Movie Review

(In theaters, May 2008) Michael Gondry is an bizarrely inventive director, and Be Kind Rewind is never as good as when it runs with that streak of lunacy, imagining how a few desperate filmmakers come to recreate home-made “sweded” versions of some of cinema’s greatest hits. It’s funny, it’s original and it’s affectionate toward cinema. But there’s only a few minutes of that in the entire film: the rest is taken up by the increasingly annoying Jack Black shtick and a forced conclusion in which we’re supposed to believe in the old clap-trap of communities pulling together. A barely-interesting plot holds everything together loosely, forcing us to wait between the film’s most compelling scenes. The dialog is trite and the characters act as if they’re brain-damaged (though Danny Glover’s finger-written warning is amusing): even for movie buffs, Be Kind Rewind barely gets started before lapsing back in a far-too-conventional third act. Almost a failure, but certainly not a triumph.

(On DVD, May 2008) “Unusual” starts to describe this picture but doesn’t do justice. Take the conceit of structuring a 1960s romance around Beatles songs, and then add Julie Taymor’s visual intensity and you’ll get a better idea of this film. Oh, it’s not entirely successful: the film is high on stunts and low on sustained interest, most of the time being spent waiting for the next flash of interest. The ending takes far too long, and the portrait of the period ends up skewed toward its most exciting fringe elements. But as a heightened portrait of reality, it definitely has its moments, though those moments may end up being farther apart than one would expect. It’s a curiosity, though I expect that Beatles fan with an excellent knowledge of the group’s musical catalog will be far more entertained than casual second-generation fans. The DVD features a pretty good commentary track by director Julie Taymor.

(In theaters, April 2008) The comedy sub-genre of the spoof has fallen on hard time recently, and if Superhero Movie won’t do much to raise the bar, at least it has stopped digging deeper than the most common denominator: it does contain a number of laughs, and won’t disappoint indulgent audiences even despite its general lack of cleverness. Detail-oriented cinephiles will note that the lineage of this film takes on from the not-so-awful Scary Movie 3 and 4 rather than the Epic Movie creators. The big obvious target here is Superhero movies (imagine that), with a plot line taken straight from Spider-Man with occasional references from the X-Men and Fantastic Four trilogies. The humor is dumb, crude, gross and slap-sticky, but sometimes it works: seeing a Stephen Hawking caricature repeatedly swear after bodily harm is funnier than expected. Drake Bell isn’t too bad (ie: escapes the film with most of his dignity) as the protagonist of the tale, while Leslie Neilsen has long passed that point and even cameos by Regina Hall fail to create excitement. There are a few up-to-the-second pop-culture gags (the most inspired being the parody of Tom Cruise’s already-loopy Scientology video), but the bodily secretion gags eventually overwhelm everything else, leaving little that’s funny for high school graduates. The only way this film looks good is that there’s been much worse in the genre lately. Otherwise, this doesn’t even reach the level of High School High which, ten years ago, was considered an unfunny mess.

(In theaters, April 2008) If, during this film, you suddenly feel that this is a cracked-up insane version of LAPD corruption thrillers like Dark Blue and Training Day, do not be alarmed: It is, after all, directed by David Ayer who also wrote both of those movies. Better yet, the film is co-written by crime novelist James Ellroy, who contributed the story to Dark Blue and L.A. Confidential. It’s familiar territory for both men, and it shows: Street Kings moves swiftly through a fairly basic story of high-level police corruption, but not quickly enough for us to point at a specific connection and wonder how the characters are all unwilling to see a crucial piece of evidence. The answer, of course, is that they’ll do that at the most dramatically opportune moment. Still; there’s a lot to like here for people looking for a crunchy (if slightly deranged) police thriller, from a more energetic performance than usual for Keanu Reeves to enjoyable turns by Forest Whitaker and Naomie Harris. It’s not great art, but it’s adequate entertainment, and people who are predisposed toward L.A. Noir will like it well enough.

(In theaters, April 2008) There’s an annoying lack of focus and commitment to this film that ultimately doom it to irrelevance. As an exploration of the impact of the Iraq invasion on ordinary lower-class America, it’s an intriguing film. It even gets provocative as it portrays a good young man reaching for exile rather than being pressed back in service under “stop-loss” directives. It gets even more interesting as the war claims more victims at home, as the young returning soldiers are unable to cope with peacetime and self-destruct in various ways. But the loose and scattered feel of the film, especially as it re-invents itself as a botched road movie, constantly diffuse the impact of a story that should have been much stronger. The slow pacing doesn’t help, and the last-minute embrace of traditional American values (like, oh, doing one’s part for family pride and business imperialism) feels like a step back from what could have been a far stronger conclusion. If you’re going to toy with the idea of sedition, do it properly. Otherwise, well, you pretty much deserve the wars in which you get to die.

