
“The Wrestler”

Very feasible possibilities:
- “The Visitor”
- “Gran Torino”
- “Happy-Go-Lucky”

The Best of 2008

2008-12-24T02:53:00.010-05:00

Well, yeah, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? Here’s the deal: after graduating college in May, and floundering for six months, I got a job. “Okay,” you may say, “so you’ve been busy, but why no reviews at all?” Well, this job of mine, it makes writing film reviews a conflict of interest, let’s leave it at that. I’ve yet to determine if I can write the occasional review or not, but at the least, I thought I could right a semi-farewell (I’ll be posting things at least once in a rare while), and share my top movies of 2008. I’m also attempted to list my 10 favorite performances in each acting category, but in some circumstances, I wasn’t able to thin out the heard to any less than 11 or 12. In the interest of full disclosure, I’ve yet to see “Marley and Me” and “Bedtime Stories,” but something tells me my list will remain intact. That said, all the ordering is tentative, and seems to change from day to day. If there’s anything you think I overlooked or missed, feel free to comment or chastise:

25. "Forgetting Sarah Marshall"

24. "Son of Rambow"

23. "Be Kind Rewind"

22. "Tropic Thunder"

21. "Reprise"

20. "Australia"

19. "Blindness"

18. "Let the Right One In"

17. "Young @ Heart"

16. "The Visitor"

15. "Shine a Light"

14. "Cloverfield"

13. "Slumdog Millionaire"

12. "The Wrestler"

11. "Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father"

10. "Burn After Reading"

9. "The Fall"

8. "The Dark Knight"

7. "In Bruges"

6. "Milk"

5. "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button"

4. "Synecdoche, New York"

3. "Revolutionary Road"

2. "WALL•E"

1. "Rachel Getting Married"

BEST ACTOR
Josh Brolin, “W.”
Leonardo DiCaprio, “Revolutionary Road”
Colin Farrell, “In Bruges”
Brendan Gleeson, “In Bruges”
Phillip Seymour Hoffman, “Synecdoche, New York”
Richard Jenkins, “The Visitor”
Frank Langella, “Frost/Nixon”
Danny McBride, “The Foot Fist Way”
Sean Penn, “Milk”
Sam Rockwell, “Snow Angels”
Mickey Rourke, “The Wrestler”

BEST ACTRESS
Kate Beckinsale, “Snow Angels”
Anne Hathaway, “Rachel Getting Married”
Sally Hawkins, “Happy-Go-Lucky”
Melissa Leo, “Frozen River”
Frances McDormand, “Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day”
Julianne Moore, “Savage Grace”
Meryl Streep, “Doubt”
Catinca Untaru, “The Fall”
Naomi Watts, “Funny Games”
Michelle Williams, “Wendy and Lucy”
Kate Winslet, “Revolutionary Road”

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR
Russell Brand, “Forgetting Sarah Marshall”
Josh Brolin, “Milk”
George Clooney, “Burn After Reading”
Robert Downey, Jr., “Tropic Thunder”
Ralph Fiennes, “In Bruges”
James Franco, “Pineapple Express”
Philip Seymour Hoffman, “Doubt”
Bill Irwin, “Rachel Getting Married”
Heath Ledger, “The Dark Knight”
Brad Pitt, “Burn After Reading”
Michael Shannon, “Revolutionary Road”
David Strathairn, “My Blueberry Nights”

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS
Patricia Clarkson, “Married Life”
Penelope Cruz, “Elegy”
Penelope Cruz, “Vicky Cristina Barcelona”
Viola Davis, “Doubt”
Rosemarie DeWitt, “Rachel Getting Married”
Samantha Morton, “Synecdoche, New York”
Amy Poehler, “Baby Mama”
Emma Thompson, “Brideshead Revisited”
Marisa Tomei, “The Wrestler”
Debra Winger, “Rachel Getting Married”

"Four Christmases"

2008-11-27T15:56:00.001-05:00

I admit, I entered “Four Christmases” ready to hate it, fueled by the non-stop bombardment by the awful, unfunny trailers, which made it look like an uninspired, stupid, made-by-committee, mass-appealing comedy with a wacky high-concept premise and two mismatched stars. So, I was more than a little surprised when the movie kicked off with a jarringly risque sequence of our lead couple (Reese Witherspoon and Vince Vaughn) role-playing a pick-up scenario in public and then fucking in the bathroom. Even more surprising, the movie keeps up the kinda-funny, chuckle-earning momentum for about 15 minutes… before it devolves into exactly the sort of piece of shit you worried it might be. I’m sure you know the premise, but if you don’t, Kate (Witherspoon) and Gary (Vaughn) each have divorced parents, try to avoid seeing them, but after an unfortunate vacation cancellation, they must visit each parent/family for Christmas all in one day. Aside from how many legitimate, well-respected actors are involved here (Sissy Spacek, Robert Duvall, Jon Voight, Mary Steenburger), what’s most disarming about the movie is how mean-spirited and unpleasant it is (oddly reminiscent of Vaughn’s last holiday film, “Fred Claus”) , entirely consisting of mocking lower-class people and repeatedly reinforcing how miserable it is to spend time with one’s family. Cynical holiday fare could work if there’s a modicum of wit or a subversive take on things, but this is bottom-of-the-barrel, broad humor (much of it scatological) including every joke you could imagine that normally gets trotted out in such flicks, ad nauseum. It’s one of those movies where everything in the house gets destroyed and then a fire starts. Oh, and there’s a horny grandma thrown in the mix, of course.

Let me describe a scene to help give you the picture of how half-assed and forced the conflicts / wacky situations in this movie are. While going to the bathroom, Kate finds a pregnancy test, and out of curiosity if she’s pregnant, she pees on it. Her niece bursts into the bathroom (which always happen, right?) and snatches it out of Kate’s hands. “What’s this, Aunt Kate?” “Oh, it’s a magic marker!” “Mom says magic markers aren’t allowed in the house!” (What?) Niece then runs away and Kate chases her into an inflatable jump-jump. Kate gets severely beaten by multiple children and then the niece puts the EPT in her mouth, until Kate tells her that there’s pee on it, and she spits it out. Aaaaand scene. Sound funny to you? You’re in for an 80-minute treat. On the positive, it may not be funny, but I semi-admire the tenacity to mock religious fervor in a Christmas movie, and the movie does admittedly have one lone laugh: Jon Favreau, as Vaughn’s brother, and his wife playing Taboo (“This is the one man besides you I’m allowed to sleep with…” “John Grisham!”) But by that point, you can barely muster up a chuckle after the plethora of homophobic lesbian jokes, vomiting baby gags, jokes mocking fat people and general unpleasantness. Nonetheless, I’m sure it’ll still probably be a hit because it’s dumb, mass-appealing, and has a “nice” ending where the two make up (which is essentially a lame, less effective re-working of Vaughn’s apology to Jennifer Aniston in “The Break-Up”). I pray audiences will prove me wrong and prove smarter than we’ve come to expect, but somehow I doubt it.

"Australia"

2008-11-26T11:03:00.000-05:00

It’s been a rather busy week (new job, apartment hunting, etc.), so I didn’t really get around to writing up an early reaction to Baz Luhrmann’s “Australia,” but in light of the reviews that have come into the fray now that it’s opened, I feel obliged to pipe up. I totally understand why this movie might not be everyone’s bag, and some might find themselves viscerally put off by it, but as a bigger-budget recreation of the classically romantic epics that thrived decades ago, it’s just about perfect. Far too much emphasis has been placed on behind-the-scenes shenanigans, such as the scrambling to finish the film, and Baz’s indecision on the ending (for the record, the ending here strikes just the right melancholy tone, neither too saccharine, nor an out-of-place downer); the proof is in the pudding, so to speak, and the finished product shows no sign of any sort of rushing or rough edges. It’s unsure whether American audiences will have any desire to see a nearly three-hour film about a foreign land, starring two actors who aren’t intrinsic box office draws (my money’s on ‘no’), but it’s an entertainment unlike anything out there at the moment, and it’s another example of why the release of a new Baz movies is a major event for those with any stake in creative expression.

Opening in September 1939 with a crawl about Pearl Harbor and Australia’s “stolen generations” (mixed-race children taken away from their families by the government, in the hopes of “breeding the black out of them”), “Australia” tells the story of Lady Sarah Ashley (Nicole Kidman), a well-off English aristocrat who travails to Oz to visit her husband at his cattle ranch, with the suspicion he may be cheating on her. Escorted by a man known only as “The Drover” (Hugh Jackman), she discovers her husband has been killed by “a black” named King George. After firing her supposed cohort (David Wenham) who’s been in cahoots with the business opposition, Sarah and Drover must herd 2,000 cattle and deal with the rough terrain, intolerant, wealthy opposition, and eventually, the Japenese’s bombing of Dawin in 1941. The whole film is narrated by Nullah (Brandon Walter), a half-caste child who, after his mother is killed, becomes the makeshift child of Sarah and The Drover, and is our window into everything that happens.

The fact that the movie is so overstuffed with ideas and genres made it a more exciting beast to watch for me, not less. Luhrmann goes out of his way to always make everything gorgeous to look at, but certain scenes – and predictably, the scenery – are jaw-dropping in their beauty, and that’s not even including scenes that are breath-taking for other reasons (a truly stupendous cattle stampede sequence, and a gratuitously exploitative Hugh Jackman shower scene). The costumes aren’t big and flourishy, but they’re noticeably lovely, and the the seemingly everpresent score and cinematography add to the gloriously romantic nature. Once we get past the first reel, the film lacks the freneticism and strikingly original visuals of “Moulin Rouge!” and “Romeo and Juliet,” and understandably so, but despite the levels of homage of tributes to the past, the end result is always most emphatically Baz, with his cinematic love cranked up to 11 in every shot, wallowing in his occasional excesses and a clear passion for every shot dripping off the screen. Luhrmann is intentionally evoking a long-gone style of filmmaking here, and I think the reason he succeeds is that he doesn’t play it self-conscious or winking at the camera, nor is the delivery overly earnest; the cheeky opening minutes, including Kidman’s blood-curdling shrieks over her clothes being ruined and her beatific cooing of a kangaroo right before it gets comically shot to death, establish almost immediately that this is not nearly as self-serious as the trailers seemed to indicate.

Neither Kidman or Jackman are playing the most complex characters here, but I genuinely loved both of these potentially iconic performances. As Lady Ashley, who starts off ghost white and gets suitably tan and grimy as the film wears on (though oddly, her forehead remains immovable throughout), Kidman yells, coos, cracks a whip, and is just a whole lot of fun to watch, which we haven’t seen her be in a long while. She’s been the recipient of some backlack lately, causing brilliant, complex performances like her’s in “Margot at the Wedding” to be overlooked, but this role seems to be her attempt to get back in the good graces with the mainstream public, as an enjoyable, likeable presence. Jackman is pretty much perfectly cast as The Drover, a great rugged romantic lead if their ever was won. He delivers the emotional elements when he needs to, and he’s totally convincing as the saintly, tolerant do-gooder, transcending his blatant casting as eye candy. At the 95-minute mark, the visual of him with his scruff shaven and in a suit is almost comically played as a (rather effective) money shot, and his body is repeatedly and deservedly lingered upon by Luhrmann. Wenham plays the most villainous of villains here, and you know from minute one who the bad guy is. Even though he plays him without camp or garish cartoon theatrics, I kept wondering, “Shouldn’t he be off somewhere tying a lady to the traintracks?”

The film is often very sincere and employs stylistic decisions that could certainly be dismissed as ‘corny,’ most notably, a fantastic “Wizard of Oz” motif that’s used throughout the film, and a bit of magical realism flourishes wedged in at convenient moments. People at my screening openly, obnoxiously chuckled at certain moments, and some will certainly roll their eyes frequently, but I think the flick needs to be entered into with an understanding that it doesn’t necessarily have the same goals as every other modern film. In addition, anyone with any experience with Luhrmann’s past work knows he’s not one to curb emotional or thematic scales that others might find to be ‘going too far.’ “Australia” tries to be all movies for all people, and I found that thrilling rather than tonally inconsistent. The much-ballyhooed romance doesn’t begin till the 70-minute mark, and the war/action elements kick in 30-40 minutes before the film ends. True to his old-fashioned conceit, Luhrmann tries to deliver a show that can capture the imagination of all demographics, and it makes for a terrifically enjoyable 165-minute experience that should really be seen on the biggest screen possible.

"Milk"

2008-11-24T22:25:00.003-05:00

Rob Epstein’s 1984 “The Times of Harvey Milk” is one of the most compelling, powerful documentaries ever, and while I’ve been eagerly anticipating Gus Van Sant’s “Milk,” the narrative film re-telling the same story, this time cast with movie stars, it was more due to the power of the material than Van Sant’s involvement. No one questions Van Sant’s place in cinema history,but – like Spike Lee and Brian De Palma – his creative success rate is far outpaced by his reputation and name recognition. But with “Milk,” he more than simply delivers a standard presentation of unquestionably great material, his construction and delivery enhance what could have been. While the new film may not reach the heights of the doc, it’s one worthy of Harvey Milk’s story and, perhaps due to circumstances beyond its control, may resonate emotionally with audiences stronger than any other release this year. Ed Gonzalez’s comparison of “Milk” to “Kinsey,” in his review on Slant Magazine, is right on the money; both films refuse to hand-hold or wallow in easy emotion, while choosing to focus almost entirely on their subject’s careers and illuminating their revelatory reallignments of societal norms and hard-battled fights for understanding.

For those who don’t know, the film tells the story of Harvey Milk (Sean Penn), the first openly gay man elected to major political office, dubbed “the Mayor of Castro Street,” largely responsible for turning San Francisco into the gay mecca it is, and the first (at least most vocal) public proponent of gay rights, pride and sense of community. The film is narrow in scope, offering not a portrait of Harvey Milk the man (nor a “balanced” depiction, including his faults), but rather his deeds – the historic breadth of his political career – or rather, what he should be/is remembered for. Along the way, we share in Harvey’s relationships with boyfriends Scott Smith (James Franco) and Jack Lira (Diego Luna), allies CleveJones (Emile Hirsch) and Anne Kronenberg (Allison Pill), and political nemesiis Dan White (Josh Brolin), John Briggs (Denis O’Hare) and Anita Bryant (herself in archival footage). Those who know the story (for those who don’t, I won’t “spoil”), the “epilogue” of Harvey Milk’s life story isn’t included here, and while I initially questioned the decision, it allows the film to close on a note of hope and empowerment rather than despair, without feeling unearned or painting over tragedy (we do get a closing crawl telling us what happened).

I can’t put my finger on why, but something irks me about A-list stars being “daring” by strapping on their gay hat to win awards, and more often than not, I don’t really buy them as the genuine article. So, like me, you may bristle a bit when Hirsch or Penn first prance across the screen, but soon enough, I bought everyone (with one notable exception I’ll get into in a bit) as members of the community, and performances seem to have been given with utmost respect and lack of showiness of creative vanity. Like most of you, I’m bored by the (admittedly deserved) constant praise for Sean Penn; like Philip Seymour Hoffman, he’s always stellar, so the acclaim quickly becomes redundant or tiring. With his portrayal of Harvey Milk, though, Penn’s performance is predictably great, yes, but staggering nonetheless, showing no signs of Penn himself, nor the dramatic intensity of any of his other performances in recent years. Whether or not this earns him a 2nd Oscar, this is one of his best performances and certainly his most appealing and tender.

As councilman Dan White, Brolin continues his amazing 13-month hot streak, imbuing a character who could have been played in a reductive manner or as a “villain” by a lesser actor with depth and complexity. He plays White as the deeply conflicted, ambiguous man he seemingly was, and doesn’t allow us to either laugh at him or simply hate him (sequences of White inviting Milk to his son’s christening and drunkenly rambling to Harvey at a party are masterstrokes). Franco is quite good and subtle as Smith, though I don’t quite understand the Oscar buzz. The character serves a purpose, but it’s just not much of a role; Franco’s Saul in “Pineapple Express” was a significantly more interesting character and performance. While the generally overvalued Hirsch gives one of his better performances (despite playing it up a bit too much in his first scene), Luna, regrettably, is to “Milk” what Thandie Newton was to “W.”: an out-of-place embarrassment. As a drunk, lispy, latin queen, Luna’s character is increasingly irritating, jarring, and whenever he’s on screen, you wish he wasn’t.

It’s perhaps unfair the significant credence Prop 8 passing has lent this movie, and it’s almost impossible to view it in an objective light; if nothing else, the discriminatory measure going through has significantly improved “Milk’s” Best Picture chances. Everytime Proposition 6 is discussed or whispers of foreboding “anti-gay laws,” one can’t help but note the relevance; some have cited Prop 8 passing as making this movie more timely than ever, but it would’ve been timely either way, just it could’ve been relevent in showing how far we’ve come in 30 years, rather than how little. But either way, relevance wouldn’t matter if the film didn’t work on its own merits, and whether in 2008 or ten years down the line, the poetic filmmaking, entertainment factor and emotional power will resonate loudly. The inevitable moden comparison will be how it stacks up to the merits and gayness of the last big gay movie, “Brokeback Mountain.” While I don’t think this quite earns that film’s ‘masterpiece’ status, in terms of content I think it tells its story in a more accessible and more overtly emotional manner (you won’t hear cries of ‘boring’ from the plebes this time), though it’s also more overtly GAY. Those who tried to make bullshit claims that “Brokeback’s” meditation on the stigma of the closet was somehow a “universal love story” will have no such grounds here.

Almost certainly going to be taken as an issue movie due to the timing of its release, “Milk” is a film that doesn’t use its subject matter as a crutc, but uses it as an impetus for all involved to bring their A-game, and delivering the movie it deserves, easily one of the best of 2008. All things considered, it’s probably Gus Van Sant’s best film, and for those worried there’s little of his tough evident for this straightforward Oscar bait (a la “Finding Forrester”), it falls stylistically between “Good Will Hunting” and his protracted artiness in films like “Paranoid Park.” Not much pretentious here to alienate, but we got the odd insightful, beautiful shot (a murdered gay man’s body reflected in an alert whistle lying in the street), seemingly patchwork insertion of archival footage, and an appealingly murky, ‘70s documentary-style aesthetic that I really loved. With a tremendous performance from Sean Penn, and a time theme that works in tandem with its cumatively stand-alone poower, “Milk” is every bit the “important” work it’ll be praised as, but also tremendously satisfying as a moviegoing experience of any stripe.

"Twilight"

2008-11-18T22:39:00.000-05:00

Well, add “Twilight” to the list of things that makes me feel old and out of touch. Stephenie Meyer’s series of vampire romance books with Mormon undertones have taken tween girls and their moms by storm, and the phenomenon seems to have hit a new crescendo with the release of the movie version this Friday. Frankly, I just don’t get it. For a movie so hugely anticipated (yet I don’t personally know anyone who wants to see it), there’s not a whole lot to say about “Twilight,” except that I don’t quite understand what someone might find interesting about it. Like a tamer, lamer, chaster version of HBO’s “True Blood,” Catherine Hardwicke’s adaptation follows the PG-rated, sexless romance between human girl (Kristin Stewart) and vampire boy (Robert Pattinson) and their tortured, boring emo conflicts about what they should do. For a movie where not much happens – everything seems to be set-up – the movie takes forever to tell its story and feels epic (if I didn’t have a watch, I’d have sworn the 120-minute flick ran a whole hour longer). It takes about half its running time for Stewart to discover beautiful boy’s vampire origins, and then we get endless montages where pop music plays over conversations between the two where we don’t even hear the dialogue, punctuated by occasional reminders that boy has to fight his bloodlust when around girl so he’s not tempted to instinctively kill her (think that’ll play into the finale?).

Not much stuck out as “awful” here, but for a film that’s an encapsulation of such a phenomenon, I was surprised how flavorless and flat-out boring the majority of “Twilight” is, more often than not resembling a particularly generic WB pilot. As for Pattinson, the new heralded movie star gracing the cover of every magazine, he’s sure purty as hell to look at, but he seems completely bereft of range, and even worse, charisma; the most expression he musters throughout is his frequent, increasingly hilarious intense stares (his eyes bug so many times, I worried for his health). The passionate gazing all-around goes to such an extreme that I genuinely thought it was being played for laughs at first, but like dozens of other elements, they’re completely intended as drama; there are occasional moments of fun kitsch, made more amusing by the fact that they don’t seem to be self-aware, but there’s not nearly enough of them to earn this the tag of “guilty pleasure” or “unintended comedy.” Rather, it all comes off as a vaguely boring, bloated, familiar work filled with unintentionally goofy touches (how do the people living in this town not notice that everyone covered with ghost white makeup is obviously a vampire?). Fans of the books should be satisfied, if not ecstatic, but everyone else will be wondering what the fuck the fuss is about.

"Bolt"

2008-11-17T21:24:00.002-05:00

Though Pixar has admittedly upped the standards we once held animated films to, it's not really fair to criticize or dismiss the latest toon just because it doesn't stack up to the works within that company's catalog; few films -- live-action or animated -- do. But, Disney's "Bolt" is one of the few such flicks that actually merits a comparison to a Pixar film; unfortunately, that film is "Cars." Market-researched within an inch of its life, the thoroughly mediocre "Bolt" has been carefully made with the 4-10 demo in mind, from its inclusion of willing-statutory-rape-participant Miley Cyrus, to a by-the-numbers, easy-to-follow plot about a deluded TV-star dog (unenthusiastically voiced by John Travolta) trying to find his way home. We get even more insincere celebration of Americana from Disney, another "leave consumerism/Hollywood behind and embrace your inner fun/true self" subplot (a la "Cars") and a strategically inserted intended scene-stealer, this time an overzealous hamster who worships the ground Bolt walks on. The animation's very pretty -- especially if you see the 3-D version -- but the uninspired plotting, familiar jokes and phony emotional beats serve to make this feel like a movie you've seen many a time before (1985-born me was particularly reminded of "Homeward Bound," "Oliver & Company," "Bingo" and "Beethoven"; incidentally, all better films than this... well, maybe not "Bingo"). The smallest of tykes will be wowed and McCain-voting suburban moms will scream "Cute!" till they turn blue, but this is an inferior animated product, even before the paint-by-numbers plot leads to a laughably contrived climactic set-piece involving a fire. Between "Beverly Hills Chihuahua," "Madagascar 2," and this, it's enough to make any moviegoing parents long for this past summer, where "Kung Fu Panda," "Speed Racer," "WALL-E," "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2," and even "Space Chimps" sufficiently filled the decent kids-movie void.

"Slumdog Millionaire"

2008-11-12T17:09:00.000-05:00

Rebounding extremely quickly after the undervalued-but-still-not-quite-successful “Sunshine,” Danny Boyle delivers a shot of heartfelt cinematic adrenaline with “Slumdog Millionaire,” the Barack Obama of the 2008 fall movie season (I’ll be neither the first, nor the last, to make that analogy). Don’t be put off by the vaguely unpleasant title – just saying it to my parents made them bristle – and run in the other direction; in doing so, you’d miss one of the more unique, buoyant, universal movies of the year, filled as it is with such a rich tapestry of styles, emotions, and visceral exubence. Showing little elements of each of Boyle’s past films (“Trainspotting,” “Millions,” “28 Days Later,” “The Beach,” “A Life Less Ordinary”) to make one perfect, cohesive whole, the film ultimately defies easy classification, though if pressed, I’d dub it a drama-adventure-fantasy-romance.

The Dickensian tale centers around Mumbai-born Jamal (Dev Patel), a call-center tea servant, who’s somehow made it to the final round of India’s “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire,” despite being merely a “slumdog” (i.e. a kid from a slum). The film kicks off with Jamal being arrested before he can answer the final question, and being subsequently tortured and questioned by the police as to how exactly he cheated to make it so far on the show. This is all used as a framing device to tell Jamal’s story, taking us from when he was 7 years old till now, as he has one flashback explanation after another that led him to wear he is now. The structure of the movie (superficially resembling “The Usual Suspects”), allows Boyle to tell all these incredibly compelling mini-stories, ranging from the comic to the tragic, and employing so many different visual and thematic styles. It runs a full two hours, but never stops moving, and pretty much every moment hits on some level, somehow enriching whatever comes next.

I think there’s a good chance “Slumdog” may earn the “crowd-pleaser” slot among the five Best Picture nominees in January, but regardless of potential award riches, it’s just a great “movie” movie (i.e. delivers on just about everything that mainstream audiences go to the movies for) and will likely benefit from colorful word-of-mouth all holiday season long. You’re going to hear the term “crowd-pleaser” applied to this movie quite a bit, and rightfully so, but that expression doesn’t quite do justice to just what this movie delivers. This isn’t an staunchly enjoyable upper, but rather an exciting, occasionally devastating, involving journey that’s always entertaining, but not always easy. There are tragedies and horrors littered throughout (we witness an anti-Muslim massacre, the blinding of young children and child prostitutious, among others), and the movie makes them sting – not just be footnotes along the way – but somehow, through it all, the film retains an effervescent “up” quality that’s infectious.

As patchy an emotional journey it all may be, there’s nicely parsed out humor (an early dive into a pool of human shit is hilarious rather than revolting) and a consistently awesome soundtrack, including multiple M.I.A. songs for those who dig that sort of thing (guilty), to get us through the tougher moments. The movie doesn’t strive for hyperrealism with its occasional knowing embraces of the perfect/convenient and sentimentality, but it’s difficult to quibble with even these moments as they always feel earned, whether by the characters, the film, or us. The movie’s a big believer in fate, and gets us to be too. It’s also a big believer in Bollywood sensibilities, tossing in a pinch here and there, reaching their apex in the irresistible closing credits sequence, the most joyful, transcendant catharsis I can remember in a film in recent years. While I positively adore Boyle’s direction, Anthony Dod Mantle’s cinematography, and their use of music and visual poetry, “Slumdog Millionaire” mostly won me over by appealing to my most base instincts, putting a lump in my throat, and just thrilling me with its artful manner of entertainment. Get in on the ground floor now, because this is the “little” movie you’ll be hearing about all season long.

"Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa"

2008-11-12T14:13:00.004-05:00

No one much beyond the age of potty-training thought "Madagascar" any sort of great movie, but I liked it moderately better than the critical reception it earned. It was entertaining overall, occasionally very funny, just unconventional enough to be unique, featured at least two hilarious vocal performances (Sacha Baron Cohen and Andy Richter), and brandishing just a pinch of dark humor. There was no real logical argument necessitating a sequel, though, beyond the obvious monetary reasons (the first made $500 million worldwide), but that's fine as long as the follow-up remains funny, entertaining, and justifies its existence. However, despite a $63 million opening weekend and inexplicably decent reviews, "Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa" feels like a forced, tired sequel in every respect (think "The Whole Ten Yards" and "Nutty Professor II") that jumps through "Saw"-like narrative hoops just to extend things unnecessarily and further cash in.

Sure, there are some laughs to be had -- the penguins and Baron Cohen's King Julian can be relied upon for consistent funny -- but does anyone really care about Alex's (Ben Stiller) daddy issues, Marty's (Chris Rock) identity crisis or Gloria's (Jada Pinkett-Smith) love interest? It's all a lazy rehash of the first film that doesn't work nearly as hard to make us give a shit; it's the sort of sequel that just delivers the characters we liked the first time around and expects that to be enough. To be fair, the movie's just lazy, not terrible, and any animated kids movie featuring an Iraq War joke deserves some props for ambition, but the whole thing can best be summed up by its final shot: our four leads dancing away from the camera for no reason. There's no celebration happening, there's not even any music playing, they're just dancing because the studio thinks that's what we like and what we want, even if it's completely unnecessary and makes no sense.

"Repo! The Genetic Opera"

2008-11-05T21:58:00.000-05:00

Some movies are just not for everyone, while others are for seemingly no one. I’m not actually sure who the audience is for “Repo! The Genetic Opera,” as I think I may be one of a dozen people who’s an equal fan of horror films and musicals. But at one point in the movie, during an on-stage performance, Paris Hilton’s surgically grafted-on face falls off her head; that’s just one of the sorts of images you can find in Darren Lynn Bousman’s “Repo!” that other movies just can’t rival. This horror-musical is complete schlock, and not fully successful schlock at that, but there’s undeniably pleasures to be had during its 90 minute duration, and it’s be tough to find much more interesting/ambitious projects in 2008. Based on an underground 2002 stage play (which Bousman directed) and taking place in 2056, an epidemic of organ failures has run rampant. A multi-billion dollar company called GeneCo, run by Paul Sorvino, begins to offer organ transplants via payment plans for those lacking sufficient funds to purchase the body parts. However, if you miss a payment, the repo man (Anthony Stewart Head) is sent out to reclaim the organ. We get about three related story strands, and all roads lead to the finale at the much-touted Genetic Opera, headlined by robotic-eyed Blind Mag (Sarah Brightman). As a rock opera, the entire film is sung-through, and while the songs aren’t BAD—they’re serviceable—they’re also what keeps this from being a totally recommendable experiment. There are traces of Sondheim – the music is as atonal as can be – but nowhere near the quality, and though occasional bars are catchy, rarely does an entire song warrant being remembered.

It is not, as Ms. Hilton proclaimed on Letterman, “Like ‘Rocky Horror Picture Show’ – but better.” In fact, there are moments where one is tempted to look away out of embarrassment. The direction seems aimless, with Bousman having little idea where to point his camera, resulting in the film’s look varying between ‘music video’ and ‘porn flick’. Still, there’s an undeniably compelling visual element to it all, especially the production design, with so much to look it, all the more impressive for being done apparently on a smallish budget. Sorvino deserves points for camping it up the hardest in a film full of over-the-top B-grade actors, while leading lady (and former Spy Kid) Alexa Vega all-too-often employs the Hilton/Lohan style of singing, and it’s disappointing Brightman (“The Phantom of the Opera’s” original Christine) isn’t better utilized. Still, Hilton herself seems to be having fun here, even if she doesn’t seem quite aware what the movie she’s starring in is (nor did she on Letterman, where she described it as “a comedy”). It’s not a movie I can quite recommend or embrace – unsurprisingly, the reaction at my screening was brutal – but for those, like me, who rarely find ambition to be a bad thing, should at least find it tremendously interesting. Hell, you even get an awesome cameo by Joan Jett. Overall, I had fun, I was entertained, I’d watch it again; If only the music was any good, it’d really be something to see.

"Role Models"

2008-11-05T21:55:00.001-05:00

The most accurate summation of David Wain’s “Role Models”: it has its moments. About a third of the jokes really land, while the rest seems as generic as can be, with the emphasis on story beats and familiarity making its 99-minute length seem quite a bit longer. The generic bulk is especially disappointing coming from Wain, who damn near reached the apex of absurd comedy in 2001’s “Wet Hot American Summer” and hasn’t come close since. The movie picks up with our protagonists, Danny (Paul Rudd) and Wheeler (Seann William Scott) – the sort of name you only see in movies – hawking their energy drink Minotaur to schoolkids. Soonafter, Danny is dumped by his girlfriend (Elizabeth Banks), the Minotaur mobile has desecrated a statue, and our pair is in jail. Said girlfriend, a lawyer, gets their sentence traded for a stint at Sturdy Wings, a big brother mentorship facility. Run by a cheerful ex-addict (Jane Lynch), Danny is assigned to cape-wearing Augie (Christopher Mintz-Plasse) and Wheeler to foul-mouthed Ronnie (Bobb’e J. Thompson). As expected, both pairs teach one another about life and enable each other to grow a bit. Basically, it’s a mid-80s family film, only with lots of dick jokes. In this ensemble, Rudd and Lynch are the real heroes of the movie, nearly compensating for everyone else and picking up their slack.

While I’d like to see Rudd show some diversity, like his roles in “Wet Hot” and “Forgetting Sarah Marshall,” he’s still hilarious playing the same character over and over again; his deliver is unmatched, turning run-of-the-mill bits of dialogue into wry one-liners. Lynch, on the other hand, has seemingly evolved into the preeminent character actress of her generation, taking her place as the woman to put in your movie to funny it up – the female Stephen Root, if you will. Scott was infinitely more interesting in against-type roles in “Southland Tales” and “The Promotion” than he is here playing Dane Cook/Stifler for the umpteenth time. As the intended scene-stealers, the kids grated on my nerves the more the movie went on. Little kids cursing up a storm consistently leaves audiences in hysterics (also see: old white women saying things like “for shizzle”), but Thompson is wildly annoying, shrill, one-note and false. As for McLovin, I’m one of the few who didn’t like him in “Superbad,” and I think it’s a disgrace for him to have a career beyond that one iconic role; be gone, Mintz-Plasse, please! Meanwhile, Banks gets about as much to do as she did in the “Spider-Man” films, sitting on the sidelines with nothing funny to do. The jokes tend to slide from one end of the spectrum to the other; high points include a brilliant running joke about KISS and anything involving Lynch (including a hilarious, incredibly stupid bit involving a hot dog), while the LAIR (live-action role playing) stuff starts funny and gets repetitive, and the streak of homophobia is even less funny in the wake of Prop 8. Clearly striving for the Apatow feel, “Role Models” might’ve been a solid, fun, R-rated comedy with sharper execution , but aside from the occasional presence of inspired absurd touches and good one-liners, a lot of this feels familiar and uninspired.

