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He has controled of the World!

2007-12-01T11:56:00.000-08:00

He has controled of the World!

Boys and their toys are in full formation in “Transformers,” a movie of epically assaultive noise and nonsense. Originating with the shape-shifting toys — created in Japan, rebranded in America — that transform from robots into stuff like cars and planes, then back again, the movie has been designed as the ultimate in shock-and-awe entertainment. The result is part car commercial, part military recruitment ad, a bumper-to-bumper pileup of big cars, big guns and, as befits its recently weaned target demographic, big breasts.

First introduced in 1984, just in time for the rise of geek culture, the Transformer toys have spawned comic books, television shows, video games, an animated feature and a fan base that has grown beyond children to include collectors like Steven Spielberg, an executive producer for the new movie. Not surprisingly, there’s a touch of mawkish Spielbergian sentiment in the movie’s empathetic hook, a riff on the boy and his alien friendship from “E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial.” This time the boy is Sam Witwicky (Shia LaBeouf, talking fast, running hard), a high schooler who discovers that his dingy 1970s Camaro is actually a gentle giant of a robot, Bumblebee.

There’s more — a few goofy caricatures, some throwaway laughs, a lot of technological gobbledygook, the usual filler. Written by Alex Kurtzman and Roberto Orci, who cobbled the story together with John Rogers, the movie takes flight with a raucous, confusing attack on an American military base in Qatar. There, under the desert sun, muscly, sweaty military types (Josh Duhamel, Tyrese Gibson) clash with an ominous helicopter that converts into a mysteriously angry critter with an articulated tail like that of a scorpion. Back in the United States the secretary of defense (Jon Voight) barks orders at other military types while Sam juggles his weird ride, his mounting fear and his agitated hormones.

The guy charged with keeping the movie in gear is the director Michael Bay, the hard-core action savant whose other big-screen eruptions include “The Rock,” “Armageddon,” “Pearl Harbor” and “Bad Boys II.” Like his last effort, “The Island,” this new flick isn’t as propulsive and casually sadistic as the movies that he made with the producer Jerry Bruckheimer (this carries a reasonable PG-13); it feels slower, more tamped down than the usual Bruckheimer assaults. The camera, or rather multiple cameras, are still shooting every which way, and the cutting sometimes registers as eye-blink fast, but not compulsively so. Mr. Bay allows himself to linger here and there, which explains the bloated, almost two-and-a-half-hour running time.

On the face of it “Transformers” is a story as old as the Greeks versus the Trojans, the difference being that these warriors are visitors from another planet, the 1980s-sounding Cybertron, and there isn’t a jot of poetry, tragedy, beauty, meaning or interest in this fight. The Autobots are trying to locate some all-important cube that looks like a Borg starship from “Star Trek: The Next Generation” before it’s found by the Autobots’ villainous alien brethren, the Decepticons. During their mission the Autobots blend into the earthly backdrop by turning into zippy cars and mondo trucks, a strategy that works particularly well in Southern California. Curiously, though the toys originated in Japan, no robot changes into a Toyota.

It’s kind of nifty when the robots transform the first time; they furiously shake back and forth like wet dogs desperately to dry off. But by the 99th time there’s no fun left at all, even during the rock-’em, sock-’em knockdown that delivers the movie, in Spielbergesque pastiche, first to a violent and then to a warm-and-fuzzy close. The actors tend to be more engaging, notably Mr. LaBeouf, who brings energy and a semi-straight face to the dumbest setup. Just as easy on the eyes, though for other reasons, are the two female leads, the genius hacker in throw-her-down heels (Rachael Taylor) and the grease-monkey bombshell (Megan Fox) who helps Sam rise to the manly occasion. These walking, talking dolls register as less human and believable than the Transformers, which may be why they were even allowed inside this boy’s club.

The movie waves the flag equally for Detroit and the military, if to no coherent end. Last year the director of General Motors brand-marketing and advertising clarified how the company’s cars were integral to the movie: “It’s a story of good versus evil. Our cars are the good guys.” And sure enough, most of the Autobots take the shape of GM vehicles, including Ratchet (a Hummer H2) and Ironhide (a TopKick pickup truck). The only Autobot that doesn’t wear that troubled automaker’s logo is the leader, Optimus Prime (a generic 18-wheeler tractor). Maybe that’s because the company didn’t want to be represented by a character that promises to blow itself up for the greater good, as Optimus does, especially one based on a child’s toy.

Shape-shifters of another kind, Hollywood action movies bend this way and that politically in a bid to please as many viewers as possible, but they almost always play out exactly the same, as entertaining violence leads to heroic individualism leads to the restoration of order. “Transformers” is no different, even if it does offer chewy distraction for the bored viewer: the would-be suicide bomber, American soldiers tearing it up in the Middle East while American cars keep up the fight at home, along with plugs for Burger King, Lockheed Martin, Mountain Dew and the Department of Defense. Why there’s even a president who asks for a Ding Dong. He’s wearing red socks like a big old clown, but no one really laughs.

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He can change everything!

2007-12-01T11:25:00.000-08:00

He can change everything!

The gasping, grunting and oozing hard-body slab that muscles, and sometimes crawls, through "Live Free or Die Hard" sure looks like John McClane. Older if apparently no wiser, the blue-collar super-cop from the "Die Hard" franchise has lost his hair, his foul mouth and apparently his nicotine itch, but he still has the same knack for trouble, the adrenaline-pumping, cheerfully anarchic kind that causes cars to ignite, bodies to fly, eardrums to pop and hearts to race and gladden. He's also lost his sneer, but sneering is cheap, and movies are expensive, especially when your star has pushed past 50 and slid off the power lists.

A lot has happened in the 12 years since Bruce Willis yippee-kai-yay-ed in "Die Hard With a Vengeance" with a glowering Samuel L. Jackson in tow. During that time Mr. Willis's star has expanded and collapsed through hits and duds and plenty of personal off-screen noise. The world has changed too, of course, and with it the action-flick coordinates: for one, Arnold Schwarzenegger runs California, while the sober, nonwisecracking likes of Matt Damon's Bourne rules the bad-boy roost. For another: Mr. Willis has become an increasingly appealing character actor, the kind who punches up a scene or two ("Alpha Dog," "Fast Food Nation") or an entire movie ("16 Blocks"), mostly by playing it not so nice and very easy.

Life or age or something has mellowed Mr. Willis. He no longer enters a movie like God's gift, as he did almost two decades ago in the first "Die Hard," lips pursed as if he alone were in on the joke — which, given the fat salary he was earning, perhaps he was. In "Live Free or Die Hard" he enters swinging, fist smashing through hard glass and sinking into soft flesh. He's making a point and so is the movie, namely that McClane (and Mr. Willis) is ready to earn our love again by performing the same lovably violent, meathead tricks as before. And look, he's not laughing, not exactly, even if the film ends up a goof.

An unexpectedly funny goof, at that, despite everything, including the mayhem and somewhat creepy plot. The screenplay attributed to Mark Bomback, who shares the story credit with David Marconi, has the whiff of multiple writers, as action-driven productions generally do. It originated with a 1997 story (dubiously titled "A Farewell to Arms") by John Carlin in Wired magazine about the potential for a cataclysmic, nation-crippling "information war," which mutated and stalled, picking up new writers and equally doubtful names . Somewhere along the development line, the real world intruded, which is why the original idea about an information war now includes a plausible-sounding or at least not entirely outlandish hook to Sept. 11 — hence, the creepiness.

In most Hollywood action movies, references to Sept. 11 as well as to the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan are often tacked on or displaced, used for decorative flag-waving or scenes of torture. "Live Free or Die Hard" tries to engage the real world more directly than most studio-made fantasies, with a logic-defying plot involving a disgruntled government security expert. That would be Thomas Gabriel, who seems partly inspired by the counterterrorism expert Richard A. Clarke and partly informed by Bill Gates and is wholly played by the pretty Timothy Olyphant, dressed in black and wearing Maggie Q on his arm. Mr. Olyphant has many charms, but annihilating menace is not one of them. Mr. Willis nonetheless keeps any incredulity in check along with his sneer.

Despite its jaw-jutting title, with its evocation of revolutionary America and radical individualism, "Live Free or Die Hard" keeps a tighter rein on McClane, dialing down his man-against-the-world attitude to a low hum. He's still more or less alone, at least existentially, though, as per the action playbook, he quickly picks up a sidekick and audience surrogate in the hacker impersonated by Justin Long (flicking between annoyance and amusement).

But McClane is also unequivocally playing for team America, helping the F.B.I. and its no-nonsense, supremely capable deputy director, Bowman (Cliff Curtis), who runs the sillily named cyber division with blinking monitors and scurrying minions. Heroic in deed and in acquaintance, Bowman knows to side with McClane, saving his contemptuous looks for the guy from Homeland Security.

Nothing on Len Wiseman's résumé — he previously directed the two "Underworld" flicks, wherein the Goth kids really are vampires — suggests that he could wrangle both Mr. Willis and this new film's nerve-jangling action to such satisfying effect. At least on the second count he has received terrific help from a sprawling cast of stuntmen and -women (and the stunt coordinator Brad Martin), who do a great deal to advance the film's old-school mayhem. The use of Parkour during several fight scenes is particularly tasty, proving that when cinematic push comes to shove, the French, who originated this ultra-cool rough-and-tumble, which finds performers bouncing like balls from wall to wall, rooftop to rooftop and many hair-raising points in between, are definitely in the coalition of the willing.

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The Cartoon which was waited by everybody!

2007-12-01T11:10:00.000-08:00

The Cartoon which was waited by everybody!

When it comes to The Simpsons, longevity is an asset few can ignore. 18 years old and counting, the TV series has carved its niche into pop culture. Most of today's high school students hadn't been born when The Simpsons debuted as filler on Tracey Ullman's variety show. It's no longer as fresh, as acerbic, and as popular as it once was, but could one expect anything else from a show that has turned out about 400 twenty-two minute episodes? It is a little odd that it has taken so long for The Simpsons to make the transition from the small screen to the big one; there has been talk about a movie since the mid-'90s. While nothing in this motion picture quite matches the television series at its early best, this is more of a throwback than a throw-away. It's wittier and more energetic than anything that has appeared on FOX in quite a few years.

The film's irreverence is at full throttle from the opening moments when Homer Simpson (voice of Dan Castellaneta) wonders aloud why anyone would be stupid enough to pay money to see something in a theater they can see for free on TV. Later, there's a none-too-subtle jab at FOX's aggressive style of self-promotion. The primary satirical targets are religion (an easy mark), environmentalists (also easy), and government stupidity (even easier). The Simpsons Movie does not go after hot button issues nor does it tie itself to a time and place by addressing current events. One senses that the filmmakers want their production to feel as fresh and timely in 2015 as in 2007.

For the most part, The Simpsons Movie is a series of rolling jokes. It's a little like Airplane in a sense - if something flops, the wait for the next gag isn't long. The film is heavy on comedy and parody and light on emotion, although there is a nice little arc in which Homer has an epiphany about the importance of family. That's about as serious as The Simpsons has ever gotten and it's certainly not going to bring tears to the eyes of many movie goers. People will flock to this picture because they want to enjoy the humor, and it delivers. I laughed aloud a number of times, and smiled and chuckled even more frequently.

There is a plot, although it's not going to be mistaken for Shakespeare. It is, however, surprisingly coherent when one considers that there are nearly a dozen credited screenwriters. When the government discovers that the levels of toxicity in Springfield's lake have reached critical levels (courtesy of a silo of "pig crap" dumped there by Homer), they quarantine the entire community. Homer and his family - wife Marge (Julie Kavner), son Bart (Nancy Cartwright), and daughters Lisa (Yeardley Smith) and Maggie - escape from Springfield and head to Alaska, where they decide to start anew. But when word reaches them that the government intends to do more than merely isolate their hometown, they take action.

Long-time fans of The Simpsons will be pleased to note that many of the series' recurring secondary characters have bit parts. They are well enough integrated that their inclusion won't bother Simpsons newbies. (Are there such people?) Harry Shearer and Hank Azaria do their usual yeoman's work as back-up vocalists. Star power comes from President Arnold Schwarzenegger (voice provided by Shearer) and Tom Hanks (voice provided by Tom Hanks). Hanks' participation is nothing new; over the years, the series has become a magnet for big-name cameos. You know you've arrived once you've appeared on The Simpsons.

Visually, not a lot has been done to "improve" the characters for the big screen. There are times when the animation is a little crisper and there is occasional evidence of CGI (such as during the Frankenstein-inspired scene with an angry mob), but no major tweaking has been accomplished. Fans of the series will feel at home; the theme song even makes an appearance or two. The producers of the TV program are the driving forces behind the motion picture and they have ascertained that nothing is done to disappoint the core audience.

If half the people who have ever enjoyed an episode of The Simpsons come to see the movie, this will be a huge hit. Fox is counting on big numbers; their marketing department is in overdrive. The film's PG-13 rating is a little misleading. With the exception of a little coarse language and a peep at Bart's underdeveloped cartoon genitals (shown as part of a hilariously over-the-top naked skateboarding sequence), there's nothing in the movie that couldn't be shown on TV. This isn't like South Park which, freed from the constraints of a more restrictive medium, pulled out all the stops. The Simpsons is interested in being a family film, although this is one of those rare animated occasions when adults are the primary audience. I, for one, couldn't be happier.

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Feel your speed

2007-10-30T14:42:00.000-07:00

Feel your speed

After all, movies (and movie fans) have always had a soft spot for whining engines and screeching tires. But these days the deeper bond between auto racing and popular moviemaking lies in a shared passion for corporate sponsorship. The vehicles in “Talladega Nights” — which was made with the cooperation of Nascar — are covered with logos and brand names, and the movie itself may break new records for product placements per frame.

It’s all in fun of course. As a good-hearted spoof of the folkways of stock-car racing, the movie is happy to mock the sport’s eagerness to sell prime uniform and chassis space to sponsors like Perrier, Wonder Bread and Old Spice. It also is tickled at the eating habits of its fast-driving characters, who wash down Domino’s Pizza and Kentucky Fried Chicken with Coca-Cola and Budweiser and, when they want a high-end night out, head for the nearest Applebee’s. You can be sure that all these companies paid handsomely for the privilege of such lampooning, which even extends to the movie’s single funniest joke, a suppertime blessing brought to you by PowerAde.

Really, though, the brand that powers this ragged, intermittently uproarious fusion of sketch-comedy goofing and driving around in circles is Will Ferrell, who wrote the screenplay (with Adam McKay, the director) and served as an executive producer, in addition to running around on a race track in his underpants. He does a lot more than that, needless to say, but Mr. Ferrell’s willingness to strip down to his skivvies is one of his trademarks.

It is also a rare movie-star display of solidarity with those American men who, whether out of laziness or principle, disdain sunlight, proper nutrition, body-hair maintenance and abdominal exercise. Part of Mr. Ferrell’s appeal is surely that he is one of them. O.K., one of us.

He also has a genius for sniffing out pop-cultural fixtures and embodying them in a way that goes beyond easy, obvious parody. Like Ron Burgundy, the hero of “Anchorman,” Ricky Bobby is at once a creature of pure, extravagant absurdity and a curiously vulnerable, sympathetic figure. The son of a “semi-professional stock car racer and amateur tattoo artist” played by Gary Cole, Ricky is born in the back seat of a speeding Chevelle and goes on to glory on the Nascar circuit. His sidekick and best buddy is Cal Naughton Jr. (John C. Reilly), a sweet, dim fellow content to come in second behind his pal. (Their motto, “shake and bake,” may be an honest homage to a popular product rather than a paid endorsement, but who really knows?) Ricky, by turns childlike and ferociously competitive, has some unresolved Daddy issues, which unfortunately weigh down the last third of “Talladega Nights” with perfunctory sentimentality.

Ricky and Cal are from North Carolina, home of the stock car king Richard Petty, and it requires no sensitivity training to recognize that they are stereotypes of a certain kind of Southern manhood. Not that anyone is likely to be too offended; from the old “Dukes of Hazzard” TV show to the songs of Toby Keith, caricature and Rebel pride tend to keep close company.

In any case the two good ol’ boys are soon confronted with a designated bad guy who incarnates an entirely antithetical stereotype — or, rather, invents a new one: the gay French Formula One driver. Jean Girard, as this nemesis is called, is played by Sacha Baron Cohen of “Ali G” fame with a demented sang-froid that suggests a synthesis of Peter Sellers and Pee-wee Herman. Mr. Cohen proves himself to be Mr. Ferrell’s equal and opposite, a comic dialectic sealed with the summer’s best on-screen kiss.

Like most movies of this kind, “Talladega Nights” is as good as its craziest riffs, which aren’t quite strong or various enough to fill out a whole feature. The funniest scenes have some of the improvised, pseudo-vérité flavor of Christopher Guest’s “Best in Show,” but Mr. Ferrell and Mr. McKay are less rigorous than Mr. Guest and his collaborators, preferring easy laughs to carefully turned comic insights. Still, at the high points — when Mr. Ferrell and Mr. Reilly start jawboning, when Leslie Bibb slyly steals a scene as Ricky’s frosty, gold-digging wife, when Mr. Reilly and Michael Clarke Duncan try to remove a fork from Mr. Ferrell’s thigh, or whenever Mr. Cohen opens his mouth — laughs are hard to suppress.

As a cultural artifact, “Talladega Nights” is both completely phony and, therefore, utterly authentic. Or, to put it differently: this movie is the real thing. It’s finger lickin’ good. It’s eatin’ good in the neighborhood. It’s the King of Beers. It’s Wonder Bread.

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Animation WORLD

2007-10-30T13:19:00.000-07:00

Animation WORLD
THE temptation to write about "Cars" using automotive metaphors may be unwise, but it's also irresistible. You could say, for instance, that the film — the first directed by the Pixar guru John Lasseter since the company's 1999 hit "Toy Story 2" — tools along at an easy clip, rather like a Volvo station wagon en route to another family vacation. At no point does it spin out of control, much less venture off-road. Instead, the film just putt, putt, putts along, a shining model of technological progress and consumer safety. But, as Ed (Big Daddy) Roth might say, chrome don't get you home and neither does 3D animation.
Mr. Roth was the creator of a delightfully unappetizing cartoon rodent called Rat Fink, a kind of anti-Mickey Mouse mascot for the hot-rod set. Given Pixar's carefully cultivated — and, for the most part, justified — reputation as a modestly maverick outfit, it would be nice to think that a decal of Rat Fink adorns the computers of at least a couple of the film's many, many animators. But both in its ingratiating vibe and bland execution, "Cars" is nothing if not totally, disappointingly new-age Disney, the story of a little cherry-red race car, Lightning McQueen (voiced by Owen Wilson), who can win the race of life only after he learns the value of friendship and the curvy appeal of Porsche Carrera (Bonnie Hunt).

