Archive for September, 2007

The Game Plan

Following the same sulfur-smoked path blazed by (former) greats such as Vin Diesel, Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson marches his career boldly into oblivion by signing on the dotted line with the action star’s Great Satan . . . Disney.

This time Dark Lord Disney stages an unholy trinity of travesty by insulting the intelligence of the movie-going public with kitschy banter, offending the sensibilities of the entire sporting world by intoning that an athlete is incapable of balancing a family and a competitive entertainment profession, and decimating the career of a headlining superstar in the name of comedy.

Again, the descendants running Walt’s wicked whimsy machine seduce and derail a promising talent with dollar signs.

Bad, bad Disney. Poor, poor Dwayne.

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Lust, Caution

Ang Lee - how dare you so brazenly bring a quality story from the East to an unwitting Western audience! Subtle human interactions? Emotive non-verbal passages of (gasp) acting? Where are the dramatic explosions? Where are the multi-billion-dollar pixelated feats of geek-tastic grandeur? And who are these actors? Where’s Tom Cruise? Where’s Cameron Diaz?

What’s that? You actually want us to concentrate on a quality story? With all due respect, sir, you do realize the hemisphere in which you’ve landed, don’t you? Just whom do you think you are, Mr Lee?

(end sarcasm here)

Set in a convincing WWII Shanghai, this not-so-subtle conspiratorial love story centers around a young woman drawn into the Chinese resistance and trained for a single mission - gain the affections of a high-ranking official and kill him. In the course of baiting her prey - using every soft, surreptitious curve and coy, furtive fancy at her disposal - the protagonist gains an honest affection both for and from her target, and therein will lie the tension . . . to murder or not to murder her lover.

The trailer promises to deliver on the NC-17 rating, though in conjunction with the stark realism of the presentation, the alluded content hardly seems gratuitous. The culture and atmosphere of the era play convincingly on screen, the cinematography is smooth, and the acting solid. So solid in fact, the characters are engaging, substantial, and laden with intrigue in spite of the lack of dialogue in the trailer. That’s right . . . it’s another film you’ll have to read . . . but it’s worth it.

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The Kingdom

 

Welcome to Hollyweird’s not-so-new cash cow . . . the mid-east war movie. In this iteration of entertainment exploiting an American tragedy in the name of good ol’ capitalism (because they don’t call it ‘The Industry’ for nothing), a misfit cast interprets an unlikely script to manipulate your heart rate, heart strings, and hard earned cash.

The most featured foible of this film is the cast. Apparently the director was on vacation during the solicitation process, and in his absence, the PA responsible for making calls learned that every serious, A-list contender for a headlining role was taking a hash break in Amsterdam, meditating with aliens, or filming a feature that didn’t exploit a travesty of US military politics. He then began selecting actors by walking through Wal-Mart and randomly aiming a laser pointer at the second feature of those DVD 2-paks that contain one movie you want but can’t find paired with a movie no sane person would ever purchase.

This is hardly the fault of the actors. Jamie Foxx certainly proved he had acting chops in ‘Ray’, but here he’s filling a role that was obviously written for Denzel. Jennifer Garner, though she admittedly looks great

in red leather


or a business suit,

simply isn’t an action flick chick if the box office take on ‘Elektra’ is any indication. Jermey Piven was a riot in ‘PCU’ and plays a spectacularly squirrelly fellow in ‘Entourage’, but as a US diplomat surrounded by armed men and Saudi royalty in a war-torn territory, we’re waiting for a joke that never comes, aside from the inherent incongruency of Piven in such a role. The cast isn’t incompetent, it just doesn’t fit the film.

That aside, the sparse story of US forces in a scenario of skepticism eventually earning the trust of the royal family amidst tragedy has been done to death. Yes, there will be the requisite excess of explosions and exaggerations of news footage with which we’ve been bombarded since 9/11 became marketable . . . Yes, there will be the small flares of tension due to cultural misunderstanding and misinterpretation . . . And yes, there will be the customary child’s life in danger, the pseudo-shocking allusions of abuse, the obligatory bond that develops between child and US representative, as well as the development of a relationship between the loving father and the US forces present to help . . . and yes, you’ll love this film . . . IF you’re into exploitative farcical fabrication.