(In theaters, April 2008) There’s something both endearing and reprehensible in the way this film re-shapes the world to justify teenage fight clubs. It’s really a plot-driven excuse to drive the protagonist to bigger and better fights, but along the way we’re asked to cheer for an entire culture of blood-thirsty teenagers constantly shouting “Fight! Fight! Fight!” and filming the results for immediate distribution on YouTube. Yes, the American indoctrination to violence begins early in Florida… and we can even recognize the sanctimonious hypocrisy of the national character when the protagonist is portrayed as a reluctant brawler who is forced, yes forced to beat up others. But who am I to complain? As a purely American martial-arts film, Never Back Down works relatively well and flows relatively well from one expected set-piece to another. It may have all the appeal of an id laid bare and hypocrisy run wild, but it’s seldom dull. Djimon Hounsou once again manages to escape from a movie mess with his dignity intact, but he’s pretty much the only one.

(In theaters, April 2008) Wow. Who could have thought that a stoner comedy could lead to such a politically-charged sequel? A surefire reflection of the times we live in, this sequel to the unexpectedly hilarious Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle features our two protagonists being mistaken for terrorists, tortured in Guantanamo Bay, escaping to the mainland USA and being chased by overbearing DHS agents until they befriend a stoner George W. Bush. And I’m not mentioning the agent who wipes himself with the Bill of Rights, the fierce anti-racism, Neil Patrick Harris as “Neil Patrick Harris” and the triumphant romanticism of a mathematical poem. Unexpected delights in what is, after all, a teen stoner comedy that could have been perfectly happy showing the two protagonists going to another chain of restaurants. While the film doesn’t scale the absurd heights of the original, its mixture of political content and low-brow comedy is utterly fascinating. The film seldom shies away from comic reversals (the sequence in which the two protagonists interrupt a street basketball game is a highlight) and re-reversals, but it’s the caricature of Bush as a frat-boy stoner that sticks in mind, both savage and yet oddly sympathetic at the same time. Fans of the first film may not be blown out of their minds, but they’ll be satisfied, and cultural critics won’t stop thinking about the ways this film uses the legacy of the Bush administration as comic fodder, blatantly assuming the audience’s prejudices regarding DHS paranoia, Guantanamo torture and Bush’s weaknesses. Utterly fascinating… plus it’s got nudity.

(In theaters, April 2008) What a shame that the first (and probably last) on-screen pairing of Jackie Chan and Jet Li comes ten years too late and has to be stuck in a painfully americanized wish-fulfillment fantasy. For fans of Asian martial arts movies, this film is a thoroughly mixed bag of references and pretentious myth-making, with an American protagonist who really doesn’t belong there. Ignore the yadda-yadda about a Boston teenager magically traveling to a land of fantasy and mystical nonsense: The real worth of the film, as usual, is in the fights. The standout is obviously a battle between Li and Chan, the straightforward rigid style of the first one meeting the goofy looseness of the second: It’s a purely enjoyable ten minutes of generously uncut physical movement, far away from the annoying kid and the even more annoying mythology. As for the rest, well, it’s both good and bad: while Yifei Liu and Bingbing Li are The Hotness (white long hair, rwwwr), their characters, like everyone else, are ill-served by a threadbare plot that seldom exploits the possibilities offered by its premise. The scenery is nice. The special effects don’t add much to the story except for some shiny combat rays and hair extensions. Throughout, it’s hard to avoid the feeling that the filmmakers are gosh-wowed by the elements at their disposal rather than ready to make use of them. It doesn’t help that the tone remains juvenile throughout. At least the film remains pleasant from beginning to end, offering just enough to keep everyone happy while not enough to strike any lasting impression.

(In theaters, April 2008) Al Pacino can chew scenery like anyone else, and his oversize persona, when finally unleashed very late in the film, is probably the only thing that saved 88 Minutes from a quick and merciful straight-to-video release. Well, that and the film’s fake real-time premise, which gets relatively dense once the show is firmly on the road. Until then, however, it’s a long slog through a far too lengthy prologue, a laborious set of character introductions and far too many scenes dedicated to a villain that’s more exasperating than interesting. A better film would have taken the hint of the title and run with a real-time thriller the likes of which TV series 24 was made so popular. Here, alas, the film seldom has the courage of its own concept, and in fact blows part of its conclusion early by giving a seemingly minor role to a major thespian: what’s that person doing in such a small role unless it’s meant to become… something else? Still, the film doesn’t need external encyclopedic knowledge of actors to fail on its own merit: Despite being set in Seattle, it’s visibly shot in Vancouver (watch for the newspaper boxes and the known intersections!), a lax attitude to the product that carries over to just about every other aspect of this potboiler thriller. Pacino remains the only rock of watchable quality in this film, especially at the conclusion, which makes less sense that anyone can figure out given the tight time constraints of the story. Oh well; call it a second choice for a rainy afternoon when you’ve seen just about everything else at the video store.

