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Film

Jan Hrebejik's
Beauty in Trouble (Kraska V Nesnazich)
Opens June 13, 2008

Written By: Petr Jarchovsky, story by Petr Jarchovsky, Jan Krebejk

Starring: Ana Geislerova; Roman Luknar; Emilia Vasaryova; Jana Brejchova; Jiri Schmitzer; Josef Abrham; Jan Hrusinsky; Jiri Machacek; Andrei Toader; Nikolai Penev; Jaromira Milova; Adam Misik; Michaela Mrvikova; andRaduza.

Mememsha Films

Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten

Grade: A-

This stunning film which deservedly won the Grand Jury Prize at the 2006 Karlovy Vary Festival and Best Feature Film at the Denver International Festival, at base asks the question: Which is more important—hot sex with a rough, working-class thief, or material splendor with a rich, gentle, older fellow? But this is where any similarity between "Beauty in Trouble" ("Kraska V Nesnazich" as it's called in Czech), and soap opera, ends. Jan Hrebejik's film written by Petr Jarchovsky from the writer and director's story contrasts culture with boorishness, loyalty with change, the urban sophistication of the Czech capital with the rustic beauty of Italy's famed Tuscany. The acting is superb all around with a lovely soundtrack featuring some songs taken from the movie Once. The multi-character story is rich in human dimension, Hrebejik and Jarchovsky shucking off all caricatures to show that people (like you and me) have both positive and negative sides which can emerge either without apparent cause or in response to the way we're treated at any moment.

The writer-director team's previous feature Up and Down—about small-time smugglers who discover an abandoned baby, triggering consequences among a disparate group of people—selected the challenging title of this one from a Robert Graves poem which became the inspiration for a popular Czech song which goes "Beauty in trouble flees to the good angel/ On whom she can rely/ To pay her cab-fare, run a steaming bath,/ Poultice her bruised eye" and which concludes "Virtue, good angel, is its own reward."

We're made privy to the lives of disparate people, as in Up and Down, folks who are imperfect in different ways but who deserve our sympathy even as they choose wrong actions. Marcela Cmolikova (Ana Geislerova), for example, is fated to love two men for different reasons, a woman who may live out the rest of her life as though in conflict with society's mandate to select and remain loyal to only one. Her husband, Jarda Smolik (Roman Luknar), is a thief who steals cars and quickly remakes them for sale in his garage. Criminality aside, we understand that he and his family were wiped out by a flood that hit Prague in 2002 and destroyed their uninsured home. Jarda and Marcela must provide a decent life for themselves and their two adorable kids, Lucina (Michaela Mrvikova) and Kuba (Adam Misik). In one of the film's many comic scenes, the children cover their ears as they must do nightly as their parents have loud, incredible sex in the adjoining room. When Jarda is caught and sent to jail, the rest of his family are forced to move into the cramped home of Marcela's mother, Zdena (Jana Brejchova) and Zdena's surly second husband, Richard Hrstka (Jiri Schmitzer), the latter resenting their presence and making efforts to get them out. Even here we are invited to find sympathy for Marcela's stepfather, as he is sick with diabetes and is eager to get back to his own sexual life with his wife.

When Marcela meets Evzen Benes (Josef Abrham), the wealthy owner of the car whose theft led to her husband's imprisonment, she is surprised, after a brief courtship, to be invited to the gentleman's lavish Tuscany digs—an invitation she accepts despite the large difference in age in order to keep her family together. This new courtship is opposed by her mother-in-law (Emilia Vasaryova), a fervently religious woman sticking up for the sanctity of marriage.

Class differences allow for comic scenes, particularly at the dinner table where in a restaurant overlooking the Vltava River (which the Czech composer Bedrich Smetana immortalized in The Moldau) she is introduced to sushi and makes the mistake committed by Sam Malone in one episode of Cheers of taking in a full mouthful of the hot green wasabi condiment. While Benes, a vintner, relishes a glass of dry wine, Marcela finds the grape tolerable only when she combines it with a cola.

Among the cast members who excel we'd have to include Jiri Schmitzer who, in the role of the nasty stepfather Richard tells his nephew and niece the unvarnished truth about their dad after having some time before rhetorically asked the teenage girl "Have the boys in school felt you up yet?" He redeems himself in one heartbreaking moment. Ultimately the film belongs to Ana Geislerova, the conflicted Marcela who, upon her husband's release from prison must decide between a life of material and psychological security with a much older man or her less predictable situation with a sexual dynamo. A fast-paced conclusion provides an interesting, complex answer.

Photographer Jan Malir exploits the russet beauty of Tuscany and the medievalflavor of sections of Prague in a film that has enough respect for the character to treat them in all their conflicting dimensions.

Note: The Czechs produce fine films of their own, obviously, but Prague, with its Barrandov Studio, is also a favorite spot for Hollywood film-makers. See my article in Film Journal November 2007.

Randall Miller's
Bottle Shock
Opens Friday, August 8, 2008

Written By: Randall Miller

Starring: Alan Rickman; Chris Pine; Bill Pullman; Rachael Taylor; Freddy Rodriguez; Bradley Whitford; Eliza Dushku; Dennis Farina; and Miguel Sandoval.

Freestyle Releasing
Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: B+

In these cynical times which find the U.S. plagued by an endless war, a weak dollar, rising unemployment and growing inflation, and some clear divisions between Red states and Blue states, sophisticated movie audiences cannot be blamed for wanting to see crowd-pleasing pictures with an IQ greater than 60. Such an audience uplift movie launches in August of this year, is based on a true incident, and may just be the most nationalistic picture you'll see all year. Bottle Shock does not relate to the out-of-sight prices you'll have to pay for wine but to one of the lesser known celebrations that took place during our country's bicentennial. (The title literally refers to the disturbance that could ruin wine if shipped in airplane cargo sections.) Just one year after the Vietnam War ended to few Americans' satisfaction, the U.S. beat the French in what might at least questionably be called a sport. Bottle Shock also depicts the enjoyable socking-it-to-you of a character that is a virtual caricature of a snob in the style of Maggie Smith's Lady Hester Random in Franco Zeffirelli's Tea With Mussolini.

Sundance-premiered Bottle Shock takes us back to 1976 when a California wine competed with the product of vintners from France, the country considered by oenophiles to have the world's best grapes and the world's most fabulous food. The thought that a Napa Valley vintner could stand up to Frenchwine-makers in France was considered laughable. But the film Bottle Shock shows not only how this happened, but the ways that the great victory might never have taken place at all.

Randall Miller, who wrote and directed the film, focuses his story on a father-son relationship, as well as on the virtues of the domestic grape. He centers his character study on the owner of Chateau Montelena, Jim Barrett (Bill Pullman) and his less ambitious son, Bo (Chris Pine). Jim was apparently doing fine as a law partner in a real estate firm when he decided he wanted a real job. With three loans from a bank, he struggled to keep his winery afloat, coming yea close to declaring bankruptcy and crawling back to the law firm with his tail between his legs. Meanwhile Gustavo (Freddy Rodriguez), far more ambitious than Bo, works for Jim while he dreams of starting his own vineyard.

The competition between the U.S. and France in a sport that requires little more than the ability to twist the wrist and spit expensive spirits into silver containers is launched when Steven Spurrier (Alan Rickman), a British expatriate in Paris who is friendly with Maurice Cantavale (Dennis Farina) and stuck with a failing wine business, decides to promote his career by sponsoring a contest between the two countries. But what's a fictionalized true story without a romance? Enter the hippie-ish, beautiful Sam Fulton (Rachael Taylor) who signs on with Jim's company as an intern while taking an understandable interest in Bo—particularly considering that the long-haired slacker resembles a younger Brad Pitt.

Director Miller helms his story like an urbane thriller pitting people whom the Brit and the French consider "hicks from the sticks" with their Gallic cousins across the pond who know quite a bit more about food and wine—or so they thought. The pace is slow at first. Miller takes time to develop his characters, punctuating the uneasy relationship between the aspiring dad and his lazy son who, when tension builds between them go into a ring with gloves and duke it out, each knocking the other man down several times in round one. Randall Miller, whose funky Marilyn Hotchkiss' Ballroom Dancing & Charm School deals with the search by a recent widower for a dying man's lost love at a school reunion, cuts back on that movie's gooey sentiment in favor of a rousing finale, which may not have the excitement of the recent Tiger Woods victory but allows us to leave in a good mood and without having to pick up our brains at the box office on the way out.

An epilogue notes that the bottle that beat the French is on display "at the Smithsonian Institute" (by which is probably meant the Smithsonian Institution). The entire movie is exquisitely photographed by Michael J. Ozier, whose shots of the vineyard just thirty-seven miles outside San Francisco is enough to motivate some of us to leave our cubicles for good and get our jeans dirty in the countryside. Postscriptum: As though conspiring the keep the under-17 audience away from pictures with soul, the MPAA rated this innocent movie "R" while awarding a PG-13 to the egregiously vulgar mediocrity, The Love Guru.

John Crowley’s
Boy A
Opens Wednesday July 23, 2008

Written By: Mark O'Rowe, from the novel by Jonathan Trigell
Starring: Andrew Garfield; Peter Mullan; Shaun Evans; and Katie Lyons

Reviewed at the 2008 Tribeca Film Festival by Frank J. Avella

John Crowley’s Boy A is the best narrative feature I’ve seen at this year’s Tribeca Film Festival. If handled correctly (delicately), it could be (should be) an indie sleeper. Granted the film does not have the comic uplift of a Juno or a Little Miss Sunshine but it does have some important and thought-provoking things to say about our society and the world we live in and how we view rehabilitation and redemption. It also contains an incredibly nuanced, star-making performance by newcomer Andrew Garfield (seen last year in the underrated Robert Redford gem Lions for Lambs).

The film opens with a 24-year old “boy,” about to be released from a British juvvy prison, choosing a name as he sits with his devoted caseworker. As the film flashes back and forward, we become privy to his unbelievable story. At the age of ten, Boy A was involved in committing a heinous crime and was hauled away. A decade later, the case is still fresh in the minds of the public as well as the media so “Jack” must start afresh and live his life carefully and wary of revealing who he really is to anyone.

The pic meticulously takes us into Jack’s daily life as he nervously makes new friends and even begins dating a co-worker (an impressive Katie Lyons). Jack is obviously still a young boy in a man’s body. He is forever haunted by memories of his past, and worried about whether he is even deserving of a second chance.

His caseworker, Peter (the always extraordinary Peter Mullan), has been his champion, mentor and protector but must now deal with his own mess of a son moving back in.

As the movie moves towards an inevitable reveal and people’s predictable reactions, the film keeps true to it’s bleak but honest themes about the difficulty of forgiveness and the dangers of the mob (and media) mentality. Jack may very well be a changed boy, but will he ever be allowed to live any type of normal life?

Based on the novel by Jonathan Trigell, the screenplay (by Mark O’Rowe) is smartly structured and probes the complexities of Jack’s impossible situation. We grow to like him and then we flashback to the murder, which makes our feelings all the grayer. Along the periphery the film also examines class and how that effects the boy’s situation.

Throughout the film, Garfield holds our attention, showing us Jack’s fears and newfound joys. We watch how he learns about the world anew (never having heard of a dvd), experiments with drugs (a hilarious scene with him dancing on Ecstasy) and clunkily stumbles through the awkward moments of falling in love for the first time. It is a truly remarkable performance.

Boy A does omit an important part of Jack’s story (possibly deliberately). We are never shown any moments from his time in prison. I would have loved a glimpse of his world and what it was like to be inside his head during some of the defining period of adolescence. But then that’s what a really good film does. It makes us want more.

John Crowley’s
Boy A
Opens Wednesday July 23, 2008

Written By: Mark O'Rowe, from the novel by Jonathan Trigell
Starring: Andrew Garfield; Peter Mullan; Shaun Evans; and Katie Lyons

The Weinstein Company
Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: B

At times Boy A looks more like a propaganda piece for penal reform, or more specifically, a plea that society understand that when prisoners are released, they've paid their debt. Society does appear at first to honor this idea when a fellow commits a heinous crime at the age of ten, is incarcerated in a juvenile facility for fourteen years, is given a new identity, apartment, job and a caring social worker who seems to have only one client. What's more, he appreciates what he's getting, is well-liked on a job he's overjoyed to have—one which comes with an outgoing girlfriend. Yet when "society" finds out that he was in jail not for stealing cars for joyrides but for murder, albeit far below the age of maturity, the people who heretofore accepted him think nothing of casting him out. His big mistake was to return to a Manchester nabe rather than to disappear in London, but that's another story.

Perhaps Boy A will deserve a rating better than "B" from Brit-crix. The biggest problem in this superbly acted downer is the dialogue, which is not as bad as what we put up with in Trainspotting (don't expect to understand Scottish if you're an all-American, but at least that pic had English subtitles—which Boy A could most decidedly use). One wonders why Peter Mullan, who plays a social worker who presumably has had a college education, must talk with a thick brogue, though we accept this as cinema verite from the mouth of his favorite client.

John Crowley's film, adapted by Mark O'Rowe from Jonathan Trigell's novel, is nicely edited by Lucia Zucchetti, who takes us seamlessly from the present to the protagonist's past at appropriate moments. Andrew Garfield, who played student Todd Hayes in Lions for Lambs, anchors the story in a career-making performance as Jack Burridge, a 24-year-old released from juvenile custody after fourteen years for a senseless murder he helped commit at the age of ten. He's most fortunate to be under the wing of a Terry (Peter Mullan) social worker who if anything is too dedicated to his job, a seriousness that ultimately proves disastrous to his client. Jack, whose real name is Eric Wilson, enjoys his job with a delivery company, a gig that affords him not only friendly co-workers but also girlfriend, Michelle (Katie Lyons) who is immediately attracted to the lad: From time to time, photographer Rob Hardy shows us that Jack is tormented by the past by allowing us to eavesdrop on his (Alfie Owen's) hanging out with the wrong company, namely Philip Craig (Taylor Doherty). His current fortune will prove all too good to be lasting.

Aside from its execution as a downbeat story, the real find is Andrew Garfield who evokes the shyness of a guy whose best years have been ruined in a prison cell, where in one scene he is tortured by fellow convicts. Katie Lyons as girlfriend Michelle convincingly brings the young man out of his shell while his caseworker, who is in loco parentis, provides more adult support. Peter Mullan, whose bio includes the starring role of Joe Kavanagh in the working-class study My Name is Joe, plays the sort of guy we'd all want as a dad—even if his own son takes exception.

Julian Jarrold's
Brideshead Revisted
Opens July 25, 2008

Written By: Andrew Davies; Jeremy Brock; from Evelyn Waugh's novel.

Starring: Emma Thompson; Michael Gambon; Matthew Goode; Ben Whishaw; Hayley Atwell; Stephen Merchant; Greta Scacchi; Ed Stoppard; Jonathan Cake;and Patrick Malahide.

Miramax Films
Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: B+

"The rich are very different from you and me," said F. Scott Fitzgerald, to which we can add by contrast that emotions remain the same in every century, across whole demographic strains. Evelyn Waugh's masterpiece, Brideshead Revisited, illustrates this point, the film adaptation by Julian Jarrold flawlessly illustrating the way a wealthy, aristocratic British family during the decades preceding World War II spend their days, seeking pleasure yet restrained by religious influences. What the viewer must remember, though, is that the restraints of the Catholic faith, to which Waugh converted, must not be looked upon as a negative. The major theme of the novel is that Divine Grace enters into the lives of people when they open themselves up to the Deity no matter how late in life the conversion, a process sometimes called being "born again."

The Evelyn Waugh novel was given an eleven-episode treatment on TV in 1981 under the direction of Charles Sturridge and Michael Lindsay-Hogg with Jeremy Irons and Anthony Andrews assuming the roles of the two principal characters. Compressing the novel (now available for just over ten bucks at Amazon) into just over two hours required Julian Jarrold to omit several minor characters from the tapestry, concentrating particularly on the relationship between young Charles Ryder (Matthew Goode, Match Point and The Lookout) and Sebastian Marchmain (Ben Whishaw, Perfume: The Story of a Murderer), a friendship that began when each entered Oxford University.

The current film gets the treatment we've come to associate with Merchant-Ivory productions, punctuating the privileges of the very rich during the decades that the aristocracy was to decline in Great Britain. Without sentimentality or preaching, Brideshead Revisited, adapted from the novel by Andrew Davies (Bridget Jones Diary) and Jeremy Brock (The Last King of Scotland), evokes the principal motifs: The importance of Catholicism; nostalgia for the age of English nobility; and the passionate, though platonic, relationship between Charles Ryder and Sebastian Flyte.

The story opens on Charles Ryder, a British officer during World War II who moves his men to a castle known as Brideshead. He wistfully recounts his days among the Marchmain family inhabiting what Charles considers the most beautiful home he had ever seen. While now a middle-aged, somewhat disillusioned fellow, he was just a naïve freshman at Oxford when he is introduced by Sebastian to an intimidating crowd of students. His friendship with Sebastian leads the latter's family to invite Charles to spend the summer, whereupon he slowly develops an affection for his friend's sister, Julia Flyte (Hayley Atwell, Cassandra's Dream). Though an atheist (an agnostic in the novel), he gains the trust of Lady Marchmain (Emma Thompson), who takes her Catholicism seriously, though her husband, Lord Marchmain (Michael Gambon) has moved to Venice with another woman, Cara (Greta Scacchi) Charles's atheism, however, makes him a poor match for Julia, who has been ordered by Lady Marchmain to marry a rich, boorish, Canadian businessman. Sebastian, an alcoholic who will eventually move far from his home to get away from his devout mother who controls him through guilt, proves to be a handful for both his family and Charles. As Charles's bond with Julia becomes firmer, we in the audience question the man's motives. Is he in love, or is he (despite his newly acquired fame as a painter) all too hungry for the trapping of aristocracy?

Filmed by Jess Hall to evoke the incredible wealth and privileges of the 20th century aristocracy in Britain, Brideshead Revisited is both a compelling piece of cinematography and a slow, painstaking look at the diverse fortunes of the anointed. As one non-believer after another—including to some extent Sebastian but more directly Sebastian's father, and even Charles—becomes "born again"—their dissolute lives become more constructive in ways that should be seen rather than revealed in a review. Brideshead Revisited is smart, handsome film-making without the usual summer panoply of special effects and computer generative industry, a picture graced by solid acting and a rich empathy with people who find themselves through religion rather than wealth.

