Alvin and the Chipmunks

Consider, if you will, two children's films: UNDERDOG and ALVIN AND THE CHIPMUNKS. Both are Product with a capital P, lowest common denominator entertainments designed to keep the kids occupied while their parents (first run) get in some shopping or (DVD) take care of some chores. Sure, somewhere in the productions there are people who are actually passionate about the work, but pretty much everyone knows what they're about on projects like this.

The two films have similarly innocuous leads, follow predictable arcs, and have nothing to offer anyone much past age ten. But there's a difference between them, and that difference is worth noting.

Peter Dinklage plays UNDERDOG's villain, and Patrick Warburton plays his henchman. Both actors know what kind of movie they're in, yet they bring their A games to their work. They craft near-perfect kids'-movie villains, threatening but not too threatening, funny but not too funny, and they make roles that must have looked pedestrian on the page absolutely sing in production. David Cross plays the villain in ALVIN AND THE CHIPMUNKS, and his contempt for the material seeps into everything he does. There's something of a sneer in the guy's performance - it's as if, in his heart of hearts, Cross knows he's too good for this movie. It kills his scenes and hurts the picture, and it makes troupers like Dinklage and Warburton shine all the brighter.

Ok, but is the overall movie any good? Well, it's about what you'd expect: something to keep the little ones occupied while you fold the laundry. So I guess it does its job.

Crash

I wanted to like David Cronenberg’s CRASH. I really did. But it didn’t give me anything to hold on to.

The film is ostensibly about a sexually adventurous couple who enter the world of automobile crash fetishisation (Note: As far as I’m aware, so such world actually exists. But the internet is a big place. It could be out there somewhere.). It’s really about compulsion and the proper location of boundaries on sexual experience. That makes it interesting, but it fails to be engaging because its characters are too remote, its music is too remote, and even its photography is too remote.

All that remoteness makes CRASH a cold, dull experience. It’s like reading an encyclopedia article on sexuality. All the words are there, but it fails to capture the essence of the subject. At no time in the course of the film did I feel like I was watching real people have real experiences or speaking in real ways. At no time did my pulse quicken or eyes dilate. CRASH is an exercise in observation, and observe it does, but it’s more science than art. Had the film given me even one character to whom I could relate, one situation that I could even tenuously connect to my life, it might have engaged me more thoroughly.

As it was, I had to will myself to power through to the end. What a disappointment.

Iron Man

There’s a sequence in IRON MAN in which protagonist Tony Stark builds and tests his Mk II fighting suit. It’s 5-10 minutes of a guy turning a screwdriver, doing some tests, and turning a screwdriver some more. The sequence requires an actor of exceptional magnetism and charisma to pull it off, and there are only two contemporary mainstream leading men who could do it.

Which is why I think it was written into the movie after Robert Downey, Jr. signed on.

I’ve been in Downey’s camp since CHAPLIN. The guy has had his ups and downs, but he seems to have hit his stride somewhere around KISS KISS, BANG BANG (touched upon here). In IRON MAN, the guy is so charismatic, so much fun to watch, that we love him when he’s a shallow billionaire and we love him when he gets a conscience. I think it’s because Downey has so much fun with the role, and director Jon Favreau lets him run.

Downey couldn’t cut loose without a strong supporting cast to keep the picture grounded. Jeff Bridges, Gwyneth Paltrow, and Terrence Howard are every bit as good as you’d expect and, heroes or villains, they keep us believing in what’s transpiring onscreen. By the time IRON MAN becomes a third-act CGI slugfest, I’m sufficiently involved in its world that I forget I’m watching pixels and hearing foley – these are real people onscreen, and I care about what happens to them.

Superhero movies are hard to do. Just ask the people behind KRRISH. But Jon Favreau really nails it with IRON MAN. I can’t wait for the sequel.

Sergeant York

hagiography, noun, pl. -phies.
1. the writing of saints' lives.
2. a book about saints' lives.
3. (Figurative.) a biography that adulates or idolizes its subject.

Sergeant Alvin York won the Medal of Honor in WWI for killing 22 Germans and forcing 132 others to surrender in battle in the Argonne Forest. French Marshal Ferdinand Foch called it "the greatest thing accomplished by any private soldier of all the armies of Europe." Hollywood told his story in 1941, just as America was gearing up for another go at the Germans.

