Movie Review

(In French, On TV, September 2003) Luc Besson has turned in a one-man co-producing machine these days, and like with most people who overreach, the quality of his films has spiralled downward. Yamakasi is one of the lesser work attached to his name, a satisfying crime story starring disenfranchised inhabitants of the French suburbs but not much more than that. The problem is that for all of its “The Modern Samurais” tagline, Yamakasi stars petty thieves, and there’s not much that’s noble in stealing rich people to pay for a medical procedure. (C’mon: it’s really cheap emotional manipulation!) In many ways, it’s a thinly-veiled “extreme sports” film with a thin plot covering action scenes, in this case “urban climbing” where people simply grab the nearest building and go to the top. Unfortunately, it’s curiously tepid when comes the moment to show some action: one sequence involving hopping thieves and attacks dogs in a two-floor lobby sticks in mind, but the rest isn’t all that memorable. Once again, the Besson-penned script features dumb dialogue and knee-jerk populist rich-bashing (including the requisite digs at politicians, always a popular target in France) which gets to be tiresome when there isn’t much substance elsewhere in the plot. There’s a certain narrative energy, mind you, and a somewhat satisfying conclusion. I also quite liked the ethnic diversity of the cast, especially when it mean we get to look at Tunisian-Egyptian hottie Amel Djemel. But none of this makes Yamakasi worth a bother, so you might as well just wait until it plays on TV one weekend and just avoid changing the channel.

(In theaters, September 2003) Well, that’s a surprise. After a less-than-fantastic first starring role in The Scorpion King, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson strikes back as a cook/henchman in The Rundown, and is lucky enough to find himself in one of the best adventure buddy-comedies of the year. That’s not meant as overwhelming praise, but then again this is the type of film that works well because it’s so surprising. The fun begins in the very first scene, as the protagonist slaps down a football team in order to accomplish his mission (“Can’t we do it some other day? I thought they had good chances this year.” he first warns) While the quick-cut action direction isn’t particularly endearing, it quickly sets up the fun tone of the film and later cedes way to some amazing computer-enhanced shots in which characters get pummelled from multiple angles. Those latter fight scenes (The many-on-one jungle brawl, mostly) are filmed in a manner reminiscent of a hyped-up Jackie Chan film and represent another of the film’s happy surprises. Seann William Scott isn’t particularly surprising, but he does much better here than in the lukewarm Bulletproof Monk. The luscious Rosario Dawson also has a good turn as a bartender/rebel leader, but no one -of course- comes close to the genius of Christopher Walken, who transforms a regular antagonist role into something very special. (“There’s been a… complication, a… twist in the plot…”) While The Rundown has its share of silly, stupid or insipid moments (I’ll pass on the monkey business, except to say that the use of monkeys is once again confirmed to be an act of creative desperation), it succeeds more often than it fails and the overall result is a lot of fun.

(In theaters, September 2003) Yes, señor! El Mariachi is back in the biggest instalment of the trilogy. This film may not be a purely operatic as Desperado, but it’s certainly a lot more epic, what with criminals, policemen, soldiers, mercenaries, the FBI, the CIA and the DEA all gunning around during a coup to take control of Mexico on the Day of the Dead. Fans of Robert Rodriguez don’t need to be told why they should rush to see this film. Once again, Mexican/western imagery is married with Hong Kong style to produce an action film that runs on pure atmospheric adrenalin. Antonio Banderas is cooler than ever as the iconic “El”, but Johnny Depp owns the film as an unhinged American agent. (Few other people would be able to get away with such classic lines as “Are you a Mexican or a Mexican’t?”) Salma Hayek makes the best of her limited screen-time (the trailers lie to you), whereas nearly all of the other players (including the sultry Eva Mendes and the wonderfully rough Danny Trejo) also turn in very good performances. Only Willem Defoe looks out of place in a role that doesn’t give him much to do. The rest of the film is all sick black humour and unlikely stunts, with terrific cinematography and quick pacing. It’s not for everyone, obviously, but it’s a lot of fun for those who like that style of film.

(Second viewing, On DVD, March 2004) Robert Rodriguez fans already know that the man can’t make an uninteresting film and that the supplemental material on his “special edition” DVDs are often more interesting than most movies. So it is that the DVD of this third segment in the “El Mariachi” trilogy is jam-packed with fascinating extras and plenty of information on the wonders of digital filmmaking. The film itself is still a lot of fun, in an operatic vein that seems so fresh after countless average action films. But the early 2001 (!)guerilla-style making of the film, using unproven digital technology, proves to be as fascinating as the end results. “Film is dead” is the title of a fascinating featurette included on the DVD, and it’s hard to remain unconvinced after seeing the excellent results. Other featurettes complete the package, along with an excellent audio commentary by the director. Extra fun is included in the form of a hilarious “ten minute cooking school” and an excellent tour through Rodriguez’s Troublemaker Studios, located (where else?) in his refurbished garage. Once again, cinephiles and budding directors will find their money’s worth in this DVD.

