Movie Review

(On DVD, June 2006) There is a lot to like about David LaChapelle’s debut film, a documentary about the clowning/krumping dance movement. The advantages of tracking such recent cultural phenomenons is that it’s easy to reach back to the original movers and shakers, which in this case means spending time with “Tommy The Clown”, who first defined clowning. As with most things involving the American black community, there is a huge sociocultural element to Rize, and the film never shies away from it, telling once more the story of the ghettoized blacks of Los Angeles, and how clowning/krumping can be a way to rise above day-to-day life. (In a striking segment, LaChapelle reaches deep into archival footage to show African tribal dances, which share a strong similarity to the “modern” dance movement studied by the film.) When Rize truly gets into its subject, it’s gripping stuff: The “Battle Zone” sequence has a strong narrative drive, and its conclusion is the type of thing that breaks your heart. The dance footage itself is nothing short of beautiful, especially when LaChapelle breaks out the mineral oil for some final staged sequences near Los Angeles River. “The footage in this movie has not been sped up in any way.” the film tells us, which is ironic because it’s often most astonishing when it’s slowed down. Alas, if Rize has a problem, it’s that it could have used more narrative cohesion. Granted, the whole city of Los Angeles often seems like an alien culture to me, but still: I often felt as if the film needed commentary, context and explanations. (I’m not sure that this review is coherent, but I can guarantee it would have been even less so if it hadn’t been for Wikipedia.) Yet Rize remains fascinating, even when it’s difficult to figure out what’s happening: the wonders of pure energy.

(On DVD, June 2006) Films about relationships are really not what I look for when I sit down to watch a DVD, but Horloge Biologique was such as success at the Quebec box-office that it was impossible to put off watching it much longer. It starts broadly enough, sketching portraits of three guys in the middle thirties are they each come to terms with much-delayed adulthood, settling down and having children. Ricardo Trogi’s direction is sharp and crisp, and the comedy seems relatively innocuous at first, headed toward the usual redemptive character arc. But that changes as the male characters are further defined as repulsive bastards, ones that can’t be bothered to make the right decisions even if it’s obvious. The female characters don’t fare much better: though presumably more level-headed than their boyfriends, they’re underwritten to such a degree that their roles as plot objects for the benefit of the protagonists becomes only too obvious. By the time the film wound down, I was actively hoping for a bus to mow down all characters. While I have to acknowledge the film’s ruthlessness (not everyone gets a happy ending, and even fewer of them deserve one) and competence in achieving exactly what it sets out to do, it’s too easy to loathe everyone in it.

(In theaters, June 2006) From anyone else but Pixar, this film would be a mega-hit and a critic’s darling. From Pixar, it’s just another film in their collection, maybe not as good as some of the other ones. It’s certainly problematic at times: overlong, too sentimental and afflicted with muddled nostalgia. While Pixar films usually stand up well to multiple viewing, I have the feeling that many will choose to fast-forward a number of segments. Plus, I defy anyone to watch the romantic subplot and not think “Car Sex? How does that work?” And yet focusing on the film’s problems would be doing a disservice to the film’s undeniable qualities. While the story is a threadbare feel-good classic of redemption and the characters are pretty much all out of central casting, there’s a relentless degree of creativity in how the designers and animators were able to give human characteristics to cars. Some of the attempts look goofy, but others work surprisingly well. (I was particularly amused at the celebrity caricatures.) Otherwise, well, it’s “just” a solid movie for kids and adults alike… though the adults may not want to see this more than twice.

(On DVD, June 2006) There’s no real way to go around the fact that a film about growing up in Quebec during the seventies (growing up gay, no less) sounds like an unbearable chore. The clothes? The haircuts? The colours? The… ergh. But C.R.A.Z.Y. embraces the era and, in no small part thanks to a fabulous soundtrack that ended up sucking a good proportion of the film’s budget. Despite the homosexual sub-theme (which is, despite the film’s reputation, only a small part of the whole), the film feels like an old-fashioned family drama, handled with competent care and attention. The episodic storyline runs a bit too long and loses track of itself during the third act, but nonetheless leave a pleasant impression. It doesn’t go much farther than that, but that’s often just good enough. (Hey, I was just born in the seventies, okay? I didn’t stay there long.)

