Movie Review

(In theaters, August 2001) You know, it might be heresy to say so, but aside from 1995’s In The Mouth Of Madness (the finest Lovecraft story ever filmed), I don’t think I’ve ever truly enjoyed all of a John Carpenter film. While his B-movies sensibilities make him a fan favorite, they’re also an impediment to technical polish and sophisticated entertainment. Ghosts Of Mars is a step down from even the lackluster Vampires: While the opening credit sequence and the final minute are all quite good, what’s in between barely registers on the interest scale. Did we truly need another zombie story, especially if it’s brought forth so -you’ll excuse the pun- lifelessly? There is nary a chill in the vision of KISS-like undead rampaging through a Martian town. Heck, there isn’t even a chuckle to be found in this wasteland. I tried to care, I really did… but in the end, this ugly, boring, meaningless film simply refuses to be liked. Repeat after me: Waste. Of. Time.

(On VHS, August 2001) Cheap B-grade horror film that is nevertheless not quite as cookie-cutter as you might think. After all, when dealing with a killer doll animated by the spirit of a serial murderer… well… all preconceptions are off. Effective -but slightly longuish- introduction. There is a lull in the middle third, as it just takes the expected inordinate amount of time for everyone to realize that, yes, there is a killer doll on the loose. The climax is one of those ultra-extended one, where the doll gets shot, chopped, burned and still comes back for one more go at it. Not actively bad, as far as those type of films go.

(On VHS, August 2001) Killer doll Chucky (now familiar enough to be his own catchphrase) is back, after an opening sequence in which all the sacred commandments of horror movie sequels are upheld: The doll is cleaned, refurbished, repainted and… well… obviously escapes. The setup isn’t as clean nor as fun as the first one, though the general quality of the film is higher. The deaths are also more inventive in that quasi-pornographic way I loathe to enjoy. Hey, if you liked the first film, you might as well also look at that one…

(In theaters, August 2001) Whee! Six-shot guns and loads of fun! Let’s not kid ourselves and pretend that American Outlaws has anything more than superficial historical accuracy: This is an out-an-out action film with virtuous heroes, hissable villains, predictable plotting and pretty darn good explosions. Our hero here is Jesse James, and of course he’s not a bank robber as much as he’s a farmer trying to save his homestead. His friends are along for the ride, fortunately, and together they make beautiful bank robberies. Oh now, what’s that? Timothy Dalton as Alan Pinkerton? Hmm! In any case, don’t be surprised if you end up calling when bad guys arrive on the scene to set fire to the houses or capture our hero. You’re just supposed to go along with the ride and whoop it up at the Hong Kong-style double-gun action. All in good fun. Don’t mind the dialogue.

(On VHS, August 2001) One thing I hate about teen romantic comedies: Suddenly, after a whirlwind courtship in which both participants are madly in love with each other, have confessed their deepest secrets, have spent days professing their true love for one another, one of them learns that the other’s initial motive for seduction has been less than honorable. Do they say “Hey, I’ve seen enough to convince anyone that’s not true anymore?” Do they ask for an explanation? Nope! They scream betrayal and vow never to see the other one again. Apart from that particular annoyance, 10 Things I Hate About You isn’t too bad, with added points because I’m a marginal fan of the main actors. Very loosely adapted from a Shakespeare play like so many recent teen films, which gives it an interesting plot structure. Worth a look if ever you’re a fan of the genre.