(In theaters, September 2003) It’s easy to dismiss this film as just another in the “Canadian ethnic sitcom” category best-represented by My Big Fat Greek Wedding, but there’s a lot to like about Mambo Italiano, from its hip cinematic beginning to the unconventional ending. A leading contender for the title of “most innocuous gay-themed movie ever made”, Mambo Italiano leaves no comedic stone unturned at the intersection of Italian-Canadians, gay men, dysfunctional families and neurotic siblings. (Claudia Ferri steals every scene she’s in as a typical sister with problems) It’s all quite charming, even though the rhythm of the film’s first thirty minutes isn’t sustained and slowly steers in more dramatic territory. The third quarter of the film is markedly slower, but it picks up for a spirited finale. No, it’s no classic for the ages, but it’s more than able to hold its own against non-Quebec productions. There are plenty of good performances, plenty of good jokes and plenty of good fun. The language may be a touch too crude at times for this to be a film for the whole family, but it’s certainly charming enough to be of interest to a large public.

(In theaters, September 2003) The best thing about Director Eli Roth’s first feature is how it sticks to the basics of old-school teen horror: This forest-cabin tale brings back memories of the first Evil Dead films, but the schlock treatment is classic eighties: some nudity (Yay for Cerina Vincent!), a lot of bloody effects, a downbeat ending and incredibly sadistic jokes make Cabin Fever a straight throwback to a certain school of B-grade horror films. This is not to say that the film is without problems, though: For all comparisons with the Evil Dead films, Cabin Fever remains desperately pedestrian, with only a few restrained scares in its arsenal (Just a flesh-eating virus? Bah!) and not much in the way of comedy until the very end, where the film takes an abrupt and sustained turn in black humour. The plotting also has its share of deeply dumb moments, with bad luck being a constant player in whatever happens to the characters. Some of it works (“Have you seen my cousin?”), some of it doesn’t (“That’s my wife!”) and some of it is just weird (“Pancakes!”) Mostly of interest to the horror fans, I suspect that Cabin Fever will be best-remembered as an early work in Roth’s career, if not an minor embarrassment to a few of the younger actors when their career take off.

(In theaters, August 2003) Everything about this film (trailer, poster, cast) screamed “generic action film” and indeed, the end result is almost a prototypical Hollywood product. There isn’t much that’s overly noteworthy about S.W.A.T., beginning with the actors’ performances. LL Cool J, Samuel L. Jackson, Colin Farrell and Michelle Rodriguez all play roles that aren’t dissimilar to their typecasting so far. (On the other hand, Rodriguez gets to smile and wear her hair down—once; it’s like a gift from the gods) But there’s a real pleasure in seeing these actors play their own archetypes, and this pleasure certainly carries over the rest of the film, which hits pretty much all of its objectives. This look at the L.A.P.D.’s elite force may not be particularly strong in the realism department, but it makes the obligatory action sequences feel more far more organic than in other similar films. One of the shining facets of the script (co-written by David Ayer, who’s quickly acquiring a reputation as L.A’s foremost cop writer after Training Day and Dark Blue) is how willing it it to explore the failures, and so we get a botched escape attempt and an unsuccessful recruitment attempt. This interest for the useless and the usual is often taken too far, though, as with pointless romantic scenes and quite a few sequences that drag on for far too long. The end product clocks in at more than two hours, at least fifteen minutes too many. In the hands of a more efficient director, one who truly understand action, this would have been quite a film; right now it’s just adequate. Fun, but not particularly memorable: A good-enough moment for just about everyone.

(Second viewing, On DVD, April 2004) Take a “generic action film” rubber stamp and apply it on this DVD. While S.W.A.T has a generous number of interesting moments and fun set-pieces, it never achieve anything memorable. Fine actors; fine direction; fine effects, cinematography and soundtrack. But is it anything more? Naah. At least the DVD can rely on the film’s solid tech credentials to liven things up, from a fascinating feature on sound design to an “anatomy of a shootout.” Also fascinating are the two audio commentaries; the first is with the director and most of the actors, with plenty of sarcasm from Michelle Rodriguez and the usual assortment of quick shooting information from the director. Far more interesting is the sparse second commentary, which brings together several of the screenwriters of the film, some of whom had never met through the film’s lengthy production history. The result is kind of a round-table discussion about blockbuster screenwriting, with plenty of inside bitching and some supplementary information on Training Day and American History X. Fascinating stuff, especially for anyone interested in screenwriting. Certainly more unique than the film itself.