Gary Cooper played the titular soldier, a man who sought conscientious objector status but rogered up when his application was denied. Though hampered by clunky dialogue (“I’m’a tellin’ ya that I’m’a gonna marry ya!”), Cooper gamely played the wide-eyed innocent, relying on the same bag of tricks he’d later use in PRIDE OF THE YANKEES. He does a fine job of giving us the sinner turned saint turned hero, and he’s aided by the great Walter Brennan in the role of backwoods pastor.

But there’s a problem with SERGEANT YORK. I fired up this movie expecting a WWI drama. What I got was a roughly 1.8-hr celebration of rural Tennessee wrapped around a brief military interlude. While I understand that I was watching a hagiography, I’d have been very interested to learn about how backwoodsmen like York fit into the Army culture of the WWI era. The more I think about it, the more this movie makes me want to see a modern retelling of York’s story. What was it like that day in the Argonne? How did York adjust to his status of national hero (This version tells us that he shrugged it off and went back to farming.)? Who was this guy?

On second thought, I don’t think a movie can answer all my questions about this interesting character. I’m off to the library.

The Water Horse: Legend of the Deep

THE WATER HORSE: LEGEND OF THE DEEP is your basic “boy befriends wild animal” movie. In this case, the wild animal is the Loch Ness Monster, so there’s your hook.

I like “boy befriends wild animal” movies, and I like the actors in this one (Brian Cox, Emily Mortimer, the kid from MILLIONS and some guy who looks familiar). It moves along quite well, and it’s appealing enough to young and old that my 8-yr-old turned to me and said, “Thanks for making me watch this, Dad.” What more can you ask for?

The Butterfly Effect

THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT is so depressing, so unrelentingly bleak, that I have no idea how any film executive ever said, “This is a movie people will want to see on a Saturday night. Green light it!”

Here’s the setup: Ashton Kutcher has a profoundly terrible childhood. While in college, he discovers that he has the ability to inhabit his pediatric self and change the course of past events. When he does so, however, things get even worse. And worse. And worse. This movie is like some kind of weird exercise in excruciation, daring the audience to hang with it a little while longer in the hope that things will improve. They never do. THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT is hopeless, depressing, and a lousy way to spend a Saturday night. I wish I could go back in time and tell myself to skip it.

Snakes on a Plane

During one of his promotion interviews for SNAKES ON A PLANE, star Samuel L. Jackson said, “Look, it’s all there in the title. Either you’re down with snakes on a plane, or you aren’t.”

I’m down with snakes on a plane.

Now, make no mistake: there is no way SNAKES ON A PLANE qualifies as a “good” movie. It’s high B-grade, at best, and it boasts a blatant disregard for even the most basic research on snakes or planes. But it you’ve ever wanted to see someone take a snake in the eye, this is your movie. If you’ve ever wanted to see a giant boa constrictor eat a snotty jerk, this is your movie. Heck, you find the idea of Mr. Jackson shouting, “I have had it with these @#$%ing snakes on this $%^ing plane!” amusing, this is your movie.

Just, please, if you know anything about aviation, let it go. If you know anything about human nature, let it go. It’s snakes. On a plane. With Samuel L. Jackson.

Dig it.

THX-1138

THX-1138 is solid, ‘70s experimental science fiction. It presents with an antiseptic Orwellian world and one man, THX-1138, who begins to realize that there’s more to life than he’s been led to believe. Robert Duvall plays THX-1138, and it’s a masterful, understated performance. THX lives in a society in which emotion is discouraged, and Duvall is a master of showing us the deep currents swirling beneath his character’s calm exterior.

Where THX-1138 triumphs in the performance of its lead, however, it flounders in its actual story. Though the film begins with an intriguing vision of a dystopic future, it ends as one extended chase, going from foot to high-speed vehicle to foot again. Nothing really happens during this chase, story-wise. THX doesn’t learn anything about himself, nor does he develop in any way. It’s as if the film didn’t know where to go, but figured audiences love chases and that would do as well as anything.

So, should you see THX-1138? If you’re a fan of George Lucas, whose first science fiction feature this was, then I suppose you should. If you’re a fan of Robert Duvall, then you definitely should. If you’re neither, it may be worth your while if you find it on cable. That’s good enough, I suppose.