(In theaters, July 2001) In a few years, whenever the gross-out comedy sub-genre is finally dead and buried, film historians will look upon Tomcats as the film that got fatally contaminated by the trend. In concept, it’s similar to The Bachelor‘s theme of marriage-as-trauma for single guys. (Except that Tomcats protagonist Jerry O’Connell exhibits more charisma lying unconscious than Chris O’Donnell ever did in his entire career.) In execution, most of the film is actually quite enjoyable. While contrived, the gags work well in a pleasantly charming way. Unfortunately, this is marred by a few sequences that borrow a bit too much from the latest excesses in tasteless comedy. One such hospital sequence lasts five minutes, is only tangentially related to the plot, will make every guy in the audience visibly squirm. By itself, said sequence takes off a full star from the film’s final rating. Cut it, along with a few other weak jokes, and the film suddenly becomes a marginal recommendation. Tomcats has a dynamic rhythm, appealing actors (with particular props to Shannon Elizabeth, who never struck me as gorgeous before, but really kicked in my strong-women-in-uniform fetish in this film. Oh, and I liked Bill Maher too, except in a wholly different way.), unexpected parodies (loved the Mission: Impossible 2 doves) and a few very strong individual sequences. (The standout remains the one that begins as my basic redheaded-librarian fantasy and ends up straight from my worst nightmares) It’s a shame that the stench of tastelessness overpowers the rest of the film.

(On VHS, July 2001) Straight-to-video release that once again proves that there are no accidents in the theater/video release rift. Granted, it’s not always bad, but then again it’s nothing worth writing about. The first few minutes hold considerable promise, as a gun-toting priest (Michael “Grrr!” Rooker) mows down a satanic sect with the help of laser sights. But right after that, we slip in an X-Files episode that flops around without Mulder or Scully and feels much longer than the 90-odd minutes running time. The creature feels less and less impressive as time goes by. It’s the kind of movie during which you can fall asleep and miss preciously little. Catherine Bruhier plays a cute female police officer, though.

(On VHS, July 2001) Mostly unremarkable music/romance teen film of the sorts you’ve seen countless times already. The interracial romance does adds a certain interest (and a small surprising hospital scene in which a few highly meritorious points are made), but that’s far from being enough to be interesting. The first hour of the film is by far the worst, as the screenwriter piles up every single cliché from romance, newly-moved, musical and gangsta teen films. Julia Stiles turns in an average performance, looking adorable in one scene and just plain boring in the next. Nothing to see here; even a free rental left me somewhat cheated. Oh, okay, you can add a few extra points if you like slow boring hip-hop.

(In theaters, July 2001) The first few moments of the film give the tone to this dark, stylish thriller, as we’re shown long close-ups of a putrefying human corpse. It eases up after that, but it’s a fairly good start to a rather interesting film, an investigation of a murder that eventually comes to uncover something else entirely. That “something else” isn’t really all that impressive (I, for one, could have enjoyed a secret cloning conspiracy by extraterrestrials, but alas, no such thing here) but don’t worry; aside from the gratuitously surprising finale, the film will hold up your interest for its full duration. Jean Reno is still as cool as ever, though here he looks particularly hideous. Young Vincent Cassel is almost as good as a hot-headed policeman with a talent for kung-fu. (Leading up to a jarringly atonal fight scene that is quite good in itself, but doesn’t seem to fit with the rest of the film) The ending is highly problematic, with a big surprise that really isn’t necessary, and does little to actually explain the events of the film. (Re-run the story in your head after seeing it, and you’ll understand your lack of understanding. Begin with the mother’s speech and motivations.) In any case, the visual style, the varied action sequences and the overall tone of the film should be enough to recommend. Just don’t expect a tightly-plotted film.

(On VHS, July 2001) Ben Affleck doesn’t work as an action hero. Nope. Not a bit. Alas, he doesn’t even come close to being Reindeer Games‘s weakest link. Oh, the film starts well enough, with ominous shots of dead Santas strewn around a casino. But then we’re in full “three days earlier” mode, bidding our time to see how we’ll end up with a truckful of said dead Santas. That’s when we meet our oh-so-bland Ben, trying to act his best in the requisite not-too-bad criminal role. (He’s just a car thief, not a murderer. Just wait, though.) In a few minutes, his partner is killed, he’s doing the nasty with Charlize Theron and a bearded Gary Sinise appears, putting a shotgun to his neck. Or is everything as it seems? Yes, Reindeer Games is another one of those preposterous thrillers whose twists and turns are thrown at the viewers just for the sake of keeping them awake, not out of any great story consistency. Watch the film again and you won’t find any foreshadowing whatsoever. (Unlike “good” twists films, like The Sixth Sense and Fight Club, when the clues are obvious once placed in context.) John Frankenheimer, who’s wasting his time with ordinary straight-to-video stories such as this one, directs all of it featurelessly. Charlize Theron is cute, but her nude scenes will quickly remind you that her best asset is her face.