Felicity Jones as Cordelia Flyte, Hayley Atwell as Julia Flyte,
Emma Thompson as Lady Marchmain and Matthew Goode
as Charles Ryder in Brideshead Revisited.

Julian Jarrold's
Brideshead Revisted
Opens July 25, 2008

Reviewed by Julia Sirmons

A film adaptation of a literary classic is difficult at the best of times. The situation is only complicated when said classic has already been televised in an epic, 13-hour mini-series starring a gaggle of Britain's literary talents, the prospect becomes even more daunting. Fortunately, director Julian Jarrolds has had the testicular fortitude to attempt a new version of Evelyn Waugh's Brideshead Revisited, resulting in a compelling and innovative take on one of Britain's
finest and most nuanced pieces of literature.

Needless to say, when condensing a 30-page book Page book (or an 11
hour miniseries) into a 2-hour, much will be lost in translation. Certain plot points are excised, several characters are reduced in significance, but this is all in aid of Jarrolds' intent, which is to shift the main focus of the story toward the bizarre love triangle between seductively charming siblings Julia (Hayley Atwell) and
Sebastian (I'm Not There's Ben Whishaw) and their lesser-born, introspective friend Charles Ryder (played by Matthew Goode; Goode strongly resembles Jeremy Irons, who originated the role in the miniseries.)

Obviously, this approach loses some of the epic sweep and deeper political and philosophical concerns of Waugh's vision. The book and original adaptation can be viewed as a Canaletto canvas, with the characters carefully and distantly through the grand landscapes of Oxford, Venice, and the titular stately homes, their emotions carefully (if barely) in check. Jarrolds, on the other hand, has filmed Brideshead as a Caravaggio, where the rich settings are a backdrop for the desperate passionate grappling and anguish of lovers trapped in murky waters.

This approach is aided immensely by powerful performances by the three
leads. Atwell is positively dazzling as Julia, a woman torn between a nature of vitality and passion tempered by a sense of duty and devout Catholic faith. As Sebastian, the outwardly vivacious but deeply fragile and insecure gadabout, Whishaw balances impish charm with heartbreaking pain and fragility. Goode, the most enigmatic of the trio, is something of an unsteady chameleon, but with a great deal of emotion and compassion.

While this trio works beautifully together, the standout performance in Brideshead is Emma Thompson as Lady Marchmain, Sebastian and Julia's mother. Almost un recognizable in grey set curls, Thompson doesn't shy away from the staunch domineering, aspects of Marchmain's character, but also brings moment of exquisite vulnerability and uncertainty that makes her character much more human.

With this new focus, some of Waugh's intent falls by the wayside. There's much mention of the film of the Marchmain-Flytes being Catholic, but little demonstration of how their faith guides their actions. Nevertheless, this new angle on Waugh's complex story is teeming over with romantic, lustful and tender, and the social formalities that labor in vain to constrain them. Gloriously set and
sumptuously costumes, it's a drama of emotion and passion not to be
missed.

Aaron Eckhart in The Dark Knight

Christopher Nolan’s
The Dark Knight
Opens Friday, July 18, 2008

Starring: Christian Bale; Heath Ledger; Aaron Eckhart; Michael Caine; Maggie Gyllenhaal; Gary Oldman; and Morgan Freeman.

Reviewed by Frank J. Avella

Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight is easily the best action film to be released so far this summer. I almost hesitate to label it an action film because it is smart, clever, dark and disturbing. Audiences will probably not leave theatres feeling good about their fellow man. They may leave pondering certain moral and ethical issues the film brings up (and, mercifully, does not necessarily answer) and that is reason enough to celebrate!

Nolan, who helmed the terrific Batman Begins, along with his writer/brother Jonathan and David S. Goyer, probe the gray and dig deep down into the grim in order to hypothesize about the point where hero becomes villain. Can anyone hold onto his own code of ethics in a fickle and rush-to-judgment society? Does power always corrupt? Why do heroes matter so much to us? And if we knew the real truth about those we are led to believe are models of propriety, would we ever be able to believe in anyone or anything?

Heavy? Sure. And thank God for that!

The plot is deliberately confusing and repeat viewings are encouraged. Suffice to say that our caped crusader has his work cut out for him this time around. The mob, led by a smarmy Eric Roberts, is getting away with murder and a new D.A.; Harvey Dent (the terrific Aaron Eckhart) is on the scene to battle crime in Gotham City. His girlfriend is Bruce Wayne’s former squeeze, Rachel Dawes (a perfectly cast Maggie Gyllenhaal, replacing Katie Holmes).

Batman is more brooding and angst-ridden than usual and Christian Bale has pain and suffering to spare. He’s at a moral crossroads and the arrival of a new and unpredictable threat tosses him into a confounding tailspin. From American Psycho onward, Bale proves he is one of the best and most fascinating actors working today.

“The which doesn’t kill you, makes you stranger.” The Joker.

The threat arrives in the form of the initially bumbling Joker (Heath Ledger). But don’t let his first few scenes fool you--this villain is vile and wicked. With his mussy, stringy hair, repulsive yet beguiling (white) face and badly painted smile to accentuate his scars, this card (pun intended) believes in chaos and anarchy. His evil cannot be predicted, reasoned or controlled because he doesn’t want anything other than to cause mayhem, destroy and prove the malignant nature of man. As Michael Caine’s wise Alfred puts it: “Some men just want to watch the world burn.” He doesn’t even want Batman dead. Quite the contrary, he stares at him and freakily states, “You complete me.”

If the Joker’s reasons are buried in childhood trauma or abuse we are never given his real story and Ledger’s performance is the better for it. As a matter of creepy fact, the Joker actually provides a few horrific childhood scenarios, but we soon realize that we can’t ever trust what he says; he’s simply having a macabre laugh at his victim’s expense, after all, he is a sadistic fuck. He’s also a masochist. It’s a mesmerizing, messy portrait, loaded with mad nuances.

There has been much posthumous Oscar speculation among critics, prognosticators and Hollywoodites regarding Ledger’s performance--and with good reason. It’s an all-immersive, vanity-free portrayal and a fitting swan song to a promising career cut tragically short. Ledger should have won his gold dude for Brokeback Mountain, so it would not be surprising if his genius turn here gets him the prize.

The look of the film is stunning and spectacularly gloomy. All tech credits are extraordinary.

The Dark Knight proves a superhero film can be more than a cacophonous, pyrotechnic, effects-driven video game. It can have non-stop action, amazing effects and still have an untidy, topsy-turvy plot and performances that strive to be more than simply good and actually achieve a kind of transcendence.

Heath Ledger in The Dark Knight

Christopher Nolan’s
The Dark Knight
Opens Friday, July 18, 2008

Written By: Jonathan Nolan; Christopher Nolan; Story by Christopher Nolan; David S. Goyer from characters in DC Comics. Batman created by Bob Kane.

Starring: Christian Bale; Heath Ledger; Aaron Eckhart; Michael Caine; Maggie Gyllenhaal; Gary Oldman; and Morgan Freeman.

Warner Bros.

Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: B-

It's difficult to criticize a movie in which a fellow who is considered "a White Knight," "the best of us," goes by the first name "Harvey"—a District Attorney who has locked up half of Gotham (filmed by Wally Pfister in Chicago). The picture is a mixed bag, one that might be summarized by part of a terrific commercial that appeared years back before trailers, in which one moviegoer is pondering whether to attend a film that's "visually arresting but ultimately pointless." Not that The Dark Knight is pointless, but on the other hand comes across as though it were a series of trailers. Christopher Nolan who directs from a script he co-write with his brother Jonathan Nolan, appears to make a few moral points: that even the best of us can turn rotten when pursuing vengeance; that a caped crusader can be disliked by much of the city he protects because he is blamed indirectly for quite a few murders; that you can't negotiate with a terrorist, because (at least in this case), the demon has no interest in money or power but only in fomenting as much chaos as he can.

The Dark Knight is graced by an astonishing performance from Heath Ledger as The Joker, one scary fella who covers up scars he received from his knife-wielding dad with makeup that gives him a face covered with white paint while leaving lips to be decked out in dark red. If an Oscar can be awarded posthumously, Mr. Ledger should be guaranteed at least a nomination for portraying what will probably be this year's most exciting portrayal of a villain. The movie comes to life whenever he is on the screen, but becomes pedestrian whenever Christian Bale, so fearsome and authentic as Patrick Bateman in American Psycho, enters the screen. Bale is a dull Bruce Wayne and a less than awesome hero.

There are two fundamentally distinct ways to judge the quality of this plot. One group of moviegoers and critics are going to find gems in its complexity, stating even that the film deserves multiple viewings (at two and one-half hours a pop) to figure out who's who and what's what. Others will take an opposite approach, holding that the story is so incoherent, one might as well throw up his hands and consider the film of value only because of some awesome visual delights. I'll have to take that latter point of view. David Lynch's Mulholland Drive, or for that matter Christopher Nolan's Memento, have trajectories which become clear by the second or third viewing. The Dark Knight, by contrast, throws together a pot pourri of criminals and crime fighters that are nearly impossible to sort out or make even comic-book sense of. Additional screenings are likely to be fruitless.

Gotham is portrayed as a city rife with police corruption, organized crime, and one weird, psychopathic killer who seems motivated to get revenge against the father who scarred him for life. He takes out his anger on an assortment of citizens. His chief nemesis is the incorruptible (at least for a while) District Attorney, Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart), but The Joker is not eager to kill Batman. He considers the caped crusader someone who "completes" him, someone to play with to prove his skills to the entire city. The Joker is an expert at demolition: in one scene, he blows up a hospital and buildings surrounding it, walking away laughing to himself. When he gets the drop on an individual, he licks his lips, slowly, calmly explaining to his victims why he has become the psycho he is. Every actor wants to play the bad guy, Heath Ledger providing a textbook example--as the D.A., Bruce Wayne, and Batman are dishwater-dull by contrast (until one of them shows his dark side, thereby helping to prove the maxim). The film can be interpreted as an indictment of American foreign policy. In one scene, a scientist sets up a system of wiretapping that will allow Batman to spy on millions of Chicago's citizens. In another, Batman mercilessly delivers a beating to a prisoner, hoping to get information about a kidnap victim's whereabouts.

There are faux Batmans, bank robbers, Hong Kong businessmen, all thrown into the mix helter-skelter along with the usual array of car crashes, truck somersaults, and a terrific-looking Batpod. There's even a romantic triangle as Bruce Wayne's former squeeze, Rachel (Maggie Gyllenhaal), has shifted her loyalties to the district attorney—an unusual switch considering that she once had the attention of a billionaire playboy. Gary Oldman shows up regularly with a restrained performance as a detective about to become the city's police commissioner, Morgan Freeman as a scientist, Michael Caine as Bruce Wayne's lifelong butler Alfred.

If you thrill to visual mayhem, try to see the picture on the IMAX screen, which delivers the goods particularly when Batman descends quickly from skyscrapers or spreads out his bat-wings to fly across buildings. By now, though, the usual visual thrills have become a common-enough staple in blockbusters. Ditto the thumping soundtracks, in this case provided by Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard. What's missing is a solid, coherent story, one that pares down the numbers of subplots and subplots to subplots.

Isabel Coixet's
Elegy
Opens Friday, August 8, 2008

Written By: Nicholas Meyer, from Philip Roth's novella "The Dying Animal"
Cast: Ben Kingsley, Penelope Cruz, Dennis Hopper, Patricia Clarkson, Deborah Harry, Peter Sarsgaard

Samuel Goldwyn Films
Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: A-8

In his four-stanza poem, Sailing to Byzantium—which includes a verse to "a dying animal," also the title of a recent novella by Philip Roth—William Butler Yeats describes both about the journey taken by the speaker's soul around the time of death and the process by which the artist transcends his own mortality. Philip Roth, whose novella forms the basis of film Elegy, is obsessed with age, with mortality, and with the fading of his own passions—all of which come across in this remarkable movie by the Spanish director, Isabel Coixet. Without passing judgment on a man who might be roundly condemned by feminists today, Coixet directs from a screenplay by Nicholas Meyer, one which closely follows the trajectory of Roth's book. Prestige films from literary sources are a rare breed today: Elegy joins such summer-released films as Julian Jarrold's Brideshead Revisited as must-sees on any sophisticated moviegoer's itinerary.

"That is no country for old men…An aged man is but a paltry thing,/ A tattered coat upon a stick, unless/ Soul clap its hands and sing…" So goes some verses from Yeats's poem, and so evolves the character David Kepesh (Ben Kingsley), a charismatic professor of literary criticism who uses his prestige at a New York university (one that looks like Columbia though the filming took place in Vancouver) to bed several women three or four decades his junior. He keeps his distance emotionally from the women—something his best friend, squash partner and Pulitzer-prize-winning poet George (Dennis Hopper) urges him to do. Kepesh is floored by the beauty of a Cuban-born student, Consuela Castillo (Penelope Cruz); he senses that she must be wooed before being won just like women in the 1950's, he correctly notes in discussing America's Puritan heritage on the air. Kepesh is fascinated by her beautiful breasts—which Ms Cruz generously exhibits for us in the audience—so much so that contrary to feminist beliefs today, Consuela lauds him for his attentions therein. "Nobody else loves my body as you do," she states with love in her eyes. While Kepesh sets up a sexual liaison with the young student, he maintains a long-term, commitment-free affair with an older woman, Carolyn (Patricia Clarkson), a sophisticated businesswoman in her late forties who believes that she is his only bed partner.

Philip Roth's obsession with age and decline, punctuated by at least one death in the story, evokes the title Elegy, a mournful poem or lament for the dead. As an older man who ponders his age almost daily, he is certain that a youthful charmer will steal his great love away. Jealousy demands that she remain in touch with him regularly. "Stop worrying about growing old," his friend George advises, knowing that his counsel will not be followed, "And think about growing up." (Lots of us men should have such problems with immaturity.)

Aside from its theme of mortality and decline, Elegy concerns itself with the impact on others of pure physical beauty. David, by way of illustration, simply cannot see beyond Consuela's body to understand that this woman wants a man who can offer her a future, and that David would be the one she would choose. David's womanizing has an effect on his son, Kenny Kepesh (Peter Sarsgaard), a doctor who cannot forgive his dad's marital abandonment and therefore remains loyal to his own wife though he has fallen in love with another. In the film's final scene, there has been an about face, one which demonstrates Consuela's spirit to David for the first time.

Jan Claude Larrieu photographs the proceedings in Vancouver, which stands in for New York, heightening director Coixet's emphasis on the pain that complements the human condition as well as its physical pleasures. The music, both in the background and as pieces played by David on the piano, are the antithesis of summer-movie soundtracks—featuring works from Bach's "Adagio from Concerto in D Minor" through Vivaldi's "Vendro Con Mio Diletto" from "Giutino" but not ignoring pop favorites like Al Lerner's "Loneliness Ends with Love." Acting is magnificent all-around with Dennis Hopper supplying much of the humor as the principal's sexual and spiritual adviser, Ben Kingsley's piercing job particularly in a concluding scene that finds him awash in tears, and Penelope Cruz's deft portrayal as a woman of spectacular beauty, charm, and ultimate vulnerability.

Courtney Hunt's
Frozen River
Opens Friday, August 1, 2008

Starring: Melissa Leo; Misty Upham; Michael O'Keefe; Mark Boone Junio;Charlie McDermott; James Reilly; Dylan Carusona; Jay Klaitz; Michael Sky;John Canoe; and Nancy Wu.

Reviewed by Bryan Close

Don’t let the fact that Frozen River won the dramatic grand prize at Sundance fool you. Director Courtney Hunt’s low-budget indie about two poor mothers – one white, one Native American – who risk their lives smuggling illegal immigrants across the Frozen St. Lawrence river is not just a complex, well-acted, authentically naturalistic slice of forgotten lives; it is also a tightly plotted, gripping thriller.

Frozen River tells the story of Ray Eddy (Melissa Leo), a poor upstate New York mother who lives in an insulation-free trailer with her fifteen and five-year-old sons. When her gambling addict husband relapses a week before Christmas and runs off with the cash for the doublewide of her dreams, leaving Ray and the kids (Charlie McDermot and James Reilly) to live on popcorn and Tang, Ray goes looking for him. Nobody’s victim, she brings along a revolver, which she immediately uses to shoot a hole in the side of the camper where she finds husband’s car. The camper is on the Mohawk reservation that straddles an unpatrolled section of the US-Canadian border, and in it is Lila Littlewolf (Missy Upham), a luckless smuggler who is trying to get her own baby son back from her late husband’s mother, who, she says, “stole him.”

From this inauspicious meeting, the partnership is born. For a while, the river holds and the money flows. But complications ensue. These involve, in no particular order: deep-seated racial tensions, the law, a finicky blowtorch, gunshots outside a strip club, looming blindness, ingrained bitterness, single motherhood, the suffocating realities of poverty, the (at best) indifference of nature, possible complicity in a variety of heinous crimes (including, Ray suspects, of terrorism) and both metaphorical and literal thin ice. Along the way, the women may even participate in an authentic Christmas miracle involving a pair of unwanted travelers and an infant that somehow doesn’t feel the least bit cheesy.

The leads are so strong that it is difficult to imagine other actresses in the roles. Leo (best known for the 90’s TV series Homicide: Life on the Street) anchors the movie with a tough, vanity-free performance as a woman with whom life has not been gentle, but who retains a core of decency. Upham’s open face conveys worlds of emotion beneath a deep mistrust not only of white people and their world, but of almost everyone around her. The bond they share as single mothers fighting for their broken families is unspoken but palpable and one of the films biggest strengths.

The other main players deliver as well: in an especially well written role, McDermot expertly navigates between the poles of teenage selfishness and maturity, pettiness and generosity. And old pros Michael O’Keefe as the local sheriff and Mark Boone Junior as a thoroughly scummy human trafficker give strong support.

Hunt’s writing is crisp and unsentimental, and her pacing is unusually taut for a low-budget indie. Cinematographer Reed Morano shoots the bleak Plattsville, NY location in all its gray oppressiveness and natural grandeur, and the score (several composers are credited) is haunting, further contributing to the thriller-like atmosphere. That it was done on the cheap in less than a month in sub-zero temperatures makes the accomplishment all the more impressive.

