Austin Chick's
August
Opens Friday, July 11, 2008
Starring: Josh
Hartnett; Naomie Harris; Adam Scott; Emmanuelle
Chriqui; Andre Royo; Robin Tunney; Rip Torn; and
David Bowie.
Reviewed
by Wendy R. Williams
Austin Chick's new film,
August, takes the viewer time-travelling
through the world of the late nineties' dot com
boom. Dot com-mania was a fantasy world, populated
by true believers like the towns people in Hans
Christian Anderson's The Emperor's New Clothes.
And like the story of the fairy tale, when the
dot com bubble collapsed, the world finally realized
that the information highway was populated by
naked kings. Yes, the internet was the future,
but almost no one was making any money.....yet.
And no one wanted to be the first to say, "The
Emperor has no clothes."
John Hartnett plays
Tom in August (named for the month just
before 9/11). Tom runs an internet company with
the help of his hard working brother Joshua, played
by Adam Scott. Their internet company is staffed
by a large group of attractive older children
(twenty-somethings) who, according to Tom's father,
David (played by Rip Torn), sit at Ikea desks
and eat Oreos.
The dot com boom
was a sexy world; a world where youth ruled; a
world where no one wanted to say that they did
not UNDERSTAND the internet because that would
mean they themselves were not COOL. It wasn't
COOL to not understand the buzz words and to not
be in-with-the-in-crowd who was developing the
alternative universe called cyberspace. So we
all drank the kool aid and admired the Emperor's
new clothes.
Josh Hartnett plays
Tom with James Dean style angst. He mopes, he
sulks, he charms, he bulllshits. And he uses:
uses his brother; uses his girlfriend (played
by Naomie Harris); uses his assistants (played
by Robin Tunney and Andre Royo); and most of all,
uses his long-suffering brother Joshua (played
by Adam Scott). Tom is a man who is going down,
the only plot point in the film being just when
will Tom hit rock bottom.
But in the bleak world of August, there
is also a touch of redemption. When Tom's world
finally collapses at the feet of a bail-out investor
(played by David Bowie), Tom finds a touch of
nobility in his soul and uses it save some of
the people he has harmed.
The film
is at its best when it depicts the dot com world
- the clubs, the offices, and players of that
fume-powered universe. It is an atmosphere flick,
a slice of life in a time now gone. And Austin
Chick's August does a good job of portraying
this fantasy world, filtered through the smoke-and-mirrors-magic
of pre 9/11 Manhattan.
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.
Not Rated.
110 minutes. © 2008 by Harvey Karten Member:
NY Film Critics Online.
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.
Not Rated.
100 minutes. © 2008 by Harvey Karten Member:
NY Film Critics Online
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.
Rated PG-13.
120 minutes. © 2008 by Harvey Karten Member:
NY Film Critics Online
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
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.
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.
Rated PG-13. 152
minutes. © 2008 by Harvey Karten Member:
NY Film Critics Online
Wayne Price's
The Doorman
Opens July 18, 2008
Written By: Lucas
Akoskin, Wayne Price
Cast: Lucas Akoskin,
Matthew Mabe, Peter Bogdanovich, Thom Filiica,
Denise Qunones, Amy Sacco
Gigantic Release
Reviewed for New
York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: C
At my age, gaining
access to the right club is picking up the appropriate
Ace when I'm holding a ten, Jack, Queen and King
of clubs. For me, watching a movie about a doorman
at a night club is in equal parts a trip down
memory lane and a voyage to a foreign land. A
movie about a doorman? It's not a bad idea at
all to hone in on some of the people who act in
society's supporting roles, though one might not
necessarily find a doc about a bathroom attendant
to be compelling viewing—unless, of course,
Judd Apatow has a hand in the writing.
The Doorman
is a mockumentary, a subgenre that tends to add
interest to a movie rife with talking heads. As
a maker of this mockumentary, though, Wayne Price
in no way even begins to match up to the talent
of Christopher Guest (Best in Show, Waiting
for Guffman). His principal character may
be charming and comic at first, but quickly becomes
so irritating (particularly when he peppers virtually
every sentence with the adolescent filler "you-know")
that the movie outlives even its brief seventy-six
minute length halfway through. What's more most
of the men and women, many of whom play their
real-life selves, comes off as superficial as
the consumerist quartet in Michael Patrick King's
Sex and the City.
The title doorman,
known allegedly by the hippest people in New York,
Miami and Vegas, calls himself Trevor W., though
he is played by the Argentinian actor Lucas Akoskin—who
sports a heavy Latino accent. He is the creation
of writers Wayne Price and Lukas Akoskin, who
originally thought of making a short video about
a guy who imagines himself to be a subway doorman,
emerging from the train with a list and refusing
to let most people board "the VIP car."
That sounds like something that could be funny
for about three minutes. Instead, Akoskin and
director Wayne Price extended the idea to focus
on a guy who is clueless about his real importance
but believes himself to be a celebrity, an authority
figure who could bar entrance to hip night clubs
to all he does not like or who are not wearing
the right shoes, or maybe too old, too uncool,
or what-have-you. During the film he is shown
using his Great Powers at the door—though
one big guy who is denied entry simply barges
through and, since the doorman is not a bouncer
, he can do nothing about that.
Lucas Akoskin,
then, tells "his own story" in a movie
that has far too much improvised dialogue, the
principal raison d'etre presumably being to show
off a cast of real-life movers and shakers, none
of whom I know (except for Peter Bogdanovich who
inexplicably invites Lucas to dine with him and
to listen to Lucas's plea for a film part). The
conversation involves one of the few genuinely
humorous lines: Bogdanovich tells the waiter that
he does not eat dairy, while Lucas curries favor
by adding, "Yes and I don't eat dirty either.
Clean it up and maybe I'll order it."
Lucas is at the
top of the game when he shows up in an assortment
of purportedly high-fashion threads at a New York
Club and is also invited to work at special events
at Las Vegas and Miami. While VIPs like Thom Felicia,
a notable interior designer, and Amy Sacco, owner
of Lot 61 club, tell the interviewer their impressions
of Lucas, Lucas eventually finds himself on hard
times when he is fired from his job presumably
because he did not recognize Nicolas Cage and
refused him entry. He applies for jobs as a rock
singer, a TV actor, and a film star, in all cases
showing himself to be boorish, ill equipped to
sing, and obnoxiously insistent on his qualifications.