"Quantum of Solace"

2008-11-02T18:11:00.002-05:00

From its opening shots of 007 driving his Aston Martin while getting shot at with semi-automatic weapons and then getting rammed with a truck, Marc Forster’s “Quantum of Solace” makes no secret that it’s going to be a more adrenaline-fueled affair than the last outing, the much-beloved “Casino Royale.” As probably the most anticipated “big” film of the fall movie season, it’s a worthy (if not terribly memorable) follow-up that shouldnt really disappoint anyone. There’s something to be said for the fact that this is really the first continuing Bond movie, picking up immediately after “Casino” ends (the guy he shot at the end of that one is now in his trunk); in fact, the whole movie pretty much serves as an epilogue to that film, though only its beginning and closing 10-15 minutes are directly related. Daniel Craig reminds us again that he was the awesomely perfect choice for Bond, and the movie surrounding him is fun, fast, short, kind-of confusing (post-screening discussion revealed no one really followed the story) and never really gets stupid,though the explosion-filled climax straddles the line. For all its merits, “Casino” wasn’t really “fun” per se. It was a tad longish, with action sequences that seemed to be shoehorned in inorganically, while “Quantum” is practically kinetic. That was undeniably a better film, but this serves as a more successful “action movie;” There’s a lot of well-shot, brisk action and minimal pathos on display, for better or for worse.

What pushes the narrative forward this time around is Bond’s loss of love Vesper (Eva Green) in the last installment, and while he insists he’s not seeking revenge (of a villain, he scoffs “He’s not important, and neither was she”), he keeps frustrating M (Judi Dench) by killing people rather than bringing them in for questioning. After learning who was behind the circumstances that led to Vesper’s death, Bond sets his sights on Quantum, an elite organization so secret no branch of government even knew they existed. In a relevant bit of plotting, the evildoers’ schemes are dictated by the world’s running out of oil, and 007’s able to do much globe-trotting (with each location-establishing title card in a different stylistic font). Soon he meets up with with another chick who wants revenge (Olga Kurylenko), looks hot and gets minimal dialogue (and subversively, doesn’t sleep with Bond). If I seem a bit hazy on plot details, it’s because I am. While the convoluted nature isn’t the sort that frustrates or confuses you as you’re watching, it does result in you thinking things like “Wait, what was Bond’s mission in the movie?” or “Why did they go there?” on the way out of the theater. There’s noticeably less meditative stuff and emotional complexity this time out, but with Paul Haggis getting a screenplay credit again, maybe that’s a good thing (“I have no armor left! You’ve stripped it from me!”).

While the insane amount of action initially seems like a regression to the putrid, numbing Brosnan films, for the most part, the execution here’s pretty good. Another rooftop chase after “Casino” seems repetitive, and no less than three people throughout the movie are pulled out of trunks, but there’s at least a half-dozen extended memorable sequences that Forster actually pulls off really well (somewhat surprising, considering he’s never directed action before). The money shot of Bond falling through a skylight that’s been shown in all the trailers is thankfully, within the film’s first 15 minutes, and just as cool on a big screen. Just as impressive are a sequence where Bond jumps out of a plane without a parachute, and a score-less fight only punctuated by sound effects, where Bond brandishes knife and shoe, which recalls “Bourne” in a good way. But a set-piece during an avant-garde Opera, where the on-stage performance is cross-cut with information being exchanged between villains and, eventually, a shootout, is masterful and easily the film’s highlight.

It’s still startling what a fantastic 007 Craig is, and he’s about 75% of the reason this movie works. He’s always the coolest of customers, killing without emotion, or even facial expressions, but you can see sadness in those glassy blue eyes; this time around he’s a wounded animal, a killing machine with a broken heart. And yes, he doffs his shirt again in this installment. As M, Judi Dench is, as she’s always been in this role, one-note and delightful, commanding “Impress me” to Bond, and giving orders via phone while filling up her tub and applying face cream. As our chief villain, rogue environmentalist Dominic Greene (seriously, Haggis?), Mathieu Amalric bugs his eyes as wide as possible to compensate for the lack of a distinguishable villainous tic, but adds a seductive menace to his Omega role. Brandishing possibly the worst Bond movie title ever, “Quantum of Solace” keeps up the Bond tradition of hyper-stylized opening credits , and while I still am waffling on how I feel about “Another Way to Die,” Jack White and Alicia Keyes’ collaboration, I quite liked the sand-themed sequence, and Bond purists should enjoy a nostalgic closing note, and a midway nod to “Goldfinger.” After “Casino,” which many consider to be one of the best (if not the best) Bond films, “Quantum” may not reach the nearly-impossible expectations, but as long as you don’t expect that film’s equal, you’d be hard-pressed to not be entertained.

"Zack and Miri Make a Porno"

2008-11-02T18:09:00.001-05:00

An old-fashioned romantic comedy with a double-shot of raunch, “Zack and Miri Make a Porno” is not exactly a leap forward for writer-director Kevin Smith – I think we’ve seen the extent of his versatility – but it’s sweet, sincere, and frequently very, very funny. Skillfully employing raunchy exchanges that seem natural and not just out to shock, the flick focuses on friends/roommates Zack (Seth Rogen) and Miri (Elizabeth Banks) who, desperate to pay their rent, decide to try to make some easy cash by making an amateur porn movie to hopefully sell to those they graduated high school with (Zack’s rationale: “Everybody wants to see anybody fuck”). But as the days grow closer to the titular pair making the beast with two backs on camera, the more apparent it is they seem to have feelings towards each other that are more than friends. Smith may wade into pre-teen waters a bit too often here like usual, but the dude just knows how to write dialogue, and makes the mushiness at the center of all the debauchery feel earned; I just plain like the kind of movies he puts out there.

Every line in a back-and-forth between Zack and Justin Long as a gay porn star is a quotable killer (“What was the name of that film you were in again?” “You Better Shut Your Mouth or I’m Gonna Fuck It”), and for every scene that barely elicits a chuckle, there are two that will have you in fits . At first, I worried this was too much of an Apatow production to the point where it felt like Smith’s voice was lost (Gerry Bednob delivers a rant seemingly taken verbatim from one he delivered in “40-Year-Old Virgin”), but soon enough the Apatow cast members and adlibs merge nicely with Smith’s trademark dialogue and it seems very natural. I’m a little disappointed “Zack and Miri” has already bombed, since I was really hoping this would be the flick to make Banks a full-on star. Rogen and Craig Robinson (the doorman from “Knocked Up”) get the lion’s share of the laughs, but Banks is hardly the straight gal a la Katherine Heigl. Not only is she gorgeous and charming, she’s funny as shit and (as many of us knew from “Slither” and “Virgin”) she knows how to deliver a one-liner. Even if I don’t love shit jokes (the scat money shot we get didn’t gross me out, I just didn’t find it very funny), I think Smith has finally grown comfortable with his limitations, and so have I. His low-rent charm, natural, conversational filthy dialogue and group-of-friends cast assemblage paved the way for the Age of Apatow, and it hasn’t lost any of its appeal.

"Saw V"

2008-10-24T02:49:00.002-04:00

Well, it took me five movies, but I’m finally done with “Saw.” I still say, in the creativity-bereft horror genre, the oft-criticized “Saw” movies offer consistently complex scripts with fresh ideas and truly inspired plotting, but with “Saw V,” this franchise has officially been bled dry. Watching the film, I was reminded what a remarkably consistent series this is; they all feel like they have the exact same production values, same director, same tone, same structure, same token twist ending. After this fifth entry, people (like me) will likely be jumping ship because they’ve had their fill, not because of drastic shifts in direction. While I admire the filmmakers’ inventiveness in finding ways to continue the franchise (and complicating things, ad nauseum) without repeating the same formula, they’re just bending over backwards to keep this cash cow going, and it all seems pointless from the get-go. It’s not boring, your interest will be kept, but the movie jumps through so many narrative hoops just to exist, that it’s tough to care. Jigsaw, the series' chief antagonist, has been dead for two films now, and as a result, flashbacks and storytelling trickery are relied upon entirely to keep this charade going. Starting with the third act of “Saw IV,” the series has just become too convoluted for its own good, and has reached its saturation point for ridiculousness. Viewing all the films in sequence, one realizes that the whole "revealing flashback that changes the meaning of everything that's come before it" thing has practically become a recurring joke by this point, being used about a half dozen times in each chapter thus far (e.g.: we'll flash back to a scene from the second movie only to reveal that a newly introduced character was hiding behind a wall or something). Hell, this one spends half its running time – whaddya know, flashing back – just to explain backstory for the twist from the last movie. And plotting mechanics aside, there’s just no excuse for a character that, on more than one occasion, vacantly stares into space and speaks aloud expository dialogue when he’s standing in a room by himself (“[He] killed him. And made it look like a Jigsaw murder!”) Those who are still happily turning out for these movies will not be terribly disappointed or elated, but I suspect most viewers will have finally had enough.

"High School Musical 3: Senior Year"

2008-10-23T01:49:00.001-04:00

Clearly, the “High School Musical” series has been a phenomenon within its target demographic (i.e.: 6-12 year-old girls), and the latest entry, “High School Musical 3: Senior Year” (or as the kids are calling it, “HSM3”), knowingly caters to that audience. Whether you’ve been dreading it or eagerly awaiting it, prepare for a return to the Disney version of high school where the flamboyant, pink-pants-and-argyle-sweater-wearing choreographer is straight, and that muscley heartthrob sneaking through your daughter’s window is doing so to have a picnic with her. As the first in the series to obtain a theatrical release, the film mostly follows in the footsteps of the middle-of-the-road first two, and offers everything you’d expect in such a threequel. If you hate the first two, you’ll hate this, if you love them, you’ll love this. If you’re like me, and find them mildly entertaining and occasionally irritating, you’ll find this a slight improvement. Through it all, the cheese factor is cranked to ten, and though there hasn’t been some massive creative leap – things still feel fairly made-for-TV – it’s safe to say this is the best of the three. It’s also shot with a sense of competence and actual choreography, which is more than one could say for “Mamma Mia!” The jokes still aren’t funny, the songs are still mostly forgettable (though punctuated by some undeniably enjoyable ones), and Zac Efron still looks like he’s passing a kidney stone when trying to emote, but its good-natured exuberance and propulsive energy make it tough to not have just a little bit of fun (ironic or not).

"Synecdoche, New York"

2008-10-22T22:50:00.000-04:00

Charlie Kaufman’s directorial debut “Synecdoche, New York” is going to get understandably criticized by some as pretentious (e.g.: the title itself is a verbal pun, and never referenced in the film), unpleasant (be prepared for shots of feces and gum surgery) and arty for arty’s sake, but I don’t give a shit, I fucking loved every minute of it. This is Kaufman turned up to 11, the result of his ideas not having gone through the filter of someone else’s vision; in other words, it’s weird as shit. The film starts off in a somewhat recognizable, real world, and grows increasingly more surreal. Kaufman has gone on record saying he intentionally crafted “Synecdoche” to benefit from multiple viewings, and from a certain standpoint, it’s kind of frustrating that the film is intentionally impenetrable on a first watch. However, those who like to be challenged and can work with it on its own level will find it the sort of film you can discuss with friends for hours afterwards. While it could all just be watched and enjoyed as Kaufman zaniness, metaphor is everywhere you look here, and you’re constantly engaged in a very real way. The audience is made an active participant in the story/ideas being delivered, and is required to analyze and interpret just to keep up. That’s either going to frustrate the hell out of you, or warm the cockles of your giddy little film dork heart. Take a stab at which camp I fell into...

Where “Southland Tales’s” strangeness was like a fun, exciting puzzle with debatable substance, there’s a lot of weighty stuff to be said and read into here. It feels like a manifestation of every idea Kaufman ever had about art and death, and he wanted to include them all, just in case he never got to make a movie again; the strongest thematic undercurrent here is art’s inability to represent reality, but there’s a plethora of subtext to latch onto. Our Kaufman stand-in this time around is death-obsessed, hypochondriac Caden Cotard (a predictably fantastic Philip Seymour Hoffman), a theatre director who’s just won a “genius grant” for his production of “Death of a Salesman” starring actors exclusively in their twenties and thirties. After his wife (Catherine Keener) and daughter flee to Germany, Caden finds comfort in his leading lady (Michelle Williams) and decides to devote his $500,000 grant to renting a massive New York warehouse, and stage a play about “everything.” This basically boils down to a play about his life and everything around it, but since life keeps going and changing, as does the production. Stand-ins are hired to play the important people in his life, and eventually there are stand-ins for stand-ins, warehouses within warehouses, and the whole thing gets so meta you can hardly stand it. Besides Williams and Keener, the cast is adorned with stellar actresses (Hope Davis, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Emily Watson, Samantha Morton, Dianne Weist) in supporting roles, and every one is really something special here.

Term papers can and will be written about this movie; it’s thrillingly overstuffed with ideas, but against all odds, also an emotional juggernaut. We may not always be able to work out exactly how we’re supposed to take certain aspects of the film, but we go along for this journey with Caden (and Kaufman), and the destinations are often devastating. Though equipped with an undeniable cynical streak, everything is open to interpretation, and I was tremendously impacted by the film’s ending, even as I remain unsure whether it’s entirely grim or not. To wit: midway through the film, Caden has an emotional exchange with his grown-up daughter in a hospital room as he confesses to a homosexual affair he never actually had, as a real petal wilts off of the flower tattoo adorning his daughter’s arm. The scene had me choked up, but I couldn’t tell you exactly why, and that’s a reflection on the film as a whole. Even when you can’t quite grasp exactly what or why, the film remains entirely transfixing, fascinating and beautiful to behold.

"Changeling"

2008-10-22T22:46:00.001-04:00

Clint Eastwood has a tendency to evoke strong reactions from critics, and their reaction usually tells you more about the critic than it does about the film. His “Changeling” is neither the masterpiece his worshippers declared at Cannes, nor the piece of shit New York critics have denounced it as in their early reviews. Were his name not attached to it, I have a feeling the reactions would be a lot more tempered, and you might get a few more reviews praising it as the strong, compelling, 1920s-era drama/mystery it is. Early on in the proceedings (dubbed “A true story”), Christine Collins’s (Angelina Jolie) son goes missing, but is recovered by the corrupt LAPD a few months later. Unfortunately, the boy they recovered is clearly not her son. For one thing, he’s five inches shorter, and circumcised. The police repeatedly insist Christine is mistaken, and encourage her to take some time to come to her senses. When she continually refuses to accept Boy A as her son, the police do everything in their power to shut her up, including committing her to a psychopathic ward. Eastwood’s murky cinematography and minimalist score are his noticeable touches here, but he mostly avoids his two biggest pitfalls: latent sentimentality and bland stoicism.

From Christine’s imprisonment on, things get significantly more complicated, and the story jumps in two or three different directions, making us wonder how exactly what we’re being shown relates to our central storyline. I found the shifting of genres/story strands compelling and unpredictable rather than schizophrenic (as some have criticized); this is largely due to, in a refreshing twist, a trailer that’s less revealing than it seems (Christine’s imprisonment to the psychiatric ward occurs at the 40 minute mark of the 140-minute film). Jolie’s part is undeniably pure Oscar bait – her level of suffering is seemingly increased in each scene – but as limited as the character’s scope is, she plays it beautifully. Some will surely grow sick of her screaming or crying, but she made Christine feel real to me, and it’s the first time I’ve been genuinely impressed with Jolie in a movie. Where the film falters is in its use of the supporting cast (I would’ve liked to see more of John Malkovich and Amy Ryan), and in Jolie’s final line of dialogue, which rung tremendously false to me. This likely won’t register with audiences in the way that “Mystic River” and “Million Dollar Baby” did – those are unquestionably better films – but it’s thoroughly absorbing serious fare with moments of real emotional power.

"W."

2008-10-21T23:01:00.002-04:00

Oliver Stone’s “W.” has been on any filmic and/or politically savvy individual’s radar for just under a year now, and between early script reports, photos from the set and the movie’s marketing campaign, it was tough to know what to expect exactly. Regardless of the ultimate content, it is/was easily one of the year’s most controversial films, due to the subject matter, and especially considering Stone’s violently liberal bent and reputation for fudging with details. All those things considered, what’s most surprising about the finished product is how fair, even-handed and straightforward it is. It’s also endlessly compelling (if troublingly sloppy) from any standpoint, but will likely disappoint foaming-at-the-mouth liberals on the hunt for another hatchet job they can “boo” and feel superior during. The film does acknowledge the damage Bush has done and holds him accountable, but hypothesizes it all as a result of good intentions, blind selfishness, and a pathetic need for approval, not simply “evil.” The mockery of Bush is kept to a minimum (we do get to experience many a language-mangling sentence), and despite what the film’s marketing would have you believe, it is most definitely a drama (a docudrama more specifically).

However, this would all be merely an interesting experiment without the performances. Josh Brolin’s inhabitation of Bush – getting down the voice, mannerisms, tics and voice inflection – is impressive in its own right, but it’s a staggering performance for reasons beyond impersonation. It’s a tough character to play because there’s not much of a character there, but Brolin refuses to let W. be turned into a joke. From waging war to choking on a pretzel while watching football, he makes him into a sympathetic, human figure, just one whose daddy issues resulted in the fucking up of a country. Elizabeth Banks does fine as the Mrs., but sadly (and accurately), Laura eventually fades into the background and we don’t get to see much of her. James Cromwell is simultaneously authoritative and likeable as Poppy Bush, and Ellen Burstyn gives us a fiery, crotchety, mean Barbara Bush that, according to insiders, is much closer to reality than what we’ve seen in the public eye. Toby Jones and Scott Glenn as, respectively, Karl Rove and Donald Rumsfeld, are aces with their minimal material, while Richard Dreyfus is masterful as Cheney, rejecting caricature in favor of understated, articulate evil; his “war room” scene explaining his plans for global empire via Iraq is perhaps the most chilling sequence in a film this year. Jeffrey Wright looks and sounds nothing like Colin Powell, but gives a really moving portrayal of a man who fought the good fight, but inevitably caved and sold his soul. The one false note in the cast – and BOOOY is it a false note – is Thandie Newton’s garish, over-the-top, bad “SNL” impersonation of Condoleeza Rice. I kind of understand what she was doing, but I can’t believe nobody stopped her. With her face continually scrunched up, her head bobbing as she speaks, and her voice flatlining on the same shrill note, she’s a perpetual horror to watch.

While a part of me does want to see the manic “Strangelove”-esque farce the ads hinted at, I’m ultimately glad Stone avoided the easy, obvious mockery approach and chose to play things a bit closer to reality and humanization. However, what keeps the film at the level of “good, not great” is the messy, (presumably) rushed approach. Stone and screenwriter Stanley Weiser choose to focus on the 2002-2003 run-up to invading Iraq, punctuated by flashbacks to earlier in W.’s life and career(s) that made him the man he is. While it’s always interesting, the constant flashing back and forth keeps the film from establishing a coherent narrative, instead having the feel of “greatest hits,” so to speak. And if Stone wanted to use the approach of just picking the most interesting bits of this life/presidency, it’s curious (to say the least) that he chose to omit things like the 2000 election and, most glaringly, 9/11. Those looking for a enlightening historical account will not walk away satisfied, but as a character study and analysis, “W.” is fascinating.

"Sex Drive"

2008-10-15T23:24:00.000-04:00

New teen sex romps aren’t regularly churned out like they once were, and when they’re good, they’re lowbrow delights, so I say kudos whenever a new one heads our way, especially when one attempts an old-school sensibility and goes balls-out with its debauchery. However, while “Sex Drive” may earn its R-rating, it’s also dispiritingly dumb and flavorless, sharing with the pathetic “College” the attribute of trying desperately to appeal to an audience too young to see the movie. Based upon the premise that conventionally good-looking, toned (if quite Jewy) Ian, played by Josh Zuckerman, is unable to get laid and only can find a girl who’ll fuck him via the internet, the flick finds him stealing his brother’s (James Marsden) hot car and driving cross-country to aforementioned fuckhole with his fat Casanova buddy (Clark Duke) and girl-friend-who-obviously-likes-him-as-more-than-a-friend (Amanda Crew). Along the way, they have wacky adventures, natch. There’s nothing hilarious here, but the closest thing to funny is Seth Green in his 10 minutes as a sarcasm-prone, passive aggressive Amish gentleman. Duke’s character verges on annoying, but that’s due more to how he’s written – you can tell the actor has comedic skill (also shown in the web series “Clark & Michael”), and he’s likely be an asset in a funnier part/film. Marsden is similarly hampered by his gay-bashing character, whose sentiments/actions the movie doesn’t seem to look down upon. These are the sort of gay jokes that are placed most emphatically in the “homophobic” classification, and a late-in-the-game “twist” doesn’t serve to undo them, though that’s clearly the intent (see: “Chuck & Larry’s” having-its-mocking-fags-cake-and-eating-it-too). But surrounding the homophobia is a brand of comedy reliant on people getting hit in the balls, people getting hit in the face, characters being walked in on while masturbating, characters getting erections in unfortunate circumstances, and similarly familiar, low-brow stuff (I didn’t even mention the scat jokes). While it’s refreshing to see a non Apatow-related R-rated comedy, this lame crap serves as a reminder why his domination of the genre over the last few years has been so welcome.

"Happy-Go-Lucky"

2008-10-15T23:23:00.000-04:00

Look, I’m happy Mike Leigh’s “Happy-Go-Lucky,” and its star Sally Hawkins, have received near-universal acclaim, but those who praise them purely for their effervescent upbeat spirit are probably not the most perceptive tools in the shed. The storyless flick, starring Hawkins as Poppy, a delightful, annoying woman who looks at everything in life with endless positivity, is a film about happiness and the way one chooses to live their life, but also about hardship and the perils of one’s choices, and what sort of environments can breed those decisions. If one emerges from the theater thinking it a simple crowd pleaser or feel-good romp, it’s fair to say they’ve missed the point. Leigh’s different movies tend to have varying degrees of reaction from different folks, and his most recent film – and most likely object of comparison – was the spectacular, and radically different, “Vera Drake.” “Happy-Go-Lucky” is light-hearted and insightful where that film was devastating and insightful, but while the lessened gravitas isn’t problematic per se, it does lessen the level of emotional investment or thematic weight.

Still, while the movie might not be hugely powerful, it’s perpetually interesting and absorbing (a major accomplishment considering the minimal narrative momentum), and creates one of the most loveable and fascinating characters of the year. It also features spectacular performances from Hawkins and Eddie Marsan, as the miserabalist Alpha to her Omega, that keep you involved throughout. Some critics have criticized a rambling sequence where Poppy engages in a dialogue with an incoherent, mad homeless man as superfluous or overlong, but in my opinion, it’s the movie’s brightest spot. The scene renders it impossible for us to dismiss Poppy as merely bubble-headed or thoughtlessly cheerful – it forces us to understand that she’s made a conscious decision to be the way she is, and witness the depths to which she’s willing to go to try to make others feel less down or alienated. Like this scene, and the movie, Hawkins’ performance is easy to simplify if one isn’t paying attention, but is significantly more complex than it initially appears, and deserves serious Oscar consideration in this very crowded year.

"Quarantine"

2008-10-15T23:21:00.001-04:00

Mooching off the success of “Cloverfield,” this remake of the handheld-camera-perspective Spanish horror flick “[REC]” bucks the trend of Screen Gems generic horror by actually being pretty good, and offering some effective scares and some stylistic flair. The horrific shenanigans focus on a wet-behind-the-ears television news reporter (Jennifer Carpenter) who visits a local fire department for a standard “day in the life” feature story. After receiving an emergency call to a disruption by an old woman in an apartment building, she discovers that some residents are slowly coming down with some form of rabies and mauling one another. When she and the firefighters begin to figure out what’s happening, they discover the government has quarantined the building and locked everyone inside. Needless to stay, the bodies begin to pile up. On the demerits list, Carpenter (so good on “Dexter”) has some noticeably weak moments, and in the last third, the shaky camera and high-pitched shrieks devolve the proceedings into mild incoherence. But the jumpy moments usually work, and some night-vision scares late in the game (reminiscent of the superior “The Descent”) really deliver in terms of incrementally ratcheting up tension. It’s a rare horror movie that actually gives a shit and tries to satisfy the audience’s desires rather than just luring them in for generic/tired conventions. It’s not groundbreaking, but it’s a quite decent-to-solid entry that should play well with those who like this sort of thing. If only the final shot of the film wasn’t spoiled in every TV spot, trailer, and even the poster itself.

"Body of Lies"

2008-10-12T01:32:00.002-04:00

Shit blows up real good in Ridley Scott’s “Body of Lies,” a purported attempt to make a slick, big-budget entertainment about our country’s ongoing war on terror and the futility/effectiveness of it. Somewhat surprisingly, though, the movie doesn’t seem to have much to say other than the mild imposition of “war is no good for anyone,” and it’s not anywhere near entertaining or compelling enough to compensate for the lack of thematic heft. Inexplicably written by William Monahan (who won the Best Original Screenplay Oscar for “The Departed”), the rote thriller focuses on Roger Ferris (Leonardo DiCaprio), a CIA operative, as he globetrots throughout the Middle East, narrowly escapes explosions and gets shot at, all while getting orders barked to him via cell phone by his fat, Southern-accented boss (Russell Crowe). Oh yeah, and he, along with everyone he works with, is trying to locate and capture Al-Saleem (Alon Aboutboul), an Osama bin Laden stand-in. The plot is plenty complex, verging on convoluted, throughout, but the movie doesn’t seem to be as morally conflicted and substantive as it wants you to think it is. We just keep waiting for it to get to its point, but instead get an overbearing score and two or three explosions too many.

DiCaprio is reliably strong, despite the fact that he seems to still be stuck in “Departed” mode, and his facial hair looks noticeably awkward (it’s vaguely Brillo pad-ish). As for Crowe, I have no idea why he chose to be in this movie. His character’s connection to the film’s story is tenuous as best, he doesn’t have much to do, and for all the public attention paid to his 50-pound weight gain for the part, his character’s girth serves no purpose and contributes nothing. I’m half-convinced Crowe just got fat and said it was for the role. In terms of the performance, he’s trying ever so hard to be a scene-stealer, but I found his peering over his glasses and inconsistent accent increasingly grating. The best performance in the movie turns out to be Brit Mark Strong (also currently in “RocknRolla”) as Hani, head of the Jordanian secret police. In the realm of geopolitical romps, “The Kingdom” is certainly a more mainstream, entertaining film than this, but despite “Body’s” best efforts, it’s also a more thoughtful, ambiguous one. Down to the truly lame, trite final reel, this all plays like a dumber, lifeless version of “Syriana.” The movie’s not particularly boring, but it’s also never exciting or the least bit provocative. The last thing a film tackling our country’s complex relationship with the Middle East should be is “forgettable,” but “Body of Lies” never does anything to distinguish itself from a dozen other geopolitical thrillers.

"The Express"

2008-10-10T02:48:00.001-04:00

I don’t give a shit about sports, so when yet another sports movie comes our way embracing the same exact cliches with little or no differentiation (this time, there’s integration!), I tend not to flip my shit. I never really hate them, but I also don’t hesitate to flip the channel when I see that they’re on TV. However, "The Express," feels a lot more sincere, entertaining and well-packaged than most movies of its based-on-a-true-story ilk (much how I felt about "Flash of Genius"). Telling the story of Ernie Davis (a blandly solid Rob Brown), the *SPOILER AHEAD!* first black man to win the Heisman trophy *SPOILER OVER* Every redundant superlative you can think of (e.g.: inspiring, involving, emotional) applies to the end result here, but the cliches are strung along in a manner than never causes eyes to roll and makes for a surprisingly compelling two-hours-plus. Even the racial elements of the story – well-worn territory in this sort of thing – are dealt with in a fairly frank way that doesn’t feel overly familiar, and, if anything, are lent more of a resonance and emotional impact in an “Obama era.” The cinematography makes the film perpetually great to look at, and Dennis Quaid does especially fine work as the coach whose awkward growth into acceptance mirrors the country’s. The flick is no “Friday Night Lights;” it’s not subversive or genre-defining , but in the realm of conventional, check-off-each-expected-story-beat sports films, it’s one of the better ones I can recall in the last decade or so.

"City of Ember"

2008-10-10T02:45:00.001-04:00

The post-apocalyptic childrens film “City of Ember” is not quite as good as “Monster House,” but you can very much tell it’s made by the same guy. That guy (or rather, boy), Gil Kenan, has a knack for ensnaring young audiences without pandering or assuming things will be too scary or convoluted for them. He’s also adept at creating fascinating, visually impressive environments for his occasionally superfluous characters to play around in. In this, his second film, based on an apparently popular young adult novel, the world has been decimated hundreds of years ago, and all the survivors live in the subterranean city of Ember (think “12 Monkeys” meets “The Goonies”), ruled by despotic Mayor Cole (Bill Murray, who I wish showed more energy here). The two kids who drive our film’s story, and dare to defy the mayor and save their city, are played by Saoirse Ronan, making a post-“Atonement” cashgrab, and Harry Treadaway, the dreamiest 24-year-old-playing-a-12-year-old heartthrob you’ll see all year. For a movie targeting the young adult set, there’s an unusual level of intensity and complications on display – it just occurred to me I’m not able to recount a detailed plot synopsis – but it’s always a lot of fun, and a kick to look at (David Letterman recommends it as “beautiful and strange in a very pleasing way”). Due to being surprisingly undermarketed, it might not get discovered until DVD, but Kenan jampacks the movie with such creativity and energy (a seemingly built-for-a-log-floom-ride set-piece closes out the film with a bang and will have many kids cheering), I’ll be eagerly awaiting his next.

"Rachel Getting Married"

2008-10-06T23:54:00.002-04:00

A wedding is really, at heart, a perfect cinematic device. It’s the forced coming-together of family and friends, interacting and spending time with one another regardless of conflicts, proving either watchably combustible or blissfully integrated. Jonathan Demme’s return to his no-frills ‘80s filmmaking roots, “Rachel Getting Married,” may be the wedding film to top all wedding films, but not in terms of its size, scope or happenings contained therein, but rather its ability to capture compelling human authenticity, and never striking a false moment. Demme has described this as a “home movie,” and that’s how it feels, albeit a more intimate, revealing home movie than we’d ever actually see. Dramatic events don’t really unfold before us; we’re basically watching a family coming together for a wedding, and insights are for us to pick up on or notice.

Through it all, Demme employs no written score, allowing natural music – two members of our ensemble work in the music industry, and assorted wedding band members are rehearsing throughout the house – to set the scenes. It’s rare when a film’s intended naturalistic fimmaking techniques actually feel earned; the presence of a handheld camera can just as often feel distracting and intrusive. But here, every moment is infused with recognizable realism, that the handicam (wielded by Declan Quinn) and fly-on-the-wall approach feels organic, and necessary, to the proceedings. We don’t feel like an awkward eavesdropper to the events, but like an active, involved participant. It’s filmmaking that radiates spontanaeity (and I have no doubt much of the dialogue was actually improvised), but the character etchings and emotional tumult are too masterful to be mere happenstance.

However, all the naturalism in the world wouldn’t mean much if these weren’t characters we felt compelled to spend time with. While the whole ensemble does fine work, the four key components of this family – sisters Kym (Anne Hathaway) and Rachel (Rosemarie DeWitt), and their divorced father Paul (Bill Irwin) and mother Abby (Debra Winger) – are alternately sympathetic, frustrating, and above all, blisteringly real. There’s no one here that can be encapsulated in a one-line character description. Kym is the source of most unease at this particular wedding; she’s just gotten out of rehab to attend Rachel’s wedding at their father’s Connecticut house. Her love for her family is evident, but she’s also hindered by a mixture of self-loathing and self-obsession, feeling the need to steal the spotlight at every opportunity (she turns a wedding toast into a narcissistic, AA-style ramblethon, and demands Rachel replace her best friend and name her maid of honor), and unleashing cutting, unnerving remarks as if they were compliments.

She’s also responsible for a family tragedy hanging over the affair that no one wants to talk about, and that the rest of the family seems (slightly) more willing to forgive her for than she does (at an AA meeting, she candidly reveals, “Sometimes I don't want to believe in a God that would forgive me.”). Rachel just longs to relish the joys of her wedding to a man she loves, but gradually begins to accept, once Kym comes into the equation, the diminishing chances of that happening. She’s long been acquainted with Kym’s self-absorption, as well as dad’s coddling and favoring of the “troubled” child, and her receding into the background whenever Kym’s around. Both Paul and Abby have found new lovers since divorcing; for all of dad’s attempts at soothing unpleasant incidents and placating guests with food, he’s the most emotionally expressive, occasionally letting loose with tears and unrestrained jubilation. Abby, meanwhile, is ball of repressed feelings, barely ever being open with what’s boiling underneath and not seeming terribly comfortable with her position as the “distant” parent.

I’ve never been a particular detractor of Hathaway before, I just rarely find her very interesting. She’s capable and possesses some form of talent, I just generally find her boring more often than not. Her performance at Kym is stunning, not simply for showcasing aspects of her that we’ve never seen before, but for etching a full, rich, complicated character that never for a second feels like an awards-baiting gimmick. Every family has at least one Kym, and depending on your relationship with them, you may feel alternately like slapping her or hugging her. Hathaway doesn’t instruct us to like Kym (in fact, she’s an outright pain-in-the-ass), but she also portrays her torment with enough unflinching honesty that it’d be almost cruel to deny her a chance for some sort of redemption or peace of mind. Oscar talk has been abound for the actress for months now, and I think such reward would be much-deserved. However, Hathaway wouldn’t make near as much of an impression were DeWitt not matching her every step of the way. She’s asked to pull off the “good” sister who’s also the “lesser” sister, and in every interaction, you can see the lurking resentment that only rarely gets expressed. The two may not look a ton alike, but they really feel like sisters, and their scenes together ring the truest out of anything in the movie.