But don’t take my word for it. Sundance jury president Quinten Tarantino, a guy who knows a little something about provoking a reaction from an audience, said the film “put my heart in a vice and didn’t let go.”

Peter Segal's
Get Smart
Opens June 20, 2008

Written By: Tom J. Astle, Matt Ember

Starring: Steve Carell; Anne Hathaway; Dwayne Johnson; Alan Arkin; Terence Stamp; James Caan; Masi Oka; Nate Torrence; Ken Davitian; Terry Crews; David Koechner; and Dalip Singh.

Warner Bros/ Village Roadshow

Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten

Grade: B-

People under the age of twenty-five probably can't believe that on the TV series Get Smart that began in 1965, a secret agent's gadget consisting of a shoe with a wireless phone inside was considered a far-out, James-Bond style toy. Remember that as recently as then, a telephone in your car was considered an expensive luxury: few could have conceived that more Americans would own cells today than not. In adapting the Get Smart concept for a big-screen movie, director Peter Segal (The Longest Yard, Naked Gun 33-1/3) pays homage to the old episodes created by Mel Brooks and Buck Henry which starred Don Adams and Barbara Feldon while simultaneously updating the story to throw in some more gadgets. At the same time, though, Barbara Feldon in the role of Agent 99 for 131 episodes was already a liberated woman who did not defer to Adams's Maxwell Smart (138 episodes). In a sense, then, the small-screen and multiplex versions are not dissimilar.

Get Smart has a lot of action shots filmed by Dean Semler—a low-flying propeller plane threatened with breakup; a car about to collide with a train; some skydiving with and without parachutes; explosions within a bakery; car chases; people chases; gunplay; all punctuated by Trevor Rabin's pulsating music with breakneck speed encouraged by editor Richard Pearson. But comedy is scripters' Tom J. Astle and Matt Ember's primary consideration, the laughs coming out of the situations that the agents of CONTROL find themselves in, while verbal wit is virtually nonexistent. In fact there is just one quip worthy of the term in the entire one hundred ten minutes of the movie, that involving an essay on existentialism that Maxwell Smart has written on an exam that he takes for a hoped-for promotion in the agency.

Steve Carrel anchors the show as CONTROL agent Maxwell Smart, who will turn out to confirm the Peter Principle: "In a hierarchy, every employee tends to rise to his level of incompetence." An expert at analysis, he picks up chatter of enemies of the U.S., delivering valuable information to the staff of the clandestine agency. When he passes an exam that should have promoted him to agent, the bureau chief (Alan Arkin) wants to keep him doing what he has been doing, though circumstances change. He becomes a field operative, Agent 86, is teamed up with Agent 99 (Anne Hathaway), and is no longer responsible for preparing dull reports for Agent 23 (Dwayne Johnson). The job is to uncover nefarious activities by the head of KAOS, Siegfried (Terence Stamp), suspected of considering sabotage somewhere in the U.S.

The laughs are designed around essentially a series of Saturday Night Live skits involving the relationship of Agent 86 and Agent 99, with Anne Hathaway's character resenting a man who is brand new to the job and could compromise her safety. After all, she proves herself several times during the story by being able to run with high heels, kick, punch and shoot like the best of the men. Inevitable bickering between the two will give way to sentiment, with Agent 86 finding herself sufficiently attached to her partner that she will presuambly crumble if he is hurt or killed.

As in the James Bond series, gadgets are the co-stars: 86 and 99 appear competitive even in showing off what they're carrying, the paraphernalia including the shoe phone, a pocket smokescreen, a small flamethrower, a hook, a blowgun; while sports cars formerly seen in the TV series strut their stuff—the Opel GT, the Karmann Ghia, the Sunbeam Tiger. James Caan turns up as our country's chief executive, a man who is not identified but who cannot pronounce "nuclear" and who falls asleep during a concert of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony.

Not surprisingly, Steve Carrel is the man to watch, his Agent 99 being out of his depth in the field, but unlike The Pink Panther's Inspector Clouseau, sensitive enough to be taken aback by criticism. Bond wannabees have included Mike Myers's Austin Powers, Dean Dujardin's Oss 117, and in real life quite a few people in Britain who want to join M16 thinking that they will really be license to kill. There is only one James Bond: his comic imitators on the screen are pale by comparison.

Benoir Magimel and Ludivine Sagnier in A Girl Cut in Two

Claude Chabrol's
A Girl Cut in Two (La fille coupee en deux)
Opens August 15, 2008

Written By: Claude Chabrol, Cecile Maistre

Starring: Ludivine Sagnier; Benoit Magimel; Francois Berleand; Mathilda May; Caroline Sihol; and Marie Bunel.

Reviewed by Wendy R. Williams

Claude Chabrol’s new film, A Girl Cut in Two (La fille coupee en deux), is a very French film based on an American story. Girl retells the story of the “Trial of the Century” – the 1906 murder of architect Stanford White by wealthy socialite Henry K. Thaw. Thaw had married a beautiful showgirl named Evelyn Nesbitt, who had formerly been White’s mistress. Overcome by jealousy of the older man’s supposed sexual prowess, Thaw shot White at a fete in the White-designed Madison Square Garden. Thaw was charged with first degree murder, but the jury decided he was insane. This story has been retold many times, most famously in author E. L. Doctorow 1975 novel, Ragtime.

French beauty Ludivine Sagnier (of Swimming Pool fame) plays the Evelyn Nesbitt part in A Girl Cut in Two, Gabrielle Aurore Deneige, the weather girl of a Parisian news station. Gabrielle meets two men simultaneously, famous author Charles Saint-Denis (played by François Berléand) and wealthy dilettante Paul André Claude Gaudens (played by Benoît Magimel). Rather counter-intuitively, Gabrielle falls madly in love with the older happily-married Saint-Denis. She is quite nonplussed by the wealthy, attractive, younger and borderline-crazy Paul.

Gabrielle and St. Denis begin a passionate love affair, one where he introduces her to the dark side of sex, the world of decadent sex acts and clubs. There is one much talked about scene where Gabrielle crawls to St. Denis while she is adorned only with huge peacock feathers that are supposedly stuck in her rear. But decadency aside, St. Denis soon hungers for something different and rejects the now desolate Gabrielle.

Gabrielle then does the besotted Paul a big favor and marries him, much to the disapproval of his mother, the haughty Geneviève Gaudens (played by Caroline Silhol). But as in the Nesbitt/White/Thaw triangle, the husband is never able to forget the image of his now wife in the arms of his rival, and he repeatedly forces her to confess her past indiscretions, fueling his hatred of St. Denis. And this hatred leads to death, just like it did in the original story.

All the performances in the film are first rate. The film is also very beautiful, beautifully shot and beautifully cast. The film is a talker like most French films. People analyze their emotions in depth. Class issues are plumbed; Paul’s jealous rage is fueled in part by his belief that a wealthy young man like himself should never have the problem of attracting and keeping a beautiful wife in the first place. And then there is the world of the intelligentsia versus the world of the bourgeois. All in all, A Girl Cut in Two is very French – sophisticated and urbane. If you have never watched French films, Girl would be a perfect place to start. You will never understand quite why the French find us so unrefined until you have a chance to visit their jaded and sophisticated world.

Good job!

Ludivine Sagnier and Francois Berleand in A Girl Cut in Two

Claude Chabrol's
A Girl Cut in Two (La fille coupee en deux)
Opens August 15, 2008

Written By: Claude Chabrol, Cecile Maistre

Starring: Ludivine Sagnier; Benoit Magimel; Francois Berleand; Mathilda May; Caroline Sihol; and Marie Bunel.

IFC Films
Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: B

The title makes it sound as though this filim is about a magician who messes up big time with his female partner. As you can imagine, though, the name is allegorical—but only partly, as you'll note from the final scene which serves as epilogue. In Girl, one of France's most celebrated regisseurs, Claude Chabrol, directs and teams up with co-writer Cecile Maistre to turn out a heavy-handed, talky, but never dull tale of a gullible young French woman who is torn between the demands for affection of the two men in her life. It's no wonder that ménage-a-trois is a term invented by the French, though in this film, the two men in a woman's life do not occupy the latter's bed at the same time. Maybe that's the problem: when the men meet at various posh functions, the hostility can be cut with a magician's buzzsaw. Nothing good can come of this complex situation in a tale populated by an ensemble of extras, all of whom suggest that what Chabrol is up to is the creation of a comedy of manners: a culture war between old money, which is not so old since it represents a fortune inherited by a young, obnoxious man who acknowledges that he is used to getting what he wants; and new money, which comes to a best-selling writer accustomed to rave reviews.

Two of Chabrol's favorite themes are explored: his displeasure with bourgeois values; and the willingness of some to kill as proof of love.

While it may appear easy for a beautiful young woman to accept a proposal of marriage from the scion of a pharmaceutical fortune, or to accept the attentions and affections of a major celebrity, A Girl Cut in Two (La fille coupee en deux in its original title) offers some cautionary counsel. That handsome multi-millionaire may have dangerous traces of schizophrenia. The best-selling author has a wife who has already treats him well, making him highly unlikely to split and run away with the young charmer.

Benoit Magimel performs in the role of Paul Andre Claude Gaudens, a brash, seemingly confident, arrogant lad with a map of blond hair, an eye for the fair sex, and vulnerabilities that are cloaked by his devil-may-care attitude. When he spots Gabrielle-Aurore Deneige (Ludivine Sagnier), it's love at first sight. He virtually proposes on the day he meets her. Gabrielle works as a TV weather-girl on her way up, a weather-girl who looks as though she could still play Tinker-Bell, a role Ms Sagnier once tackled. Complicating the budding romance, novelist Charles Saint-Denis (Francois Berleand), who is twice Gabrielle's age, falls for her as well. The big surprise is that she reciprocates the older man's affections while stringing along the young playboy. The rivalry of the two men, neither likable, for the carnal and emotional attentions of the young maiden, leads to the melodramatic strain that takes over during the final episodes of the film.

A possible motivation for young Paul's nuttiness and feelings of guilt are explained by his snooty mother, Genevieve Gaudens (Caroline Sihol) when a flashback would have been more dramatic. French cinema, in fact, is famous (or notorious) for its emphasis on talk, to the exclusion, sometimes, of bold action. La fille coupee en deux is sometimes suffocating in its verbosity, but that's part of Chabrol's point. If you're a "commoner" with the chance to work your way into a moneyed family, be prepared to suffer endless evenings and weekends in the company of stuffed-shirts who wax poetic about the quality of the served brandy. You're marrying a clan, not must a man. The story is peopled with unlikable, pretentious characters, whose very pretences are illustrated by the worlds of television and books—which are ostensibly and proudly the essences of illusion.

Alex Gibney's
Gonzo: The Life and Work of Hunter S. Thompson
Opens Friday, July 4, 2008

Featuring: Interviews with former President Jimmy Carter; Democratic Presidential Candidate George McGovern; Conservative Commentator Pat Buchanan; Jann Wenner (the publisher of Rolling Stone); Author Tom Wolfe; singer and song writer Jimmy Buffett; and cartoonist Ralph Steadman. Narrated by Johnny Depp. Produced by: Graydon Carter; Jason Kliot and Joanna Vicente; Eva Orner; and Allison Ellwood.

Reviewed by Wendy R. Williams

Even if you were not around for Hunter Thompson’s glory days, the days when he rode the bus/planes to cover the Presidential campaigns of Senator George McGovern and President Jimmy Carter for Rolling Stone, you might have become enchanted with Thompson when you saw the film version of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (starring a whacked out Johnny Depp as Thompson). And you would have become enchanted as in “That was one funny fucked-up guy. I think I would have liked him.”

Here is a quote from the press release for Alex Gibney's (of Academy Award winning Taxi to the Dark Side fame) new documentary film Gonzo: “Gonzo is a three-dimensional portrait with a focus on Thompson's work, whose legendary status is due as much to his scintillating writing as his outrageous antics. A die-hard member of the NRA, Thompson was also a coke-snorting, whiskey-swilling, acid-eating fiend. While his pen dripped with venom for crooked politicians, he surprised nervous visitors with the courtly manners and soft-spoken delivery of a Southern gentleman. Careening out of control in his personal life, Thompson also maintained a steel-eyed conviction about righting wrongs. Today, in a time when “spin” has replaced the search for deeper meaning, Thompson remains an iconic crusader for truth, justice and a fiercely idealistic American way.”

Thompson created a creative form of interpretive journalism which he called Gonzo Journalism. He wrote spoofy coverage stating things like Senator Ed Muskie was under the influence of a psychoactive drug, Ibogaine. He could also be mega goofy, acting for home movies while wearing a Richard Nixon masks and swimming in his pool. No one was immune from his scathing comedic coverage, but it was never just name calling - Thompson was clever; his words are a delight to read. But underneath the humor is a lot of anger, anger about the state of affairs in this our United States of America. And the anger that Hunter felt resonates today; we are still surrounded by reaming buckets of hypocrisy.

Director Alex Gibney obviously had a hell-of-a-time making Gonzo. He interviewed George McGovern, Jimmy Carter AND Pat Buchanan. He also incorporated Hunter’s home movies, psychedelic clips from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (starring Johnny Depp) and interviews with both of Hunter’s wives into his film. What emerges is a definitive biography of (as described by director Alex Gibney) America’s first blogger, Dr. Hunter Thompson.

For more information about the movie, log onto: huntersthompsonmovie.com

Andrew Fleming's
Hamlet 2
Opens August 22, 2008

Written By: Pam Brady and Andrew Fleming
Starring: Steve Coogan; Catherine Keener; David Arquette; Marshall Bell; Melonie Diaz; Joseph Julian Soria; Skylar Astin; and Phoebe Strole.

Focus Features
Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: B+

In New York City, a prospective teacher must take twelve credits, more or less, in the college Education department —courses that are universally thought to be not only bores but a waste of time. Real teachers get their inspiration from the movies. In Richard LaGravenese's Freedom Writers, Erin Gruwell takes on the toughest kids in town by having them write their own stories, a technique that somehow leads all of her students to attend college. In Liz Friedlander's Take the Lead, Pierre Dulaine motivates rough high-schoolers by teaching them to dance Latin, culminating in their participating in a major dance competition that combines ballroom with street. Then again, some educators get their students to care about the subject by being just plain nuts, as did Herbert Gower, playing an escapee from a mental institution who gets to sub for a day in Arthur Hiller's Teachers.

Andrew Fleming's Hamlet 2 pays no homage to stable, sane teachers like the real-life Erin Gruwell. In the movie he co-wrote with Pam Brady, he holds the view (if one may generalize) that the wackier the teacher, the more chance of a connection with so-called street-wise students. After all, anybody can teach an honors program. How to reach the reluctant? No better actor could have been chosen for the role of drama teacher Dana Marschz than Steve Coogan, a forty-two year old Manchester-born comic whose most celebrated movie is arguably 24 Hour Party People. The party he appears to be throwing throughout the entire 92 minutes of "Hamlet 2" is not one of unmixed joy for his character, as his connubial happiness is not shared by his wife, Brie (Catherine Keener)--who regularly accuses him, with justification, of shooting blanks. He has fights with the principal of the Tucson, Arizona school (filmed in Albuquerque), he battles his love for a nip o' the craythur, he must deal with a rambunctious bunch of Latino street kids.

While more gag set-ups drop like lead than not, the picture on the whole is a great deal of fun—if you don't insist on the joke-a-minute that laugh tracks interrupt religiously on TV sitcoms.

Director Fleming introduces us briefly to the character of Dana Marschz, a guy with the unpronounceable name, with clips from two commercials, one of which is a cute take-off on a herpes medication. When he has no more luck in Hollywood than Betty Elms/Diane Selwyn in David Lynch's Mulholland Drive, he winds up teaching drama in a Tucson High School, first to two kids, Rand (Skylar Astin) and Christian Epiphany (Phoebe Strole), then to a boatload when other arts programs are cancelled. It takes him time to catch the gag of the class wise guy Octavio (Joseph Julian Soria), who, when asked to introduce himself comes out with "My name is Heywood Jablome." When principal Rocker (Marshall Bell), who resembles a drill instructor more than a school head, informs Marschz that the drama program will be shut down for good at the end of the term, Marschz must convince the school board otherwise by dazzling the anticipated audience with a play.

Hamlet 2 resembles Shakespeare like Rush Limbaugh doubles for Al Sharpton. The controversial drama finds the kids, newly charged with a love for the stage, singing "Rock Me Jesus" while Hamlet, resuscitated via a time machine, forgives his father. (I thought it was his uncle that had to be forgiven, but no matter.)

Side character steal scenes when they can, particularly a hilarious appearance by Amy Poehler as ACLU attorney Cricket Feldstein, who makes a case that closing down the show before it gets off the ground violates the First Amendment. Elisabeth Shue, by contrast, comes across stiff playing Elisabeth Shue, who, burned out by Hollywood, now works as a nurse. David Arquette says practically nothing as a boarder that the cash-starved Marshzes take in. The school play, which features songs that are a mix of Sondheim and Webber, is a keeper, but Steve Coogan anchors the production, a fellow whose very appearance can evoke audience laughter. Hamlet 2, using the ten million dollar indie production's time machine, could solicit no small number of laughs from the Bard himself.

Peter Berg's
Hancock
Opens Wednesday July 2, 2008

Starring: Will Smith; Jason Bateman; Charlize Theron; Eddie Marsan; Johnny Galecki; Thomas Lennon; and Jae Head.

Written By: Vy Vincent Ngo, Vince Gilligan

Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten

Grade: C

Moviegoers across our fair country have accepted, nay even embraced, the idea that summertime calls for light fare: books we can read at the beach, theater that leaves us feeling good, and big-studio movies that allow us to check our brains at the door. Prone as we critics are to seek out indies that help us to explain the human condition, there are exceptions that give us hope for big-studio fare. Pixar studio's Wall-E is one major offering this summer that appears to have almost unanimous critical acceptance. But for the most part, we understand that the megaplex will offer the likes of Hellboy 2, The Incredible Hulk, You Don't Mess with the Zohan and The Love Guru.

