Movie Review

(In theaters, April 2004) As a French-Canadian, I don’t really remember the Alamo given that I was never told about it in the first place. Things are unlikely to change with this film. Oh, the American jingoism is part of the film’s problems, but by no means the biggest one: Far more damaging is the chaotic storytelling, coupled with a lazy pacing that just makes one wish for a speedier massacre. Recent historical films such as The Last Samurai have proved that it’s feasible to create a historical tale that’s both clear and fast-paced. But The Alamo wastes so much time on trivialities that it struggles to keep our attention. Fortunately, a few things are worth staying awake for: Billy Bob Thornton’s excellent performance as Davy Crockett, the impressive historical re-creation of the fort and some of the final combat scenes. (Connoisseurs of camp may also appreciate Santa Anna’s over-the-top cruelty) Otherwise, well, it’s a long slog that actually gets worse near the end of the film: While a movie like The Alamo cries out for credits right after the death of the last American at the fort, this one (like Pearl Harbor) feels compelled to stretch the story even further to show ultimate American triumph. Er, no: It’s not okay to show Mexicans massacring Americans as bad and then Americans massacring Mexicans as good. Add to that the shameless hero-building (viz Crockett’s last scene), the bloodless combats, the overdone dialogues and the result is an Alamo likely to be forgotten.

(In theaters, March 2004) Let us be forthwith and say right away that this film’s numerous flaws have few things to do with lead actor Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. He does a rather good job at portraying the wood-packing hero of the story even as the script crumbles around him and the direction can’t keep up to the task. It’s also difficult to say anything bad about the cinematography when Washington State does such a good job at providing gorgeous backdrops. But the script, ow, the script… On the surface, revenge thrillers are a simple thing to write: Beat the snot out of your hero, then have him beat the snot out of the original snot-beaters. But here the script goes everywhere and anywhere, muddling the storyline, lessening the tension, using inappropriate bursts of laughter, transforming characters into plot points and doing nothing with the elements it plays with. Allow me to point out the ridiculous courtroom scene in which The Rock gets acquitted by taking off his shirt; the way a serious drug problem is solved through a funny montage; a no-nudity stripping scene which unexplainably grinds to a halt; a pacifist father who finds inner peace by shooting someone else; a French Connection-inspired car search that serves no purpose; the bare sketch of a romance; a silly mano-a-mano ultimate fight. The list goes on, scarcely helped by overeager “save-this-movie” editing that brings this film under the 80-minutes mark. Ultimately, even if the last half-hour contains a few adequate action sequences, Walking Tall is a mess of a movie whose unblinking apology of vigilantism and police brutality almost acts as a metaphor for American foreign policy. That is, of course, if you believe that “Walking Tall” can be used in the same breath as “metaphor”.

(In theaters, March 2004) After so many years of increasingly unlikely Hollywood romances between decrepit men and nubile starlets, it was about time that someone did a movie about it. Enters writer/director Nancy Meyers, along with pitch-perfect leads Diane Keaton and Jack Nicholson. For the first hour or so, Something’s Gotta Give is a whole lot of fun: Diane Keaton is frumpy-sexy, Jack Nicholson does his best-ever impression of Jack Nicholson and there’s plenty of amusing material. But then the beach house setting is discarded (breaking unity of setting), everything becomes a lot more complicated and the last act drags on for so long that viewers are likely to shout “Something’s gotta give, already!” It’s said that audiences will forgive anything as long as you give them a happy ending, but the one in Something’s Gotta Give is so unlikely that it feels like a cheat. There is little doubt that the script is about a third too long; some judicious cutting (and a better use of secondary characters played by Jon Favreau and Frances McDormand, both of whom disappear when they’re most needed) would have made this a snappier, more believable film. As it currently stands, it’s self-indulgent and often dull. But at least it’s got something to say about those creepy May-October Hollywood relationships.