Transformers

If you like your movies bright and loud, then TRANSFORMERS is for you. I like my movies bright and loud, so I blocked out a chunk of time, darkened the basement, fired up the big screen, and got the surround speakers humming. I was ready to be blown away.

And TRANSFORMERS tried hard to blow me away. Lots of stuff blew up. It was very bright. And loud. But it was so unreal that I was unable to suspend my disbelief enough to care about any of the giant robots or believe, on a visceral level, that the havoc they were wreaking was anything more than a combination of pixel arrangement and foley work. In fact, during the climactic battle, I was more concerned with whether protagonist Shia LaBeouf was gonna score with the apple of his eye than I was with the fate of the world (There's something unsettling about Megan Fox, the romantic interest, btw. Since she reminded my of a psycho ex-girlfriend, I was torn between rooting for LaBeouf and urging to run far, far away.). Romantic subplots are great and all, but that’s no way to run a movie.

On the up side, LaBeouf is a likeable presence, and John Turturro was utterly brilliant in his role as a slightly unhinged Man in Black. Never before have I seen a government heavy played for laughs in an action movie such as this, and it was a wonderful choice. Every time Turturro showed up on screen, the film recaptured my complete attention, making TRANSFORMERS worth watching for him alone.

I didn't go into TRANSFORMERS expecting CRIES AND WHISPERS, but I was hoping for something more evenly entertaining than Michael Bay's latest turned out to be. A little more Turturro and a little less CGI, and this one could have been a winner.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

I had no intention of ever seeing this movie.

But one of my nephews had it and showed it to my 8-yr-old, who showed it to me.

Y'know what? I liked it.

Sure, the CGI overlays on some of the actors were wierd, Depp was wierd, and the whole thing was wierd. But I like wierd. I like Danny Elfman's music. I like Johnny Depp. I like any mainstream movie that shows some real originality, some creativity.

Did I believe in this film's worl? Not for a minute. Did I enjoy spending some time there? Sure, sure I did.

Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon

Two years ago, CHUD.com’s Devin Faraci wrote a glowing review of BEHIND THE MASK: THE RISE OF LESLIE VERNON. [It’s right here.] I banked the positive review, but I didn’t rent the movie because I’m just not a fan of the slasher genre. Last week, I saw the disk on the shelf at the local library. The price was right, and I remembered that excellent review. “Perhaps,” I thought, “this will be the one slasher movie I actually like.”

I loved it.

BEHIND THE MASK follows a team of young documentary filmmakers as they take on the subject of one Leslie Vernon, a bright and charismatic young man who aspires to join the greats of the “creative slaughter” world. In the film’s universe, Freddy and Jason and Michael are real people who, through preparation, determination, and talent, have emerged as superstars. Leslie’s just getting started, but he has all the tools: a spooky backstory, a strong work ethic, an eye for detail, and a wickedly sharp set of gardening tools.

The movie works because it so thoroughly understands and embraces the conventions of the slasher genre that the documentary footage detailing Leslie’s preparation for the big night (putting dead batteries the Target House’s flashlights, choosing the proper Survivor Girl) feels real. Further, the boyish enthusiasm of the industrious Leslie contrasts to great (deadpan) comic effect with the growing moral uncertainty of the documentarians, leaving us cheering at Leslie’s small victories while questioning our own championing of murder. When the film switches from documentary to third-person slasher in the third act, the transition feels organic and fun. We see how Leslie’s preparation has paid off, in everything from the creepiness of his mask and makeup to the strategic placement of bodies. Even so, we still feel the quickening of fear, and we shudder along with the victims.

BEHIND THE MASK: THE RISE OF LESLIE VERNON is so innovative, so enthusiastic, so fun that it makes me want to revisit the slasher genre. How bad can TERROR TRAIN really be?

Return to House on Haunted Hill

Ok, look: RETURN TO HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL is as “B” as B movies get. It’s a direct-to-video sequel to the remake of a classic B horror film that few people saw (but that I enjoyed). It stars none of the major players from the previous effort, puts the gratuitous in “gratuitous nudity” (seriously – there are random shots of naked women that do absolutely nothing to advance the story and serve only to up the film’s boobs per minute ratio) and spends more money on creature design than story development. Nevertheless, this movie is something special. To the best of my knowledge, it’s the first Choose Your own Adventure “B” horror movie.

