Movie Review

(In theaters, September 2002) I call classic! I call comedy! I call genius! I even call for you all to rush out and get a copy of the DVD if you haven’t yet seen the “Wallace and Gromit” trilogy. A series of three animated shorts about the adventures of an inventor and his dog, Wallace And Gromit works really well on a wide variety of audiences. While their first feature (“A Grand Day Out”; fun but forgettable) leaves me mostly unaffected, their second one (“A Close Shave”; classic sheep comedy!) and the third (“The Wrong Trousers”: it even throws in a penguin!) are pure genius. The sheep-formation and toy-train-pursuit sequences alone are worth rushing out to your nearest video store. I won’t spoil anything more… just go, already!

(In theaters, September 2002) I’m a huge Jackie Chan fan, but even that particular indulgence fades fast when confronted to such dreck as The Tuxedo. A dumb premise handled without flair hasn’t stopped Chan in the past, but this time, the whole massive apparatus of Hollywood seems to have damaged his capacity to wow even the most lenient audiences. Sure, Chan’s not getting younger, but it’s about time he realized that fact on something other than a purely physical level: His character here might be sympathetic if he was a scrawny twenty year old, but as Chan has sped past fifty, his lecherous low-life antics feel all wrong for the role he’s chosen to play. The other thing that make The Tuxedo so hideously miscast is that the gimmick (a high-tech tuxedo that takes control of your body for amazing feats) doesn’t work on someone we’re already expecting to triumph over all. Owen Wilson would have been a fine lead. Ed Norton would have been a great lead. But Jackie Chan? C’mon, we’re already expecting him to beat’em all up. Surprisingly enough, Jennifer Love Hewitt is one of the few things that actually does work well. (But then again, excuse me as I once again revel in the memory of seeing her as a damp wavy brunette with glasses… okay, sorry) The rest of the film is a big dumb American action film: Few laughs, few cool scenes, stupid gags, nonsensical developments… the list goes on. Jason Isaacs (a fine, fine choice as the next James Bond) is taken out of the game way too early, the end fight isn’t as impressive as some of the preceding scenes and frankly, the film’s just written for retarded kids. The Tuxedo is, without a doubt, Chan’s biggest American dud since his Rush Hour breakthrough. Here’s hoping he does better the next time.

(In theaters, September 2002) A recrudescence of kidnapping reports in the media during summer 2002 forced this thriller to be released without fanfare, quietly dumped in theatres without much publicity surrounding it. This is quite unfortunate, because Trapped is an effective thriller, a good suspense film featuring good performances and a tight script. Kevin Bacon shines (as usual) in his portrayal of an experienced kidnapper who has perfected the crime until it becomes “a machine based on fear”. What he doesn’t know is that his latest attempt won’t go so well when both mother and father turn against him. There’s plenty of tension here, helped by a mechanically apt script that cranks the suspense like it’s supposed to do. The first half of the film is better than the second, as a “personal” motivation comes to ruin the more terrifying business-as-usual attitude of the antagonist. The film also does change tone radically in its last few minutes, with a thrilling blam-bang final sequence that teaches a few things to most of the “pure” action movies of the year. There is a lot to like in Trapped, especially when you’re not expecting much from it. Watching a nude Courtney Love being tortured by Stuart Townsend might not be anyone’s idea of a good time, but that particular scene is only one of the few interesting surprises about a film that should have done much, much better at the box-office than it has.

(In theaters, September 2002) Say what you want about this being a “Fatal Attraction teen rip-off” and you’d be right, but it doesn’t really mitigate the surprise that this is, in fact, an adequate thriller. Sure, the dialogues are lame, motivations are nebulous, plot contrivances abound and you can see so-called “developments” coming a mile away. But everything is helmed with some confidence, even some professionalism, and the overall result can hold anyone’s attention in the most basic way. Jesse Bradford manages to keep his dignity, but once again it’s baby-faced Erica Christensen (as the motiveless antagonist) who steals the show with a flashy role. Do try to ignore, though, the super-technology, the omnipotence of the antagonist and the ridiculous “artistic” touches. The plot steals liberally from every psycho-bitch film ever made, even though none of the teen characters have much of a psychological background (nor deep enough affective stakes) in order to make it work. (Act like a pretentious cinema critic, and you’ll see this as post-modern irony or kids playing stalker-dress-up. In this case, is it characters pretending to be older, or the audience wishing they were?) No surprises here, except for the fact that it plays much better than you’d expect it to.

