Movie Review

(In theaters, October 2008) Spike Lee knows how to shoot a movie, but since Miracle At St. Anna hits the two-and-a-half-hours mark, I’m not sure he knows how to edit one. It’s a shame, really, because it would have been interesting to watch a movie about the all-black Buffalo Soldiers regiment and their experience in the Italian front of World War Two. We get some of that early on, but then the film loses itself in mystical drama about young boys and partisan politics. The film grinds to a half, occasionally mugs for seriously misguided laughs, and wears everyone’s patience thin before an ending that get more and more irritating. The real miracle here is that anyone will stay awake until the end: Lee’s direction seems to have lost all of the snappiness on display in Inside Man, and his racial message gets less and less effective as he multiplies his cartoonish antagonists. What a waste of resources; I suspect that the length of the film is directly related to the involvement of the original novel’s writer in the screen-writing process.

(In theaters, October 2008) The irony is that this film based on a game largely inspired by John Woo movies never feels a tenth as interesting as John Woo movies themselves. Aside from a fairly dull shootout in an office made of glass partition and a ridiculous shotgun blast in a factory, the game’s celebrated “bullet time” (itself borrowed from another pretty good movie) scarcely makes an appearance. But if you were hoping for a compelling plot to fill in the blanks left by underwhelming action, forget about it: What we get is by-the-numbers revenge plotting, with scenes that sound familiar and dialogue that never sticks in mind. It’s a pretty sad film, really, and the occasional visual flourishes aren’t enough to make it better than it is. Game-to-movie adaptations usually have a terrible record, and this one will only fuel that particular axiom.

(In theaters, October 2008) I’m generally not fond of comedies of humiliation, nor of its darker thrillers of exasperation. And this story pushes several of my annoyance buttons: cheap interracial tensions, cartoonish neighbors from hell, obvious dramatic arc and a director with a history for uncomfortable films. So I was surprised to find out that Lakeview Terrace wasn’t quite as grating as I thought: While the well-worn plot holds little surprise as soon as the first five minutes are over (neighborhood tension, escalating all the way to… well, you know), the last act of the film has a few manipulative surprises in store, and Samuel L. Jackson’s antagonist remains as compelling as despicable. It’s too bad that the protagonist is written as a nebbish decent guy: it’s tough to identify with his passivity or his easily-avoidable bad moves. Thriller fans will find a further point of interest in noticing how Jackson’s character, a perfect action protagonist in other contexts, is here portrayed as a man incapable of living in civilized society: now that’s some meta-contextual grist for action cinema critics. As for Lakeview Terrace itself, it’s unnerving, not as surprising as it could have been, but basically a competent thriller if you can make it through an hour of predictable rising tension.

(In theaters, October 2008) It’s rather telling that a technothriller like this one can slip so easily in the realm of Science Fiction using nothing more than a voice on the phone and some impeccable timing. It’s too bad that the nature of the antagonist will be obvious to even the dullest viewers, or that Eagle Eye never hesitate to indulge into easy clichés, but even those are small problems compared to the film’s inconsistent interest and forward pacing. For every dynamite sequence in the film (such as the escape-by-crane, the naval yard ballet or the Predator Drone chase), the script allows itself a few underwhelming moments that make little sense and rob the film of its impact. There is a lot of interesting material in the film’s justification, where automated systems take it upon themselves to respect a constitution ignored by its human masters, but all of it leads to yet another iteration of the old “sparking computers, last-minute rescues” clichés. It’s a curious grab-bag of contradicting impulses, and it’s perhaps more interesting to discuss than to watch.

(On DVD, October 2008) As sugary-sweet as it is lazily put-together, this unabashedly romantic fable is mistaken in thinking that the simple mechanics of a feel-good film can somehow compensate for contrived plot mechanics. The setup of the story clearly announces what’s in store, as a fleeing relationship between a classical musician and an Irish rocker result in a kid whose existence is wiped clean by a overbearing grandfather. A decade later, all members of this separate family start looking for each other even as the child has become a musical prodigy whose music will be performed in Central Park, but only if he can avoid the clutches of a mysterious ragamuffin impresario. (Hey, I told you it was contrived.) The complications are as artificial as the way the story is resolved, with happenstance and chance glances. I admit that being overly critical of this film is like kicking an adorable puppy, but the alternative is encouraging films that are just as indifferently put together. Despite the film’s interest in music as a transcending, perhaps supernatural force, there’s little of that magic at play in the film. It ends abruptly, almost as if it realizes how ashamed it should be of itself. The DVD contains several deleted scenes that merely prolong the agony.