The point of the film appears to be that when
one is given a little authority in a small sphere
of operations, he becomes grandiose—emerging
as a sad caricature of a man. Again, good idea,
Mr. Price and nice try, Mr. Akoskin, but while
the tagline is valid, "Trevor W. knows people.
More importantly he knows people who know him,"
those of us in the movie audience may find little
to cheer in a vehicle that falls short of entertainment.
Not Rated.
76 minutes. © 2008 by Harvey Karten Member:
NY Film Critics Online
Marcos Carnevale's
Elsa & Fred
Opens June 27, 2008
Written By: Marcos
Carnavale, Lily Ann Martin, Marcela Guerty
Starring: China
Zorrilla; Manuel Alexandre; Blanca Portillo; Roberto
Carnaghi; Jose Angel Eglo; and Gonzalo Urtizberea.
Distimax Inc
Reviewed for New
York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: B
For every hundred
movies about romance among the young, there's
maybe one that deals with the chemistry of folks
over the age of sixty. In this case, the Elsa
of the title is eighty-two, her "boyfriend"
is seventy-eight. When the emotions of people
over seventy are given expression, their children
are more than likely to say "ewwww,"
as though there's something perverted about dirty
old people, who should presumably keep their bond
private—certainly not show their exuberance
by stomping about Rome's Trevi Fountain.
Elsa and Fred are
two people of different temperaments—she
is bubbly, outgoing; while he is by her own judgment
subdued. But their kinship works in this small
film featuring the Montevideo-born China Zorrilla
and Madrileno Manuel Alexandre in the roles of
an Argentinian lonely-heart and a Spanish man
who is grieving the recent death of his wife,
a self-absorbed hypochondriac with a bevy of varied-colored
pills.
Marcos Carnevale,
Argentinian by nationality, examines the partnership
while at the same time paying homage to the movies,
in particular to La Dolce Vita, undoubtedly
Elsa's the number one favorite, one that has her
comparing her own youthful self to Anita Ekberg.
The movie serves as well as a travel poster for
Spanish tourism, featuring a vibrant Madrid with
upscale restaurants and urban sophistication.
Elsa and Fred meet
cute after she has accidentally broken the headlights
of a car parked behind hers. Fred's daughter,
Cuca (Blanca Portillo), the woman whose car was
damaged by Else, is meddlesome, playing the role
of her dad's overseer—entering his apartment
without knocking while urging him to invest in
a business which he passively agrees to do. But
when he again has someone to live for, he reconsiders
putting his life on automatic pilot. With Fred
pulled reluctantly, at first, into living once
again, the film gains its heartening motif.
Else &
Fred will likely be seen by people long past
their prime, which is unfortunate. Young people,
who likely caricature those in their declining
years, as irrelevant at best and deplorable at
worst, will gain insight into the real selves
of people beyond the age of seventy who are, like
these two delightful folks, teenagers in oldster
bodies.
Not Rated.
106 minutes. © 2008 by Harvey Karten Member:
NY Film Critics Online
Peter Tolan's
Finding Amanda
Opened June 27, 2008
Cast: Matthew
Broderick; Brittany Snow;, Peter Facinelli; Steve
Coogan; Maura Tierney; and Bill Fagerbakke.
Written By: Peter Tolan
Distributed by Magnolia Pictures
Reviewed for New
York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: B
Anyone reading
the supermarket tabloids is familiar with the
number of stories about celebrities entering rehab—for
drugs, usually, some for drinking, others for
gambling. But whoever heard of entering a classy
rehab center in Malibu for hooking? Peter Tolan,
did, that's who. His film, Finding Amanda,
is about a twenty-year-old prostitute whose uncle,
a TV comedy writer in Pasadena, heads over to
Las Vegas to find his niece and get into a center
which he had already paid for. If there's really
no such thing as "curing" a prostitute,
who cares? The movie uses that theme to show us
that the forty-three-year-old uncle is more in
need of help than the woman who is half his age.
Tolan has cast his film well, especially in the
person of Brittany Snow in the title role of Amanda,
one who determines that eight clients in a weekend
would give her more money, a fabulous apartment,
and even more fun than her job at the International
House of Pancakes could give her in an entire
month. The story has a tonal change that's quite
acceptable, as many light comedies turn serious
during the final third of a story. In this case
the switch works: it's competently prepared for
by all that precedes.
Money seems no
object, at least for a while, for Taylor Peters
(Matthew Broderick), a richly rewarded TV comedy
writer whose show is in the toilet with low ratings
and who seems oblivious to his chances of being
more canned than its laughter. When his wife,
Lorraine (Maura Tierney) prods him to convince
his niece to enter rehab, he agrees with no objection,
not because he really is into helping the young
woman but because going to Vegas gives him the
chance to continue his gambling addiction—to
the horses and then to the card tables—even
to go off the wagon and become the drunk he once
was. He finds Amanda in a hotel lobby aggressively
out to seduce the men, meets her idiotic boyfriend,
Greg (Peter Facinelli), who finds nothing wrong
with bringing girls into her home, and is not
too concerned that she is not convinced from his
pitch. He has his own problems by steadily losing
at his favorite hotel, where he is welcomed big
just as all losers are, and convinces the casino
host, Jerry (Steve Coogan) that the check he bounced
will be covered by a bank transfer.
The weakest segment
of the picture deals with boyfriend Greg, an odd-looking,
hostile fellow who does his best to get rid of
Uncle Taylor, even pouring pasta and sauce all
over the older man's clothes. Aside from a splendid
side role by Steve Coogan (24 Hour Party People),
who somehow is not credited with the role on the
Internet Movie database imdb.com, much credit
goes to Brittany Snow, whose Amanda is happy-go-lucky
for the bulk of the movie but in one scene finds
her exploring herself in some depth and finding
a core of self-loathing. Matthew Broderick, who
at the age of forty-six looks not a day older
than when he played Ferris Bueller in 1986, turns
in his usual reliable performance as a man who
loses his money, his sobriety, his soul.
Rated R.
90 minutes. (c) 2008 by Harvey Karten, Member,
New York Film Critics Online.
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.
Rated PG-13
110 minutes. © 2008 by Harvey Karten Member:
NY Film Critics Online
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
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.
Rated PG-13.
92 minutes. © 2008 by Harvey Karten Member:
NY Film Critics Online
M. Night Shyamalan's
The Happening
Opens June 13, 2008
Written By: M.