(In theaters, August 2003) Can you say “cookie cutter”? I knew you could. Now, can you say “defective cookie cutter”? The problem with this Jackie Chan film is not that it’s essentially a rehash of many other films of his, but that its lack of originality is not compensated by anything else. For a putative “comedy”, it’s not quite funny (and it’s even worse when it does try to be funny: Yes, Lee Evans, I’m talking about you), it doesn’t develop its characters and it stumbles on amusing moments more than it creates them. (The least said about the “extra” sound effects, the better) The Medallion is frustrating in that even though the direction has some inspired moments, they’re undermined by the uncomfortable staging, by-the-numbers plot and overall lack of spirit. What about the wife with the secret identity? We want a pay-off! Action-wise, the influence of wire-fu is obvious, but even that can’t really raise the level of action above a certain hum-drum adequacy. Battles between super-powerful immortals should be more exciting, damnit! Jackie is getting old, and he has certain reached the age when pairing him with a nubile twenty-something (Here: the wonderful Claire Forlani) is getting yucky rather than romantic. Stop it before it reaches Woody-Allen levels of ickiness! Other aspects of the usual Chan personae are also failing: his goofy antics are increasingly out of sync with his age. Maybe it’s time for a career re-alignment, as far away from Hollywood as possible given the American industry’s tendency to produce clunker (Rush Hour 2) after clunker (The Tuxedo) for him. We love ya, Jackie; we just wish you were in better movies.

(In theaters, August 2003) While the trailers are trying to sell you this movie as a romantic comedy and the critics are trying to tell you this is the most wretched thing in ages, the truth lies somewhere in between. It’s a low-octane crime “comedy” in which a dumb thug and a lesbian hit-woman fall in love while they sequester a mentally retarded young man. For most of the film, it’s just a dull piece of dull cinema, hampered by a bad script, no visible sense of humour and two leads who do nothing to deserve our sympathy. Only during the last half-hour does the film truly turn offensive, milking every second of its turgid conclusion like it was pure gold rather than the torture it evolves into. Two gory scenes played for laughs do nothing to focus this scattered miscalculation, through stereotypical cameos by actors such as Christopher Walken and Al Pacino offer some balm for our pain and suffering. There have been more obnoxious movies that Gigli this summer (Legally Blonde 2 springs to mind), but few that manage to reach such a level of uselessness. Jennifer Lopez tries too hard to be sexy (and, amusingly enough, fails for the first time in many movies) while Ben Affleck offers no particular depth to his obtuse character. The real villain, though, is writer/director Martin Brest, who delivers a film that has all the sexual sophistication of its retarded character. Don’t stay for the credits; just when you think the movie can’t hurt you any more, it reprises the vomit-inducing retarded acapella version of Sir Mix-a-Lot’s “Baby got Back”. After that, one can almost wish for a painful death for everyone associated with the production.

(On DVD, August 2003) Fans of angels tearjerkers are sure to go gaga over this latest Tom Shadyak schmaltz-fest (it’s like Patch Adams, except with less laughs and more dead people). Others, like me, are unlikely to be impressed. While the hackneyed story would have had a certain interest at, maybe, “Twilight Zone” lengths, it more than overstays its welcome at 106 minutes. The outline of the story is obvious from the get-go, and so is the conclusion. Worse; the third act is stretched over an interminable 30 minutes despite an almost total lack of content. I suppose that this is scarcely of importance to people interested in this kind of feel-good life-after-death formula film. Kevin Costner isn’t too bad as the protagonist, and that assessment stands for most of the other actors.

(On DVD, August 2003) There seems to be an insatiable appetite for twisted multi-generational family redemption stories and this film is only another one of those. Characters hate each other, bicker, are forced in strange circumstances and discover things about their past. The conclusion is usually preordained. What saves this film from triviality is the impressive acting talent featured for the occasion (with a nod toward the uncommon number of, er, “mature” actors assembled here) as well as the occasional sharp dialogue sprinkled here and there. It’s a sympathetic film if not a very substantial one, and your overall liking will probably notch a point or two above or below depending on your personal tolerance for this kind of stories, set in a southern United States setting and starring Sandra Bullock. Oh, and repeated cries of “Ya-ya!” –which, truth be told, can be more addictive than the film itself.

(In theaters, July 2003) If you like your movies with plenty of formula sugar, this is the film for you. Brittany Murphy doesn’t stretch any acting muscle by playing a slutty rich airhead with a heart of gold, and if Dakota Fanning isn’t too bad as a precocious eight-year-old, she can’t save the rest of this film from a quick slide in mediocrity. Uptown Girls isn’t bad as much as it exemplifies everything wrong with Hollywood movies that wallow in an “uplifting” false depiction of reality. The script thinks of itself as being clever, so naturally every single line comes back later to mean something important, further heightening the banal unreality of the script. Everything reaches a diabetic climax in the last few minutes, as we’re efficiently shoved in a feel-good ending that doesn’t mean much (and which can be guessed minutes in advance.) There are no sympathetic characters in this movie, only caricatures saying predetermined lines. You have already seen this movie dozens of times before. It is wholly unremarkable.