(In theaters, September 2008) Fans have been waiting for a true DeNiro/Pacino match-up since their all-too-brief common scene in Heat, but it’s not a B-series vehicle like Righteous Kill that will satisfy them. Not that any film starring those two is any guarantee of quality these days, as the two men seem perfectly happy on playing their own caricature. Pacino’s always good for a hoo-ha moment or two, but DeNiro’s sliding fast toward irrelevance, and this film won’t do much to change prevailing wisdom. But never mind the creepy Gugino/DeNiro on-screen pairing: the worst thing about this film is from the script: It’s the blatant lying that frames the picture that gets old real fast, as the film withhold just enough details to make it obvious that we’re not watching the entire story, leading to a painfully predictable conclusion and a far too long third act that can’t resist exploiting a female character’s vulnerability for no good reason. What’s really annoying is that Righteous Kill does have a few good ideas rattling around: the material about how “everyone respects the badge” offers a grittier view of men in uniform than most police thrillers, but what could have been a really fascinating theme in a stronger picture seems wasted in a routine potboiler. Much like the lead actors, Righteous Kill is a pale shadow of what could have been.

(On DVD, September 2008) It’s impossible to watch this film today without thinking about its reputation as “the worst movie ever made”, or its place in Tim Burton’s Ed Wood (1994). So it may not be so surprising that the film is surprisingly engaging, even with its numerous production errors, stilted dialog, incoherent plot and campy acting: for a number of reasons, it remains compelling. For all of Ed Wood’s ineptness as a writer and director, some aspects of the film are unexpectedly solid: the dramatic construction of the scenes, for instance, has all of the right elements arranged in more or less the right order, albeit torpedoed by the terrible dialog, stiff acting and lousy production values. The earnestness factor also plays a role: despite the film’s laughable execution, there’s always a residual feeling that a lot of it is intended to be taken seriously, and indeed some much-cited passages, such as the “Stupid! Stupid!” speech, betray an inner core of sentiment that wouldn’t be out-of-place in more successful works. It’s a far cry from the “so bad it’s good” hype. All in all, an essential piece of movie history: don’t miss it, but try to see it with a crowd.

(In theaters, September 2008) Is it too much to ask that animated comedies for kids be at least pleasant to look at? Igor‘s art design is among the ugliest I’ve seen on-screen, and even a vague intention to replicate the counter-cultural charm of Tim Burton’s most successful films aren’t nearly enough to make this film a more pleasant experience. As a gothic romance between a hunchback and a patched-up Frankenwoman, Igor remains hampered by its kiddy-friendly PG rating, terrible screenwriting and the previously-mentioned ugliness. It may be “for the kids”, but that’s not much of an excuse at times where family films like Wall-E prove that clever writing remain essential. If nothing else, Igor proves that computer-animated features are now cheap and common enough that they can find a place in the B-movie ecosystem. This is one film that will sink away from memory soon after its DVD release.

(On DVD, September 2008) This Korean monster movie is most notable for two things: First, for daring conventional wisdom by showing its monster early on, in full daylight, in the middle of a screaming crowd. That sequence is terrific, certainly among the best depiction of mass terror put on film, and promises much for the rest of the story. Alas, The Host is also famous for its refusal to play by the rules of Hollywood happy endings. So much so that the film ends with a sweeping wave of resentment and futility, as the object of the character’s sacrifices is dispensed with. It doesn’t help raise the overall appreciation of a film that is alternately depressing, slow, stupid and dull. The characters act in ways that are moronic enough to drive the plot forward, which makes it almost impossible to empathize for them. There are several plot-holes in the story which become impossible to justify over the several days that the story takes place: a tighter time-frame (a few hours, say) would have paved over several problems, but here they’re just excuses for knocking characters in unconsciousness, killing cell phones, gratuitous chases and incompetent military forces. There’s still a lot to admire about the film (I’m particularly impressed by the sequence in which the image of a Molotov-throwing rioter is transformed into an operatic slow-motion portrayal of a selfless hero), but it’s a film that seems almost determined to undermine any attempt at sympathy. After having seen Cloverfield, it’s not because it’s not from Hollywood that it’s necessarily better.