Thanks to Mike Myers's vanity project in that last citation, Hancock cannot be called the worst movie of the summer. However, even by action-adventure standards, namely those movies targeted to the 16-25 year-olds, Peter Berg's creation scripted by Vy Vincent Ngo and Vince Gilligan, is a dud. You'd think that with a budget of $150 million, money that could go quite a way toward hiring hundreds more Wall-E's to clean up our waste, you could dream up a movie that does not assault us with CGI and stunt work involving a human being's ability to take off like a speeding bullet, able to leap tall buildings with a single bound, and who, more powerful than a locomotive, cannot make a soft landing in L.A. Every time the title character, a sometimes airborne superhero played by Will Smith, sets himself back down on terra firma, he uproots enough concrete to assure employees of companies with government road-repair contracts of steady jobs even during our current recessionary times.

Aside from a clever twist that I couldn't see coming at just about midpoint, director Berg (The Kingdom) must have figured that the public would eat up a film with an original idea, and it is an intriguing one: that a superhero who has lived for centuries without aging—just as do Captain Marvel, Superman, Wonder Woman, maybe Spiderman—would be so sick and tired of his job that he would drink himself into a stupor, not bother shaving, and take naps not at a super-home but on a park bench. A fallen superhero, not bad. Premise notwithstanding, the hackneyed car crashes, train wrecks, building destructions, automatic artillery still dominate the picture while the human angle, which should have been exploited more and with greater subtlety, exists as a throwaway. The dreary explanation of Hancock's origin sounds like pure gobbledygook.

As for the human angle: We first meet Hancock (Will Smith) sleeping off a hangover on a park bench, called an a-hole by a kid as he will be called many times throughout the story. Having aroused the public to dislike him because everywhere the superhero goes to stop crimes, he creates wreckage, Hancock is about to get a makeover by a public relations executive, Ray Embrey (Jason Bateman), whose life he had saved albeit at the cost of wrecking cars and a locomotive in the process. Embrey teaches Hancock to say "Good job" to police, a start toward gaining the public's affection, and to try to do his superwork without so much collateral damage. If Hancock is to change radically though, it will not be through another man's counsel but through the chemistry he develops with Embrey's gorgeous wife, Mary (Charlize Theron). Almost needless to say, there a kid in the picture, Aaron (Jae Head), who adores Hancock and is about the only guy who doesn't call him an a-hole. On the other hand, Eddie Marsan plays Red, a villain who winds up in jail thanks to a Hancock intervention during a crime, and who is determined to locate the hero's kryptonite and do him in.

Hancock tries to appeal to everyone, mixing genres so quickly that the movie cannot bear the weight of its central theme: that nobody's perfect, that we all have vulnerabilities that should be worked on while at the same time we must accept what we cannot change. Explosions give way to sermonizing, romance steps aside for tragedy. The feelgood ending is even more absurd than any mystical notions introduced in the movie about the hero's origins, while subtlety and nuance take a summer vacation.

Guillermo del Toro's
Hellboy 2: The Golden Army
Opens Friday July 11, 2008

Cast: Ron Perlman: Selma Blair; Jeffrey Tambor; Doug Jones; Luke Goss; John Alexander; Luke Goss; John Hurt; and Anna Walton.

Written By: Guillermo del Toro, story by Mike Mignola, Guillermo del Toro
Universal Pictures

Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: B

Who's to say that Pan's Labyrinth is an art film while Hellboy II: The Golden Army is mere comic-book fantasy for the younger set? Surely not Guillermo del Toro, credited for directing both, using the kind of imagination that most of us are said to lose by the time we're fourteen years of age. Pan's Labyrinth gets its "art" label partly because of its original title, "El labyrinto del fauno," but largely because it's anchored by an actual historical event, the Spanish Civil War, whereby in the fascist Spain of 1944, the bookish young stepdaughter of a sadistic army officer escapes into an eerie but captivating fantasy world. Let's say, then that Hellboy II may be (hopefully) not set during any realistic period, though its Manhattan location brings to mind Al Pacino's character, Lt. Col. Frank Slade's comment in Scent of a Woman, calling New York "freak show central." Where else can people who look like Hellboy, aka Red (Ron Perlman), a literally flaming woman, Liz (Selma Blair), and a goggled, green, something from the depth of the ocean, Abe Sapien (Doug Jones) appear on the streets without regular human beings looking twice?

If you skipped the original Hellboy in 2004, also the work of del Toro, you won't be at much disadvantage. Just remember that a demon, raised from infancy after being conjured by and rescued from the Nazis, grows up to become a defender against the forces of darkness. Remember also that this is an adaptation of Mike Mignola's comic books, or illustrated novels if you prefer snob appeal, and judge the movie not for its story (it's no War and Peace) but for its intricate visual details. In the general mayhem that takes up the major part of the film, you won't get much character development outside of the love between the title character and Liz (who is pregnant but keeps that detail hidden), but the picture is about good versus evil—and there's not much negotiating going on between the two forces.

Consider the Mexican director's imagination as without limit, especially since he is obviously given quite a budget for letting his creative side take off. In the story, Hellboy has allied himself with Tom Manning (Jeffrey Tambor) who is with the secret organization based in Trenton, New Jersey known as the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense. The organization is not unlike our own Homeland Security department except that it deals with supernatural enemies. What causes the latest problem with the forces of darkness? A truce between human beings and an underworld group has been broken by Prince Nuada (Luke Goss), intent on raising a Golden Army of giant warriors to lay claim to the Earth. Hellboy is determined to fight the bad guys with his fists, while the prince has the jump on him, literally, with his ability to turn eight somersaults in seven seconds and flip a sword or spear around his arm with more class and pomp than the captain of the Trenton High School cheerleaders. Princess Nuada (Anna Walton) serves as the prince's sister, a traitor to the cause as she sides with the human beings. She hides the third part of the prince's crown—which of course is recovered by his highness in time to awaken the ferocious golden army. This leads to the climactic battle in Northern Ireland, of all places: Red vs. Prince, with the army agreeing to follow the command of the winner.

Special effects are paramount, including hundred of cockroach-like creatures that devour a lot more than your Sunday picnic and are not the nice guys as represented in Wall-E; a gorilla with antlers, an aquatic creature with the green head and goggles, and some faceless hordes from the titled golden army. The proceedings are filmed by Guillermo Navarro, whose camera takes in some occasional wisecracking by Hellboy (nothing worth mentioning here unless you find a drunken rendition of Barry Maniolow's "Can't Smile Without You" by Hellboy and his pal Abe). If anyone doubts that movies are the visual medium par excellence, this picture will serve to convince.

Steven Spielberg’s
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
Opens Thursday, May 22, 2008

Starring: Harrison Ford; Cate Blanchett; Karen Allen; and Shia LaBeouf.

Reviewed by Frank J. Avella

After almost two decades, Indiana Jones is back and, I am stunned to report, he’s in better shape than ever. As a matter of fact, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (a bloody mouthful) is the best Indy yet! And I do not say that lightly.

I recently revisited the trilogy on DVD. The major revelation for me was how my least favorite, Temple of Doom, has now become my favorite; it’s certainly the strangest, but also the most original. Raiders of the Lost Ark, the most revered, seemed like a prologue (a damned good one).

After so many years and so many nixed scripts, David Koepp (with story credit going to series conceivers: George Lucas and Jeff Nathanson) manages a smart, clever and exciting screenplay filled with the expected as well as a good dose of the unexpected. In particular, the explanation of the origins of the crystal skulls is pretty creative and thought-provoking stuff.

It’s 1957, twenty years after Last Crusade, and the Cold War is at freezing temperature, the atomic age has arrived and UFO’s are the latest craze. Elvis Presley’s “Hound Dog” plays over the opening credits to perfectly ground us in a particular place and time.

Professor Indiana Jones (Harrison Ford, not looking his age at all) has found himself the subject of governmental suspicion and is forced to take a leave from his University post. Here the filmmakers smartly capture the paranoia of the time where everyone’s patriotism can be called into doubt regardless of your past heroism and proven loyalty (hmmm…resonates pretty sharply today…)

Enter, Mutt (Shia LaBeouf), a young, hair-obsessed rebel riding a motorcycle who could be a hybrid (mutt, get it!) of James Dean, Montgomery Clift, Marlon Brando and Sal Mineo. Mutt desperately needs Indy’s help.

Our generation-gapped duo soon find themselves being chased by Soviet spies, led by the cunning, calculating and captivating Irina Spalko (Cate Blanchett) who is described as “Stalin’s fair-haired girl,” despite her brunette cereal-bowl do. Irina and her gang of Reds are on a mission to realize the new annihilation frontier: psychic warfare.

Before you can say: Roswell, Indy is on the run and lands right in the midst of an atomic testing site. The insane way he survives a nuclear blast is one of the film’s best sequences and the screen tableau of Ford with mushroom cloud is unforgettable.

Soon, it’s off to Peru where Boy-hybrid and our snake-fearing hero become enmeshed in a search for yet another rare and life-changing archaeological find: the Crystal Skull of Akator, a legendary relic that has supernatural powers.

Monkeys, giant ants, Karen Allen and, yes, a large snake get in their way and many terrific CGI effects later, the gang find the “Kingdom”…the city of Gold, which houses the 13 Crystal Skulls leading to quite the climax.

Steven Spielberg has assembled a kick-ass ensemble peppered with a bevy of tremendously talented Brits (redundant?) including: John Hurt; Ray Winstone and Jim Broadbent. Each bring their own unique gifts to their roles.

Chameleon Cate Blanchett, speaking with a strong ‘where-are-moose-and-squirrel Russian accent, is deliciously evil as Irina Spalko, Soviet baddie. Irina is cunning and determined and Blanchett plays her to the hilt, having a villainous field day. And as with all Blanchett interpretations, there is more than just villainy afoot. Her final moments are particularly extraordinary.

It’s a delight to see spunky Karen Allen back as Indy’s great love, Marion Ravenwood. Allen looks fantastic and brings out the sparring-best in Ford. She was sadly missing from Doom and Last Crusade. Kudos to the person who had the good sense to bring her back.

And who knew that Shia LaBeouf was the stuff of matinee idols? I can totally see a Young Indy series taking off based on the charm and dash he displays as Mutt. Whether he’s all leathered-out a la’ Brando in The Wild One or sword fighting with Blanchett while on separate Jeeps (an astounding scene), LaBeouf proves he’s got what it takes to give the Leos in the business a run for their millions.

Now, about Mr. Ford. I must admit: I’m not a fan. Truth to be told, except for Han Solo and a brilliant performance in Peter Weir’s highly underrated, little seen gem, The Mosquito Coast, I’ve never been impressed with his talents. He has played it too safe with his choices as well as his portrayals. So it is with shock and bewilderment that I say his performance in Crystal Skull is not just one of his best, it’s refreshingly self-mocking and, at times, even poignant. The cockiness is still there but has melded into a more pensive and reflective arrogance. If action-adventure performances received Oscar nominations, Ford would be a shoo-in. Come to think of it, The Fugitive, an overrated, overblown Ford starrer, did receive a Best Picture nomination back in 1993, but Ford’s performance (rightly) did not. Perhaps it’s time to justly reward Ford with recognition for going above and beyond what anyone expected and proving he has what it takes.

Tech credits are sensational from the great Janusz Kaminski’s breathtaking camerawork to Mary Zophres’ period-perfect costumes. The rousing John Williams’ score is as defining as it is contagious. And the visuals are mind-blowing. I could have lived without some of the cute creatures created only for merchandising purposes…so unnecessary from Lucas and Spielberg who can collectively buy the world with their monies!

Spielberg is a fascinating study. I happen to think that Munich is his masterpiece. I find his later work more interesting than his earlier films. Genuine love for the medium, a commanding technique, along with a solid handle on characterization permeates most of the second half of his filmography. So even in an action-adventury, thrill-ride like Indiana Jones, we find more attention given to what the characters have to say to one another via dialogue or simple facial expressions. Spielberg is no longer afraid to slow things down a bit to tell a better, more nuanced story.

A small handful of Skull naysayers have been speculating that Spielberg might have been bored directing this follow-up; insinuating passion is not evident in the end result. I would argue the contrary for he is not only reverential to the history of his characters but highly aware of the need to take the saga to a more urgent and timely level. He succeeds masterfully.

Alex Holdridge's
In Search of a Midnight Kiss
IFC First Take
Opens August 1, 2008

Written By: Alex Holdridge
Starring : Scoot McNairy; Sara Simmonds; Brian Matthew McGuire; Katy Luong; Twink Caplan; and Robert Murphy.

Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: B

A recent study by sociologists (who are probably not in their seventies) indicates that people in their eighth decade of life are generally happier than folks who are middle-aged. This might be explained by the possibility that happy people live longer, but who knows? In any case, movies that are popular to the principal audience at Sundance festivals shed a good deal of light about those in the twenties. Given the impact of hormones that make people crazy in adolescence and continue to a large extent in the third decade of people's lives, a twenty-something is likely to be either miserable or deliriously happy, methinks. The movie In Search of a Midnight Kiss, written and directed by Alex Holdrdige, depicts one young couple who appear happy as larks while another twosome are miserable. This concept, which reminds some of a Woody Allen romance such as in Manhattan, is also reminiscent of Richard Linklater's Before Sunset, in which two characters meeting up nine years later as the man passes through Paris on a book tour, spend the day together, talking about their feelings toward each other when they first met.

Filmed in black-and-white Midnight Kiss is cited in the production notes as a love letter to Los Angeles. The parts we see in the downtown area are rarely shown on the screen; for example, there's one building of dramatic architecture that looks like the Sydney Opera House. What's more we see people who actually go from one place to another in the subway, just like us here in New York. The film has several humorous touches and, like many romantic comedies, has a bittersweet ending.

Those of us who believe that young people today do not "date" but simply "hang out" or "hook up" will be surprised, as was I, to note that not only is dating still in fashion, but so are blind dates, just like in the 1950's. The difference is that such meetings are moderated by technology as people put their life stories on Craigslist and other computer venues. Through the magic of the 'net, a little blindness is removed. Vivian (Sara Simmonds), a 27-year-old high-strung woman plays the game even more straight. Before she goes through with a date, she interviews the guys she meets through Craigslist, giving each five minutes in a coffee shop to see whether they click. (This is not so unusual: some matchmaking groups actually set up a similar system of musical chairs whereby a guy gets to talk for five minutes to a gal, then moves on to the next victim.) The man that Vivian decides to spend a few hours with—on New Year's Eve to boot, where you wouldn't expect a good-looking blonde to seek company at the last minute—is Wilson (Scoot McNairy), who despite, or actually because of, his relationship with Jacob (Brian Matthew McGuire), is desperately lonely. He has the hots for Jacob's two-year steady, Min (Katy Luong), in one scene spanking the money to Min's picture on the computer. Most of the film deals with the hours Scoot and Vivian spend together, a challenging time as any blind date would be but one made even more hyper by the chain-smoking, pill-popping woman who talks a touch game but has a secret vulnerability.

Happy or not, you take away the idea that people pushing thirty are pretty immature, awkwardly playing games to avoid closeness, though Wilson, who calls himself a misanthrope, seems to have his head on his shoulders. The language that these young 'uns use regularly, the sorts of words that in the fifties prompted men to say, "Pardon my French," are voiced even more regularly by the woman, at least in this case, making this a story that features romance, comedy, and tenderness, all partly ruined by an over-the-top episode wherein Vivian's ex-boyfriend, Jack (Robert Murphy, who doubles as cinematographer) demands that Vivian return to him lest he burn some items in her flat.

While some moviegoers are likely to find LA prettier in black-and-white than in full color, I'd have to say that b&w is an affected choice that does nothing for the pic. Scoot McNairy stands out here as a geeky, awkward guy who seems clueless about women.

Jiri Menzel's
I Served the King of England
(Obsluhoval jsem anglického krále)
Opens August 29, 2008

Written By: Jiri Menzel from the novel by Bohumil Hrabal
Starring: Ivan Barnev; Oldrich Kaiser; Julia Jentsch; Martin Huba; Marian Labuda; Milan Lasica; Josef Abrham; Jiri Labus; Jaromir Dulava; Zuzana Fialova; and Pavel Novy.

Sony Pictures Classics
Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: A-

Two-score years of 20th Century Czechoslovak history are exploited for full entertainment value in an exhilarating film that the Czech Republic has tapped as its entry for the 2008 Academy Awards. Anchored by a stunning performance by Ivan Barnev as Jan Dite, a short, blond, naïve fellow with dreams of rising from hotel waiter to millionaire, I Served the King, a title taken from a quote by the maitre d' of Prague's most exclusive hotel, is an enthralling story. It is suffused with cinematographer Jaromir Sofr's arresting variety of visual styles, including the techniques of silent film and surrealism, and Ales Brezina's musical soundtrack serves as background to a story that with some imagination could serve as an elaborate ballet.

Writer-director Jiri Menzel, whose techniques were influenced by the films of Charlie Chaplin, Rene Clair, and Jean Renoir, is fortunate in adapting Bohumil Hrabal's novel to the screen, as Hrabal cleverly uses the life of a fictional Czech everyman to cast a cynical, humorous, satiric look at his country from the years 1920 through about 1960—a nation alternately ruled by the Nazis and Communists, powers that had a profound effect on Mr. Dite for short-term pleasures, but ultimately a life brought short by political events.

The film, known in its subtitled Czech as Obsluhoval jsem anglickeho krale, has been influenced by the 1960's New Wave, a school known for dark and absurd humor which for the Czechs like directors Milos Forman, Vera Chytilova, Ivan Passer and others dealt with the love-confusion of young people and the absence of morality in Czechoslovak society. The movement ended after the 1968 Soviet clampdown in the so-called Prague spring liberalization, leading many directors to flee the country while others, like Jiri Menzel, faced censorship of their works.

Menzel, whose 1967 Oscar-winning Closely Watched Trains (Ostre sledovane vlaky) adapted Bohumil Hrabal's story of a young man who follows his father's footsteps and joins the railway company, where he learns the job and has his first affair, here explores themes of money, sex, power and greed. The now-aging Jan Dite (Oldrich Kaiser), having been just freed from almost fifteen years in a Prague prison per Communist persecution of "millionaire-exploiters," has been sent to the Sudetenland where, following World War 2, the Germans have been expelled. The buildings are now is in ruins, though Dite fixes up a cabin while he looks back on his life, particularly his memories of women, wealthy hotel guests, and a short-lived financial success. Jan Dite's name is not an arbitrary one, but one that in English means "John Child"—in other words an immature fellow and to a large extent an Everyman. During the 1920s' Dite (now played by the Bulgarian-born Ivan Barnev) had only one ambition—to sell frankfurters to passengers on the trains. We watch in silent-film mode as he winds up keeping a passenger's large bill, as the train pulls out to quickly for Dite to make change.