(In theaters, April 2008) In many ways, this isn’t much of a film. It plays off a tried-and-true dramatic template, it’s never surprising and it never tries anything too ambitious. Even the “adapted from a true story” gloss fades as we realize how conveniently the plot points align together. But 21 makes up for timid plotting by delivering a satisfying look at how a few MIT students were able to turn the Vegas blackjack tables into a profit-generating venture with a mixture of skill, daring and persistence. The method is ingenious (though the film flubs it for dramatic impact: there’s no reason for the “spotter” to remain at the table once the real player starts betting, for instance) and the end results immediately appeals to anyone looking for a clever-than-thou story. Better yet, the film leads straight to the book, which is even better. I’m not too fond of the white-washed casting choices in the film (especially not when Asian eye-catcher Liza Lapira is left in the background while blandy-bland Kate Bosworth gets the lead female role) but that’s not much of a criticism when the rest of the film flows smoothly from one expected beat to another. Kevin Spacey and Lawrence Fishburne have good turns as the adults of the piece. The direction has inspired moments, particularly when it manages to explain an intricate system in a few sharp moments. As for the rest, well, it’s living vicariously through a bunch of young people who have figured how to live large at Vegas’ expense. Cue the alcohol, the clubs, the shopping and the limousines. Will our hero ever manage to regain his inner nerdness? Of course, he will. Just hop on the ride and enjoy for a moment.

(In theaters, April 2008) Though billed as a historical adventure in prehistoric time, it may be closer to reality to call this a laugh-free comedy set in prehistoric fantasyland. All that energy could have been spent on a luscious Conan film, but instead we get sabertooth tigers living alongside terror birds, mammoths being used to build pyramids and other nonsense. It occasionally makes for great images (what would it have been like to face down a charging mammoth?), but 10,000 BC seldom finds a way to take advantage of the material it glues together thanks to an indifferent story and a script that seldom gives us a reason to care about its characters. Worse yet is the dash of wholly unnecessary mysticism that provides useful plot coupons and rescues a happy ending out of poor plotting choices. But the film’s biggest problem -by far- it that it’s an inert and boring piece of filmmaking that can’t even justify its grandiose title. The worthwhile material from this film fits in the trailer with some time to spare, so watch that rather than the full film: at least you’ll be able to use the remaining two hours to do something else.

(On DVD, March 2008) There’s nothing like being stuck on a guided tour bus for hours with proud redneck drivers and force-fed DVDs to make you appreciate the finer points of movies you wouldn’t pay to see. But the horrible truth about Wild Hogs is that it made me smile. Despite the generic blandness of Tim Allen, the bloated arrogance of John Travolta, the grating awfulness of Martin Lawrence and the pitiful indignity of William H. Macy (who deserves better), Wild Hogs is cookie-cutter lowest-denominator comedy and it still works. There isn’t much to say about the plot (four guys looking for adventure go on a motorcycle trip to the west coast) except for how it’s engineered to frustrate the “road trip” aspect almost from the get-go in order to provide a consistent plot. It’s the grown-up equivalent of Saturday morning cartoons, with the low-brow middle-aged slapstick and the caricatured opponents, although with the teenage attractions of slap-dash romance, dull homophobic jokes and fear of strong adult women. Everyone and everything is wasted here, including Ray Liotta and especially Marisa Tomei. (Peter Fonda’s cameo being the biggest wasted moment.) Yet it’s tough to actually stop watching: it’s far from being as awful as the trailer suggested, and it’s possible to see here the glimmer of a much better film buried under the star prancing and sub-literate plotting: something about middle-aged anxieties, the wasted allure of pretend lifestyles and how it’s never too late to grow up. But growing up isn’t something that particularly interests either the characters or the audiences of this film, and so Wild Hogs remains painfully limited even if it succeeds on purely mechanical craft.

(On DVD, March 2008) I remember seeing the first two episodes of this series a few years ago and being quite amused by the blend of high-concept (“British Library Special Operations” has got to be the coolest division title ever put on a business card), super-powered characters and wild anime action scenes. But a new look at the series reveals the stupefying power of decaying memories: If I’m still generally entertained by the series, it now seems to me that it does little with the possibilities at its disposal. “The Paper” isn’t nearly as proactive as I remember her, and the “British Library operatives” conceit seems to be discarded early on as the series adopts a more conventional superhero structure. It’s still worth a look, but I’ve got plot hamsters running around telling me how unbelievably better this concept could be with just a few tweaks.

(On DVD, March 2008) Barry Levinson’s career is filled with ambitious misfires, and so this film isn’t much of a surprise. The idea of a comedian being elected President isn’t a bad one, and it certainly powers Robin Williams through a zinger-filled performance that’s entertainingly close to his stand-up personae. But good comedy seldom meshes well with tense dramatic suspense, and that’s the tack that the script chooses to take here, much to the film’s detriment. Once again so that everyone can follow: Comedian using stand-up material to subvert a presidential debate: funny. Whistle-blower being injected with paranoia-inducing drugs so that she behaves in a way that will result in her losing everything? Not funny. Now that we’ve got that squared away, we can see how the wild tonal shifts of Man Of The Year doom it to frustration. Oh, sure, Christopher Walken is fine (if wasted) and there’s some fine-tuned political content here. But the lazy romantic material, the weak technical details (including a “software bug” which makes no sense even assuming rotten quality control) and the increasing heft given to unfunny material pretty much sabotage the film before it gets to a uniquely yielding finale. It should have worked much better, perhaps in the hands of a less ambitious director. In the meantime, it’s an interesting film that’s almost good.