Movie Review

(In French, In theaters, May 2004) To be truthful, I wasn’t expecting much of this film: I’m not one for tearjerkers, gabfests, “populist” films (this film made a bundle at the Quebec box-office) nor melodramatic sequels. But there is something for everyone in the film, and if I could easily gloss over the melodrama of the dying protagonist, it was harder not to enjoy the witty intellectual dialogue between the band of literate, hedonistic friends at the centre of the film. Les Invasions Barbares is seldom as enjoyable as when they trade back salacious puns and philosophical references. (Sadly, the otherwise-decent subtitles completely give up during one such exchange… though at least we were spared the indignities of a dubbed film!) Otherwise, well, there is plenty of philosophical content to keep anyone busy, from a flash-analysis of 9/11 to a devastating scene literally showing the relics of Quebec’s Catholic church. (What this film isn’t is “focused”: the sprawling script touches upon anything and seeming everything.) In the end, I found myself cheering for the film, regardless of origin; it’s so rare to see liberal intellectualism so warmly portrayed than it is here, it’s just a shock to realize that it actually came from, in some sense, my own culture. Go figure.

(On DVD, May 2004) There’s a good reason why critics savaged this film when it first came out: It’s just not very good. Whatever visual polish the film may possess is bludgeoned into impotence through endless dark and damp cinematography. No point for variety here; the whole film quickly becomes annoying. While Feardotcom wants to explore the dark side of the Internet, it ends up feeling silly and forced; as the bizarre deaths pile up, one gets the impression that nothing will be explained. As it turns out, this is the correct impression: the conclusion devolves into silly serial murderer stuff, complete with a throwaway line about how the ghostly energy of mumbo-jumbo can leak (or leap, or squeak) from the Internet into the real world. Don’t gag me; I’m already doing that. Stephen Dorff and Natascha McElhone do their best with the material, but it’s a hopeless situation: McElhone is miscast (she’s better in more aloof roles) and Dorff is ineffective at giving life to the lame dialogue. The film descends so firmly into dull disinterest that I switched midway through my first viewing to the director’s audio commentary. Director William Malone seems well-intentioned, but Feardotcom can’t be salvaged with good intentions.

(In theaters, May 2004) It’s either growing mellowness or creeping senility, but I seem to be liking Roland’s Emmerich’s catastrophe films more and more. Hated Independence Day, was okay with Godzilla and now The Day After Tomorrow actually manages to be even a little bit good. Sure, it’s crammed with silly dialogue, familiar plotting and dumb Action Movie Moments (including characters out-running a tidal wave). But on the other hand, the destruction sequences are among the finest ever filmed. Hollywood’s destruction by mega-twisters is worth the price of the ticket by itself: Add to that the spectacle of New York getting flooded, then freezing in place and you have enough eye-candy to satisfy anyone. (For more, er, conventional eye-candy, check out the luscious Tamlyn Tomita. Wrrrw!) I wasn’t so amused by the lack of cold-sense exhibited by the characters (In sub-zero temperatures, you close doors behind you) nor the silly way the action scenes got amped-up through magically appearing axes or CGI wolves. Still, there is an undeniable power to The Day After Tomorrow, even if it’s in contemplating a chillingly plausible disaster. It’s a catastrophe film that aspires to a conscience and a brain: Considerable death and destruction isn’t fought and stopped at the last moment; science is seen as a provider of answers and safety and people find safety at a public library, be still my nerdish heart! (Plus, who survives? The gifted teens and the librarians! Wooo!) Sure, the science is intentionally unrealistic. But once you see New York under dozens of meters of snow, hardly any of that matter: The Day After Tomorrow delivers the goods. Consider the DVD pre-ordered.

(In theaters, April 2004) Familiarity breeds contempt, they say, and that’s a large part of why this is such an unsatisfying film. Local issues first: The film supposedly takes place in Montréal, but then switches back and both between Montréal and Québec City. Whaaa? Then there’s the European-French accents of the supposedly French-Canadian actors (even though they end up speaking English to each other most of the time. What’s up with that?) and a pretty damn poor use of local landmarks. Few of this is likely to make an impression on non French-Canadian viewers, but you can bet that the film’s credibility is nil in Quebec. Still, it doesn’t take a francophone to dislike the film: the bad script will do that by itself, from a tepid development to a “twist” that is simultaneously predictable and senseless. You have probably seen enough serial killer thrillers already; this one brings nothing new to the genre (including the dumb “taking lives” premise, so full of holes that it’s a wonder one built a script around it) The last act is especially tedious, as there are few surprises left in store and the last remaining jolt is a shock moment more than a honest twist. Fans of Angelina Jolie will get to see her naked, but even that is no great novelty. This should have been a straight-to-video release.

(In theaters, April 2004) If they ever made a movie about the audience watching this film, they’d call it The Punished. While the vengeful premise initially feels like a throwback to 80s action movies, The Punisher has none of the overblown charm of its Reagan-era predecessor. Detailing the film’s inanities would take too much time, but not as much as explaining why the film feels so dull and lifeless. The biggest problem with The Punisher isn’t how divorced it is from reality, but how it doesn’t bother to offer a more compelling fantasy universe. Even by the uneven standards of movies adapted from Marvel superhero comics, this one makes no sense, from deserted streets in the middle of Tampa to an impromptu press conference announcing both resurrection and vengeance plans. Supposedly top-notch assassins stroll in and sing their appearance (in a restaurant solely populated with the hero’s three allies) while high explosives are obtained by the truckload by a supposedly dead man (and hauled in an apartment with a cheap lock). Thomas Jane growls in the right places and Laura Harring is scrumptious, but John Travolta’s can’t do better than a charmless supporting performance with the awful material he’s burdened with. The pacing is completely off; don’t be surprised if you end up demanding a lot more punishment. Worse, however, is the film’s tone: not only doesn’t it succeed in imposing an overly dramatic atmosphere to the protagonist’s action (complete with a lot of alcohol; dumb), it feels compelled to introduce wacky neighbours as comic relief. It’s hard to overstate how ineffective those attempts end up: In fact, it’s more appropriate to talk about “exasperation” than “comic relief”. There are two or three effective moments, but don’t worry: You’ve seen them in other, better movies already.