Fate takes Dite away from the train station, into posh Prague hotels where he serves as waiter par excellence, literally dancing around the tables as he dishes out steins of Pilsner and an array of restaurant courses. He admires the maitre d', to whose position he aspires, though he would not likely attain the class of a man who can speak Korean, German, French, Czech and who knows what other languages to the international guests. He has affairs with some beautiful hookers whose clients are mostly the capitalist guests, though he falls for a Nazi ideologue, Liza (Julia Jentsch), who insists on staring at a large portrait of Hitler as she and Dite make love. When the Nazis exit and the Communists take their place, Dite is no longer the naïve opportunist—having been ground down, but still smiling, by the vicissitudes of life.

While the story itself is a keeper and Ivan Barnev a natural for playing a Candide-like character, the miracle of the film lies largely in writer-director Jiri Menzel's dare-one-say choreography, a man whose thematic vision is nicely realized by Jaromir Sofr's lensing. The most darkly humorous incidents revolve around the Nazi plan to gather Germany's most beautiful women in a eugenics program, women who await sperm-test results of "Aryan" men before they pair off and enter separate rooms of the hotel for breeding. The film is replete with voice-overs, too many particularly in the opening segment, but embracing the strongest point that "A person becomes human almost against his own will." Too bad it takes so many decades for a child to become a man, or as the Pennsylvania Dutch like to say, "We get old too soon and too late schmart."

Eric Brevig's
Journey To The Center of the Earth
Opens Friday July 11, 2008

Starring: Brendan Fraser; Josh Hutcherson; Anita Briem; Seth Meyers; Giancarlo Caltabiano; and Garth Gilker.

Written By: Michael Weiss; Jennifer Flackett; and Mark Levin.

Warner Bros releasing of a New Line Cinema/ Walden Media production

Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: B

This 3-D feature looks on one level to be a long product placement from the Icelandic Government Department of Tourism. Or not. It all depends on what kind of travel you like. Do you favor looking at the churches and museums of Europe while walking on the historic cobblestone streets? Or are you more for vivid physical action—skydiving, white-water rafting, surfing (not the internet)? If the latter, you might want to visit a place closer to home than the Continent which has traditionally been only a stop-off point for Icelandair on the way to Luxembourg. Iceland has some great paths for hiking and camping: if you go to the right spot you can fall literally miles down to the center of the earth. So say Mr. Verne and director Brevig. But don't worry, you land in deep water which is fine if you hit feet first like the three principals in Eric Brevig's contemporary adaptation of the French sci-fi writer Jules Verne's Journey to the Center of the Earth.

With a script by Michael Weiss, Jennifer Flackett and Mark Levin, Brevig takes a reasonable amount of time developing the three characters, a trio who know one another either not at all or only remotely but who bond when facing life-threatening adventures. While Verne may not necessarily have targeted the junior-high crowd for the products of his fertile imagination, Brevig's cinema version would probably be less than successful with a youthful crowd in anything but a 3-D format. The adventure itself is by the numbers, the animals like one dinosaur and an assortment of man-eating fish would be less than frightening in 2-D, while the one-dimensional characters would not likely capture the rapt attention of the little ones in the audience.

But we are talking 3-D and Journey does a creditable job pushing bouncing yo-yo's, shark-like creature with perfect white and sharp teeth, scores of gems, a friendly, phosphorescent bird and the like almost directly into our faces. Brendan Fraser (who was in the audience at today's New York screening to introduce the movie) anchors the story as Trevor Anderson, a geology professor teased by a colleague for being too dull to recruit a decent-size class. His brother, Max, was lost a decade earlier while researching volcanic tubes and Trevor's own job is in jeopardy for lack of funding. All's well that ends well, though, provided that he risks his life in a baptism of fire, an adventure that takes wing when Trevor is visited by Max's 13-year-old son, Sean Anderson (played by Josh Hutcherson, a 15-year-old known as Robin Williams' son in RV and for a starring role in Firehouse Dog). Though he is charged by Sean's mom to babysit for 10 days, without getting permission from his sister-in-law, Trevor embarks with Sean on a trip that traces Max's, using Verne's novel as a guide.

In Iceland (filmed largely in Montreal studios by Chuck Shuman), uncle and nephew join with an old scientist's beautiful daughter, Hannah (Anita Briem), who acts as mountain guide, the three taking to a mountain volcano, paying the hottie 5,000 kroner a day ($64.96). This is money that may never have to be paid given the many ways all three could have perished like Max. Here is one movie in which the quote "a roller coaster ride" would be literal: the most exciting segment finds the trio riding helter-skelter a mining rail line with the speed that Amtrak wishes its so-called premium Acela service could reach. They find spectacular stones in the cavern, are lusted after by hungry, carnivorous plants, they bat giant, flying man-eating fish into right field and left with bats, and run like crazy to escape a huge dinosaur that burrows right through the cave wall that does not quite protect them.

In the end, the materialistic teen discovers that the "boring" geology professor is his ideal father-substitute, the icy blonde thaws, throwing a few modest kisses to Trevor (extreme danger is nature's Viagra), and Trevor funds his department with gems found downunder. Unfortunately, in the absence of a camera, no-one will believe the professor, but we in the audience now realize that Jules Verne was writing not sci-fi but actual fact. This movie tells us so. The production values are stunning, the fast-moving plot is pedestrian, and the kids in the audience will enjoy a nightmare hours later.

Catherine Breillat's
The Last Mistress (Une vieille maitresse)
Opens June 27, 2008

Cast: Asia Argento; Michael Lonsdale; Yolande Moreau; Fu-ad Ait Aatou; and Claude Sarraute.

Written By: Catherine Breillat, novel by Jules Barbey D'Aurevilly
IFC Films

Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: B+

Catherine Breillat is known for her audaciously sexual films, the closest to pornographic being Romance—about a female teacher sleeping in the same bed as her boyfriend but who, lacking intimacy, begins an affair with the school's headmaster. When the public became aware that she was making a costume drama, The Last Mistress (formerly An Old Mistress), some wags probably could not resist the urge to say "What kind of costume—a birthday suit?" Considered by the writer-director to be her favorite film to date and also perhaps her most accessible to the movie-going public, The Last Mistress is a lushly photographed drama written at about the same time as Pierre Chandelos de Laclos's Les liaisons Dangereuses and based on the scandalous 19th century novel by Jules Barbey D'Aurevilly about a handsome libertine in the Paris of 1835 who cannot forsake his ten-year-old affair despite resolving to do so before he took marriage vows with another. Featuring an exciting debut role by Fu'ad Ait Aatou in the role of a young, strikingly handsome albeit feminine lover, the film is clearly helmed by a the hand of a female regisseur. The story takes place in Paris and the countryside, the latter filmed by Yorgos Arvanitis on the island of Brehas off the northern coast of Bretagne. This can be called a tale with an 18th-century outlook on a 19th' century palette in that France was more sexually broadminded during the age of aristocracy than when it fell under middle class dominance during the reign of citizen-king Louis Phillippe.

The story, replete with heavy doses of passion and its inevitable accompaniment, anguish, centers on a society with plenty of time for gossip and dalliance. It is framed by the chattering Vicomte de Prony (Michael Lonsdale), enjoying a gourmet dinner with the Countess dArtelles (Yolande Moreau), announcing to her that he is going to enjoy breaking the news to Vellini (Asia Argento) that her long-term lover, Ryno de Marigny (Fu'ad Ait Aatou), is soon to marry the beautiful, rich, Hermangarde (Roxane Mesquida). The angelic Hermangarde is chaperoned by her grandmother, Marquise de Flers (Claude Sarraute). Pretending "no worries," Villeni, the Spanish-born title figure who dressed appropriately like the devil at a costume party, is determined to maintain intimate ties with her long-term lover, one whom gossipers wonder about--as he has been together with the same woman for a whole decade even though unencumbered by marriage. The inquisitive, broad-minded grandmother, a product emotionally of the more liberated 18th century, prods her grandson-to-be to tell her the tale of the ten-year liaison. A sizable flashback follows which hones in on Ryno's meeting with the Spanish woman, married to a much older gentleman, who initially despises him but becomes enamored of his assertiveness to become her lover. The young man is smitten by the passion of this matador's daughter, her manly voice and her individualistic dress which would be more at home in Seville than in Paris.

What appears to emerge thematically is the close tie between passion and violence: in one scene that should bring gasps to some in the audience, a playful Vellini removes a large pin from her hair and quickly runs the blade across her lover's face. He is pleased by the gesture. While the grandmother, now reclining, appears to be taking the story in with pleasure, she is somehow convinced that notwithstanding the Don Juanism of her granddaughter's future husband, he can be trusted to remain solely with her. But can he do so when Vellini, like Glenn Close's Alex Forrest in Adrian Lyne's Fatal Attraction, refuses to leave him alone and when Marigny is hardly disposed to dumping her? Given the stellar performances of Italian-born Asia Argento and Fu'ad Ait Aattou's, whose chemistry burns in several nude scenes of simulated sex, The Last Mistress would appear headed for solid arthouse box office.

As for universal relevance despite its location squarely in the first half of the 19th century in a country that still used aristocratic titles like comte and countess, don't we all know of the girl who is left behind at the sound of wedding bells but who somehow finds herself a central figure in the mind and body of the newly married man? And are we not today unable to hide from the barrage of gossip and celebrity magazines that deal with who broke up with whom and who emerged triumphant in the game of love? The Last Mistress is a period piece, then, that transcends its time, an entertaining fable about our favorite theme in literature, the theater and the cinema: l'amour.

Meryl Streep, Christine Baranski and Julie Walters
in Mamma Mia!

Phillyida Lloyd’s
Mamma Mia!
Opens Friday, July 18, 2008

Starring: Meryl Streep; Pierce Brosnan; Colin Firth; Stellan Skarsgard; Julie Walters; Dominic Cooper; Amanda Seyfried; and Christine Baranski.

Reviewed by Frank J. Avella

I had the dubious distinction of attending one of the very first performances of Mamma Mia! on Broadway in October of 2001. I’ve always enjoyed the music of ABBA and Chess (written by Benny Andersson and Bjorn Ulvaeus, the men of ABBA) is one of my favorite musicals, however I did not like the show! I actually wanted to leave after intermission; something I never do! The book was facile and weak making the show seem like nothing but fluff with swell songs. Of course, regardless of my opinion, Mamma Mia! became a worldwide phenomenon. Since it’s unveiling in London in 1999, the show that boasts audiences “dancing in the aisles” (they really do!) has opened in over one-hundred-and-seventy major cities and is proven box office gold nearly everywhere it is staged!

I still stand by my intense dislike of the show. So when Meryl Streep signed to do the film, I thought…is she on crack? Then I saw the trailer and was convinced she was on crack. Anyone who reads my work knows how much I adore La Streep, but even she can make a mistake (anyone ever see She-Devil? Okay, she was good, but c’mon!)

I am not surprised and very pleased to report that Meryl continues to prove she can do no wrong as Mamma Mia! is an absolutely delightful motion picture; a throwback to the old beach movies with a touch of cheesy 80’s technodazzle and a dash of the 60’s Brit rocker flix.

Now, it isn’t Singin’ in the Rain, Cabaret or All That Jazz (my favorite musical), but it ain’t Can’t Stop the Music, The Producers or the horrific Phantom of the Opera either.

The plot is carbon copied from a terrific 60’s film starring Gina Lollobrigida titled Buona Sera, Mrs. Campbell. Meryl plays former gal-group lead singer, Donna, who gave everything up twenty years ago to raise her daughter away from her own disapproving mother, on a remote Greek island. Now, twenty, Sophie (Amanda Seyfried) rummages through her mom’s diary to try and discover who her real father is and finds three candidates (Pierce Brosnan, Colin Firth, Stellan Skarsgard). She decides to invite all three to her wedding to the hot and hunky Sky (Dominic Cooper). Along for the ride are Donna’s two former back-up singers/best friends (the fabulous Julie Walters and Christine Baranski).

Streep gets to tap into her zany/silly self but there is always more to her comedy than surface hijinks. And she allows herself to glam-down so Donna is a believable working mother who will stop at nothing to protect her daughter. The shot of her face watching Sophie walk away after “Slipping Through My Fingers” is a remarkable testament to her acting. In one brief moment the entire mother/daughter relationship is revealed. She must let go, no matter how painful it is.

Seyfried, so good on HBO’s Big Love, and Cooper, so good in The History Boys on stage and screen, provide delicious eye-candy but also happen to be wonderful actors. Baranski and, especially Walters, steal every scene they are in. It’s a delight to see older women in starring roles! About fucking time, Hollywood!

A few major musical highlights include: Baranski’s dynamic rendition of “Does Your Mother Know” directed towards a sex-crazed guy half her age; Walters’ hilarious seduction of Skarsgard with “Take a Chance on Me;” Streep and company belting the title tune and the insanely staged “Dancing Queen” which becomes a feminist anthem parade. At the numbers end the all-media audience burst into applause. How rare is that?

But the best moment is Streep’s sensational tour de force vocal of “The Winner Takes It All” where the constantly gyrating camera stops for five minutes and allows magnificent Meryl to reach deep down into her guts and unearth all the pain she’s been feeling since Brosnan left her. It’s a towering moment and could bring her a fifteenth Oscar nomination (although word is the film version of Doubt will do that). She will certainly get Golden Globe love!

Mamma Mia! is a cheeky kaleidoscope of loony merriment boasting gorgeous locales, dizzying camerawork and a curious gay sensibility--even though most of it’s creative team are women. Director Phillyida Lloyd doesn’t break any new ground, nor does the flimsy script—although it’s far superior to the stage book. And some of the musical numbers should have been cut and replaced with real dialogue scenes--specifically “When All is Said and Done” which Brosnan cannot quite do justice to.

Yet, when all is said and done, Mamma Mia! will provide audiences with a welcome non-action treat this summer. Chances are they might decide to dance in the aisles. I know if I knew how to dance, I would have led the crowd!

For more information about the film, log onto the website.

Meryl Streep and Amanda Seyfried in Mamma Mia!

Phillyida Lloyd’s
Mamma Mia!
Opens Friday, July 18, 2008

Written By: Catherine Johnson; Songs by Benny Andersson and Bjorn Ulvaeus.

Starring: Meryl Streep; Pierce Brosnan; Colin Firth; Stellan Skarsgard; Julie Walters; Dominic Cooper; Amanda Seyfried; and Christine Baranski.

Universal Pictures

Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: B+

People of "a certain age," which is to say the mature adults who are expected to be this movie's prime audience, would do well to go into the theater not expecting the brilliant tunes and thematic depth of Rodgers and Hammerstein (South Pacific as a case in point) or the remarkable wit and biting satirical thrusts of Lerner and Loewe (My Fair Lady, for example), or complex, atonal gems buy Stephen Sondheim (Sunday in the Park With George). There are only two or three songs that will remain with most of us the morning after. Nonetheless the stage show has had twenty productions, nine currently running, with an estimated 17,000 people seeing Mamma Mia! every night in various parts of the world.
What accounts for the popularity? For one (not necessarily a compliment), there's its simplicity. The dialogue borders on the banal, the music lacks variety. For these reasons some critics have denigrated the work as "fit for tourists," but then again, there's nothing wrong with seeing the world through the eyes of a tourist, as one young man in the show explains to his bride-to-be.

Thanks to the magic of cinema, the stage production has been greatly expanded, the first thing noticeable being Haris Zambarloukos's lensing on a remote Greek island, which looks out on pure blue water, a sun-streaked sky, both giving birth to inhabitants with lobster-red skin. If this is not an unintentional product placement for the Greek National Tourist Office, what is? Some have called Mamma Mia! a chick flick since none of director Phyllida Lloyd's leading men come close to carrying the story when compared to the principal cast of women.

Each time a well-known actor like Pierce Brosnan, Colin Firth or Stellan Skarsgard is given a few introductory notes from an invisible orchestra, the audience might sit on the edge of their seats wondering whether these remarkable performers can even carry a tune. The best one can say about the fellas is that they are good sports for being willing to expose their vocal chords for critical judgment. One of them, in fact, exposes a bit more while making breakfast. The real surprise is Meryl Streep, the star of the show, who can sing—although not quite up to the level that would prompt a job offer from Andrew Lloyd Webber.

No matter: this is a summer treat, an uncomplicated feel-good song-fest that has the actors obviously enjoying themselves immensely, even while figuring that some of us will think their vocalizing is campy rather than serious.

The women seem to be on speed while the guys are the usual, relatively calm selves that men tend to be. The movie is all about exuberance, female exuberance in particular, the uncomplicated story an excuse to squeeze in twenty songs—of which the best known are "Mamma Mia!," "Dancing Queen," and "Super Trouper."

The concept is this (and one must forget there is such a thing as DNA, even though the action takes place in 1999): Sophie (Amanda Seyfried), a twenty-year-old who has known no life except that on a tight little Greek isle, discovers in her mother's diary that twenty-one years ago her mom slept with three males, one of whom must be Sophie's dad. Determined to find out who, she secretly invites all three, using her mother's name—Sam (Pierce Brosnan), Harry (Colin Firth) and Bill (Stellan Skarsgard) to her upcoming wedding to Sky (Dominic Cooper). She does not tell her mother about this as Donna (Meryl Streep), who owns a falling-apart hotel, has no intention of seeing them again. Surprisingly they all show up, none hiding a potential paternity, each competing to "give away" the bride the following day. Adding to the frenzied preparations, Donna's best friends, the brash Rosie (Julie Walters) and the wealthy divorcee Tanya (Christine Baranski), cavort about, making no secret that they are hunting guys of their own, whether for a couple of days or for a lifetime.

The action is fast-moving, the women seeming to believe that this is their last weekend on the Earth and they're determined to make the most of it, or as the inebriated Agnes Gooch would say in Mame, "Live, Live Live!" Meryl Streep again demonstrates that she is perhaps America's greatest living actress, a multi-talented woman who can play a tragic title figure in Sophie's Choice, a metallurgy worker at risk of being murdered by her corporate bosses in Silkwood, and now a singing, dancing, emoting ball of fire in Mamma Mia! Have fun!