Night Shyamalan
Starrung: Mark
Wahlberg; Zooey Deschanel; John Leguizamo; Spencer
Breslin; Ashlyn Sanchez; Betty Buckley; Tony Vevon;
Victoria Clark; Frank Collison; and Robert Bailey,
Jr.
20th Century Fox
Reviewed for New
York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: C
Leonardi da Vinci
once said, "The time will come when men such
as I will look upon the murder of animals as they
now look on the murder of men." Given the
way the vast majority of human begins think nothing
of subjecting defenseless animals to horrendous
living conditions and the degradation of the slaughterhouse,
one is not surprised to find that we homo sapiens
have been unkind not only to animals but to all
of nature. But nature is not defenseless at all,
taking revenge on us with regularity. Think of
Katrina, of the floods this month that inundated
Cedar Rapids, Iowa, of a tornado that killed four
children in a Boy Scout camp, of fires that claims
the lives of thousands, of earthquakes that have
recently destroyed the lives of tens of thousands,
particularly in the poverty-stricken Asian lands
like Bangladesh. Nature may be a friend, but it
can be awfully hostile as the residents of the
American Northeast find out in M. Night Shyamalan's
"The Happening." Foods that have caused
salmonella like, most recently, a breed of tomatoes,
are just a taste of what is to come, as grass,
trees, flowers and plants in general have their
day destroying lives and putting fear into the
minds of millions. Killer trees: Maybe President
Reagan knew what he was talking about, because
in Philadelphia, plants have spread deadly toxins
into the air, affecting everything with a pulse
in the City of Brotherly Love. What's different
about these poisons is that they do not make people
keel over, get sick, even die, but affect their
brain cells to cause them to become suicidal.
There's a big shop
of horrors going down in Philly, the opening scenes
of The Happening being the only truly
scary segment of the story. In fact the very first
scene has the needed effect, after which the picture
gets duller by the minute thanks some wooden acting
and redundant suicides. In Central Park, two women
are sitting on a bench when they note that people
around them have become immobile, as though paralyzed,
perhaps by chemical warfare. One of the women
slowly pulls a dagger-like pin from her hair and,
just as you expect her to plunge it into her neighbor,
she slides it casually through her own neck. Minutes
later, at a construction site, workmen begin throwing
themselves from the roof of a building, one shot
being tragically reminiscent of an experience
at the World Trade Center on 9/11. While the talking
heads on the news programs suggest a possible
terrorist attack, the truth eventually comes out:
plants, whether by vindictive design or by some
freak occurrence of nature for which the green
things are not at all responsible, are messing
up our brains, causing us to want to die.
Since all the action
takes place within a twenty-four period, the populace
could not imagine that staying indoors with windows
closed could save their lives. Instead there is
a mass exodus from Philadelphia, which is hardly
the thing to do since the plague is to spread
throughout the Northeast. (This makes us wonder
what trees have against New York, Pennsylvania,
Maine and company since logging takes place in
the Pacific Northwest!)
But of course there's
an intimate story, one that revolves around high
school science teacher, Elliot Moore (Mark Wahlberg)
who has a nutty problem worrying that his wife,
Alma (Zooey Deschanel), is having an affair when
all she did was enjoy a tiramisu one day with
a guy named Joey, who keeps calling her. (Joey's
voice is played by the writer-director.) Elliot's
friend Julian (John Leguizamo), with an eight-year-old
daughter in tow, Jess (Ashlyn Sanchez), has the
real problem, as his wife is not with him during
the epidemic. He leaves his girl with the Moores
to search for her. As the Moores and Jess bolt
from Philadelphia by train, they become stuck
in the small town of Filbert, as railroad communications
have broken down, whereupon they seek help from
one of the nuts, Mrs. Jones (Betty Buckley).
The film's problems
are that given the blandness of the leading two
Moores, the dialogue is bereft of wit. Nor can
the formerly remarkable Zooey Deschanel save the
pic, an actress who is still playing loopy roles
as she did in Miguel Arteta's The Good Girl
but who has lost her former cuteness with advancing
years. There's a lack of any real scares (even
people seen hanged on trees are caught for just
some three seconds by cameraman Tak Fujimoto),
There is not a single surprising revelation: no
dead Bruce Willis as in Shyamalan's great debut
The Sixth Sense, no surprise when some
people find a highway in The Village.
There is no explanation of this plant terrorism,
though the writer-director just might be telling
us that we are paying a price for messing with
Mother Nature, polluting the atmosphere and causing
global warming.
The problem with
turning out a strong debut, whether of a book,
play or movie, is that the public expects more
of the same in the years to come. Given our expectations
of Shyamalan after his exceptional thriller, The
Sixth Sense, where Haley Joel Osment's performance
towers over that of anyone in The Happening,
we stood disappointed with the New-Age nonsense
The Signs, the overly detailed The
Lady in the Water, and now The Happening.
Rated R.
88 minutes. © 2008 by Harvey Karten Member:
NY Film Critics Online
T. Sean Shannon's
Harold
Opens July 11, 2008
Written By: T.
Sean Shannon, Greg Fields
Starring: Spencer
Breslin; Nikki Blonsky; Ally Sheedy; Cuba Gooding,
Jr.; Fred Willard; Chris Parnell; Rachel Dratch;
and Colin Quinn.
City Lights Pictures
Reviewed for New
York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: B
While America is
the land of tolerance, it's not much fun being
different, especially in the 'burbs. Adults may
pretend to notice nothing unusual about people
who are not like them or who do not resemble the
norm, but in high school and junior high, kids
are not afraid to speak their minds. In T. Sean
Shannon's Harold, a 13-year-old kid has
male pattern baldness. Somehow he was able to
fit in quite well in his community until he moved
to another suburb where all hell breaks loose.
All this makes for a quirky, satisfactory, low-budget
comedy, thankfully without a phony sentimental
ending. No, the kid's physical condition is not
diagnosed leaving him with a huge head of hair—not
even of the green variety. While Harold
is no Ferris Bueller's Day Off (it's
much too low-key for that), it deserves a respectable
audience and is targeted to the junior set, while
adults should have no trouble digging the movie
as well.
The title character,
played by 16-year-old Spencer Breslin (The
Happening) and who looks a lot better with
his natural mop of hair than he does after the
producers shaved his head, is the new kid in town.