Theatre veteran Irwin is unquantifiably loveable as the warmest character in the film as the parent who want to soothe all problems and forget the past, but can’t avoid his place as family mediator. It’s an excellent performance full of pathos, but it’s his drop-dead hilarious reaction to good news late in the film that I can’t get out of my head. Winger, who’s been largely absent from movies for over a decade now (only popping up in bit parts in “Radio” and “Eulogy”), is barely in the movie, so it’s even more of an accomplishment that she makes the impression that she does. Her screentime registers maybe a handful of minutes, but in that time she participates in both the film’s most explosive and most touching moments, while letting her eyes and in-check emotions do most of the work. While Winger carries sentimental "loved-but-missed" nostalgia baggage with her, this is a fantastic performance on its own terms, creating a complete, complex character in an extremely brief amount of time.

I can’t quite decide if the title “Rachel Getting Married” is misleading (promising a more upbeat, simple film) or merely an ironic joke (Kym is perpetually trying to steal the spotlight and take the focus off the fact that Rachel is getting married), but I certainly like it better than the original, “Dancing with Shiva,” which doesn’t really nail it either. Going in, one should be prepared for what the movie is, not what advertising is selling (a friend described it as “an emotional action movie”); so while it may be relegated to the ‘Comedy’ category for awards like the Golden Globes, and not without its funny moments, this is in no way a comedy. The inevitable comparisons to “Margot at the Wedding” are understandable and justified (they share a plot framework and thematic points), but while I like that underrated film, “Rachel” is open and inviting where “Margot” thrived on discomfort and detachment.

This is rough stuff emotionally – every bitter argument, painful memory and hurtful line of dialogue rings unsettlingly true – but somehow, there’s an abject feeling of warmth to it all from minute one. Demme mixes the bitter with the sweet, refusing to designate “sad” and “happy” story beats, and as a result, the film’s power sneaks up on you, never giving us a single “aww” moment or emotional wallop. Those impermeable to understatement may shrug off “Rachel,” and I have no doubt highly pitched recommendations or rave reviews will inevitably lead to some “so what?” reactions, but others will be unquestionably drawn in by its unmatched generosity of spirit and unfiltered levels of heart, pain and emotional truth. We still have three months to go, and about a dozen potentially great movies heading our way, but at this premature juncture, “Rachel Getting Married” is my favorite movie of 2008.

"RocknRolla"

2008-10-06T23:36:00.002-04:00

Those who love Guy Ritchie’s “Snatch” and “Lock, Stock and 2 Smoking Barrels,” think he misfired with “Swept Away” and “Revolver,” and long for him to finally mature as a filmmaker will probably be about half-satisfied with his latest, “RocknRolla.” On the positive, it’s a return to form for Ritchie, and his most entertaining, compelling, convoluted film since “Snatch.” Not so universally pleasing, however, is that it emulates almost everything that worked, down to specific plot elements and character types, about “Lock, Stock” and “Snatch” (which some thought was already Ritchie repeating itself). That might be a roadblock in declaring it ‘original’ or ‘innovative,’ but when a movie is this rip-roaringly fun and filled with violence, plot turns, awesome rock songs and juicy characters, it’s tough to say that it’s not at least worth a watch.

The movie starts off with a handful of plot strands, keeps introducing characters, and then begins to spiral out of control – it’s only when you start to give up on following shit and just enjoy the ride that the movie, against all odds, ties things together and reveals there’s been a method to the madness all along. As per one of Ritchie’s proven specialties, there are fun characters abound, notably mob kingpin – a la Brick Top in “Snatch” – Lenny Cole (Tom Wilkinson) and likeable criminal protag – a la Turkish in “Snatch – One Two (Gerard Butler). However, the movie is all but stolen by Toby Kebbell as hard-living, presumed dead rocker Johnny Quid; while mildly reminiscent, in theory, of Brad Pitt’s Mickey in “Snatch,” Kebbell is the movie’s single greatest attribute, lending to the character elements of danger, wit and sympathy, often within the same scene. At the end of the day, I may not love the familiarity, but I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of Ritchie’s sense of style. While it may not make for the most diverse oeuvre, and it’s starting to appear that this kind of movie is all that Ritchie knows how to do properly, as long as the quality doesn’t wane or get repetitively aggrandizing or generic, I’m okay with that.

"RocknRolla" opens this Wednesday in NYC and LA, and nationwide Friday 10/31.

"Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist"

2008-10-04T02:08:00.000-04:00

Like a lot of people, I’m always a little unsettled and disheartened by projects like Peter Sollett’s “Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist,” where big studios and massive corporations attempt to co-opt young, hip, indie-scene subjects and not only put them center stage, but actually attempt to market the end result TO them. Here specifically, the big company is Sony, and the subject is East Village-frequenting hipster kids, bursting with ironic detachment and desperate to latch onto the next hip band so they can lay claim to liking them before anyone else. Against all odds, Sollett manages to impeccably nail this scene (if whitewashing it a tad), and the movie is almost interminably adorable and endearing. Despite the presence of Michael Cera and the same colored-pencil opening credit font, this is no “Juno” clone (for one, the dialogue isn’t oh-so-cleverly overwritten), but rather a sweet, simple, frequently very funny young romance taking place over the course of one night, a la “Before Sunrise.” When dumped by his girlfriend, wet-noodle Nick (Cera) – the lone straight guy in a queercore band, The Jerkoffs – joins his bandmates on a bar-hopping night in the Village, desperately attempting to locate their favorite underground band, Where’s Fluffy. Along the way, he meets Norah (Kat Dennings), the daughter of a uber-powerful mogul, who struggles to just be liked for who she is, and the two keep getting sidetracked (by exes, amongst other things), despite the obvious fact that they’re made for each other. From its laidback handling of homosexuality (Nick’s gaymates are neither screaming queens, nor reduced to wacky comic relief) and low-key acknowledgement of Norah’s Judaism, to a somewhat surprising level of insight into the hipster music scene and fairly realistic depictions of drunk-friend-babysitting, “Nick and Norah” refuses to fit into the neat, contrived box that some might be eager to put it in based on the marketing materials. Some reviews have complained that the film doesn’t have much in the way of dramatic momentum or conflict, and they’re right – there are no huge roadblocks or big dramatic moments – but the movie has an effervescent, laid-back likeability that just kept a smile on my face for its short, sweet duration.

"An American Carol"

2008-10-04T02:07:00.003-04:00

For those who haven’t heard, writer/director David Zucker brainstormed “An American Carol” as an antidote to Hollywood’s left-leaning fare, and giving Conservatives a satire to call their own. While the film is fascinating purely as a political-filmmaking artifact, at this point in early October, it may well be the worst film of 2008. Imagine, if you will, filmmaking and screenwriting on the slovenly level of “Disaster Movie” and “Meet the Spartans,” but injected with downright dangerous concepts and ideology. That’s right, people getting hit in the balls and smacked in the face, amid jokes about suicide bombers, slaves named “Barack” and yuk yuks about Hitler’s death camps and scenes taking place on the smoldering ruins of the World Trade Center. The plot involves a portly, unshaven, baseball-cap-clad Michigan-born documentary filmmaker Michael Malone (Kevin Farley), who is visited by the ghosts of General Patton (Kelsey Grammer), George Washington (Jon Voight) and the Angel of Death (country star Trace Atkins) to make him see the error of his ways, and show him that America is in fact great, and not a cause for evil in the world.

Look, obviously I’m not going to be naturally inclined to like a conservative satire, but I like to think I can appreciate funny of any political stripe. There are plenty of targets, angles and avenues on the left that are ripe for potentially vicious mockery, but Zucker chooses the most destructive, inbred, backwards thinking arguments that not only aren’t funny, but make it seem he’s not that well-versed in the subjects he’s attempting to skewer. For example, I can think of a half-dozen ways to attack Michael Moore, arguing that he disingenuously plays up his folksy persona, has more interest in himself than the little guys he purports to champion, and manipulates facts and subjects to suit his self-supporting needs. But no, in Zucker’s vision, he actually hates America, wants to abolish the 4th of July, and bashes the troops. Um, what? Is Zucker even familiar with Michael Moore, or is he just getting his information from the likes of Sean Hannity and Bill O’Reilly (who makes a flattering cameo as a restrained, non-rabid, sane – if slapping-prone – version of himself)? Zucker wedges in endless lines of dialogue about our treasured rights and amendments as Americans, yet repeatedly attacks Moore and liberals’ free speech as literally hating America.

We get the arguments (and really, who better to make them than the filmmaker behind “BASEketball” and “My Boss’s Daughter”) that war is almost always the answer, affirmative action is ridiculous, mere mention of Lincoln being gay is worthy of assassination, Ivy League schools will brainwash your kids into being liberal, criticizing America is the equivalent of hating America, the ACLU is a pansy organization that destroys the political process, and peace negotiations are the equivalent of appeasement. If you’re muttering “sing it, sister,” then have at it and enjoy. I may not agree with virtually anything in the conservative ideology, but I acknowledge that there’s a whole lot of incredibly smart (if devious) people making up the Republican party, and I refuse to believe that this movie is going to appeal to anyone but the lowest rungs of the uninformed elite. The modest audience members in my theater were clearly McCain voters (three elderly couples, two separate guys wearing three piece suits and an Indian gentleman wearing an oversize baseball cap with ‘these colors don’t run’ written on it – I shit you not), and I’m sure there’s a conservative base that’s eager to see their viewpoints represented on screen, but even this group seemed none too pleased. The level of discourse rarely rises above “Liberals hate America” and “Michael Moore is fat,” and if I were a conservative, I’d be embarrassed by this.

"Flash of Genius"

2008-10-04T02:06:00.000-04:00

“Flash of Genius” doesn’t do much to subvert its inspirational, based-on-a-true-story framework, or do anything terribly original or unexpected, but within that sub-genre, it does more to distinguish itself than most, and is consistently involving and restrained. Inspired by Dr. Robert Kearns’ creation of the intermittent windshield wiper, and his subsequent 15-year-long legal battle for Ford Motors after they steal his idea and refuse to acknowledge that it’s his, the story is interesting – if not remarkable – but avoids feeling bland or generic via the casting of the perpetually underrated Greg Kinnear in a rare leading role, and the film’s embracing of the bittersweet, as opposed to sentimental uplift. It’s predictable, sure (Hollywood doesn’t really bring true stories to the screen where David is crushed by Goliath), but we’re never fed what feel like unnecessary exaggerations or bigger-than-life emotional browbeating. Kearns is a terrific surrogate for an audience that currently understands the fight of the little guy against massive corporation, but he’s hardly a saintly everyman; there are numerous points where we question whether or not he’s making the right decision, and moment where Kearns seems on the verge of mental collapse, and the movie’s better for the complications. The A, then B, then C, familiar brand of storytelling doesn’t make it the most exciting or innovative movie out there, but it’s really more compelling than it has any right to be, and Kinnear’s performance makes it always worth watching, even for those not automatically in the tank for “true story” fare.

"Beverly Hills Chihuahua"

2008-10-02T23:33:00.002-04:00

Disappointingly, “Beverly Hills Chihuahua” isn’t the garish, mouth-agape-inducing disaster that its trailer seemed to promise, but rather a benign and (mostly) inoffensive Disney flick that never even approaches the realm of interesting, creative or entertaining. Contrary to the much-mocked yet morbidly transfixing trailer, the film isn’t about dancing, singing Mayan Chihuahuas frolicking in decrepit temples, but instead a dull, by-the-numbers story of pampered Chloe (voiced by Drew Barrymore), who experiences an abrupt culture shift when her master (Jamie Lee Curtis, sleepwalking with a smile through her three scenes) goes on vacation, and her incompetent caretaker (Piper Perabo) brings her to Mexico and loses her. Wackiness and many dogs with stereotypical Latin accents play into the proceedings heavily. There are some mild attempts to grapple with stereotypes in a kidflick manner, but portraying Mexico as a hotbed of criminal activity, featuring lines like "hold your tacos!," and one Mexican dog who is actually (no joke) a landscaper, can’t quite be seen as progressive. Speaking of which, for those who wonder how, aside from parental units, stereotypes get implanted in children’s heads, you need not look further than Michael Urie – also known as “the fag from ‘Ugly Betty’” – lending his voice to Sebastian, a flamboyantly gay dog who uses words like “faboo” (more than once!). But despite the presence of such problematic elements, let me re-iterate: this is a wildly mediocre, uninteresting movie. The lame-ass soundtrack even spells it out for you (e.g.: “Rich Girl,” “Low Rider,” “I’m Too Sexy,” “Hot Hot Hot,” “Hero,” “Whoomp! There It Is”). Don’t be fooled by that horrific/fascinating teaser trailer; “Beverly Hills Chihuahua” is just another in a long line of unmemorable, pandering, generic talking animal movies.

"Blindness"

2008-10-02T23:03:00.001-04:00

While it doesn’t approach the transcendent heights of his “The Constant Gardener” or “City of God,” Fernando Meirelles’ “Blindness” is, in many ways, just as challenging as those films and continues to support the idea that he is one of the foremost filmmakers in terms of presenting both thematically and visually powerful material. Based on Jose Saramago’s novel, the film’s an allegory for post-9/11 mania, concerning an epidemic of blindness in the not-too-distant future in an unnamed country. When those infected are quarantined, soon enough, a “Lord of the Flies” type situation erupts. For months, the film’s reputation has been unfairly tarnished by putrid word-of-mouth from the Cannes Film Festival (where a drastically different version was shown). This was likely the first time Miramax realized they didn’t have a crowd-pleaser on their hands, resulting in the film getting the shaft with a moderate-wide dump release tomorrow, despite needing careful nurturing. What I don’t quite get among the criticisms is the dismissal of the film as a “mess;” there’s a cogent – if chaotic – narrative on display by Meirelles here.

What would be more understandable is the undeniable fact that the film is frequently, wildly unpleasant, as we witness the circumstances and environment within the containment center as its inhabitants begin to get raped, murdered, wallowing in their own filth and making horrific, unimaginable choices. I’ll admit the proceedings are difficult to watch at points – I predict scores of walkouts – but it’s all grounded by Julianne Moore, delivering her second great performance this year, as the one woman with sight amidst the madness, and experiences an unasked-for and almost unconscious metamorphosis into an altruistic universal caretaker. Besides staying remarkably faithful to Saramago’s novel, Meirelles collaborates with cinematographer César Charlone to put his oft-complimented visual style is put to effective use. I was transfixed from its opening close-ups of green and red signals on a traffic light, and was fascinated with the whole film’s faded, oversaturated white/light blue tint, and the frequent shots to an all-white screen (the POV of the infected) are increasingly effective. Where one could argue Spike Lee’s “Miracle at St. Anna” is a daring, interesting failure, I think the similarly ambitious “Blindness” succeeds tremendously, but its success is as a movie a whole lot of people will certainly not want to watch. If you can endure it, it’s ultimately a haunting, sophisticated apocalypse movie for those with high minds and strong stomachs.

"Religulous"

2008-09-30T20:05:00.003-04:00

When exchanging ideas with his subjects in his often brilliant, religion-bashing documentary “Religulous,” Bill Maher may be one-sided and close-minded, but he’s hardly unfair. I’ve always looked at Maher as one of the few figures publicly expressing viewpoints about religion akin to my own, but found there to often be a vaguely off-putting sense of mockery and disdain that imbues his opinions, so while I agree with what he’s saying, I don’t always love the delivery system. Religion is essentially destructive and inherently ridiculous, but painting everyone in the religious spectrum with one broad stroke doesn’t do either side any good. However, here, while unwavering in his depiction of religion as batshit insane and problematic, he approaches his subjects on their home turf (be it a truck stop church, the Holy Land Experience theme park in Orlando, or in front of the Vatican), engages them in conversation, and lets them answer his questions and explain their opinions. Sure, often he just gets bullshit responses like “'What if you die and find out you're wrong?,” and his subjects frequently can’t or won’t answer a simple question, but it’s hard to quibble with the methods, and one can’t say he has them at an unfair advantage.

Maher and director Larry Charles use the editing process to get the last laugh (breaking up the interviews with goofy stock footage, Bible cartoons and pop songs), which perhaps was unnecessary – the footage speaks for itself – but in its defense, they tend to just underline the filmmakers’ viewpoints, not diminish or alter their subjects’ responses. The underlying question the film seems to be asking is “Why is believing things without evidence good?” (i.e.: why is ‘faith’ a virtue?) and goes on to conclude, over and over again, that it isn’t. Thankfully, due to Maher and Charles’ bountiful wit, this isn’t a stark polemic, but a supremely entertaining doc that could just as easily function as a very funny comedy, regardless of your religious viewpoint (or lack thereof). What’s most interesting here is that, while it’s obvious Maher is sincere and passionate about this subject, he chiefly goes after the core tenets of the belief systems, not really the evil/violent/destructive things that come out of them (Islam bears the brunt of this criticism). As the title indicates, the film focuses more on the ridiculousness of the beliefs; for instance, child abuse by priests scarcely earns a mention. Where things do get serious, however, is in the final moments of the film where Maher lays the thesis statement behind the film bare, and delves into where society is likely headed if the religion “problem” isn’t corrected. It’s a ballsy, disturbing and debate-inspiring way to close out the proceedings, and I, for one, look forward to the conversations in theater lobbies.

"Choke"

2008-09-29T17:45:00.001-04:00

When reading Chuck Pahlaniuk’s funny, insightful and eager-to-shock novel “Choke,” with its nonchalant grotesquerie and sexually explicit psychology, I never imagined the film adapation of it could be described as “warm,” “touching” and “accessible” without totally betraying the spirit and instincts of the book. But here we are, and somewhat inexplicably, writer/director Clark Gregg has stayed remarkably true to the book (only switching around some scenes, and removing minor details, such as one character’s supposed time travel), while delivering it all with a carefully light touch that makes the end product almost approach the realm of “mainstream. “ Where Pahlaniuk’s “Fight Club” may have been overloaded with plot, “Choke” is basically a character study and a stream-of-consciousness recounting of a period in said characters’s life; the character is Victor Mancini (Sam Rockwell), a Colonial “historical interpreter” struggling with – or rather, embracing – sex addiction, while regularly pretending to choke in restaurants to earn sympathy and money to fund his dementia-riddled mother’s (Anjelica Houston) hospital bills. A Fincher-esque visual style may have made things a bit more interesting (Gregg employs but a single visual trick: projecting the images Victor pictures to keep from “triggering” on a girl’s back mid-fuck), but like Kevin Smith and Judd Apatow, Gregg’s deft handling of material and impressive sense of comedic pacing/timing almost entirely makes up for it (you’ll find no awkward jokes falling flat or silent sitcom “laugh” beats here). Like the book, the film takes an amusingly skewed view at sex, love, and oedipal pop-psychology, and refreshingly avoids the convention that a mother-son reconcialiation or heart-to-heart is the proper resolution for the characters. But while such complexities work, “Choke” is above all worth watching because it’s just a very entertaining flick that also functions as a much-deserved showcase for Rockwell.

"Miracle at St. Anna"

2008-09-26T18:19:00.001-04:00

Even the most passionate defenders of Spike Lee's "Miracle at St. Anna" would have to admit that, for good or for ill, the movie's a bit of a mess. Your reaction will likely depend not on if you find it to be flawed or not, but on whether the flaws are enough to sink the movie for you. Lee's tale of the 92nd infantry division (the "buffalo soldiers" unit) in World War II wants to do so much, and be so many things, it'll likely cause a fair share of audience members to throw their hands in the air and give up on it midway through -- even I was ready to do so early on due to one main character's incessant mugging. More than just having multiple story strands woven together, it seems there's at least four different movies here struggling to occupy the same space; we get a 1983-set mystery framework (where, incidentally, everyone talks like they're a 1940s gumshoe), a bonding between an adorable Italian tyke and his black soldier protector, a bit of inter-culture romance, a battle-ridden straightforward war film, and a bit of magical realism thrown in. It entirely makes sense to me why many critics are so down on the film, as it not only doesn't adhere to genre conventions, it often seems to be fighting itself for what it should be, and numerous moments either don't work, leave you scratching your head or rolling your eyes.

But while it may be a mess, it's the sort of bold, really interesting mess you have to admire on some level. In shooting for the moon, Lee has made miscalculations, yes, but oddly, the disparate parts don't result in incoherence, but in a strange, all-over-the-place end result that mostly worked for me. The film is too long (sans credits, it runs exactly 2 hours and 30 minutes), but despite numerous extraneous, talky sequences, I never found myself getting antsy, and while the sentiments may be overblown here or there (the closing moments, in particular, are a bridge too far), I was, by and large, affected by it, and always interested in whatever turn the story/tone/characters took. To quote Michael Sragow's Baltimore Sun review, "[Lee] may be addicted to broad flourishes, but he has the big emotions to back them up." A more disciplined filmmaker would've made this a more cogent, and probably outright better, film, but it wouldn't be nearly as filled with passion or as overflowing with ideas. Whatever your thoughts on Lee's self-promoting attacks on Clint Eastwood, he's made a movie that's more compelling than either of Eastwood's WWII films.

"Nights in Rodanthe"

2008-09-26T18:17:00.003-04:00

Despite occasional evidence to the contrary, I'm a cynic at heart, and not particularly susceptible to shameless "chick flicks" or unabashed tear-jerkers. I don't know if I would like Nicholas Sparks' novels, but I'd imagine not. I thought the film version of "The Notebook" was elevated by a top-tier cast and weepiness that worked, but I've not seen "Message in a Bottle" or "A Walk to Remember," nor do I long to. And on paper, I know "Nights in Rodanthe" is treacly, manipulative crap. My understanding of all four films makes it seem Sparks has a reliable, manipulative framework and just punches in different characters' names for the same effect. The reliably formula screenplay for the "Nights in Rodanthe," on its own, would be unremarkable and borderline-annoying. But thanks to the performances of Diane Lane, Richard Gere, the chemistry between the two, and perhaps most of all, the understated direction of theatre vet George C. Wolf, we buy it. No matter how irritated you may be with that trailer and that increasingly annoying song in it, for what it is, the movie works. Wolfe, Lane and Gere take inherently maudlin and pandering material, and ground it, largely avoiding garish sentimentality and somehow making it feel true.

Believe me, this isn't a movie I'm proud to admit I'm liking. About halfway through, I heard a voice in my head saying "No, no, you can't like this. no one will ever trust your opinion again. First, 'Lakeview Terrace,' then 'Igor,' then 'The Duchess,' now this?" Hate to admit it, but yeah. It's a tasteful, classy, weepy girls-night-out movie that your mother will love, and if you approach on its own terms, will exceed your meager expectations. There's a certain kind of audience member that can't, and won't, fall for this stuff no matter how well (or poorly) executed it is, and I can respect that. These kind of movies aren't for everyone. But watching "Nights in Rodanthe," I could recognize that in pantheon of lady-baiting romance novel tearjerkers, this is one of the good ones.

"Eagle Eye"

2008-09-25T02:18:00.002-04:00

Before it gets irredeemably stupid in its final 15 minutes, starts abandoning logic and instead focuses on blowing shit up real good, "Eagle Eye" is a truly fun, far-fetched, slick bit of popcorn paranoia entertainment. I don't want to say much about the plot, since I don't want to spoil things, but it all centers around Jerry Shaw (a scruffy-for-the-better Shia LaBeouf) and Rachel (Michelle Monaghan), two strangers brought together by a phone call. Jerry's just buried his twin brother that morning, when he receives a call from a monotonously-voiced woman telling him to leave his apartment immediately, and that the F.B.I. will be there in 30 seconds. Rachel has just put her wee son on a train to Washington D.C., when the same woman gives her a call telling her unless she follows orders, her son will be killed. The two are eventually brought together, and sent on a wild (and quite loud) goose chase, following instructions at all costs, all while they're chased by two counter-terrorism agents (Billy Bob Thornton in "Armageddon" mode, and a useless Rosario Dawson), who can't figure out why Jerry and Rachel are doing what they're doing. The credits don't reveal who plays the voice on the other end of Shia and Michelle's phones, but it sounded a hell of a lot like Julianne Moore to me. I'm sure we'll find out in the days ahead, but my money's on Moore.

I was entertained all the way through "Eagle Eye," but the less mysterious/ambiguous the shenanigans' orchestrator(s) became, the more I began to slump in my seat and my eyes began to roll. It's not a sudden shift though; When the film's twist is revealed a bit more than halfway through, it all starts to feel a bit ludicrous and silly, but the movie maintains its credibility by the skin of its teeth. However, the final reel is almost a complete wash, as the movie finally embraces its' dumbest, least interesting impulses, mostly abandoning its prescient, relevant themes in favor of full-on Michael Bay territory. I entered the theater with minimal knowledge about the plot -- I only knew what the trailer told me -- and I think that's for the better. Much of the film's fun and suspense is predicated on unanswered questions and who/what is causing all this. And don't get me wrong, when "Eagle Eye's" cooking, it is a lot of fun. Though one early car smash-up action scene is virtually incoherent, for the most part, dumbed-down "Transformers"-esque antics are avoided, and the heavy-verging-on-convoluted plot mechanics are what keep us involved. Thankfully, the movie moves along at such a breakneck pace, that it's only on the ride home that you realize there's about a dozen things that happened that didn't make a lick of sense.

"The Duchess"

2008-09-25T02:17:00.000-04:00

It seems I've always had an aversion to historical dramas filled with frilly dresses and powdered wigs. That distaste, paired with the fact that Keira Knightley has the tendency to bore me to tears, I was not especially looking forward to "The Duchess," a historical drama featuring Keira Knightley in lots of frilly dresses and powdered wigs. In fact, back in December or so, you may recall me declaring it my least anticipated movie of 2008. Well, holy shit, I liked it. I won't speak of the production values -- cinematography, costumes, score, etc -- because they're great, but so what? They're always great in every one of these sort of movies, and it's never enough to engage me. What's worth mentioning about "The Duchess" is that it's actually entertaining. While maybe some won't love the consistent semi-soap opera chain of dramatic events that propel the film, but hey, I'm not above admitting that a constant stream of *gasp* things actually happening is what it takes to get me invested in a movie like this. Knightley, as Georgina Spencer, the Duchess of Devonshire, is about as stiff as usual, but with this material and time period, it actually seems appropriate, so it didn't bother me much. British-hunk-of-the-month Dominic Cooper smolders and raises his voice a lot as Georgina's lover, the 1700s' answer to Barack Obama ("Change is upon us!"), while Ralph Fiennes, as her cold, philandering husband, the Duke, comes off the best out of anyone, managing to make the familiar character archetype the most engaging figure in the film. I can't guarantee that anyone who hates big-dresses-and-wig movies will dig the proceedings here, but you don't get much more loathe to this genre than I, and I sat alert, entertained and involved for 105 minutes.

"Appaloosa"

2008-09-25T02:13:00.000-04:00

In my last semester at school, I was lucky enough to take a course on Western films, and the experience, if anything gave me a real idea of what those films entailed, rather than just the scattershot elements people of a younger generation associate with them (shootouts, horses, reluctant hero, bad men). So while it may not be fast-paced enough for those trained on films of today, Ed Harris's "Appaloosa" is a solid modern western that truly earns the "old-fashioned" designation likely to be mentioned in every reaction to it. Things are kept simple and laid-back, with Harris and Viggo Mortensen playing two gunmen with a penchant for protecting towns in need of help, Jeremy Irons as the villain doing the hasslin', and the execrable Miss Zellweger as the lady caught in the middle of it all. Harris and Irons are just fine, but Mortensen -- as usual -- outshines everyone even with minimal dialogue, and even Zellweger avoids crippling the movie whenever she's on screen, so I guess that's something. Strong, straightforward recent westerns "Open Range" and the "3:10 to Yuma" remake had old-fashioned elements to them, but "Yuma" especially was paced like an action film that just happened to be set in the old West. Here, Harris acknowledges the pacing and parameters of the old-time westerns, giving just as much screentime to the Zellweger shenanigans and focusing more on the relationship between Mortensen and Harris than the very (effectively) brief shootouts. The lack of complexity or perpetual thrills probably won't earn "Appaloosa" any diehard fans -- it's the type of film that earns more nods of approval than impassioned cheers -- but it's a simple, satisfying yarn with characters I wouldn't mind revisiting in another film.

"Lakeview Terrace"

2008-09-24T03:48:00.003-04:00

Well, slap me sideways, I had no expectation for this movie to be good. The trailer made it look laughably stupid, simplistic and familiar, and most critics out there seemed to think that was an accurate representation of the film. But whaddya know, I full-on liked this movie. Interracial married couple Patrick Wilson and Kerry Washington are in the midst of moving into their dream home in the epitome of upper-middle class suburbia when we begin, but it doesn't take long for problems to materialize in the form of Abel (Samuel L. Jackson). Abel, like many, doesn't consider himself a racist, but something about the couple next door just rubs him the wrong way. When the couple doesn't adhere to his stringent ideas of how they should behaving and complying with his requests, things begin to escalate, and no one ends up particularly happy.

For director Neil Labute, this is seemingly a job for hire, even by his own admission, but I was taken aback by how much in line it feels with his other works -- there are deeply unsettling themes about race here, and while Abel may evolve to be the "villian" of the piece, Jackson never allows him to be demonized. Many reviews have talked about the third act, saying that it shifts a tense drama into brainless thriller territory, but I disagree with the brainless part. I think the proceedings naturally evolve to that place, and trailer be damned, there are no spots where I thought the movie descended into 'ridiculous' territory. This is by no means a great movie, it's merely a good one, but I'd argue there are much more substantive and subtle things said about race and racism in this than in all of "Crash." Where that film's central theme was "Everyone's a Little Bit Racist," things are a bit more complex here; "Lakeview' delves into the factors that may plant those seeds, rational or not, and how seemingly positive statements or actions can be inverse results of reactionary racism, and does it all without delivering a "message" or speechifying.

"My Best Friend's Girl"

2008-09-24T03:48:00.001-04:00

Dane Cook is a douchebag. I'm convinced. I've never found his stand-up funny, but clearly millions do, so my lack of amusement doesn't really amount to much in the long and short of things. But throughout his stand-up, he radiates arrogance, and proud display of his douchebaggery, all snide looks and fratboy superiority. In movie after movie (save "Mr. Brooks"), he's consistently played this exact same "proud asshole" persona , and done it with disturbingly convincing bravado. However, by no means let me allow you to think that it's simply Cook's loathsome presence that brings down an otherwise decent flick. No, sir, this is a bad, bad movie, and almost entirely devoid of laughs. There are about three chuckle-worthy moments, credited to Alec Baldwin (as Cook's fuck-hound father) and one wedding-set moment near the end. The rest is filled with tired sexual gags and sitcom jokes with the words 'fuck,' 'cunt' and 'cock' inserted willy-nilly; there are boatloads of gay jokes took, but I'll let it slide since this is only the third most homophobic comedy I happened to screen this past week, so it pales in comparison. Cook has made worse movies than this before -- "Good Luck Chuck" is hard to top -- and the movie's just crappy, not unwatchable, but it's tough to figure out who thought a romantic comedy populated by people you want to stab (Cook's co-stars Kate Hudson and Jason Biggs have never been more off-putting) would be appealing to watch.

"Igor"

2008-09-24T03:46:00.002-04:00

No doubt conceived as an unauthorized brainchild of "Shrek" and the works of Tim Burton, the good-natured if dark-spirited "Igor" occasionally comes off as a bit too A.D.D. for it's own good, but on top of having so many more creative ideas than most of what passes for kiddie animation flick s these days, there are so many funny bits and one-liners that it frequently verges on hilarious. Taking place in the eternally-rainy city of Malaria (a la Halloweentown), where every mad scientist has their own hunchbacked, slurring assistant -- or "Igor" -- we focus on one particular Igor, voiced by John Cusack, who gets to live out his own mad scientist fantasies after his master (John Cleese) gets accidentally decimated. The stellar voice cast is actually, for a change, put to good use. Eddie Izzard has his moments as the evil Dr. Schadenfreude, and Jennifer Coolidge is hilarious, re-creating her jarring deaf-esque "Mighty Wind" voice as a shape-shifting villainess, but the film is handily stolen by Steve Buscemi as a suicidal bunny rabbit cursed with eternal life. Some may complain about the "ugliness" of the animation, but I liked its sharp-edged, rough look, making every character look like some sort of misfit, as if by design. It's tough to know what the intended young-kid demo will make of all this, beyond being entertained by the loud sounds and color scheme, but parents dragged along should find themselves more entertained than expected. Some leaden jokes fall flat, but the film has such a demented sense of humor (a quick bit about blind orphans had me in stiches) and the jokes keep flying fast enough that I was smiling most of the way.