That’s right. During pivotal moments of the story, a menu pops up and asks viewers questions like, “Should the heroine save the wisecracking good guy or get the map?” and “Should the henchwoman resist the charms of the spectral lesbians?” The movie advertises 96 possible paths through the story, though I only tried three. One of the paths, the first one I tried, got me all the way to the end. The second one cut the story short, as everyone died a grisly death. The third got me to a different ending, but without the added helping of gratuitous nudity offered by the first (Somewhere along the line, I must have chosen poorly.). If the movie had been better, I may have been tempted to try a few more options. Unfortunately, I couldn’t bear to. The acting was so poor, the story so uninspired, the villains so dull, and the motivations of the ghosts and monsters so incomprehensible that I just couldn’t take it any more.

But I must admit a grudging respect for RETURN TO HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL. It does sport some pretty cool creature designs. It unashamedly embraces its exploitative, B move pedigree. And it pulls off the branching paths gimmick pretty well, with each option a genuinely interesting choice. Is this a “good” movie? Not at all. Is it a “fun” movie? I suppose it is. But the number of journeys you’re willing to make through this particular labyrinth may be even fewer than mine.

Find Me Guilty

Sydney Lumet’s FIND ME GUILTY didn’t get a fair shake. I’m not going to argue that it’s brilliant, but it’s pretty good: it didn’t deserve its box office death. Perhaps the marketing had something to do with it. Remember all those posters with Vin Diesel dressed up as Willy Loman? At the time, I remember thinking, “How do you take a guy as charismatic as Diesel and throw all that away?

Well, the movie itself doesn’t throw Diesel’s charisma away. In fact, it relies on that charisma to get us through the true(ish) story of a charismatic New York mobster who charmed a jury into acquitting him and all of his friends in one of the biggest RICO trials to date. It works, and it does so because Diesel has the power to get an audience on his side, whether he’s playing the head of criminal enterprise, an alien convict, or a schlubby but funny gangster. I think the movie would work even better if it didn’t try to give some perspective to the proceedings by reminding us that, yes, the colorful mobsters really are bad guys and the vile prosecutors really are on the side of good. If you want to make us root for Diesel’s character, make us believe in his story, then put us in that juror’s box and convince us that he and his buddies are being unjustly persecuted. As it stands, the movie wants to have it both ways, a la “The Sopranos.” But “The Sopranos” had years to get us to know and love Paulie Walnuts. FIND ME GUILTY only has a couple of hours.

Nevertheless, FIND ME GUILTY stands as a reasonably amusing courtroom comedy, featuring a fine turn by Diesel and yet another remarkable performance from the formidable Peter Dinklage, who plays a co-defending attorney (Oh, how I’d love to have seen that Dinklage RICHARD III he did on stage a while back.). It didn’t make me laugh out loud, but it rocked along pretty well for its two hour running time. I suppose a guy could do worse.

V for Vendetta

I liked the filmed version of V FOR VENDETTA better than the comic. The comic felt like an overhyped revolt against Thatcherism, while the film makes the story more universal. While it gets in its digs at the Bush administration, the film feels more of piece with works like 1984, works which transcend the time in which they were created.

Here’s the setup: we’re in England, and things have gone sour. It’s roughly ten years after a political shift that ushered in an authoritarian government, but still thirty years or so before the system gets so entrenched that we’d be in the world of a 1984. Big Brother is everywhere, but the tvs still only go one way, if you will.

V4V asks the question, “What if someone rebelled before Big Brother could really get his hooks into everything?” In this case, that someone is an anonymous gent in a Guy Fawkes costume, a gent who was wronged by this regime and has taken is time, a la Edmond Dantes, to construct the perfect revenge. His plan? To move the people of England to rise up against their oppressors.

How he executes his plan, and how his actions affect those around him, I’ll leave for the viewer. Right now, I’m more concerned with how well the film executes its intentions; I’m happy to report that it does so quite well. Natalie Portman, the audience surrogate, reminds us that yes, she can actually act quite well. Hugo Weaving as the guy in the Fawkes costume, joins Willem Dafoe in the limited club of guys who can emote even when their face is hidden. John Hurt, who played Winston Smith in the filmed version of 1984, is a marvelous Big Brother, and the remainder of the supporting cast (including favorites Stephen Rea and Stephen Fry) also turns in professional work, without a single performance that pulls one out of the moment. The film looks slick, professional, and seamless. I bought everything it showed me, and I enjoyed the ride.