When his mom, Maureen (Ally Sheedy) gets a job
promotion, moving to a new town with a reluctant
Harold but with his optimistic, pretty sister
Shelly (Stella Maeve), his troubles mount geometrically.
The school bully and his clique play pranks of
the pie-throwing nature, the coach (Chris Parnell)
makes sure Harold is in the middle of a dodge-ball
game, leaving Harold to be pursued mainly by the
family's horny, middle-aged neighbor. Harold is
well-liked, though, by the school janitor, Cromer
(Cuba Gooding Jr.), who becomes an adviser and
father-figure to the boy, and by the overweight
classmate, Rhonda Baxter (Nikki Blonsky—who
starred exquisitely in "Hairspray" not
long ago).
If Harold
follows a predictable trajectory, the side characters
make for particular fun, especially the always
hilarious Fred Willard in the all-too-small role
of Harold's internist. Writer-director T. Sean
Shannon keeps moves the cast at a rapid pace,
all filmed by Christopher Lavasseur in the tony
New York suburb of Great Neck, Long Island.
Rated PG--13.
105 minutes. © 2008 by Harvey Karten Member:
NY Film Critics Online
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.
Rated PG-13. 113
minutes. © 2008 by Harvey Karten Member:
NY Film Critics Online
Louis Leterrier's
The Incredible Hulk
Opens Friday June 13, 2008
Starring: Edward
Norton; Liv Tyler; Tim Roth; and William Hurt.
Reviewed by Adam
Ritter
Help the
Green One
It's been five
years since that angry, just-the-other-side-of-irradiated…"hulk"
last rampaged across movie screens, and not surprisingly,
he's still mad as hell.
The Hulk's
previous movie incarnation, though cleverly
crafted and visually creative, angled for melodrama
as fans were craving excitement. The disappointing
box office seemed to SMASH hopes of an encore,
but give Marvel credit for knowing there's plenty
of green left in this franchise.
While NOT an origin
story or technically a sequel (all the principals
have been replaced with able and eager performers),
this chapter more or less continues the Hulk's
perpetual storyline, unencumbered by details of
the first film.
Doctor Bruce Banner
(Edward Norton) still pines for Betty Ross (Liv
Tyler) and still races to control that raging
spirit dwelling within. Can he find the cure before
the relentless Thunderbolt Ross (William Hurt,
amazing as always) turns his curse into the military's
next super weapon?
This of course,
is the MacGuffin at the heart of all Hulk
stories. What we really want to see is that startling
metamorphosis that occurs when evildoers make
Bruce Banner angry. You see, most people wouldn't
like him when he's angry.
Thank goodness
the brilliant doctor has not found a way to channel
his fury into anything creative, like painting
or writing or as we do at my house, by drinking.
Thus it's pretty
straight forward mythology at play here. Some
World War Hulk action would have been a delicious
twist, but as you might expect, studio law demands
Marvel exhaust all of the traditional material
first.
Fans of the comic
will therefore recognize the Hulk's menacing nemesis,
The Abomination (and allusions to The Leader)
as he tramples across the screen, though audiences'
tolerance for computer generated MMA style fighting
may be pushed to its limit, assuming there is
one.
(Let me digress
to mention that colorful metaphors are the bane
of superhero movie reviews, since many of them
actually seem to reference another comic character;
e.g. Bane, Venom, Rampage, Mammoth, Juggernaut,
Shrinkage…wait, strike the last one.)
Of course the recurring
homage to past Hulk representations will not go
unnoticed here and does not require a degree in
comic geekdom to appreciate.
Although this Hulk
is superior to its moody predecessor, more suspense
certainly would have resulted in greater emotional
payoffs. Bruce Banner never seems to struggle
making the right decision, so the audience is
not asked to invest anything in the outcome.
And even though
special effects have clearly evolved far beyond
green body paint, they are sometimes a heavy-handed
alternative to some much needed humanity.
So while The
Incredible Hulk writes a check his green
ass definitely covers (that is if his fingers
were nimble enough to manipulate a pen), he does
not quite satisfy on the same level as Marvel's
other summer blockbuster Iron Man, whose
success the studio was naturally anxious to exploit.
Was it really necessary
however, to rob fans of EVERY secret by actually
incorporating Hulk's cameos into the trailer?
Coming attractions used to entice, but now we
are pummeled over the head by gamma-dosed ad blitzes.
It would be a surprise
to be surprised in a movie these days.
Perhaps the only
strategy to evade movie spoilers in this super-conducting
information age is media abstinence….A complete
commercial and print ad blackout (and ducking
that Chatty Cathy friend of yours) up until the
moment you set foot in the theater, like that
collision avoidance system we engage after having
TiVo'd the game.
These revelations
not withstanding, if he smashes, you will come;
so Go Green this summer puny humans, otherwise
wait for the stealth of the Knight.
For more information
about The Incredible Hulk, log onto the
website.
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.
Not Rated.
98 minutes. © 2008 by Harvey Karten Member:
NY Film Critics Online
Jon Favreau's
Iron Man
Opens May 2, 2008
Heavy Boots
of Lead
Starring:
Robert Downey Jr.; Gwyneth Paltrow; Terrence Howard;
and Jeff Bridges.
Reviewed by Adam Ritter
It took forty-five years and a cruel succession
of false starts, but Iron Man has made
the inevitable crossover from comic books (and
later cartoons) to the silver screen.
After heavyweights like Cage and Cruise were considered
in the 90's to play the man-who-would-be-Iron,
it was at long last Robert Downey Jr. who nabbed
the role and for that we are grateful.
Mr. Downey is cast perfectly as billionaire genius
inventor Tony Stark, the weapons inventor extraordinaire
who has continued the legacy of his deceased father,
manufacturing magnate Howard Stark.
Tony cleanly dismisses
suggestion of the collateral death toll of his
nefarious masterpieces (cluster bombs with repulsor
technology as a 'for instance') by espousing the
fallacious-but-familiar neocon philosophy that
imagines a safer world thanks to the mutually-assured-destruction
he provides.
Of course, not one to be easily categorized, Stark
counterbalances his conservative side with a compulsive
rock star lifestyle that would be the envy of
any Hollywood jetsetter.
His only genuine
relationships are with faithful assistant Pepper
Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow), buzz-killing Colonel
James "Rhody" Rhodes (Terrence Howard
in a role that might grow substantially in potential
sequels) and Papa Stark's business partner Obadiah
Stane (Jeff Bridges) who has evolved into a mentor
for Tony.