"Ghost Town"

2008-09-18T00:28:00.000-04:00

For a film that's incredibly by-the-numbers on the page, "Ghost Town" is a surprisingly endearing comedy from writer-director David Koepp (who cut his teeth playing this material straight in stuff like "Stir of Echoes"). It's most notable for being the first film featuring "The Office"/"Extras" creator/star Ricky Gervais in a leading role, and while it offers a somewhat neutered version of the brilliant comic, he's by no means been scrubbed into a polished, likeable romantic lead. He has just as much of a self-involved edge and biting wit as we're used to, just shoehorned into a high-concept fantasy / romantic comedy framework. And against all odds, it works. Gervais is actually quite good as misanthropic dentist Bertram Pincus, who begins seeing ghosts after dying for a few minutes while receiving a colonoscopy. He already hates being forced to interact with the living, so being encountered by the dead is doubly irritating. When faced with the ghost of Frank (Greg Kinnear), who wants him to stop his ex's (Tea Leoni) forthcoming marriage, Bertram reluctantly obliges, but finds himself falling for her and slowly becoming mildly less unpleasant. Die-hard Gervais fans like myself will have to wait for "The Other Side of the Truth" for full-on Ricky, but there's still a lot to laugh at here, and it's a delightful way to introduce him to those who've no idea who he is (i.e. most of America). There's a ton of witty one-liners here -- most courtesy of Gervais and Kristen Wiig -- and even when things get conventional, there's an underlying sweetness to the whole thing, and I think it's the sort of movie people (if they go see it) will be charmed by. Also, Leoni completely eradicates any bad memories of her "Spanglish" shrew with an incredibly likeable, radiant performance here.

Tyler Perry's "The Family That Preys"

2008-09-17T23:53:00.000-04:00

Dare I say Tyler Perry has made his first full-on "good" movie? I've seen every one of Perry's efforts, and while they range from execrable ("Diary of a Mad Black Woman") to enjoyable-if-amateurish bits of audience-participation fare ("Why Did I Get Married"), the experience with a crowd is usually fun. With this latest effort, he employs the same crowd-pleasing, rabble-rousing, melodramatic dialogue (if cutting back on it), but does so in service of a generally more dramatic story than he's grown accustomed to. As a result, we get emotional moments that vaguely resemble pathos -- not just shoehorned-in crying beats -- and a genuinely engaging intertwining story of two families (one black, one white) featuring members both despotic and sympathetic. Now, this could largely be due to the fact that he's cast really fine actors delivering honest, affecting performances; Alfre Woodard, Robin Givens, and most of all, a stir-fried Kathy Bates deliver very strong work here, perhaps investing us a mite more than we might be otherwise. Though it's troubling that Perry still can't resist feeding the audience one trademark moment of embracing-your-worst-impulses (a man beating his cheating wife is played as an applause moment), it's almost balanced out by the fact that he avoids depicting a single white character as inherently evil or racist, a problem that's plagued him before. While his Madea movies may be the ones his crowds go the most hog-wild for, "The Family That Preys" offers further proof that when Perry abandons his live-action cartoon characters, he's actually capable of delivering entertaining, well-done melodrama.

"The Women"

2008-09-17T23:43:00.000-04:00

Diane English's 2008 "The Women" is supposedly a remake of George Cukor's 1939 "The Women," but aside from the same basic plot framework, the two barely share any similar characteristics. While the original film was a fairly vicious indictment of the most merciless of the fairer sex, filled with razor sharp dialogue and wicked performances to be relished, the remake has been made in an age when women can only be center stage when they're being "celebrated" so needless to say, it plays like a kinda dull variation on *shocker* "Sex and the City." The movie's by no means awful, like the reviews have indicated (One of the worst movies you've ever seen, Richard Schickel? Come on, take your anti-hyperbole pills), but it's hard to ignore that it's just not very interesting to watch, and offers nothing resembling satiric edge or bite. Of our five titular women (including antagonist Eva Mendes), Annette Bening's the one who delivers the best performance, and Jada Pinkett Smith's the one we wish we had more of (I can count the number of scenes she appears in on one hand). Debra Messing is basically playing Kristen Davis's shrill and perky Charlotte archetype, and as such, I wanted to punch her. While I comment the filmmakers for sticking to their "no men, not even in the background" gimmick, it all registers as an uncomfortable mix of mopey and girl-powery, hardly what made the original film legendary.

"Righteous Kill"

2008-09-12T05:15:00.000-04:00

Jon Avnet's follow-up to the abysmal "88 Minutes," the DeNiro/Pacino pairing "Righteous Kill," is a perfectly serviceable midrange thriller. The problem is, even though individually the two actors have been shit for about a decade (if not longer), when the two icons get together, it creates an inexplicable-yet-undeniable level of expectation, and "serviceable" isn't nearly enough to satisfy those who might be attracted to the theater; they want "good." Performance-wise, the two actors don't appear as sleepwalk-y as they have been, but they're not exactly stellar either. But despite their rare semi-alert performances, and no matter how it does at the box office, the film itself won't be doing either actor's reputation any favors. What it shows, ultimately, is their lack of integrity. Both DeNiro and Pacino have said they were waiting for the right project to reunite, but there's no way they thought this thing was anything special; it's clearly just another paycheck for them.

Avnet's hackneyed direction certainly doesn't help, but the screenplay's no great shakes. The dialogue throughout is noticeable clunky (each Pacino-spewed pun is more cringe-worthy than the last), and the plot twists are so predictable that you're sure there will be more coming, but alas... not so much. Still, the movie is nowhere near an arduous sit. In fact, if it was something you stumbled upon at 3 a.m. on TNT, it might register as a somewhat pleasant surprise. Individually, both lead actors have made scores of thrillers worse than this ("15 Minutes," "The Fan," "88 Minutes," "The Recruit," just to name a few), so I don't think the movie quite deserves the across-the-board pans it's been getting. But, at the end of the day, the lone scene the two acting legends share in "Heat" is infinitely more compelling than the whole of "Righteous Kill," which registers as little more than a guilty pleasure.

"Burn After Reading"

2008-09-10T15:07:00.002-04:00

It's not that I'm a Coen Brothers apologist. I don't grade their stuff on a curve, or try to put a positive spin on aspects of their films I may perceive as flaws, I just genuinely can't help digging everything they do. It''s not due to blind idolatry -- I'll be willing to admit they've made a sub-par movie when it happens -- but to sincere reveling in the bones they throw our way every year or two. Even the biggest fans of the Coens seem to think they made a misstep or two, either with "The Ladykillers," "Intolerable Cruelty," "The Man Who Wasn't There" or "The Hudsucker Proxy." Not me. I think even their worst movie (unquestionably, "The Ladykillers") is great, with only two or three minor qualms from me. I give this extended buildup just to make clear that, when it comes to "Burn After Reading," the odds were stacked going in, and I might not be your man to give an adequately critical, even-keel assessment.

That said, I fucking loved every minute of it. The chief criticism of "Burn After Reading" -- and it will be criticized, every Coen comedy seems to divide critics -- will be that it's "insubstantial," but that's largely the point. The big joke of the film is that no one quite knows what's going on, and nothing amounts to anything; hell, the title itself is an acknowledgement that this is all a disposable romp to forget as soon as you've seen it -- except it isn't. For all its silly coincidences, bouts of confusion, and a twisting set of narratives that seems to knowingly implode, there's something about the film that sticks to your ribs. We're not meant to take any of it seriously, and it's one of the Coens' more blatant examples of laughing at the characters as opposed to with them, but it's all so funny, ridiculous, impeccably crafted and based in real, relevant themes, you can't help getting caught up in it all. It can (and probably should) all be read as a parable of the incompetency of our times, and the increasingly clueless-yet-massively-destructive nature of our goverment, but it could just as easily be enjoyed as a vicious, enjoyable lark.

Even though they're just pawns in the Coens' dark, nasty chess game, the all-star cast here makes you believe in their respective characters as real, three-dimensional people, even though no attempt is given to make them three-dimensional. It's an ensemble through and through, with no real lead. Tilda Swinton -- basically reprising her role from "The Chronicles of Narnia" -- doesn't have quite as much to do as everyone else, but she lends her character a perfect iciness that pays off in one of the funniest jokes of the movie (which, like much of the payoffs, is carefully built up and alluded to very slyly throughout). Frances McDormand's plastic-surgery-obsessed Linda Litzke is somehow somewhat sympathetic, even though she's also arguably the most destructive presence in the film; she's the antithesis of Marge Gunderson, and a rare broad comedic turn for McDormand. John Malkovich's wildly unpleasant Osborne Cox is a joy to watch as he grows irrationally irate in half a second, though he has plenty of reasons to. The Clooney is remarkably funny as sex-addicted, ball-of-nerves Harry whose obsession with post-sex jogging and the kind of floors people have is equivalent to Miles Massey's teeth vanity in "Intolerable." Lastly, Brad Pitt's bubble-headed Chad Feldheimer is an idiot, sure, but he's also an enormously likable, recognizable idiot, and possibly the most fun we've ever seen Pitt have in a role.

Some have accused the Coens of repeating themselves before, but this doesn't really feel like anything they've done before -- if pressed, I'd say there are elements of "The Ladykillers," "The Big Lebowski" and "Blood Simple" merged together, but no one whole comes to mind. Part of the genius of the film is that the events are so ridiculous and funny, yet the Coens choose to frame it all as deadly serious thriller (highlighted by Carter Burwell's hilariously tongue-in-cheek score), to help underline the absurdity even further. In a few brilliant scenes, J.K. Simmons -- best known as Juno's dad -- and David Rasche play all-seeing C.I.A. agents who occasionally check in on our characters' actions. They're the only people in the film that ever have the full story, and like us, they can't quite comprehend the increasingly moronic, seemingly nonsensical actions of all involved. They wrap up the story for us (we don't end up actually seeing how everything concludes -- oh, those Coens!), strategically "satisfying" yet somehow not, but it's a truly perfect ending, one that had me still chuckling on my way out of the theater. For those wondering if this was going to be another "Lebowski" or another "Ladykillers" -- well, I love them both -- but I have a feeling "Burn" will be entering the pantheon of Coen movies that a few years from now, everyone agrees how much they love.

"Bangkok Dangerous"

2008-09-06T03:30:00.000-04:00

The trailers (and the film that it's a remake of) led me to believe that "Bangkok Dangerous" might not be high art, but held potential for a silly, fun action movie. Then, I read early reviews (inexplicably, considering the film wasn't screened) and warnings from two friends who'd seen it, with the unanimous opinion that it was a dull, lifeless bore that moves at a glacial pace and features Nic Cage appearing uninterested in the proceedings he's starring in. So, which is it, is the assassin-in-Bangkok movie great fun or a great bore? Oddly, neither. Given the shitty advance word, I was surprised that I was relatively involved with what was going on here, and though nothing terribly original jumped out at me, there's a more engaging story than I was expecting, and a boldly ugly/murky sense of style going on. While some might be bored by the bouncing between action sequences, Cage's mentoring of a young man named Kong, and his romance with a deaf girl (an on-screen manifestation of his real-life penchant for Asian girls less than half his age), for me, they lent the movie something vaguely resembling genuine substance. I wasn't anything close to gripped, but I never got antsy, bored or irritated. That said, it's perplexing that a movie with Cage sporting a hairdo this ridiculous, and boasting the silliest title of 2008, takes itself as seriously as "Bangkok Dangerous" does. There are some action scenes I enjoyed, but even those are played rather staidly, and there's a startling absence of humor or moments that could be classified as tongue-in-cheek or over-the-top. By the time we reach the unintentionally goofball ending, the film's self-seriousness has reached an almost astounding level, and one wishes the decision had been made to play some of this for fun, laughs or cheap thrills.

"Another Gay Sequel: Gays Gone Wild"

2008-08-28T14:27:00.004-04:00

While Todd Stephens' "Another Gay Movie" was a sophomoric, unfunny gross-out mess of a movie, it largely evaded mass derision on the grounds of "well, if straights can make juvenile teen sex romps, why not the 'mos?" I saw it at Tribeca Film Fest with a packed house of primped Hell's Kitchen gays, and while the energy in the room was great, it was tough to ignore how quiet the house got during intended "outrageous" sequences. As a follow-up where three of the four leads have opted not to return, "Another Gay Sequel" ups the first film's ante of being merely juvenile, incompetent and unfunny, and takes things to a realm that could accurately described as a disgrace to homos everywhere. The three replacement-leads are fine, I guess, if a bit bland, but "cameos" by Perez Hilton (who should never, ever, ever consider acting) and Zac Efron-lookalike porn star Brent Corrigan (who just sounds like a big gay baby when he speaks) are among the low points.

But acting aside, this movie casts more aspersion on gays than any homophobic Sandler flick ever could. It successfully perpetuates the worst sort of stereotypes that exist, encourages the worst of behaviors that are rapidly eating away at the gay community, but moving beyond my moral grandstanding here, on a base level, this just ain't funny. The jokes are dated (and in one galling case, stolen verbatim from "Romy and Michele's High School Reunion"), eye-rolling, adolescent, and when all else fails, nauseating. While the first film had a predictable "scat" joke, here we're treated to filets of skin being ripped off an asscheek, a character with shit smeared on their upper lip, and an extended sequence of characters repeatedly vomiting on each other. The gross-out humor here recalls Tom Green's "Freddy Got Fingered" more than anything, only without that film's inspired madness and borderline-disturbing grotesquerie. By the time "Gay Sequel" got around to said group-vomiting scene, I wasn't repulsed or offended, I just stared at the screen in disbelief, wondering, "who finds this shit funny?"

"Another Gay Sequel: Gays Gone Wild" opens tomorrow, August 29th, at the Quad in New York, the Sunset 5 in Los Angeles and the Gateway in Ft. Lauderdale. It expands to San Francisco and Chicago on Sept. 5, Philadelphia and Palm Springs on Sept. 12, Washington DC and Boston on Sept. 19, and Dallas and Atlanta on Sept. 26.

Catch-Up: Part 2

2008-08-26T18:44:00.003-04:00

"Traitor"

When Don Cheadle appears in a movie these days, you know he'll be playing a noble, likable-but-flawed protagonist. So when he shows up as an African-born Muslim-American who provides explosive accessories to terrorists, you're almost immediately disoriented and intrigued. A smart, frequently entertaining thriller that has Cheadle on the run from FBI agent Guy Pearce for much of it, the movie's rarely boring, but it's disappointing how it pussies out as it goes along (and how it wastes Jeff Daniels). The film takes a twist halfway through (already entirely given away by every trailer and TV spot) that immediately transforms it from an interesting exploration of how terrorists are made into a run-of-the-mill Ludlum imitation. If pressed, I'd give "Traitor" a mild recommendation; it's a surprisingly engrossing, solid flick rearing its head in the dog days of late-August, just don't be teased by its initial threats to be something weightier or more substantive than another slick geopolitical thriller.

"Hamlet 2"

Having inexplicably caused a sensation at Sundance, "Hamlet 2" has had hype thrust upon ever since, and while it's not nearly as uproarious, outrageous, offensive or hilarious as you might be inclined to believe, it's a funny, entertaining late-summer comedy that might have been one for the ages had there been an opportunity to give the jokes a bit more polish. As it stands, I still laughed regularly, but never a hearty, enthusiastic belly laugh resulting from a truly brilliant joke. The story of a fruitlessly hopeful drama teacher Dana Marschz (Steve Coogan) who longs to stage an irreverent sequel to Shakespeare's "Hamlet," it takes a few minutes to get used to just how low-brow and general-audience-friendly the movie is, with dumb jokes and slapstick a plenty. Of the latter, while a bit involving a frequently-abused female student may be unfunny each time it's repeated, an extended sequence of Coogan drunk in a liquor store cage is physical comedy at its finest. Other bright spots include Elisabeth Shue playing herself and allowing herself to be poked fun at (Coogan gushes, "Dreamer... with the fuckin' horse!"), the "Rock Me Sexy Jesus" finale that the film's ad campaign has been built upon, and most of all, Coogan giving his almost-too-broad all as Marschz, making him pathetically ridiculous, but somehow always human. Being haphazardly linked to "Little Miss Sunshine," "Napoleon Dynamite" and "South Park" in its TV spots, "Hamlet 2" can't offer the outrageousness or consistency of, say, "Tropic Thunder," but there's still many laughs to be had, as well as really funny supporting work from Amy Poehler and Catherine Keener.

"The House Bunny"

Anna Faris has long been one of the best comic actresses around, showcasing her mad skills in the lame "Scary Movie" franchise, "Just Friends," "Lost in Translation" and "Smiley Face," but major stardom has yet to come calling for her just yet. With "The House Bunny," a surprisingly adorable, frequently funny bit of preteen girl power, she may finally have her vehicle that gets her to a higher plateau. But while Faris may be the reason the film's worth seeing, she's hardly the only good thing about it. The screenplay is as formulaic as can be -- you keep waiting for certain, necessary beats -- but I chuckled a whole lot more than I was expecting to, and there are only a few moments that noticeably fall flat. Though some gross-out stuff seems mandated by producers Adam Sandler and Allen Covert (this is a Happy Madison production after all), there's enough here to laugh at or enjoy without feeling like you've watched an entirely brainless endeavor. Minor nitpick: a magnets-on-back-brace gag is stolen from "Romy and Michele's High School Reunion."

"Death Race"

Even though she gets to utter the line "Fuck with me, cocksucker, and I'll show you who shits on the sidewalk," it's difficult to feel anything but depressed for Joan Allen when watching her in this dull, lowest-common-denominator-targeting piece of shit remake of Roger Corman's trashy but enormously entertaining "Death Race 2000." You know walking into the theater that this movie's going to be dumb, and that's fine, dumbness isn't inherently problematic with a film if it embraces its silliness. But what's amazing about Paul W.S. Anderson as a director, is that he takes films/concepts/ideas/premises that seem destined to be turned into "dumb fun" and manages to turn them into loud, joyless, leaden affairs that just pulverize you into an uninterested stupor. Not to mention, the racing sequences on display are damn near incomprehensible; I, for one, barely had a clue of what was going on, considering there's no sense of space, proximity, distance, and no discernible aesthetic difference between the vehicles. There are fleeting moments of gore and fast-paced frivolity here that offer momentary hope, but at the end of the day, "Death Race" isn't nearly entertaining enough to classify as "fun," and will really only satisfy plebes who get off on car destruction.

A Little Bit of Catch-Up...

2008-08-13T04:09:00.004-04:00

Friends, I lay myself at your feet. It's been over two weeks since I've posted any semblance of critique, and I apologize. I'm beginning to approach the possibility of an encroaching *gasp* paying job, and I fear this blog's time may be nigh; the last couple weeks, I've been wrapped up with interviews, the rare freelance gig, and enjoying my free time. I'm not ready to eulogize just yet, but I'm ever hopeful for employment -- this blog was always meant to be just a fun college thing anyway. Anyway, when and if that time comes, I'll offer more significant details, but for now, on I go. This week, I intend to get back into the couple-paragraphs-long-capsule swing of things, but right now, here's brief sum-ups of some of what I've caught and thought in the last couple weeks:

"Tropic Thunder"

Hot Damn! Perhaps predictably, Ben Stiller's satire of Hollywood's self-importance and self-obsession (his first directorial effort since 2001's "Zoolander") is the funniest, most daring, most extreme, and probably best comedy of the summer. It's incredibly smart, while unremittingly crude and over-the-top, and had me in convulsions of laughter both times I've seen it. In depicting actors starring in a war film who unwittingly get caught amidst real warfare, the film has higher aspirations than nearly any comedy we've seen as of late, and reaches them without ever getting too inside-baseball or brainless. Piled high with hilarious set-pieces and quotable lines (most courtesy of Robert Downey Jr.), "Tropic" is a blissfully R-rated ball of what-the-fuck ideas that should play like gangbusters to those who like both sharp satire and smart-stupid broad comedy. Stiller, back to 'funny' mode, leads the pack as the desperate-for-a-hit former action star Tugg Speedman, and Jack Black gives his most unhinged performance in years as comedian/heroin addict Jeff Portnoy, but this movie completely belongs to Downey. As Kirk Lazarus, an Australian method actor whose received pigmentation surgery to properly embody the black man he's playing, Downey is not only hilarious with his stereotypical delivery and dialogue, his work is, against all odds, a legitimately great piece of acting worthy of the awards and accolades his character so nonchalantly calculates. Everyone took a risk on this one, and as a result, Black and Stiller should win back some of those who were starting to lose their favor, and Downey should build even more upon his recent super-stardom. It's not a movie for everyone -- it's likely to genuinely offend or put off more than a few -- but count on excellent word-of-mouth and hearing people recount favorite jokes for weeks to come. Minor quibbles: the pairing of Nick Nolte and Danny McBride never reaches its potential, Bill Hader is noticeably underused, and the film's closing moment seems like a shameless, borderline-desperate re-visit to a gag envisioned as an audience pleaser. Still, none of that keeps it all from being a hell of a fun ride, and boasting some of the funniest shit you'll see in a movie this year. Get Some!

"Pineapple Express"

David Gordon Green's stoner action comedy entry into the Apatow factory has the best production values of the lot so far and it's one of the funnier ones. I've seen it twice now -- once blissfully stoned and once not -- and amazingly, I enjoyed it about as much both times. The rambling dialogue scenes hit the stoner nails right on the head without losing their funny, and Green does a great job shooting action-y set pieces (see the foot through the windshield car chase) as well as infusing the film with some of his lyrical Malick-esque sensibilities (a completely superfluous sequence involving our two leads playing leapfrog may be my favorite in the film). And, living up to the hype, James Franco is hilarious as perpetually fried weed dealer Saul, one of my favorite performances of the year so far.

"The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2"
Not by any means a girl movie that will cross boundaries and change minds of those not inclined to attend, but a completely worthwhile follow-up to a movie that I couldn't believe I actually enjoyed when I was dragged to it a few years back. Though it perhaps unrealistically prepares young girls for a world where every guy they meet is a handsome, polite, aw-shucks type with an insanely defined body, it's refreshing to see a movie/series that tells girls they don't necessarily need to subscribe to societal demands, and doesn't feel the need to create grandiose melodrama and sentiment to justify its existence (though I could've done without the pregnancy scare). All in all, a movie that doesn't talk down to its audience -- I'm looking at you, "Kit Kittredge" -- and actually makes for a pleasant enough sit, even for non-converts.

"Swing Vote"

Poor Kevin Costner's latest high-concept dramedy does so much that's admirable and effective and well-intentioned that it's only upon speculation that you recall what's wrong with it. Still, there's an awful lot to like here, and it says all the right things while remaining consistently entertaining. Though it's basically a two-hour Public Service Announcement for the dumber factions of the electorate, there are worse messages for politically-themed movies to have than simply "be an informed citizen." What Costner and co. are trying to say here is that your vote does matter, and don't let it go to waste by either abstaining from voting, or voting on surface wedge issues. The gimmick here is a cute one, and it's used to good effect; the movie even approaches satiric brilliance with its depiction of Pro-Life ads from Democrats and Pro-Gay Marriage ads from Republicans as they try to court our main character's vote. But while the movie's a consistently watchable time at the movie and has it's bright spots, it's difficult to ignore that many of the jokes/set-pieces don't ever really take off, the excellent supporting cast (chiefly Stanley Tucci) is largely wasted, and a suplot involving Costner's ex should've been scrapped entirely. A noble effort worthy of a matinee or a rental.

"The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor"
As you've probably heard, this movie is a total piece of shit, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a little fun with it. There's literally nothing nice to say about it from a logical standpoint; the effects are lame, the jokes are awful, the action sequences are nonsensical and poorly mapped out, Brendan Fraser's as annoying as ever, Maria Bello's British accent is astoundingly awful. And, oh yeah, there aren't actually any honest-to-goodness mummies in it. So, while I can't give any sort of rational reason for it, the movie has enough retarded energy coursing through its veins that, through it all, I was never bored and wasn't angry I had watched it. I wouldn't use the word 'entertaining' -- that's far too complimentary -- and I wouldn't recommend anyone watch it, so don't take this as even a half-hearted endorsement. But in the realm of soulless blockbusters, it's shockingly not particularly dull or painful and, if pressed, I'd watch it again over "The Mummy Returns."

"The X-Files: I Want to Believe"
I've only seen the first film and a few stray episodes -- all of which I enjoyed -- so I'm not a X-phile by any means, but for the life of me, I can't imagine who would enjoy this drab, dull, dry, uneventful bore. I know the X crew wasn't given much of a budget on this one, so perhaps that limited their scale, but that's no excuse for how talky and repetitive this sleep-inducer of a mystery is. I'm all for keeping things small, and avoiding the actiony and alien-filled theatrics, but there's only a germ of an idea here, and most of the running time is made up of Duchovny's Mulder and Anderson's Scully (both of whom constantly look like they're in serious danger of falling asleep) having the same conversation -- about faith and believing -- over and over again.

Only 67 Days Till "BHC"

2008-07-29T15:34:00.000-04:00

"Step Brothers"

2008-07-24T22:02:00.000-04:00

Even if "Step Brothers" is the least of Adam McKay and Will Ferrell's three collaborations (it's preceded by "Anchorman" and "Talladega Nights"), it's also significantly funnier than about 85% of stupid comedies usually given to us and contains nary a scene where I didn't laugh at least once. Not all of it works -- I noticed quite a few more gags falling flat than in "Anchorman" or "Talladega" -- but fans of the Ferrell/McKay arsenal should be pleased as punch with the end result. It's a slightly darker, more free-form (not to mention significantly filthier) comedy than the previous films, and whether it's your cup 'o tea or not, one has to give the two comics credit for refusing to simply retread their past works, and continuing to have some of the weirder comedic sensibilities in mainstream filmmaking today. The movie tells the story of Brennan (Ferrell) and Dale (John C. Reilly), two 40-year-old unemployed infants who still live at home with their single parents. When Brennan's mom (Mary Steenburgen) and Dale's dad (Richard Jenkins) marry, the two tornadoes of immaturity become step brothers and are forced to live under the same roof. The two initially violently loathe each other, but when they start to realize how much they have in common and become friends, things somehow get even more problematic for everyone.

Sure, we get lots of broad stuff, and much of it isn't particularly envelope-pushing or subversive, but part of what makes "Step Brothers" stand apart from the pack is the two actors play Brennan and Dale as guys whose tendencies alternation between sociopathic and downright autistic. This is not simply Will Ferrell and John C. Reilly playing man-children yet again; these guys are fucked up. They don't administer noogies or have petty arguments; they attempt to bury each other alive and rub their testicles on the other's most prized possession. The fucked-up-ness doesn't stop with the boys; there's an early-on scene with Brennan's douchebag brother Derek (Adam Scott) leading his family in a car ride sing-a-long of "Sweet Child O' Mine" that's very funny at first, and escalates to a point where it goes on long enough to become downright disturbing. The "happy" conclusion we reach at the end of the film is a mixture of hilarious and horrifying, and I wouldn't have it any other way. The film is at its best in moments like this (watch for the virile lumberjack) when it revels in the absurdity that made "Anchorman" a hallmark film and gives in to its more bizarre impulses. Reilly and Ferrell have an unassailable chemistry that actually has me interested in seeing what they would do if paired together in a different kind of work. They can play these roles in their sleep, but it's a testament to them that they never do, and give in totally in completely to their characters' idiocy, joy and vitrol all at once. But while this is being billed as the Ferrell and Reilly show, nearly everyone in the supporting cast gets their moment.

Jenkins, hot off his fourth Oscar-worthy performance in "The Visitor," cuts loose with an increasingly manic performance, and single-handedly generates some of the funniest moments in the movie; his (apparently 100% improvised) "dinosaur" monologue near the end of the film is particularly great. Scott gets perhaps the biggest showcase he's had in a movie so far, and while seeming to be intentionally aping Tom Cruise's mannerisms, he turns Derek into a hilarious cretin you love to despise. However, the movie truly belongs to Kathryn Hahn as Derek's put-upon wife who's sexually reawakened after Dale punches her overbearing husband in the face. Currently appearing on Broadway in "Boeing-Boeing," Hahn is a fairly brilliant physical comedienne (her genuinely shocking moment with a urinal is priceless) and has a pitch-perfect delivery that takes the movie up a notch whenever she's on screen. On top of R-rated gags and inspired strangeness, the movie actually has some interesting things to say, about parenting and what value being "sucessful" or "normal" has, if you bother to look for them. But at the end of the day, this is just a blissfully stupid, deranged time at the movies that will make you laugh more often than not.

"American Teen"

2008-07-24T13:14:00.002-04:00

Despite everyone flipping their shit over Nanette Burstein's documentary "American Teen" ever since it premiered at Sundance, I'm a bit torn about my own feelings on it. On the one hand, it's unquestionably entertaining; it's easy to connect to and get wrapped up with our five central teenage figures, and it presents an engaging narrative, hitting all the satisfying story beats a movie should. You will likely become attached to at least one of these kids, and you'll be thoroughly involved throughout the film; I know I wouldn't mind watching it again. My real problem with "American Teen" is that it was so obviously crafted to be a mainstream, accessible, generic, standard teen flick -- and thus, to make as much money as possible -- that it fails resoundingly as a documentary, and doesn't really attempt to offer any actual insight on the teenage experience. It's basically "The Hills" with less off-putting people. Starting out with the concept of finding real teens that fit into the "Breakfast Club" stereotypes of "The Geek," "The Jock," "The Princess," "The Rebel" and "The Heartthrob," Burnstein is so committed to sticking with this premise, that any elements threatening to make the characters/situations/ideas more complex than their brandings are pushed to the side.

From its airbrushing and shoving into the background of more interesting figures (e.g.: "The Rebel" Hannah's gay best friend) and issues (said friend's homosexuality in a small red-state town, the interplay between the social groups, genuine teenage concerns besides petty soap opera drama), the filmmakers frequently had opportunities to make a movie that really resonated, and instead opted for the most commercial route. The downplaying of more interesting content and the embracing of breakups, forced love stories and on-screen-displayed text-messages had me wondering, 'why bother even making a documentary at all?' Also, scenes were clearly, absolutely, no matter what anyone involved with the film says, staged. I'm sorry, but if a family situation is that the kid needs to get a basketball scholarship or join the Army, there is no way the dad is sitting the kid down and telling him that weeks before graduation. That is a conversation that certainly had been had numerous times way down the line (and the kid's blank reaction proves it) and was re-created for dramatic effect, and there's a half dozen more scenes in the film like it. Adolescence is a time in everyone's life that really deserves a decent documentary exploring it, and though thoroughly entertaining, "American Teen" seems far more interested in making its subjects fit into John Hughes cliche boxes than honestly documenting their emotions, interactions and concerns.

"American Teen" opens tomorrow July 25th in five theaters in New York and Los Angeles, and expands nationwide in August.

"Boy A"

2008-07-22T23:02:00.001-04:00

John Crowley's "Boy A" is the sort of uber-serious, high-minded drama that is going to engender more respect and solemn appreciation than outright enthusiasm. I was initially tempted to shrug it off due to the familiarity of its themes and occasional predilection toward the dramatically convenient/coincidental, but there's a unique power to the arc its title figure goes through that's stayed with me since I saw the film at the Tribeca Film Festival in April. The movie follows a young man, Jack ("Lions for Lambs's" Andrew Garfield), who's just been released from prison for a horrific crime he committed as a child. As he attempts to begin a new life, having missed out on all the experiences one has while growing up, Jack receives tremendous support from his parole officer (Peter Mullan) while finding himself unable to escape the society that condemned him for what he did as a boy. While the movie is almost punishingly (if effectively) dour, there are also moments of levity and quiet joy that resonate, and the performances by Garfield and Mullan are truly great. I don't really know why this is being released in the summer, because these are exactly the sort of performances that could engender awards support at year end, and thus motivate people to see the movie.

I'm still torn about the movie's structure, which intercuts the present-day narrative with flashbacks that slowly lead up to showing us what Jack did. I like what it's trying to do -- revealing the crime after we've gotten to know the guy, making us question whether a criminal's past or present is more important, and asking what we can forgive -- but it also comes off a wee bit like exploitation, leading up to the money shot of a disturbing act of violence. You'll notice moments of cliche and elements you recall from similarly-plotted pictures, but what carries you through it is the the feelings you have for Jack and Garfield's refusal to make him someone you're entirely comfortable with. We deeply sympathize with this guy, but we also pity him and occasionally, are unsettled by him. The places the story goes ultimately resonate, and it's capped with a hell of a haunting final shot that's stuck with me more than anything in the film. Some people are going to love "Boy A's" emotional power and moral complexity, while others may find it a bit too relentlessly moody -- for the "Mamma Mia" crowd this is not -- but even during its familiar beats, it's never less than absorbing, and has more than enough merits to recommend it.

"Boy A" opens tomorrow July 23rd exclusively at the Film Forum in New York, Friday July 25th at the Landmark Nuart in Los Angeles, and expands to select cities in early August.

"Mamma Mia!"

2008-07-20T05:23:00.005-04:00

The ABBA-filled musical "Mamma Mia!" is so monumentally easy to make fun of, it's hardly even fun anymore. As a regular patron of musical theatre, I found the show to be a tremendously off-putting hunk of kitsch that seemed to have burrowed its way into the hearts of post-menopausal woman and Japanese tourists everywhere. However, regardless of what you think of the source material, the movie version (like the show, directed by Phyllidia Lloyd) is inarguably bad. There are abrupt cuts, continuity errors, confused all-over-the-place direction, and laughably ridiculous moments that were actually added for the film (e.g.: a moment involving water gushing up through a crack in the ground). It just makes no sense for a rational, let alone cynical, person to like this movie... yet here I am, grappling with the fact that I kind of enjoyed myself watching it. Though I was alternating between genuinely being entertained and laughing at it, I had a goofy smile on my face for much of the movie, even amidst the eye rolls. But I admit I'm likely the exception to the rule. If you have a feeling you're going to hate this movie, you probably will.

