Movie Review

(In theaters, November 2005) Director Harold Ramis here makes a blatant bid for the “Coen Brothers” type of film, only to fail when it becomes obvious that the script is only a pale copy of the “small city black comedy” sub-genre. Sure, protagonist John Cusack is always sympathetic (though he’s reaching an age where boyishness ceases to be an option), Connie Nielsen plays a suitable femme fatale and Billy Bob Thornton is effortlessly dangerous. But there’s a a lack of urgency in this script, despite the tight time frame, despite the desperate circumstances, despite the potential for interesting characters. Certain scenes rise above the others (isn’t it surprising how a guy talking his way out of a locked trunk is comic gold?) while others just linger in place. At least there’s plenty of skill to admire in the film’s first act, as it plunges us boldly in a situation where characters already have established relationships. To be fair, The Ice Harvest doesn’t attempt to be anything more than a low-octane criminal comedy, and it achieves this goal with a relative ease. The performances are relaxed, the direction is unobtrusive and until the drawn-out ending, the film moves at a comfortable rhythm. Not exceptional, but not too bad either.

(In theaters, November 2005) Dour and ponderous, manipulative and sometimes incoherent, Derailed is further hampered by bad casting choices and a wholly unnecessary double ending. But don’t let that deter you: as a thriller, Derailed knows that it’s not playing in the big leagues, and this basic honesty does much to reconcile viewers with the picture’s raw exploitation. Nominally yet another vigilante story in which an innocent man’s small transgression gets him caught in ever-bigger lies, Derailed easily turns into yet another revenge picture. Here, Clive Owen is arguably miscast as a passive character who eventually learns how to, er, settle his issues decisively. Jennifer Aniston isn’t much better as a tragic heroine. (Only Vincent Cassel is pretty much perfect as the criminal mastermind, even slipping in a line that only Francophones will appreciate) The story is out to manipulate the viewer, and isn’t above lying, cheap shocks and an all-powerful villain to do so. Never mind the plot holes, of course. It adds up to a cheap thriller that at least doesn’t waste too much time. The third act isn’t so good, but by then the movie has to assume the choices it made. Too bad about the cheap second “Kill the bad guy! Kill him!!!” ending. It’s the kind of thing fit to make you wonder how the entire film would have worked so much better as a silly comedy. Chances are that you may enjoy the film as it runs. But you’ll have a hard time respecting it the next day.

(In theaters, November 2005) As tempting it may be to excuse this film’s flaws by restating that it’s a kid’s movie, it’s not much of an excuse when comparing the film to any of Pixar’s offerings. The comparison is even more apt considering that Chicken Little is the first film from Disney’s own CGI unit, whcih was set up partly to replace the Mouse’s dependence upon its Pixar distribution agreement. Alas, if Chicken Little occasionally shows moments of charm and wit, the overall film suffers from a bad structure, blatant emotional manipulation and tonal shifts that cumulatively take their toll. One thing that is irreproachable is the quality of the animation and some of the character design: Suburban Oakey Oaks residents are well-patterned after animals, and the sight-gags can be amusing. Sadly, some of those gags seem thrown in the movie without much attention to their surroundings: Chicken Little is filled with individual moments that don’t make much sense in context, especially given how the film doesn’t aim for absurd humour. This ties into the weak structure of the film, which feels padded and meandering; the baseball game sequence is a perfect example of this wobbly structure, clumsily inserted in the rest of the film almost as an excuse to present baseball gags. The soundtrack seems just as forced, providing even cheaper emotional manipulation than the rest of the oft-maudlin screenplay. Fortunately, it all leads to a more focused third act that’s even funnier with fresh memories of War Of The Worlds. But even this late-start burst of energy can’t hide a film that can’t manage to transcend its kiddie audience, much to the dismay of their parents.

(In theaters, October 2005) Expectations were high for this first feature-length Wallace and Gromit film after the success of their previous short animated films and the boffo Chicken Run. Fortunately they’re all met with stylish wit in this animated horror film parody. Once again, the staff at Aardman studios is in full mastery of their art: Grommit’s silent performance is astonishing, and not just because it’s coming from a staff of dozen. A number of surprisingly audacious gags (featuring religious imagery, or produce-driven innuendos) pepper a solid script that will appeal equally to kids and adults. The deliberately rough claymation “with fingerprints” is a debatable artistic choice, but the rest of the film is almost perfect. Don’t miss it: it’s sure to become a DVD classic.