Tadanobu Asano and Khulan Chuluun in Mongol
Photo Credit Alexander Zabrin

Sergei Bodrov's
Mongol
Opens Friday, June 6, 2008
Landmark's Sunshine Cinema
143 East Houston Street, New York
Lincoln Plaza Cinemas
Broadway Between 62nd and 63rd
Mongolian With English Subtitles

Starring: Tadanobu Asano; Khulan Chuluunl; and Honglei Sun.

Reviewed by Wendy R. Williams

When the Iron Curtain came down, a massive change in perception accompanied the change in decor. Everything that was old was new again: western culture, democracy, the Russian monarchy and Genghis Khan!!!

Genghis Khan! Yes Genghis Khan!

Russian filmmaker Sergei Bodrov does not like stereotypes and the story of Genghis Kahn appealed to him. Both Russian and European history books tell the story of Kahn with the same venom used to talk about the rise and fall of Adolph Hitler. In fact, it was against the law to even speak the name of Genghis Khan in the Soviet satellite state of Mongolia. But as Budrov explained, history is written by the victors and the Mongols were eventually conquered and sent back to Mongolia. And the Mongolians were not historians.

Bodrov's film Mongol tells the story of the early years of Kahn's life based on a poem that survived from the 12th Century (Bodrov is seriously considering filming a trilogy similar to Lord of the Rings). Mongol follows Kahn from the age of ten when the young Temudgin (the future Genghis Khan played by Tadanobu Asano) first meets the love his life, Borte (played by Khulan Chuluun).

Soon afterwards, Termudgin loses his father and becomes a fugitive, running and hiding from Targutai (Amadu Mamadakov), the warrior who takes over his father's tribe. Mongolia was a cruel and beautiful land and young Termudgin is forced to live a life where truly, "Only the strong survive." And survive he does, fighting Targutai and then fighting the tribe of his "blood brother," Jamukha (Honglei Sun). And with each fight, he becomes stronger and attracts more and more followers until he finally unites the Mongolian nation. And the rest of history, even if it is history only told by the historians of the eventually victorious Russians and the Europeans. And eventually took centuries because the Genghis Khan's descendents rose up to conquer all of Russia and Eastern Europe.

Mongol is an epic film. The scenes set in the Mongolian plains are simply stunning. The costumes are luxurious (Karin Lohr, SFK)and the interiors of the tents are richly appointed (Dashi Namdakov). The fight scenes are simply spectacular (credit to stun choregraphers Zhaidarbek Kunguzhinov and Jung Doo Hong). The film is also blessed with a great soundtrack with contributions by Finnish composer Tuomas Kantelinen and by Altan Urag, an eight-person Mongolian folk-rock band.

But the real beauty of the film is the love story between two strong characters, Termudgin and the love of his life, Borte. For Termudgin may have been a brutal warlord, but when he fell in love with Borte at the age of ten, he fell in love for life.

Mongol also benefits from a talented and charismatic cast. Tadanobu Asano is quietly noble as the young Genghis Kahn. Khulan Chuluun plays Borte as a worthy partner and advisor to Khan. And Japanese actor Honglei Sun gives a powerful performance as Termudgin's friend/enemy, Jamukha.

Mongol was nominated for the Best Foreign Film Oscar in 2008. It (not Borat) was the entry from Kazakhstan.

David Gordon Green's
Pineapple Express
Opens August 6, 2008

Written By: Seth Rogen; Evan Goldberg; Story by Judd Apatow, Seth Rogen, and Evan Goldberg.

Starring: James Franco; Seth Rogen; Craig Robinson; James Remar; Gary Cole; Rosie Perez; Danny McBride; Kevin Corrigan; Craig Robinson; Amber Heard; Ed Begley Jr.; Nora Dunn; and Bobby Lee.

Columbia Pictures
Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: C

The general movie-going public generally knows about celebrity actors like Brad Pitt and famous directors like Steven Spielberg, but are rarely acquainted with scriptwriters and producers. Judd Apatow is an exception. As with Jerry Bruckheimer, who is better-known than the directors he uses, movie buffs generally identify pictures produced by Apatow as being Apatow pictures, putting directors like David Gordon Green in a separate, less holy category. Apatow may not have been the first to vulgarize movies (I say that in a positive way) but nowadays he is extolled for producing such hilarious works as Superbad, Knocked Up, Walk Hard, The 40 Year-Old Virgin and Anchorman. While Anchorman and Talladega Nights were comparatively mediocre thanks in part to the unfunny performances of Steve Carrell and Will Ferrell respectively, Superbad and Knocked Up rate as instant classics.

With Pineapple Express, though, the Apatow fraternity, trying to get a little help from his friends, has generated a comparative puff piece . The movie's principal feature is its Woodstock ambience. Enough weed is smoked by the two stoners to make those of us old enough to know that the sixties are back right now in the midst of all the panic and fear of economic recession and mortgage foreclosures. James Franco is appealing enough in the role of drug-dealer Saul Silver, a laid-back guy whose principal concern is that he has many customers but no real friends, until he meets and goes through life-challenging events with Dale Denton (Seth Rogen), a patron who is becoming his best buddy. But the hackneyed action—car chases, idiotic bandits, a high-school senior with a family that curses like the best of the younger set—coupled with insipid, non-sequitur dialogue that goes on seemingly without end for the movie's nearly two-hour stretch—derails this express shortly after its opening half-hour.

What promises to be a Knocked-Up-Superbad-style relationship between Dale Denton, a twenty-five-year old court process server, and a young woman seven years his junior, soon degenerates into an almost formless story of male bonding, the ties among disparate people firmed up after the young men are chased by a drug kingpin who knows that one of them had witnessed a murder.

Pineapple Express is quite a departure for director David Gordon Green, whose George Washington —about how preteens in a small North Carolina town react to a terrible accident—wooed the arthouse crowd with its startling imagery and naturalistic performances. Though Tim Orr's lens casts a wide net across the big screen at the multiplex, pedestrian panoramas take the place of dreamy cinematography.

As Dale Denton, Seth Rogen serves subpoenas on an array of people, using disguises to wend his way into their confidence while at night he courts Angie (Amber Heard), a cute high-school kid who will doubtless forget about him when she enters college. He buys ultra-strong marijuana from dealer Saul Silver (James Franco), who uses the money, so he says, to keep his "bubby" (grandmother) in a nursing home. Saul, eager to make just one friend out of a customer, is led by Dale into the business of murderous drug dealers because Dale had witnessed a murder of a rival drug lord and company, whose perps track him down by the weed he dropped at the crime scene. Ted Jones (Gary Cole), together with accomplices Budlofsky (Kevin Corrigan), Matheson (Craig Robinson) and corrupt police officer Carol (Rosie Perez) are determined to kill Dale and anyone with whom he has been in contact, Saul's pal Red (Danny McBride) crosses over into the criminal conspiracy, though Dale hopes to win him back to the cause of the good guys. Throughout the chase, Dale has time to meet his sweetheart's parents (Ed Begley Jr. and Nora Dunn), who try desperately to evoke laughs from the audience by their own vulgar vocabulary.

Director Green might do well (albeit not financially) to go back to his métier making indie films while the Apatow team would do well to concentrate on satirical romance and leave the crime genre to Quentin Tarantino.

Trygve Allister Diesen and Lucky McKe's
Red
Opens August 8, 2008

Written By: Stephen Susco, from Jack Ketchum's novel.
Starring: Brian Cox; Tom Sizemore; Noel Fisher; Kyle Gallner; Kim Dickens; Shiloh Fernandez; and Amanda Plummer.

Magnolia Pictures
Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: B

Twenty years ago I went on a trip abroad. Rather than leave my beloved West Highland Terrier in an impersonal kennel, I boarded him with a private person who took in dogs and cats to supplement her income. Returning home, I discovered that she had gone out of town during a week that the dog was in her care, leaving the Westy with a guy who had no experience with animals. The Westy, I was told, spent most of the time in this person's cellar and apparently had not eaten or drunk for a week. He lost one-third of his weight, was severely depressed, and had to be hospitalized for diagnostic tests. I filed an action in Small Claims court to recover the cost of the hospitalization. The judge—who probably complained to his colleagues that he has to deal with dog law when he should have been appointed to the Supreme Court--simply denied the claim without explanation. Dogcatcher, rather than judge, would seem to be his métier. The only "revenge" I got was that the woman did not charge for her "services," though she had no explanation for her no-charge invoice. Real revenge would not have changed the dog's condition, but it might have made the owner feel a modicum of satisfaction.

Since moviegoers' attention tends to be more riveted to films with which they can identify strongly with a character, Red certainly piqued my interest and regard. Though the action takes place in a rural suburb of Portland, Oregon, it has the ambiance of a John Ford Western bordering on a Sam Peckinpah. Avery Ludlow (Brian Cox), a soft-spoken man in his seventies dotes on his 14-year-old mixed Airedale dog, Red, who accompanies him to the lake where they enjoy fishing. One such fishing expedition is interrupted by a scuzzy eighteen-year-old , Danny (Noel Fisher), and two other boys, Harold (Kyle Gallner) and Pete (Shiloh Fernandez). Danny point his rifle at Avery, demanding money: when an insufficient amount is declared, Danny shoots the dog dead. From that point, Avery is determined to gain revenge, although at first he would be satisfied simply to get the lad to apologize. An escalation of tension is prompted when Danny's rich and powerful father, Michael (Tom Sizemore), refuses to acknowledge his son's guilt.

Brian Cox's performance is low-key in a low-budget movie whose photographer, Harald Gunner Paalgard, separates scenes by drenching the entire screen in red, capturing the slow buildup of Avery's blood pressure by a series of close-ups, punctuating particularly the man's eyes. When we discover that shooting a dog is classified as a mere misdemeanor, we may remind ourselves of the expression, "There is no justice: only law" (though Atlanta Falcons quarterback Michael Vick might disagree). A backstory, which unfortunately is told (to a sympathetic newspaper reporter played by Kim Dickens) rather than dramatized demonstrates Avery's motivation in going all-out to get that apology.

A simple story, told in a straightforward narrative, would do well on cable though as a commercial movie it will engage the attentions primarily of dog people and of those who believe that the rich will get away with anything unless persistent, simply guys like Avery persevere in bringing them down. The story recalls Heinrich von Kleist's novella, Michael Kohlhass, wherein in 16th century Germany a horse dealer has two of his horses stolen by a crooked knight who then works the nags almost to death. The rest of the tale is about Kohlhaas's quest for justice from the Elector of Saxony, but justice is denied because the crooked knight has friends in high places. Kohlhaas rebels against the state of Saxony by forming his own army, which attacks several Saxon towns.

American director Lucky McKee initiated the film which was completed by Norwegian regisseur Trygve Allister Diesen. (Sorry, I don't know the Norwegian term for "director." All I know to say in that language is "Luftputefartoyet mitt er fullt av all," which means "My hovercraft is full of eels.") An example of Michael Kohlhaas writ small, Red is thematically about class conflict but in the case of the movie, intergenerational conflict drives the story as well. Peckinpah might be proud of the way that Avery wins justice.

There. I feel better already.

Michael Patrick King's
Sex and the City: The Movie
Opens Friday, May 30, 2008

Starring: Sarah Jessica Parker; Kim Cattrall; Kristen Davis; Cynthia Nixon; Chris Noth; and Jennifer Hudson.

Reviewed by Frank J. Avella

Prediction: most heterosexual male critics are not going to like this film; most women, homosexuals and heteroflexible males are going to love this film. Why? Because, like the groundbreaking HBO series, the pic is about women--all about women. All types of women. And it turns the tables on men.

Key moment: Samantha (the delicious Kim Cattrall) is ogling her hot surfer neighbor while eating guacamole. She gets to treat men the way they’ve been treating women for centuries.

Jealous, guys? Of course you are.
Threatened, guys, Just a little bit. Admit it.

But how refreshing to have a series (and now a film) where women take center stage and men show up in supporting roles. Pity some of the women still need to be defined by men (notably the new character played by Jennifer Hudson, but I am getting ahead of myself…)

Is Sex and the City a chick flick? Hell, yes! But after a legion of crappy teen-boy oriented action flicks, thank Christ we get something different! Even if it’s not really different at all. Not from the sitcom anyway.

Lovers of the series will be in girly-heaven, but folks not as familiar with the show, will still find things to love about it, if they allow themselves.

For those living on Uranus: Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) is a very successful writer of columns, books, articles, etc. She is BFF with three very different, very unique NYC gals: sex-crazed Samantha Jones; too-sweet Charlotte York (Kristin Davis) and brittle Miranda Hobbes (Cynthia Nixon). The four women have spent over a decade looking for love, sex, success, trendy shopping, romance and magic in the most enchanting place in the world—New York City! (Anyone dare to disagree with me on that one?)

As the film opens, Carrie is now forty and about to marry the infamous love of her life, Mr. Big (Chris Noth). BTW, the character is finally given a name in the film. Four years have gone by and: Carrie is still lovestruck; Samantha’s gotten seemingly softer; Miranda’s a bit harder and Charlotte is, well, more Charlotte!

En route to the altar, Carrie is jilted by Big—although the circumstances surrounding the way it exactly happens is muddled at best. The point is that series creator and writer/director of the film, the gifted Michael Patrick King, needed to break the two up—regardless of how questionable the plot point might be (my date had never seen an episode of the original series and enjoyed the movie but, tellingly, did not buy Big’s cold feet).

So Carrie is now depressed. Samantha is going through what most MEN go through after a long time with one person; she’s getting itchy and antsy and basically misses indiscriminate sex. Miranda has tossed Steve out for cheating on her once in their almost-completely sex-less relationship. (I found that plot contrivance annoying since it makes Miranda such an unforgiving bitch—yet it leads to such a fantastic late scene involving the Brooklyn Bridge—enough said!) Finally, Charlotte, after adopting a Chinese baby, has miraculously become pregnant herself.

The film, like the show, is more a series of vignettes than a cohesive narrative, try as the writer’s may, but it works magnificently because the terrific one-liners are there as well as the amazing NYC locales and the oddball but fascinating costumes (and shoes, let’s not forget the shoes). But it works, most especially, because of the quartet of ladies onscreen.

Whether there was any onset cat-fighting or jealousies, you would never know it from watching these truly talented gals “exist” in the best roles they will probably ever play. Career-defining portrayals.

Davis is hilarious as ever. Her moment of confrontation with Big is a keeper but it’s a certain scene in Mexico that will have you holding your sides in pain. Nixon’s nuances are all there. I just wish King hadn’t hardened her so. Cattrall can make a cat food commercial sexy and she does her best in the first half where poor Samantha is stuck in a rut. Thank God the film does her character justice in the end—even though we never really see her do what she does best. (A quick ogling to Gilles Marini who plays Samantha’s hot object of lust…gangway boys and girls and look out for a close up of the perfect ass!)

The one male allowed to do more than have a nice scene (or nice butt shot) is the terrific Chris Noth, bringing more to Big than the role as written.

Finally and foremost, Sarah Jessica Parker has never displayed more versatility and vulnerability. This gal gets better with age and does fabulous work here. I commend her for allowing herself to look her age when necessary.

At almost two and a half hours, Sex and the City, never feels long, although subplot involving Carrie’s new assistant (Hudson) felt superfluous and detrimental to positive role models for women. Yet on further reflection, the character does fit nicely into the Sex and the City scenario— a world where women have choices. They may have what they want: on their terms; at any age. And what better message to send--even if it still may be a fairy tale. (Can anyone argue that Hillary has been treated fairly?)

Yes, the film could have been more psychologically penetrating, less predictable, more naughty and less cliché’. But we’ll save those expectations and sexpectations for the sequel.

For more information, log onto: http://www.sexandthecitymovie.com/

Adam McKay's
Step Brothers
Opens Friday, July 25, 2008

Written By: Adam McKay; Will Ferrell; Story by Will Ferrell; Adam McKay; and John C. Reilly.

Starring: Will Ferrell; John C. Reilly; Adam Scott; Mary Steenburgen; Kathryn Hahn; Andrea Savage; and Richard Jenkins.

Columbia Pictures
Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: B-

Within the American mainstream culture, it's considered immature to live with your parents once you're finished with school and out in the labor market. As with all other members of the animal kingdom, it's time to go when it's time to go. Nowadays, however, the economy being what it is, some young adults may have even graduated from college and, jobless after fifty interviews, have been forced either to move back with their folks or continue to live as they always have. Brennan Huff (Will Ferrell) and Dale Doback (John C. Reilly) are stuck with a similar but different story. Entering their fifth decade of life, they are both slackers who have been employed at minimum-wage jobs off and on and think nothing of remaining in the only homes they've known. Though their parents are mature, stable people—Brennan's mom, Nancy (Mary Steenbuirgen) is some sort of executive and Dale's dad, Robert (Richard Jenkins) is a doctor—the arrangement has hardly been onerous for any of the four. Sparks fly, however, when Robert and Nancy marry, both setting up lives within Robert's domicile. While stepchildren have always been caricatured as kids who are hostile to adults they consider interlopers, the situation is slightly different in this case. The two adult children are like are like oil and water: they not only do not mix but actually hate each other, particularly when Dale has to share his small room with a total stranger.

This is the sort of story that runs through the sitcom formula: the battling stepbrothers eventually learning how much they have in common, the Hallmark syndrome taking effect as sentiment trumps comedy toward the conclusion. Step Brothers depends on the talents of Will Ferrell, part of the small circle of comic stars whose very appearance on the screen evokes laughter—and John C. Reilly, whose most engaging performance was in the role of Dewey Cox in last year's Walk Hard, which spoofs rock music while showing how a singer overcomes adversity to become a star.

Director Adam McKay notwithstanding, Step Brothers has all the markings of producer Judd Apatow's imagination, in much the way that a movie directed by Ridley Scott like Black Hawk Down shows the impact of producer Jerry Bruckheimer. With enough vulgarity in the form of bathroom humor and sexual situations to give this film an "R" rating (while the over-the-top sadism of The Dark Knight could not provoke the MPAA into anything but a PG-13), Step Brothers relies on physical humor at the expense of wit. But that's OK. The problem is that some of the setups are just plain embarrassing. An audience cannot be blamed for feeling that it's laughing at the goings-on of autistic children who happen to be thirty-nine and forty years of age. By contrast, Judd Apatow's productions of Walk Hard: the Dewey Cox Story, Knocked Up, and Superbad may be populated by animal-house characters but they have us laughing WITH them. Where those three films seem tightly scripted, Step Brothers relies too much on hit-or-miss improvisation.