(In theaters, June 2006) French cinema has often threatened to become an action powerhouse, but attempts so far have proved disappointing and -worse- fleeting. Still, writer/producer Luc Besson tries and tries again, and with Banlieue 13, he may come closest to replicating the insane energy of Jackie Chan films. Loosely set in a dystopian near-future where whole districts of Paris lie fallow and ungoverned, Banlieue 13 uses parkour and street fighting as inspiration for action scenes, with stunts that are good enough to leave you gasping. The narrative set-up is interesting (though ultimately disappointing, in no small part thanks to Besson’s predictable distrust of authority), but never mind the story: what really shines here are the two lead actors (Cyril Raffaelli and parkour guru David Belle), who kick and punch and jump their way to the end. They’re enormously likable characters, so let’s hope that they can keep it up: action cinema is often a matter of leads, and these two seem perfectly able to carry a film on their shoulders. As for the rest, well it’s almost all good: there is a definite lack of women in this macho film and the social commentary is overdone, but the film as a whole is dynamic, fresh and fun-fun-fun. Now let’s see the next one.

(In theaters, June 2006) There is a moment during this film (I suspect it will be a different moment for everyone) where you just stop and tell yourself “Hmm… I just paid ten dollars to see a slide presentation on a scientific subject… and it’s great!” As a sucker for science, environmentalism, presentations and American politics, An Inconvenient Truth has a number of effective hooks on me: but the fact remains that this is a concert film where a slide presentation of global warming takes the place of a rock show. Al Gore makes an affable, enormously likable presenter: Ironically, the film falters when it stays with him and his family history, picking up as soon as the presentation starts again. It’s a slick piece of work, both from a technical and an rhetorical sense: The visual information is meticulously well-calibrated, dosed with humour and delivered with honed passion. As someone who’s already convinced of the importance of Global Warming, the film was already playing to a converted audience: still, I could only appreciate the build-up of the film, the oratory prowesses and the archival snippets (did you notice the footage from Fahrenheit 9/11 and The Day After Tomorrow?). While the film often plays hard and fast with causality (I wanted to ask questions at times, or point out areas that could use a bit more explanation), one of An Inconvenient Truth‘s best characteristics is how it make a complex scientific subject a lot of fun. Yay, science! The other big asset of the film -and one that may go unnoticed from the doom-and-gloom trailers- is how the film ends on a real note of hope, something fit to make anyone stand up and do something. A unique film –and one well worth seeing.

(On DVD, June 2006) Subtle yet intricate, this romantic comedy manages to weave an impressive number of sub-themes and tangled subplots in only 90 minutes. Serendipity reigns supreme in this tale of crossed identities, lost messages, misleading appearances and tangled characters. Yves Pelletier’s script contains plenty of artistic references to new-age beliefs, theremin playing, and Vermeer paintings (including a visual nod to “The Girl With a Pearl Earring”, thanks to Isabelle Blais’ uncanny resemblance) After a sputtering start, the film finds its way once all the characters are introduced and rolls along until a conclusion that leaves a few characters hanging by the wayside. Fortunately, the images are top-notch, and the actors all do a good job. (Plus, hey, there’s a small role for Isabelle Cyr.) Quiet but satisfying, Les Aimants is a little surprise even for those who follow the French-Canadian movie scene.

(On DVD, June 2006) I really expected to hate this movie, and this expectation never completely disappeared throughout the entire film: Time and time again, I found myself gritting my teeth in anticipation, dreading the obvious gags that would follow. But what’s perhaps most impressive about The 40-Year-Old Virgin is how it manages to side-step the obvious and deliver a surprisingly heart-felt comedy. Like the better sex comedies, it has a conflicted take on the subject, considering it as much as a source of problems than an end upon itself. Fortunately, there’s more to the film than a score chart, and perhaps the biggest asset of the script is the vast number of fully-realized supporting characters. The sometime rough banter between guys is spot-on, although the film allows itself a number of off-the-wall moments from time to time. Interestingly enough, this depth of characterization carries along a number of problems: The film ends with a considerable number of loose ands and characters left by the wayside, more than enough to pack a sequel if someone would be so inclined. Other missteps abound, especially during the increasingly moralistic and easy conclusion: After seeing the film top itself for so long, it’s a shame to see it fumble with the usual romantic comedy misunderstanding and spectacular finale. Despite the title, the trailers and the “unrated!” marketing, there’s actually an unnerving sub-text of stuffy morality weaved throughout, with a conclusion designed to charm mainstream America. In the end, the best I can say is that I didn’t hate the film as much as I though I would… and even laughed a few times.