(On TV, July 2001) Bless Hong Kong cinema. I was initially dismayed to see that our local multicultural station (CFMT) had decided to run this Chinese-language film without any English subtitles. The language of bullets is universal, though, and there isn’t much to understand once characters are killed and revenge must be taken. The last fifteen minutes are both touching then brutal to a degree seldom seen in American cinema. It helps that the film’s director uses a strong visual style, with evocative shots and some impressive camera moves. Can this be said to be a review when I didn’t understand more than the three lines of English dialogue? Probably not, but I might be tempted to see this one again if ever an English-subtitled DVD comes my way.

(On VHS, July 2001) The best bio-fiction entertain as much as it explains, and if Spike Lee’s Malcolm X does a credible job of showing us who, when and why was Malcolm X, it’s not nearly as successful at being entertaining. The problems start right at the beginning, as the first few extravagantly choreographed minutes are visually interesting, but set the self-indulgent tone of much of the film. The story of X advances in spurts, often spending too much time on the wrong things and telling us nothing new. At least two things keep our interest; Denzel Washington’s excellent performance, and Spike Lee’s ability with the camera. Once the story gets going, though, it’s quite engrossing. X was a charismatic and controversial figure, and the film manages to represent him as a good person while not shirking away from the more extreme facets of his personality. There is a touch too much pathos and paranoia in his ultimate downfall, but then again this is a Spike Lee film. Worth a look, even if you don’t think you’ll be interested in the subject.

(In theaters, July 2001) It was midway through the film, when it became clear that it wasn’t going to get any better, that I started musing about meta-text and contextual expectations. Granted, working with an English major colleague has warped my fragile little mind in ways I won’t soon be able to analyze, but Kiss Of The Dragon is such a switch from the usual martial arts fare that it got my critical mind in gear. Most American martial arts fans are weaned on Jackie Chan films, which present martial arts as an acrobatic, amusing choreography. To that, add what I call the American-action-movie-aesthetics, all glossy bloodless movement filmed in glorious hues and carefully sweaty heroes. Heroes are virtuous, heroines are admirable and villains possess a certain evil dignity. Then compare and contrast European aesthetics, with their claustrophobic settings, accidental grime and dripping locations. Sure, our hero Jet Li is as noble as ever, but his awful haircut is an indicator of how unpleasant the rest of the film is: gory fights, a drug-addicted prostitute heroine (Bridget Fonda, blah), uncomfortable settings… at least Tcheky Karyo brings a certain poise to his antagonist. If you want to generous, you can point at a few fun action sequences and argue that this is the best European martial-arts film yet. Unfortunately, the rest of the film plays like too many of those late-night action B-movies with the added disadvantage of being actively unpleasant. Say whatever you want about PG-rated Jackie Chan films or Bruckheimer glossy blockbusters, but at least they don’t actively work at being repulsive. Now, is that a failure of the film or the viewer? Hmmm.

(On VHS, July 2001) Anyone who’s wondering who’s the next Hitchcock might want to check the work of David Fincher and this film in particular, one of the purest thrillers in recent memory. A simple but effective hook; what if there was a game with the explicit aim to take over your life? Where’s the difference between reality, fiction and outright paranoia? Michael Douglas turns in a great performance as the persecuted hero. The look of the film is typically polished-Fincher. Unfortunately, the script that makes things so good in the first four-fifth of the film veers off toward a conclusion that is both disappointing and inevitable. Unfortunately, the heavy hand of movie magic (“That can only happen in a movie!”) is a bit too overbearing in these final moments. (And I still can’t figure out when the photos were taken) Hey, don’t take this as an excuse not to see the film; I still think it’s one of the most enjoyable thrillers of the nineties, a solid film and a great rental… but keep in mind that it’s ultimately a bit of a letdown.