Right off we know we're not in Kansas anymore or, for that matter, Monstropolis, home to the critters from "Monsters, Inc." or suburban Metroville, where the superheroic family in "The Incredibles" lives. The film opens at an enormous speedway, where some dozen candy-colored race cars, including Lightning McQueen, are whooshing around a track as thousands upon thousands of similarly polychromic jalopies cheer, wave flags and do the wave.

Welcome to Weirdsville, Cartoonland, where automobiles race — and rule — in a world that, save for a thicket of tall pines and an occasional scrubby bush, is freakishly absent any organic matter. Here, even the bugs singeing their wings on the porch light look like itty-bitty Volkswagen beetles.

That sounds like a slap and a tickle, and for a while it's both. As written by Mr. Lasseter, who shares screenwriting credit with Dan Fogelman, Joe Ranft, Kiel Murray, Phil Lorin and (whew) Jorgen Klubien, the film hinges on a premise older than the 1951 Hudson Hornet named Doc (Paul Newman), who gives the story its requisite geezer wisdom. After taking a wrong turn on his way to a race, McQueen lands in Radiator Springs, a town that time and the freeway forgot. There, on a derelict lick of asphalt, he meets a pileup of metal and ethnic clichés, including a tow truck with a deep-fried accent (Larry the Cable Guy as Mater) and a lowrider that apparently hopped in from East L.A. (Cheech Marin as Ramone).

This ethnic and cultural profiling is pretty much par for the animated film course, hence Jenifer Lewis, as a two-tone 1950's ride with big fins called Flo, provides the only identifiable "black" voice. Less wince-inducing are Luigi (Tony Shalhoub), a banana-yellow Italian-accented Fiat that runs the local tire store; Sarge (Paul Dooley), a World War II jeep as memorable and colorful as dung; and Fillmore (George Carlin), a VW bus who extols the virtues of organic fuel, mutters about conspiracies and raises the Stars and Stripes to the guitar squeals of Jimi Hendrix.

Given the film's regrettably retro attitude toward all things automotive (not a hybrid in sight!), it's no surprise that Fillmore, this desert outpost's most credible resident, is also its designated kook.
An animated fable about happy cars might have made sense before gas hit three bucks a gallon, but even an earlier sticker date couldn't shake the story's underlying creepiness, which comes down to the fact that there's nothing alive here: nada, zip. In this respect, the film can't help but bring to mind James Cameron's dystopic masterpiece, "The Terminator," which hinges on the violent war of the machine world on its human masters. To watch McQueen and the other cars motor along the film's highways and byways without running into or over a single creature is to realize that, in his cheerful way, Mr. Lasseter has done Mr. Cameron one better: instead of blowing the living world into smithereens, these machines have just gassed it with carbon monoxide.

Rendering plausible human forms remains one of 3D animation's biggest hurdles, something that Pixar directors like Andrew Stanton ("Finding Nemo") have readily admitted. As if realizing that they can't (yet) compete with nature, Pixar filmmakers tend to avoid the human form or create caricatures that, by virtue of their very exaggeration (think of the middle-age spread bedeviling Mr. Incredible's wife), are wonderfully lifelike.

With his machine world, however, Mr. Lasseter appears to have tried to do an end run around the vexing problem of the human body with cars that might as well have come out of a Chevron advertisement. Even stranger, the film turns Detroit's paving over of America into an occasion for some nostalgic historical revisionism. Surreal isn't the word.

Over the last two decades Pixar has invigorated American mainstream animation with charming stories and sterling technique, reaching a company best with the consecutively released "Monsters, Inc.," "Finding Nemo" and "The Incredibles." The age of Pixar may not be as golden as that of 1930's and 40's Disney, but it's an estimable run, especially since each new Pixar feature has reached deeper and higher in thematic and aesthetic preoccupations.

Like classic Disney, Pixar films are invariably traditionalist, with stories of familial and social retrenchment, but they're also witty and playful, fresh in both graphic and written line. One clunker won't shut down or even threaten the factory line, but here's hoping that as this onetime scrapper becomes increasingly entrenched and establishment, it keeps its geeks-and-freaks flag flying.

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Reality of business

2007-10-30T12:59:00.000-07:00

Reality of business

Prolific director Sidney Lumet, now 81, is in top form with his latest, superbly made and raucously entertaining new film, “Find Me Guilty.” He sure knows how to make a movie, from spinning a riveting story and perfection in casting to creating a visually compelling ambiance. I use his book “Making Movies” in film classes that I teach because Lumet lucidly examines each aspect of doing a movie and illustrates the know-how with examples from his own work. “Find Me Guilty” is a prime illustration of how to do everything right.

The film is based on real characters and the real 1987-88 trial in New Jersey involving the Lucchese crime family. The trial lasted nearly two years. If you don’t know the outcome, I won’t spoil the film’s suspense by ratting. Central to the cast was a colorful criminal named Giacomo “Jackie Dee” DiNorscio who, already serving a 30-year-sentence involving drugs, decided to handle his own defense and turned the proceedings upside down and inside out. He described himself a gagster, not a gangster. (The real Jackie died during the filming.)

A major part of the good news is that Lumet cast Vin Diesel in the role of Jackie, and the director, known for his great work with actors, gets a performance out of Diesel that deserves to loom as one of the best of the year when we head into to the next awards period. Diesel rises to the occasion in a challenging, unusual part and gives a commanding, colorful performance that becomes the film’s center.

The rest of the film is also cast astutely, down to the most minor role. Excellent actor Peter Dinklage (“The Station Agent” on film and “Richard III” on stage) is suave and forceful as a defense attorney, making an impact beyond his size (he’s a dwarf), and it is a wonderful touch every time a court attendant has to wheel a special podium up for him to mount. Annabella Sciorra has a sizzling scene as Jackie’s wife, angrily rebellious but still with a flash of loyalty after he has cheated on her so many times. Ron Silver as the judge is measured but firm in the face of the difficulty in keeping his courtroom under control. Linus Roache is a bit over the edge as the prosecutor who has so much riding on the case, but it may be justified in view of how frustrated he is at not being able to get Jackie to become an informer and running into so many problems while pursuing the most important case of his career.

Inevitably, some may think of “The Sopranos” but this is a story with far more scope. It does include elements of mob life, but the real issues involve a face off with the government in a boisterous trial. Those in the dock are not Mr. Nice Guys, and yet the sleaziness of the government witnesses and the nerve of Jackie, who is shunned by other defendants worrying about his antics, results in a dilemma for the viewer. There is the temptation to root for the defense over the prosecution. It’s a tribute to the filmmaking that one can get so caught up in the drama, its cast of characters and the courtroom atmosphere.

The screenplay by T. J. Mancini and Robert McCrea uses actual testimony from the trial as part of the fictionalization. In order to accommodate the size of the trial in terms suitable for filming,--20 defendants, 20 defense attorneys and eight jury alternates—a specially wide courtroom was built in a warehouse in Bayonne, N.J. The success of the film lies partly in the details, and everything clicks brilliantly into place.

“Find Me Guilty” is another important addition to Lumet’s work, encompassing such memorable films as “The Pawnbroker,” “12 Angry Men,” “Dog Day Afternoon,” “Network,” “The Verdict,” “Serpico,” “Fail Safe,” “Long Day’s Journey Into Night” and “Daniel,” to list but a few of his achievements. It is interesting to note that Lumet keeps up with the latest technology; he shot this film on high-definition video. A Yari Film Group Releasing release.

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Revival of a life

2007-10-30T10:06:00.000-07:00

Revival of a life

High on the list of the year's corniest symbolic acts in a Hollywood movie is the freeing of a grizzly bear from its cage in the contemporary western "An Unfinished Life." And what exactly does the liberation of the beast from a makeshift rural zoo signify? In this solemn, sentimental bore of a movie that suffocates in its own predictability and watered-down psychobabble, it presages Oprah-worthy healing and imminent family togetherness after years of strife.

If nothing else, the arrival of "An Unfinished Life" close on the heels of Werner Herzog's documentary "Grizzly Man" certifies 2005 as the year of the bear in Hollywood animal fashion. With all due compliments to Mr. Herzog's incisive portrait of a narcissistic nature boy out of touch with the natural world, "An Unfinished Life" suggests that the time has come to impose an immediate cinematic moratorium on these creatures, symbolic or otherwise, real or computerized. (This one, sometimes played by Bart the Bear, is both.)

Before its capture and release, the bear in question lurks on the Wyoming ranch where Einar Gilkyson (Robert Redford), a farmer and recovering alcoholic, has been stewing in bitterness over the death of his son, Griffin, 12 years earlier. Einar, who regularly visits Griffin's grave to mumble sweet nothings into the hereafter, shares the property with Mitch Bradley (Morgan Freeman), his farm hand of four decades who was seriously mauled by the animal a year before the story begins. Einar waits on Mitch hand and foot, massages his painful but fake-looking scars and administers his daily shots of morphine.

Mitch, in turn, gently tries to rouse Einar from his funk. This is the latest film in which Mr. Freeman plays a saintly African-American sage, and the stereotype has become as grating as Sidney Poitier's Perfect Negro of the 1960's.

"An Unfinished Life" begins in Iowa, where Einar's daughter-in-law, Jean (Jennifer Lopez), beaten up by her abusive boyfriend, Gary (Damian Lewis), flees for Wyoming with her 11-year-old daughter, Griff (Becca Gardner). When she shows up on the Gilkyson homestead, she is less than welcome. Einar blames Jean for his son's death because she drove the car in the accident that killed him.

But until Jean appears, Einar doesn't know he has a granddaughter. During the rest of the movie, Einar's heart slowly thaws as he forms an attachment to Griff, whom he teaches how to throw a rope and to drive his battered pickup truck. Can a happy, bugs-in-a-rug family be far behind?

An adaptation of Mark Spragg's novel of the same title, "An Unfinished Life" was directed by Lasse Hallstrom from a screenplay Mr. Spragg wrote with his wife, Virginia Korus Spragg. It is the latest Miramax film to be dumped into the marketplace as the studio empties its back catalog after the departure of the Weinstein brothers from the helm.

It also signifies the final descent into ponderous, cliché-ridden pseudo-profundity by a filmmaker who became the studio's go-to guy to direct Oscar-seeking middlebrow kitsch ("Chocolat," "The Shipping News"). His gradual softening into a director of Hallmark-style sentimentality offers a cautionary case study of an artist succumbing to the bottom-line mentality of Hollywood.

That mentality must account for the presence of Ms. Lopez, who plays the same battered woman she did three years ago in "Enough," but under a different name. In both movies, she finds an identical (and phony) balance of vulnerability and toughness. After an initial skirmish with her ratty boyfriend, Jean walks around with a nasty wound on her chin. But a couple of scenes later, it has all but disappeared, the better to allow Ms. Lopez to slink about in a sexy peasant blouse and be a Hollywood babe with perfect hair, creamy makeup and a rustic wardrobe.

Gary tracks Jean down to the Gilkyson homestead, and in the movie's most poorly written scenes explodes within seconds of seeing her. But the film provides Jean with a buffer and handy antidote to her suspicion of men in the person of the hunky local sheriff, Crane Curtis (Josh Lucas), who seems to have been hanging around all these years just waiting for her to show up. It also grants her sisterhood as she bonds with Nina (Camryn Manheim), a local waitress, who offers her shelter after a row with Einar.

Mr. Redford appears to have recovered from whatever happened to his face several years ago, when it looked as if a bad eye job had turned his expression into a sinister squint. He gives a careful, measured performance that avoids making Einar, at his worst, the sort of crazed misanthrope the character would be if viewed without rose-colored glasses. But we've also seen this performance before.

"An Unfinished Life" is further undermined by Christopher Young's relentless, folksy soundtrack. The musical equivalent of synthetic gingham (yards of it) strung up on a plastic clothesline, it brings you as close to the spirit of the West as a visit to a Ralph Lauren store.

"An Unfinished Life" is rated PG-13 (Parents strongly cautioned). It has some strong language and mild violence.

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Straighten up and die right

2007-10-29T11:04:00.000-07:00

Straighten up and die right

Though not exactly prolific, Shane Black quickly carved himself a niche in Hollywood through the 80s and 90s. His name is synonymous with buddy action comedies, his screenplays turning the genre on its head with unconventional setups and setting standards with witty one-liners. Lethal Weapon, The Last Boy Scout and The Long Kiss Goodnight all paired a relatively stable ‘minority’ character (in each of those cases a black male) with an unstable white character and combined clever dialogue with unexpected twists on the conventions of the genre.

With his debut directorial effort, Black has stuck to a similar formula with Kiss Kiss Bang Bang by pairing the stable Gay Perry (Val Kilmer) with the neurotic petty thief turned actor Harry (Robert Downey Jr), only this time he is also messing with a second genre: film noir. Film noir conventions are introduced and almost immediately turned around. Harry’s opening monologue begins as a classic noir voiceover but he quickly changes from the hard-boiled hard-done-by enigma we expect from the genre into a wise-cracker, fully aware of his own character flaws. He then attempts to light a cigarette Sam Spade-style and falls foul of the modern LA attitude to smoking in public.

The story itself is intentionally complex and centres on Harry, who teams up with Gay Perry to learn to be a detective for a role in a film but quickly becomes embroiled in a web of murder and deceit for real. The viewer is thrown around with improbable twists and coincidences coming one after another and then challenged by Harry in his voiceover to work out what’s going on. By that point I wasn’t too bothered about the plot, I was just enjoying the great dialogue between Harry and Gay Perry.

”This isn’t good cop, bad cop. This is fag and New Yorker.”

Shane Black loves to play around with the audience’s expectations by presenting them with a typical setup, then completely changing what usually happens in every other action movie. Nowhere is this more evident than in a scene where Harry and Perry are pressing one of the bad guys for information and Harry decides to take the Russian roulette route, by putting one bullet in a six-shooter and spinning the barrel. I don’t want to give too much away but he doesn’t pull the trigger six times to find the bullet...

Black has an obvious love for film noir (the chapters of the movie are named after Raymond Chandler novels) but he also makes his feelings for Hollywood in general known. Man, that guy really hates everything and everyone in his neighbourhood. Anger frequently breeds great comedy and this is no exception. In Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Hollywood is populated by vacuous blonde bimbos and old, over-tanned men trying to look like movie stars, all designed to make us laugh and cut close to the bone of the inhabitants of 90210. He also uses this view of the world to comment on the way films are made, especially the way second-choice actors are only used to ‘get Colin Farrell down by $2million’.

”I’ll be over there with the native American Joe Pesci.”

There’s a lot to recommend in Kiss Kiss Bang Bang for the casual viewer. It’s very funny at times, has two great central performances and there’s plenty of action and intrigue but at the risk of being drawn through the streets and stoned to death for being a film snob, I’d say there’s more to appreciate for viewers already well-versed in the conventions of film noir so if you who know Detour from De-Lovely you should add an extra point onto the feature score. That said, I was still hoping for a little more from Shane Black’s first feature as a director. Since he has voiced his varying opinions of the previous adaptations of his work, it’s slightly disappointing to see that the style of Kiss Kiss Bang Bang is not a million miles away from those films.

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Improbable story

2007-10-29T10:38:00.000-07:00

Improbable story

For about half a decade, Batman was a dirty word at Warner Bros. Once a marquee franchise, a flamboyant director (Joel Schumacher) drove the caped crusader into the ground, deeply angering fans and critics with the schlocky Batman & Robin in 1997. After flirting with Batman Vs. Superman in an attempt to resurrect both superheroes, the studio took a page out of 20th Century Fox's (X-Men) book and hired an auteur rather than a hit-maker. Warner Bros. made smart casting decisions and managed to get enough of the right people involved to convince the franchise's detractors that this time would be different. But just how different it is may come as a shock to everyone.

Batman Begins is a true origin story. Not a detail is glossed over, such as in Tim Burton's first Batman film. Nolan's vision starts with Bruce Wayne as a boy. Attacked by bats on his property, Bruce develops a lifelong fear of the creatures. He becomes even more paranoid about the world around him after witnessing his parents' murder. When a chance to kill the man who committed the crime is foiled years later by local mob boss Carmine Falcone (Tom Wilkinson), Wayne (Bale) disappears to Asia for seven years. There, he meets The League Of Shadows, a group of highly skilled ninjas who claim to influence history by trying to create equilibrium in the world's biggest cities. Wayne trains with League leader Ducard, but when he learns they intend to destroy his hometown, Gotham City, he turns his back on the ninjas, destroying their temple and fleeing for home to fight crime under a new moniker, Batman.

I'd love to go into more plot details, but there is just too much going on in this film. In much the same way that Robert Rodriguez's take on Frank Miller's Sin City was like a graphic novel experience, director Christopher Nolan (Memento) one-ups him by presenting much of the back-story like a series of vignettes that actually evoke comic book pages. Nolan aces Batman with such deft accuracy that Warner Bros. better sign him up for another two movies before he gets bored and decides to go back to indie films.

Bale brings to Batman what Kilmer, Clooney and even Keaton couldn't — menace. He's the first truly frightening Batman, but then this movie also features the scariest villain in the history of the franchise, Scarecrow (Cillian Murphy). Bale's dry humour and composure make him a perfect choice for the playboy Wayne. Fans wanted him for years and he doesn't disappoint. Michael Caine nails Alfred, Wayne's ever-present butler, while Gary Oldman is perfectly subtle as Lieut. (and future Commissioner) Jim Gordon. Ms. Tom Cruise, er, Katie Holmes is shockingly not bad as Wayne's lifelong friend, assistant district attorney Rachel Dawes, though some of the development of their relationship makes absolutely no sense at all.

Given some time, Batman Begins will likely outdistance Batman Returns (Burton) as the best ever in the series. But move over Spider-Man: the potential that the key players — Nolan, Bale, Oldman and Caine — have put into place here could make a new series of Batman films the standard against which all future superhero movies are measured.

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OUR REALITY

2007-10-28T11:08:00.000-07:00

OUR REALITY
Welcome to my double feature, Flags of Our Fathers . Although they're in separate reviews, I seem to compare them a lot. This makes sense as they were released as companion movies and deal with the same subject in a broad sort of way. We saw Flags of Our Fathers before Letters from Iwo Jima, that was the order they were released in, and I'm writing this review first, so bear that all that in mind.

Flags of Our Fathers is one of the two war movies released in 2006 by Clint Eastwood. The movies made a lot of press and certainly got a lot of awards talk going, which really isn't a surprise, because well-made war movies always make press and get awards talk going. Focusing on the Pacific front of World War II, and most specifically the Battle of Iwo Jima, Flags of Our Fathers presents the American perspective. Sort of.

I say "sort of" because Flags of Our Fathers is two movies in one. On the one hand, it's the story of the Battle of Iwo Jima from the American perspective. On the other hand, it's also the story of the iconic photograph of soldiers raising the American flag, and the post-war lives of some of the photographed men. Much of the movie takes place back on American soil as three of the flag raisers tour the country, trying to raise money for the war. But wait, you say. There were at least six men in the photograph! Yes, well. Remember these men toured the United States after the Battle of Iwo Jima.