Some silly movies require you to just accept them for what they are to be able to swallow them; but even those with just a modicum of cynicism and/or good taste will have trouble getting through "Mamma Mia!" without wincing a bit. It's cheese-tastic and kitschy to an extreme that you can't even imagine, and takes at least 15 minutes to get used to. I'm glad I saw the movie -- it was a fun way to spend two hours -- but I was cringing or watching through my fingers for at least half of it. Like the show, the plot is thin as shit, and exists purely to hang 20 ABBA songs on that barely have anything to do with what's going on in the story at any given point. In fact, I wish they'd dispensed with the dialogue between musical numbers altogether, as they add an unnecessary 25 minutes or so to the proceedings, and are the only times when the movie drags. Technically, the movie's a disgrace. The cinematography practically burn your retinas; Everything's so bright, shiny and everyone's caked in makeup and shot in the most flattering light possible (I didn't detect a wrinkle on anyone). The bountiful energy showcased by the cast always feels a bit forced, but everyone involved seems to have had a blast making the movie (except for maybe poor Stellan Skarsgard), and they're really the reason why you'll enjoy yourself -- if you do.

Weirdly enough, "The Dark Knight's" fight sequences seem to have been given more attention to choreography than this musical; the "dancing" here is entirely composed of people waving their arms in the air. Christine Baranski's rendition of "Does Your Mother Know" and Julie Walters' "Take a Chance on Me" are among the movie's highlights, and anytime Meryl Streep opened her mouth, I stopped rolling my eyes and was smitten. That's how brilliant she is as an actress -- she can make even this bullshit seem credible. I was convinced The Streep was having a genuinely good time, but then again, she could convince me of anything. She could have played Pierce Brosnan's character and likely have pulled it off. Speaking of Brosnan, the less said about his singing, the better, but I almost admire a guy with that awful of a voice putting it out there for all to hear. When he sings, the movie turns into a weird style of torture porn, but things get back into the swing of things when the ladies take center stage, and particularly during the delightful curtain-call closing credits. Like "Xanadu," "Mamma Mia!" is impossible to take seriously on any level, and functions better as airheaded, escapist entertainment than anything resembling decent moviemaking. It's all infectiously insufferable, off-putting you as you tap your foot to the beat.

"The Dark Knight"

2008-07-18T03:59:00.001-04:00

For the past three weeks or so, not a day's gone by without a new review being broken lavishing "The Dark Knight" with ejaculatory praise, each review seemingly topping the last in superlatives. Seriously, I've been awaiting with bated breath the review that swears this movie cures cancer just by watching it. So, with all this garish enthusiasm and bar-raising of anticipation, it's no small feat that "The Dark Knight" even met my expectations, if not quite exceeding them. In all honesty, enough has been written about the film that further critique almost seems redundant (I wore out my interest in reading yet another identical rave review days ago). Anything that needs to be known about the film is already known by anyone who gives a shit, so I'll just give my take on what's already been said. Is it the best superhero movie ever made? Yeah, probably, though that's almost beside the point. I'm not sure yet if for good or for ill, but this movie's going to alter the reception/expectation of future superhero movies.

Is it too dark? Abso-fucking-lutely not. Christopher Nolan's made a movie that takes this superhero framework we're used to and not only plays it straight, but mines it for all the emotional and moral complexity it's worth. I found it compelling as hell, and if there wasn't a man in a cape running around, this would hardly be considered summer fare. As for reviews that said the removal of levity saps out the fun along with it, they're right, to a point; this movie isn't "fun" -- it's too disconcerting -- but it's insanely entertaining. Sure, you'll be nervous and/or upset here or there, but you're never less than gripped, and always feel like you're getting a hearty amount of thrills and enjoyment for your buck. The PG-13? Fucking ridiculous. This movie is disturbing, unrelentingly (and realistically) violent, and the Two-Face makeup alone should've earned this an R. The running time? The movie feels long, sure, but it's the sort of long feel that actually worked for the movie since there's so much going on; it adds a soak-it-all-in, epic-ness to it all that I really dug, and doesn't resemble bloat.

Heath Ledger, as advertised, is truly phenomenal here. He's alternately funny and terrifying -- and I'm not using that adjective lightly -- adding a surprising amount of complexity, and making everyone simultaneously giddy and nervous whenever he's on screen. It's a performance that completely lives up to what you've heard. The Oscar talk is dead-on; while the Academy would never even consider rewarding this sort of performance/film if Ledger was alive, whatever the reason is, I'll be thoroughly pleased when he gets the nomination. Aaron Eckhart is going to be the unsung hero of this movie, but he's terrific in an incredibly tricky part that's destined to be overshadowed by The Joker. There's been a lot of talk about Nolan's inability to competently shoot action sequences, but I didn't find that to be the case.... or maybe I just didn't notice. If anything, that's the triumph of what Nolan's done to this series/genre: he's wrapped us up in the ideas at work, that the action is incidental.

"The Wackness"

2008-07-14T17:52:00.002-04:00

Writer/director Jonathan Levine throws a pot dealer angle and an early '90s setting onto a fairly standard coming-of-age story with "The Wackness" and, somewhat surprisingly, it's enough to make the movie not feel completely familiar. In fact, the film is more absorbing than it has any right to be and while it doesn't totally succeed, it's never less than entertaining, alternating between genuinely funny shtick and emotionally resonant observations. Centering around recent high school graduate and virgin Luke (Josh Peck), the movie follows his pot dealing and eventual friendship with psychiatrist Dr. Squires (Ben Kingsley), and shaky romance with Squires' stepdaughter Stephanie (Olivia Thirlby). I liked what Levine was trying to say here about life's disappointments and shortcomings, and both the rap soundtrack and '90s nostalgia (with one exception, a forced bit about Zima) work really well, and add another layer of definition to the proceedings. Kingsley, while never, ever, ever, sounding like a convincing New Yorker, is having fun here for the first time in a very long while, and he's a surprising joy to watch. My one real issue with the film -- which limited me to muted enthusiasm rather than full-fledged recommendation -- is that I just couldn't, on any level, give a shit about its main character. He's a fine enough character to spend 95 minutes with (Peck didn't particularly annoy me), but we're never given any reason why should like him or care about him, or find him interesting for that matter. It's tough to build an emotional connection with a mildly unlikable blank slate, so when the film ended, I left satisfied more with what the movie and its director had done than anything Luke did.

"Meet Dave"

2008-07-14T17:42:00.001-04:00

Prior to seeing "Meet Dave," a handful of critic friends of mine had told me that it was decidedly not good but better than the abysmal trailers indicated. While I see what they mean -- there are brief flashes of almost-funny here -- this latest in a long line of shitty Eddie Murphy vehicles is still nowhere near watchable. Casting Murphy in the dual role of a human spaceship (the movie originally had the much better title "Starship Dave") and the captain of a group of miniature aliens inhabiting him, the movie isn't torturous to sit through but it's altogether bland and feels like a second-rate sitcom that happened to net Eddie Murphy for its star. The movie attempts to have some moments dealing with how exposure to our society might have on these aliens, but instead we get the lesson that 30 seconds watching the revival of "A Chorus Line" will result in you turning into a full-blown queen with a lisp and a keen eye for hair and fashion. Ed Helms get some minor smirk-worthy bits as the captain's second in command, but he's the closest thing here to a bright spot. While this is nowhere near as bad as "Norbit,"something as truly awful as that monstrosity is easier to sit through than something like this, which is barely even trying and never rises above (or below) a vaguely unmemorable hum.

"Hellboy II: The Golden Army"

2008-07-11T04:24:00.002-04:00

"Pan's Labyrinth" (my favorite film of 2006) alerted the world to what many of us have known for years, which is that Guillermo Del Toro is one of the most simultaneously visionary and joyful filmmakers working today. Though he alternates between more somber, unique, personal films (such as "Pan's," "The Devil's Backbone," "Cronos") and hyperkinetic, big-budget Hollywood action fare ("Blade II," "Hellboy," "Mimic"), regardless of which he's making, it's guaranteed to be strange, wildly creative and monsters will somehow be involved. The fact that "Hellboy II: The Golden Army" even exists is proof of his determination and integrity as a filmmaker; The first "Hellboy" hardly set the box office on fire, nor did it seem to develop a cult following. Certainly, no studio had any incentive to want to make a sequel, but Del Toro felt he had more to say and do with the character. Taking advantage of his recently-earned clout from "Pan's," he got this sequel made, and as such, it's a superhero movie/creature feature with genuine feeling and emotion -- the perfect balance of his two core sensibilities.

Hellboy (Ron Perlman) has always been an unconventional hero in every possible sense (his catchphrase is "Oh, crap"), and here, Del Toro gets a lot of mileage out of the character's almost-pathetic need to be liked by the public, and his sincere contemplation on whether humanity really deserves to be saved. When he's not battling giant fauna monsters or little "tooth fairies" that latch onto you and eat away at your teeth, bone and flesh, he's working out serious personal issues with amphibious Abe Sabien (Doug Jones) and his fiery main squeeze Liz (Selma Blair). There's much metaphysics, introspection and contemplation going on here, but Del Toro never misses opportunities for affectionately funny character moments. Where the first film had a considerable sense of humor, this installment is practically an outright comedy, and unlikely enough, the balance between the humor and the action completely works. The best sequences combine the two elements, like the soon-to-be-infamous Troll Market scene, with a different grotesque creature seemingly lurking in nearly every part of the frame.

Like the first film, the narrative thread holding everything together is noticeably shaky. The action scenes, while uniformly spectacular, are largely standalone set-pieces and don't really unfold organically. But this criticism is merely an afterthought; while the movie's going on, you're too caught up in the dazzling imagery (such as an angel of death with a dozen eyes adorning its wings), boundless creativity, good-natured humor and troubling moral complexity. Whereas even the more-admired of recent superhero fare has been fairly glib and simplistic, this is a movie made with a geek's sensibility and the sense of wonder and enthusiasm should be infectious to all but the most slack-jawed audience members (I heard a "That shit wuz stupid" on the way out). Del Toro has staged numerous things here that I never thought I'd see in a movie (Hellboy and Abe drunkenly singing along to Barry Manilow's "Can't Smile Without You" comes to mind), and it's hard to be anything besides appreciative. What general audiences will make of it, I don't know/care, but it's the sort of tremendously entertaining, unrelentingly strange popcorn flick you could watch multiple times and still be wowed by.

"Journey to the Center of the Earth"

2008-07-10T16:43:00.005-04:00

Eric Brevig's dopey, uninspired "Journey to the Center of the Earth," the first movie to be shot in Digital 3-D for Digital Projection, is the sort of movie that makes me feel like a grumpy old spoilsport. It's so dumb, high-energy and eager to offer cheap thrills that critics are inexplicably largely giving it a pass, and I desperately wanted to jump on board. I longed to be one of those joyful children-at-heart audience members who could just leave the theater saying "It was fun! That fish jumped out at me!" But, I'm sorry, so much needs to overlooked and excused to proclaim this any sort of worthwhile entertainment. Treacly sentiment disguised as character/plot definition only serves to eat up chunks of running time, while Brendan Fraser gives his umpteenth paycheck-grabbing, mugging-filled performance, cementing him as one of the top actors of our time who truly needs to go away. The 3-D is fun at times, sure, but not nearly enough to sustain an 85-minute running time, and never coming close to numerous other 3-D movie experiences to be released over the last year.

Using Jules Verne's novel of the same name as a jumping off point (this is most definitively NOT an adaptation), the movie follows the adventures of professor Trevor Anderson (Fraser), his little snot teenage nephew Sean (Josh Hutcherson), and mountain guide Hannah (Anita Briem) as they travel miles into the Earth for scientific exploration. It's really just lots of typical "adventure" set-piece scenarios pieced together with a "we all miss this dead guy" (Trevor's brother and Sean's dad) vibe hanging over everything. There's a T. Rex, carnivorous plants, magnetic rocks, giant mushrooms and a bottomless pit. Oh, and jumping piranhas and beautiful giant fauna.

The movie showcases the old-fashioned/lazy kind of 3-D (i.e.: just throwing things in the audience's direction), and while the results aren't the least bit inspired, they're easily the most entertaining part of the movie. Still, while some will let it slide due to the 3-D sheen, anyone paying attention won't be able to ignore that the effects themselves truly suck (watch for that T.Rex); best to focus on the gimmicky shenanigans. We get Fraser spitting out mouthwash onto us and an "ewwww"-invoking bit with T. Rex drool on the lower end of the spectrum, where a quick yo-yo moment is fairly cool, and a sequence with jumping fish scared the crap out of everyone in my audience. When things are flying at the camera, it's a fun experience for those who are especially young and/or stoned, but even they're likely to be bored by the filler. I jumped and/or smiled approximately four times, but even in its more 'thrill ride' moments, I just couldn't bring myself down to its level, and I'd imagine most over the age of ten will feel the same way.

For a film utilizing 3-D technology, the script here just barely reaches two dimensions, let alone three. Brevig has said in interviews that he wanted to make the film about more than just the visuals, and create genuine emotion and characters we could connect to, but I wish he just stuck with the cheap visual gimmicks; it still wouldn't be a good movie, but it'd be easier to recommend. Brevig offers us mawkish subplots, a backstory about Hutcherson's dead dad, swelling music and group hugs, but it all seems like it's done out of necessity to try to elevate the intrinsically B-movie material. Despite attempts, there's no real character development and we don't ever buy their relationships; Fraser and Briem climactically kiss at the end of the movie because he's the lead and she's a pretty lady, not because we've seen any sort of chemistry or connection develop between them.

While it's best to ignore logic in this sort of fare, my mouth was often agape at how fucking stupid some of the writing is here. The plot is predicated upon the idea that there are people who believe Jules Verne's writings as fact ("Vernians"), and everything -- from plot elements to performances -- is clearly pitched at those in the audience whose brains haven't fully developed yet. Fraser behaves as if he's a cartoon character the whole movie, and when faced with a carnivorous plant he... punches it. I won't dwell upon the concepts of a character getting cell phone reception in the center of the earth, or Trevor having dreams he's not in, but they don't help matters. But when at a loss for dialogue, the three writers just conveniently plugged in product placement; early on, there's mention of Mountain Dew, TiVo and "Family Guy" all in one line of dialogue.

"Journey to the Center of the Earth" was screened for all press in its 3-D format -- and thus, every review you read will be of the 3-D version -- but it's my understanding that about two-thirds of the theaters playing the film will be showing the 2-D version (most theaters are not yet equipped with Real-D 3-D). As a 3-D movie, you probably shouldn't see it; it's subpar, if watchable. As a 2-D movie, I can only imagine it'd be one of the more excruciating sits of the summer. While the 3-D "Beowulf" was unquestionably the way to see that film, the 2-D version was still a solid entertainment. The movie worked through and through, the 3-D only made it more exciting, visually stunning and enhanced the experience. Here, the only selling point is things flying at the camera, so I can't imagine who would enjoy it in 2-D. The movie is kind of pretty to look at, and fun to an extent (if inarguably for small children), but as a whole, it barely holds together as a movie. The experience most closely resembles a bloated, mawkish Epcot Center ride with lower production values.

Wow, more than halfway done.

2008-07-06T16:22:00.005-04:00

So, we're about a week past the halfway point of 2008, and so far, the year's been a bit weak. Oh, we've had some strong stuff for certain, but it looks like this year's going to be especially weighted on the latter end. Ahead, we have new films from Christopher Nolan, Adam McKay, The Coen Brothers, David Fincher, Baz Luhrrman, Oliver Stone, Gus van Sant, Charlie Kaufman, Rian Johnson, Larry Charles, Kevin Smith, Fernando Meirelles, Alan Ball and Sam Mendes, so needless to say, I'm excited. Anyway, we've only had a handful of great films this year, but more than a few worth watching. Very, very few of these movies will likely make it on my end of the year list, but so far, at this halfway point, here are my favorite films of 2008:

1. "WALL·E "

2. "In Bruges"

3. "The Fall"

4. "Shine a Light"

5. "The Visitor"

6. "Cloverfield"

7. "Reprise"

8. "Young @ Heart"

9. "Be Kind Rewind"

10. "Stop-Loss"

11. "Son of Rambow"

12. "Forgetting Sarah Marshall"

13. "The Ruins"

14. "Standard Operating Procedure"

15. "Paranoid Park"

16. "Speed Racer"
17. "Kung Fu Panda"
18. "The Signal"
19. "Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day"
20. "The Foot Fist Way"
21. "The Promotion"
22. "Roman De Gare"
23. "How She Move"
24. "Teeth"
25. "Leatherheads"

TWENTY SPECIAL PERFORMANCES
- Hiam Abbass, "The Visitor"
- Kate Beckinsale, "Snow Angels"
- Russell Brand, "Forgetting Sarah Marshall"
- Thomas Haden Church, "Smart People"
- Patricia Clarkson, "Married Life"
- Chris Cooper, "Married Life"
- Robert Downey, Jr., "Charlie Bartlett"
- Robert Downey, Jr., "Iron Man"
- Colin Farrell, "Cassandra's Dream"
- Colin Farrell, "In Bruges"
- Ralph Fiennes, "In Bruges"
- Brendan Gleeson, "In Bruges"
- Richard Jenkins, "The Visitor"
- Danny McBride, "The Foot Fist Way"
- Frances McDormand, "Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day"
- Bill Milner, "Son of Rambow"
- Julianne Moore, "Savage Grace"
- Will Poulter, "Son of Rambow"
- Stephen Rea, "Stuck"
- Sam Rockwell, "Snow Angels"
- Catinca Untaru, "The Fall"
- Naomi Watts, "Funny Games"

"Hancock" -- * *

2008-07-02T00:02:00.000-04:00

Like most misfires of this summer movie season, Peter Berg's "Hancock" begins with a great idea. Imagine if Superman or Spider-Man resented the fact that they were just expected to be super all the time, use their powers for good and go around saving people. What if they hated humanity, themselves most of all, and preferred to spend their days laying around getting super drunk. Will Smith's superhero movie smartly uses this concept as its jumping off point, and when "Hancock" is being the film it promises to be (i.e.: its first half hour), it works, and has audiences in the palm of its hand. From that point on though, it gets progressively worse, suffering from abrupt tonal shifts, a crippling aimlessness, alternating between head-hurting exposition, adolescent-targeting slapstick and jarring sentimentality. It's rare that I think a movie would've been better had it played it safer, but had "Hancock" stayed within its unique premise, it could've been something special. As it stands, it ends up just being a handful of numerous vaguely interesting ideas swimming around in a mess of a movie that never figures out what to do with them.

The movie opens with a high-speed, gun-equipped freeway chase being dealt with by police. Cut to our "hero" Hancock (Smith) asleep on a bench. Alerted to the situation by a little kid who calls him an "asshole," Hancock -- drunk in the middle of the day -- grudgingly launches off and flies to the scene of the crime, killing some seagulls and almost knocking out a plane in the process. At the end of the day, he takes out the bad guys (they make the mistake of shooting his liquor bottle), but only after causing $9 million in damage, continuing his public perception of being an asshole. He doesn't give a shit what people think, and certainly doesn't care about being nice; he tells an old lady who looks his way in a bar, "I will break my foot off in your ass, woman." But he's just misunderstood, you see. He has a cloudy past that he occasionally gets misty over; something to do with two ticket stubs for "Frankenstein" he keeps hidden away. One day, when he saves the life of nice guy publicist Ray Embrey (Jason Bateman), dubbed "The Bono of PR," Embrey offers to, in return, help Hancock clean up his imagine. Ray's bitchy wife Mary (Charlize Theron), who dislikes Hancock for some reason, thinks he's wasting his time, but Hancock soon falls in line, even reluctantly agreeing to willingly go to jail when a warrant is issued for his arrest (and he's condemned by Nancy Grace). He sits in jail for a bit, till the chief of police needs him, and then... well, then the movie kind of rambles around a bunch. The key here would have been to stretch out these first 45 minutes to a feature length running time. Nothing really significant happens. We get a really non-threatening bad guy who is in a total of three scenes. We get a twist. Then the movie turns into a drama. Then it ends, and everyone walks out scratching their heads, wondering what happened to that movie they started watching.

The opening 30 minutes do a great job giving us an idea of seemingly what kind of movie this is going to be and who Hancock is. It shows our protagonist in action, saving people, pissing people off, being rude, meeting Ray and setting the story in motion. It's filled with effective action (there's even more train destruction than the third act of "Wanted") and is consistently funny. For a PG-13 family-targeting Will Smith superhero movie opening on July 4th weekend, it's surprisingly, refreshingly not afraid to be naughty, using its one "fuck" in the first few minutes in a particularly hilarious, rude one-liner. There are moments that are funny in and of themselves, but they also establish what a jerk Hancock is (in response to a woman's complaint, "I can smell the alcohol on your breath," he responds "Cuz I've been drinkin', bitch!"). The plot starts moving fairly quickly, as Hancock's already in jail and being trained to say "good job" to the law enforcement officials he shows up to help by the half-hour mark. This first act fulfills on the promise of the film's concept, cast and filmmmaker, and had me thinking it was on track to be a well-made, crowd-pleasing, clever, original movie. Sure, it could accurately be summed up by "Will Smith curses and destroys stuff" but it's a lot of fun, and lets us know right away that this is going to be a more innovative and edgy summer blockbuster than most.

Around minute 30 (once Hancock is in jail), the comedy starts to get alternately more sitcom-like and significantly dumber. I found it kind of distractingly implausible that people would keep taunting and picking fights with someone they know has superpowers, but hey, the studio needed a 'Will Smith beats up people funny' moment.Things were fairly broad from the outset, but once we have our hero following through on his promise to shove one convict's head up another's ass, we've officially entered Mike Myers/Adam Sandler territory, and it just doesn't fit with what's come before it; to top it off, the "Sanford and Son" theme song inexplicably kicks in (perhaps to underline how shuck-and-jive pandering the scene is). Still, while I hated that specific sequence, the way my audience responded, you'd have thought Jesus Christ and Tyler Perry had collaborated and told them the funniest joke in the world. So, at the 60-minute mark or so, while the quality-level had come down a bit, I thought "Hancock" would be more than just a hit, but a huge blockbuster and have killer word-of-mouth. It may have been compromised, but it was still for all intents and purposes, a comedy. But while this middle portion burns up only some of its good will, the third act takes care of the rest of it.

At about this two-thirds mark, you start to realize, "Hey, nothing's really happened, and there hasn't been any real conflict." At this point the movie completely goes off the rails, shoe-horning in a half-assed villain, focusing almost entirely on Hancock's convoluted origin and mythology of "his kind," and becoming this really odd, sentimental drama. In theory, I'm okay with shifts in tone if they work for the movie, or are the result of some sort of progression. I don't need my movies to be tidy and fit neatly into a box, but a tonal shift could've been pulled off without feeling so strained, so abrupt, so flat, so what-the-fuck. The scenes that flounder here would be bad in any context, not just in contrast to what comes before them. Hancock's backstory/mythology/origin is extremely confusing, vague and silly all at once, and things start to go seriously awry during an out-of-place, special effects heavy, property-destroying fight between two characters. Without giving too much away, the final portion shares much in common with the third act of "Superman Returns" (i.e.: Superman in hospital bed) and do you remember that being a part of the movie people were happy with? It's all very stark and serious and laughably sentimental, leading into a jaw-droppingly happy ending that'll have most people wondering "How did we get here?" Walking out of the theater, I momentarily had the mindset that I had hated the movie, until I remembered how much I was enjoying it a mere hour ago.

There's a reason Smith is the biggest star in America right now, and that's because he seemingly respects his audience enough to never phone it in, and makes movies where he gets to radiate charisma, likability and skills. Despite him playing "unlikable," he's charming even as an asshole, and makes this hodgepodge work as well as it does (which has me shuddering to think how it would fare without him). He manages to be convincing both as a superhero and as a drunk who takes a whiskey bottle to the bathroom, and regardless of how the movie's received by the public, his Hollywood star cred shouldn't take any sort of hit from it. As for the other leads, "Arrested Development" geeks like myself will be giggling throughout, as "Hancock" gives us the reunion of Michael Bluth (Bateman) and retarded Rita (Theron). It's a terrific showcase for Bateman, giving him the opportunity to do his effortlessly funny thing (he tells Hancock, "It's not a crime to be an asshole, but it's very counter-productive") and weirdly, he has the most fleshed-out character. He does some great work here, and should prove to the Hollywood powers that be that he can anchor his own movie again. Theron's fine, but she's fairly bland here. For a special-effects-heavy, brainless piece of entertainment, she doesn't seem to be enjoying herself at any point. However, until she slathers on some hooker-looking makeup for the last third, I think this is the best she's ever looked in a movie.

Berg's been a director I've always liked a whole lot, and the concept here, at the outset, seems to mesh well with his former films, while allowing him to work on a much grander scale (a career trajectory not unlike Jon Favreau). From his underrated poisonous gem "Very Bad Things" to the best sports film of at least the last ten years, "Friday Night Lights" to last year's "The Kingdom," Berg's shown narrative and stylistic growth as a filmmaker each time out, and I hoped "Hancock" would continue the pattern. But while Berg does some interesting things here, his approach seems to clash with some of the content on display here, and overall (especially the stuff that seems to be the result of studio-mandated re-writes, re-shoots, etc.), it seems to go against his core impulses as a filmmaker -- notably, that smiley-face ending. He infuses the film with his Mann-protege director style, including his trademark "shakey cam," which occasionally boldly and effectively gives the movie an aesthetic superhero films normally wouldn't dare brandish, but at other times, verges on unnecessary and annoying (e.g.: randomly drawing attention to itself during a dinner table scene).

There's a story turn that bears heavily on the third act, which the ads have gone out of their way to avoid (almost no footage from the last half hour has made its way into the promotional materials), yet everyone involved with the movie has been making sure to hint at whenever they make a television appearance. It's being held as a "twist" and I won't reveal the nature, but I found it to be so incredibly telegraphed that it should barely count as such. On top of you knowing that an Oscar-winning actress of Charlize Theron's stature would never take a simple housewife role where she just stands in the background the whole movie, she gives Hancock a knowing look in literally every scene she shares with him that clearly says, "We have some sort of past history that will come into play at the two-thirds mark." When, sure enough, it does come into play, it's tough to greet it with any sort of surprise. In this kind of movie, it didn't matter to me that the twist is kind of silly -- it's fine -- but the movie employs it in perhaps the most uninteresting way possible.

I would recommend studio executives and filmmakers go see "Hancock" to see the ultimate example of why staking a claim on a release date before a movie's even been shot has potential to destroy that movie. Based on the long-gestating, supposedly brilliant screenplay "Tonight, He Comes," the script here by Vincent Ngo and Vince Gilligan (writer of the truly awful "Home Fries") was rushed into production once Will Smith became attached, and I'm convinced the committed-to release date of July 2nd, 2008 is almost entirely the cause of the mess we ended up with. This thing was reportedly re-written and re-written and shot and re-shot a dozen times over (supposedly, a reshoot of the ending took place just a few weeks ago), and it shows all over the screen. The movie never finds its footing in what it wants to be, changing its intentions from scene-to-scene. It's blatantly evident that it's been edited to death (a "super ejaculate" sequence much-discussed in numerous test screening reviews is nowhere to be found), with subplots and backstories missing entire chunks, and the whole affair running a meager 85 minutes. There were varied reports of different versions/scenes being tested and shot a handful of times over the last couple months, and that sort of haphazard, rushed re-tooling is just not the way to get a decent finished product.

It's a fascinating, and dispiriting, experience to watch a movie self-destruct before your eyes, but that's exactly what happens here. "Hancock" is ambitious and original enough to stand out in a summer full of sequels and franchises, and manages to never be boring; however, by the last third, you're watching it through your fingers. No matter how great your love for Will Smith, it's tough to ignore how intensely the air seeps out of the movie by the time the credits roll. Not that it should matter much; Smith is such a huge, unstoppable star, that no matter what reception it receives, "Hancock" is virtually guaranteed at least a $200 million gross. It'll have a huge opening weekend for sure, but it'll be interesting to see how it holds up in the following weeks. Who knows, I might be an idiot -- my friends at the screening all seemed mildly positive, and the audience clapped at the end -- but I think the movie's going to lose people as it goes on, or at least, diminish their enthusiasm; it tries to be all things to all people, but as a result, might have the opposite effect. Personally, I'm curious to see the version that Smith and Berg signed on to make, but sadly, we'll never have that opportunity.

"Kit Kittredge: An American Girl" -- * 1/2

2008-07-02T00:01:00.001-04:00

Not only did I borderline-hate "Kit Kittredge: An American Girl," I'm flat-out disgusted with the critical community that is largely giving it a pass. Look at some of the review pull-quotes from Rotten Tomatoes: "While the script feels a little stiff and moralistic at times, it's hard to fault a film with such an intelligent, good-hearted heroine." Am I the only one who feels nauseous? This is the type of fare critics are supposed to encourage; it says and does all the right things. It's extremely sweet, innocent and has positive messages for young girls and moral values up the wazoo. It's so wholesome, I was shocked that it dared to feature a character saying "Holy cow" at one point. However, it's also so earnest, unrelentingly dull and devoid of entertainment, it's virtually impossible to sap any enjoyment out of it (and believe me, I was trying). It's as if the filmmakers assembled a bunch of Hollywood actors to be in the most gosh-durn, swellest, positive values film for young girls growing up in the 1950s. Those who found "WALL-E" too clever, too filled with ideas, and just too damned entertaining will have a ball here, but anyone else will likely find difficulty being engaged by "Dry Toast: The Movie."

Opening on May 2, 1934, our movie centers around 10-year-old middle-class Kit (Abigail Breslin), an aspiring reporter, and her various whimsical shenanigans. There's lots of talk about the depression, hobos, soup kitchens, saving leftovers and financial support. Kids at her school taunt and laugh at the poorer kids, since you know how caught up elementary schoolers can be with other kids' families' economic statuses. Most of the movie's "plot" has to do with what happens after Kit sees her dad at a soup kitchen and mom has to sell eggs and take in boarders (including Joan Cusack, Stanley Tucci and Jane Krakowski). All the while, Kit befriends two young kindly hobos, whom everyone tells her is bad news. When one of them (adorably homeless teenage ragamuffin Max Thierot) is accused of a series of crimes, it's up to Kit to prove what she knows in her heart, solve the case and show everyone the truth. Life lessons are learned.

Some friends have shrugged off my dislike for this film by saying I'm not its prime demographic, but fuck that logic. Fuck it right in the ear. I dig chick flicks, kiddie movies, Afro-centric fare, the list goes on. I like all sorts of films, and as long as a movie works on its own terms, I'll enjoy it. I don't believe in grading movies for certain demos besides myself "on a curve," and I can't imagine 8-year-old girls being any less bored by this than I was. This is insulting pap for audiences of any age, and I may not be a girl, but I know when I was a wee one, I didn't like being talked down to, nor did I like being bored into a stupor. Apparently these 'American Girl' dolls and books are huge and I'm just oblivious, but their love for a doll should hardly be able to get them through this Depression-era package of bland earnestness.

For such a pandering, flavorless cash-grab, "Kit Kittredge" has a surprisingly strong cast, none of whom do anything resembling work they'd be proud of. Breslin fares the best, since she merely continues playing her 'upbeat-yet-weepy girl' archetype she plays in every movie, and does fine. The problems with the character aren't really her fault; besides her wig being distractingly terrible, Kit is supposed to be this incredibly intelligent, adult-acting young girl, but she's impulsive enough to comment on a fellow kid's big ears, and balk at her mother's egg-selling necessities. She's also an incredibly un-engaging protagonist, but it's no surprise that darling Kit is so boring, since she's the offspring of the blandest parents ever, Julia Ormond and Chris O'Donnell.

It's always a delight to see Glenne Headly, even though she looks like literal death here; Seriously, it's never a good sign when actresses look sickly enough to inspire sympathy, and for you to check IMDb for their age and health status (for those concerned, she's only 53). The movie however, disgracefully, manages to make two of my faves, Cusack and Krakowski, incredibly uninteresting to watch. Tucci comes the closest to being mildly entertaining out of anyone; he has two or three moments when I almost chuckled. All the actors here clearly just showed up to do a nice movie for their kids and pick up a paycheck; there's no evidence of character embodiment or strong acting prowess on display.

With a 95 minute length that feels at least twice that, it seems like audience-taunting have a character utter the line "Your eyelids are getting heavy, you can barely keep them open" at the halfway point, but then, this isn't a film that has much regard for its audience. And I'm not saying all people should be as cynical as I am, but are there really people that could withhold chuckling at moments like our little black kid character (played by *spoiler alert* Will Smith's daughter, Willow) saying, "That'd be swell, Sterling!" or music turning somber right before a character reveals mid-story "...and then the influenza came." The "humor" is leaden, with the big "laugh" moment being someone walking in on someone doing an impression of them... yeah. When all else fails, a character with a monkey is introduced.

"Kit Kittredge: An American Girl," executive-produced by Julia Roberts, is competently made for sure, and I'll admit it's nice to see a movie made for girls that's written and directed by women. But I'd rather those efforts had been put toward a work that actually had a semblance of originality, creativity or -- dare I say it? -- fun. Some (i.e. Conservative Christian Suburban mothers who complain they don't make kids movies like they used to) will be pleased with this completely joyless, entertainment-free vanilla romp, but for most audience members, it'll be more of an eye-rolling, slack-jawed endurance test of a movie. For all the talk about the immorality of movies like "Wanted," for me, this movie is much more of an embodiment of what is wrong with modern American cinema.