I picked up V4V on a whim – it was sitting right there on a counter at the library, and I knew I’d have a little free time coming up. I’m glad I did. V FOR VENDETTA turned to be pretty good.

Krrish

I just scouted around the internet for reviews of KRRISH, Bollywood's first big-budget superhero movie. The movie has a 100% positive rating on the tomatometer, and everyone seems to love it.

All of these people are on crack.

Somewhere in Krrish's two hours and fifty-five minutes of bloat, there's a solid little 85-minute superhero movie. Unfortunately, the filmmakers couldn't or wouldn't edit their work sufficiently ruthlessly to get to that good, fast-paced movie, so we're left with an incredibly long shampoo commercial.

Here's the setup: young Krishna is a supergenius whose grandmother hides him in a remote mountain village, far away from the eyes of evil men who would use him, if they could. The village appears to be populated by a gang of good-natured youths, a goofy sidekick, a brilliant dentist, the world's greatest hairdresser, and at least one guy who owns a gym and has access to steroids. Krishna grows up in an extended woodland idyll, maturing into an innocent gym rat with perfect teeth and hair that would put Robin Shou to shame. Oh, and he has superpowers.



Soon enough, the inevitable occurs. Krishna meets a girl, an ethnic Indian on holiday from Singapore, whose hair is even better than his.

He follows her to Singapore, where he dazzles the locals with his flowing mane.


But it isn't long before evil intervenes, and Krishna must assume a new identity - Krrish!- and save the day through the power of wind-blown locks (btw, Krrish's locks are always windblown. One of his superpowers must include the ability to levitate an invisible fan two feet from his face.).


Damn. There's slo-mo closeup of Krrish, having just risen from the sea, whipping his head about and sending perfectly lit drops of water flying everywhere. Google image search is turning up nothing.

Anyway, back to the recap. Krrish saves the world, wins the girl, and even gets a shave. There's your movie.

And it's a perfectly fine template for a movie, but it doesn't quite work. The guy who plays Krishna, Hrithik Roshan, is a skilled dancer and a fine stuntman, but his three expressions seem to be winning grin, winning grin, and palsy. The gal who plays the eventual damsel in distress (oops - spoiler!), Priyanka Chopra, appears to be more talented, but director Rakesh Roshan (Hrithik's dad, which makes the lingering shots of Hrithik's muscles, hair, and teeth kinda creepy, now that I think about it) must've told her to play to the cheap seats, because there is absolutely no mystery in her face whatsoever. It's all right there. Add astoundingly poor special effects, a score that's a direct ripoff of Danny Elfman's work on SPIDER-MAN, and the incongruous musical numbers that Bollywood demands, and you have a movie that wears out its welcome at the 90-minute mark. Had this film been edited from three to 1.5 hours, the actors would have had less time to grate; the poorer CGI sequences could have been edited out, and we might have been left with a fun, masala-flavored masked avenger flick.

But wishful thinking gets us nowhere. As it stands, KRRISH is a three hour long mess. This time around, I took one for the team.

Shrek the Third

SHREK THE THIRD ("Shrek 3," hereafter), is a joyless slog through a never ending stream of tired jokes. Sure, my kid liked it plenty, but my kid is eight years old. You gonna trust him?

Here's the setup: Just as Shrek departs on a voyage to find the heir to the kingdom, Prince Charming rallies the forces of evil to conquer said kingdom so he can, um, put on a show. Ok, fair enough. Problem is, Shrek 3 can't do anything more with this premise than it did with the two earlier, funnier installments. The fun of having fairy tales turned on their head has diminished, and this movie has little to add to that formula.

On the up side, Shrek 3 employs some terrific actors. It's always great to see Julie Andrews, John Cleese, Eric Idle, and (the surprisingly good and versatile) Justin Timberlake get work. There are no performances that pull one out of the viewing experience, though it's a shame that they're in service to such an uninspired story.

Ah, well.

Bring Me The Head of Alfredo Garcia

BRING ME THE HEAD OF ALFREDO GARCIA as a movie about constructs. More specifically, I see it as a movie about the constructs we use to give shape to our lives, and the ways in which he hold fast to those constructs even in the face of their absurdity. During the picnic, I saw two deeply damaged people trying to love each other; two people aware that a relationship was impossible, yet willing to believe in their hopes (if only for a little while).