(In theaters, May 2006) If I actually cared about the X-Men as a comic book with a decades-long history, I may be peeved at the way they handled the “Dark Phoenix” idea. But given that I don’t (and haven’t even read the Dark Phoenix Saga), I thought the film was a good-enough summer action blockbuster and a good third instalment in the series. There is, certainly, a bit too much material and characters to handle gracefully: “The Cure” was a concept strong enough that the Dark Phoenix subplot wasn’t strictly required, and some more time with the characters may have been beneficial. But when the leather hits the pavement, X-Men 3 is a straight-ahead action locomotive: Brett Ratner is a better action director than Brian Singer, and the way he handles the rest of the film is unlikely to annoy anyone but the tedious anti-Ratners and the even more tedious X-Men integrists. Hey, it’s not deep cinema (despite the deeper-than-usual thematic resonances, simple concepts such as “succession planning” still seem to elude Professor X) and the only yardstick required in this case is the good old “was I entertained?” question. Of course I was. End of story… but don’t bet on this “last stand” being the end of the series: Peek at the end of the credits to understand why.

(In theaters, May 2006) And so there it is: The first widely-released motion picture explicitly about September 11, 2001. And a curious piece it is, consciously eschewing glossy movie-making in favour of a quasi-documentary approach that cranks up the intensity to a level that will be unbearable to some. As it stands United 93 is a bit of a schizoid film, starting in techno-thriller territory along with the air traffic controllers, to end as a claustrophobic thriller aboard flight 93. But regardless of the split, United 93 works when it should: Director Paul Greengrass’ shaky camera, so annoying in The Bourne Supremacy, works exceedingly well here as he captures an “over the shoulder” approach that skirts a fine line between exploitation and glorification. His script similarly presents the event in a matter-of-fact, quasi-documentary approach, only deviating from knowable facts in the final minute. (In an attempt to provide catharsis for its audience, United 93 has the passengers break into the cockpit, whereas black box recordings suggest this never happened.) But as a piece of cinema, its artistic worth almost becomes irrelevant to its place in history as “the first of those films.” For non-Americans, it mark a welcome step toward the “acceptance” stage of America’s national grief after a rather long “anger” stage.

(On DVD, May 2006) After watching far too many awful TV miniseries, my hope weren’t high for The Triangle –but I enjoy being pleasantly surprised, and it doesn’t take much time for this miniseries to intrigue: The opening credits are a visual joy to behold, and the first few scenes efficiently set up both the characters and the mystery at the heart of the story. Writer Rockne S. O’Bannon is not a novice, and his TV experience on shows such as Farscape shines brightly on this modern take on the Bermuda Triangle. Characters are initially sceptical, but come to be convinced by a bunch of interesting developments, including the salvage of a downed airliner that looks as if it’s aged half a century in only a few hours. It’s all fascinating, and if the three-part miniseries can’t eventually match of fulfil the expectations set up by its initial 90 minutes episode, it keeps a level of quality well above the norm for SF miniseries, especially at the Sci-Fi channel. The direction is pleasantly self-assured, juicing up even expository conversation thanks to dynamic camera setups. The numerous CGI shots are as well-done as they bring an extra interest to the story. Not all the plot threads are created equal (the Lou Diamond Philips sequences, in particular, are a bit tedious compared to the other characters), but the level of interest remains high. Too bad that the facile ending can’t explain everything that has popped up in the preceding four-and-a-half hours. Still, an above-average effort that’s worth seeing, especially if your alternative is all of the other straight-to-DVD releases at your local Blockbuster.