"WALL·E" -- * * * *

2008-06-27T00:02:00.000-04:00

**WARNING: My review of "WALL·E" reveals a bit more than the trailer does, but I don't discuss anything past the halfway point of a 90 minute movie**

While Pixar's consistent greatness has gotten to the point of being taken for granted, it's often overlooked to what a huge extent they've changed the animation world; these aren't films that settle for being merely 'cute.' Adults, in large numbers, are now going to animated movies on their own. Animated movies are now getting Oscar nominations for their screenplays. Every animated work is now held to a higher standard: the Pixar standard. Even the ones that are favorably received ("Kung Fu Panda") are preceded with "It's no Pixar movie, but..." With Andrew Stanton's "WALL·E," I don't want to say Pixar has produced their best film yet, but I don't want to rule it out either. It's certainly in the upper echelon at least, joining the ranks of "Toy Story 2," "The Incredibles," "Finding Nemo" and "Ratatouille." It's a gutsy, downright exhilarating film, one that I think takes more risks in terms of storytelling and filmmaking decisions than any Pixar film has thus far, but does it while remaining entirely accessible to anyone (of any age) who wants in. A lot of times folks will grade certain films generously because they're "for kids," but "WALL·E" offers originality, comedy, emotion, character definition, and substantive ideas on a level that surpasses most movies, period, not just in the animation world. It's a complete delight, and at this halfway point, my favorite film of 2008 so far.

Opening in the year 2800, "WALL·E" begins with shots of a decimated, unoccupied planet Earth filled with empty, decrepit buildings (all ominously labeled with 'BNL') and massive piles of garbage. As the camera swoops in, we see the planet is not entirely vacated, but is occupied by a lone figure, a robot named WALL·E -- Waste Allocation Load Lifter, Earth-Class. WALL·E is apparently, one of many such robots that were sent to clean up Earth and attempt to make it sustainable for life, but when the goal was deemed futile, he was the only one (assumedly mistakenly) left behind. Unphased, WALL·E continues to do (as he's done for presumably hundreds of years) what he was made to do, clean up the Earth -- albeit slowly -- and turns garbage into crushed cubes and stack them up. With only a Big Mouth Billy Bass and a cockroach to keep him company, he mostly spends his non-working time wading through the various items humans left behind and watching his favorite movie, "Hello, Dolly!" When a ship drops off a different sort of robot with an indeterminate mission, WALL·E is immediately smitten, and after much wooing, the other robot (named EVE -- Extra-Terrestrial Vegetation Allocator) reciprocates. The two have a brief, cordial romance, but when WALL·E presents EVE with a little seedling/plant he's found, she's quick to store it, and very soon, the rocket has returned to take her back. Unwilling to lose his newfound love, WALL·E impulsively grabs hold of the rocket and begins hurtling along for the ride back to wherever EVE was sent from.

Much in the way "Kung Fu Panda" was a genuine Kung Fu film, "WALL·E" is in every respect a science-fiction film, and proudly wears its influences on its sleeve. From its core concept to the places it goes as it progresses, the film has some fantastic ideas, and presents a fascinating -- and a wee bit terrifying -- hypothesis of the future that even gets its biological details right (see, cockroaches really can survive anything!). From its grim view of our future, to the chase sequences, to the exploration through space to the wild ambition on display aboard the space station and the places the plot goes in second and third act, this is a truly innovative work of science-fiction that'll simultaneously make geeks foam at the mouth and introduce kids to a genre they might be heretofore unfamiliar with (albeit setting the bar fairly high early on). Stanton has stated that much of "WALL·E" is based on old science fiction classics that influenced him, and while there are noticeable traces of "Silent Running" and "Alien," it's virtually impossible to miss the numerous nods to "2001: A Space Oddysey;" the infamous music is used in a climactic sequence, and hell, the "villain" of the whole thing is a single, programmed despotic red light/eye.

What's so great about Pixar, besides the boundless creativity on display, is that they address very adult themes in very kid-accessible ways without condescension, so that both chunks of the audience get a rewarding experience out of the deal. Here, clearly, the underpinnings are based in the concepts of environmentalism, and specifically about humanity's habit of consumption, planetary destruction and excessive waste. We find out Earth officially became un-inhabitable around 2110, and WALL·E and EVE's respective missions are to clean up humanity's destruction, and help to begin re-instating some sort of ecosystem. Currently, all of remaining humanity is (and has been for about 700 years) confined to a space station made for their mass consumption, and they're all morbidly obese, gelatinous Americans who ride around in carts, and need machines for everything, even to help them sit up. It's an extremely perceptive and scarily not-too-exaggerated vision of the direction humanity is potentially heading (and in some parts of the country, already is). The potential effects of our willy-nilly destruction of our planet is an issue rarely touched upon in movies, let alone ones targeted at children, and as such, it's a phenomenal way of broaching the subject with young'ns, and doing so tactfully (where it's organic to the story) rather than polemically. While it would be impossible to not take note of such themes, Stanton does all of this without ever letting it overtake the movie or allowing this entertainment to transform into a lecture. It's all going on, but it's almost happening in the background, as the movie never loses sight of the central story being told, which is that of WALL·E's journey and his transformative relationship with EVE.

The movie wouldn't work if we somehow didn't care for our titular figure, but thankfully, that's not the case. For a robot, let alone one who doesn't speak, it's astonishing how well-defined a character and personality WALL·E is. I've always had issues with caring, or developing feelings, for characters that are by definition devoid of genuine emotion, but both "WALL·E" and "A.I." found ways around it in having their robot leads develop personalities, either via glitch or specific programming. Turns out WALL·E is one of the more carefully etched figures we've seen in a movie this year, and the filmmakers have equipped him with delicate character development that slowly allows us in and to go along with him through his emotional journey. WALL·E is a creature imbued with sweetness and child-like fascination, as illustrated in how he cherishes little knick-knacks left behind by the human race, whether they're Rubik's cubes, bras, rubber duckies or engagement rings (though he prefers the case to the ring itself).

But he's perhaps best defined by his obsession with the film version of "Hello Dolly!" Before he goes to "sleep" each night, he watches a chunk of the film on his video iPod and longs for someone/something to share a hand-holding session or a dance with; he also records songs from the film and listens to them on playback as he engages in his single-handed clean-up. When Eve finally arrives (she gets born/programmed by her ship before his eyes), WALL·E's immediately entranced, and his extremely shy and courteous courting of her to the strains of Louis Armstrong's "La Vie en Rose" is irresistably adorable. She initially resists -- she's there to follow through on what she's programmed to do -- and shoots at him whenever he chuckles or makes a charmed noise at something she does, but when she finally subsides, and they "meet cute" and introduce themselves, it may be the cutest thing ever. When she's taken back by her ship, WALL·E's determination is more than just a cute character tic, it's rousing and moving all at once; he's finally found companionship at last, and he's not going to lose it.

It's nothing new for Pixar films to be blessed with incredibly gorgeous visuals, but "WALL·E" has so many stunningly beautiful images and sequences, one would be forgiven for being too transfixed to heed the story/characters much mind on a first viewing. When you see that Coens regular Roger Deakins was a 'visual consultant,' everything starts to make sense. There are some quick visual gags that alternate between amusing (an ad proclaiming "Time for Lunch... in a Cup!" and an "Outlet Mall Coming Soon" sign on the moon) and brilliant (WALL·E playing Pong against an immobile Eve), but the chiefly memorable visuals on display here are the ones that may just drop your jaw depending how big a screen you see them on. I found the animation tremendous at every turn, but I was particularly taken with the sequence of WALL·E traveling through orbit on the back of the rocket, and the film's opening shot of space set to "Put On Your Sunday Clothes" from "Hello, Dolly!," as the camera flies towards (and through) a decimated earth with garbage piled as high as the sky. It's a simultaneously beautiful, haunting and darkly funny image that had me from the get-go.

I've read about a dozen articles speculating about what a risk "WALL·E" represents in that its first 38 minutes offer almost no dialogue (WALL·E and Eve mostly just hum and make whirring noises), and questioning whether kids will be able to sit still for an extended, word-free chunk that bears more in common with works of Tati, Chaplin and Keaton than old adventures with Buzz, Nemo and Sully. To this, I ask, are they fucking kidding? If anything, kids are bored by dialogue, and in my experience, they're far more engaged by moments centric on visuals and action than witty banter. Hell, wasn't "Ratatouille" considered a relative box office 'disappointment' because it was too reliant on the screenplay and dialogue for the wee tykes? I think kids are going to go for "WALL·E" in a big way, and if anything, enjoy the first third the most. If very young kids will have issue with anything, I think it might be with grasping the ideas at work here. The actual concept of robots and understanding the whole being-programmed and lack-of-free-will elements can be a bit jarring or confusing (during some quieter moments, I heard a toddler or two ask 'Why did he/she do that?'), and some smaller ones may not quite comprehend how the earth ended up this way, or why all these people are all so fat and can't walk. I think WALL·E and EVE will be their eyes and ears and largely get them through it, but it is kind of heady stuff for little ones.

Even as someone who loves the film, some of the ejaculatory hyperbole I'm reading (particularly on Ain't It Cool News) seems to take expectations to an absurd, almost impossible-to-reach degree, and I've already talked to two different people who, while still liking the film, found themselves to be somewhat let down. To be blunt, you should be excited about the emotionally intimate, aesthetically epic "WALL·E" -- I love it unabashedly, regardless of what any review can or will ever say about it -- but I worry about overhyping it. I'll be the first to admit, it's not a perfect film (I'm still working out how I feel about the brief use of real human actors). That said, if you are at all susceptible to the magic that movies are capable of, you really have no excuse to miss this. Pay the 'G' rating, with its implications of being kiddie-oriented, no mind; "WALL·E" is more thoughtful, daring, entertaining and emotionally satisfying than anything else playing in theaters right now, and I can't recommend it enough.

"Wanted" -- * * *

2008-06-27T00:01:00.000-04:00

At least once every few months, an action movie bursts into theaters with both guns blazing and either captures the imagination of the violence-loving masses or crumbles under the weight of its own ambitions (or lack thereof). Cheerfully amoral and blissfully dumb, Timur Bekmambetov's "Wanted" thankfully falls into the former category, and armed with a sense of humor and a Hefty bag-full of visual tricks, it sends you out of the theater at least twice as full of adrenaline as you were when you entered. It's basically "The Matrix" if the Wachowskis lost interest in philosophy and weren't quite so concerned with making sense. While fans of the source material and/or logic may not be able to let themselves surrender to the high-energy proceedings, its propulsive, unrelenting nature will likely suck in the most base-influenced and crass among us, and leave the rest either chuckling or nodding in its wake.

All the action-filled shenanigans revolve around Wesley Gibson (James McAvoy), the sort of pathetic lout who Googles his name at work and gets no results. His boss (Lorna Scott) gives him shit, his girlfriend (Kristen Hager) is cheating on him, he downs anxiety-suppressants like candy, his ATM calls him "asshole" when he tries to make a withdrawal, and he generally all-around hates his life. When at the drugstore to pick up some more medication, a voluptuous assassin named Fox (Angelina Jolie) sidles up beside him and informs him that his father (David O'Hara), who Wesley thought long-dead, was in fact, killed only yesterday. Turns out he was a member of a secret society of assassins called The Fraternity, and now the dude (Thomas Kretschmann) who snuffed out pop wants to kill Wesley too. After an extended chase, Fox takes Wesley to the Fraternity's headquarters -- also a textile factory -- and meets their leader, Sloan (Morgan Freeman). Wesley is promptly shown his true destiny, to join the league of assassins and wipe out those who need wiping out. Suddenly, Wesley is important, and his once-futile existence is given some credence; cue the echoes of "Matrix's" 'chosen one' arc. Sort-of a "Kung Fu Panda" for the over-18 set, the movie is largely made up of Wesley's training as he learns how to best unleash that (as Sloan says) "caged lion locked inside," get schooled in gun-and-knife-wielding (including "curving" bullets), and get revenge for his slain father.

Bekmambetov proves here that he can assuredly handle a big-budget Hollywood film, while infusing it with the visual flair that was the only good thing about "Night Watch." The closest comparison tone-wise would probably be "Shoot 'Em Up," but I recently rewatched that film, and while I still recommend it, it's more of a patchwork of goofy, fun set-pieces than an actual movie; "Wanted" delivers a more satisfying, slickly-packaged whole, and that's primarily due to the Russian helmer's work. I liked little touches, like the symbolic smashing of Wesley's boss's red stapler, but the true masterstroke is a shot of Wesley smacking the gentleman screwing his girlfriend across the face with his office keyboard, with the keys flying toward the camera spelling out 'FUCK YOU,' with the dude's upside down tooth making up the second 'U.' It's visual ingenuity like that that makes this a lot more fun to watch than other films featuring some of this one's more familiar elements. The movie also fucks with its chronology a lot in inventive ways; a scene will abruptly end prematurely and then we'll find out how they actually ended up later (e.g.: Wesley gets stabbed in the hand, and then we cut to him in a bathtub encased in wax). Though it may frustrate some, it's not just a stupid device; it enhances our understanding of why the scenes end up the way they do.

With its non-stop absurdity and defiance of anything grounding it in reality, "Wanted" might as well be a comedy, and that's not a criticism; its dumbness isn't something you have to overlook, it's a key component to the fun. Bekmambetov knows every step of the way how silly all this is, and refuses to either play it 100% straight or let jokiness undermine the events of the movie. Instead, he has fun with the defiance of logic, always leaving the film's tongue firmly planted in its cheek (my first chuckle was in the first second, as the setting-establishing bottom crawl reads "1,000 Years Ago"), and gets us to go along with it by never over-explaining things to us. The logic behind, say, the curving of the bullets, is never really explained -- we just have to accept that this movie takes place where bullets can curve if you whip your gun around like a boomerang while you shoot it. In addition, characters jump through windows of skyscrapers, assassination targets are randomly determined by code written in fibers on a giant weaving system called the Loom of Fate, wings are shot off flies, and exploding rats are used as weapons; if you can't deal with it, it's best to jump off the train as its leaving the station. However, in a movie full of ridiculous things happening, perhaps the most ridiculous is that James McAvoy's girlfriend would cheat on him with some oafy, unattractive douche.

For a movie about people who spend the majority of their time slinging around lots of knives and guns, the proceedings are almost jarringly good-spirited and freewheeling. I kept waiting for things to get a bit darker than they did (even "Shoot 'Em Up" reveled in black humor or shock value), but I was okay with the fact that they didn't; this movie's just interested in showing you a good time. At the end of the day, this is most emphatically an "action movie," and a big reason why I think it works is that there's something about the action sequences that aren't just energetic, but downright energizing. I could see some finding the perpetual nature of them alone a bit numbing, but by the time we hit the halfway mark, I felt overly-caffeinated and was ready for more. There have certainly been more violent movies than this, but it may hold the record for most slo-mo brains splattering out the back of heads in a major motion picture. There are two major, excellent action sequences in the first 20 minutes alone, and some may cite a climactic train shootout (with bullets that keep smacking into each other) as a favorite, but the moment the movie truly won me over is when one target is killed through his limo's moonroof... by McAvoy and Jolie flipping their car over the limo mid-drive. Yes, it's that sort of movie. It's also the sort of movie that has difficulty sustaining the adrenaline it builds up by the time we near the end, but there's enough here to satisfy even the most A.D.D. of action fanatics.

The film is (understandably) being sold with Jolie's supporting presence, but McAvoy's clearly the star of this show. While I couldn't be happier for the supremely talented Scot, I find it highly amusing -- and a little sad -- that after his illuminating, complex turn in the beneath-him "Atonement," it's his crack at being 'James McAvoy: Action Hero' that may turn him into a household name. It's also regrettable that for an actor who's built up 'heartthrob' status with his transfixing blue eyes and Scottish brogue, McAvoy is again -- after "Penelope" -- asked to perform his role with an American accent (blue eyes still here though). The Yankee accent has improved since the pig-nose movie, but it still has some work to do; almost all of his lines are read in a whiney monotone that grated on my nerves a little bit. Still, for a role that largely requires him to shriek and get the shit beaten out of him, McAvoy holds his own, and makes for a comfortable, suitably sweaty action hero by the third act. Jolie, who makes her first appearance around the 15-minute point, is surprisingly very good as the sultry action queen Fox, and it struck me that this is the sort of role she was born to play. She barely speaks (and shows her ass), but she gets across so much with a lot of stares and head tilts; she has a particularly choice moment when Wesley bellows "Leave me alone!" and she just gives him a glance-and-smile that radiates "Aw, isn't that cute." Freeman yet again, boringly, plays wise old mentor man, and mostly just glowers a lot, but I'd be lying if I said there wasn't something irresistible about hearing his God-like dulcet tones say the word "motherfucker."

I don't want to make the claim that the substance level here rivals the style, but beyond the loud inanity, there are actual intriguing ideas. Wesley's questioning of authoritative killing orders ("What'd he do that he deserves to die?") are mined for their eventual thematic heft, and a twist at around the 80-minute mark is actually thought-provoking in its implications. When attempting to ease Wesley's concerns, Fox offers up the concept of "Kill one, maybe save a thousand," and that the film doesn't really explore the complexities of that "maybe" is one of its weaknesses; it'd much rather spend time on minor quirks like Fox listening to "If You Like Pina Coladas..." on the radio post-high-speed-chase, and a bullet flying through the donut of Wesley's fat boss. Since this is a film more about things being shot up really good rather than one about narrative/thematic complexities, I didn't find the simplicity a crippling blow, but time spent on them would've been nice.

Lest I forget, "Wanted" is a comic book adaptation. There is always so much speculation and obsession on the level of 'faithfulness' on film adaptations of, say, "Spider-Man" or "Iron Man," that it's often overlooked in the case of lesser-known works (a massive re-tooling of "I Am Legend" didn't stop it from grossing half a billion dollars). While "Wanted" the film is badass enough in its own right, from the little I know about its source material, I don't know how pleased I'd be if I were a fan of the comic books. Despite author Mark Millar's blessing (I'm sure his big fat check coaxed that blessing out a bit), this doesn't really resemble his original works, aside from some core ideas; while I understand the reasons for that -- it would've made for a much more nihilistic and disturbing film -- something about it doesn't sit right with me. In the comics, Wesley is joining an elite group of super-villainous assassins and numerous innocents are gleefully laid waste too... here, not so much. For those who haven't read them (i.e. most of the people who are going to see this movie), it likely won't matter much, but it's disheartening to know that a much cooler version of this movie had potential to be in store.

Despite (or for some, because of) the missed opportunities, once you settle in and relax, "Wanted" is supremely dumb fun of the highest order. With traces of "The Matrix," "Fight Club," "Speed Racer" and "Shoot 'Em Up" rolled into one deliciously goofy package, it's a high-energy action-filled blast that's practically tailor-made for the summer movie season. Despite its defiance of all sense of reality and logic, it doesn't insult your intelligence; in fact, it does quite the opposite: it assumes you're smart enough to acknowledge and go along with how silly it is. It may be overwhelming in the worst way possible for some, while others will already be salivating for a sequel, but either way, it fills the current quality-action void in our multiplex. Filmed with a rarely-seen glee that showcases all that can be glorious about hardcore violence, "Wanted" is basically the filmic equivalent of Red Bull, and that was just fine with me.

"The Love Guru" -- * 1/2

2008-06-20T00:01:00.000-04:00

I admit that Marco Schnabel's "The Love Guru" was one of 2008's more dreaded big summer movies for me. Despite my appreciation for Mike Myers' talent, the trailer looked horrific, and I entered the screening half-expecting the experience of watching the movie in full to be borderline-torturous. So, perhaps the mere fact that I didn't hate it is some sort of recommendation in itself, but while the movie is unquestionably better/funnier than I expected, it's still quite bad, and disconcertingly, it's tough to pinpoint exactly what went wrong. No, despite advance protests, it's not offensive to Indian people (though if you're gay or a midget, that's another story). The filmmaking on display is no less shoddy or competent than the "Austin Powers" films, so your liking is entirely dependent on whether or not you find the jokes funny. Personally, I found Myers' repeated dependence on his formerly winning formula of scatological jokes and shameless mugging desperate and kind of sad, and for someone who's so clearly gifted, it's almost mind-boggling how many of his jokes fall completely flat. At the end of the day, it's disposable, dumb comedic fare that goes down easy enough and will be forgotten just as easily, but in the realm of stupid movies currently playing at your multiplex, I'd take the Zohan over Guru Pitka in a heartbeat.

The movie is basically a series of sketches scotch-taped together with a guise of a plot, all centering around hugely successful Guru Pitka (Myers), who despite constantly chasing the popularity of Deepak Chopra, has developed a huge following with his pearls of wisdom, acronyms and repeated-mantra, "Mariska Hargitay." When Toronto Maple Leafs player Darren Roanoke (Romany Malco), known as "the Tiger Woods of hockey," is left by his girlfriend Prudence (Meagan Good) for big-dicked fellow player Jacques "Le Coq" Grande (a wildly mugging Justin Timberlake), Pitka is recruited by Maple Leafs owner Jane (Jessica Alba) to use his wisdom to get the couple back together. As he does so, Pitka develops a severe attraction/love for Jane, but cannot act on it due to his chastity belt, befitted for him by his mentor, the severely cross-eyed Guru Tugginmapuddha (a -- detecting a theme here? -- wildly mugging Ben Kingsley). Once Pitka learns to love himself, he can love others, and the chastity belt will be removed... or something like that. Throughout, Chopra's name is mentioned so many times, his cameo near the end is inevitable, though it's interesting to note that both Oprah Winfrey (who's named-checked about a dozen times) and Celine Dion are presences in the film as characters, but both wisely declined to actually appear.

As the movie began, I started thinking maybe I was wrong about my negative preconceived notions. It opens promisingly enough, with a mildly funny gag about a Morgan Freeman voice-over machine and amusingly setting up its story. Then, it immediately made me smile big with an opening credits musical sequence of Pitka singing/playing Dolly Parton's iconic "9 to 5" on the sitar. However, within five minutes, Pitka is sticking his head up his own ass, and we're getting thudding pop culture references to Paris, Britney and Lohan. The movie still has its occasional bright spots after this (there's a cute, brief nod to "Wayne's World"), but they're few and far between. The movie is all but stolen by Stephen Colbert and Jim Gaffigan as non-sequitir spouting Hockey announcers, but even they're familiar stock character that have been used better in many other movies.

What "Love Guru" makes the most evident is that Myers' comedic I.Q. seems to be regressing as he gets older. Go back and watch the "Wayne's World" films; No one would make the argument that they're particularly high-minded, but there are little-to-no gags about farting, boners, or urination/defecation. The "Austin Powers" films took things up a notch with penis jokes a-plenty, diarrhea mustaches, prolonged urinations and non-stop double entendres. With "Love Guru," Myers shows his highest percentage of scatological material yet, with nearly all of its comedic material being made up of jokes about boogers, farting, urine and elephant poop. Everything here is very crude and sexual, and that's fine in theory, it's just that so many of them are especially strained, tired and just plain stupid. A sequence of characters hitting each other in the face with mops soaked in piss seems to go on forever, and the movie never relents with Pitka's self-help acronyms that spell out things like "B-L-O-W-M-E". At one point late in the proceedings, Myers has two elephants fucking in the middle of a hockey arena for reasons that eluded me, but my crowd (who seemingly have never been to the zoo) ate it up. Basically, if you find the concept of something being in the shape of a dick and balls funny, you'll be in comedy heaven here.

But don't worry, lots of other jokes fall flat besides just the pre-adolescent-targeting scatology. The most overt problem that's evident here is Myers giving Pitka the character trait of constantly laughing at his own jokes. It just reeks of desperation to have the character's reaction insist that a joke is funny, and when all else fails, Schnabel cuts to other characters laughing at him. By and large, things are kept as broad and simple as possible (e.g.: people getting hit in the head of hockey pucks), but Myers' attempts at strange running jokes are just misguided; references to a "Quebec Pizza" as a pop tart with ketchup left my audience more bewildered than amused, and the repeated uttering of the 'Mariska Hargitay' mantra just keeps chugging along, never getting any funnier. And for all the pre-opening rumblings about offended Indians, I'm surprised the little people community isn't up in arms; there's more overtly mean mocking of midegts than the "Austin Powers" films put together. In those movies, the jokes were more of the "tee-hee, it's a little version of Dr. Evil" variety; here, it's straight up calling Verne Troyer "gnome" and "Keebler Elf" and making fun of him for being short. Myers also shoehorns in jokes/references that seem to have gone past their expiration date; the movie ends with a Bollywood parody (which have already been done to death), includes a dusty reference to "Punk'd," and features a near-replica of an outsourcing joke from "Zohan."

Myers has stated in numerous interviews that this was a very personal project for him, and I believe it, since he apparently only rarely deems a project worthy of his comedic talents (this is his first live-action appearance in a film in five years). Even if he has the ego to cameo as himself in his own movie, I admire Myers for his creativity, madcap energy and concede to the fact that he has an inspired comedic mind; I also admire him for centering this movie around his longtime love, hockey, despite it being a sport nobody cares about anymore. Whenever I see Myers in a crap movie, it's more sad than anything else because I know he's a talented guy, and even sadder because you can see how much effort and craft went into it; here are lots of original jokes here, I'll give him that, but very few of them are funny. "Love Guru" falls way, way short of the first two "Austin Powers" films and the two "Wayne's World" films -- it even pales in comparison to "So I Married An Axe Murderer" -- but it's certainly no "Cat in the Hat" (still, one of the worst movies I've ever seen) or "Goldmember;" then again, that's hardly a standard for success. At the heart of the movie's failure lies the fact that its title character just isn't a very funny one. I have difficulty imagining even those who laugh at its poop-and-dick jokes clamoring for another Pitka movie.

It's worth noting that almost all the cast here is trying their best, but almost to a person, they're terrible. Timberlake has proven himself adept at dramatic work (e.g.: "Alpha Dog," "Southland Tales," "Black Snake Moan") and comedy (his "SNL" hosting gigs) alike, and he's fearless in making a fool of himself here, but for almost every second he's on screen as Jacques le Coq, he's borderline-embarrassing. His horrific French-Canadian accent may be intentional, but he seems to have taken a cue from Myers with his mugging and exaggerated gyrations; it might be enough for some that he's shirtless in a handful of scenes, but I was mostly shaking my head at any joke he delivered. As Jane, Alba gives one of her better performances, mostly due to the fact that she's not given much dialogue; still, when she's asked to emote or raise her voice, it's a reminder of why she's, by far, the worst actress working today. Though, giving her a run for her money, Jessica Simpson shows up to answer the question 'Can an actress really be cringe-inducingly awful in a ten-second cameo?'

Much has been made of the fact that two broad, high-profile comedies with major stars -- "The Love Guru" and "Get Smart" -- are facing off at the box office this weekend. This is a much more original, inspired work than the formulaic "Get Smart," so I feel a little guilty saying that I liked the latter significantly better. As conventional as it is, "Get Smart" generally succeeds at what it's trying to do, and has more moments where I was chuckling or enjoying myself, while "Love Guru" more often flounders in its desperate scatology. I do have to emphasize that "The Love Guru" is not a particularly painful sit. There have certainly been worse, lazier dumb comedies, and the whole affair goes by fairly quickly (the 80-minute running time helps). I wouldn't begrudge its defenders; 10-to-15-year-old boys, in particular, should adore it. But in a summer already rife with broad comedies to choose from., I'd advise you sit this one out and wait for Myers' next, hopefully better effort.

"Get Smart" -- * * 1/2

2008-06-16T15:26:00.003-04:00

Peter Segal's movie version of the 1965-1970 spy spoof series "Get Smart" is neither a particularly strong representation of what's beloved about the show, nor a joyless cash-grab that coasts on its name-brand familiarity (e.g.: "Bewitched"). Rather, it's a slick, broad, fun enough time at the movies that I'm right on the verge of recommending, but not quite all the way there. As a sizable fan of both Steve Carell and the original television series, I enjoyed the movie overall, but found it hard to ignore just how hit-and-miss and formulaic it was. An apparent love for its source material by the filmmaker, a perfectly cast Carell in the titular role, a fast-moving narrative, and about a 55% joke success rate, adds up to a generally satisfying summer comedy that isn't likely to knock anyone's socks off nor seriously underwhelm. Those pleased with the film adaptations of "Starsky and Hutch" and "Miami Vice," and underwhelmed by, say, "I Spy" and "Bewitched," should find this a fairly happy medium, as long as expectations are kept subsided.

For a spy movie, even a tremendously goofy one, the plot here is surprisingly sparse. Obviously, the proceedings center around Maxwell Smart (Carell), an eager information analyst working for U.S. spy agency C.O.N.T.R.OL. Smart, who has both "Russian Chatter" and ABBA's "Take a Chance" on his iPod, longs to be an agent out in the field, and looks up to the heroic Agent 23 (Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson). After he aces his agent exams and C.O.N.T.R.O.L.'s enemy agency, K.A.O.S., kills off almost every C.O.N.T.R.O.L. agent, The Chief (Alan Arkin) finally grants Max a promotion. Max is paired with Agent 99 (Anne Hathaway), a sleek, hyper-efficient agent who has recently undergone major plastic surgery to make her look like Anne Hathaway. Together, the two must locate K.A.O.S.'s leader, Siegfriend (Terence Stamp), and take him down. Many set-pieces that only tangentially have to do with the plot ensure, and it all culminates in a race-to-the-bomb-equipped-location climax set to "Ode to Joy."

Like the show it's based on, the film's tone is consistently goofy. Even in the action moments that work, there's no real sense of danger, and we're never asked to take anything seriously. Thankfully, the movie throws enough at us that, even with all the pitfalls, I was laughing or smiling an awful lot (and usually at Carell). The chief set-piece that really works (and the filmmakers clearly know it, judging by their desperate closing of the film with repeating it) is one of Max retreating to the lavatory aboard a mid-flight airplane, and attempting to escape from his shackles. His continual incompetence is as stupid as it is hilarious, and the essence of what the character should be. Some of the briefer, sillier moments that resemble the show's sense of humor (a bit involving the "cone of silence") are among the movie's strongest, as well as throwaway lines/jokes like one Arkin tosses off about existentialism, and Max's referring to Ryan Seacrest as "American's Sweetheart." The physical stuff really works, like the phone-throwing gag from the trailer, and the movie deserves commendation for amazingly making me laugh at its one reliance on gross-out humor (a truly disgusting puke joke), which I generally abhor.

The jokes that do miss thankfully aren't of the groan-worthy, thudding variety, but just of the staring-at-the-screen-acknowledgement-that-that-joke-didn't-work sort. It's noticeable that the ones that particularly flounder are the big, scripted set-pieces; a bit where Max is mistaken for shoe-bomber on board an airplane falls flat (as well as brings to mind the most recent "Harold and Kumar" film), as well as sequence where Max dances with a morbidly obese woman -- while "size 6" Hathaway steams -- at a banquet. Still, in each of these, Carell manages to shine through, making the best out of any material he's given. Other stuff of the broader variety, such as a head-shaking bit involving a squealing, cartoonish pig, that don't feature Carell, aren't as successful. Then there's other stuff where you may chuckle at, but not feel good about it almost immediately after (a scene where Ken Davitian is on the receiving end of simulated anal sex again after "Borat" comes to mind).

It was fairly evident from the moment his casting was announced that Carell was perfect for this role, and sure enough, he's aces in it. Taking his bumbling incompetence (and just a pinch of awkwardness) from "The Office's" Michael Scott, Carell manages to play off his well-known persona without quite playing "Steve Carell" again and making Maxwell Smart a unique character. Max isn't imbued with depth -- no one here is -- but Carell plays him brilliantly, bringing to mind the perfect matching of actor-and-character of Robert Downey, Jr. as Tony Stark. Anyone who's been paying attention to the film world in the last few years realizes that Carell is a fantastic comic who can make iffy jokes work and turns horrifically awful movies into merely bad ones (e. g. "Evan Almighty"). I laughed a lot here at just-okay lines because of him, and I don't know if many other actors could actually make puke jokes or fat-suit gags (Max is given a formerly-fat backstory) funny to me. Still, the movie gives him a wealth of broad material for him to run with, and he never for a second seems like he's slumming or pushing to try to make lazy material work. Aside from being effortlessly hilarious, Carell has a warmth and likability to him that just makes you smile, and works to great advantage in making Max appear like an actual person, not just a caricature. From his warnings in research presentations, "the next 100 pages can get a little bit dry," to his playful banter with Hathaway, he's the perfect fit for Maxwell Smart and he goes a long way towards making the movie work.