The origin of Iron
Man has been updated from Vietnam to Afghanistan
but the movie is mostly true to the core elements
of the comic.
As is often the case with lecherous cinematic
playboys, circumstances beyond his control cause
Tony to reassess his ideas about the value of
life and the legacy he intends to leave behind.
Unfortunately, although there are surprises in
the movie, it will be difficult to experience
them thanks to a monolithic advance media blitz
that seems to relish in revealing key elements
of the movie to anyone with a cable-connection
or newspaper subscription.
Therefore, readers of most reviews and of course
fans of the pulp Iron Man will recognize
Tony's arch nemesis "Iron Monger" as
he blooms to life throughout the course of the
film. Their confrontation has a familiar Transformers
feel, however the overall experience is not
diminished in spite of this.
This movie does not "quite" reach the
upper echelon of comic book crossovers, which
is certain to include the original Superman,
Batman Begins and possibly Spiderman
2. However, Iron Man unquestionably
flies far higher than most comic incarnations
of past years (Hulk, Fantastic Four,
X-Men, etc...).
We have Robert Downey Jr. to thank for this, for
it is his performance (ironically "without"
the two hundred lbs. of armor), which carries
the most weight in the film.
And as for Tony's alter ego, sleek and sound in
his CGI crucible, it's difficult to imagine a
man encased in iron (though it's actually a gold-titanium
alloy, as Tony points out) looking cooler than
director Jon Favreau's vision of him, breathed
into a brilliant existence here.
There is one substantial
diversion from the comic-origin storyline that
could be an allusion to more recent developments
in Iron Man's "Civil War" life.
You can be the judge of this.
Be sure to stick around until the very end of
the credits for a minute of bonus material that
alludes to an exciting future for Iron Man.
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.
Rated PG. 92 minutes.
© 2008 by Harvey Karten Member: NY Film Critics
Online
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.
Not Rated. 114
minutes. © 2008 by Harvey Karten Member:
NY Film Critics Online
Marco Schnabel's
The Love Guru
Opens June 20, 2008
Written By: Mike
Myers, Graham Gordy
Starring: Mike
Myers; Jessica Alba; Justin Timberlake; Romany
Malco; Verne Troyer; Meagan Good; Manu Narayan;
John Oliver; Stephen Colbert; Jim Gaffigan; and
Ben Kingsley.
Screened at: AMC
Lincoln Square, NYC, 6/17/08
Paramount Pictures/
Spyglass Entertainment
Reviewed forNew
York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: C-
Take a look at
this week's New York Times best sellers and you'll
find titles like The Secret, Quantum
Wellness, Just Who Will You Be?
Letters to a Young Sister, The Power
of Now, and The Five Love Languages.
One would think that by now every bit of advice
to readers would be exhausted. What's new under
the sun? Vulnerable that we are, we gobble up
the latest counsel from Oprah magazine
and sex advice from Cosmopolitan as though
every new issue does more than reinvent the wheel.
Does any of this counseling help? Who knows? Sometimes
what seems to be computer-driven print in these
books and magazines, filled as they are with gobbledegook
like "be here now" is ripe for satire.
That's where German-born director Marco Schnabel
comes in with his debut feature - The Love
Guru, an attempt to parody the self-help
industry.The Love Guru is a spoof not
of gurus in general—contrary to what some
Hindus protesting the movie think—but of
people who set themselves up to be gurus, or teachers,
but who are phonies interested only in women,
fancy cars, and real estate in Monte Carlo, Paris,
and New York.
Now, if it's questionable that self-help books
really assist anyone to master the difficulties
of living, there's no question that The Love
Guru is a dud—maybe not so for audience
members who are easy to please, who think that
summer movies should be exempted from critical
appraisal. The film does not work as satire because
Mike Myers, who is in virtually every frame, laughing
at his own jokes (well, somebody has to laugh
at what passes for humor), knocks out wisecracks
that are persistently redundant, stupid and coarse.
While there's nothing wrong with vulgarity, if
you want to have successful sight gags that are
down-and-dirty, make sure that Judd Apatow is
connected with your production. Clearly Mr. Apatow
is not around.
Mike Myers got
the idea for the movie via his spiritual quest
taken after the loss of his father. He made the
rounds of gurus and ashrams, as though nothing
in Western psychology and philosophy could match
the wisdom of the East, ultimately deciding that
the way to emerge from grief is through comedy.
Too bad he did not inject much of that into his
latest movie.
Flashing back to
his days in a guru school headed by the cross-eyed
Guru Tugginmypuddha (Ben Kingsley—featured
in Gandhi and Schindler's List
but on a roll with roles that are far beneath
him), we see the man who becomes Guru Pitka (Mike
Myers) ascend to second place among American gurus,
bested by Deepak Chopra. Pitka knows that to get
on the Oprah show, his crowning ambition, he must
save the marriage of Toronto Maple Leaf's hockey
star, Darren Roanoke (Romany Malco), who has been
letting the team and its owner, Jane Bullard (Jessica
Alba), down because his wife Prudence Roanoke
(Meagan Good) has split and is dating rival L.A.
Kings' goalie, Jacque "Le Coq" Grande
(Justin Timberlake). That's what serves as plot
in a film that's really a series of Saturday Night
Live sketches that comes across as almost a Mike
Myers vanity project.
The gags, verbal
and sight, are anything but witty unless you're
amused by sophomoric acronyms like Pitka's advice
to Be Loving & Open With My Emotions (get
it?); with bathroom-humor names like Ben Kingsley's
Tugginmypudha, and the name of Pitka Indian fishing
village, Harenmahkeester. The sight yuks including
two elephants coupling in the hockey stadium,
a fight between two aspiring guru teams in India
with mops soaked with urine, and a chastity belt
that Tugginmypuddha attached to twelve-year-old
Pitka which he must wear until he learns to love
himself (like Mike Myers, obviously). The midget
gags feature, of course, Verne Troyer as Toronto
Maple Leaf's Coach Cherkov (get it?), but admittedly
there's a cute scene of Cherkov's office which
is custom made for him and which leads people
of average height to find their heads plunging
through the ceiling.
Stephen Colbert
does some amusing stuff as Jay Kell,one of the
two announcers, who together with his partner
Trent Lueders,(Jim Gaffigan) try with moderate
success to replicate the far better camaraderie
between the broadcasters in Christopher Guest"s
Best in Show. One can say about this
movie is that it's slightly better than Austin
Powers as Goldmember. Movie buffs know
this is damning The Love Guru with faint
praise.