(In theaters, September 2002) This constantly skirts the edge between being an earnestly dumb kid’s film and becoming a witty take-off for adults. Pot jokes (“My name’s Mary-Jane / Really? That’s, like, my favorite name!”), self-referential humour (“you’re only good at being captured!”) and some risky cleavage (but then again, Daphne was always the hottest) pepper the script as if someone had hastily re-written it without the producer’s consent. It’s a shame that this vein couldn’t have been pushed even further, because as it stands now, Scooby-Doo is pretty much a dud. The “Scooby-Doo” creature design is one of the ugliest things to disgrace the silver screen this year, and the film features unconvincing sets that just seem thrown together without effort. Sure, the film moves with a certain expediency and doesn’t leave you too bored until the excruciating finale, but still… I suppose it could have been much, much worse, but that’s praising the film with very slight compliments. I suppose that the DVD won’t even restore the long-rumoured Velma/Daphne kiss….

(In theaters, September 2002) This is Robin Williams’ third “evil” role of 2002, and it’s probably the one in which he disappears most completely. (While I did like his turn in Insomnia, it wasn’t all that different from, say, Good Will Hunting. In Death To Smoochy, of course, he simply let loose with his stand-up persona gone pure wacko.) The film itself is so-so, but his role is such that it’s remarkably easy to forget that “Sy the Photo Guy” is played by Robin Williams. He’s one of the few interesting things in this story of a desperately lonely man whose fantasy life threatens to spill over and actually hurt someone. The script can be lauded for not turning into a prototypical “guys goes nuts” structure, but on the other hand, One Hour Photo doesn’t do much with the elements it’s choosing to use. Some musings about the nature of memory as it relates to photography are not sufficient for entertainment, and the blurry motivations of the protagonist, coupled with his inexplicable lack of professionalism (you’d expect such a character to scrupulously cover his tracks by, say, paying for everything rather than risk his job) are a bit mystifying in this context. Then there’s a creepy nightmare scene that’s effective, but seems misplaced in the center of the film. The ending is also a bit of a head-scratcher, leaving no clear resolution to the central conflict. (to put it simply, where do you think the character is going from here?) All in all, One Hour Photo works, but just so. It’s not a fully satisfying experience, and its deficiencies can overshadow its strengths.

(In theaters, September 2002) It’s hard to see where a swashbuckling, romantic Victorian-era adventure could go wrong with Shekhar Kapur (Elizabeth) at the helm and such fine actors as Heath Ledger and Kate Hudson in the cast. But it does. It crashes miserably, wallows in interminable desert sequences and infuriates by its pretentiousness. The film is, save for one or two good battle sequences, dull-dull-dull. It’s overlong, badly structured so that the highlights are at the middle rather than the end, doesn’t present characters we can cheer for and don’t do much to erase or subvert the insufferable colonialist mentality of the time. The final battle, which should be a simple fistfight between two men, is transformed in an overblown confrontation using plenty of filtered angles, slow-motion sand throwing and a full orchestral score of Arabic influence. It gets tiresome quite quickly. Actors, director, cinematographer; all are wasted in this unnecessary film that feels about twice as long at it should be.

(In theaters, September 2002) Very gritty, dark, pseudo-realist crime drama starring (even in absentia) four generations of fathers and sons on various sides of the law. Set against a moody tattered town on the eve of self-destruction, this film wants to be an exploration of similarly-damaged characters constantly wrestling with questions of right and wrong against difficult circumstances. Am I being too profound, here? Because frankly, there isn’t a whole lot to be amused about in City By The Sea, a dour film that does its best to sap all energy out of its premise. Pretty much everything takes place at night, with haunted, tired characters that look like they could enjoy vacations. (Indeed, one of them can’t wait to get to Key West.) After Road To Perdition, this is yet another 2002 crime film trying to tie in all sort of symbolism through its fixation on paternity. It works maybe too well, bordering on a rather repulsive misogyny: All three of the film’s female protagonists are depicted as quitters who would rather completely abandon the male heroes rather than help them out. (It’s not an accident if the sunny happy coda doesn’t have a single feminine presence: They all disappeared from the story some time before.) Robert de Niro looks haggard and hurt, and except for James Franco’s beaten-up role, that’s pretty much the only standout of the film performance-wise. If you’re looking for a depressing crime drama, go ahead, have what you’re looking for… but otherwise, pass!

(On DVD, August 2002) Monster movies! You like them or you don’t. In this case, this second sequel to the already-classic Tremors falls short of the original (unsurprisingly) but still manages to pack some punch, especially for a straight-to-video release. In the Tremors tradition, it’s not bad in presenting relatively smart characters using their wits to fight off killer creatures. Unfortunately or not, it also keeps expanding the lifecycle of the “Graboid” creatures in a third stage (completing the cycle), the unfortunately-named “ass-blasters”. (no joke) Michael Gross returns as Burt the not-so-crazed survivalist, along with a variety of other players from the first feature. (Ariana Richards also returns, but it’s been a long time Jurassic Park, and she here seems to be trying her damnedest to win a Kirsten Dunst look-alike contest.) The film advances at a decent pace and delivers the expected chills and thrills but make no mistake; this is a film for the fans of the series only. Don’t apply if you haven’t seen (and liked) the first two features. The DVD features a fluffy making-of featurette, cast bios (which is useful when you don’t know these people), trailers for all three Tremors movies and not much else. Not that you actually need much else.