Hathaway is sexier here than she's ever been in a movie before, but unfortunately, no less boring. She's not overtly bad -- she never is -- but I'm still waiting for a movie where she exudes any sort of charm or charisma and doesn't just reek of blandness. Johnson's actually in the film very little; he appears in just a handful of scenes, and doesn't get much to do, but he handles the material pretty well (particularly his supercool, cocky, slo-mo entrance which culminates with him walking into a wall). Arkin seems to be having fun here, and has noticeable chemistry with Carell, even if the role doesn't ask much of him; still, it's hard not to smile hearing the actor utter "I've been waiting for this since Nixon!" as he tackles the Vice President. Stamp clearly hasn't enjoyed himself on screen in a few decades, but even so, he still manages to get laughs with his monotone delivery as Siegfried. James Caan turns up in a few funny scenes as a Bush-clone President who pronounces nuclear "nucular" and is seen reading "Goodnight Moon to a class of elementary schoolers; it was done better by Quaid in "American Dreamz," but Bush is an easy enough target to make fun of, that Caan still made me chuckle. The two "comedy teams" on the sidelines don't fare so well; "Heroes"'s Masi Oka and Nate Torrence (resembling a fatter Nick Swardson) are more annoying than funny, while David Koechner and Terry Crews are brilliantly paired together as a team, and then get very little to do

Despite having Mel Brooks and Buck Henry on board as consultants, it's tough to say exactly what diehard fans of the TV show will think of the movie. They may not be pleased with some of the dumber jokes and action scenes, but I found enough here in the spirit of the show, as well as knowing references, to be satisfied on that front. The opening credits, where we see Max marching through the never-ending series of metal security gates on way to phone booth as the familiar theme music plays, is pretty much perfect, and starts the movie off right. Though we have to wait till the 84-minute mark to see any reference of the famous shoe-phone, such touches as Agent 13's brief appearance inside a tree (a good cameo by a comedic genius) and Max's using Noodnik Shpilkis as an alias as one point, should generate enough goodwill among purists. My only real issue with movie/show incongruity is that Max is maybe just a bit more competent than he really should be. The show's Maxwell Smart had a Clouseau-like ineptness that made his inadvertent success all the more hilarious. Here, Max is generally depicted as a clumsy-but-efficient agent who uses unconventional methods to get the job done; his escape from a jail cell late in the proceedings is amusingly ridiculous, but downright jarring in its competence.

"Get Smart" is perpetually very broad and very silly, and for what it's trying to do, it basically works; I'd give it a favorable/fresh rating, but by a hair. In the summer movie season, known for soulless money-makers, the movie doesn't bring anything drastically new or different to the table, but it offers enough mid-range laughs to at least merit a matinee showing at your multiplex. My crowd seemed to eat it up (there was hearty laughter throughout and applause at the end), and while it probably won't be huge, I think it will hit with audiences, if not critics. Okay, so the film isn't particularly witty, and doesn't cleverly take "Get Smart" into the year 2008 (political subtext is virtually nil), but it's always entertaining -- even when it's not working -- and I have difficulty imagining even the most negative of Nancys emerging from the theater angry they watched it.

"Get Smart" opens in theaters nationwide this Friday, June 20th.

"The Happening" -- *

2008-06-13T00:01:00.001-04:00

In the last couple of years, there seems to have been an almost sadistic desire by the media and movie aficionados to see M. Night Shyamalan fail as a filmmaker and a certain malicious glee exuded when he has. I guess it's understandable, considering his very public ego and steady self-proclamations of brilliance, but I've never been one of those people; I've always rooted for this guy to succeed. Whether he's cracked in the head, or misguided at best, I'm all for anyone with an extremely creative, ambitious and unique voice to continue making movies, if only to give us respite from the processed, assembly-line output that makes up much of what we see filling our multiplexes. I may not always be pleased with what he gives us, but I've always been glad he's out there, been a cheerleader of sorts, and an occasional defender (more on that later). So while I take no particular glee in reporting that "The Happening" is easily the worst movie Shyamalan has made so far, it is unquestionably that. I will say, however, to paraphrase Roger Ebert, that it takes true talent to make a film this extraordinarily bad. Skin-crawlingly preachy, seat-tappingly tedious, and filled with such appallingly awful acting and half-thought-out ideas, it's a giant waste of time for everyone, no one more so than Shyamalan.

Opening with an ominous credits sequence of fast-encroaching clouds laid over a font and score clearly emulating (like the movie itself) Shyamalan's own "Signs," the movie starts off with the shit immediately hitting the fan. It's 8:33 a.m. in New York's Central Park, and suddenly, dozens of casual park-goers become immobile, freezing in place, before promptly mutilating themselves and/or committing suicide. Just as our appetite's being whet, we cut to Philadelphia high school biology teacher Elliot Moore (Mark Wahlberg).... let me repeat that: high school biology teacher Mark Wahlberg. Yeah. Anyway, mid-class, Elliot hears of the events in the park -- and numerous other parks -- and he, along with everyone else, assumes the cause is bio-terrorism; all people know is that whatever's causing people to do this to themselves is airborne, and it's happening in random spots in the Northeast. Ever-responsive, Elliot and his wife Alma (Zooey Deschanel), whose marriage has been on the rocks lately, hit the road, along with fellow math teacher Julian (John Leguizamo) and his 8-year-old daughter Jess (Ashlyn Sanchez), to try to escape or out-run this airborne virus. When their train breaks down in Filbert, PA, Julian leaves Jess with the trouble couple, as he tries to go search for his still-in-the-city wife. As Elliot, Alma (who keeps getting cell phone calls from a 'Joey') and Jess make their way across Pennsylvania, they intermittently run into other refugees and join forces, but keep finding dead bodies in their paths, indicating this dangerous wind is coming in their direction. We find out very early on what's causing this to happen, and while I'll let you discover it for yourself, I will say that Shyamalan's screenplay was originally titled "The Green Effect."

In my ever-optimistic nature, I'll start with what's good here. James Newton Howard's score, while extremely reminiscent of "Signs," is very effective throughout, and often does a nice job establishing atmosphere when the movie itself can't. Also the opening ten minutes, largely spoiled by the ads, are gangbusters. With people suddenly, and without expression, offing themselves in exceedingly creative ways, Shyamalan throws a plethora of unsettling imagery at us, and staged in a clever, chilling manner (a sequence of an assembly line of folks shooting themselves in the head stops just short of going from scary to silly). It's an opening the film can't come close to living up to, nor does it try to; this opening is the hook the movie's being sold on, but there's not much of it there. The film, while frequently meandering and dreary, isn't particularly boring, so I guess that's a plus -- the promise of something horrific happening hangs in the air, and adds an air of menace to everything even when we're rolling our eyes or staring in disbelief. And lastly, even while ripping off elements from "The Signal," "War of the Worlds," "The Mist" and "The Birds," at the movie's core lies a fantastic idea. Again, I'll try to avoid flatly giving away who/what's causing all this mayhem, but once it's revealed, I knew exactly what Shyamalan was trying to do, and I actually got excited. This premise, if done right, has potential to be fucking terrifying. Almost inexplicably, Shyamalan takes it and uses it to its most base, lame, B-movie mechanics, and repeatedly torpedoes the movie's potential. There's a germ of a terrific idea here, and I hope someone else steals it and runs with it, exploiting it for its real possibilities/implications.

Shyamalan's noble, stump issue this time around is environmentalism and harsh, deserved criticism for the way we're treating our planet. But rather than do this with any degree of subtlety, substance or insight, the misunderstood-genius filmmaker goes on frequent bouts of moralizing, and the screenplay is rife with high school senior-level metaphor. There are numerous characters that purely, and obviously, exist as symbols/metaphor. First we get a student of Elliot's who doesn't care about global warming because it doesn't effect him. Then later on, we get a character who literally says "The world don't care about me, and I don't care about it!" Hmm, wonder if that character will symbolically meet their doom? For the slightly-less-brain-dead audience members, there's a ham-handed image here of a nuclear power plant right behind a greenhouse, and in a touch that made me particularly cringe, our main group of environment-fleers running past a real estate sign that proclaims "You Deserve This!"

I will try my best to avoid hyperbole, but the performances here by our leads are, frankly, astonishing. Displaying acting that seems straight out of children's theatre acting with big, emphatic, mannered delivery, Deschanel and especially Wahlberg are so dramatically awful that I can't imagine they'll provoke anything but consistent chuckles. I never knew either actor was capable of being this bad, and I'm half-tempted to recommend the movie just to see their work on the big screen. Whether it's a result of an acting choice or a directorial instruction, Wahlberg gives literally one of the worst performances I've ever seen in a movie. Think I'm exaggerating? Go see the movie. Tell me I'm wrong. From his first line of dialogue, my jaw dropped and my eyes bugged out of my head, and amazingly enough, Wahlberg keeps at it the whole film. With his inexplicably sincere, naive, wide-eyed delivery of every single line of dialogue, Elliot never speaks in a way I've ever heard a human being speak. His inflection goes up at the end of every sentence, as if every statement is somewhere between him being confused and asking a question. When a scene comes along for him to talk down to Jess, there's virtually no difference, as that's how he's sounded the whole time. A friend of mine compared his acting style here to Dirk Digger's, and I can see the comparison, though I'd argue the latter was better. Deschanel is pretty awful and mannered herself, but she's not helped by dialogue that forces her to speak her feelings out loud (e.g.: "I am upset!" "I'm scared."). She seems to have been cast for her big, expressive eyes, and she uses them to great effect, since she doesn't appear to have been given much instruction on what to do with her character. What confuses me is that these are not bad actors; Deschanel is outright good, and Wahlberg has been excellent at least twice ("Three Kings," "I Heart Huckabees"). I can only believe they were following specific orders and adhering to some sort of directorial vision Shyamalan had, because these aren't just lazy, generic performances; they're astounding in their overt suck.

But acting aside, what chiefly contributes to "The Happening's" failure is Shyamalan's least focused and least assured screenplay yet. The dialogue all grasps at significance but each cluster barely relates to the next; starting with Wahlberg's classroom lecture about the disappearance of the bees, it seems like Shyamalan scribbled down all the ideas flying through his genius head and made a character talk about it at some point during the movie. Merged with the storytelling conventions and metaphor/speechifying, it all almost plays like a parody of Shyamalan movie. Again, like "Signs," there's a troubled relationship repaired by a catastrophic event. Again, there's forced moments of levity that completely fall flat. Again, characters are giving little charming quirks that are meant to add resonance but just make you wonder where Shyamalan came up with this shit (e.g.: Elliot wears a prominently featured mood ring). But aside from flat-out not making sense at times (if the toxins are in the wind, where the hell is every continually running off to?), the movie's premise and overall threat undercuts potential scariness. The fact that victims only commit suicide and not homicide, if unsettling, sort of saps the whole affair of tension. We know Wahlberg and Deschanel are the leads and will make it, at least most of the way through, without offing themselves; And it's not really a terrifying prospect that the new minor characters they meet every few minutes might be affected by the signal, er, I mean, the happening.

It's also remarkable just how much noticeably unnecessary dialogue there is here. During a mass suicide scene, an observer says "Those people look like they're clawing at themselves." Um, kay. How bout show us? During a phone conversation with a harried daughter, a mother, while on the phone, says as an aside to the crowd around her, "She's so scared!" But the most egregious examples are Shyamalan's favorite indulgence: unnecessary exposition. Elliot and Alma run into a gardener along their way; I don't remember his name, but I just referred to him as "Exposition Man," since, aside from rambling incoherently about hot dogs, all he exists to do is to explain to everyone what plans are physiologically capable of doing and why everything in this movie is happening. As the icing on the cake, near the movie's end, a television pundit thoroughly and explicitly explains everything we've just seen to alleviate any sense of mystery or ambiguity. Bravo, M. Night.

Much has been made of "The Happening's" R-rating, and sorry to break it to those who had anticipated it as the film's raison d'atre, it's completely unnecessary. Every particularly bloody/gory moment could've cut away one second earlier, with little-to-no effect lost, and the movie would have been PG-13. There's extremely little, if anything, in this movie that's particularly shocking, and the rating to have been tossed in -- or mandated -- by the studio, strictly as a marketing ploy (and boy have they been marketing it) than as an artistic necessity. Oh, and that "fucked up shit" you came to see? Since it's almost entirely in the first 10 minutes, almost all of it's been shown, or at least glimpsed, in the trailers, and the minimal stuff that occurs after the opening sequence (a man being torn apart by lions at the zoo, a "Maximum Overdrive"-inspired suicide where a man lets a large lawn-mower run over him) is more stupid than scary. Shymalan even resorts to the infamous 'jump scare,' which he usually avoids, and the two instances he utilizes them are amongst the movie's shittiest.

It seems everyone has varying degrees of thought on Shyamalan's ouvre, with unanimous proclamation of "The Sixth Sense" as the best, and I'm more forgiving than most, it seems. I think "The Sixth Sense" is fantastic, "Unbreakable" is a bit of misunderstood brilliance, and "Signs," despite a silly ending, is incredibly well-made, emotionally resonant and extremely scary no matter how many times I watch it (and actually justifies its pro-Christian bent). "The Village" and "Lady in the Water" are where most agree the director went off the rails, and that's where it gets a bit murkier for me. I think "The Village" is a mess, with some awful performances (*cough* William Hurt *cough*), pacing issues, misguided twists, and a disappointing narrative, but it also has an excellent leading performance from Bryce Dallas Howard, and some interesting ideas that could have been something were something made of them. I don't quite understand its defenders, but there certainly are some positives there. "Lady in the Water" is obviously extremely silly, but I think if it were taken at face value for what it was -- a garish fairy tale -- audiences would've been more perceptive; personally, I think the movie kinda sorta works, if boasting some major issues. And, in my opinion, if it wasn't in the middle of such a silly/stupid/wacky movie, Giamatti's performance was of the sort that usually merits awards consideration. In terms of connections to his past films, "The Happening" attempts to take the "Signs" structure that the world loved (forced, constructed familial conflict rectified over the course of horrible world events) and fuse it with his metaphor-laden message and proselytizing that everyone hated when he did it in "The Village." Thankfully, like "Signs" and "Lady in the Water," there is no twist here, but you may wish there was, just so the proceedings would actually be leading to something rather than the filmmaker creatively throwing his hands in the air.

"The Happening" is ultimately too ambitious/interesting to dismiss outright, but that doesn't mean it's anything resembling being worth seeing. Upon leaving the theater, no one I spoke to could muster up something kind to say about the movie, and I was sure it would inspire unanimous vitriol, but there are a handful of positives on Rotten Tomatoes, and frankly, I don't get it. I can't imagine what about this movie someone might find redeeming; it's so misguided and inert every step of the way, past the opening ten minutes, I was mostly just shaking my head feeling bad for Shyamalan. I'd be lying if I said this wasn't worse-seeming as a movie due to his promise as a filmmaker; it's much more disappointing/sad to watch knowing it's probably a somewhat talented filmmaker's nail in the coffin (he was very smart to sign on for "Airbender" before Fox squeezes this one out into theaters). The film is often literally laughable (after an off-screen gunshot, Wahlberg utters a half-hearted "Oh, no."), but I couldn't bring myself to laugh. I was too upset. While, personally, I may like "Lady" and not outright hate "Village," I know that audiences generally disagreed, and people just will not stand for being burned three times in a row. This may be the last original work by Shyamalan we'll ever see, at least one backed by a substantial budget; even if he somehow bounces back quality-wise, audiences just won't go. At the end of the day, the man has got a keen directorial eye, and the best thing he could do at this point is direct someone else's screenplay. But if I had to guess, I'd say his ego and defense of his own brilliance will never allow that to happen; taking that into consideration, it's unavoidable to acknowledge what "The Happening" likely represents: his goodbye to prominent filmmaking.

"The Incredible Hulk" -- * * *

2008-06-13T00:00:00.001-04:00

After Ang Lee's misunderstood, but generally despised, "Hulk" opened in June of 2003, there was a kind of backlash/ire from audience and critics (though more from audience) towards what they were given, that it seemed this character with extreme amounts of crowd-pleasing potential had been forced into early retirement. Ever since director Louis Leterrier and writer/star Edward Norton's reboot of sorts, "The Incredible Hulk," was announced, it's stuck out as one of the summer movie season's big question marks. Many wondered if it would just be another missed opportunity, and the Hulk would be given two shots now and both end up sucking; the underwhelming trailers didn't help matters. Personally, I was more concerned that given the recoiling by audiences from Lee's character-driven, intelligent approach, that this would swing the pendulum too far in the other direction and resort to non-stop brainless action. Well, while Leterrier's loud, fast film is very clearly an intentional reaction to Lee's quiet, slow one, it does end up justifying its existence and carving out an identity as a well-crafted, entertaining B-movie that doesn't insult your intelligence nor reek of joylessness. I'd still like to see Norton's supposedly significantly longer cut, but this is neither too brainy nor too stupid, goes for a slow build (which I always like) and should satisfy audiences much in the way "Iron Man" has been. If nothing else, it's an opportunity for this character to be featured in the kind of movie crowds want to see him in.

Smartly using its opening credits sequence to give back story to those who were confused about the film's re-boot-ing, kind-of-a-sequel, kind-of-not nature (as well as quickly name-dropping 'Stark Industries' and 'Nick Fury'), we're shown physicist Bruce Banner (Edward Norton) working in a Brazilian bottling plant, hiding out from the people who know him. Still struggling to find a cure from the botched gamma radiation experiment that turns him into a huge green monster whenever his blood pressure hits 200, Banner's hiding specifically from General Thaddeus Ross (William Hurt), while missing his love, Ross's daughter Betty (Liv Tyler) and e-mailing scientist "Mr. Blue," a cellular biologist who might help him find a cure. General Ross, along with his top soldier, Emil Blonsky (Tim Roth), are determined to find Banner in the hopes of capturing him and using his "curse" / mutated genes as a weapon to enable soldiers with Hulk-like capabilities. When Banner returns to the states to see Betty, his cover blown, and Ross and Blonsky's efforts see no results, Blonsky willingly has similar genetic mutations injected into him to level the playing field, so to speak. Much property destruction ensues.

Whether I like it or not, the studio was smart to action up the proceedings this time around, as that's what audiences want to see, but Leterrier avoids making this an orgiastic, overly Hulk-y affair, at least not at first. The first chase/Hulk scene at the 22-minute mark almost entirely avoids showing the creature and manages to be more effective and exciting for it. Not only does it give us Blonsky's point-of-view and add a sense of mystery and suspense to the sequence, it also makes the green guy's ultimate in-full appearance a cool moment, better for being built up to (I almost wish the trailers avoided showing the Hulk at all). It's also worth noting the restraint in this being pretty much the Hulk's only appearance in the first half of the film. Leterrier's avoids the frenetic direction that reared its head in his 'Transporter 2' and makes this a superhero movie that shouldn't make anyone dizzy or bombarded. While there is action aplenty, it's still a fairly story-centric affair and is paced not too slow and not too quick. Whenever Bruce turns into the Hulk, the results are unquestionably entertaining, and builds to an ending action sequence that should rouse most audience members (including this one). The final big Hulk vs. Abominaton set-piece that makes up the last 10-15 minutes is perhaps a bit video-gamey, but it's extremely fun/entertaining, and I definitely preferred it to "Iron Man's" robot-on-robot finale. And kudos to whoever came up with the idea for it to take place on Harlem's 125th Street, with the Apollo visible in the background.

This may be a more pared-down, mainstream-accessible Hulk movie, but that doesn't mean it resorts to laziness or settling for bland formula. There are numerous inspired touches, with effort made to not make this feel exactly like every other superhero movie. Throughout the movie, there's a repeated 'Days Without an Incident' Counter at the bottom at the screen that's used to particularly clever effect, and the moments of levity when they come don't feel shoehorned in and usually work. Banner's purchasing of stretchy pants finally acknowledges fan's complaints about the Hulk's bottoms never ripping, while a comic moment of Bruce stopping sex with Betty because his heart rate might get too high simultaneously addresses an actual potential issue on the character's part. Other jokes, however, such as Banner not quite having mastered Portugese yet and delivering the subtitled threat, "You wouldn't like me when I'm hungry," are just funny. One also has to throw Zak Penn's screenplay some props for (a) being the first Marvel movie with a Stan Lee cameo that isn't entirely gratuitous/superfluous, and (b) using "Hulk Smash" in as minimally cheesy a manner as possible.

Even though the movie's equipped with an A-level cast, nobody really does aces work here, but Roth's the one that seems to be having the most fun, and thus, the most fun one to watch. Throwing a suitable level of callousness and sick joy into a guy who'll casually shoot an annoyingly barking dog with a tranquilizer dart, while displaying Kung Fu-like acrobatics, he's always the most interesting person on screen and has a particularly nice scene right before he becomes Abomination. A big deal has been made of an actor of his caliber taking this kind of role and 'class-ing' up the proceedings, but he doesn't bring much to the table besides street cred (and his appropriately pussy-ish voice), making it apparent Banner really could've been played just as effectively by anyone. I honestly can't quite explain why I like Liv Tyler in almost everything she's in but I do. She never shows particular range, but she always radiates sweetness, sincerity, and manages to look pretty in everything. I know some are put off by her breathy voice, but there's something about her I just like and can't put my finger on. Deal with it. As for Hurt, he's fine, but in my opinion, Sam Elliott was perfect casting for this gruff, overprotective general, and can't be topped in my eyes; throughout the movie, I kept flashing back to his performance and that didn't do wonders for my take on Hurt's work.

I've heard complaints about the effects work on the Hulk, but there's just no way to do this besides an all-CGI Hulk, and an all-CGI Hulk is never going to be photo-realistic, so it's best to just deal with it. I never had a "my god, that's fake-looking!" sentiment in my head during the movie, and for what it's worth, I think the effects are as real-looking as they're capable of being. If you just go with it, it shouldn't effect you. Thankfully however, Abomination doesn't look nearly as crappy as the trailers indicated. On the other end of the technical spectrum, Craig Armstrong's score is mostly generic and serviceable, but during the Hulk's second furious outrage, and during the climactic showdown, there are brief, subtle strains of organs recalling early 20th century horror movies that only the most attentive viewers will notice, but made me smile nonetheless.

*SPOILER ABOUT A SCENE ALREADY SPOILED IN EVERY TV SPOT AHEAD*

Anybody who considers themselves a comic book fan, or even regularly browses certain websites, knows at this point that Robert Downey, Jr., as "Iron Man's" Tony Stark, makes a cameo here. I have no problem with this -- in fact, I think it's handled rather well, and it's kind of a brilliant idea, especially when viewed in the context of what Marvel is building these films to be. My two-fold issue is with what's been done with the scene. Firstly, it was very, very clearly intended to go after the credits (much like Sam Jackson's "Iron Man" Nick Fury cameo). The movie has a natural, very good ending, the screen goes black, the audience begins to applaud, it's clear credits were initially going to be cut to. But then we get one more scene where Stark shows up and talks to General Ross. It's a good scene, but it was obviously moved to before the credits after the massive success of "Iron Man," and it breaks the narrative flow of the movie. And, it also strikes me as a bit too inside baseball for those who (a) didn't see "Iron Man," or (b) aren't familiar with the "Avengers" direction these Marvel films will be taking down the line. It would've been a nice, dare I say 'awesome,' fan-tailored bonus after the credits, but where it is now, it's crowd-pleasing, but kind of awkward. It's a minor complaint, but it bothered me, and it's the one aspect of the movie that really stuck out for me as a 'problem.' Secondly, knowing that people loved "Iron Man," and Downey as Stark, Universal has spoiled this scene in virtually every TV spot airing lately. I know ads have a tendency to be spoiler-y or misleading, but it's the fucking last scene of the movie. Show some class, for Christ's sake, and don't ruin everything for us.

*SPOILER ABOUT A SCENE ALREADY SPOILED IN EVERY TV SPOT OVER*

While I dug it myself, I get that Lee's "Hulk" was too cerebral and slow for what a superhero film is supposed to be, and Leterrier's "Incredible Hulk" is much more conventionally entertaining/satisfying (not to mention a good half hour shorter). To its benefit, Banner's character is in a more interesting place this time around -- knowing what he is and trying to control it -- and we get to see him taking on a relative equal, not just smashing up shit. That said, there's virtually none of that film's visual inventiveness and propensity for experimentation here, but I admit I'm biased; this is a much less strange interpretation so I'm naturally inclined to like it less. The film still takes itself fairly seriously this time around, but the emphasis is more on plot-propelling action than introspection, and there's not necessarily anything wrong with that. Paying proper homage to its source material with a nice moment where Norton tells Lou Ferrigno (cameo-ing as a security guard) "You are the man," while not swinging too far over into "big dumb action" territory, "The Incredible Hulk" is conventional yes, but it's also admittedly satisfying. Those who weren't pleased with what Ang Lee tried to do should dig this, and as someone who was pleased, I enjoyed this as well.

"You Don't Mess With the Zohan" -- * * *

2008-06-06T00:01:00.003-04:00

*sigh* I fear I'm probably going to be alone on this one. If you've seen the trailer for Adam Sandler's latest, "You Don't Mess With the Zohan," directed by Dennis Dugan, you already knew that it was going to be stupid. Well, the movie itself is very stupid, even moreso than you might be expecting. But it's also imbued with such a high absurdity level, and strange, inspired asides and throwaway gags, that while I may not be proud, I also laughed a whole hell of a lot. We've grown to have a certain level of expectation from Sandler's movies, whether that's a good or bad thing for you, and we usually know exactly what we're getting; here, he goes a different route than we're used to seeing from him, and while this may not be saying much for some people, I think this is easily one of Sandler's better/funnier efforts. There's a consistent "Anchorman"-esque undercurrent of ridiculousness (if nowhere near that film's brilliant, inspired level), but I'd say "Zohan" is more in the vein of something like the first two "Austin Powers" films, with a balanced emphasis on the scatological and the absurd.

Having spent his first forty years as an invincible Israeli commando/superhero, Zohan Dviri (Sandler) has finally tired of all the incessant fighting in his native holy land, and wants to finally move to America and pursue his dream. That dream? Becoming a well-regarded hair stylist in New York City. With the help of his pelican friend, Zohan (a.k.a.: "The Zohan") fakes his death at the hands of comparably invincible Arab fighter, The Phantom (John Turturro). Smuggling himself aboard a NY-bound plane hiding inside a dog kennel, Zohan adopts his canine co-passengers' names and arrives in the U.S. introducing himself as Scrappy Coco, from Australia. While looking for work, he talks owner Dalia (Emmanuelle Chriqui) into letting him style women’s hair at her salon, all while staying with newfound friend Michael (Nick Swardson) and his horny mom (Lainie Kazan). With his tremendous styling skills, combined with his post-styling sexual intercouse, Zohan soon becomes NYC's most popular hair stylist with the senior citizen set. However, soon, his secret identity is revealed by Palestinian cabdriver Salim (Rob Schneider), who wants revenge on Zohan for unexplained reasons, and attempts to get in touch with the Phantom, to let him know his assassination victim is still alive.

It's established very early on that "Zohan" is not supposed to be taking place in any sort of realistic or real world, even for a Sandler flick; Those thrown by the anatomical-defying feet/leg gag from the trailer (very, very funny incidentally) should run for the hills now. Zohan swims fast enough to catch up with a motorboat, unscrews screws with his tongue, and does pushups with just his toes, while the Phantom runs on ceilings while doing acrobatics. Starting with an "I feel no pain"-off with the two soldiers/assassins one-upping each other with their threshold for agony, and culminating in a destruction-by-high-decibel-singing gag stolen from "Mars Attacks!," it's safe to say this is the craziest movie to ever have a rumored budget of 90 million dollars. Things are kept absurdist all the way through, and you're going to require a tolerance for the ridiculous to even approach this, let alone enjoy it. While some jokes of this variety (Zohan singlehandedly defeating two musclemen and a bull in a beach tug-of-war match) work better than others (a flashback of Zohan's hand being severed and then untying him) , this sort of humor tends to be up my alley, so I dug on most of it.

Sandler and his friends (Schneider, Dugan) are not necessarily the most comedically-astute or skilled filmmakers in the world, and virtually every one of their movies contains some tired, pre-teen baiting jokes relating to scatology and anatomy, and sigh-inducing ones you're surprised really remained in through the test screening process. Here, we get a Zohan ass shot in the first two minutes (though the paunchy Sandler is clearly using a butt double), followed by a joke about Zohan catching a fish -- and a hackey sack -- in his butt cheeks that may seem to confirm the fears of those in the audience worried about another Sandler movie (I myself thought I was a goner at this point). So while you must be prepared for a fairly lopsided hit-and-miss ratio of joke success, personally, I laughed at about two for every one I didn't. Even recurring jokes that seem to start off tired with the potential of getting annoying the more they're repeated, only get better by the stakes being upped as the movie goes on; everything silly is taken to absurdly silly levels that infuse them with inspiration. Even running jokes about Zohan's hackey sack skills and propensity for hummus had won me over by the times he (a) hackey sacks using a live cat, and (b) brushes his teeth with hummus, and puts out a fire with it. Even his skill of twisting people into pretzels grows increasingly, and enjoyably, ridiculous the more it's employed.

Through each step of Zohan's journey, I found the humor surprisingly well-paced/crafted, as it was rare a few minutes would go by without me laughing. Before his hair-cutting dream is fulfilled, his mom's throwaway recommendation to "Stay in the Army, play it safe" and him weeping "I just want to make people silky smooth!" curled up in bed are funny enough to establish that this movie's going to have a fairly oddball comedic voice, and that's only continued with Zohan's refusal to admit that he's Middle Eastern (he says he's from "Chaustralia"). Though glimpsed already in the trailers, Zohan's auditions at a black hair salon, and a kids' haircut place ("Whipper Snippers") both offer very funny inappropriate utilization of his Mossad skills, including a too-explicit description of the effects on a jugular slash to a 5-year-old. The revelation that Salim's impetus for revenge-seeking is Zohan taking his goat, and Zohan's insistence of punishing himself by stabbing himself with scissors are similarly taste-acquired gags that will work for some better than others. I also laughed at the handling of one of our racist redneck villains (Dave Matthews), who repeatedly talks about how Mel Gibson is the only guy who knows what he's talking about, and a gag that lists his likes as "The Lethal Weapon 1, 2, 3, What Women Want" and dislikes as "The Whole Foods, The George Clooney."

A subtle tip-off to the change of pace in store for Sandler fans is the shift in music; though his past movies seem to revel in '80s styles/themes/music, "Zohan" employs a cheesy '90s soundtrack, including Ace of Base's "Beautiful Life" and Technotronic's "Pump Up the Jam," to great effect. Whether you like it or not, this isn't the sort of middle-of-the-road, likeable-enough, barely-trying "LCD crowd pleaser" he's been prone to put out; this is a far stranger beast, and I don't know if all of his diehard pack of fans are going to make the jump with him. I enjoy "Mr. Deeds," "Big Daddy," "Click," etc. for what they are, but here Sandler is going balls-out and going back to playing an original character and not the lazy Sandler-esque shlump those movies offered, and a more refreshing out-there sensibility too. If comparable to any of his past works, it feels more similar to the early Sandler films like "Happy Gilmore" and "The Waterboy," with some "Little Nicky" thrown in; If that sounds more like a discouragement than a recommendation, "Zohan" probably ain't for you.

The supporting cast here does just fine, with the normally bleh Chriqui being adequately charming and grappling surprisingly well with her accent. Schneider and Swardson are, almost amazingly, the least annoying they've been in a Sandler movie (though when is Schneider finally going to be shot by some extremist for all his racist, offensive caricatures?). There are cameos that range from lame (Henry Winkler, Kevin James) to worthless (Kevin Nealon, Mariah Carey) to inspired (Chris Rock, Dave Matthews, John McEnroe). But, as slumming as he might be -- as he's wont to do in Sandler and Michael Bay movies -- the actor who seems to be having the most fun, and thus, the most fun to watch, is Turturro. As The Phantom, a celebrity terrorist/freedom fighter, who's defined by his hatred for Israel but has a more complex/softer side, he made me laugh whenever he was on screen, even making a tired MySpace joke tolerable with his delivery. It helps that he has the movie's funniest scene -- a hilarious "Rocky"-style training sequence where he punches a live slab of beef -- but while he goes missing for the movie's middle chunk, thankfully he returns at around the 80-minute mark for the third act.

Free of Sandler's hack-for-hire Tim Herlihy, "Zohan" benefits from the comedian's screenwriting collaboration with legitimate comic genius Robert Smigel and wonderful-if-overexposed Judd Apatow, on a script that supposedly has been sitting on a shelf for years. While Smigel's ridiculous, raunchy voice is everpresent, you can also tell much of this comes from Apatow's pen, though not the one you might be used to; rather than the wise-if-filthy comic sexual observations of his later works, this is most definitely more the Apatow who worked on the brilliant "Ben Stiller Show" than anything else. That said, I'm surprised this movie escaped with PG-13. While low-brow scatological jokes are not new to Sandler, there's a surprising, if welcome, greater emphasis on the sexual and raunchy material than we're used to, from Zohan telling elderly women at the salon "you've got the ass and tits of a schoolgirl" to his actual fucking of them after cutting their hair. At first, it's established that he views the intercourse as a polite thing to do ("I had to thank her!"), but eventually it becomes clear, in a refreshing twist, he actually enjoys banging the women. There's no Max Bialystock-style revulsion here, he's just a kindly weirdo who has a predilection for heavier, older ladies. I also enjoyed Zohan's penis dictating most of his actions/feelings (e.g.: his love for Chriqui is indicated by his dick not getting hard for other women) and having a life of its own so to speak (at one point, it waves goodbye).

Most of the media attention surrounding "Zohan" has been about the movie's touching upon the Israeli-Palestinean conflict, and while the movie focuses more on old-lady-fucking and disco-dancing, the subject is given much credence and screentime. Surprisingly, considering Sandler's real-life political dunderheadednss (e.g.: his campaign contributions to Rudy Giuliani), the movie isn't unremittingly pro-Israel, but actually keeps an even keel, embracing a "let's all get along" dynamic that actually feels sincere, unlike the mandated hypocritical apologizing ending of "Chuck and Larry." The movie also acknowledges the complexity of the situation, though avoids delving into it. The most we get in that department (wisely) is a Palestinean freedom fighter trying to explain mid-attack, "I'm just saying, it's not so cut and dry!" Once Zohan hits NYC, there's a clever gag about one side of the street being Israeli and the other being Palestinean, and Sandler's call for unity is rather sweet and well-intentioned; the unnecessary romance subplot actually serves a purpose this time around, since said love interest is Palestinean. The movie also implies, if not outright states, that Americans have more to fear from all-powerful corporations, and racist rednecks, than most Middle Easterns; in its own stupid way, it's heartening that the movie depicts Zohan joining forces with the Phantom at one point, and apparently, both sides of the conflict can come together on their love for Mariah Carey. It's extremely simplistic, obviously (this is a Sandler film, after all), but it's a genuinely nice gesture.