Rated PG-13.
88 minutes. © 2008 by Harvey Karten Member:
NY Film Critics Online
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!
Rated PG-13.
103 minutes. © 2008 by Harvey Karten Member:
NY Film Critics Online.
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.
Jarek Kupsc's
The Reflecting Pool
Opens Friday July 11, 2008 at Pioneer Theater,
NYC
Cast: Jarek Kupsc;
Joseph Culp; Lisa Black; Alex Hyde-White; and
Philippe Denham.
Written By: Jarek Kupsc
Baltazar Works
Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: B
Just when Americans
are at peace over the JFK assassination; i.e.,
no-one is taking up arms against the [Chief Justice]
Warren Commission report that states that the
former President was killed by a lone assassin—along
comes a few individuals who believe that our own
U.S. government was partly responsible for the
attacks on New York's Twin Towers and on the Pentagon.
Writer-director Jarek Kupac, in the role of Russian-born
American journalist Alex Prokop, and producer
Joseph Culp playing the part of Paul Cooper, a
man who lost his daughter on the American Airlines
plane that crashed into the World Trade Center
on September 11, 2002, form their own little conspiracy.
Their aim is to suggest (without marshalling enough
evidence to convince a jury or even necessarily
their film audience) that the CIA, the FBI, NORAD,
and high-level figures in the administration,
were largely at fault for not preventing the attacks
that killed 3,000 people. In a sense, their beliefs
are akin to those who still believe that President
Franklin D. Roosevelt knew—and even provoked—the
Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in order to get
the U.S. out of a long economic Depression. Presumably,
high-level administrators were looking for an
excuse in 2002 to get to war against particular
nations in the Middle East, taking aim against
Al Queda, the Taliban, Saddam Hussein, and (though
the performers do not come right out with it)
to ensure the unobstructed flow of oil into our
country.
While the acting
is heavy-handed at times, particularly seen when
Jack Mahoney (Alex Hyde-White), a conservative
TV commentator perhaps modeled after Rush Limbaugh,
trashes Alex Prokop for his left-wing report,
Paul Cooper, for heading a class action lawsuit
against specific members of the administration,
and Lisa Georgia McGuire (Lisa Black) for publishing
an article purportedly exposing the government
for a massive cover-up.
Discussing the
"perfect" symmetrical collapse of the
Twin Towers and Building 7, they take aim on that
last edifice. A firefighter relates his eyewitness
memories of that building's collapse even though
there was "no fireball" from on high
but rather some explosions on the floor below.
Whether by coincidence or design, the Port Authority
had shut off the power in the buildings for several
days before the attack, thereby knocking out security
camrers, while the scrap metal, which could potentially
be used as evidence, was allegedly sold to China
for use in—who knows? Coca-Cola cans? Larry
Silverstein, owner of the buildings, received
a fortune in insurance money as it was determined
that the two towers' destruction was the product
of two separate terrorist attacks. In addition,
no one except a handful of government officials
saw the Pentagon tapes, the man who piloted a
plane expertly into just the right corner of the
Pentagon building was reportedly a poor pilot
who "would not be trusted flying a kite."
As a Russian-born
American, journalist Prokop cites the Katyn forest
massacre in which Soviet troops at the start of
World War 2 murdered scores of Polish officers,
blaming the assassinations on the Germans: the
truth came out only fifty years later with the
downfall of Communism. He's not surprised, therefore,
that the U.S. will continue to withhold evidence
that the government agencies were aware of an
imminent attack and did nothing to stop it. Notably,
Air Force planes in a field near the Pentagon
could have taken off immediately on hearing about
the Twin Towers' demise with the aim of stopping
the terrorists from plowing into the Pentagon.
I for one am not
convinced by this evidence, perhaps because the
acting is so heavy-handed or because we do not
actually see copies of testimony from eyewitnesses.
The way government officials like a major at the
Pentagon walk away in a huff is overly melodramatic.
Then again this is a docu-drama, not a straight
documentary—a genre that does usually do
a better job at creating excitement than a talking-heads
film. Whether you believe or not, clearly, The
Reflecting Pool is worth reflection.
Not Rated.
105 minutes. © 2008 by Harvey Karten Member:
NY Film Critics Online
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.
Rated R.
100 minutes. © Harvey Karten Member, New
York Film Critics Online
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.
Rated PG-13. 119
minutes. © 2008 by Harvey Karten Member:
NY Film Critics Online
Charles Oliver's
Take
Open Friday July 18, 2008
Written By: Charles Oliver
Starring: Minnie Driver; Jeremy Renner; Bobby
Coleman; Adam Rodriguez; David Denman; and Emily
Harrison.
Crux Entertainment
Reviewed for New York Cool by Harvey Karten
Grade: B
Take is
part gangster story, part sociological study of
two individuals from the unskilled working class,
and part propaganda piece for a theory called
Restorative Justice. It's also the sort of film
that an ambitious editor must love, given the
number of flashbacks and fast-forwards, a device
that seems to be coming quite popular by directors
who must think that straight narratives are uncool.
Despite the dizzy and sometimes confusing use
of that technique, some top acting by Minnie Driver
and Jeremy Renner gives Take an identity
that sets it apart from the typical tale of crime,
revenge, punishment and redemption.
Directed by freshman
Charles Oliver, a former marketing consultant
who changed careers to devote full time to writing,
Take centers on two people leading hardscrabble
lives. One, Ana Nichols (Minnie Driver), has shifted
from maid service in a motel to applying for a
job in a factory to putting in for supermarket
employment. She has a tense marriage with her
husband, Marty (David Denman), a teacher who seems
unable to relate to Ana or to their eight-year-old,
hyperactive boy, Jesse (Bobby Coleman). The other
principal charater, Saul Gregor (Jeremy Renner),
works for a failing mini-storage company and engages
in petty thievery by selling some goods that are
stored there until he gets fired. Since Saul owes
$2,000 to the mob, which is now demanding almost
immediately payment, he robs a supermarket, kidnapping
Jesse who is there with his mom and who winds
up dead. Apprehended and sentenced to death, Saul
awaits a visit on his final day from the victim's
mother, who had previously prayed that the killer
suffer every day of his life but is now considering
a change of heart.