Rene Gagnon (Jesse Bradford), John Bradley (Ryan Phillippe), and Ira Hayes (Adam Beach) are the three survivors who are on tour. In classic war story tradition, at least two of these three guys are not big names. (And if for some reason you think of Ryan Phillippe as a Dawson's Creek/boy band type of actor, which for some bizarre reason I did, this is a good time to reevaluate that opinion.) The three men respond to their newfound fame very differently. Gagnon is ready to embrace it, Bradley accepts it as best he can, and Hayes resents it, especially as he feels he did nothing spectacular to be honored for. Interlaced with the story of the tour are flashbacks of the battle and the story of the flag raising photograph.

I was of two minds about Flags of Our Fathers, mainly because it was two movies. Movie 1, the story of the tour and how the men in question handled their fame, was extremely interesting and an unexamined angle (movie-wise) of World War II. I really enjoyed this part of the movie, and watching how the war and being in this famous photograph, affected the boys and how they dealt with it. The acting was excellent, the emotions were ranged and real, and it struck me as very honest, neither stripping away glory nor adding to it. This part of the movie really made me think of my reaction to Jarhead, where I thought that the movie did an excellent job presenting the Marines as individuals and young men, not as stereotypes.

Movie 2, however, the Battle of Iwo Jima, I did not like. This wasn't because it was necessarily bad, per se. But it was extremely graphic and intense. You know that first forty five minutes of Saving Private Ryan, where they storm Normandy Beach? Exactly like that. In fact, Stephen Spielberg was one of the producers, and this was one spot where I really think it showed. I felt EXACTLY like I did watching that scene in Saving Private Ryan. Some of you will think that's a good thing. Some of you will not. (Incidentally, Stephen Spielberg MUST be one of the world's leading experts on World War II by now, wouldn't you think? And I do mean that seriously, because the man seems to have researched it exhaustively.)

For me, I found it too gory, too violent. Yes, war is violent, I know. But there also comes a point where the violence and the gore become so overwhelming that I find myself distracted from the story and spending more energy trying not to throw up than caring about the characters. I was very close to asking Duckie to turn it off and watch it the next day without me. I'm glad I didn't, because I really did like Movie 1 and found it very powerful. But the battle scenes were too much for me. Some of you are reading this and saying, "yeah, well, you have a weak stomach," and I'm glad you are. This is a line that's in a different place for each person, so a lot of people may not have as much of an issue with it as I did. Sure, it adds realism, but I thought it added it at the expense of the story.

But the feeling Flags of Our Fathers evoked in me was one of great sadness. I'll probably never get around to reviewing Saving Private Ryan, so let me say that Saving Private Ryan and parts of Band of Brothers also had the same effect. It's just the realization of, on a personal level, how bloody STUPID war is. I find it very hard — and very sad — to watch these young men sent to war, to storm the beach, and then to die before they even set foot on dry land. They were literal canon fodder. It seems like such a waste of a life, just to be shot as soon as you faced the enemy. I know it still seems like a waste later, but any war movie that gets me to care about the characters will make me feel like this. I realize I'm not well-versed in politics. I know there are reasons for war. But I can't help but think there shouldn't be.

I do respect the choices these young men made, if they had a choice. (Sorry. You're NOT going to get me to like the draft.) But Flags of Our Fathers just really drove home how badly war screws people up. I don't think I could be in the military, because I don't think I could hack it. Aside from the very real danger of death and having to watch your friends die, Flags of Our Fathers also focused on doing things you weren't proud of later in life. It takes someone very strong and dedicated to deal with that. But then, I suppose you do it because you have to. One thing being a parent teaches you — it's amazing what you can do because you have to do it. War must teach that lesson a thousand times over.

Because of the violence aspect, I vastly preferred Letters from Iwo Jima. I do think Flags of Our Fathers was a good movie, but I also felt that Movie 2 has been done before. I am very glad we watched Flags of Our Fathers first, for several reasons. For one, I think it gave the background information on the battle in a more accessible way. But for two, I think we as a country aren't used to thinking of the other side so much, and the Japanese were presented in Flags of Our Fathers exactly as the Americans would have seen them. To see that brief, cursory depiction and then the depth presented in Letters from Iwo Jima was really powerful.

It's not the best World War II movie I've ever seen — look to Spielberg for that — but it's one of the better ones. Definitely worth the rent. Just don't watch it right before you go to sleep.

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LIKE COMIC BOOK

2007-10-28T06:49:00.000-07:00

LIKE COMIC BOOK

Sin City is the most visually inventive comic book adaptation to make its way to a movie screen. While other directors have attempted to remain faithful to the look and "feel" of their source material, Robert Rodriguez has taken things a step further, by using Frank Miller's graphic novels as storyboards and immersing the audience neck-deep in the noir currents of Miller's den of iniquity. It's easy to get lost in Sin City. There's something to appreciate around every corner - the gritty characters, the uncompromising story, and, most of all, visuals to astound and amaze. "Eye candy" doesn't even begin to describe what Rodriguez has accomplished.

Black-and-white is the best format for film noir, and Rodriguez recognizes that - not that anyone would mistake this picture, with its kinetic energy and restless camera, for a relic of the '40s or '50s. However, what the director offers here is b&w with bells and whistles. Sin City is full of color flashes - the red of a dress or a woman's lipstick, the blue or green of someone's eyes, the blond of a hooker's hair, the orange of fire, or the yellow of a lowlife's skin. Then there's the blood - and there's a lot of that. Blood is either represented as a florescent white or, more frequently, in its natural color. In fact, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to describe Sin City using the old clichй, "black and white and red all over."

With a movie of this ilk, where the style trumps substance, it's easy to come up with something that engages the eyes more than the mind. Fortunately, that's not the case here. Rodriguez and Miller give us a rogue's gallery of memorable heroes and anti-heroes, and make sure that all three of the film's primary episodes are fast-paced and engaging. There's a little of Pulp Fiction in Sin City, both in the hipness and the sense of discovery. Pulp Fiction provided a bigger jolt, but Sin City isn't far behind.

Aside from the decision to shoot in black-and-white, there are plenty of things to announce Sin City as modern-day noir. There's a running voiceover narrative that's about a pulpy as one can imagine, right to the frequent use of the word "dames" to describe women. (Sin City exists out of time, in a world where elements of nearly every decade of the last century are represented in one way or another.) Ties and coats flap in the breeze, with the latter billowing behind running men like bat wings. And nearly every cool character in the film drives a convertible (unless a "flat-top" is specifically requested) and smokes without concern about the health risks. (Of course, for characters that get shot six or seven times, then come back for more, conventional medical issues don't pose much of a problem - although Hartigan has angina.)

The movie attracted an impressive array of talent, including some of the biggest up-and-coming names in Hollywood, as well as a few established stars, and one has-been on the comeback trail. A lesser movie with this kind of high-octane cast could have become bogged down by the "spot the star" syndrome, but Sin City engrosses to the point where we're no longer watching actors with names, but the characters they are playing. For example, when we see Elijah Wood, we're not thinking of Frodo Baggins. And Bruce Willis isn't John McClane. More than anything else, that's a testimony to how well Rodriguez does his job.

There are three lead male characters - one to anchor each of the trio of episodes that form Sin City's structure. For the most part, these individuals do not cross over and invade each other's stories, although the same cannot be said of the other personalities inhabiting Basin City. Bruce Willis plays Hartigan, a tough-talking cop at the end of a career in a place where honest guys like him are hard to find. Before accepting his pension, however, Hartigan wants to solve one last case and save an 11-year old girl from the clutches of a serial murderer/rapist (Nick Stahl). He succeeds, at least to a point, but pays a terrible price in the process.

Elsewhere in the city, the burly, ugly Marv (Mickey Rourke) finds comfort in the arms of a beautiful blonde named Goldie (Jamie King), but when he wakes up the next morning, he discovers that she has been murdered and he has been framed for the crime. Determined to avenge her, Marv pursues a violent, murderous course that takes him to the heart of Basin City's power structure, and seals his fate.

Finally, there's Dwight (Clive Owen), a wanted man with a new face who helps out the city's prostitutes when they accidentally kill a sleazeball cop, Jack Rafferty (Benicio Del Toro). Rafferty's demise threatens the uneasy truce that exists in Old Town between the mob, the police, and the hookers. Dwight agrees to hide the body before the cops figure out what has happened, but a group of mobsters have other ideas, and kidnap Dwight's girlfriend, Gail (Rosario Dawson), as a means to thwart him.

Another notable performer is Jessica Alba, whose career is in the process of going from red-hot to white-hot, as the stripper Nancy. Although she shows less skin than either Carla Gugino (as Marv's lesbian parole officer) or Jamie King, her allure more than makes up for it. (Alba apparently attended the same stripper school as Natalie Portman - the one where the clothing stays on.) Model-turned-actress Devon Aoki has a role that doesn't challenge her thespian skills. She says nary a word but does some nasty things with swords and other bladed instruments.

This is very much Rodriguez's film - like most of his other projects, it was "shot and cut" by him. He is quick to give Frank Miller equal credit, indicating that although the camerawork was his, Miller's contribution was so great that he deserves to be recognized as a co-director. The Director's Guild disagreed, and Rodriguez ended up resigning over the dispute. Quentin Tarantino is listed as a "Special Guest Director," whatever that means. Apparently, Tarantino shot one (or more) of the film's scenes, but I couldn't begin to guess which one. Any contribution by the Kill Bill filmmaker blends seamlessly into the overall production, never calling attention to itself.

Rumor has it that some of the studio executives behind Sin City were looking for a way to get the film a PG-13 rating. Having seen the final cut, it's mind-boggling to believe that such a watered-down version was ever considered. The violence in this movie may be stylized, but there's far too much of it for the MPAA to consider a PG-13. Plus, there's plenty of nudity: Jamie King bares her breasts and Carla Gugino spends about 50% of her limited screen time wearing little or nothing. I'm glad Rodriguez stuck to his guns; a PG-13 version of Sin City would have been a crime. The one that exists is a pleasure.

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Back to Their Feature

2007-10-27T08:48:00.000-07:00

Back to Their Feature

The essence of “Grindhouse,” Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino’s exuberant, uneven tribute to the spirit of trash cinema, is distilled in a scene from “Death Proof,” Mr. Tarantino’s feature-length contribution to the project. Two vintage American muscle cars, already scuffed and dented from chasing each other along back roads and two-lane blacktops, descend, engines whining and tires squealing, onto a highway full of late-model minivans, S.U.V.’s and family sedans, all of them driving safely within the lines and the speed limit.

It’s a great car chase, but it’s also a metaphor. “Grindhouse,” soaked in bloody nostalgia for the cheesy, disreputable pleasures of an older form of movie entertainment, can also be seen as a passionate protest against the present state of the entertainment industry. Those Detroit relics, modified with loving care in someone’s garage or backyard, may waste gas and burn oil, but they seem to have an individuality — a soul — that the homogeneous new vehicles, with their G.P.S. and their cruise control, their computer chips and their air bags, can never hope to match.

And “Grindhouse” argues, with more enthusiasm than coherence, for the integrity of a certain kind of old movie. Not the stuff that finds its way into the Classics section of the video store, but the kind that the guys behind the counter are always talking about: cheap, nasty slasher films, sleazy sexploitation pictures, gimcrack sci-fi epics starring people you never heard of. Just about anything, in short, with the right combination of topless women, gory, pointless violence and inspired amateurism. Also car chases.

Really, though, what Mr. Rodriguez and Mr. Tarantino try to evoke is less a particular style or genre of moviemaking than a lost ambience of moviegoing. “Grindhouse” consists of a double feature (“Death Proof” preceded by Mr. Rodriguez’s “Planet Terror”) accompanied by trailers for nonexistent coming attractions (with titles like “Machete” and “Werewolf Women of the SS”) and beset by technical difficulties. Each of the features is missing a reel — the management apologizes for the inconvenience — and of course it’s the reel with the sex in it, which the projectionist probably stole for his own amusement. The prints are full of scratches, bad splices and busted sprocket holes, and the images are not always in focus.

It’s all a pretty good joke, especially since most of these glitches, artifacts of an earlier technological era, have been produced digitally. (Unfortunately the software application has not yet been developed that can simulate clouds of stale cigarette smoke in the projector beam, broken seats and sticky, smelly floors at your local multiplex.) The filmmakers are at once bad boys and grumpy old men, effortlessly adept at manipulating new-fangled gadgets even as they sigh over the way things were in the good old days.

Their approach is both broadly populist and fussily esoteric. It doesn’t take a cinephile to appreciate, say, the sight of in skimpy go-go dancer get-up, or to be repulsed by the spectacle of zombies with melting, pustulant faces feasting on human flesh. But the obsessive crosshatching of Rose Mcgoan allusion, spoof and homage that gives “Grindhouse” its texture is the product of a highly refined generational sensibility.

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THE WORLD OF MYSTERY

2007-10-26T13:44:00.000-07:00

THE WORLD OF MYSTERY

Brooking no argument, history should quickly regard Peter Jackson’s The Fellowship Of The Ring as the first instalment of the best fantasy epic in motion picture history. This statement is worthy of investigation for several reasons.

Fellowship is indeed merely an opening salvo, and even after three hours in the dark you will likely exit the cinema ravenous with anticipation for the further two parts of the trilogy. Fellowship is also unabashedly rooted in the fantasy genre. Not to be confused with the techno-cool of good science fiction, nor even the cutesy charm of family fare like Harry Potter, the territory of Tolkien is clearly marked by goo and goblins and gobbledegook. Persons with an aversion to lines such as, “To the bridge of Khazad-dûm!” are as well to stay within the Shire-like comforts of home (their loss).

With those caveats in place, it bears repeating: fantasy does not come finer. There are electrifying moments — notably the computer-assisted swooping camera through Isengard as it transforms into a factory for evil — when Jackson’s flight of fancy approaches the sublime as the romantic poets would understand it: inspiring awe.

Leaving aside the thorny issue of Tolkien die-hards and their inevitable gripes — “What no Tom Bombadil?” — Jackson’s screenplay (written in collaboration with Fran Walsh and Phillipa Boyens) is both bolder and more judicious than Steven Kloves’ surprisingly timid retread of Harry Potter. In particular, rescuing the romance of Arwen and Aragorn from the footnotes and the elevation of Saruman to all-action bad guy actually has a corrective influence on Tolkien’s often oblique and female-sparse source material.

There are problems, though. The three-hour running time is high on incident and low on discernible form. After successive detours to Elf habitats Rivendell (the watery home of Elrond) and Lothlórien (the forest home of the Lady Galadriel), the uninitiated might well ask why these crazy Elf kids can’t just live together and spare us all this attenuated dramatic structure.

More importantly, the action clearly climaxes in the desperate flight from the Mines Of Moria, where the largely seamless SFX is showcased in the best possible light — total darkness — but the narrative demands a different, downbeat ending. Indeed, but for some fine emotional playing from Bean, Mortensen, Astin and Wood, the final fight might feel like a particularly brutal game of paintball in Bluebell Wood. But then, the real battles are yet to come...

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Their wounderful relations

2007-10-26T13:16:00.000-07:00

Their wounderful relations

Will pre-match sexual hijinks give you the edge you need to win at tennis? Or will they distract you from mobilizing the killer instinct essential to victory? That's the earth-shattering question at the heart of "Wimbledon," a likable, formulaic sports movie that follows the miraculous comeback of an insecure 31-year-old British tennis pro, Peter Colt (Paul Bettany), whose career resurrects on the wings of love.

In the eight years since Peter placed 11th in the international tennis rankings, he has sunk to 119th. At Wimbledon, where he's playing his last professional matches before taking a job as a tennis instructor at a fancy club, he meets and falls in love with an American tennis pro, Lizzie Bradbury (Kirsten Dunst). A super-competitive athlete, on the fast track to the women's championship, Lizzie appears unstoppable until Paul enters her life. As her defenses start to crumble, her concentration falters and the trajectories of their careers unexpectedly reverse. Paul credits Lizzie with spurring his triumphs, while she bitterly blames him for her fall from grace.

"Wimbledon's" most refreshing idea is to present a sports hero who doesn't see himself primarily as an invincible fighting machine. Peter, who narrates the movie and whose jumbled interior thoughts are heard at tense moments, has a mind and a soul as well as a body. He is courtly, witty, sensitive and apologetic to a fault, but he is no smoothie.

Until she meets him, Lizzie is a snippy, wisecracking know-it-all pursuing the win-at-all-costs agenda of her pushy father, Dennis (Sam Neill). Dennis immediately perceives Peter as a threat and tries to keep him away from his daughter, but he won't be stopped. Lizzie is adept enough at compartmentalizing her life to have enjoyed a number of meaningless flings on the road without becoming distracted. She is all business when she first sleeps with Paul. When she loses control, she loses her temper.

Ms. Dunst projects the lithe physical grace of a born athlete, but she has a delicate line to tread to keep Lizzie sympathetic. Her skill at balancing Lizzie's smugness and vulnerability is a tricky feat she carries off by portraying her conflicting urges as the suppressed inner tug of war by someone too self-disciplined for melodrama. Until she cracks, the conflict registers mostly as subtle, telling changes in expression and body language.

Although the movie shows only fleeting glimpses of Lizzie in action, a good portion of Peter's screen time is spent sweating on the court. The tennis scenes, though credible, are pumped up and stretched out for suspense and embellished with dramatic glitches: an official's wrong call, a sudden downpour and several falls.

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THE MOVIE ONLY FOR A REAL MEN

2007-10-25T12:37:00.000-07:00

THE MOVIE ONLY FOR A REAL MEN

Every society gets the biker movie it deserves. A repressed 1950’s America was visited with its first taste of teenage rebellion in “The Wild One,” while a country on the verge of a full-blown plastic fantastic freak-out in 1966 was treated to “The Wild Angels.” In 1984, when MTV was showing us all that good hair was more important to music than actual singing, we got the pretty but largely brainless “Streets of Fire” (yes, I realize I’m stretching the ‘biker movie’ definition a bit), and a country glutted on extreme sports and crappy computer-generated racing F/X enjoyed “Biker Boyz” in 2003.

That said, it stands to reason that the United States of 2007, a nation consisting largely of indolent anti-intellectuals force-fed a steady diet of PG-13 comedy and sterile, Disney-fied entertainment should be subjected to “Wild Hogs,” an indolent, PG-13, Disney “biker” flick that does for comedies what Exxon did for Prince William Sound.
Lest anyone think I’m being needlessly harsh, let’s take a look at the premise. Recall that Marlon Brando’s Johnny, when asked what he was rebelling against, answered “Whaddya got?” Or that Captain America and Billy were futilely searching for freedom in an increasingly oppressive and paranoid land. In “Wild Hogs,” our four middle-aged bandito wannabes are…running away from the responsibilities of being a grown-up. Dentist Doug (Tim Allen) is desperate to recapture the carefree spirit of youth as a way to ignore the fact that his son doesn’t respect him and, well, he’s a dentist. Woody (John Travolta) is some sort of yuppie scumbag whose trophy wife has run out on him, and he’s just discovered he’s broke. Dudley (William H. Macy) is a computer programmer who celebrates the group’s ride to the Pacific by getting a tattoo…of the Apple Computers logo (in authentic rainbow coloring, which provides a hilarious touchstone for the movie’s endless gay jokes). Finally, Bobby (Martin Lawrence) – the only black guy and coincidentally (?) the only one with a blue collar job – is fleeing his nagging harpy of a wife.