(In French, On DVD, March 2004) I don’t usually respond very well to manipulative tearjerkers or works glorifying Quebec’s rural history, which makes Séraphin all the more surprising. Yes, it’s shameless in how it sets up a tragic love triangle between manly hero, selfless heroine and sadistic villain. But just as you think that it’s never going to work… it does. Quasi-parody scenes turn out well and the film is involving even as it’s playing all of the obvious cards. The lead trio (Roy Dupuis, Karine Vanasse and Pierre Lebeau) does excellent work, but it’s the cinematography of the film that steals the show; the historical re-creation of the era is top-notch, with plenty of telling details and beautiful shots. Charles Binamé’s direction is constantly interesting and even the most ridiculous moments (ah, tastefully-placed sunlight…) are effective. I’m not sure how foreign audiences will respond to a romance set in 1890 rural Québec, but even I am surprised at how well it played to me.

(In French, In theaters, March 2004) I’m not a very objective critic when it comes to this film adaptation: I’ve owned the original book ever since it came out, the writer is a good friend of mine, I worked on the movie’s preview web site (some of my copy even made it on the final web site) and I was even present at the cast and crew premiere. So adjust accordingly when I say that it’s a pretty good film. Fans of quiet horror/suspense films like The Others and The Sixth Sense are best-prepared to appreciate the way this teen romance gradually evolves into something far more sinister. The acting is excellent (with mad props to leads Marc Paquet, Frédéric Pierre and Marianne Farley), in no small part due to the very natural dialogue and crisp direction. There’s also plenty of good things to say about the film’s cinematography and polish, especially given how the crew had to work with a pitiful budget (under a million Canadian dollars) and tight shooting conditions. Hooray for digital cinema! First-time feature director Daniel Roby has a bright future in front of him: I just hope that the right people see this film and I can’t wait to see his next effort. Some viewers may not like the way the film keeps switching genres, or how the third act is a full-bore descent in darkness. Tough for them; as for me, I’m just pleased to have been associated, even so tangentially, with such a slick film.

(On DVD, March 2004) This collection of BMW short films is obviously a promotional item through and through, but when it’s wrapped in such delicious filmmaking, why complain? Collecting eight short films from eight top-notch directors, The Hire stars Clive Owen as a driver with a fondness for BMW vehicles and dangerous situations. While the cars remain a constant, the mood of each piece varies considerably, going from drama to comedy to romance to fantasy. Good stuff, and with the calibre of the directors involved (John Woo, Joe Carnahan and Tony Scott are only the first three names on the credits), each short film is a pretty spiffy work in itself. Then there are the extras: documentaries that are longer than the short films, audio commentaries, technical specs and plenty of pretty pictures. I don’t think that this is available in stores, but DVD addicts and fans of action film making will certainly want to head over to bmwfilms.com and order their copy. It’s well worth the ten bucks or so.

(In theaters, March 2004) One wouldn’t think that seeing a bunch of British retirees taking off their clothes would automatically translate in a good time at the movies. But that assumption is twice flawed: First, that’s ignoring the fact that lead actress Helen Mirren is still a fox at age 58; second, that the film is developed not like a porn movie but as a light comedy in the “Brits-take-it-all-off” The Full Monty vein. Whew! It’s not a complete success, however: Adapted from a true story, the script suffers from gratuitous drama and other forms of padding. The third act runs far too long for little payoff and it’s difficult to buy into the supposed rift between the two lead characters. It’s hard to be critical about such a piece of fluff comedy, or even to spend too much time reflecting on it, so Calendar Girls simply gets a mild recommendation and not much else.

(In theaters, March 2004) While the first film in the “Cody Banks teenage spy” series had its moment, it suffered from too slavish an adherence to the Bond formula, resulting in a film that lost a lot of interest as it went along. While the sequel isn’t all that much better, it’s somewhat truer to itself and avoids repeating the typical Bond arc. Frankie Munez is back, and charming as ever as the lead character. Angie Harmon is sorely missed as Banks’ “handler”, but Anthony Anderson does his usual buffoon shtick to good effect. While the film occasionally panders to the kiddie audience with stupid plot tricks, some grossness and silly wish-fulfilment, there is still enough here to entertain adult audiences. The violence gets tiresome, though (especially the fist-fights, which seem out of place in a film for younger teens), and this exasperation is carried over in the third act, which is slightly too long for its own good. Otherwise, there are a few good gags, a few good action scenes and a few clever gadgets. It’s not a must-see, but neither is it a must-avoid.