Elita knows that Bennie knows that Garcia is her true love, and she knows that Bennie's trying to find Garcia for some malevolent purpose. Further, she knows that Bennie's no good -that no matter how much money he makes, it's all going to pass through his hands anyway. Still, she pressures him to propose to her, and she chooses to believe in her future by accepting his proposal. Later, when they're in Garcia's town, she points out that there's a church there. When Bennie doesn't so much refuse to follow through on his commitment as let it slide by him, Elita still chooses to believe.

Only when the construct is safely unattainable does Benny fully invest himself in it. When he does, he finds that the construct gives him something to live for and, perhaps more importantly, something to die for. We see this first glimmer of this fuller Bennie in the picnic scene, as he takes the first steps from nihilism to belief. Elita knows that belief will probably not end well, but she's willing to believe anyway. This is her wisdom and her strength.

Batman vs. Dracula

BATMAN VS. DRACULA retells Stoker's tale with Batman in the Van Helsing role, The Penguin as Renfield, and Vicki Vale as Mina Harker. It's a fine introduction to the Dracula story for the younger set, with the horror elements still present, if smoothed out a bit.

The animation is workmanlike, however, and the voice acting never quite captured my imagination. Further, the producers chose to make both Penguin and Joker super or, perhaps, para human, and I found that the fantastical elements of these characters detracted from the shock value of Dracula, who always works best as the unexpected supernatural player in a mundane world.

Nevertheless, BATMAN VS. DRACULA captured my boy's imagination and kept me mildly diverted. As far as kids' horror goes, you could do worse.

The Godfather, Part II

Here's the problem with THE GODFATHER, PART II: it doesn't add to the story of THE GODFATHER. Michael ends THE GODFATHER well and truly damned. By the end of Part II, all he's done is find out what hell's like. Vito ends THE GODFATHER a man of honor, by his own lights. That's how he ends here. There is nothing that happens in Part II that hasn't already been done, and done more elegantly, in the original.

So why is it so riveting? I believe that Part II's performances overcome its screenplay. Al Pacino's Michael Corleone is so interesting that I don't mind that all his character does in this film is live out the consequences of his earlier choices. Diane Keaton's Kay Corleone is so heartbreaking that I nearly wept for her. Robert Duvall's Tom Hagen is the most scarily efficient man I've seen in film in a long time. And Robert DeNiro's young Vito is everything we might have expected young Vito to be: cunning, brave, charismatic; a man who commands respect.

It's damn hard for actors to rise above their source material and bring real art from mediocrity, but this cast pulls it off. They're what make watching THE GODFATHER, PART II time well spent.

Winter Light

WINTER LIGHT is the kind of movie that convinces people who've never seen a Bergman film to never see another one.

It's quiet, it's slow, and it's 83 minutes of people thinking and talking, and sometimes the reverse. It's also quite beautiful, in a starkly Scandinavian way, as it grapples with the existential crises that mark Europe's transition to a post-Christian society.

"Eloi Eloi, lama sabachthani?" thrums like a heartbeat through this film's every scene. Gunnar Bjornstrand is a Lutheran minister who died when his wife passed four years prior. He's still giving communion, he's still counseling parishoners, and he's in a relationship with a local schoolteacher; but his heart just isn't in it. His faith had grown fragile during his ministry in the Spanish Civil War, and the loss of his wife was the final blow.

Today, we'd diagnose him with clinical depression, prescribe him something to get his chemistry back on track, and encourage him to aerobicize. That wouldn't make for compelling drama. WINTER LIGHT takes his spiritual unmooring and reflects it in the lives of what few parishioners still bother to show up for services. It gives us not just a man, but an entire culture going through the painful process of breaking away from a millenium of faith and trying to find its way in a new world without apparent answers.

This film provides fertile ground for meditation. Like most Bergman films, I think it will rattle around in my brain for quite some time.

Inherit the Wind

Here's what I like about INHERIT THE WIND: it's a courtroom drama that doesn't waste too much time with the setup. It introduces the players and the case and -bam- before you know it, Spencer Tracy and Frederick March are objecting, counterarguing, and acting their butts off for the entertainment of one and all. INHERIT THE WIND is pugnacious; it's agressive; it's funny; and it works. From supporting actors like Dick York, Norman Fell, and Harry Morgan to the surprise (for me) costar Gene Kelly, from the most perceptive observation to the most overblown speech, this is big-time Hollywood Issue-Moviemaking at its best.