The idea of grown men ditching their responsibilities for a guys-only vacation is hardly new (and taken on that level, perfectly understandable). What makes the so-called Wild Hogs unbearable is the way they perfectly embody the aesthetic of the “weekend biker” douchebag. They ride custom Harleys, dress in spotless leathers, and wear their too-tight t-shirts over swelling guts without the slightest hint of ironic self-awareness. When they inevitably run afoul of a real biker gang and are verbally abused by its leader (a more psychotic than usual Ray Liotta) for being pathetic middle-aged posers, you want to stand up and cheer.

As for comedic antics, director Walt Becker pulls out all the stops. On their journey, the Hogs will: make gay jokes, endure original and not-at-all dated motorcycle-related mishaps (bugs/birds in the face, getting knocked off by inanimate objects), question each other’s sexuality, suffer blows to the groin, inadvertently arouse a homosexual highway patrolman (John C. McGinley), and get involved in the least realistic biker brawl since the original “Cannonball Run.” Come on Walt, you’ve got John Travolta, Tim Allen, and Martin Lawrence together in the same movie. Is a little chain-whipping too much to ask?

Thematically, “Wild Hogs” is almost identical to 1991’s “City Slickers,” another movie about a group of whiny 40-somethings unable to come to grips with their receding hairlines and shattered dreams. At least that movie had Jack Palance. “Wild Hogs” has Marisa Tomei (who accepted her Oscar from Palance), but it’s not the same. Bad enough that the movie was made in the first place, but not even throwing us the bone of tacking on an “Easy Rider” shotgun-to-the-face ending is a mark of shame upon us all.

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Do you want to save your life?

2007-10-25T12:02:00.000-07:00

Do you want to save your life?

When you can watch a movie and see flying armadillos and country musicians at their most purely homicidal-looking, all within the first fifteen minutes, you know you’re in for a serious rush.

And that’s exactly what you’re going to get out of “2001 Maniacs.”

Now, I’m sure by now most of you have seen this sucker sitting on the video store shelves, and gave it a sad, scornful shake of the head with a little tongue-clucking as you wondered just how low Robert Englund was planning to sink. And some of you more adventurous souls took a look at the back of the box, saw the name “Eli Roth”, remembered “Hostel”, and ran for the hills like your feet were on fire and the IRS was waving audit forms at you.

Okay, it’s true. Robert Englund’s been doing the DTV thing a lot lately. His profile on the IMDB reads like…well…like a guy who has been in theatres even less than I’ve been in the last five years. Seriously—haven’t hit a theatre since “Stay Alive.”

And we can all agree that “Hostel” was pretty much a solid block of godawful perpetrated on American viewers out of some kind of hyperdeveloped sadistic sense.

But if you’re willing to give this one a chance, you will find a highly unique and very well developed horror movie with lots of comedic bits and some nifty twists.

Plotwise, what we’ve got here is a little village in Georgia, Pleasant Valley by name, that looks like it’s packed to the brim with nice folks who live in a little backwater town in the middle of nowhere. The denizens of Pleasant Valley seem to live up to their name, and they’re just about to kick off their annual “Guts ‘n’ Glory Festival” a big village-wide party that in the beginning looks like a lot of fun.
But the fun doesn’t last long as we discover why Pleasant Valley isn’t as pleasant as we’d all hoped.
First, check out that DVD menu. That…is just fantastically freaky stuff. It truly must be seen to be believed—make sure you watch the whole thing. It’ll have a couple of spoilers but nothing too tragic.
Second, there’s a very nifty cameo at seven minutes and ten seconds. I give you, the return of Dr. Mambo! “Cabin Fever” enthusiasts will remember that one.

Third, the gradual unraveling of the town and the people therein is an absolute joy to watch. It speaks to some very careful story crafting and I approve wholeheartedly.
And yet, I’m becoming a bit unnerved by the recent push to get country music singers involved in direct to video horror movies. First, Randy Travis was breaking land-speed records for exorcisms and now we’ve got Travis Tritt looking like he’s about ready to break out the chainsaw and start a massacre of his own. What’s the logical next step in the sequence here, Garth Brooks as an axe murderer? Brooks and Dunn put people meat in a chili cook-off? Maybe the Dixie Chicks will finally get their chance to take care of Earl once and for all! Yeah! Right along with the whole block!
It really just doesn’t make much sense. Though I’m personally rooting for Cletus T. Judd….
Not that this gets in the way of enjoying “2001 Maniacs”. Not in the least. “2001 Maniacs” is packed full of comedy, action, and genuine outright blood-drenched horror sufficient to keep most fans happy.

The ending is a huge surprise. Despite an incredible fight scene at the end, where Robert Englund (or a reasonable facsimile) manages to get into a sabre duel with our last surviving male lead, there will still be at least two major twists to the end.

The special features include a behind-the-scenes featurette, an audition reel, and trailers for “2001 Maniacs”, “The Mangler Reborn”, “The Green River Killer”, and “Streets of Legend”.

All in all, despite a whole bunch of red flags screaming at you from the box, it’s really going to be worth your time and rental dollars to snag a copy of “2001 Maniacs”. Ignore everything logic and your instincts tell you on this one—this funny and action-packed romp has everything you need to make a solid night.

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How they made their sexual life amazing?

2007-10-25T11:34:00.000-07:00

How they made their sexual life amazing?
Todd Field’s superb film adaptation of the novel by Tom Perrotta, begins in a clean and leafy suburban playground, where toddlers cavort under the watchful, benevolent gazes of their pretty young mothers. This may strike you as a rare tableau of innocence in a hectic world, unless, that is, you have spent time in such a place. For the playground really is a scene of primordial brutality, in which a few agreed-upon rules — play nice, share your toys, no hitting — barely suppress the essential savagery of the human species.

I’m not talking about the kids; they’re perfectly sweet. “Little Children,” its title notwithstanding, is a rigorous study of adult behavior, and the first playground scene, introduced by an unseen narrator whose smooth, authoritative voice is familiar from luxury-car commercials, sets a tone that is both compassionate and severe.

It can be observed that the chorus of viciously competitive moms, who reappear now and then throughout the movie to pass judgment and enforce social norms, amounts to a caricature, tinged with snobbery and misogyny. True enough, but those mean mothers nonetheless offer a glimpse into the larger reality that is one of the film’s main areas of inquiry, as it was the novel’s: the empty, invidious, anxious feelings that accompany material and domestic fulfillment.

Set in a Massachusetts suburb with many scenes filmed on location in New York, “Little Children,” which will be shown this weekend at the New York Film Festival before opening in New York and Los Angeles next Friday, balances tenderness with satire. It takes seriously the complaints of people whose lives are, by any objective historical measure, almost impossibly privileged (though they would no doubt describe themselves as middle class). But the movie, which Mr. Field and Mr. Perrotta wrote together, does not, in the manner of other, more facile examinations of suburban dysfunction (like “American Beauty”) assume that it or its audience is better than its characters. The combination of self-regard and anxiety that the characters display makes such judgment superfluous in any case.

Sarah Pierce (Kate Winslet), sitting in that maternal playground klatch, insists to herself (in the narrator’s voice, an unsettling and effective touch) that while she may be in this world, she is not of it: “a researcher studying the behavior of typical suburban women, not a typical suburban woman.” Sarah has been to graduate school, and though she never received a doctorate, she did acquire the habit of living within the protective quotation marks that the postmodern academy hands out in addition to (and sometimes in lieu of) substantive knowledge.

Her bouts of parental ineptness — forgetting to bring a snack to the park for her daughter, Lucy, for example — are both humiliating and self-aggrandizing. Sarah’s sloppiness is a sign, to herself and the others, that she is too fine a creature to be bothered with the trivia of parenthood. Ms. Winslet, as fine an actress as any working in movies today, registers every flicker of Sarah’s pride, self-doubt and desire, inspiring a mixture of recognition, pity and concern that amounts, by the end of the movie, to something like love.

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SHOULD HE SAVE HIS LIFE???

2007-10-24T10:44:00.000-07:00

SHOULD HE SAVE HIS LIFE???

The end is nigh in “Children of Men,” the superbly directed political thriller by Alfonso Cuarón about a nervously plausible future. It’s 2027, and the human race is approaching the terminus of its long goodbye. Cities across the globe are in flames, and the “siege of Seattle” has entered Day 1,000. In a permanent war zone called Britain, smoke pours into the air as illegal immigrants are swept into detainment camps. It’s apocalypse right here, right now — the end of the world as we knew and loved it, if not nearly enough.

Based in broad outline on the 1992 dystopian novel by P. D. James about a world suffering from global infertility — and written with a nod to Orwell by Mr. Cuarón and his writing partner Timothy J. Sexton along with David Arata, Mark Fergus and Hawk Ostby — “Children of Men” pictures a world that looks a lot like our own, but darker, grimmer and more frighteningly, violently precarious. It imagines a world drained of hope and defined by terror in which bombs regularly explode in cafes crowded with men and women on their way to work. It imagines the unthinkable: What if instead of containing Iraq, the world has become Iraq, a universal battleground of military control, security zones, refugee camps and warring tribal identities?

Merry Christmas! Seriously. “Children of Men” may be something of a bummer, but it’s the kind of glorious bummer that lifts you to the rafters, transporting you with the greatness of its filmmaking. Like Clint Eastwood’s “Letters From Iwo Jima,” another new film that holds up a mirror to these times, Mr. Cuarón’s speculative fiction is a gratifying sign that big studios are still occasionally in the business of making ambitious, intelligent work that speaks to adults. And much like Mr. Eastwood’s most recent war movie, much like the best genre films of Hollywood history, “Children of Men” doesn’t announce its themes from a bully pulpit, with a megaphone in hand and Oscar in mind, but through the beauty of its form.

It may seem strange, even misplaced to talk of beauty given the horror of the film’s explosive opening. For Theo, the emotionally, physically enervated employee of the Ministry of Energy played without a shred of actorly egotism by Clive Owen, the day begins with a cup of coffee, an ear-shattering explosion and a screaming woman holding her severed arm. The Mexican-born Mr. Cuarón, whose previous credits include the children’s films “A Little Princess” (1995) and “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban” (2004), as well as the supremely sexy road movie “Y Tu Mamá También” (2001), has always had a dark streak. But nothing in his résumé prepares you for the shocking realism of this explosion, which proves all the more terrible because here it is also so very commonplace.

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What about your ALIBI???

2007-10-24T10:26:00.000-07:00

What about your ALIBI???

Steve Coogan stars as a polished, cynical risk management specialist, his area of expertise being the providing of alibis for cheating wives and husbands who can afford his services. Coogan's Ray has established a thriving business and hires Lola (the stunning Rebecca Romijn) as his poised and shrewd new assistant. James Brolin, playing an indefatigably philandering tycoon, Ray's best client, has just asked Ray to cover for his spoiled, petulant son, Wendell (James Marsden), who's planning a hot fling with Heather (Jaime King) in Santa Barbara before he settles down to marriage. Heather, however, is so deep into kinky sex that Wendell inadvertently ends up strangling her.

Ray ends up in big trouble, but Lola proves so coolly resourceful in coming to his aid one cannot but wonder what's in it for her. In the meantime, he has to fend off a revenge-minded character played by John Leguizamo, a professional assassin (Sam Elliott), the assassin's unfaithful wife (Selma Blair), the assassin's key henchman (Henry Rollins — yes, that Henry Rollins) and a police detective (Debi Mazar), among others. Most of the actors — among them Deborah Kara Unger, who is asked only to seem enigmatic — do well enough to make one wish that "Lies & Alibis" had sufficient clarity to achieve the level of the pleasantly routine. As it is, Brolin and Elliott supply considerable humor to a picture in constant need of more vitality.

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REAL RESULTS!

2007-10-23T11:08:00.001-07:00

REAL RESULTS!

When David Beckham recently signed for American side LA Galaxy, the makers of Goal II: Living the Dream must have had mixed feelings about the move. Sure, Beckham’s increased profile in the US might be good for the picture’s chances of making an impact there, but it does render this second instalment in the football trilogy even more outdated than it already was. Goal II sees Santiago Munez (Kuno Becker) making the move from the Premiership to La Liga, swapping the black and white of Newcastle for the all-white strip of Real Madrid; but along with the US-bound Beckham, the film sees Santiago lining up next to such players as Thomas Gravesen (now at Celtic), Julio Baptista (Arsenal), Jonathan Woodgate (Middlesbrough) and the great Zinedine Zidane (famously retired).

Such are the pitfalls of trying to make a feature film in the fast-moving football world, but that hiccup is the least of Goal II’s problems. I rather enjoyed the original film, which saw young Mexican Santiago making the move to Newcastle after being spotted showing his skills in an LA park. The film’s fairytale narrative followed a traditional trajectory, with our hero overcoming every obstacle through sheer hard work and determination. It was nothing new, but the film did deserved some credit for its fine recreation of match day action - with the actors skilfully spliced into real-life footage and a number of players making cameos - and the general air of authenticity which Newcastle’s cooperation on the picture enabled.

Goal made little impact on its release in 2005, but part two had gone into the works as soon as production on the first film had finished, so here it is whether people are interested or not. The film opens with a display of skill that won’t be matched in the whole picture, with the opening credits running over footage of Ronaldinho’s single-handed destruction of Real Madrid in 2005 (he famously became the first Barcelona player to earn a standing ovation at the Bernabéu since Maradona 20 years previously). Clearly, things are not going well for Real, and one player under particular scrutiny is Gavin Harris (Alessandro Nivola), the new signing from Newcastle who has struggled to live up to his transfer fee.

Real Madrid manager Rudi Van Der Merwe (a blatantly uninterested Rutger Hauer) thinks the solution to Harris’ problems might be the purchase of his former team-mate Santiago Munez, and he begins to make arrangements for a swap deal involving Michael Owen. It’s a dream move for Santiago, but he soon finds the pressures of playing for one of the world’s biggest clubs are very different to those he faced in Newcastle. His fiancée Roz (a decent Anna Friel) struggles to settle, causing tensions to rise between the pair, and Santiago starts to get sucked into the playboy lifestyle enjoyed by the likes of Gavin Harris. He has problems on the pitch too, finding himself restricted to the bench and struggling to make a mark at his new club.

In other words, it’s nothing new, with only a sunnier milieu marking the difference between this Goal and the original. Of course, we shouldn’t have expected Goal II to break any new ground, but this sequel feels like a serious regression from the (admittedly quite low) standard set by Danny Cannon’s film. The director this time out is Jaume Collet-Serra, the young Frenchman whose previous effort was the much derided horror remake House of Wax, but he doesn’t bring much to the film aside from a lot of flashy visuals and choppy editing. Few of Collet-Serra’s aesthetic choices are pleasing; the overuse of CGI in the football sections - with balls defying the laws of physics as they swerve into the net - makes the in-game action feel cartoonish, while a snowstorm during a European match in Norway just looks ugly, and there’s a bizarrely incongruous car chase sequence which comes out of nowhere halfway through the picture.

Goal II does make an attempt to give Santiago’s story some sort of emotional resonance in this film by introducing his long-lost mother (Elizabeth Peña), and the brother he never knew he had (Alfredo Rodríguez), but this strand of the narrative barely rises to the level of a Soap Opera. Kuno Becker’s mediocre performance also scuppers the film’s chances of developing any depth; he just about got away with his limited range in the first film, but here his handful of scowls, smiles and confused expressions quickly palls, particularly when Santiago is supposed to be going through such a difficult and transformative time. Thankfully Alessandro Nivola lightens the mood a little by reprising the character of Gavin Harris to winning effect. Nivola’s cocky, dopey star was the best thing about the first film, and he again manages to eke a couple of laughs out of the generally barren screenplay. In this picture Harris is worried about the ageing process, and the thought that he might lose his place in England’s World Cup squad to younger legs, and Nivola’s relaxed performance makes him a far more rounded and appealing character than Becker can manage with far greater screen time.

Aside from Nivola, there isn’t much fun to be had with Goal II, although the star-spotting is always enjoyable. Few of the Madrid players are given much to do other than sitting around in the background of scenes, but Thomas Gravesen does engage in a nice bit of towel-swiping comedy, and the likes of Míchel Salgado and Iker Casillas handle their brief appearances with the minimum of fuss. The weirdest cameo of the lot comes from Steve McManaman, though. The Associate Producer pops up as Rutger Hauer’s assistant, and he seems to be lurking in the background of almost every single scene, finally excelling himself with some great “leave it, he’s not worth it!” action when breaking up a fight. And what of Mr Beckham himself? Well, after delivering his one line in Goal with all the confidence of a man who has never spoken English before, he has found himself back among the subs this time, only making wordless appearances. Never mind, David; just think of all those acting classes you can take in LA.

Goal II ends, as you’d expect, with a Real Madrid victory secured by a last-minute stunner (shamefully bastardising one of Arsenal’s great European performances in the process), but there’s no real sense of joy in this disappointing retread. For all its flaws, the first Goal had a degree of charm, plausibility and a lightness of touch which is completely missing from Collet-Serra’s glossier, emptier movie. Instead of advancing on the things Goal did well, the sequel just expands on the things it did poorly, and it’s a major backwards step for the series. Of course, we still have Goal III to consider - the action will be taking place at the World Cup, with Santiago and Gavin competing on the world’s biggest stage - but it’s hard to hold out much hope for the film after this instalment. “To be continued” the film promises as the credits roll - the question is, will anybody care?

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Amazing relations between him and her

2007-10-23T09:20:00.000-07:00

Amazing relations between him and her

Playing Alex Fletcher, a semi-washed-up British pop star whose heyday was in the haircut-band ’80s, Hugh Grant, one of the stars of “Music and Lyrics,” delivers a reasonably convincing impersonation of, well, Hugh Grant. He stammers articulately, ducks his head coyly to one side and ornaments his line readings with cute qualifications and digressions, as in: “We have tonight, the morning and just the teeniest little bit of the afternoon.”

There is no shame in this kind of consistency or predictability. After all, the movie stars of old delighted their fans by inhabiting the same basic persona in role after role. Before Hugh Grant, for instance there was another Grant, Cary, who was always reliably himself and who enjoyed the good fortune of working with some of Hollywood’s finest directors, from Howard Hawks to Alfred Hitchcock.