One scene that's all too short has the brothers looking for work after their respective parents lay down the law. They go as a team in tuxedos while seeking a job cleaning bathrooms. One interviewer (a cameo from Seth Rogen, who would have been a welcome addition as a fleshed-out side character) congratulates the duo in the monkey suits for "irony." But for most of the one hundred minutes of screen time, the character to watch is Richard Jenkins, whose stunning accomplishment anchoring The Visitor should have forever cast him out of his typical jobs as strictly side-show. As his understanding and acceptance of his boy's immaturity turn to rage and to an ultimatum he should have utilized fifteen years earlier, he trumps both Reilly and Ferrell in the comic department. Step Brothers is not a step up for either of the two prinicpals. Ferrell was at his peak in 2003 as Buddy in Jon Favreau's far wittier Elf. This film is passable: just slightly more amusing than Semi Pro and Talladega Nights.

Adam McKay's
Step Brothers
Opens Friday, July 25, 2008

Reviewed by Adam Ritter

Like Fergie Meets Jesus

Brennan Huff (Will Ferrell) and Dale Doback (John C. Reilly) are middle-aged layabouts who never quite got around to moving out of their parents' homes.

They've kept busy watching television, masturbating, playing drums and doing all of the things that, as far as I'm concerned, transform a normal weekend into a great one.

Their simple worlds are about to be rocked however, because Brennan's mom (Mary Steenburgen looking a little on the tan side) and Dale's dad (Richard Jenkins) have fallen in love. The couple's resultant marriage makes step-brothers (and instant adversaries) of the film's stars.

Of course, the premise is irrelevant; the main function of the plot is to reunite Mr. Ferrell with his Talladega Nights co-star, Mr. Reilly (and writer / director Adam McKay) and just see what happens. Subtlety, as always, is not the trio's strong suit.

The measure by which you will judge this film entertaining is a simple one; if you can watch any Will Ferrell performance with a straight face, this is probably not your fare of choice. However if the opposite is true, then you will find yourself laughing (not hard but) often as both characters find creative ways to articulate and demonstrate their loathing for one another.

To reveal more of the plot would serve only to diminish its humor.

There isn't much here to think too deeply about and if you're the stickler who likes to point out that a movie scenario "would never happen", you may be more aggravated than amused.

Be aware though that the movie is not as family-friendly as some of the trailers (and the demographic in my theater) might insinuate.

Takashi Miike's
Sukiyaki Western Django
Opens Friday, August 29, 2008
Landmark Sunshine Ciname in New York

Starring: Quentin Tarantino; Hideaki Ito; Masanobu Ando; Koichi Sato; Kaori Momoi; Yusuke Iseya; Minamoto no Yoshitsune; Renji Ishibashi; and Yoshino Kimura.

Reviewed by Allison Ford

If foreign filmmakers are going to attempt to reinvent American cultural traditions, we could do a lot worse than to have ourselves reimagined by the Japanese.

In the 1960's, it was Italian directors that famously made films which told the story of American cowboys, gunslingers, cops and robbers – the so-called "spaghetti westerns." Sergio Leone's Fistful of Dollars and The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly were visions of America as a land of quick-draw contests and blood feuds, populated with outlaws and bandits ready to jump into the fray at a moment's notice.

Sergio Corbucci's Django was a seminal spaghetti western that inspired scores of imitators and devotees in America and abroad, and several of today's most prominent auteurs still reference the film in their current work. It features a scene where a character's ear is cut off, a graphic scene which Quentin Tarantino lovingly cribbed in Reservoir Dogs, and the main character carries a machine gun in a coffin, a feature that Roert Rodriguez adapted for El Mariachi. Django has become a cult classic among cineastes, and Japanese director Takashi Miike has sought to create his own adaptation of the film in Sukiyaki Western Django.

Set in a fictionalized version of the Old West, this "sukiyaki western" tells the story of an enigmatic lone gunman who drifts into a desert town ripped apart by the violence of two warring clans, each of whom seek a legendary buried treasure. The story is loosely based on Corbucci's film, but Miike sets his during the Genpei clan wars of the 12th century. The setting is at once distinctly American and distinctly Japanese, both modern and ancient, blending both cultures into a curious juxtaposition. Tumbleweeds blow past abandoned Shinto temples, the rival gangs hang out in saloons, drinking firewater in front of scrims painted with cherry blossoms, and the town whore wears a kimono over her garter belt. It's inextricably tied to the stories of the Old West, but the film also transcends any particular time and place, taking on the aura of a time-honored fable.

Miike shot the film in English, an important and meaningful choice. Specifically, it's American English, full of colloquialisms and idioms that sound strangely foreign when spoken by a Japanese actor. The violence is also distinctly American. The characters duke it out with revolvers and a Gatlin gun, although Miike's sense of the purpose of such violence is never lost. Each bullet and each blow are deliberate and choreographed; an unexpected interpretation of the randomness of gun battles. Surprisingly, the gore so prevalent in his films Audition and Ichi the Killer is absent from this film.

As much as Sukiyaki Western Django is a new hybrid species of film, it is also a product of Miike's influences from the spaghetti westerns of the 1960's. Film buffs will recognize shots that reference classics such as Once Upon a Time In the West, The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, and A Fistful of Dollars. Miike wears his influences with pride, and his blatant cribbing is an homage to his heroes, not just artless mimicry. Even filmgoers unfamiliar with westerns will recognize iconic sequences such as the hero jumping onto a running horse from a second story window, and the machine gun carried in a coffin; a device that has also been copied by Robert Rodriguez in El Mariachi.

Sukiyaki Western Django is imaginative and compelling, but it's not without its flaws. Despite the inspired choice to shoot the film in English, many of the actors struggle with the dialogue. Although the plot is not terribly complicated, the varying degrees of proficiency demand close attention from the viewer. It is fairly obvious that the actors have little sense of the words they're speaking, and demonstrate feeble understanding of American axioms such as "a day late and a dollar short." Actress Kaori Momoi steals scenes as a gun-toting grandmother with a hidden past, but her back story, told in flashbacks, seems not only hastily cobbled together, but ultimately out of place. Her character, Ruriko, is one of the most entertaining of the film, yet she would be more at home in a 70's B-movie.

Fans of Westerns and modern Japanese cinema will find much in Sukiyaki Western Django to get excited about. The small in-jokes delivered in the dialogue, the camera work, and in a cameo by Quentin Tarantino will satisfy knowing filmgoers. Although the film is enjoyable on its own merits, Miike is really seeking an audience that understands his many homages and reverential touches. Its success, though, lies in the incredible visual artistry of the production and its pedigree as a wildly inventive adaptation of a classic by one of cinema's modern masters. Miike's "sukiyaki western" is a fascinating reinterpretation of an old standby, and a beautiful, violent, and mournful ride.

Joshua Michael Stern's
Swing Vote
Opens August 1, 2008

Written By: Joshua Michael Stern and Jason Richman.

Starring: Kevin Costner; Madeline Carroll; Paula Patton; Kelsey Grammer; Dennis Hopper; Nathan Lane; and Stanley Tucci.

Touchstone Pictures

Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: C

At first sight this movie looks like a reinvention of Garson Kanin's 1939 film The Great Man Votes, in which Gregory Vance, a widower with two children, is a former scholar who has turned from book-to-bottle. He works as a night-watchman and his children, who know him for what he is and what he isn't, are his only admirers. Then, it is discovered that he is the only registered voter in a key precinct, leading politicians from both parties to arrive in droves bearing inducements. What he does about this situation, and the relatives who want to take his children away from him, make up the story.

Then again, the film's inspiration may have come from the Shirley Temple vehicle, Little Miss Marker, about a bookie played by Adolphe Menjou and a New York gambling colony that Ms. Temple's character reforms—or, more recently, Paper Moon, Peter Bogdanovich's 1973 film starring real-life father-daughter couple Ryan O'Neal and Tatum O'Neal in the Depression-set 1930s, featuring a foul-talking nine-year-old with no moral scruples who bails out her dad several times.

Swing Vote, however, does not come up in quality to any of these past offerings. While it provides a breakout performance for Madeline Carroll, a twelve-year-old known principally for roles in TV episodes and commercials, its sentimentality is sticky and its principal performer, Kevin Costner, is for almost all of the movie's two-hour time one-note, unsympathetic, a fellow so self-absorbed (or, rather, absorbed in his compulsive beer-swilling) that he does not know who is running for President of the United States. So far as issues are concerned, he thinks that pro-life means "Sure, isn't everybody?" Director and co-writer Joshua Michael Stern displays residents in small-town Texaco, New Mexico, as caricatures with a particularly embarrassing portrayal of gays in the most egregiously cartoonish way.

One wonders how nine-year-old Molly Johnson (Madeline Carroll) turned out so self-reliant and smart, yet so dedicated to her drunken, mostly unemployed father, Bud Johnson (Kevin Costner). Maybe the thought of moving in with her emotionally disturbed mother, Larissa (Mare Winningham) or being sent out to a foster home leaves her with the unenviable choice. Ernest "Bud" Johnson plods through the movie with a three-day growth of stubble and a can of beer that sometimes looks surgically implanted in his palm. He drinks and sleeps his way through election day while his daughter sneaks into the election booth (which is totally empty except for one sleeping official), signing her dad's name on the register. In the midst of casting her father's vote, however, the electricity is cut as the polls close, leaving both candidates in a dead-heat, state-wide. Thinking that Bud was unlawfully deprived of the ballot, officials give him ten days to decide which candidate he favors, after which time he will enter the voting booth deciding who will be "the Leader of the Free World."

As you can imagine, both candidates lobby the guy day after day. The current President, Republican Andrew Boone (Kelsey Grammer), and his opponent, Democratic Donald Greenleaf (Dennis Hopper), find out by hook or crook what the guy's hobbies are and where he might stand on issues—as though Bud even knows what an issue is. When President Boone thinks that Bud is in favor of gay marriage (not necessarily), he changes his stance and announces his new, flip-flop in favor of the policy. Believing (wrongly) that Bud is anti-choice, the Democratic candidate puts out a commercial that is the one witty piece in this humdrum picture, graphically illustrating his brand-new policy.

As the production notes state, the film is only secondarily about politics. In fact, the ways that director Stern satirizes presidential campaigns—specifically the tendency of candidates to pander to their base while reversing course whenever the supporters seem hesitant—is old-hat. Politicians do not always come through on their promises (duh!). The principal thrust of Swing Vote, then is the parent-child relationship, punctuating the the little girl's role as caretaker of her inebriated, ignorant dad, serving as well to allow his redemption. In the first instance, since each candidate plays up to Bud's positions, or what they perceive them to be, what difference would it make whom he votes for? In the second instance, Mr. Costner and Ms. Carroll offer the audience no bon mots to illuminate their personal qualities in an entertaining way.

The film is populated with side characters played with no great charm by Nathan Lane and Stanley Tucci as presidential advisers and Paula Patton as a newscaster who helps to redeem the central persona.

Jeffrey Nachmanoff's
Traitor
Opens Wednesday August 27, 2008

Written By: Jeffrey Nachmanoff; Story by Steve Martin and Jeffrey Nachmanoff.
Starromg: Don Cheadle; Guy Pearce; Said Taghmaoui; Neal McDonough; Aly Khan; Archie Panjab; Raad Rawi; Hassam Ghancy; Mozhan Marno; Adeel Akhtar; and Jeff Daniels.

Overture Films
Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: C+

How far should an undercover agent go to infiltrate the bad guys? Ask yourself: if you were working for the FBI, the CIA, Homeland Security or any U.S. counter-terrorist group with the aim of discovering the identity of terrorist cells, would you be prepared to sacrifice innocent lives in order to avoid blowing your cover? This is the dilemma facing Samir Horn (Don Cheadle), born in Sudan and consequently fluent in Arabic, who served as an American operative but now appears to have turned traitor. The bad guys believe he is one of them. They know him as an expert in explosive weaponry, ordering him to blow up sites in several countries to show us in the West that we must remain perpetually in fear. To the film's credit, the other side does get to propagate a belief that might make Americans uncomfortable. "They accuse us of destroying innocent lives," says one, "But they have used their weapons to kill many innocents on our own side."

Don Cheadle, an actor associated with liberal causes who has done much to alert Americans to the ongoing genocide in Darfur, appears to choose his roles carefully. Note, for example, his presence in such complex films as Hotel Rwanda and Crash. This time around, while he anchors a film dealing with international politics, his vehicle comes across by writer-director Jeffrey Nachamanoff as conventional as a TV series. While Traitor seeks to emulate the intellectual gamesmanship in Syriana, not even a worthy performance by Mr. Cheadle can rescue the picture from formulaic movie-making.

Like Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu's magnificent Babel, Traitor is set in several countries, with director Nachmanoff blessed with the terrific camera work of J. Michael Muro whose steadicom accented such classics as Titanic, Crash, and L.A. Confidential. The outskirts of Marrakesh, Morocco as well as the more urban scenes in Nova Scotia, Washington, Marseilles and Toronto add luster to the story, one which never really captures an audience that should have been on the edge of their seats.

Samir, an expert with explosives who served as an American special operative, appears to have gone over to the other side. When Yemeni forces overpower a terrorist group, Samir is thrown in jail where he links up with one of the few other educated prisoners, Omar (Said Taghmaoui). Since Samir is a U.S. citizen, FBI operatives Roy Clayton (Guy Pearce) and Marx Archer (Neal McDonough) are on his case as Samir becomes implicated in bombings on Spain's Costa del Sol and the U.S. consulate in Nice, France. Having succeeded in these tasks, Samir moves up the ranks while he is chased by Clayton and Archer as though they were Victor Hugo's Javert running after Jean Valjean. While Samir is careful in meeting only one mysterious American—Carter (Jeff Daniels)—he becomes the man of the month in an extensive plot to blow up several targets in the U.S. simultaneously. How to avoid this without giving up his cover is the question that will have the audience guessing.

Among the insights given to us is one that shows the Islamic fanatics as an outwardly calm group loyal to one another to the extent that they would be risk their lives to free their comrades from prison. Said Taghmaoui does a credible job as Samir's best friend, willing in at least one incident to put his own life on the line to vouch for the man when suspicions are raised. Guy Pearce also convinces in the role of an FBI operative who makes Samir's capture his principal goal, given the way he considers the man to have betrayed his country. Cheadle takes the role of a character who is less saintly than he was as Hotel Rwanda's Paul Rusesabagina, the man who tries to save everyone in that beleaguered country, but Traitor lacks the kind of suspense and emotional pull that an effective thriller demands.

Rebecca Hall and Scarlett Johansson in Vicky Cristina Barcelona

Woody Allen's
Vicky Cristina Barcelona
Opens August 15, 2008

Written By: Woody Allen
Starring: Javier Bardem; Patricia Clarkson; Penelope Cruz; Kevin Dunn; Rebecca Hall; Scarlett Johansson; and Chris Messina.

MGM/ The Weinstein Company
Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: A-

We all know people like the ones Woody Allen focuses on in his wonderfully scenic, exuberantly romantic Vicky Cristina Barcelona. From my small circle of friends and former associates, the woman most similar to one of the leading characters is married to a rich, successful doctor. She never had a need to work and raised a couple of kids who turned out just fine. Yet, she confided in me, there was another man she thinks she should have married, a guy more passionate, more imaginative than this physician, one who did not spend all his time talking shop (he is an artist of some sort) and who'd do things on the spur of the moment rather than meticulously plan vacations and the like as though he were making suggestions to a worshipping patient.

This woman I know shares a common bond with Vicky (Rebecca Hall), the first third of the title of Woody Allen's movie. All three are characters: Vicky; Cristina, who is played by 23-year-old Scarlett Johansson, and the sensuous city of Barcelona, on Spain's Eastern seaboard. People are complex—which is why divorce is so common since you'll always find some ingredient missing in a marriage—yet Allen sets up Vicky as the stable one, the woman about to be married to Doug (Chris Messina), a successful lawyer who is determined to buy a house in New York's Westchester County and talks shop, golf and electronics. Her best friend Cristina is perpetually unsatisfied, a passionate creature who is unlikely to last in marriage to anyone. Both women are beautiful: both go to Barcelona to unwind and to give Vicky the materials she needs for her Master's thesis on Catalonian culture. Neither expects what develops, which is an intense sexual relationship with Juan Antonio (Javier Bardem), a strikingly handsome and successful artist, who believes that "life is short, dull and full of pain," so why not take pleasure where it's offered? His come-on to the two women is anything but indirect as he invites them fly with him in his private plane to Oviedo for a weekend of food, wine, sightseeing and making love.

The adventurous Cristina does not hesitate. Vicky thinks no way. Of course they go, they both wind up in Juan Antonio's bed albeit at different time, and both meet the Don Juan's tempestuous ex-wife Maria Elena (Penelope Cruz). Juan Antonio force Vicky to reconsider her upcoming marriage to the bourgeois, stable lawyer back home by helping her see what her life will become if she marries Doug. Vicky also notes the dull but surface stability of her married friends Mark (Kevin Dunn) and Judy (Patricia Clarkson). Judy is cheating on Mark with a business associate.

By the film's conclusion, you may wonder which of the two young American women will have the happier life. My money is on Vicky. Bourgeois stability may be dull for the most part—talking with your upscale friends about whom to hire for your decorator, whether your 60-inch plasma TV will go better on the wall or on furniture, and what college you should put money away for long before your kids turn eighteen. We watch how Maria Elena comes close to committing suicide despite her ravishing good looks and her talent with the piano and photography, a woman who "can't get no satisfaction." We wonder what will happen to Juan Antonio when his two American tourists go home and his ex-wife winds up in an institution: will he be content jumping from affair to short relationships until he no longer projects his youthful charisma?

Expect fine acting all around. The dependable Scarlett Johansson, who has appeared in Woody Allen films Match Point and Scoop, is beautiful almost beyond words. Allen newcomer, Rebecca Hall , whose resume includes Christopher Nolan's The Prestige and Tom Vaughn's Starter for Ten, has previously been mostly known for her work on the stage, such as in her father, Peter Hall's, production of As You Like It and Galileo's Daughter.