The production
notes indicate that director Oliver is fascinated
by the idea of strangers, about how we make judgments
of people by watching them for seconds, observing
their clothes, their carriage, their expressions.
In the case of this film, two strangers living
day-by-day in dead-end, low paying jobs, meeting
ominously to take part in an event that would
affect them for the rest of their lives.
Ana and Saul are
two characters facing hardships not unlike those
impinging on many of us, their lack of education
causing them to be beaten down by society. For
her part Ana cannot fight a decision by her son's
school principal (Francesca P. Roberts) to push
the child out of his regular elementary school
into a special education program in another institution,
a fate that would presumably have a serious, negative
impact on young Jesse. Since Ana has no money,
she cannot opt for a private school that might
solve the problems of a hyperactive child. For
his part, Saul appears unable to imagine himself
living the good life in America, bogged down by
gambling debts and unable legitimately to raise
even the $2,000 that many more fortunate people
would consider pocket change.
Ultimately, though
we've seen stories like this before, director
Oliver's visual and editing styles create enough
novelty to evoke audience attention. Ms. Driver
manages an American accent flawlessly, while Mr.
Renner, best known for his title role in the movie
Dahmer —about a man who turned
his perverted fantasies in horrible reality—portrays
someone sentenced to death for a crime he had
no intention of committing. Mr. Oliver would like
viewers to look further into Restorative Justice
http://restorativejustice.org,
which considers crime to be an act of wrongdoing
against an individual rather than the state, and
seeks to correct perpetrators by engaging them
with their victims—who may find it in their
hearts to forgive.
Not Rated. 99 minutes.
© 2008 by Harvey Karten Member: NY Film Critics
Online
Helen Hunt and Colin Firth
in
Then She Found Me
Helen
Hunt's
Then She Found Me
Opens Friday May 9th
Starring: Helen Hunt; Colin Firth; Bette Midler;
and Matthew Broderick.
Reviewed by Alejandra
Serret
Helen Hunt makes
her directorial debut this month with Then
She Found Me, a beautifully made film on
the intricacies of relationships, adapted from
the book of the same title. Hunt also stars in
the film, alongside Colin Firth, Bette Midler,
and Matthew Broderick. She plays April Epner,
a forty-something elementary school teacher who
longs for a child but is on the brink of divorce
from her husband and colleague, Ben (played by
Matthew Broderick). The film opens with their
wedding day—a quaint celebration peppered
with wonderful sarcasm (mostly from April’s
adoptive mother Trudy, deftly played by Lynn Cohen).
As quickly as the
film opens to an optimistic setting, it goes sour
for April Epner: Ben leaves her, her adoptive
mother passes away, and her birth mother seeks
her out. In the midst of this chaos, she meets
Frank Harte (Colin Firth), the single parent,
of one of her students. The easygoing, romantic
and lovely bond that they form becomes challenged
by April’s desire to be a mother, her convoluted
relationship with her husband/ex husband, her
reunion with her birth mother Bernice Graves (Bette
Midler), and Frank’s distrust of women.
Then
She Found Me tells the convoluted and often
beautiful story of relationships. It explores
the intricacies of varying types—how two
people connect, how they fall in and out of love,
whether between siblings, parents and their children,
or spouses. Hunt keeps the film simple as the
director—she keeps it honest. It is the
perfect juxtaposition to the complicated story
line. There is a very organic feeling to the film—as
though watching friends or family muscle their
way through life and the obstacles that complicate
and enrich it. Hunt took part in every aspect
of this film. She wrote the beautiful script along
with Alice Arlen and Victor Levin. Then She
Found Me is a smart, funny film—a true
gem.
Peter Askin's
Trumbo
Opens Friday, June 27, 2008
Starring: Joan
Allen; Brian Dennehy; Michael Douglas; Paul Giamatti;
Nathan Lane; Josh Lucas; Liam Neeson; David Strathairn;
and Donald Sutherland. With interviews with Kirk
Douglas and Dustin Hoffman.
Reviewed by Wendy R. Williams
Periodically
our nation goes out on a collective bender. Something
happens and we get scared and some "strong"
man exploits our fear and we go mad and do abominable
things like: President Franklin Roosevelt fanning
the fear of the "yellow peril" by incarcerating
United States citizens of Japanese origin during
World War II; or (in the fifties) Senator Joseph
McCarthy exploiting our fears by telling us that
there was a Communist under every bed and then
holding Congressional hearings to find them; or
more recently, President George W. Bush exploiting
our fear of Al Queda with a regime of torture
and secret prisons. And after everything is over,
we wonder - how could that have happened? What
made a nation that was founded with such extraordinary
ideas about the rights of man (and woman too,
we hope) stoop to such a despicable level. And
our children read about the "bender"
in their neatly synopsized history books and think,
"Oh, that was the past; it will never happen
again." Hmm.
Playwright
Christopher Trumbo had such a "national bender"
story to tell - it was about his father, the writer
Dalton Trumbo, and what happened to him in the
fifties when he was ostracized by Hollywood for
refusing to tell the House Un-American Activities
Committee whether he had ever been a Communist
and most importantly for refusing to "name
names" by telling the Committee who was also
a Communist. The supposed motivation of the HUAC
was to weed out Communist sympathizers from Hollywood
so they could not subtly twist our national psyche
by their "left leaning" words. The motivation
of the Hollywood establishment was appeasement.
Christopher
wrote a play about his father's life, Trumbo,
which played off Broadway from 2003-2004. The
play told the story of Trumbo's life through Trumbo's
letters, long wonderful letters in which Trumbo
told his friends and business acquaintances the
"diary" of his life. And the play (with
its letters) has now been turned in a documentary-style
film.
Here is a
quote from the press release for the film. "Dalton
Trumbo was one of Hollywood’s highest paid
screenwriters in the 1940s, penning films such
as Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo and Kitty
Foyle (for which he received an Academy Award
nomination). In 1947 he was called before the
notorious House Un-American Activities Committee
(HUAC) and, after defiantly refusing to discuss
his political affiliations, was thrown into prison
as one of the infamous “Hollywood Ten.”
Upon his release in 1950, he moved with his family
to Mexico, where he continued to write screenplays
– including Roman Holiday and The
Brave One – under various pseudonyms.
When his script for the latter won an Academy
Award for Best Story, the Oscar went suggestively
unclaimed. Finally, in 1960, he was given full
screen credit for his work on Exodus
and Spartacus, thereby ending his professional
exile."