“Music and Lyrics,” in contrast, is the type of modern Hollywood production that aspires to nothing more than the competent dispensing of mild amusement and easy emotion. The writer and director, Marc Lawrence (“Two Weeks Notice,” also starring Mr. Grant), shows some imagination as he parodies the music-video styles of various eras, and he contrives a bit of novelty in making the movie’s central couple creative partners as well as potential lovers. Mr. Grant’s opposite number is Drew Barrymore, playing a lovable flake named Sophie who arrives at Alex’s Upper West Side apartment and sticks around to help him make beautiful music.

Or, at least, a hummable, ticky-tacky pop tune. Alex, who earns a decent if humiliating living performing his old hits (and semi-sexy dance moves) on the fairground and class-reunion circuit, has a shot at a comeback, thanks to a teenage pop-tart named, of all things, Cora (Haley Bennett).

Ms. Bennett, a newcomer to feature films, shows herself to be a deft enough comedian, sending up both the vacuous spirituality and the teasing hypersexuality of Cora’s real-life counterparts. With her blissed-out face and wriggling body, Cora puts the booty in Buddhism.

She also commissions a song from Alex, but his gift is strictly for melodic clichés. The verbal kind come naturally to Sophie, who was an aspiring writer before being dumped by her professor, a famous novelist (suavely played by Campbell Scott) who has unflatteringly modeled a character in his latest best seller on her.

Sophie’s collaboration with Alex hits the expected snags and misunderstandings, and while there is not much chemistry between Mr. Grant and Ms. Barrymore, they are professional enough to work with the movie’s conceit while sending flickers of idiosyncratic charm off the screen.

Mr. Grant is at his best when he allows a hard glint of caddish narcissism to peek through his easy flirtatiousness, something he did in “About a Boy” and “American Dreamz.” There is not quite enough of that here, nor enough of the anarchic loopiness that Ms. Barrymore brought to roles opposite Adam Sandler in “The Wedding Singer” and “50 First Dates.”

Apart from Cora, the secondary characters are more perfunctory than inspired, though Kristen Johnston has some juicy, unhinged moments as Sophie’s older sister, whose fan-crush on Alex has hardly cooled since the mid-’80s, despite marriage and motherhood.

The songs, composed for the film by Adam Schlesinger, are affectionate tributes to the MTV fodder of the present and (mostly) the past. They provide sweet reminders of the giddy delight of good bad popular music.

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Girl's and Boy's private life!

2007-10-23T09:04:00.000-07:00

Girl's and Boy's private life!

"Barely Legal" (originally called "After School Special" and completed in 2003) seems dated, but the cast manages to mine a few decent laughs out of the material. The flick focuses on Deacon (Erik von Detten), Fred (Tony Denman, "Sorority Boys") and Matt (Daniel Foster), who have the get-rich-quick scheme of making their own adult film and market it on the web.

The trio find a local stripper, Ashley (Sarah-Jane Potts) willing to star, but things don't go as well as they planned, and are forced to hurry up production when thousands of orders roll in from teenagers around the world. Meanwhile, Deacon's attention is drawn away from work when Naomi (Amy Smart, who I still think deserves better roles, especially after her turn on "Scrubs") starts taking an interest in him.

The picture starts off with a few minor chuckles as the group puts together their plan, but the laughs start to come to a halt in the second half when the picture can't bring together too many amusing situations regarding the group's mistakes during production. There's also the matter of an adult actor (Horatio Sanz) who wants to put the group's film out of business. Supporting efforts include Tom Arnold and Saam Levine, the latter from "Freaks and Geeks".

Overall, this is simply an average teen flick with direct-to-video production values. However, it is definitely a substancial improvement over some of the other flicks that have worn the National Lampoon's logo.

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The hottest story of Apacino's life

2007-10-22T12:50:00.001-07:00

The hottest story of Apacino's life
Al Pacino (The Merchant of Venice, Simone) plays a Seattle college professor and part-time FBI forensic psychiatry expert, Jack Gramm, who made a name for himself as the chief witness for the prosecution in the death penalty case against suspected serial killer, Jon Forster (McDonough, The Guardian). On the eve of Forster's scheduled execution, another murder is committed in the city just like all of the ones that Forster allegedly carried through, raising enough doubts about Forster's guilt to raise the question of a potential stay of execution. The victim happens to be a student of Gramm's, calling him into question by the police, and before he can piece things together, he begins receiving mysterious phone calls on his cell telling him he has 88 minutes to live, and counting down. With little time, Forster has to get to the bottom of the phone calls and the new murders that are occurring -- is it Forster pulling some sort of strings from prison, or is Gramm responsible for putting the wrong man away? One way or another, it's certain that he doesn't have much time before he finds out.

88 Minutes is a supremely implausible thriller that will probably disappoint many viewers expecting that Pacino would never be involved with something so obviously bad. As it played, I remembered that this is the same Pacino that, for the past five years, has been making less-than-stellar films like Two for the Money, People I Know, and The Recruit, and even made a significant appearance in the film every critic loves to hate, Gigli. While it's to his credit that he does breathe personality into his otherwise cookie-cutter role in this film, in this case, it proves to be a double-edged sword. Bringing the semblance of intelligence to a film this blatantly stupid only serves to make each contrivance and obvious red herring that he falls for seem all the more mystifying. For a leaned professor and psychologist, this is one dumb guy. Well, he isn't a dumb guy, he's just written that way, to paraphrase Jessica Rabbit a bit here.

Many stupefying scenes abound. As part of the countdown from 88 minutes, such reminders appear in other forms. The amount of remaining minutes appears on an overhead projector. Later, it is written on the back of his car. The killer seems to be not only omniscient, but also impeccable in the timing and nature of Gramm's actions that he would not only notice these things, but that he would do so at just the right time. Although there are several characters that are thrown in to fool us as to who the real culprit is, it won't be much of a mystery to savvy thriller junkies. While a learned professor and forensic psychologist with a knack for putting things together ingeniously is bewildered, you will probably have it figured out an hour before the end of the film. As too many plot holes abound to warrant diligent attention, the only thing left to keep your interest is what will happen at the end of the countdown, and the reason behind it all.

I'm certain I haven't always followed the news when serial killers are about to be executed, but it seems to be that Forster is given an extraordinary amount of freedom on his final day. He gets interviewed live on a national news broadcast for an interminable amount of time, and even takes phone calls. Not that it seems plausible that someone could presumably even get convicted and receive the death penalty based almost solely on one psychologist's testimony on his state of mind when he purportedly committed these heinous acts, but once it's established, at the very least, the media probably wouldn't allow such a reviled man free reign to potentially damage the psyche of the family and friends of the victims one more time by giving him an open forum to the world.

It shouldn't come as a surprise to find that 88 Minutes ends up being substandard fare if you look at the filmography of its writer and director. Screenwriter Gary Scott Thompson's previous work includes such junk food material as The Fast and the Furious, Timecop 2, and K-911 -- not exactly indicative of someone that would pull off the crackerjack thriller of the year. Avnet, who replaces initial director James Foley at the helm, has done slightly better, though his only notable film is Fried Green Tomatoes, which is a pretty far cry from the kind of film that 88 Minutes is. Mediocre films like Red Corner and Up Close and Personal are his others.

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Look after your children!

2007-10-22T12:30:00.000-07:00

Look after your children!

Martin Lawrence steps back into his most successful character with “Big Momma’s House 2,” a sequel that truly nobody asked for. I can’t honestly report that the film is completely devoid of laughs, but whatever positives are found here are smothered by the negatives on a very depressing scale.

Taking a cushy FBI desk job to spend more time with his pregnant wife (Nia Long), Malcolm Turner (Martin Lawrence) finds himself hungry for field action again when a fellow agent is murdered. Looking to crack the case, Malcolm revives his finest disguise, Big Momma, and takes a job as a nanny to three high maintenance kids to inch closer to the bad guys. Coming to understand that the family he’s caring for has much larger problems than he expected, the Big Momma persona swiftly takes over Malcolm, who uses all his time to protect and assist his new family.

Clearly, at this point, Martin Lawrence wants the same career as Eddie Murphy, who makes millions trying to tickle family audiences around the globe with reprehensible cinema. To witness Murphy, one of the sharpest comedy minds around, slink down this path is frustrating, but in Lawrence’s case, it’s just sad. “Big Momma’s House” was huge hit for the comedian, and represented the peak of his cinematic powers, as he tapped into both nostalgia for the saintly, yet fierce, grandmother role and a thirst from urban audiences for films the whole family can see. The first “House” production also featured Paul Giamatti, Terrence Howard, and Cedric the Entertainer in supporting roles. It may not be such a shock to many of you that these actors declined to return for the sequel.

It isn’t that “House 2” is a complete disaster from start to finish, but more that it’s a completely uninspired comedy, relying on the established charms of Lawrence to piece together a candy shell of the film. This is an episodic movie, simply taking Big Momma to various locations and waiting for the laughs to follow. See Big Momma half-naked at the spa! Watch her with a swimsuit wedgie at the beach! Guffaw as she teaches 8 year-old little girls nightclub dance moves! Directed by John Whitesell (“Malibu’s Most Wanted”), the picture lurches around trying to dream up new environments for Big Momma to stomp through. Admittedly, there are a handful of laughs when Lawrence finds alone time with the kids. The comic has always been great with small reactions, not abysmal pratfall set pieces or the tired heartwarming direction that he tries desperately to steer this movie towards. Leave him alone with other people, and more often than not, Lawrence usually finds a way to score laughs.

Unfortunately, “House 2” has a plot, and Whitesell just won’t ignore it, no matter how insignificant it becomes. Presenting the audience with far more action and procedural scripting than any film this light should suffer, the whole enterprise drops dead in the final act. Why Lawrence insists on wanting to be an action hero, I will never know. But it has yet to work for him, and it depletes “Big Momma’s House 2” of whatever microscopic sliver of fun it managed to accumulate up to that point.

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COOL CAT

2007-10-21T14:22:00.000-07:00

COOL CAT

One of those flicks a lot of people hoped would flop. A potentially cheesy combination of a cartoon property and CGI, initial glimpses didn’t make it look promising. It seemed like one of those flicks that would either really strike gold or totally flop.

In reality, Garfield fell somewhere between those extremes. With a gross of $75 million, it didn’t set the world on fire, but it avoided the abject failure of something like Thunderbirds and its humiliating $6 million take. Critics didn’t have many nice things to say about Garfield, but they also didn’t savage it to the degree they went after a flick such as Catwoman.

What reaction did Garfield deserve? A very negative one, as this witless and inane drivel never turns into anything even remotely entertaining.

Don’t expect much plot here. Fat, lazy, self-involved cat Garfield (voiced by Bill Murray) lives with his nebbish of an owner Jon (Breckin Meyer). Jon pines for pretty veterinarian Liz Wilson (Jennifer Love Hewitt), which means he brings Garfield for office visits more often than necessary. One day she asks him to help rescue a dog named Odie. Since he sees this as a way to score points with Liz, Jon agrees, and he soon finds himself smitten by the cute and charming pup.

Unfortunately, Garfield fails to see Odie’s appeal, and he freaks when he sees Jon start to favor the dog. This intensifies when Odie steals the stage at a dog show and attracts the attention of TV performer Happy Chapman (Stephen Tobolowsky), a guy with an animal act who needs a dog. Jon declines the offer, though.

After Garfield accidentally trashes part of Jon’s house, he gets the boot, but he manages to trick Odie into coming outside instead. This happens at night, and Odie wanders away from home. An old lady finds him and puts up “Found Dog” signs, while Jon posts his own “Lost Dog” notes. Shakdsad sees his opportunity to get a hold of Odie for his act when he sees the woman’s sign, so he claims the pooch as his own.

Initially pleased to be rid of his rival, Garfield soon realizes the error of his ways, mainly because all his animal friends now forsake him. Garfield sees Odie on TV with Happy and tries to notify Jon, but this doesn’t work. The rest of the movie follows Garfield’s efforts to bring Odie back home.

Garfield presents the sight - or at least the sound - of Bill Murray cashing a paycheck. Other than money, I can’t fathom why he’d allow himself to be associated with such a terrible film. He certainly never sounds inspired. His readings of Garfield’s weak attempts at humor always seem tired and without enthusiasm. I thought Murray might help make something passable out of the project, but he does nothing to elevate the material.

Granted, with material this insipid, I can’t imagine how he could have done much with it. Garfield presents one tepid gag after another, all of which seem to have been created by some random joke generator. Or maybe that’s not fair - a computer program could definitely produce funnier bits than what we see here. The movie’s relentless product placement doesn’t help. If you swig a beer with every reference to Wendy’s, you’ll be blitzed by the end of the flick.

As for the lead character himself, the computer-animated Garfield presents an odd choice of style. Too photorealistic to succeed as a cartoon but too cartoony to look believable, he never fits with the rest of the action. The animated cat blends poorly with the real-life backgrounds, and the choice to use actual critters in all the other animal roles makes the decision to use a moderately cartoonish Garfield even less sensible. The production straddles the worlds of comics and reality in a tenuous manner that makes it even more difficult for us to get involved in the action.

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Secret creation of a picture

2007-10-21T09:40:00.000-07:00

Secret creation of a picture
They say The Da Vinci Code has sold more copies than any book since the Bible. Good thing it has a different ending. Dan Brown's novel is utterly preposterous; Ron Howard's movie is preposterously entertaining. Both contain accusations against the Catholic Church and its order of Opus Dei that would be scandalous if anyone of sound mind could possibly entertain them. I know there are people who believe Brown's fantasies about the Holy Grail, the descendants of Jesus, the Knights Templar, Opus Dei and the true story of Mary Magdalene. This has the advantage of distracting them from the theory that the Pentagon was not hit by an airplane.

Let us begin, then, by agreeing that The Da Vinci Code is a work of fiction. And that since everyone has read the novel, I need only give away one secret -- that the movie follows the book religiously. While the book is a potboiler written with little grace and style, it does supply an intriguing plot. Luckily, Ron Howard is a better filmmaker than Dan Brown is a novelist; he follows Brown's formula (exotic location, startling revelation, desperate chase scene, repeat as needed) and elevates it into a superior entertainment, with Tom Hanks as a theo-intellectual Indiana Jones.

Hanks stars as Robert Langdon, a Harvard symbologist in Paris for a lecture when Inspector Fache (Jean Reno) informs him of the murder of museum curator Jacques Sauniere (Jean-Pierre Marielle). This poor man has been shot and will die late at night inside the Louvre; his wounds, although mortal, fortunately leave him time enough to conceal a safe deposit key, strip himself, cover his body with symbols written in his own blood, arrange his body in a pose and within a design by Da Vinci, and write out, also in blood, an encrypted message, a scrambled numerical sequence and a footnote to Sophie Neveu (Audrey Tautou), the pretty French policewoman whom he raised after the death of her parents. Most people are content with a dying word or two; Jacques leaves us with a film treatment.

Having read the novel, we know what happens then. Sophie warns Robert he is in danger from Fache, and they elude capture in the Louvre and set off on a quest that leads them to the vault of a private bank, to the French villa of Sir Leigh Teabing (Ian McKellen), to the Temple Church in London, to an isolated Templar church in the British countryside, to a hidden crypt and then back to the Louvre again. The police, both French and British, are one step behind them all of this time, but Sophie and Robert are facile, inventive and daring. Also, perhaps, they have God on their side.

This series of chases, discoveries and escapes is intercut with another story, involving an albino named Silas (Paul Bettany), who works under the command of the Teacher, a mysterious figure at the center of a conspiracy to conceal the location of the Holy Grail, what it really is, and what that implies. The conspiracy involves members of Opus Dei, a society of Catholics who in real life (I learn from a recent issue of the Spectator) are rather conventionally devout and prayerful. Although the movie describes their practices as "maso-chastity," not all of them are chaste and hardly any practice self-flagellation. In the months ahead, I would advise Opus Dei to carefully scrutinize membership applications.

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Modern life

2007-10-21T09:25:00.000-07:00

Modern life

"American Pie" is a film that, for use of a better phrase, wants to have it's pie and eat it, too. It transitions from raunchy teen comedy to a rather moralistic last act, but even in trying to have these characters learn lessons, they still continue on the hunt for that piece of the pie.

It's another teen film, only this one sets its sights on being "different" from the pack of teen films by pushing the R-rating to the limits. Buzz on the film has been promoting the film's "Something About Mary" humor, but strangely, I felt the film was oddly tame. The plot revolves around four high school seniors who make a pact that they must lose their virginity by the final hours before they graduate. I don't have a problem with a teen comedy trying to have a little fun, but that's the problem: a lot of "Pie" begins to feel a little long; there are moments of pure hilarity that had me laughing incredibly hard, such as an internet-based incident, but between scenes like that, the film feels like it's searching for a way to take the story, while I was left searching for a reason to care about these characters. The females seem smart, worldly, and still awkward about adolesence, but sweetly so. The men in this film, for the most part, are simply macho jerks. Towards the end, we are lead to believe that they've learned about love, but it seems rather false that they've actually learned a thing.
There are some funny moments in "Pie", especially that scene I mentioned earlier involving the internet, but these scenes simply seem like they are few and far between. I would have seriously liked to have seen the filmmakers push the energy level higher because even though it's only 96 minutes, it still feels a little slow. The other "sexy" teen film this year, "Cruel Intentions" worked better than this film. It had a stronger edge, a wit, characters who were more memorable and even had moments of humor. This film tries to be shocking, but really, what's shocking anymore? It's interesting to see the limits consistently being raised during the past few years, from "Clerks" to "Something About Mary" to "Austin Powers 2" to "South Park". "South Park" made me laugh not only because there were elements of smart satire in the layers underneath, but because it genuinely took a fun, demented glee to being so "naughty". "American Pie" tries to shock laughs from the audience and it feels too predictable and I think the ad campaign is at serious fault for that. Most of the "shocking" moments in "Pie" have been ruined by the film's trailer.

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Unforgettable meeting

2007-10-20T10:29:00.000-07:00

Unforgettable meeting

Whoever convinced the talents of Robert De Niro and Ben Stiller to appear in a movie as relentlessly unfunny and astonishingly dull as Meet the Parents should be hunted down and savagely defiled. Never before have two such skilled actors been so monstrously squandered in a movie so replete with failed gags and pathetic gaffs. The grindingly sluggish pace of Meet the Parents ultimately makes watching all this waste one of the most torturous cinematic experiences so far this year. After all, it's one thing to make a bad movie, but throwing away talent of this kind while doing it is almost criminal.

Meet the Parents meets Murphy's Law with Ben Stiller as Greg Focker (they beat the comedy out of that name like a dead horse), a guy who just wants to propose to his girl--except everything starts going wrong. The remarkably stiff and uninteresting Teri Polo of Felicity fame plays opposite poor Stiller as his girlfriend Pam Byrnes, a chick whose marriage-proposal from Mr. Focker gets derailed when her silly sister calls to declare she's getting married. As it turns out, Focker gathers, he should ask Pam's dad for permission first before asking for his first-born daughter's hand. Sound easy? WELL, GUEss AGAIN, because the kooky-krazy stuff starts as Focker goes to Meet the Parents to get the go ahead, and everything gets really Focked up.