Javier Aguirresaroabe's camerawork is nothing less than a free commercial for Barcelona tourism, a city that brags not only of a sparkling business center but also of the winding, cobble-stone streets that beckon millions of tourist annually—to say nothing of Gaudi's church, a leading, unfinished attraction that is a metaphor for the concept that romance is romance only until it has been completed. (Another way of putting this is that romantic poetry would not exist if every potential writer were completed and happy with his or her partner.)

On the one hand, so-called mainstream film-makers are turning out more complex product with dark humor—like Dark Knight, which has enough complexity and mayhem for critics to warn parents not to take their children. On the other hand, some film-makers known for their arty output, are taking a chance at commercialism, e.g. Mike Leigh (Vera Drake, Secrets and Lies) has just released Happy-Go-Lucky, a frothy fair without a spoonful of darkness. Woody Allen's film for the year 2008 is his most commercial entry in years, meant as a compliment for this remarkable bit of celluloid. Even the soundtrack is to die for, featuring some snippets of Spanish guitar from the repertory of Isaac Albeniz, and Giulia Tellarini, Maik Alemany, Alejandro Mazzoni and Jens Neumaier's intriguing, oft-repeated song, "Barcelona." Mr. Allen, who had tanked with serious fare like the Ingmar Bergmanesqe Shadows and Fog and who has failed to get anything like near-unanimous positive reviews from the critics, now gives us Vicky Cristina Barcelona, filmed in Spain's busiest and most cosmopolitan city. What would Mr. Allen let us see as a sequel: a movie entitled Juan Antonio Maria Elena Sevilla, or perhaps Doug Vicky Bedford Hills?

Penelope Cruz in Vicky Cristina Barcelona

Woody Allen's
Vicky Cristina Barcelona
Opens August 15, 2008

Written By: Woody Allen
Starring: Javier Bardem; Patricia Clarkson; Penelope Cruz; Kevin Dunn; Rebecca Hall; Scarlett Johansson; and Chris Messina. Narrated by Christopher Evan Welch

Reviewed by Wendy R. Williams

Woody Allen has helmed his best film in years; his Vicky Cristina Barcelona is a gorgeous Valentine to life, love, youth and the city of Barcelona. The film’s cinematography (Javier Aguirresarobe) is so breathtaking that Barcelona’s champagne- infused air and light seem to radiate from the screen.

The film is also incredibly sexy; Woody may be seventy-two years old but he has not forgotten the siren’s lure and with this film has left the guilt-infused sexuality of his earlier films to give us an anything-goes frolic.

The Vicky in the story is played by English actress Rebecca Hall. Vicky is an upper middle class American girl who is engaged to Doug, a wealthy financier played by Chris Messina. Vicky travels to Barcelona for the summer to complete her thesis on Catalan Culture (a telling choice for a supposedly straight young lady). Vicky invites her best friend, the free-spirited Cristina (played by Scarlett Johansson) to join her and to stay with her at the home of some old family friends – Mark and Judy Nash (played by Kevin Dunn and Patricia Clarkson).

The die is cast when they meet painter Juan Antonio (played by Javier Bardem). The girls eye him at an art gallery opening and when they later see him at a restaurant, he propositions both of them in one of the funniest come-ons I have ever heard.

Juan Antonio wants the girls to fly away for a weekend in Oviedo where they will partake in food, wine, sightseeing and group sex. Vicky is less than impressed, but Cristina jumps at the chance so off they all go - the game-for-anything Juan Antonio and Cristina accompanied by the supposedly more prudish Vicky.

I don’t want to give away too much of the plot, but everyone has a good time in Olviedo except for Cristina who is stricken by a mild case of food poisoning (it is always best to not drink the water). The merry three-some then returns to Barcelona where Vicky continues with her studies and wedding plans and the now recovered Cristina begins her love affair with Juan Antonio.

But all is not well; Vicky is now filled with doubts, questioning her choice to marry a good, stable (and wealthy --- Hello!) man. Cristina has barely settled in with Juan Antonio when his crazy ex-wife, the painter Maria Elena (played by Penelope Cruz) comes to live with them while she recovers from a suicide attempt.

For a while it seems like the chaos will work. Vicky squashes her doubts and marries Doug and Cristina decides that she likes both Juan Antonio and Maria Elena (the famous kissing scene). But catharsis is needed and it arrives with a decided bang.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona is an incredibly funny movie, containing some of the most hysterical scenes I have ever seen in a Woody Allen movie. Penelope Cruz is hilarious; her scenes with Javier Bardem are classic Woody Allen, right up there with Judy Davis’s telephone scene in Husbands and Wives. Bardem and Cruz scenes are so explosive that the beauteous Scarlett Johansson is reduced to playing their straight man, a part she does perform with aplomb.

A lot has been written about the film’s three well known stars: Scarlett Johansson; Javier Bardem; and Penelope Cruz. Not as much has been written about Rebecca Hall, who is the heart of the film. Hall is an incredible actress, just as beautiful as Johansson and Cruz and quietly funny to boot. She is utterly hysterical in the Juan Antonio pick-up scene.

Also of note is Patricia Clarkson; Clarkson does a fine job playing one of the film’s catalysts. But does Clarkson ever deliver a bad performance?

And last but not least, the city of Barcelona has never looked so beautiful. It will be impossible to watch this film without becoming mad-for-Gaudi.

Bravo to Woody Allen for creating his best film in years. Manhattan is back and it is Barcelona.

Tom McCarthy’s
The Visitor
Opens in Select Theaters Friday April 11th 2008

Starring: Richard Jenkins; Haaz Sleiman; Danai Jekesai Gurira; Hiam Abbass; Marian Seldes; Maggie Moore; Michael Cumpsty; and Bill McHenry.

Reviewed by Alejandra Serret

The Visitor, directed by Tom McCarthy, tells the story of a lonely, discontent, middle-aged widower whose life is transformed by a weekend trip to New York City. Richard Jenkins (Six Feet Under and There’s Something About Mary) plays Walter Vale, a respected professor, who takes little pleasure in the class he teaches. He is a familiar character, weighted by boredom, but disinterested in change. He fumbles through an awkward piano lesson showing an interest in music, yet gives up when his performance is less than stellar. And so, his life, rambles on at the same, even pace, until he is asked to present a paper at an economic conference in New York City. The weekend trip to his apartment (which has for many months, maybe even years, gone without a visit) changes his life, along with the lives of others.

Walter Vale begrudgingly travels to New York City, from his home in Connecticut to participate in a three day conference at NYU. When he arrives at the apartment he has owned for twenty years, he finds Zainab (Danai Gurira) submerged in his tub. Her screams alert Tarek (Haaz Sleiman), her boyfriend, who angrily pushes Walter against the wall. But Tarek and Zainab learn quickly that they are in fact intruders and the victims of a real estate scam. As illegal immigrants, Tarek, a Syrian man and Zainab, from Senegal, have few options. Softened by their plight Walter asks them to stay, while they look for another place to live. Over the next few days, their awkward attempt at conversation burgeons into a friendship that is found and forged through music.

Tarek, a talented drummer, eases Walter into playing the African drum. Walter’s uptight disposition begins to unravel, revealing a man willing to learn new things, a man eager to play in drum circles and visit jazz clubs. What starts off as a film focused on the possibility of unlikely friendships, morphs into another, when Tarek is arrested for a trivial, imagined, offense. Tarek is held in a detention center in Queens with several hundred other illegal immigrants.

And this is where McCarthy stumbles. Walter devotes himself to helping Tarek regain his freedom and from it, forms yet another “unexpected” relationship with Tarek’s mother, Mouna (Hiam Abbass). While they grieve Tarek’s tumultuous situation, they find comfort in one another. The scenario is believeable (anything is believable if done in the right way) but it doesn’t translate through Mouna, Walter, and Tarek. McCarthy is overeager in his attempt to transform these characters and to make a statement from their disastrous predicament. He falters in character development. Yes, I understand that bonds can be made quickly, but I didn’t believe theirs. So Tarek and Walter play in a drum circle and share a meal. But I don’t believe Walter’s reasons for doing it. And then McCarthy falters further with Mouna. Okay, mother comes to rescue her child and forms a friendship with the man who is helping him to regain his freedom. But a romantic connection—really?

After Tarek’s incarceration The Visitor’s core begins to crumble. If you’re going to build a film on the unlikely relationships of its characters, you have to make the viewers believe in the possibility of them. And I didn’t. The characters themselves need to be rich, whether it’s in their indifference, passion, monotony. McCarthy made a bold attempt with The Visitor, a film with an important message at its core, but it did little to inspire.

Jonathan Levine's
The Wackness
Opens July 3, 2008

Written By: Jonathan Levine

Cast: Ben Kingsley; Josh Peck; Olivia Thirlby; Famke Janssen; Mary-Kate Olsen; Jane Adams; and Method Man.

Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten

Grade: B

Did you ever go to an ophthalmologist who does not wear corrective lenses? If not, there's a good reason. People become interested in professions because of some personal contact with their accoutrements. (We won't try to discuss why some enter the field of proctology.) The same applies to psychiatrists and psychoanalysts. How do people decide that they want to go into that field? The likely reason is that they have emotional problems themselves, have dug into the causes, seeking other psychoanalysts to work out their problems while trying to help others. If there's one shrink who fits that bill to an extreme, that would be Dr. Squires (Sir Ben Kingsley), one of the two principals in Jonathan Levine's The Wackness (which means "the worst"). As played against type by the great Sir Ben Kingsley, Jeff Squires does not quite steal the show, given a magnetic performance by Josh Peck in the role of a likable high-school graduate whose problems is that he has not yet sown his wild oats (this is a family publication, but you know what we mean). As his shrink—an immature fellow who takes his payments from Josh in weed, not cash—advises, "You don't need medication: you need to (fill in the blank).

The Wackness, which won the audience award and a standing ovation when it was presented at a Sundance festival, is the kind of off-beat, adolescent-angst story similar to Richard Kelly's Donnie Darko, with Josh Peck substituting for Jake Gyllenhaal. The difference is that Peck's character, Luke Shapiro, does not envision bunny rabbits but lithe women with whom he would like to end his painful virginity. Such a liberated prize comes in the form of Dr. Squires' stepdaughter, Stephanie (Olivia Thirlby), who takes an assertive role in setting up a relationship with Luke, introduces him to the joys of lovemaking, but is not at her age interested in forming deep relationships. The story is set in 1994, its New York pothead community concerned that Mayor Giuliani is taking away some of the joys that hip New Yorkers have cherished. To cover his dope-dealing tracks, Luke zips around areas like Central Park with a wagon that purportedly sells ices but which actually holds the ganja he acquires from Percy (Method Man).

Writer-director Levine introduces us to a typical cause of teenage angst and its opposite side, sexual abandon, in looking at the parents of Stephanie and Luke. Stephanie's dad lights up a hooka at the end of each session with Luke, while his wife (Famke Janssen), is fed up with her man's puerility. On Luke's side, dad (David Wohl) is so deeply in debt to the disgust of his wife (Talia Balsam) that eviction from their Upper East Side digs is on the horizon.

Petra Komer films a New York of fourteen years ago, even getting in a shot of the Twin Towers, but for some reason the photography indoors is unduly dark. This is true not only in Dr. Squires' office, where low lighting sets an ambiance, but in the headquarters of the Jamaican-American dope seller and in the apartment of pothead Eleanor (Jane Adams). Lighting aside, the soundtrack is loaded with the tunes of the time, including Nas's "The World is Yours," Raekwon and Ghostface Killah's "Heaven and Hell," The Notorious Mr. B.I.G.'s "The What," and R. Kelly's "Bump and Grind." The picture is anchored by a top performance by 22-year-old Josh Peck ("Spun," "Mean Creek"), who resembles a young James Stewart who plays the role as an open-mouthed stoner. The picture should connect with a youthful, hip audience today.

Mary-Kate Olsen and Ben Kingsley
The Wackness

Jonathan Levine's
The Wackness
2008 Tribeca Film Festival
April 23 - May 4, 2008

Cast: Ben Kingsley; Josh Peck; Olivia Thirlby; Famke Janssen; Mary-Kate Olsen; Jane Adams; and Method Man.

Reviewed by Noelle Ashley

Sometimes a shrink saves his patient's life. Sometimes it's the other way around.

One of the more celebrated movies screened at the Tribeca Film Festival is The Wackness, a term referring to "the glass half empty."

Set in New York City in the hot, sticky months of 1994, it is a moving and witty story of a humorous therapist (Ben Kingsley) who needs even more help than the patient.

Drugs in a doctor's office are usually doled out by the psychiatrist, not a troubled teen. Now meet Luke (Josh Peck), who pays for doctor visits with the currency of weed. Luke, a likable 18-year-old from a dysfunctional family, forms a unique bond with Dr. Squires. Although their ages could make them father and son, their friendship resembles more of a brotherhood.

The two males stray even farther from the typical doctor-patient relationship as they set out on a quest for sex, drugs and money. Dealing drugs is Luke's source of income the summer before college. It's also one way to meet girls.

Union (Mary-Kate Olsen) is a luminous blonde who hangs out in Central Park and past-their-prime bars where she can make fun of "creepy old people." Dr. Squires takes a liking to her, for a few minutes at least. Luke, however, can only think about one girl: Stephanie (Olivia Thirlby), his first love. She is an 18-year-old brunette who speaks in the language of slang and smokes cigarettes while her family fights. Yelling parents is a steady backdrop in both their lives, but Stephanie and Luke escape their problems one chemistry-filled weekend on Fire Island.

Ironically, Stephanie is Dr. Squires' daughter -- or step-daughter, as Luke reminds him.

The plot builds as a coming-of-age, character-driven picture that captures the spirit and the music of city kids in the '90s. The language of teenagers weaves into the dialogue, which flows to the beat of the soundtrack i.e., A Tribe Called Quest, Notorious B.I.G., Method Man, Raekwon and The Wu-Tang Clan. The audience is brought back to '94 as the characters talk about Mayor Giuliani cracking down on crime in New York. It was a time of pagers, before cell phones and laptops became ubiquitous, and a time when M.D.s still hesitated before prescribing medication for depression. In fact, Luke has to beg and plead and finally says, "Just give me the happy pills." Although he never gets his hands on legal drugs, he has plenty of the other kind, and he shares it all with Dr. Squires, who takes enough over-the-counter pills for both of them. These kind of character flaws elicited laughs from the audience.

The theme of youth emanates around the innocence of Luke. Despite his drug dealing, he is just like any other kid trying to figure out life and love.

After the film, the audience is left with the image on the movie's poster: Luke walking around with marijuana tucked away in its hiding place as he and Dr. Squires wheel around an ice cart. As the movie's tagline reads, "Sometimes it's right to do the wrong things."

Written and directed by Jonathan Levine, The Wackness is the winner of the Sundance Film Festival 2008 Audience Award (Dramatic). Its nomination for the Sundance Grand Jury Prize shows that this film could be more than a cult hit. Acquired by Sony Pictures Classics, The Wackness comes out in cinemas July 3, 2008.

Timor Bekmambetov’s
Wanted
Opens Friday, June 27, 2008

Starring: James McAvoy; Morgan Freeman; Angelina Jolie; and Terence Stamp.

Reviewed by Frank J. Avella

An action film starring Scottish thesp James McAvoy (so amazing in Atonement) and a sinewy, heavily tatto’d Angelia Jolie, based on comic books and directed by a Russian. Hmmm. For me, that’s not exactly a draw. I will admit I have a built in problem with the action/adventure genre, or I should say, what it’s become: a cartoonish, ultra-violent, sense-bombardment computer game! I do admire the two leads, though, so I had a few miniscule hopes…

Well, I am shocked and delighted to report, Wanted (crappy title notwithstanding)--along with Iron Man--is the most exciting, insanely-entertaining film of the summer so far. The flick grabs a hold of you from the get go and never lets go, not for a millisecond.

This is the U.S. debut of celebrated Russian director Timur Bekmambetov (Night Watch, Day Watch) who is comfortable enough with the genre that he appropriates from some of the best American films (I’ll let you decide what you’ve seen before), while imploding and exploding it at his whim—but always to great filmic effect. Bullets slow down; back up through the body they’ve already penetrated, and zoom back to where they were first fired. Our protagonist is beaten to near death, only to find himself in a rejuvenation tub, fully healed in a few hours. But the dazzling effects are just the icing on a wild cakeride.

The basic plot surrounds Wesley Gibson (McAvoy) who is stuck in a dead-end job, has a cheating girlfriend, a betrayer best friend and a general sucky life. That is until Fox (Jolie) and her gang of assassins explodes their way into his life and takes it over. The group, led by Sloane (Morgan Freeman, having a blast), are members of a thousand year old gang known as the Fraternity and Gibson’s absent father was a member. He has just been killed and his son is being initiated…initially against his will.

Smartly scripted by Michael Brandt, Derek Haas and Chris Morgan, Wanted has the requisite non-stop action, pulse-pounding thrill sequences and stunning chases (in particular, a dazzler scene involving Jolie shooting up a storm while upside down over the front end of a car), but the film also puts forth some fascinating and thought-provoking ideas involving trust, faith, loyalty and the nature of courage. Imagine: actual ideas in an action film?!

In some of the more harrowing sequences, Wesley is brutalized as part of his indoctrination. The moments seem never-ending. I don’t recall a film protagonist suffering so onscreen in such a sadistic manner. Not since Fight Club, anyway.

McAvoy is a revelation, so appealing yet so believable once he’s become an assassin himself. Is there anything this young actor cannot do? Jolie speaks less than Clint Eastwood in one of his spaghetti westerns, but is a potent presence. And there’s nothing cooler than watching her handle firepower! Her Fox is Mrs. Smith after a few too many lifefucks.

Wanted boasts terrifically eye-popping visuals as well as extraordinary camerawork by Mitchell Amundsen. Danny Elfman’s score is appropriately bombastic. And the film soars, in large part, thanks to the editing wizardry of David Brenner (an Oliver Stone man!)

Wesley’s narration crackles and moves the film along nicely. Near the beginning he ponders why his father vanished when he was an infant, spewing the following in the third person: “I wonder if his father looked into his baby blues and thought, Did I just father the most insignificant asshole of the Twentieth Century?” It’s self-deprecating, hilarious lines like that that separate Wesley from most of the cocky and annoying protags out there and make us really want to follow him around for two hours.