(On DVD, August 2002) Even people who, like me, don’t have much use for pure Shakespearian dialogue might still be impressed by this visually rich re-interpretation of the Bard’s Titus Andronicus. Savagely violent, darkly funny and constantly surprising, this is a stylistic exercise that will constantly surprise and amuse you. The images are stunning and if you can’t stand the torpid pacing, you can always push the fast-forward button on your DVD remote to see the film (with subtitles) in half the time. The haunting look of the film is a blend of Roman ruins and modern neo-fascist chic, with a touch of classic debauchery thrown in for good measure. Cheerfully anachronistic in a symbolic kind of way, Titus is also surprising by its musings on violence and the amount of gore on display. Anthony Hopkins is very strong at the title character, as are most of the other actors. You’ve never seen Shakespeare played that way, and we can only be grateful to director Julie Taynor for her vision in accomplishing such an oddball project. The impressive “special edition” DVD contains a wealth of material to help you make sense of the film’s various levels of meaning, including two commentary tracks, a good interview with Taynor and a rather good making-of which (gasps!) actually spends quite a lot of time talking about acting.

(In theaters, August 2002) I liked the first movie well enough, but I must say that I like this one even better. Everyone seems more comfortable in their roles (with particular props to Antonio Banderas for poking fun at his tough-guy image.) and it mostly shows behind the camera as the sequel is grander than the original. More gadgets, more special effects, more fantasy-based sequences and a sense of fun that doesn’t let go until the very last second of the credits. Sure, Spy Kids is for the younger crowd, but it’s got enough action, adventure and comedy to hold everyone’s interest. Kudos to writer/producer/director Robert Rodriguez for doing a big-scale film on a relatively low budget. This is big fun for all families. Get the DVD!

(In theaters, August 2002) As with writer/director Andrew Niccol’s previous movies (he wrote Gattaca and The Truman Show), S1m0ne is best considered as a fable than hard-edged realistic science-fiction. The technical details are ridiculous, and deservedly so; Niccol is more fascinated by more abstract subjects like the relationship between truth and fiction, our fascination for celebrity, our craving for comfort through self-deception and the rapport between creator and creation. It’s a lot of stuff to pack in a single film (with a few other bits here and there), but as a result, S1m0ne feels like a heady trip in fantasyland. Not everyone will “get” the film, nor even care for it, but like Gattaca and The Truman Show, I suspect that the cult following of S1m0ne will only grow with time. There’s certainly a lot of material for cinema geeks, from the throwaway gags (you saw the “eye” poster passing behind Elia Koteas, I hope?) to color composition (such as the computer-green S1m0ne poster in the otherwise organic environment of the protagonist’s office during the audition scene) and the overall overly stylized shot composition. Al Pacino is great -as usual- in the lead role, but everyone else does quite well in the supporting slots. Don’t forget to stay during the credits for Simone’s real identity (Rachel Roberts) and a funny little scene.

(Second viewing, On DVD, June 2003) I quite liked the film in theatres, but I find my reaction to the DVD a bit more tepid. Oh, I still think it’s a good film: The dazzling mixture of themes still makes me giddy with goodness and my appreciation of Al Pacino’s work is once against confirmed by his amusing performance. But what seems more obvious than before is the forced nature of the laughs in this comedy. Oh, it’s not meant to be a serious film, but the merely light-hearted nature of the film doesn’t naturally lead to frank laughter and this very particular tone, I suspect, tends to be difficult to appreciate when you’re not in a proper frame of mind. Suffice to say that a script revision could have heightened the laughs without too much effort. But I still quite like the film as it is, and I can only wait to see what else writer/director Andrew Niccol is brewing up. The DVD offers an interesting array of deleted scenes (usually cut for a good reason) and two very brief featurettes. The lack of a commentary track is almost criminal given the film’s thematic depth.

(On DVD, August 2002) Slight but charming little low-budget comedy driven by performances far more than pacing. Joe Pesci is rather good, as are most of the supporting actors. But of course, the real star of the film is Marisa Tomei, who lights up the screen whenever she appears. Her Academy Award-winning turn may mark one of the few times an Oscar’s been given for sheer kittenish sex-appeal, but I’m not about to complain given all my drooling. The rest of the film elicits a constant grin rather than outright laughter, but My Cousin Vinny is satisfying in a comfortable way. That the “stakes” of the film are non-existent (an appeal would have settled everything anyway) but that’s part of the charm, and charm is something that this film has in spades. The DVD contains few extras, one of them being a dull director’s commentary that will make you wonder how such an unfunny man can direct such a charming film.