The film
tells the story of what Dalton and the other members
of the Hollywood Ten did, how they refused to
state whether they had ever been member of the
Communist Party and how they also refused to give
the names of other members of the Communist Party
(many had flirted with Communism in the 30's when
Russia was our ally against the Nazis, but gave
up their memberships after World War II). And
for refusing to testify, they were ostracized
and their children were ostracized. And this ostracizing
went on for almost ten years. For after Dalton
Trumbo was released from prison, his real punishment
was imposed by the Hollywood establishment, who
refused to let him work under his own name until
finally in the early sixties, Otto Preminger insisted
on hiring him and giving him screen writing credit
for Exodus. Kirk Douglas also insisted
on hiring him for the film, Spartacus,
which has the famous scene where the slaves are
told that their lives will be spared if they produce
the slave called Spartacus and rather than "name
names," they all stand up and proudly declare,
"I am Spartacus."
The film
tells a serious story, but it is also fun because
Trumbo's letters were fun, outrageous and passionate.
And the actors do them justice; Joan Allen, Brian
Dennehy, Paul Giamatti, Josh Lucas, Liam Neeson,
David Strathairn, and Donald Sutherland bring
Dalton to life through his own words - his letters.
And newly minted dirty-man-around-town Nathan
Lane (see Lane's foul-mouthed turn in David Mamet's
November)
brings down the "movie house" when he
reads a letter Trumbo wrote to his son about the
joys of masturbation.
Our 1950's
Hollywood 10 bender was a bender about the fear
of words, and this fear of words was exploited
by Senator Joseph McCarthy and his House Un-American
Activities Committee. And these were and are our
words, words that are protected by our own Constitution
in our own First Amendment: "Congress shall
make no law respecting an establishment of religion,
or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging
the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the
right of the people peaceably to assemble, and
to petition the Government for a redress of grievances."
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.
Rated R. 93 minutes. ©
2008 by Harvey Karten Member: NY Film Critics Online
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.
Dennis Dugan's
You Don't Mess With the Zohan
Opens June 6, 2008
Written By: Adam Sandler; Judd
Apatow; and Robert Smigel.
Starring: Adam Sandler; Rob Schneider;
Emmanuelle Chriqui; Nick Swardson; John Turturro;
Mariah Carey; Henry Winkler; Talia Shire; Sayed
Badreya; Lainie Kazan; Shelley Berman; Alexander
R. Luria; Alec Mapa; and Danny Abeckaser.
Columbia Pictures
Reviewed for New York Cool by
Harvey Karten
Grade: B
When you knock out a movie as
crude and vulgar as You Don't Mess with the
Zohan, you'd better have an A-1 entertainer
in the leading role. Not a problem. Adam Sandler,
perfect for the role and perhaps one of our country's
top five comic actors, sheds the nebbish/mentally-disturbed
demeanor he was saddled with as borderline psychotic
Charlie Fineman in Reign Over Men and bench-warming
nerd Bobby Boucher Jr. in Waterboy to emerge
as a combination Spiderman and Israeli James Bond,
helped quite a bit by Judd Apatow's writing talent
(you'll guess which scenes came from his pen) and
from Adam Sandler's fertile imagination. Directed
by Dennis Dugan as though the helmer told the crew
to take off in all zany directions and stepped aside,
Zohan goes for the belly laughs while squeezing
in sentiment in both a romantic attachment of the
superhero and a political fantasy: "See, Arabs
and Israelis can all get along in the same neighborhood
as long as they're thousands of miles away from
the Middle East."
The forty-one year old Brooklyn-born
Sandler plays an expert Israeli commando, one who
can catch his enemies' bullets in his nose, cut
enemy machine guns to pieces with some karate chops,
catch rocks thrown at him by children, using them
to sculpt little animals to the delight of the tikes.
What's more he can leap tall buildings in a single
bound, crash through glass windows without suffering
from as much as a shard, and douse major fires using
the spicy Arabic dip known as hummus instead of
water. As an unlikely hairdresser in a New York
City salon, he draws older women by the scores not
only by the "silky smooth" styles he creates
for them, but more important by the joys he offers
them in the back room after creating each coiffure.
Zohan Dviri (Adam Sandler) has
apparently spent the first half of his life in Israel,
praised for his incomparable performances as an
invincible commando. Fed up with endless fighting,
he dreams of becoming a hair stylist in the U.S.
When apparently killed by an Arab fighter, Phantom
(John Turturro) in the waters bordering a Tel Aviv
beach, he fakes his death, smuggles himself aboard
a New York bound plane by hiding inside a dog kennel,
talks Dalia (Emmanuelle Chriqui) the owner of a
salon, into letting him style women's hair, and
sets up residence in the home of Michael (Nick Swardson)
and Michael's horny mom, Gail (Lainie Kazan). Processing
women of a certain age in more ways than one, he
becomes as popular as Warren Beatty's George Roundy
in Hal Ashby's Shampoo, but his joy is
marred, as he is sought not only by Salim (Bob Schneider),
a Palestinian cabdriver in New York whose goat he
stole back in Israel, and Phantom, who has flown
to the Big Apple to finish the job he thought he
accomplished in Tel Aviv.
Zohan has everything
but the kitchen sink, including a plot by a corporate
bigwig to set Palestinians and Israelis against
one another in order to take over their small stores
and develop a neighborhood-busting mall. Production
notes state that several Arab Americans who were
hired by the studio were quite reluctant to participate
in a film with actual Israelis, and no wonder: in
the best line of the picture, a humiliating one
to be sure, the Israeli-Americans try to convince
the Arab-Americans with whom they share their neighborhood
that "We have a hard time here: people dislike
us too." "Why so?" counters the Arab.
"Because we look like you," responds the
Israeli.
You don't have to be a fan of
Happy Madison's Adam Sandler to go for the movie.
It's enough that you like the sort of tasteless
humor associated with Judd Apatow, whose hand was
in Knocked Up, Superbad and Walk
Hard: The Dewey Cox Story. Adam Sandler's Israeli
accent is on the heavy side, making some of his
dialogue difficult to understand, but who cares?
If a scattering of nudity, a number of tasteless
jokes, a few ethnic, lifestyle and ageist stereotypes
are your thing, you've come to the right place.
Rated PG-13. 114 minutes.
© 2008 by Harvey Karten Member: NY Film Critics
Online
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