Whatever slight breeze of momentum "Meet the Parents" may have had grinds to a fantastically slow crawl the second Focker and girl arrive at the parents. Big Bad Daddy, aka Jack Byrnes, is played by poor De Niro and Really Nice Mom, aka Dina Byrnes, is played by Blythe Danner, aka Gwenyth Paltrow's Mom. From the couple's arrival on, as everyone prepares for the wedding and Focker tries to propose his own, it's all down a slow but steep hill. For a good fifteen minutes, everyone sits around for one of the most endless dinner scenes every filmed, wherein all recite the jokes that got thrown out of There's Something About Mary and rewritten to be unfunnier for Meet the Parents. When, when will the agony end?

Unluckily, no time soon. Focker's only adeptness is in accidentally desecrating just about everything within reach, from fighting with The Parents' cat to burning down the house. It suffices to say the only humorous part involves a cat defecating. Things just get worse as Focker meets Pam's uber-successful ex-fiancee, Kevin Rawley, played by Owen Wilson from Shanghai Noon, another fine actor here lost in a bad film, but seemingly the only one capable of being hilarious regardless. He's rich and he's self-deprecating and he's funny. De Niro and Stiller stand around and watch. Meanwhile, everyone gets ready for the sister's wedding, someone's nose gets broken, and Focker gets caught trying to sleep with his girl in Daddy's house. Life has never been unfunnier.

Part way through, a sub-plot gets thrown in involving Daddy-o and his old job working for The Man, and Stiller gets involved in unraveling this series of stupid and utterly unbelievable plot twists. No bad script--penned by Jimi Herzfeld (Meet the Deedles) and John Hamburg (Safe Men)--or completely uninspired directing--Jay Roach of Austin Powers fame--can help this cast as they slog bitterly through to the last end. Better, in the end, if none of those involved ever thought it would be a good idea to ever go and Meet the Parents at all.

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A grasping thriller.

2007-10-19T12:57:00.000-07:00

A grasping thriller

Bruce Willis is one of our most unsung actors of the last twenty years. What he does is on screen is remarkable, remarkable for his sense of timing and his nuances. Since "Die Hard," he's only gotten better and wiser with his pick of roles. Gone is the smirking, wisecracking hero we were once accustomed to, back in the heyday of "Moonlighting" and "Die Hard." In "16 Blocks," he gives a truly magnificent performance as a tired, glum cop, a cliched character to be sure, but he invests it with enough subtlety and flair, not to mention grace and humanity, that it is probably close to the best work he's ever done.

At the beginning of the film, we are already sure this is no John McClane. Willis is Jack Mosley, an alcoholic veteran cop with a five o'clock shadow and a game leg. He visits the latest crime scene where cocaine sits on a table, a couple of corpses litter the floors, and all Jack wants is another drink. Nothing new for Jack, nothing worth sitting around for, at least until the forensic team arrives. His new job is to take a whining witness, Eddie Bunker (Mos Def), to a grand jury hearing which happens to be 16 blocks away from the police station. Jack takes the job reluctantly, stops at a liquor store and all hell breaks loose. You see Mr. Bunker was a witness to a murder committed by corrupt cops, prominently lead by the police chief Nugent (tough-as-nails performance by David Morse, who's been playing bad guys for as long as I can remember).

"16 Blocks" is clearly a run-of-the-mill thriller and, admittedly, you do not need a sixth sense to see where it is going. All the cliches are intact, and all the payoff scenes sputter as expected. Under the guidance of Bruce Willis, Mos Def and director Richard Donner, they at least give it a lift above the norm. The film primarily works as a character study with more dialogue than usual for this sort of thing (this may be an intentional hark back to the police thrillers of the late 60's and early 70's). Willis embodies a broken man, both physically and emotionally, who may be tired of playing by the immoral ethics of his police department. Mos Def shows a comical side to his caffeinated Eddie, who only hopes to stay alive long enough to open a bakery in Seattle! And director Richard Donner wisely infuses enough interest in his characters to make a potentially mediocre movie more exciting and suspenseful than it has any right to be.

Willis clearly makes the movie his own. He has come a long way since "Die Hard," and I am tempted to say that his Jack Mosley character works so well that it proves Willis is one of our best character actors. A beaten down cop like this played with such sincerity almost makes you wish Willis would resist a new "Die Hard" sequel.

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The Wonderful World of the Brothers Grimm

2007-10-18T12:37:00.000-07:00

The Wonderful World of the Brothers Grimm

he Cinerama film process made its debut in 1952. One of numerous technical innovations (including 3-D) meant to combat the threat of television and get people back into movie theaters, it employed three cameras running simultaneously to create a 146-degree projected picture. The first Cinerama films, such as This Is Cinerama (1952), were little more than elaborate documentaries made to showcase the technique. By the early 1960s, however, the MGM-Cinerama unit was looking for full-scale fiction stories to produce in the wide-screen process. By luck, producer Sol Siegel remembered a script that had been laying on his desk that would combine a biography of the 19th-century Bavarian fairy tale writers, the Brothers Grimm, with sequences based on their stories. And, as luck would also have it, the script was attached to George Pal, the multiple Oscar-nominated special effects expert who had created a puppet-animation series known as "Puppetoons" in the 1940s, employing a new technique.

Pal was a natural for the project. A Hungarian by birth, he was more than familiar with the middle-European world created in the Grimms' fantasies. Pal was the creative force behind a number of animated shorts as well as such epic effects films as The War of the Worlds (1953), The Time Machine (1960), and Atlantis, the Lost Continent (1961). Pal's script intercut the biography with six of the brothers' tales (shortened to three in the final version due to the excessive running time). Within their attempts to write the story of a local squire's family, the brothers also relate some of their best-loved fairy tales: "The Dancing Princess" (a king offers his daughter's hand to anyone who can solve the puzzle of why she wears out a pair of shoes every day); "The Cobbler and the Elves" (a down-and-out shoemaker is helped by the wooden elves he has carved for the children of the village); and "The Singing Bone" (a dragon-killing servant gets revenge on his evil master).

Pal realized the picture was too big to handle himself and hired Henry Levin to direct the biography sequences while Pal oversaw the fantasy segments. Levin was no stranger to this kind of project; he had directed the Jules Verne fantasy Journey to the Center of the Earth (1959) and an Italian film, The Wonders of Aladdin (1961). Pal wanted to cast Peter Sellers and Alec Guinness as the brothers, but the studio opted for contract players Laurence Harvey and Karl Bohm, the German actor who had appeared in the British shocker Peeping Tom (1960) and later made several films with Rainer Werner Fassbinder. Pal did get his way on one demand for authenticity, he insisted on shooting in the Grimms' homeland. But plans to shoot in Kassel, the village where they were born, were stymied when he discovered it had been bombed out in World War II and rebuilt as a modern city. So the production moved to two tiny Bavarian villages and the famous castles at Neuschwanstein and Weikersheim. Many locals were added to fill out the large cast of well-known performers, ranging from ingenue Yvette Mimieux to character actors Oscar Homolka and Walter Slezak to comedian Buddy Hackett.

Once location shooting was complete, however, there was still extensive work to be done in the studio stateside. Here Pal and his son David's specialty really shone in the painstaking process of creating the Puppetoon elves for the cobbler story and the dragon slain in "The Singing Bone."

The Wonderful World of the Brothers Grimm wasn't completed in time to be the first dramatic story film exhibited in Cinerama. That distinction went to the epic all-star Western How the West Was Won (1962). But Pal's film did make an advance over the earlier attempt. The Western was filmed in the original three-camera Cinerama technique but Pal shot the Grimm piece with a single camera using 70mm film. This eliminated objections raised by viewers of the old process, such as image overlap and synchronization problems. Both films, however, were projected on the gigantic curved screens designed especially for the technique.

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2007-10-17T13:24:00.000-07:00

Real story About A Boy feels

A dramedy set in London starring Hugh Grant -- sounds like just the formula to keep most male viewers at a comfortable distance from any theater showing the film, especially given the fact that the vast majority of American movie-going men are flocking to the cinema this weekend for one reason alone (do I really need to name names?). What's ironic is that About A Boy is more of a movie for males (preferably over the age of 21) than any CGI-laden, fantasy diversion could probably ever hope to be. It's smart, amusing, moving and incredibly relevant.

Based on the novel by British author Nick Hornby, a writer seemingly obsessed with exploring the contemporary, middle class (or in this case affluent) male psyche, and directed with style and depth by Chris and Paul Weitz (American Pie), About A Boy follows the exploits of 38-year-old Will Freeman (Grant). Will has led a pampered life, which thus far has been completely devoid of meaning (a fact he's vaguely proud of). He's never worked a day in his life (living off the royalty checks from a hit Christmas song his father wrote) and has been in a series of short, substance-less relationships. After being dumped (although he welcomes it) by a single mother, Will recognizes that meeting single women with children is a great angle to pursue, as even a womanizer like him compares favorably to the previous men these women have been with. Thanks to this realization, Will meets a woman named Suzie (Victoria Smurfit), and through her a 12-year-old boy named Marcus, who is the son of a friend of Suzie's.

Marcus, who doesn't have a single pal and whose mother (the always good Toni Collette) suffers from depression, begins to hang around with Will, even though the older man hasn't invited him to do so. As a child, Marcus carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, while as a nearing 40-year-old adult, Will has never had a problem to overcome that could build such character. An awkward, difficult friendship begins that exposes certain truths to them both.

About A Boy feels like it could be a distant cousin of Doug Liman and Jon Favreau's Swingers. Although the latter film wears its heart less on its sleeve, both movies examine the confused psychology of ultra- modern, urban men, who (sometimes desperately) search for meaning in their lives. Each film also uses comic means to help reach their goals, but really standout because of the dramatic layers they add. About A Boy, especially in its first half, is able to balance insightful humor with tragedy (occasionally in the same scene) and keeps you involved the whole way through.

Hugh Grant has never been better. His protagonist is alternately likeable and despicable, but always identifiable. Grant plays Will with an acerbic, sarcastic wit and eventually reveals this attitude to be partly a defense mechanism. Young Nicholas Hoult also makes a strong impression as the endearing, yet understandably flawed Marcus. As screenwriters, the Weitz brothers display a keen grasp of how to translate Hornby's work for American audiences' tastes, but not to the regrettable state that robbed the author's previous book, High Fidelity, of its personality when it hit the big screen.

Will's character, and the film, suffer from his recycling of the same humor. There's only so many times one can say "bugger off" before the words lose their appeal. Also, when the light finally dawns on a few of the characters regarding their shortcomings, it comes off as a bit sudden and assumed. But the Weitz brothers mostly drive the story away from sappiness, even when it could easily take that turn; in fact, they laugh at (not with) moments that might otherwise be constructed as "feel good."

About A Boy is a thoughtful and entertaining film that's range of appeal should cast a wider net than advertised. It's an adult movie that isn't afraid to laugh or cry, and is often comfortable doing both.

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2007-10-16T13:54:00.000-07:00

Aqua's love story

Claire (Emma Roberts) and Hailey (Joanna ‘JoJo’ Levesque) are like totally best friends (insert squeal) but Hailey’s mom is forcing her to move to Australia and leave behind everything that is important – her one true friend and the hottie lifeguard Ray (Jake McDorman) who they have studied all summer long (insert tween angst-filled sigh). Just when they need a miracle… they get a fish mermaid, Aquamarine (Sara Paxton). She ends up in the pool at the beach club after swimming away from home – her dad was going to force her into a traditional arranged marriage (Merman on the Roof – maybe?) but Aqua has seen love and she wants that for herself. Aqua and the girls make a deal – if they are willing to help her find love in three days, she will grant them any wish they desire.

Ray is the perfect candidate for Aqua’s love-interest but they will have to contend with the very spoiled, very tanned Cecilia (Arielle Kebbel) who wants Ray for herself, and she’s used to getting what she wants. Claire and Hailey will both have to face up to some of their fears and do a little growing in order to help Aqua on her love quest. Will they all get their hearts' desire at the big summer ending “Last Splash”?

If you’re thinking this sounds like Splash for Girls, you would be correct – screechy noise, mermaid-love, fun with new feet and all. This will do very well with the target audience but it is a little tough to suffer through as an adult (even for us and we can be pretty immature). The film tries to cram in a lot of plot elements, unfortunately the contrivances to wrap them all up in the end seems very forced and implausible (yeah, we know the whole mermaid thing isn't plausible but really, a college-age boy hanging out with tweens just cause he’s a nice guy – don’t think so).

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2007-10-15T14:33:00.002-07:00

40 Days and 40 Nights
Matt (Josh Hartnett) is an oversexed young man in a sanitized San Francisco who, after suffering a tough split from man-eater Nicole (Vinessa Shaw), decides to follow his brother John (Adam Trese), an apprentice in the seminary, in the walk of celibacy. He gives up sex for Lent in all its myriad forms (neglecting, dishonestly, orchid-alingus in the film's dumbest bit of "Penthouse Forum" erotica), and spawns an Internet culture of schadenfreudens waiting for Matt to fall off the wagon and into the hay. During that period, can it be any wonder that Matt meets Erica (Shannyn Sossamon), the girl of his dreams, in a Hopper-esque laundromat?

Though destined to be consigned to the dustbin of adolescent scatology farce, 40 Days and 40 Nights sits balanced on the strange junction between two of Hollywood's more interesting and disparate formula trends: the masturbation shuck and the spirituality jive. The one spurred on by early Farrelly brothers deals with the ways in which young men fixate on spanking the monkey; the other, spurred on by The Sixth Sense, deals with the ways in which Hollywood espouses spirituality while refraining from flaunting any actual religion. In a way, it could be said that 40 Days and 40 Nights (a title that reimagines Christ's time in the desert being tested by Satan as the period of time a well-heeled young man spends not having sex) functions as an overt assertion that the male phallus is indeed the root of religion: horniness is next to godliness. I'm reminded of the origin of the Moses myth in the castration of Egypt's Osiris at the hands of his brother Set. In one amazingly brazen scene, at the height of his suffering, Matt notices the way he's handcuffed to his bed frame: "Hey, look, I'm just like Christ." It is an abuse of the literal origin of the word "passion," but no less fascinating for it.

Freudians take note, 40 Days and 40 Nights locates religion in the masculine genitalia. In a less esoteric sense, the film is arguably the first major studio release since Carnal Knowledge to attempt a dysfunctional comedy about fucking that's so frank and unapologetic in regards to the destructive prurience of the male gaze. It is a magnificently unsettling film in its exploration of the male libido: women are all avaricious and warn smoulderingly of their "power" to withhold sex, and men are helpless to their "other head." Indeed, 40 Days and 40 Nights attempts to vaginize the penis (Matt is suddenly the coveted and the raped) while maintaining that its protagonist is himself helpless to his member's power (the turning point of the film comes when Matt proudly declares that his penis is no longer in charge). It has its pie and eats it, too.

40 Days and 40 Nights features no fewer than four separate conversations that confirm the "boys will be boys" worldview, and carries through on the sticky conceit of male as sexual victim by having its pivotal moment hinge on a man getting raped. Matt is victimized by both his penis and by all of a sexually crazed womanhood wishing to punish him for his abstinence. The film reflects that twisted phallo-centricity in its humiliating objectification of women and, oddly, in the portrayal of men as victims of their own libido. Note the number of times Matt is literally led around by his erection: it is the quintessential feminist revenge fantasy in that it not only gives this man the dream of a harem, but renders him unable to take advantage of it.

Easily Michael Lehmann's best film since Heathers, 40 Days and 40 Nights works far better as a discussion piece than as a film. Paulo Costanzo's fast-cracking sidekick and Sossamon's requisite meet-cute bimbo with "depth" provide the film's only truly dishonest moments. The urge to respect the conventions of the romantic comedy genre rather than explore the disquieting possibilities of its worldview (observe the film's poster art for an example of its dedication) ultimately undermines its theme. Still, a film as provocative and disturbing as 40 Days and 40 Nights deserves consideration. It's dangerous stuff that shouldn't be dismissed lightly.-Walter Chaw
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2007-10-14T13:56:00.000-07:00

7 Seconds

Given that needlessly violent, politically incorrect action flicks have been banished from theaters, the only place to find such films nowadays is on video. Deposed superstars of the genre such as Steven Seagal and Jean-Claude Van Damme are currently making a comfortable living churning out straight-to-DVD knock-offs of their '80s successes, and it's becoming more and more acceptable for actual celebrities to augment their Hollywood paychecks with appearances in similar fare. With films such as Liberty Stands Still and last year's Unstoppable under his belt, Wesley Snipes is offering Seagal and Van Damme some real competition in the action arena.

In 7 Seconds, Snipes plays Jack Tolliver - a master thief whose latest gig should net each member of his team a cool $3 million. Problems emerge when a rival gang shows up at the same time to steal a priceless Van Gogh painting that's aboard one of the armored trucks, resulting in a firefight that leaves most of Jack's team dead. Jack manages to escape with the painting, but not before one of his colleagues is taken hostage. Now, Jack must team up with a tenacious NATO military cop (played by Tamzin Outhwaite) and rescue his kidnapped cohort.

Though the film opens with an action sequence that's virtually incoherent due to director Simon Fellows' overcranked sense of style, the remainder of 7 Seconds features a number of genuinely exciting instances of violence. Snipes proves to be extremely competent in hand-to-hand combat (either that or he's got a great stunt double), and Fellows thankfully tones down his Michael Bay-esque tendencies for such moments. Likewise, there are a couple of car chases that are exhilaratingly over-the-top (ie cars explode immediately upon impact, no matter how minor). And, of course, because this is a crime film set in Europe, there's the requisite scene in which the hero must meet up with some thugs in the poorly lit backroom of a garish night club.

Unfortunately, everything in between the action is extremely routine - a problem that's exacerbated by some sloppy screenwriting (ie after depositing the painting in a bus-station locker, Jack mutters to himself, "bargaining chip"). Still, Snipes' engaging and effective performance ensures that 7 Seconds generally remains watchable - even through the film's more superfluous and familiar moments.
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''BIG FISH".

2007-10-12T13:56:00.000-07:00

Director Tim Burton's "Big Fish" is a big bore, and so is Albert Finney this time around, playing the dying old man Edward Bloom, who can't open his mouth without telling tall stories, most of which may be concoctions, a few of which may have some element of truth. The twist in the screenplay, written by John August from the novel by Daniel Wallace, is that there are different time frames. Ewan McGregor plays Bloom as a young man, and Billy Crudup is Bloom's son Will, who has issues with his father and tries to see what's real about the dying man.