(In theaters, February 2004) Another year, another Ashley Judd thriller. But whereas such films as Double Jeopardy and High Crimes were formula films with moments of deep stupidity, Twisted is a deeply stupid thriller with moments of pure formula. Here, characters act like twisted puppets of a mad screenwriter who has lived on a diet of Joe Ezterhas exploitation films. Nothing makes real-world sense and people do ominous things simply to plant red herrings. Ironically enough, this “twisted” films ends up having one of the tritest endings in recent memory. Don’t be surprised if you figure out the “twist” minutes or even hours before the supposedly top-notch detective. The exasperating dialogues are obvious and devoid of artfulness or subtlety. The same goes for the acting and, heck, the cinematography: Despite taking place in ultra-photogenic San Francisco, Twisted settles for a dull series of waterfront shots and interminable apartment scenes. If you ever wanted to see a straight-to-video film accidentally released in theatres, look no further.

(In theaters, February 2004) “It’ll be like The Breakfast Club” says one of the characters at one point, which is highly appropriate given that The Perfect Score often feels like a cross between a typical teen ensemble comedy and a heist film in the Ocean’s Eleven vein. Here, the object of desire is not money or diamonds, but self-esteem and future success in the form of SAT test results. Six different students with their own reasons join up and try to infiltrate the offices where the answers are located. It’s an excuse for a teen comedy, sure, and the “suspense” isn’t as much in whether they’ll get the answers, but in if it’s going to do them any good. (It’s carefully neutered for the parental approval of all; this is no edgy morality tale, oh no) At least the film shines when it comes to the characters; while the characterization may not be all that deep, it’s adequate, and there’s good fun in seeing Scarlett Johanssen run around as a goth girl with a pink wig after her turn in the oh-so-serious Lost In Translation. While Erica Christiansen is as hot as usual with her flawless complexion (but how much CGI was needed for such perfect skin?), it’s Leonardo Nam who steals the show as the stoner narrator “Roy”. There are plenty of technical mistakes (disappearing cameras, lousy computer security, lack of police common-sense) but it’s all in good fun, with a few oddball gags (such as a shot-perfect parody of The Matrix) thrown in for good measure. The usual teen movie stuff, worth a look for brain-free entertainment.

(On DVD, February 2004) Surprisingly engaging kid’s film, partly about love of reading and the goodness of libraries. (How can you not love a film about that?) There is the usual amount of cheap kiddie pandering, ill-used “hip” kid-speak, dumb character moments and not a lot of emotional depth, but it is, after all, a film for the young ones. As such, it’s still more than good enough to hold on to any adult’s attention. The directing is surprisingly engaging (woo, moving cameras!), and the acting talent is fine. Story-wise, the “beauty and the beast” interludes are interesting, but repetitive as they don’t add much to the film: the title character remains frustratingly distant, molded as she is in a deliberately mysterious role. The DVD is a touch disappointing, offering few special features and, in fact, not even any subtitles.

(In theaters, February 2004) It doesn’t take a long time, through the leaden cinematography and the ominous performances, to understand that this is not a story that will have a happy ending. As a house becomes a battleground for a desperate young woman (Jennifer Connelly, as willing as ever to sink in an unglamourous role) and a hardened Iranian immigrant (Ben Kingsley, in a masterful performance), the conflict involves more and more victims in the spiral. Forget about antagonists and protagonists; here, everyone is a victim, and that’s never so true than at the end of the film. This emotional demolition derby ends with only one person standing. (Alas, it ends at that moment, with scarcely any nod at the aftermath) This is the stuff “dramas” are made of; it may not be pleasant to watch, but it’s unarguably powerful. The directing is sober, making ample place for the cinematography and the performances. The plot is a sadistic exercise in rock-throwing, so don’t be surprised as some of the more outlandish twists and turns; it’s not playing fair in its pursuing of pure pathos. Not a particularly good choice for entertainment, unless you seek reassurance that your own situation is not, in fact, so desperate.