(In theaters, October 2005) Dreamworks Animation Studio has perfected the art of B-grade computer animated films for kids (see A Shark’s Tale), but Madagascar is unlikely to do much to raise their non-Shrek profile. Cursed with unappealing character designs and even more unappealing characters (though Alex the Lion gets a pass on account of his pentagonal mane), Madagascar is just unpleasant to watch and not much more fun to follow. The tortured plot seems forced, and we’re left to contemplate over and over again if there’s a reason for this film to exist. The animation is fairly good, but can’t do much to overcome the shackles of the character design. Give me cute and cuddly! The penguins are a rare bright spot in an otherwise unremarkable film. It’s hard to watch without thinking that something just isn’t working properly.

(In IMAX theatres, October 2005) It had been a long time since I’d stepped inside an IMAX movie theatre, and this was a fine way of doing it: a short documentary about moonwalks, with a careful CGI recreation of the experience and musings on when we’ll go back. Nicely narrated by Tom Hanks, this film suffers from being too short: It would have been nice to see some more of that IMAX-resolution CGI. Otherwise, there isn’t much to say: Good usage of archival material, good script (which even acknowledges the whole moon-mission-hoax nuttiness) and even the sentimentality doesn’t seem out of place: I want humans to go back on the moon as badly as everyone involved in the making of the film seems to be.

(In theaters, October 2005) “Cronenberg does Charles Bronson” would have been an interesting log-line if it wasn’t for the end result, which feels a lot like “Charles Bronson on Valium”. The simple, simple story of a man sucked back in violent acts after years escaping his past, A History Of Violence is pretty thoroughly spoiled by its trailer, and not even a radically different third act actually deviates from the story act suggested in the first half hour of the film. The performances are nicely understated and the director consciously avoids any glorification of action, but this doesn’t play as well as you would think: The film rather feels like swimming in molasses, ruminating over the same points over and over again. The last twenty minutes of the film feel like a replay of the previous forty, with the protagonist doing pretty much what he has to do in order to solve the problem. Again. The tepid pacing doesn’t help much: we’ve seen this story dozens of time before, in B-movies that at least had the decency not to take themselves too seriously. But Cronenberg does, A History Of Violence does, and this valiant attempt to bring grind-house plotting to the geriatric set does no one any favour.

(In theaters, October 2005) It takes a heck of a lot of work to adapt a first-person shooter into a dull movie that completely ignore the game’s plot. And yet the geniuses behind this movie (including director Andrzej Bartkowiak, whose Exit Wounds and Cradle 2 The Grave weren’t bad at all) found a way to neuter Doom‘s hellish theme and make a movie whose middle hour is one uninterrupted stretch of boredom. Nice going, Mensa candidates (golf clap). The movie isn’t without its good moments (the opening zoom shot; the BFG; and boy-oh-boy isn’t Rosamund Pike a cutie?) but they’re like droplets of cool water in a scorching inferno of dull movie-making. Karl Urban and Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson both do fine as macho heroes (even graphically illustrating the original meaning of fragging), but the rest of the film can’t really rise above the level of a dull Aliens ripoff. Except when it comes to scientific verisimilitude, in which case Doom gets beaten up by every zombie film ever made, including the first Resident Evil. As one of the original 1993-vintage Doom fans, I can recall then-rumours of a movie project with amused bemusement: “What? An hour and a half of a first-person view running through corridors?” And yet the neatest ironic twist on that wisecrack is that the best sequence of the film is indeed five minutes of a first-person view running through corridors. Showing both technical skills and amazing audacity, this sequence rises far above the rest of the film. Well, except for the end credit sequence, in which a first-person player shoots away the names of the film’s cast and crew. Nice touch. Eerily appropriate, given my mood at the end of the film.

(In theaters, October 2005) After Man On Fire, one could reasonably wonder if director Tony Scott had gone insane. This question is decisively settled with Domino, a garish experiment in cinema grammar that’s as glorious as it’s completely out of control. Nominally a story “sort of” adapted from the life of a real posh-chick turned bounty hunter, Domino quickly abandons any pretence at realism to dive boldly in the abyss of digital colour manipulation. Looped lines, tricky chronological structure, trippy visuals, incoherent over-editing and fancy subtitles are only a few of the tricks unleashed on what could have been a fairly enjoyable story. But everything here is drenched in saturated colours, brought to the limit of coherency by a director more interested in pushing the envelope than he is in delivering a good story. The result is a blast, but it’s as exhilarating as it’s disorienting: Few will have the stomach to last through a gratuitous Jerry Springer episode, a gruesome amputation and Tom Waits as a mystical desert stranger. Bad by most objective standards, but still fascinating in a ghastly kind of way. Much as I loathe to admit it, I’m really looking forward to Tony Scott’s next film.