(On DVD, May 2006) Immediate intervention is required! Deep inside this three-hour-long miniseries lies an acceptable catastrophe film, but it’s been smothered in insipid dialogue, drawn-out development and an entire serial-killer subplot that seems spliced from another film entirely. This script shows clear signs of metastasizing plot threads: See that Peter Fonda subplot? It wander on for two hours, well past its relevancy to the action. And that serial killer thing, oh my: Have we just wasted forty minutes on something this painfully predictable? Did we just squander forty expensive minutes on that stuff? What about those false-escape subplots that serve no narrative purpose except goosing the already-exasperated viewers? Did you fall asleep too during those bits? Well –you’re not alone. Whoah, we’re not done, though: Check out that “Australia” in which everyone sounds American, everything looks South African and where the death penalty was re-introduced without anyone looking! Gee, and what about those Hanna-Barbera cartoons? –oops, those are supposed to be top-notch CGI sequences. Oh well. Hey, don’t feel so sorry for the film: if you’re going to use a title as generic and derivative as Supernova, evoking memories of the awful 2001 film, you pretty much deserve everything you’re going to get. (Hey, isn’t that Tia Carrere? She’s a bit older than the last time we saw her, but isn’t she still as cute as ever?) I can understand that this made-for-TV thing isn’t meant to be a work of art, but the least it could do was avoid wasting everyone else’s time: While there’s good stuff in Supernova (When was the last time we saw St. Louis trashed by plasma bolts? What about seeing the Sahara desert transformed in peaks of molten glass?), it simply squanders away any chance at snappiness or energy through useless subplots and mountains or irrelevance. Re-cut that poor thing and call me whenever Tia Carrere gets most of the screen-time.

(On DVD, May 2006) I will at least admit one thing: Slipstream had the potential to be interesting. Not fascinating, nor even original, but interesting: The premise involves a gadget that can rewind reality ten minutes back in time, a nerdy scientist and a bank robbery that goes wrong. Add to that a number of very nice production values (including CGI, helicopters, a decent truck crash and a good SWAT stand-off) and the result could have been a decent B-grade genre film. But bad writing and even worse direction dictated that this wasn’t to be: Slipstream quickly worsens with a pretentious (and nonsensical) opening monologue, and then proceeds to dig down even further. Sean Astin’s protagonist is immediately repulsive, and never recovers our affections later on. Vinnie Jones does better as a stereotypical crazy criminal, but Ivana Milicevic brings nothing special to her role as a FBI agent. Worse is the script, which can’t be bothered to wring any cleverness beyond the initial premise. The film still feels long even though it’s less than 90 minutes, which is a telling commentary on a film chiefly concerned about time. But where Slipstream really suffers is in the direction, which steals freely from dozens of better films without quite understanding why style usually serves a storytelling purpose. By the time we get to the merry-go-round of shooters (hey, don’t ask), it’s obvious that the director is padding twenty minutes’ worth of story into the length of a feature film. The result is a mess, not without potential but ultimately broken by its own incompetence. In the time-travel genre, Primer did a whole lot more with a whole lot less.

(In theaters, May 2006) I don’t think that many people were actively petitioning for a remake of the disaster-classic The Poseidon Adventure, but someone somewhere decided otherwise and suddenly threw 150 million dollars to Wolfgang Petersen to make it so. The end result is surprisingly dull: while the special effects are fabulous and the disaster is a workout for any decent theatre setup, it’s really hard to care for the moronic characters and their dwindling numbers. At least two of them die in entirely expected ways, raising barely more than a shrug: the pre-disaster characterization was reportedly left on the editing room floor, but I doubt that even compelling back-stories would have done much to enhance the episodic nature of Poseidon‘s running length. Characters try to get somewhere, see an obstacle and work their way through it (often losing one of their numbers in the process). Wash, rinse, repeat. Do we really want to see any of them succeed? Not really, and especially not when they’re as annoying as the kid who can’t stay put: it’s hard to cheer for characters whose cluelessness should be terminal. As the Poseidon finally sinks, so do most of our memories of the film. For all of ILM’s fantastic special effects (with a respectful nod at the fabulous all-digital opening shot), this is a straight-to-DVD film writ large, with bigger stars (including Kurt Russell, who rocks in anything) and slightly smoother dialogue. Looking at the sinking box-office results, the public seems to be in agreement. Pick it up in the bargain bin in a few months.