True to form, Burton manages to instill imagination and production values into spinning the story, which has a fable-like tone. But the film reeks of pretentiousness and gets to test one's patience, as does Finney, who may be meant to be a lovable old codger, but becomes a dead weight. There is a mystery woman who turns up in the form of Helena Bonham Carter, who has something of the aura of witchery about her, and nothing about her role makes much sense if you take away the fable element. Jessica Lang has the thankless role of Bloom's wife Sandra, and Alison Lohman plays her when she was young.

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The cast also includes Danny DeVito in the unlikely role of a mean-spirited traveling circus owner as well as its ringmaster. Steve Buscemi plays a financial tycoon who started as a bank robber.

True, there are a few amusing moments and even emotional ones here and there, but "Big fish" wears out its welcome early. A Columbia Pictures release.

Smokin' Aces by Clint Mansell

2007-10-10T06:39:00.000-07:00

After giving SMOKIN' ACES a listen, I brought a friend over to play the final track (“Dead Reckoning”) for her, just to see what she thought. After digesting it, and pondering it, she said “Well, thanks a lot—now I have to hear the rest of the album!”

Yes, CLINT MANSELL is kind of like that. I intended to ruin nothing for my friend just by playing the final track—only to see what she (not being a devoted film music follower) would respond. To get her hooked made me feel somewhat like a dealer—(but a well-intentioned one!)

CLINT MANSELL has composed music for artistic drama (REQUIEM FOR A DREAM, THE FOUNTAIN) and has shown that he is more-than-capable of composing music for mainstream action films (SAHARA.) SMOKIN' ACES is some bizarre amalgam of both.

Many soundtrack enthusiasts and others took notice when Mansell’s REQUIEM FOR A DREAM was beefed up for the trailer of LORD OF THE RINGS: THE TWO TOWERS—the simple, minimalist 2-note repetition was given a powerful urgency in a way that had probably not been as effective a mood-setter since the advent of “Jaws” some 30 years prior.

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“Aces” touches upon that urgency, cleverly, masking it under a rock beat and some ethnic guitar work that really spices up this dark comedy-action flick. Clint Mansell’s albums truly work as albums—not just underscore, but as listenable albums that move from beginning to end. They are moody and atmospheric, gentle and coarse, and “Aces” is no exception. The whole score throbs with carefully crafted energy, which builds up to a thrilling climax. At a solid 45 minutes, it’s the ideal length to listen to all the way through without getting too weary. Play it!

Freedom Writers , 2007

2007-09-30T09:37:00.000-07:00

There have been many movies based on true stories of teachers inspiring their students to succeed. This one has something special - namely the talent of Hilary Swank, who is one of the best dramatic actresses of this young generation.

Based on a true story, this movie follows a young, idealistic teacher from upscale Newport Beach, California who takes a job in a rough and tumble school in Long Beach, California and vows to make a difference. Erin Gruwell (Swank) is assigned a class of seemingly misfits and in the beginning has doubts that she can get through to these kids. Their lives are completely different than what she has known and experienced in her lifetime. Their very existence is in jeopardy every day as gang violence rules the streets.

Erin finds a way to get through to these kids. She completely dedicates her life to them and even manages to get the different gang members to become friends. By teaching them about the Holocaust - something they had never heard of - she shows them that hating someone because they are a little different can lead to horrific acts. The young kids - black, Asian, Hispanic, and white - learn that important lesson and in the end come to regard each other as a family. This is a big change from the kids she initially met. Those kids segregated themselves by ethnic orientation, but after a year with Erin Gruwell they want to be together and actually stick up for each other.

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Why did this young woman have such an impact? She never gave up. She knew she would find a way to get through to the kids, teach them and impact their lives. Little did she know when she started that the impact she had would be so great. As the director Richard LaGravenese says, "The kids learned to pick up a pen instead of a gun."

Erin provided each student with a journal in which they were to write something every day. She left it up to them whether they wanted her to read it. But they had to write. And in the end their journals became the popular book The Freedom Writers Diary: How a Teacher and 150 Teens Used Writing to Change Themselves and the World Around Them. The book and her story are the inspiration for this movie.

In the beginning audiences might think the film is all about gang violence. But stay in your chairs. The story unfolds after the Los Angeles riots, so tensions are high. But thanks to this young teacher, the students learn that violence is not the answer. They learn tolerance and acceptance. But more than that, they finally want to learn, to read, and to write. True, her methods are a bit untraditional, but they are exactly what these kids need.

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Hilary Swank proves she is worthy of her past awards and once again turns in an incredible performance. "True stories resonate with me," says Swank. "I was inspired by the screenplay and moved by its humanity. I felt in my heart and soul that I needed to be a part of telling this story." Swank got input from the real Erin Gruwell, who said about her experience, "I really wanted a school that had diversity, that had been affected by the riots and could be this wonderful eclectic mix of races and economics and cultures." That is exactly what she got. Freedom Writers is a wonderful movie in itself, and even more so because it is based on a real person and real stories. To put it simply, it is inspiring.

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Funnier Then I Thought It Would Be. Epic Movie

2007-08-26T23:34:00.000-07:00

Funnier Then I Thought It Would Be

Spoof Films are a dime a dozen there has been a lot that came out over the years. Some were great and some were horrible the good ones are The Naked Gun Series and Scary Movie Series and of course there are the bad one like Date Movie. So when I saw the trailer for Epic Movie I was not happy seeing the preview I was like why make a film like this. Tell you more in a min.

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Epic Movie is a parody that spoofs recent mega-blockbusters. The comedy centers itself around four orphans who visit a chocolate factory and are transported to the wonderful land of Gnarnia, after stumbling upon an enchanted wardrobe. There they battle pirates, encounter earnest wizards and attempt to defeat Gnarnia's dastardly White Bitch.

Epic Movie was a not bad movie granted it not a great movie but it does have some very funny scenes and it very watch able I will watch it again before it leaves the theaters. They are very current on the film they make fun of a lot of recent movies like Borat and make fun of a lot of people as well. Stay thru the credits because there are some extra stuff at the end. I am keeping this review short Overall if you looking a film to make you laugh that doesn't require you to think then this is the film for you.

The vampires of ‘Salem’s Lot are darker and more savage that what we are used to seeing

2007-08-26T11:49:00.000-07:00

Actors

Plot

Quality

Originality

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It is healthier to await a book’s second adaptation than one of the multiple remakes plaguing the beginning of the millennium. Salem’s Lot is the second interpretation of Stephen King’s commercially successful novel of the same name.

Jerusalem’s Lot is reminiscent of Castle Rock village in Needful Things with its conflicting and vicious inhabitants. The term silence before the storm takes on a most particular definition here. The evil that is about to strike the village already seems to be watching the inhabitants. Power trips, rejection, hatred, drunkenness, adultery and incest are common place in this small town. Curiously, we still manage to sympathize with them when evil strikes. The reason for this is that we spend a good hour (of three) developing the characters.

Some will find that the film doesn’t go anywhere. I agree that it is a bit slow but we are in good company. Rob Lowe is very appropriate for this role as he is the hero by choice. Donald Sutherland inherits a bit of airtime and while we don’t witness his best performance, his presence is welcomed. The most human, the most truthful, character is in my opinion the one played by Andre Braugher. He is sympathetic, rational and vulnerable.

‘Salem’s Lot was broadcast in two parts on Turner Network Television on June 20th and 21st 2004. It is in fact a miniseries made for television. Even though dialogue is king in this production, it contains its share of special effects. It is in this area that we can sadly notice a budget barrier which is the film’s biggest defect.

The vampires of ‘Salem’s Lot are darker and more savage that what we are used to seeing. The global atmosphere is also very particular. I better recognize Stephen King’s style in this adaptation that in the Salem’s Lot released in 1979.

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Once Upon a Time in the West

2007-08-25T12:18:00.000-07:00

Some movies you just have to stand back in awe of. Lawrence of Arabia is certainly one. Certainly select titles from Scorsese or Spielberg are others. It doesn’t take vast landscapes or epic lengths to achieve such a status, although several have failed trying for such majesty. Sergio Leone’s “Man with No Name” trilogy with Clint Eastwood always stirs a special deep-rooted place in film lovers. It’s concluding chapter, “The Good, The Bad and the Ugly” is reserved on a small list of the usual suspects people spout when announcing their favorite western alongside The Searchers, Unforgiven or just about anything from the school of Wayne, Ford or Eastwood. For me, it will always be Leone’s follow-up to his monumental trilogy as a testament to both the mythology of the west and the heights to which the genre can travail.

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We open on one of the great opening stretches of cinema ever conducted; devoid of music yet lyrical in both its audacity and the way simple sounds create a melody of their own. (The sound of a windmill will have you whistling for hours.) Those who thought Touch of Evil or the Superman films had long opening credits, will barely even notice the words being shot across the screen here as the mystery and anticipation of the scene builds over 14 minutes.

Three men (Jack Elam, Woody Strode and Al Mulock) have arrived at a train station to wait. For what or whom is to be discovered and the why will take even longer. Their menacing presence suggest something disreputable is afoot, but in many ways they act as if these are the last moments of their lives. One relaxes, another drinks water courtesy of a leak and his hat while the third makes a rattle out of a fly and a gun barrel. When their package does arrive in the form of Charles Bronson, Leone’s traditional tough-guy dialogue is a prelude to a reminder that everything that took so long to create can be ended in an instant through violence. (“Inside the dusters there were three men. Inside the men there were three bullets.”)

That we can derive so much out of the opening quarter-hour of the film is a testament to Leone's preparation for the journey we’re about to embark on. This is a land where unscrupulous men hide in the bushes waiting to massacre a father, a girl and two young boys. Their leader, Frank (Henry Fonda) was willing to spare the youngest member until a rider carelessly speaks his name. Such a lesson is one that Frank may have learned too late.

The McBain’s patriarch on that very day was awaiting his new bride, Jill (Claudia Cardinale). Her arrival is something almost out of Blazing Saddles as the class structure of the day is laid out in a single shot. Men talk of stock. Women assist and remain quiet. Blacks carry the bags and the “red-skinned warriors” are unloaded like cattle. OK, Leone isn’t subtle. Even the slaughtered Irish immigrants have red hair and the daughter sings “Danny Boy.” But it’s his grays that make the story so compelling.

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Bronson fills in Eastwood’s shoes, going only by the name of Harmonica thanks to his instrument of choice and the sinister tune he establishes as his trademark. He nearly gets himself into a showdown with escaped convict Cheyenne (Jason Robards), wrongly accused of the McBain massacre. Their confrontation consists of the kind of banter that will either make them mortal enemies or the best of friends. (“Do you only know how to play? Or do you know how to shoot?”)

All three men will be in contact with Jill to either explain, protect or finish off. Her independence to remain on the land of her new husband despite her belief that he lied about his riches, doesn’t quite make her Scarlett O’Hara, but still represents an early vestige of a new America where women might have an equal say. Cheyenne believes a fortune does reside somewhere within Sweetwater (considered a wasteland), but may be soon to discover something much more valuable on the property that reminds him of his mother. (“She was the biggest whore in Alameda and the greatest woman who ever lived.”)

Railroad baron Morton (Gabriele Ferzetti) also has his eye on the land and has employed Frank and his men to help him snare it. As plot-heavy as this all sounds, nearing an epic length of three hours, it’s the passages in-between the exposition (which never feels as such) that grants the film its historic status. The interplay between Frank and Morton is the century-old theme of man vs. the capitalist system. The railroad has always been an all-too symbolic gesture of the genre along with the dying breed of cowboy that can be seen as recent as both Open Range AND Seabiscuit, but its never been so well-represented.

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Frank understands his time may be coming to a close and acknowledges the existence of the country’s next evolution as he sits behind Morton’s desk. (“Almost like holding a gun. Only much more powerful.”) Morton knows that the only power in the world strong enough to stop other weapons is money itself. But it cannot buy time and he, himself, is dying from tuberculosis. His only dream is to one day see his train make it all the way to the Atlantic Ocean just so he can see the water. The irony of his imminence is almost too much to bear.

Fonda’s performance as Frank has always received the most ink in regards to Leone’s masterpiece, thanks to the genius to cast him so far against type that no train track could ever reach. For the man that played Tom Joad, Honest Abe, Wyatt Earp (and any other All-American Hero that James Stewart didn’t get his hands on) to play such a cold-blooded killer; a man who would shoot down a young boy in cold blood and kick the crutch out from a cripple, well, the words couldn’t possibly describe how brilliant the performance is.

Bronson is at his Western best and Robards is a joy-and-a-half as the scruffy outlaw with more of a heart than he will ever admit. Cardinale is a stunning beauty and is easy to look at, but hard to watch as that beauty is nearly taken advantage of at every turn. Cheyenne takes note on several occasions and Harmonica even rips her clothing wide open before entendre-ing himself out of it by asking for water (“From the well. I like my water fresh.”) She accepts Frank’s advances (is it exactly rape?) while he whispers anything but sweet nothings in her ear. The way she plays this scene to her advantage without resorting to immediate revenge tactics is a testament to both Jill and Cardinale.

For what is primarily a four-person tale, two other characters emerge which are just as important to the overall feel of the film. The first is Ennio Morricone’s virtuoso score, arguably his best, that adapts four different themes to each of its characters and blends appropriately and seamlessly at any given time. The other, if you haven’t already guessed is the dialogue, credited in the English version to Mickey Knox with a story and screenplay credited to Leone, Sergio Donati and two other little Italian film giants by the name of Dario Argento and Bernando Bertolucci. Brief exchanges between the passages of silence and operatic grandiose are as perfect as they come. (“How can you trust a man who wears both a belt and suspenders? Man can’t even trust his own pants.”) How the mighty quipsters over at ESPN SportsCenter have failed to cleverly insert some of these lines into their movieline lexicon is beyond me.

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Leone juxtaposes themes over plot and character development so thinly that even multiple viewings may have you too enraptured to even notice them. A constant of waiting is reintroduced throughout and how the ancient archetype of man will soon be absorbed into a system of venture capital. (“So you’re not a businessman after all.” “Just a man.” “An ancient race.”) Characters will fight to the death to preserve that right and the climactic 10-minute showdown comes full circle with the film’s opening sequence. This world of men will certainly not disappoint those looking for a good shootout from a town ambush to a splendid moving train rescue. Violence is an inescapable finality here, but also a place where a man can earn the right to pat a woman’s behind through hard work. And where the woman can act as if it doesn’t bother her.

Once Upon a Time in the West has been one of the great silently tapped resources for filmmakers in the last 35 years. No one with a concept of film history nor just a great love for all that is cinema will deny that its one of the greatest westerns ever made. It’s greatest argument seem to just be one of great confusion over what its official running time is. Widely known to have been cut for American audiences, a length of 180 minutes floats around different articles while a 165-minute “original uncut” print is the one that has been distributed on video, laserdisc (and soon to be DVD) for years. It’s this cut that I’ve seen time and time again. How can you trust a man that lists both a 165 and a 180-minute cut? Then again, with a film as timeless as the version I’ve seen, what does it matter if the number is correct? I’m still in awe.

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Remember the Alamo?

2007-08-21T14:27:00.000-07:00

Remember the Alamo? Well, it's back in a film that is easy to admire and difficult to like. John Lee Hancock's new epic "The Alamo" traces the events and players responsible for the most famous battle fought within Texas, yet the film's ability to stay faithful to the circumstances of the battle makes this a remarkably mature production that dares to puncture legends and myths.

It is not hard to see similarities between the battle for the Alamo and the current quagmire in Iraq. Both situations were born of fanciful political marketing, blatant lies, inadequate leadership and woefully incompetent military planning. One cannot help feel queasy noticing the film's vague talk of bringing freedom to Texas alongside the American introduction of slavery to a territory which never knew it--mirror that to today's talk of bringing democracy to Iraq albeit without the basic concept of one man/one vote, which is the foundation of genuine democracy. Grand notions of liberty, it seems, is political Silly Putty that can be stretched and distorted across the ages.

Unlike John Wayne's entertaining cartoon version of history, Hancockâ€˜s "The Alamo" clearly indicts the Texas leadership for the vanity, venality and dishonesty which brought about the tragic events in San Antonio. Sam Houston (Dennis Quaid) is a loud, lying, manipulative, reckless and self-indulgent force of nature. Lt. Col. William Travis (Patrick Wilson) is a vain, pompous, snotty character who doesn't think twice of divorcing his wife but would sooner board their son with strangers than allow the boy's mother to have custody. Jim Bowie (Jason Patric) is a boorish, vile, arrogant adventurer. Davy Crockett (Billy Bob Thornton) is a charlatan ex-Congressman who happily accepts the adulation spun by the tall tales surrounding his supposed adventures, which including jumping across the Mississippi River and riding a lightning bolt.

With such individuals in charge, it is no wonder that the Alamo fell. And while these depictions are completely accurate in regards to history, it makes "The Alamo" a tough endeavor to embrace. In this film, no one flag-waving and speaking mightily of liberty. Instead, we have a bunch of self-serving egotists whose stupidity and arrogance brought about ruin. Who wants to cheer for this?

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The answer: everyone should. At long last, Hollywood has created a historic epic which presents the facts properly. "The Alamo" has the maturity to recall the events of the distant past with a stark honesty that challenges those who can only think in terms of black and white, right and wrong. Anyone who wants heroes to worship should go back to the John Wayne version. This film is not about mythic icons, but about seriously flawed and deeply selfish men who found themselves in a situation that spiraled tragically out of control. For once, the truth about the Alamo is on film. It is not a pleasant picture, but for those with intelligence it is an invigorating drama that will haunt the memory for a long time.

From a production standpoint, "The Alamo" is a peerless work of art. Dean Semler's cinematography brilliantly captures the dirt and the grime of the Alamo within the doomed fort and boldly exploits the extravagant colors of Santa Anna's gaudy army (the richness in the colors of the generalâ€™s prized china is stunning to behold). Daniel Orlandi's costumes are among the finest I've seen on screen in ages. Eric L. Beason's editing of both the final attack on the Alamo and the subsequent Battle of San Jacinto (which resulted in the capture of Santa Anna and the treaty giving Texas its independence) is exciting and imaginative. Hancock's forced limitations of a PG-13 rating keep the violence and gore ratio low, which is fine since he has no problems detailing the horrors of war without flooding the screen in fake blood.

The acting is almost perfect. Billy Bob Thornton is especially effective as Davy Crockett, never losing his politician's ability to please everyone while quietly maintaining an unvanquished pursuit of self-respect (his gentle reminder that he prefers to be called David rather than Davy is especially wonderful). The performance is wonderfully underplayed and rich in charisma. Jason Patric's Jim Bowie is so brilliantly reprehensible that it becomes easy to cheer Santa Anna's troops when they bayonet him. His scene when he send his black slave out of harm's way but refuses to give the man his papers for freedom is chilling, and Patric takes risks in playing the character without an iota of a redeeming feature. The one mistake in the cast is Dennis Quaid as Sam Houston, who frequently comes across like Yosemite Sam in his oversized tirades. However, his role is a supporting effort and he is not on screen enough to do any damage.