(In theaters, April 2004) There is something tremendously ironic about the mega-success of this film: The first successful melding of religious fervour and Fangoria-grade gore.; the fact that fundamentalist Christians flocked to an R-rated film after decades of decrying too-violent movies; the way some critics forgot all of their usual cinematographic standards in favour of ideological confessions one way or another. It’s almost too easy to forget that there’s an actual film in the middles of the flying fur, and that it’s a flawed film at that. Oh, technically there’s few one can say about it: It’s competently directed, contains a few really nice shots, features very impressive makeup, convincingly recreates a period and is even daring in its stylistic choices. But the pacing of the film is a bit off, the story depends too much on what viewers already know (or can remember) from Sunday School and the gratuitous inclusion of a Satan-of-sorts often makes no sense. This is definitely a throwback to hellfire-and-brimstone old-school Catholicism where Jesus ain’t your buddy given how he suffered for your sins. Considering the film as a B-grade horror film is enlightening, given how the film often (more specifically during it first half-hour) goes for cheap scares in the best tradition of the genre. Alas, the gore isn’t terribly gross (well, there’s a lot of blood, but then again my standard in this area have been forever altered by Dead Alive) and Monica Bellucci doesn’t even show anything under the neck (is that a first?); that’s a waste of a perfectly good R rating right there. All in all, an interesting film but hardly an essential one; see it because everyone else has.

(In theaters, April 2004) Almost-successful revenge drama starring Denzel Washington in another very solid performance. Unlike some other revenge films, there is some real emotional content as the relationship between victim and avenger is established. It takes too much time (nearly an hour!), but at least it’s there, buried under the stylistic embellishments of directory Tony Scott. Anyone who has followed the brother Scotts’ careers knows that they’re prone to unexplainable excess, and Man On Fire attains an exasperating paroxysm of self-indulgent style. For no reason at all, the camera will jerk, speed up, slow down, cut to impressionistic passages or go wild with grain and outrageous colours. It works in some specific instances, but otherwise mauls the intent of some scenes and inserts another layer of interpretation between the viewer and the story. The only truly successful experiment is the unprecedented use of subtitles as emotional counterpoint to the action: Even English phrases are written on-screen as reflections on the action and illustrations of rage. (Overall, though, Scott’s “Deal with the Devil” short film on the bmwfilms.com site serves as a stylistic preview of Man On Fire) There’s no denying that this is a very long film. When it starts to heat up, it does the “revenge fantasy” shtick better than The Punisher (and, ironically, in a style considerably closer to comic books that the comic book adaption itself) But it’s just too long; even the elegiac conclusion could have been chopped away without much loss. Not bad, but annoying. Not good, but involving. Tony Scott is working only a tiny trip away from total madness, through.

(In theaters, April 2004) I have a bad, bad allergy to naturalistic film-making. But even that couldn’t keep me from appreciating this film, a cheerfully original piece of work that feels both fresh and gritty. The concept of memory erasure as a “solution” to heartbreak isn’t revolutionary (there are many Science Fiction stories dealing with that exact same theme), nor is the notion of Jim Carrey as a dramatic actor. But this film does wonders with both. A simple story (boy meets girl, boy loses girl, girls has boy erased, boy does same) told in an eclectic style, Charlie Kaufman’s script seamlessly delves into matters of memory and identity. As a Science Fiction story, it’s interestingly realistic, featuring ordinary people who often do stupid things and jury-rigged technology that can go really wrong. It’s also admirable how it avoids the circular pessimism that is inherent in its premise, suggesting that it’s only by learning from mistakes and painful moments that we can grow. Obvious stuff, sure, but somehow the way it’s all done makes it seem new. (Much in the same way that the muddy cinematography of the film often obscures top-notch special effects) I’m still not completely blown away by the film (among other annoyances, it sports far too many gratuitously-weird moments that don’t end up meaning much at the end) but it’s a rare piece of solid SF cinema-as-art, something that can be discussed and taken apart.

(In French, In theaters, April 2004) French-Canadian cinema is still at a stage where it’s amazed whenever it manages to deliver competent American-style entertainment. Every so often, though, it slips back into the kind of depressing introspective drama that used to pass for cinematic entertainment around here. And so Le Dernier Tunnel is a mix of both tendencies: After a long set-up describing how a master thief goes back in the crime business after a stint in the hole, the film holds its own when comes the time to build tension and suspense. While the first two acts are both sketchy (in plotting) and self indulgent (in repetitive “character-building”), the last twenty minutes are pure action cinema, complete with a CGI shot of an exploding mailboxes and a bullet-time effect. Whew! But just when you think that this is going to end American-style, the film grinds to a halt, jettisoning whatever good will it had managed to accumulate and going back to old-style defeatism. While there is a place for an ending in which not everyone gets what they want, the choice here is grating: The absence of a twist, the drawn-out finale that amounts to nothing, the lack of satisfaction after a conventional build-up all conspire to negate the film’s momentum. The credits roll, the lights go up, and the audience is cheated by a film that just lost its nerve.