Last year's "I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry" was easily one of the most discomfiting, homophobic films to ever be given a national release (and it made gobs of money, of course), but it was hardly Sandler's films' only presentation of such attitudes -- intentional or unintentional. His works have been largely dominated by homophobia, and he seems to be incapable of making a movie without having a gay or gay-ish character we're meant to perceive as "gross" and who either (a) hits on Sandler, or (b) sticks something phallic in their mouth. It's a lame-ass, immature attempt to pander to 12-year-old boys' discomfort with homosexuality and perpetuate negative stereotypes. So, much to my surprise, in a movie that seems to cry out for low-blow gay jokes, the homophobia is kept to a minimum here. Aside from Zohan's parents laughing at him and assuming he's a "fageleh," the mockery is tamped down; there's a wildly flaming Gaysian Claude (Alec Mapa) working in the salon, but his homosexuality isn't really acknowledged, let alone included as an object of derision. There's also a late film throwaway gag involving cameos by gay celebs George Takei and Bruce Vilanch that any gay with a sense of humor should be able to laugh at. It may not be a huge compliment to say "it's not that homophobic!," but for Sandler, it's a step up.

When going through things that I found funny about "Zohan," there's virtually none of it that can be classified as "clever," "witty" or "defensible;" there are some/many people that are going to hate this movie, and not quite fathom how I could like it. But while I admit it could be a little shorter (an hour and 45 minutes is a bit much to ask for something this brainless), this sort of brash, original, moronic lunacy is my cup 'o tea, and you'll know very early on if it's yours. This may be -- okay, is -- a stupid movie, but it's a really ambitious stupid movie, and not only features numerous things I never thought I'd see in a film, it represents a unique inching in the absurdist direction that I think more dumb comedies could benefit from. Throw into that a fairly sincere, surprisingly resonant message about following your dreams and being who you are, despite what anyone thinks, and you have an appealing (at least to me) blend of heart and supreme idiocy.

"Kung Fu Panda" -- * * *

2008-06-06T00:00:00.006-04:00

I admit, I wasn't really looking forward to seeing Dreamworks' latest zany animated work, "Kung Fu Panda." The title, and thus the premise, are so lowest-common-denominator and painfully high-concept on the surface (I'd been making fun of it for weeks). It seemed to adopt the filmmaking mindset of most movies of this ilk, operating under the principle that kids will watch anything, and a wacky, simple premise (e.g.: tap-dancing penguins) is all you need for them to drag their parents. So, it's much to my surprise that the movie takes its simple, title-explaining concept and runs with it, never settling for the bare minimum of creativity. Taking a left-field approach, in a way that reminded me a bit of last summer's underrated "Surf's Up," this is an extremely entertaining movie that's often very funny, and equally successful in its execution of action and packaging of morals for kids. The results are truly inspired, doing some innovative things with the medium, and anyone who allows themselves to be even a little susceptible to the movie's charms will have trouble resisting.

Our story is set in China's Valley of Peace, apparently populated entirely by talking animals. Panda Po (Jack Black) works in a noodle shop/restaurant for his father (the indomitable James Hong) and dreams of being a martial arts master. All the while, turtle monk Master Oogway has had a vision that the evil Tai Lung (Ian McShane) is going to escape from prison, then destroy and dominate the Valley of peace. To stop this, Oogway must decide who must to become the dragon warrior. The five obvious candidates, the Furious Five, are all trained under sensei Master Shifu (Dustin Hoffman); they are Tigress (Angelina Jolie), Viper (Lucy Liu), Monkey (Jackie Chan), Crane (David Cross), and Mantis (Seth Rogen). Somehow, through a series of random coincidences, the elderly Oogway chooses Po as the dragon warrior, infuriating Shifu and the Furious Five (who Po worships as a fan); their disbelief is understandable since the portly Po has trouble climbing up more than three or four stairs and has his biggest workouts while eating meals. But, as the decision has been made by Master Oogway, it must be accepted and Shifu must train Po and assess if he has any talent or capability, or ensure he doesn't make it through training. This is basically "Rocky" meets "The Karate Kid," formula-wise, and you know where things are going; the fun is getting there (literally-- the training period doesn't end until about an hour into this 83-minute movie).

While it seems every children's film has some phony positive message(s) shoehorned in, the ones here are never obtrusive and actually could do a bit of good. Like this week's "You Don't Mess with the Zohan" (arguably the only thing the two movies have in common), there's a nice throughline about following your passions and believing in yourself that actually rings true; who among us can't relate to a panda who slaves in a noodle shop longing to be a Kung Fu master? There's many a waiter working in NYC cafes with dreams that're seemingly as unlikely. I also found it refreshing, and positively inspiring, how Po learns to turn his weaknesses into strengths (e.g.: using his fat as an asset in the climactic battle) and having confidence in himself being more important than actually having skills ("There is no secret ingredient"). It might be a reach, but hey, if it makes one fat kid even a little bit less self-conscious about himself, that's more good than most films of this ilk usually attempt. But besides the message-whipping on display, this is a great movie for kids just in the respect that they will positively love it. It never stops moving, propelling briskly from one plot event to the next, and I can virtually guarantee they'll never get bored. My kid-filled Saturday morning screening was nearly silent for the movie's entirety, which is generally unheard of during such events.

Still, as appealing as it is for kids, there's one audience that'll enjoy it even more: fans of old Kung fu films. This is a genuine Kung fu movie, not just a family movie with some Kung fu elements; there's a wealth of well-done action and fight sequences throughout, and at almost every turn, there's an effort to pay tribute to films that clearly inspired this one's creation. From the clever, chop-socky take on the Dreamworks logo at the outset to Shifu's classic sensei elements (he boasts crazy white facial hair and the ability to heal and cripple with a few precise taps), there's clearly a love for the film's origins on display. On top of which, this is a significantly more appealing way to introduce kids to the Kung Fu fighting styles (Crane, Monkey, Tigress, etc) than April's "The Forbidden Kingdom," which was oddly more violent and more infantile than this. And you don't need to be a Kung fu expert to "get" the excess of parodic slo-mo and recognize elements you may have glimpsed in the "Kill Bill" films (I was reminded of the five-point palm exploding heart technique on more than one occasion).

Lest I forget to mention, this young-skewing animated film is often very, very funny. Aside from the simple ideas of Po possibly being picked as dragon warrior because master Turtle is going senile, and being motivated to do Kung Fu properly by food incentives, the filmmakers get considerable mileage out of Po's unashamed fanboy nature. He's such a Kung Fu / Furious Five nerd, he geeks out over exact moments that took place at their lair, and during training, he actually enjoys getting pummeled by these guys because they're his heroes (upon being kicked in the face, he utters, "that was awesome!"). The moments of broad slapstick -- at one point, he's hit in the nuts, dubbed his "tenders" -- surprisingly work, and the incongruous juxtaposition of highbrow Asian culture and a fat, clumsy panda are not overlooked ("Panda, we do not wash our pits in the pool of Sacred Tears"). I won't spoil it, but there's an acupuncture gag midway through that was so funny, I literally had trouble stifling my chuckling for a minute or two afterwards.

The animation here is gorgeous, but to be fair, that's kind of expected from these sort of films by this point. Still, there's a really keen visual style on display here that incorporates Chinese art and styles and utilizes a gorgeous color palette and shadings. The film opens with an exaggerated 2-D dream sequence, and when the transition is made into 3-D animation, the effect is fairly remarkable and almost reason alone to see this on IMAX (if not likely to be quite as sensory experience as "Speed Racer"). There are consistent visual flourishes that etched memorable images into my brain, chiefly the really effective scenes of Tai Lung chained up in his below ground dungeon, and the truly beautiful way Tigress's eyes glow at night. I have a feeling everyone's going to have a sequence or two to claim as their favorite, but I particularly adored said two-dimensional opening dream sequence (Po narrates, "Legend tells of a legendary warrior..."), the sure-to-be-infamous training battle over dumplings, and Tai Lung's escape from his dungeon, which had me actually muttering an awe-inspired "very cool."

Admittedly, those who are regularly annoyed by Jack Black will continue to be annoyed by Jack Black, but it's superb voice casting. He makes Po so incredibly likeable, charming and adorable, without relying purely on his Jack-Black-isms of funny sound effects; we genuinely like and understand where Po is coming from, and even as a talking panda who does Kung Fu, we believe him as a real character. He's occasionally prone to crying, and not always for laughs, and his unabashed sensitivity is what makes him such an unlikely, and refreshing, hero. Last time Black was suspected of "selling out," it was for the similarly kid-centric "School of Rock" -- which currently provided us with his best performance to date -- and like with that film, this provides him with a potentially defining character/project, and not just the cashing of a paycheck. Hoffman is almost as perfect casting, taking a part that could've easily been sleepwalked through and imbuing it with a sense of warmth, frustration and wit that makes it a pleasure whenever Shifu's onscreen. McShane also has a lot of fun as Tailung, though it helps how the character's been drawn; he's a villain who's not only genuinely frightening, but actually has reasonable motivation and isn't just "evil." The rest of the voice cast is fine, but doesn't really do much (most noticeably Jolie, who has now done two voice over jobs with no personality).

To be clear, I liked "Kung Fu Panda;" I think it's ultimately too simple and unspectacular to all-out love, but perhaps my enthusiasm is just boosted by the fact that the film is a respite from a genre that is known for shameless pandering and minimal effort. This isn't anything resembling the soulless "Shark Tale" and "Bee Movie" (or "Shrek the Third") that have been brought to us by Dreamworks Animation in the past; its closest cousin might be the oft-forgotten "Antz" from 1998. What largely sets it apart from the feral pack aside from the effervescent enthusiasm/creativity, is the fact that the movie avoids the lazy crutch of instantly-dating pop culture references, and if I recall correctly, poop or fart jokes. In fact, the movie almost entirely eschews tired cliches; even a rendition of the seemingly-inevitable "Kung Fu Fighting" (used in all the trailers) is thankfully saved for the closing credits.

"Kung Fu Panda" may not be a classic, but I think a substantial portion of its target audience is going to love it, and those who had minimal interest may be surprised how gosh durn enjoyable it is. While this may be due to it not having the expectations of something like "Iron Man" or "Indiana Jones," it gives itself a unique edge by being a summer movie that actually delivers what it promises and then some (a movie making me smile for most of its duration is never a bad thing). Despite an underwhelming pitch and marketing campaign, it packs a significantly greater amount of wit, energy and creativity than we've come to expect from family films, but whether kids are in tow or not, "Kung Fu Panda" offers a surprising, at least for me, amount of entertainment for your buck.

"Sex and the City" -- * * *

2008-05-30T00:02:00.000-04:00

No one would accuse me of being the world's biggest "Sex and the City" fan, so I can't quite offer the diehard's perspective on this four-years-later epilogue to the series; though I've seen every episode, I'm certainly not a member of the rabid base that was eagerly anticipating this film version. I thought the 1998-2004 HBO show was a consistently entertaining, amusing, fairly vacuous fantasy that never really made me howl with laughter or marvel at its emotional complexity, but it did what it set out to do well, and I usually enjoyed it. So, as a mild appreciator of the series, I was relatively satisfied and entertained by "Sex and the City," the movie, as it's basically an episode of the show, but longer. Truth be told, the film doesn't really justify its existence; we don't get a reason why this story needed to be told, nor does it really take huge advantage of its new cinematic form (though, to be fair, what possible limitations were left to break down?). It's just an excuse to see old friends again and revisit a show you may have missed these last four years. It's not an encapsulation of all that the series is or was, it's more of a bonus mini-season, which I expect will be enough to satiate fans' appetites.

For a show where plot was rarely important, a shocking amount of my friends have sworn to kill me if I dare "ruin" plot points from this movie, so I'll do my best to remain discreet and only reveal things that take place in the first 10-15 minutes. Clips from the show catch us up during the film's clever opening credits, and we're soon brought up to date on the goings-ons of Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker), Miranda (Cynthia Nixon), Charlotte (Kristen Davis) and Samantha (Kim Cattrall). Carrie and Mr. Big (Chris Noth) are still together, and he still looks like a suavely sexy amalgam of a falcon and Herman Munster; he proposes to Carrie almost immediately after the opening credits. Charlotte is still happily married to Harry (Evan Handler), taking care of their adopted Asian 4-year-old daughter who has a tendency to repeat everything she hears; Charlotte shrieks no less than three times in the first 15 minutes. Miranda still lives in Brooklyn with Steve (David Eigenberg) and their son Brady, and since she's Miranda, you know something is going to happen to destroy her happiness; factor in her telling Steve to "just get it over with" during sex, and you're well on your way to figuring out what. Samantha (Kim Cattrall) is, in a clever way of keeping Cattrall away from the other actresses as much as possible, living in Los Angeles with her actor boyfriend Smith (Jason Lewis); in a nice bit of Time-Warner synergy, their apartment is plastered with Smith-bedecked Entertainment Weekly covers. Oh, and she has a hot neighbor living next door, screwing all the women in town. There, I managed to avoid spoilers. See below if you want to know the shocking events of "Sex and the City's" second act:

*SPOILERS BELOW*

Miranda doesn't wax her bush!
Charlotte shits her pants!
Carrie dyes her hair to become a brunette!
Samantha leers suggestively at attractive men!

*SPOILERS OVER*

The men, heterosexual and homosexual alike, are virtual non-entities. While I had a feeling they'd understandably get put on the back burner, there's an entire 45-minute-long chunk in the middle of the movie where neither Big, Harry, Steve nor Smith appear for even one moment. Harry, arguably the most interesting of the four gets the least to say or do of all; I can count his lines of dialogue on one hand. Similarly, the two token gays, Anthony (Mario Cantone) and Stanford (Willie Garson) get the short shrift; Cantone gets a few moments to shriek, but Garson is given, I believe, two sentences to utter in the entire film. For all the relationship drama on display, this is really a movie about the four women's friendship, not sex or relationships. Without spilling the beans, they're all given a mood to play throughout and a consistently-themed storyline/arc to go through; Miranda, still my favorite of the bunch, has a fairly moody one, and like the character, it feels the most real/recognizable of the four. Carrie's is sadsies, as well, and while Charlotte's is a happy one, Davis is given astonishingly little to do here. Charlotte shows up to beam once in a while and largely disappears. As usual, Samantha has virtually no substance, and her whole arc is literally about her staring hornily at her "sex on a stick" hunk neighbor. Needless to say, by the time the credits roll, all four are smiling and happy with themselves and each other.

The four actresses are damned good at embodying these characters by this point, and don't ever appear to be going through the motions, even if they are. At doing what Charlotte does (smiling and being appalled) and what Samantha does (being naked, and saying profane things in public), Davis and Cattrall do just fine, but neither requires much stretching of acting muscles. Nixon and Parker are asked to carry most of the emotional load here, and it's easy to see that they're the more talented half of the foursome. Nixon, as usual, makes decent material pop more than it would seem capable of; she gets a really good moment when confronting Steve outside of Carrie's engagement party that could have been too much, but isn't, thanks to her. SJP acts up a storm, and plumbs the depths of Carrie's emotions more than the show ever allowed. There are moments here that give "Sex and the City" something vaguely resembling depth, and they almost all involve her. And for what it's worth, Parker, Nixon and Davis all do a really good job of acting like they tolerate Cattrall.

One of the first things I heard post-screening from fans of the show was that the movie was more dramatic than it was comedic, and they're right. There are less laughs here than fans may be expecting (though still enough to label this a comedy) and the proceedings are more dramatic than we're used to, but the show was never hilarious, so it wasn't a huge deal to me. As I see it, the seasons all had their own little arcs and themes and tones, and since this is essentially its own season, I was fine with it, and it still felt like "Sex and the City" to me. Maybe the girls will have more chance for fun and playing around and laughing in the sequel, but for now, this'll do, and it serves as a better series finale than what we got the first time around. But aside from the tone, the one thing sticking out making this "different" than the show is the presence of Jennifer Hudson as Carrie's slave, doting assistant Louise from St. Louis (if you miss the "Saint Louise" allusion initially, don't worry, the movie will point it out for you a half dozen more times). Though not sticking out as an emphatic misstep, Louise's presence here is largely worthless, even if it is cute that "Sex and the City" is finally trying to acknowledge that New York City has black people in it.

The show's two chief indulgences were always fashion and sex, and disappointingly, the movie is a bit heavier on the former. While the labels 'comedy,' 'drama' and 'romance' apply, the film could also easily be labeled 'shoe/bag/dress porn;' it's as if the script was written to try to accommodate every fashion designer who wanted to have their dresses featured in the movie. It's hard to believe these women have enough time to worry about their relationships when they're so busy orgasming over expensive shoes and handbags, and there's at least a half a dozen extended fashion show sequences (which are fun, even if they crop up out of nowhere). By the time the film's Fashion Week fashion show centerpiece rolls around, it just feels like yet another clothes display than anything special. But where fashion-oglers get their fill, hornier audience members will find the amount of sexuality fairly light. Sure, we get some stray boobs, male asses, and the occasional shot thrusting, but this is a movie that cried out for unadulterated fucking and full-frontal shots. We get one poignant, quick, explicit encounter near the end and a glimpse of about one-third of a penis for half a second at the two hour mark, and it's just not enough to satiate this target audience's desire for equal-opportunity male objectification. It's worth noting that "Forgetting Sarah Marshall" used its prominently-displayed penis shots to far greater effect.

Writer/director/exec-producer Michael Patrick King is best regarded for the first of those three titles, and justifiably so; The bitchy one-liners and frank discussions were the show's strong points, and his writing seems to have matured along with the characters. Though a moment involving a character shitting their pants, and a running joke of a dog humping a stuffed animal may have you thinking Adam Sandler has temporarily hijacked the "Sex and the City" movie, King makes up for it by peppering the screenplay with witty observations, broadly funny moments, and clever meditations on NYC living and aging/maturation. There are no great sequences that everyone will be buzzing about ("She's fashion roadkill!"), but Carrie's assessment that -- I'm paraphrasing -- "your twenties are for having fun, your thirties are for learning your lessons, and your forties are to pay for the drinks" and Samantha exhaustingly tossing away a copy of "The Secret" ring true, and will resonate with much of the movie/show's core audience. Also, native New Yorkers will recognize the movie's little acknowledgments of the frustration of being dealt a 347 area code when there's no 917's left, the recent ever-presence of the iPhone and the warming comfort of the Big Apple's more insane liberal protesters (upon having her fur coat splattered with red paint, Samantha smiles and utters, "I love New York").

Much pre-release discussion about the film has revolved around its super duper running time, and early reviews declaring it too long (at least two attendees in my group agreed with that consensus). Now, maybe it's just because I'm used to watching a bunch of episodes at a time on DVD, but the film's 2 hour 15 minute running time wasn't that daunting to me. I won't lie, it doesn't fly by -- it feels like its 2 hours and 15 minutes -- but it's paced fairly well and I was never bored by it.The wedding you've all seen in the trailer comes at around the 45 minute mark, and the trip the ladies take to Mexico that lasts 15 minutes (one-ninth of the running time) may be a distant memory by the time the credits roll, but hey, it's more movie for your buck. Frankly, if a show that I loved was being turned into a movie after being off the air for four years, I'd want it to be as long as possible. So while it may be too much "Sex and the City" in one sitting for some fans, I suspect only for very few of them.

For the newbies: if you've not seen "Sex and the City" and are going to the movie just to see what all the fuss is about, you will not like it. Out of the half dozen virgin viewers I've spoken to, only one of them seemed to enjoy the movie (the others found it bland and/or torturous), and that's not a very good percentage. It's not really a stand-alone movie, and as I assess its virtues/problems, I guess that should bother me more, but it doesn't. This is an experience strictly for those that consider themselves fans of the show and enjoy vicariously living through four wealthy, attractive Upper East Side ladies in their mid-40s. As such, this is easily the biggest event movie for gays and women since "The Devil Wears Prada" and I'm sure it'll make a hefty bundle. Serving as an estrogen-filled counterpart to last week's "Indiana Jones," and relying just as much on nostalgia, it's a movie practically tailor-made for cosmopolitan-fueled girls night outs. And no matter how impervious you think you are to it, it's difficult not smiling the first time seeing these four together again.

"The Strangers" -- * * 1/2

2008-05-30T00:01:00.002-04:00

Ever since premiering two months ago, the superb trailer for the new home invasion thriller "The Strangers" has been circulating, creeping the shit out of people. In theaters nationwide, it's been invoking gasps, particularly at the moment when we first get a glimpse of a masked assailant stalking Liv Tyler. For weeks now, I've had friends-- and I'm talking about people who rarely go to the movies-- asking me about that "scary movie with the people with the masks." While the movie actually manages to deliver what the trailer promises, that ends up not being quite enough. There are some remarkably effective touches here; the film has a fairly unsettling feel to much of it, and some good scares at that. However, it all too often wallows in cliche horror movie tricks, and its repetitive nature at times gives way to boredom. For a film that runs only 75 minutes to begin with, that's ultimately too many detractions (at least, for me) to merit a trip to the theater.

The movie opens with a sequence that seems to intentionally evoke memories of "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre," with two Mormon boys happening upon a blood-smeared house one morning preceded by a suspiciously John-Laroquette-sounding baritone voice telling us "What you are about to see is based on true events" that took place on February 11, 2005. We then flash back four hours earlier to Kristen McKay (Liv Tyler) and James Hoyt (Scott Speedman) returning home from a wedding, with her still in her gown and him in a suit. He's set up a candle lit dinner and rose petals in the bathtub ahead of time, but judging by his frown and the dried-up tears on her face, it seems a safe bet neither is in the mood for romance. We don't quite know what happened initially, but yet another flashback tells us he proposed to her and she turned him down. As the two begin to have make-up sex at 4 a.m., someone pounds on the door. It's an adolescent-looking girl asking if Tamara is home, and she clearly has the wrong house. When James goes out to get something, the girl returns asking for Tamara again, only this time she's wearing a creepy store-bought mask and she's brought two similarly-attired friends, just in time for James to return. Though the motivation-less creepers stalking a pretty man-and-woman recalls Michael Haneke's "Funny Games," "The Strangers's" closest cousin is last year's very strong B-movie "Vacancy" with its "couple going through relationship problems terrorized by psychos" premise.

Like numerous films of this ilk (including "Funny Games"), the opening section, before anything actually bad happens, is the strongest. Slowly establishing the relationship/situation between James and Kristen, while building tension and atmosphere, the opening third puts us on edge without us really knowing why and incrementally involves us. At first it's not quite clear what's going on between the two, and even when we find out, we don't get details. Once Kristen starts getting scared/tormented, before the home is actually invaded, it's a lot more unsettling than what occurs when the shit hits the fan. Before it does, we don't really know what's about to come or when, and Bertino utilizes a lot of silence to maintain the tension. When we get out first big jumpy "scare," it feels earned and is a lot more effective for the way it's been built up. Over the course of the movie, we don't learn much about the couple, but their relationship is nicely established and they're not just disposable, empty-headed teens. Neither actor does gangbusters work here, but they're believable as a couple and if better-utilized, their relationship/situation could've been really effective overall.

Despite some questionable decisions as a writer (some groan-worthy character decisions and seemingly pro-Christian messages), Bertino is an unquestionably talented director. He clearly has an affinity for old-school horror mechanics, and understands that silence is scarier than big loud noises. Particularly in the first third, he employs lots of silence and little-to-no music, and even when the music kicks in later, its not overwhelmingly loud/jump-inducing. The film also has a low-lit and/or washed out look to it that keeps the atmosphere suitably murky. The movie's also refreshing in that there are minimal teases or 'gotcha' moments (e.g.: a cat jumping out of a closet); when you think something bad's about to happen, it usually does. My friend Ben responded to this, "so you liked that it was predictable?" and he has a point, but still, in horror movies, fake outs are usually the order of the day.

I'm a proponent of as much ambiguity in movies as possible, so maybe I'm a bit biased, but I found the amount of unanswered questions in "The Strangers" wildly refreshing. We know these are three people who knock on Kristen and James' door wearing masks and asking if Tamara is home, and that's all we're told. We don't get a scene where the mask-wearers' identities are revealed, and we find out Tamara's the girl who used to live in the house before her mother killed her, and etc. etc. Nothing (including the tormentors' motivations) is explained, and the ambiguity lends a creepy air to the proceedings. The film's admirable in its simplicity and allows the more successful moments to be their own raison d'atre and not be bogged down with exposition. The creme de la creme of those moment's is, predictably, the trailer-glimpsed one of baghead standing in the background while Liv Tyler smokes a cigarette in the kitchen. While it would have been great if we didn't already see this moment before seeing the movie, it's arguably a big part of what's getting butts into seats, and even spoiled, the moment isn't sapped of all impact. He stays in a background for a very long time, and the shot doesn't get any less armrest-clutching the longer it it goes on. However, Bertino's best trick is his usage of old-timey country ballads to incongruously play over tense moments, most effectively during an extremely tense unexpected-guest-arriving sequence scored to "Mama Tried."

Still, for every nod of the head Bertino gets with his good decisions, there are almost as many cringes induced by his employment of tired horror movie cliches. The film tries to establish itself as "real" with the opening crawl (despite being inspired by elements of five or six different crimes, not directly based on anything), but things consistently occur happen that can only happen in horror movie world. When James goes to retrieve something from the car, one of the strangers touches the back of his neck, and when he immediately flinches and turns around, there's no one there. Are they ghosts, or just have superpowers? Also, James' decision to leave Kristen alone in the house not once, but twice, smacks of something no real person would do, and the dialogue occasionally reeks of Horror Screenwriting 101 ("I'm so scared!" and "Don't go out there!" are both shrieked at various points). Managing to undo much of the good will generated by the earlier sections' quiet/tense strengths, the movie seems to indulge in loud, jolting music and sound effects the more it goes on, culminating in an inexcusable final shot that just might result in crowds leaving the theater justifiably angry.

This is a very small-scale, intimate horror film, and at first it seems clever and effective in its economy and simplicity, but then it does the thing it does well again... and again... and again. At about the two-thirds mark, it hits you: is this movie going to be all buildup? By the fourth sequence in a row of one of our leads creeping around for five minutes and hearing ominous noises leading into a jumpy scare of a masked person jumping out the shadows, I felt like shouting at the screen "Is that all there is?!" I guess it's logical that not much happens -- think about it, how much story momentum can really occur in a home invasion scenario? -- but the repetitive structure begins to get flat-out boring as the film progresses. It's effective to a point, but it loses said effect fairly quickly. Even in its stronger moments, the movie's never terribly compelling, and you keep waiting for it to jumpstart. The trailer turns out not to be a tease of what the film has to offer, but rather, a compressed 2.5 minute version of the film. That's all you get; no different types of scares, no other set-pieces, no further interaction between our creepers and our leads. It's disappointing, and may be the rare case where a trailer saps a movie of much of its impact.

As those who know me are aware, I'm somewhat of a cheerleader for the horror movie genre. I think it's so filled up with regurgitated half-assed shit and barely warmed-over, soulless remakes, that when something even a smidgen unique or inspired comes along, I tend to be more than a little appreciative (this year alone saw underrated gems such as "Cloverfield," "Teeth," "The Signal," "The Ruins" and "Doomsday"). And while "The Strangers" does some things right, these things are almost maddening because they hint at the potential that was there. Anytime an old-school, straightforward horror movie comes along, it's a step in the right direction in my eyes, but what we get here is an uncomfortable balance between effective atmospheric touches and settling for what's been tried-and-proven before. What you end up getting is a movie that won't terrify you while you're watching it, but just may put you on edge when you think about it while home alone later that night. The trailer will bring in a nice opening weekend at the box office, but with a little more care and craft, this could've been more than a modestly engaging, forgettable horror movie.

"Savage Grace" -- * * *

2008-05-30T00:00:00.001-04:00

It's a shame Tom Kalin's "Savage Grace" couldn't have opened in time for Mother's Day, because it depicts what is probably the most depraved mother-son story you could think up (and it's all true!). It's also the rare movie that's cold and frigid in a good way, as it takes a rather insane story and doesn't ever seem to milk it for camp or exploitation. This may in fact be some people's primary issue with the film, complaining that it de-camps source material that is naturally campy, but this was probably the only way to approach this subject matter/story without turning it into a scintillating "Notes on a Scandal"-style soap opera. It still is a soap opera of sorts, but the cold, "classy" presentation almost unwittingly turns it into a more unsettling and ultimately horrifying one. In a season known for light, mindless popcorn movies, this is unconventional summer fare to say the least, but for all of its 85 minutes, I found it incredibly absorbing as I kept waiting for the next bad thing to happen. The icing on the cake is that it's all anchored by a return-to-form by the luminous Julianne Moore playing one of her most batshit roles. I've heard "Savage Grace" referred to as a "cautionary tale," but I don't know if it quite has a message to impart besides, "rich people are.... weird."

Based on the book by Natalie Robins and Steven M. L. Aronson, "Savage Grace" (like the book) is framed with narrations of letters from Tony Baekeland (Eddie Redmayne) to his father, Brooks (Stephen Dillane), heir of the Bakelite plastics fortune. Beginning in post-World War II Manhattan and going well into the '60, the film chiefly documents the goings-ons after Brooks leaves the family for various reasons, thus strengthening the relationship between Tony and possessive mother Barbara (Moore). Impulsive, pretentious and more than a wee bit homophobic, Barbara develops a deep, disturbing bond with the openly gay Tony that reaches its apex during his teenage years. We begin with Tony as a small boy, and Barbara and Brooks married, and with a slow boil, are lead into the true-life story's infamous climax. Yes, I'm being intentionally vague.

While Barbara has nowhere near the depth of "Boogie Nights's" Amber Waves, "Far From Heaven's" Cathy Whitaker, "Safe's" Carol White, or even "The Hours'" Laura Brown and "Magnolia's" Linda Partridge, it still registers as one of the best, most fearless performances of Moore's career. After wasting away in paycheck vehicles like "Laws of Attraction," "Next," and "Freedomland," this qualifies as an unquestionable return to form for the four-time Oscar nominated actress. Though the character does allow Moore to chew some scenery, Barbara always feels like a real human being, if not an entirely three-dimensional one. The performance, as well as the character, is bizarre at times, and while the movie occasionally seems confused about who she is, that's because Barbara is also; whether flaunting her ideal-aristocratic-wife smile, or motherly whispering, "Inside voice!" as her son resists a handjob, you just can't keep your eyes off her. As a full-fledged movie star, this was a bold role for her to take, but Hollywood status aside, it's also a great one, and a reminder that even in a knowingly "big" performance, Moore's one of the best actresses we've got.

The film is paced very carefully, allowing things to slowly build and get worse and worse (in a way that reminded me of "There Will Be Blood"). Unless you know too much about the true life story going in, you don't know exactly where this is all leading, building the atmosphere without heavily foreshadowing things; those going in knowing nothing will have one of the more jolting movie experiences of the year. However, the incremental structure keeps the places we end up from feeling predictable or inevitable, without seeming like they came out of nowhere either. It makes it feel relatively real and allows us to be slowly enveloped, not just wait for the assumed mother-son dicking to happen.

As a film featuring all sorts of deviancy and decadence, sensationalism could have been gone for every step of the way, but Kalin allows the proceedings to be shocking in a quietly haunting, draining way, not resorting to brash melodrama. Both Fernando Velázquez's string-heavy score and the gaps of silence (the kind which say more than the dialogue) in Howard Rodman's script contribute heavily to this and both, honestly, are areas I initially expected to fall under the "too much" category here. Aside from just the content, this is kind of a strange movie, from the reserved approach, the handling of the character perspectives and the tonal escalation signaling foreboding doom. The fact that the latter continues even after the film's supposed climaxes lets us know things can only get worse. While the mother-son *cough* intimacy will be what gets the movie any attention coming its way, I was much more disturbed by little scenes like young Tony applying healer to Barbara's stitches on her wrists from her past suicide attempts, while she eats ice cream naked in the bathtub.

As engaging as "Savage Grace" is, it's exactly the sort of film that will draw a primarily elderly, arty audience and repulse them all with its content. I'm just imagining senior citizen patrons of my hometown's Cinema Arts Center muttering "My goodness!" and exiting the theater. An open mind will be required on both ends of the spectrum, and might make for a moviegoing experience where half of the audience finds it too trashy and debased and the other half finds it too conservative and tasteful. If nothing else, this is a film that's worth seeking out for Moore's stellar performance alone. The Academy isn't likely to go anywhere near this movie, so it's a performance likely to slip under the radar unless you make an effort to find it. You'll probably leave the theater with an awful taste in your mouth, but that's kind of the point. It'll certainly serve as a nice antidote for those sick of bubble-headed, middle-aged women babbling about shoes and bags.

"Savage Grace" opens today at two theaters, the IFC Center and Clearviews' 62nd and Broadway, both in New York, but depending on your cable provider, you can order it On Demand in the 'IFC In Theaters' section.