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The Last Winter

Putting a unique spin on a tired genre, ‘The Last Winter’ may be this fall’s best hope for a solid horror flick . . . if it can truly be considered a horror film rather than a suspense thriller - though if we call that into question, we might also ask if it’s truly an independent feature given the size of the budget, the number of career cast members, and the fact that it’s backed by a major independent studio (is that an oxymoron or what?) - but I digress, so let’s not split hairs. Perhaps we’ll discuss the politics of ‘True Indie Film’ and ‘Hollyweird Indie’ at some later point. That said . . .

Using environment and natural circumstance as the basis for the chills (pun intended, and yes, it’s a bad one), the unpretentious tension of the film is evident even in the less-than-two minute trailer. Furthermore, unlike many of its ‘horror’ counterparts of late, the fear in this film is tangible because of its clever concoction of probability and uncertainty. Are the spooks a manifestation of isolation psychology resulting from the research team’s long exile in the remote Alaskan tundra, or is there some supernatural force working upon the group? Given the mystical history of the natives and/or the scientific facts of human psychological reaction to existence in such a scenario, either could be true.

Even without the spatter-encrusted special effects of films like Rob Zombie’s ‘Halloween’ revisitation, this film has potential as an honest heart rate accellerant, with a side of blood chilling (yes, there’s that bad pun again) introspective analysis on the human psyche.

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The Jane Austen Book Club

In a remarkably innovative attempt to make film feel educational (without going the way of Al Bore and Leo DeCapitato), Sony presents (brace yourself) a movie about a book based on fictitious people in a fictitious book club applying fictitious literature to life. Note that the movie is not actually about the literature, but rather about the group of people who read the literature according to the book upon which the film is based. Sure, it has the trappings of being a smart film, and it might even make you feel good about yourself for having watched a movie about a book about people who read books, but don’t be fooled. It’s still just a Hollyweird fluff film about women trying to find themselves and find love amidst the tangle of relationships and sex while bitching about their friends, crying in their pajamas, eating ice cream - and of course, referencing the books that seemingly excuse their behavior.

Is it a great cast? Yes. Do they deliver great performances? Most likely. Does the subject matter deliver the illusion of intelligent art? Indeed it does. Nonetheless, it is what it is . . . an elaborate chick flick masquerading as clever entertainment.

Also of note is the WWJD variant featured in the trailer, ‘What Would
Jane Do?’. In the case of this film, a more appropriate expansion of
the acronym would likely be ‘Whiny Women Journaling Depression’.

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Resident Evil: Extinction

If ever there was to be a video game adapted to film that deserved to be taken seriously, if ever there was cinematic credibility to be displayed from among the story writers of rivalry ridden, sofa-surfing, controller-clicking, carpel-tunnel-induced, seizure-siphoning, ADD-addled, energy-drink-guzzling techno-gerbils, ‘Resident Evil: Extinction’ certainly isn’t it.

The most obvious travesty is the eradication of Alice’s (Milla Jovovich) sex appeal - stripped completely away by conveniently concealing her complexion beneath a swatch of sand and silt, then festooning her figure with a wardrobe that makes a military-issue duffel bag full of steel wool seem the more likely recipient of any pubescent male’s stickiest adorations. (Maybe gamers prefer bedraggled, shapeless sandbags as sexual objects rather than shapely starlets. Or maybe they’re desensitized by their inability to reach around their own ponderous bellies to service the inherent frustration an actual non-digitized stimuli might incite.)

Gone also is the fresh originality of the storyline. For a horror-based console concept, Resident Evil was arguably among the first to have a viable, semi-immersive story beyond the back-of-the-box description that was necessary to sustain the hours of killing countless digital nimrodic opponents in various displays of programmers’ graphic designing prowess so that a player might care enough to complete the game and give the elitist-cyber-geeks their jollies with an orgasmically explosive pixel-animated climax. Even considering the accomplishment and depth inherent in this variety of entertainment, the films are a sour disappointment and do terrible disservice to the gamemakers’ establishment.

Nonplussed by the rapist-genericism of the first two films, Hollyweird saw fit to rehash the fractal script concept for the franchise finale, hastily pasting together (from short cinematic platform-based concepts that were never designed for the silver screen shindig) the same weak plot twists, the same graphics, the same zombie scares, the same self-righteous and self-effacing babble that passes for dialogue. This time we are granted a new location (the desert - and in daylight - because that hasn’t been done) with a new infected animal of menace (crows - because avian threats are so breathlessly original) augmented with a few token flashbacks to familiar locales where Alice does get to play pretty again in her red dress for a minute or two before we find out she’s a clone. But then maybe that’s what the tech-junkies want anyway . . . engineered sex clones that kick ass in a dress and can reach the anatomy they can’t themselves with one hand in the Fritos bag and the other tapping out combo-attacks on their controllers.