"The Alamo" will not please those who prefer their history in simple black and white. Hancock's bravery in not sugar-coating the story of the siege is the most commendable achievement to come from a studio production since Lord knows when. Finally, someone has the balls to acknowledge the emptiness surrounding the mythology of a sacred piece of Americana. This is a huge gamble and audiences may not have the courage to accept it. But then again, when did the general population ever have the courage to accept truth when it was laid out in front of them?

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The Planets. Have you ever wanted to know more about how the planets that surround us, and the heavens that surround them?

2007-08-20T00:06:00.000-07:00

STORY:
Have you ever wanted to know more about how the planets that surround us, and the heavens that surround them? If you answered yes to that question, you're in for a real treat with this release from A&E, entitled The Planets. If you want to know something about this solar system works, more than likely the information you seek is found in this release. This features interviews with over one thousand people, including scientists, engineers, and even astronauts. In other words, you hear from almost every perspective, which provides a wide, expansive take on the subject. But interviews aren't the only content here, as many other sources are used to explain the outer space world around us. This release contains rare NASA archive footage, images from the Hubble and other scientific instruments, and computer graphics designed to enrich the experience of learning about the realm that surrounds us. This release covers the space race, the search for alien life, possible human habitation on other planets, and nearly every other topic you can imagine.
A&E has issued this fantastic documentary, which was produced in association with the BBC, in an excellent DVD release. The documentary is presented on four single sided, single layered discs, which are packed together in a nice boxed set. The discs are decorated nicely, and form one larger spine when the discs are lined up inside the included box. The audio/video is excellent, and the overall documentary quality is very high. The high price will exclude some from purchasing this set, but I feel the under $20 per disc price is reasonable. If you're an astronomy buff, or just enjoy a good documentary, this is a stellar release, one that should not be missed. Below is a listing of the discs and their content.
Disc One: Different Worlds & Terra Firma- This is a look back at events that changed the way we looked at the surrounding heavens, including the discovery of Pluto, and the works of early astronomers. Terra Firma looks at some of the more unique surface features of the planets, such as giant volcanos on Mars, Venus' toxic clouds, and many more.
Disc Two: Giants & Moon- Giants deals with the Voyager program, and takes a historic look at the most massive of the planets. Moons covers the space race the U.S. entered with Russia, and the effects therein.
Disc Three: Star & Atmosphere- Star focuses on the importance and functions of the Sun, while Atmosphere looks at the lethal atmospheres of other planets, and ponders if time could allow for human habitation.
Disc Four: Life Beyond The Sun & Destiny- The first episode offers a glimpse at where we could go if forced to leave this planet, while Destiny looks at what might happen over the next few billion years.

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VIDEO:

This release uses several different types of footage, so of course, the quality varies from shot to shot. Whether the image is computer generated graphics or a home video camera feed, you're not going to be disappointed here. Each format looks the best it can given the origins, but of course the professional footage is going to be sharper than that of the home video camera variety. This is sharper and more defined than broadcast quality and free from compression errors, so I think you'll be pleased with the overall visual presentation.

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Singin' In The Rain. Best comedy!!!

2007-08-18T22:19:00.000-07:00

Singin' In The Rain. Best comedy!!!

Other musicals might be more complex, but none is more beautiful or stylish then this classic ode to the studio system. Ostensibly, Singin' In The Rain is the story of the transition in Hollywood from silent films to talkies as personified by Don Lockwood (Gene Kelly), with some dances and a romance thrown in. The truth of the matter is that it is the last great studio film before drastic changes ocurred. The year after this movie, Otto Preminger jumped into a fight with the censors over the use of words like "virgin" and "pregnant" in The Moon Is Blue, which challenged the kind of wholesome and entirely within studio lines movie that this is. None of this is a criticism -far from it. It's just to point out that this movie is an exemplary example of a style of film.

Stanley Donen (a great director in his own right: see Charade, Funny Face and Royal Wedding, among others) co-directed this movie with dancer Gene Kelly. Kelly was a polished director in his own right, although his films tended to come out a bit flat (Les Girls, Invitation To The Dance). Wisely, he co-directed his first three directorial efforts with Donen; Singin' In The Rain was the second of the films they made together, preceeded by On The Town and followed by It's Always Fair Weather. Together, they give the musical an aesthetic sheen that it rarely saw; most musical directors, such as George Sydney (Kiss Me Kate) and Mark Sandrich (Top Hat) shied away from much camera movement besides camera movement during musical numbers. Singin' In The Rain has only such number: the title rendition of the title song. The rest of the songs have gorgeous crane, tracking and panning shots. The editing and other technical efforts are similarly superlative.

Singin' In The Rain is also a hilarious comedy. Donald O'Connor was never better than here, playing the wise-cracking best friend of Kelly; he was born into a vaudeville family, making him perfectly qualified to play a former vaudeville actor. The lines are the kind that only Hollywood can produce, and the humor concerning the difficulties Hollywood had in adjusting to sound, and, more generally, the troubles directors go through is dead on. The film's befuddled hero, symbol of the old Hollywood, is Douglas Fowley as befuddled director Roscoe; any amateur director will instantly relate to his struggles with the misunderstand-ing idiots around him.

What else is there to say? The movie is a tribute to good, honest films that entertain the masses; it has no time or patience for "elitist" art-house films. Indeed, Debbie Reynolds' character becomes likable only when it is discovered that she is not, as she professes, a theater actress but a sort of chorus girl. The audience I saw this movie with applauded vigorously 3 times throughout this almost fifty year old movie. Proof from others, not just me and the real critics, that this movie is one of the great achievements of American cinema.

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"The Invasion". Movies.

2007-08-17T13:03:00.000-07:00

"The Invasion"
Nicole Kidman, Daniel Craig
Directed by Oliver Hirschbiegel

Don’t believe the bad buzz -- "The Invasion" is actually a pretty decent movie. It’s not great or anything, but it’s a lot better than I expected it to be. And that's a pleasant surprise, given all the drama surrounding its production.

It all started a year ago, when the fourth big screen version of Jack Finney’s novel “The Body Snatchers” was originally supposed to come out. But after early preview screenings tested poorly, producer Joel Silver commissioned 17 days of reshoots in an effort to pump up the action. When word of those reshoots leaked out to the Internet, "The Invasion" was pegged as an over-budgeted train wreck. Warner Bros. only added fuel to the fire when it pushed back its release date to late August, generally seen as a dumping ground for sub-par studio films.

Whatever may have been wrong with it before, it seems to have been fixed. Well, maybe not completely fixed, but at least it works. For while there’s no question that "The Invasion" falls short of the scary 1956 original film and the disturbing 1978 remake, it's still better than the little-seen 1994 version. And regardless of the inevitable comparisons, the latest adaptation stands on its own as an engaging, entertaining sci-fi thriller that’s definitely worth seeing.

In a fierce performance, Oscar-winner Nicole Kidman plays Carol Bennell, a psychiatrist who doesn’t realize that something is rotten in Washington DC (other than the Bush Administration). When a space shuttle disaster showers the area with debris, the people who come into contact with it start acting strange. It turns out that the debris was covered with an unknown substance that attacks them while they sleep, stripping them of their emotions and replacing them with mindless alien duplicates.

By the time Bennell and fellow doctor Ben Driscoll (Daniel Craig) realize what’s at stake, they are hopelessly outnumbered by the hive-like beings quickly taking over the planet. Their only hope lies with Bennell’s son (Jackson Bond), who doesn’t seem to be affected by the powerful affect of the spores. But in order to buy some time to utilize that immunity to find a cure, Bennell must figure out a way to blend in with the invaders, remain calm and, most of all, stay awake.

If “The Invasion” feels a bit uneven, it should -- it was directed by two different people at various times over the course of two years. Oliver Hirschbiegel, who directed 2004’s gripping World War II drama “Downfall,” took a first pass in 2005 and infuses the film with an impending sense of psychological paranoia. But about a year later, James McTeigue (“V for Vendetta”) took over for an uncredited polish, during which he added a few car chases to kick up the action. The resulting patch job works, even if it does feel rushed along with under-developed supporting characters and an underwhelming conclusion that lacks the impact of the earlier versions.

But if those adaptations were political allegories of their time, then the newest version also has something to say (though it’s not nearly as subtle about it). At the same time the alien epidemic traverses the planet, the violence ends in Iraq, Darfur and the Middle East. So while the aliens may not have emotions, they don’t suffer either. Kind of makes you wonder who the villains really are here. Not bad for a movie that had such a hard time getting made.

"Innerspace Invaders"
by Scott Mantz

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Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, The

2007-08-16T13:35:00.000-07:00

An ancient Ring thought lost for centuries has been found, and through a strange twist in fate has been given to a small Hobbit named Frodo. When Gandalf discovers the Ring is in fact the One Ring of the Dark Lord Sauron, Frodo must make an epic quest to the Cracks of Doom in order to destroy it! However he does not go alone. He is joined by Gandalf, Legolas the elf, Gimli the Dwarf, Aragorn, Boromir and his three Hobbit friends Merry, Pippin and Samwise. Through mountains, snow, darkness, forests, rivers and plains, facing evil and danger at every corner the Fellowship of the Ring must go. Their quest to destroy the One Ring is the only hope for the end of the Dark Lords reign!

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5 Steps To Get Your Movie Done In 2007

2007-08-15T22:19:00.000-07:00

New years resolutions are usually about fixing the things that did not go right the year before. Most of the time they involve losing weight or getting that better job or even finally writing the great American novel, but for a select few, it means finally getting that first movie done. This is the time to forget about all the forces that are against you and lay to rest all the reasons, especially from others, why you can't do it. Now is the time to take positive action. No matter how true the statement, "Just do it." is far easier to say than actually making film. To that end, here's 5 steps to get your movie done in 2007.

1. Be in the right mindset. What this means is that if you don't have millions of dollars to play with or major studio backing, you are not going to make a "Lord of the Rings" level epic your first time out. I've read forum posts from many accomplished animators who are convinced their movie must compete with the works of Pixar or not be made at all. Some people tell me about their dream project and it is so big that it has to have millions of dollars behind it to get off the ground, and they conclude because of this that they can't make a film. My question is, why can't that be their third or even fourth film? Don't kill your project before it even begins with this type of thinking. I am not saying don't have big dreams. I am saying work your way up to big dreams. Some of the biggest names in Hollywood started out with a cheesy horror film. Be in the mindset that your first film is just that, your first and not your last film.

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2. Start with what you have. If you're sitting in your room and all you have available is a laptop, a DV camera and some decent editing software, it's not time to make Star Wars. Robert Rodriguez had a guitar case, a turtle, a bus and some areas in Mexico he could shoot in, and around this he crafted "El Mariachi". It should also be noted that he made this and other small movies before his epic "Once Upon a Time in Mexico". The same goes for animators who think they must use software like Maya or work the Pixar way. If you cannot afford the expensive tools, give serious consideration to free, open source animation software like Blender, or low cost tools like Poser. Some friends of mine recently bought a video game called "The Movies". Once you play your way through the game, building up a virtual studio, you unlock features that give you a plethora of sets, characters and costumes. You're given complete camera controls and simple editing tools that allow you to record soundtracks, add music and finish a virtual movie in just about any genre. This would be classified as the digital film making technique called Machinima. If Machinima is all that is available to you right now, do that! You can still tell your story and show your skill as a film maker even in an entirely virtual world.

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3. Create a real schedule. Many film makers have the tools and the talent. Some even create bits of their project here and there, but failing to craft a real schedule, the project never gets done. Before long, they move on to some "better" idea. What could be better than getting it done? If you have a day job, make a commitment to work on your film at least one hour per night and full time on weekends. If you have other commitments, such as family, karate class or anything else, build a schedule around them, but build a schedule and stick to it. Chris Nolan, known today for "Batman Begins" made his first film, "Following", on weekends. He and his friends who acted in the film had day jobs, but they went out every weekend and got a little bit more of the film done. Create milestones and set out to reach them. Decide from the start how much of the film should be done in three months, in six months, in nine months and work to reach these milestones. Create smaller monthly milestones to reach and check them off so that you can be inspired by seeing progress.

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4. Be prepared to compromise. If you're not contracting SAG actors and paying big money, you can't have the control of the major studio. If you're using your friends as actors, they have lives and commitments too. People are going to change hairstyles, gain weight, grow beards and even get sick and you are going to have to work with it. If you are doing digital film making or animation, technology can change right out from under you. I don't recommend upgrading computers and software in the middle of a project, but computers do die. It happens all the time. The next computer you get may not run your favorite software properly. You will have to work around such things. Never get stuck in the idea that it has to be one way or not at all. This is a surefire setup for failure. Be open to input from all quarters. Your actors have ideas too, and if they're not being paid, they also want to get something out of the project. Let them try their ideas and have a voice.

5. Edit your vision. Chances are your first independent film isn't going to be what you saw in your head. Even the big guys who have millions of dollars rarely get there. When your vision gets in the way of getting it done, it's time to make some cuts. You may have to lose some scenes or ideas you really love when it comes down to really completing your project. If you can't afford to realize what is in your mind on screen, and do it properly, it is better to find a work around. You may think you shot something masterful on the day, but in editing realize it just doesn't work. Let it go if you have to. If your vision sees you shooting in a particular location and it turns out you can't get it, you don't stop the film, you change the vision. Many big directors who can do anything often lament that they were at their most creative when they had nothing. It may be frustrating on the day, but changing your vision can still result in magic.

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Many independent film makers will tell you that, starting out, the most important thing is not story or character development, it's getting it done. Odd as it may seem, it is better to get it done, even if it is horribly bad, than to fail trying to get it done right. How can this be, you say? Well, it is far better to have a film you can fix than to have nothing to work with at all. In fact, you should get your first pass on the film done as quickly as possible. You may not be finished, but you got it done. Now you can watch it as a movie and start to really work on making it great. You can plan a re-shoot or two, make a new scene here or there, fix some digital FX. You can do anything because it's small by comparison to starting from scratch. You already got it done. Now you're just perfecting it. Make sure to stick to your deadlines though. After all, they often say movies never get finished, they just get released.

It's that time of year and new years resolutions abound. For select few, that new years resolution means deciding to get their movie done in 2007. This article provides five help steps to see that dream become a reality.

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

2007-08-12T17:46:00.000-07:00

Genres: Adventure, Fantasy, Mystery, Thriller

Actors: Eric Sykes | Timothy Spall | David Tennant | Daniel Radcliffe | Emma Watson | Rupert Grint | Mark Williams | James Phelps | Oliver Phelps | Bonnie Wright | Jeff Rawle | Robert Pattinson | Jason Isaacs | Tom Felton | Stanislav Ianevski

Directors: Mike Newell |

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Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire is the fourth novel in the Harry Potter series written by J.K. Rowling. Published on July 8, 2000, the release of this book was surrounded by more hype than any other book in recent times — outdone only by its successors, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix , Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. The book attracted much additional attention because of a pre-publication warning from J.K. Rowling that one of the characters would be murdered in the book. This started a stream of rumour and speculation as to who the murdered character would be

Batman Begins

2007-08-12T17:39:00.000-07:00

Genres: Action, Adventure, Crime, Fantasy, Thriller

Actors: Christian Bale | Michael Caine | Liam Neeson | Katie Holmes | Gary Oldman | Cillian Murphy | Tom Wilkinson | Rutger Hauer | Ken Watanabe | Mark Boone Junior | Linus Roache | Morgan Freeman | Larry Holden | Gerard Murphy | Colin McFarlane

Directors: Christopher Nolan |

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Batman Begins is a 2005 superhero film based on the fictional DC Comics character Batman. Christopher Nolan directed the film, which stars Christian Bale as Batman, as well as Michael Caine, Gary Oldman, Liam Neeson, Katie Holmes, Cillian Murphy and Morgan Freeman.
After the commercial and critical failure of Joel Schumacher's Batman & Robin in 1997, Begins was a reboot of the Batman film franchise. The lighter comic-toned direction Schumacher had taken the franchise was abandoned, and the new film was written about Batman's origins with some inspirations from classic comic book storylines such as Batman: The Man Who Falls, Batman: Year One, and Batman: The Long Halloween. The film was the first live action film to depict this stage of the character's history.
Batman Begins was successful, and a sequel titled The Dark Knight is commissioned for a 2008 release with both Nolan and Bale returning.

American Beauty

2007-08-12T17:28:00.000-07:00

Genres: Drama

Actors: Kevin Spacey | Annette Bening | Thora Birch | Wes Bentley | Mena Suvari | Chris Cooper | Peter Gallagher | Allison Janney | Scott Bakula | Sam Robards | Barry Del Sherman | Ara Celi | John Cho | Fort Atkinson | Sue Casey |

Directors: Sam Mendes |

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American Beauty is a 1999 drama film that explores themes of romantic and paternal love, freedom, beauty, self-liberation, existentialism, the search for happiness, and family against the backdrop of modern American suburbia. The film was the screen debut for writer Alan Ball and director Sam Mendes and starred Kevin Spacey and Annette Bening; all four were nominated for Oscars. In 2000 it won five Academy Awards, including Best Picture.

Mona Lisa Smile

2007-08-12T17:23:00.000-07:00

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Mona Lisa Smile is a 2003 film that was produced by Revolution Studios and Columbia Pictures, directed by Mike Newell, written by Lawrence Konner and Mark Rosenthal, and starring Julia Roberts, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Kirsten Dunst, and Julia Stiles. The title is a reference to the Mona Lisa, the famous painting by Leonardo da Vinci, and the song of the same name, originally performed by Nat King Cole, which was covered by Seal for the movie. The film is a loose adaptation of The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, a novel by Muriel Spark, and the title also references that text.

The Shawshank Redemption

2007-08-12T17:11:00.000-07:00

Genres: Drama

Actors: Tim Robbins | Morgan Freeman | Bob Gunton | William Sadler | Clancy Brown | Gil Bellows | Mark Rolston | James Whitmore | Jeffrey DeMunn | Larry Brandenburg | Neil Giuntoli | Brian Libby | David Proval | Joseph Ragno | Jude Ciccolella |

Directors: Frank Darabont |

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The Shawshank Redemption is a 1994 American movie, written and directed by Frank Darabont, based on the Stephen King novella, Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption. The film stars Tim Robbins as Andy Dufresne and Morgan Freeman as Ellis Boyd "Red" Redding.

The film portrays Andy's twenty years in the cruelty of Shawshank State Prison, a fictional penitentiary in Maine, and his friendship with Red, a fellow inmate. Despite a poor box office reception, Shawshank Redemption received favorable reviews from critics and has enjoyed a remarkable life on cable television, home video, and DVD, and continues to be noticed by popular culture. It is consistently ranked amongst the greatest movies of all time.

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"The Invasion" Nicole Kidman, Daniel Craig Directed by Oliver Hirschbiegel

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"The Invasion"
Nicole Kidman, Daniel Craig
Directed by Oliver Hirschbiegel