(In theaters, February 2004) This is a very frustrating film. As a naturalistic, quasi-documentary representation of a high-school shooting, it’s simultaneously pointless and brilliant. Gus Van Sant is an experienced director and Elephant is never better than when it develops its chronology of events through alternate overlapping viewpoints; the camera literally follows one character, then another, then another and it eventually interlocks to forms an almost-coherent picture of what just happened in the span of a few minutes. There are delicious moments of “don’t go there!” suspense as we develop an understanding what is happening at the same moment. (Pay attention, though, and you’ll discover at least one vexing moment of mismatching chronology. Hint; follow the “we’ll be back by one-thirty” line.) Alas, the genius of the premise is not equalled by the execution: the real-time camera moves can be exasperating (“A powerful film about getting from Point A to Point B!”), there are some technical goofs (street is dry; street is wet) and not all flashbacks work equally well. Worse, perhaps, is the film’s lack of an impact: While Van Saint should be commended from turning his film in a message about something, Elephant falls into the opposite trap –to present but not enlighten. Some live, most die arbitrarily, but there is no dramatic arc, no attempt at a resolution. Even the film’s final frames leave a lot unsolved and unexplained. Good point for realism, but this is a mere embryo of what could have been done with the concept.

(In theaters, February 2004) Surprise surprise: In the rush to dismiss The Butterfly Effect as yet another career move by it-boy Ashton Kutcher, most seems to have missed the fact that this is, in fact, quite a good film. It doesn’t take a long time to realize that this is a lot darker than anyone could guess. Within the first few unnerving minutes, child abuse, murder, rape, suicide and supernatural creeps are all trotted out in horror-film fashion. It’s not pretty nor engaging, but it works; soon enough, the film presents the usual time-travel premise in a fairly original manner. But what the rather clever script does with it is progressively darker, with scant relief. Now, before anyone gets too enthusiastic, it’s worth pointing out that the film makes less and less sense the closer you peer at it: The time-travel mechanism evolves in pure wishful thinking, while the time-travel paradoxes get more obvious as multiple time-lines are spun. (The protagonist’s motivations are also suspect, but at least the other characters have the guts to call him on it) Still, there’s no denying that the film works rather well on its own as a B-grade supernatural thriller in the Final Destination vein. Kutcher himself does a good job, even though the supporting actors all steal the show as they have to incarnate vastly different versions of themselves. Often uncomfortable but seldom less than intriguing, The Butterfly Effect achieves what it sets out to do. Heck, it even pays appropriate to Ray Bradbury in a split-second visual gag.

(In theaters, February 2004) This follow-up to the surprise 2002 “black comedy” hit may not have the elegance of its prequel, but it’ll prove more than worthwhile enough for fans of the first film. All protagonists are back for a second cut, and their arc is a natural extension of the first film. This sequel certainly seems to have more money to play with, as the action regularly goes outside the barbershop and around Chicago over a period of several weeks. In a way, that’s unfortunate; the original had a wonderful sense of spacio-temporal unity, a “day in the life” in a barbershop that acted as a refuge against the cold winter. Here, it’s summer and the action hops here and there and even across decades as there are several flashbacks in Eddie’s life. They don’t all work as effectively. The other thing that the sequel has over the original is a sense of what it’s doing, but this self-awareness often translates into self-conscious showboating. The easy, unassuming freshness of the original is somewhat dulled. Then there’s the setup for the next instalment of the franchise, Beauty Shop, which doesn’t quite feel as an organic part of the story. Oh well; at least the actors are having fun and so are we. Warning for French-Canadians or other people without an ear for inner-city slang: You may want to take advantage of a subtitled version to understand some of the rapid dialogue.