In the end, bridging the gap between minute-long animations of a 30-hour puzzle-solving gore-fest for the sake of a paycheck simply doesn’t cut it on the big screen - again.

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The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford

Legends of violence, criminal masterminds, murderers, outlaws, psychopaths, and maniacal sociological predators - first told as stories, later written in books, and now presented on celluloid - hold a fascination for humanity, most likely due to the dichotomy of the perpetrators’ relationship to the general population.  They walk, talk, and carry the outward appearance of men and women we know, yet their minds and behaviors translate as devoid of human emotion, compassion, morality, or logic.  These are a race of people who have escaped the confines of civility - or who have learned to construct their own freedom from within the appearance of those boundaries.  Most often the stories focus upon the crimes and aberrations themselves . . . but not this film.

‘The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford’ intones the life of Jesse James as a man . . . a father and a friend, an intelligent, rational being with personality, emotion, and purpose - though still in the context of the planning of his next crime.  Nonetheless, the deviant is found not in James’ behavior, but in his companion, the character of Robert Ford, a young man obsessed more with the legend of James than James as a man . . . obsessed to the point that while his actions would traditionally classify him a hero, his motivations reveal him to be less conscionable than James himself.

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Eastern Promises

Organized crime in Eastern countries holds twice the fascination of that found in Western culture due to the lack of intelligence possessed by the Western world with regard to even the most basic functions of life and government on other shores.  This is true even moreso when considering former adversaries known for their secrets in political and personal arenas.

Naomi Watts steps out to tell the tale of an American midwife who handles the birth of a Russian child which results in the death of the fourteen-year-old mother and finds herself, through a series of innocuous events, involved with the Russian mafia.  Mysterious circumstances somehow connect the birth of this child with a dead body - covered in tattoos obviously from a Russian prison - found on the beach.  A suspiciously amicable relationship develops with the character played by Viggo Mortensen - one which could likely prove fatal or beneficial at any given moment.  The trailer promises depth, tension, and unfamiliar storytelling - and in this case that’s a good thing.

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The Brave One

Miss Foster, your inconsistencies are showing.  We first noticed them when your accent continually morphed during ‘Silence of the Lambs’.  Sure, we were a bit less educated as a movie-going public in the early 80’s, but still we noticed.  However, it’s a more principled question that arises as we see the release of ‘The Brave One’.  It was conflictingly reported that you turned down the reprisal of the Starling role in the film ‘Hannibal’ either because you did not like the ending as written and felt it untrue to the character (certainly a fair explanation given that actors inherently know better the behavior of their characters than the writers who create them), or possibly because you no longer wanted to be associated with such films.  We would have to assume the former to be true for the sake of integrity, given that starring in a vengeance-killing film such as this one is hardly wholesome entertainment fair.

That said, The Brave One certainly promises to deliver on the dramatic and personal fulfillment fronts, and Miss Foster’s performance looks to be genuine in spite of being familiar.  The trailer itself evokes a decidedly emotional response and leaves plenty of room for character development given the small cast and simple plot concept.  We likely won’t remember it in ten years as anything other than ‘Hey, what was that film Jodie Foster was in where she killed a guy to get her dog back?’, and there won’t be accolades from the academy, but it’s as solid a piece of celluloid as Hollyweird has rolled out in three months or better, and is hopefully an indication that fall will quickly drop the fluff of the blockbuster season and produce some films worth watching.

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Oops . . . Uh-Oh . . . and Other Such Exclamation

My apologies for missed postings last week. I’d written several reviews in advance and (so I thought) post-dated them to pop up each day of last week.

As wth all best-laid plans . . . that idea was SNAFU’d as I obviously made an error in the post-dating process.

My apologies to the small group of readers I’ve accumulated. I’ll be back on track this week.

And since I’ve taken this moment for rare first-person diatribe, I’d be interested in getting some feedback on how you’re enjoying this blog. I’m still experimenting with tone and voice, so if you have suggestions for trailers you’d like to see reviewed, or could take a minute to say ‘I like the way you reviewed such-and-such trailer’, I’d appreciate that.

Have a great weekend. More reviews will commence tomorrow.

-Rocketman





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