(On DVD, September 2005) Well, I suppose that the South Korean film industry should be proud of itself: With Tube, they have now proved that they can make overwrought B-grade dumb action pictures like Hollywood. Produced with impeccable production values but a minimum of cleverness, Tube is that old action standby, a hostage drama in a confined space. In this case, a rogue special operative goes after a politician in the Seoul subway system, and it’s up to a difficult policeman to solve the situation. The images hold their own. The pacing, not so much. A key to action film is their sense of fluidity, but Tube keeps squandering whatever good will it manages to accumulate through endless character scene padding. The characters are either clichéd or annoying, and the story simply doesn’t move quickly enough. After the promising Shiri (from the same film-making team), Tube goes nowhere, lacking a clear sense of storytelling direction. Viewers will finish the film with a sense of exhaustion, which really isn’t the emotion action movies should be aiming for.

(In theaters, September 2005) It’s all too common these days to watch action movies and say “well, that was impossible”, but nothing will prepare you for the level of quasi-comic preposterousness displayed by this wholly unnecessary sequel. Oh, sure, Jason Stratham is fabulously cool as the driver for whom nothing is too difficult or too impossible. There are, to be fair, a number of cool stunts, but let me repeat it: you have never seen a film with such sustained physics-defying action. (Though the simplest are often the most effective: computer-enhanced car-jumping from building to building is good for a bored meh, but reaching underneath an 18-wheeler front wheel is enough to make you jump in surprise) The excessively rapid editing doesn’t help: at some point, the action attains a cartoonish quality that defies Stratham’s image as a hard-nosed protagonist. As for the plot, well, the less said the better: Luc Besson doesn’t have a clue when it comes to plausibility, and so the yadda-yadda about viruses and antidotes is dismissed almost as quickly as it’s heard. Let’s not even discuss the characters or the quality of the dialogue. Fortunately, Miami takes up the slack in the beauty department and even despite everything, maybe even despite its audience, Transporter 2 ends up being an adequate action film.

(In theaters, September 2005) As a reluctant fan of the original TV series (love the characters; can’t stand some background SF elements), I was part of the film’s core audience: Please give me more of the characters, regardless of the story. The good news is that like Star Wars III, Serenity is satisfying to its audience: plot threads are picked up and tied together, the characters keep their appeal and the Special Effects budget is adjusted upward. What’s more, the writing quality is generally high and the dialogues have some classic moments. Some characters have have been given short thrift, but I’m generally a warm and happy fan. But as a more serious SF fan and movie critic, I’ve got my reservations: Once you’re past the fabulous first few minutes, the quality of the film’s structure devolves, falling apart in the last act. The fights go on for too long, the conclusion takes a few gratuitous shortcuts, one character changes his mind far too easily. (Truth will make you free, but spin locks up those who don’t want to escape, I’m tempted to say) For non-Firefly fans, this film is unlikely to make much of an impact: it’s just not that unique. The film is better than most of the science-fiction we’ve seen on-screen this year, but it never completely escapes its TV origin. (Reavers? Still dumb.) Too bad, because there are some uniquely visceral moments here and there (Atmospheric re-entry has seldom been best portrayed on-screen) and the Special Effects work is quite nice. Will the movie make enough money to justify a sequel? Don’t know. But let’s hope so.

(Second viewing, On DVD, April 2006) For fans of “Firefly”, watching this film in theatres was a mixture of expectations fulfilled and hope for more. Months later, watching the film on DVD has the warm bittersweet feeling of one last time with the whole gang. Oh, we do love the characters, the dialogue and writer/director Joss Whedon. Oh, the gang at Universal has done a superb and generous job at putting together a top-notch DVD. (Well, they could have added an all-Morena Baccarin special featurette, but that’s just me.) Oh, Joss Whedon’s audio commentary is everything we’d hoped for back in theatres. Are DVD sale going to be high enough to justify a sequel? Is this the end for the Firefly saga? Your guess is a good as mine, but the film is still a lot of fun, and it takes a well-deserved place on the shelves right next to the TV show box set.