INHERIT THE WIND fictionalizes the Scopes Monkey Trial of 1925. Tracy is a fictional analogue of Darrow, March of Bryan, and Kelly of H.L. Mencken, the Baltimore reporter who brought Darrow onboard to argue the case. While its arguments seem superficial and some of its characterizations rather broad, one can't deny the film's earnestness, competence, and ability to entertain.

I laughed, I thought, and I thanked God I don't live in Kansas. INHERIT THE WIND may not be quite as deep as it thinks it is, but it's deep enough to make for a pleasant Sunday evening's viewing.

Enchanted

The line has been used before, but I'm not above petty larceny. ENCHANTED is enchanting.

Everything about this movie, from casting to costumes to color palette to CGI, is perfect. So perfect, in fact, that even little boys can groove on it. Adams, Marsden, Sarandon, and Spall (the faery contingent) play their parts with delightful servings of innocence or evil or both. Dempsey, Menzel, and Covey (the New York contingent) manage to be both grounded and hopeful. Even the choice of narrator is spot on: Julie Andrews, the woman Adams (if she's lucky) might get to be when she grows up. There's danger, but no real sense of danger, the production numbers are absolutely top notch, and everyone seems to be having a good time.

What's not to love?

Audition

AUDITION is like a very special special episode of "The Courtship of Eddie's Father," one in which Bill Bixby's new romance spirals into a hellish nightmare of torture, hallucination, madness, and death. Hey, it's Takeshi Miike: what do you expect?

AUDITION begins like a somber "starting over" tale. A man loses his wife, then is left to raise his boy as best he can. After about a decade, his son's constant encouragement to find another wife finally wears him down and he hatches a plan to audition potential mates, hoping to find that diamond in the rough. He finds something that gleams, but it could be the tip of a blade. It's good setup for a movie, and Miike plays it well, investing us in his Bixby and taking his time to build the tension in the latter half of the film. If I have one gripe about AUDITION, it's the movie's overreliance on filters to set moods and create atmosphere. It's a good thing I'm not colorblind - if I had trouble seeing blue, I'd have missed half the movie.

This is a quibble, however. AUDITION is sweet, scary, horrifying, and satisfying. I wish Bill Bixby was still around for a remake.

Two for the Weekend

THE SANDLOT is lazily written, horribly acted, altogether miserable, and a laugh riot if you happen to be a five-year-old boy. It's a story about some Boomer kid in the early '60s who moves to the San Fernando Valley and falls in, improbably enough, with a pack of Babe Ruth worshippers. It was like something a guy who grew up in New York would imagine growing up in California to be. This movie made my soul bleed.


MR. SMITH GOES TO WASHINGTON, on the other hand, was surprisingly successful. As a reasonably cynical Washingtonian, I didn't expect to be taken in by Capra's paean to Americana; nevertheless, I bought it hook, line, and sinker. I think the movie sold me in a scene in which Mr. Smith has a brief conversation with a senior senator's daughter. Instead of focusing on Smith, the camera focuses on his hat. It shifts from left hand to right, gets dropped again and again, and does more to tell me its owner's state of mind than would an extreme closeup. Some movies are great because people generally think they're great. Some are great because they really are. MR. SMITH GOES TO WASHINGTON, thankfully, is the latter.

Strangers on a Train

Wow, what a terrific movie.

I knew very little about STRANGERS ON A TRAIN. Sure, I'd read the
basic setup, but I thought it was about two very evil men one-upping
each other for an hour and a half.

Boy, was I surprised, and not just about the characters. I was
surprised by the film's ability to deliver such clever
characterizations while never slowing down the action. I was
surprised by the sharp, perceptive performances. I was surprised by
plotting and framing that ratcheted the tension up and up and up,
delivering a payoff that surely ranks among the best climactic
sequences in the history of film.

I just plain loved STRANGERS ON A TRAIN. But I wouldn't give it the
time of day if it wandered up and said hello.

The Memory of a Killer

It's an old story: someone doublecrosses an assassin, and before long the bodies start piling up. You've got your good guys and bad guys trying to find the killer, and you've got your principled hit man working his way to the top, exacting revenge for the doublecross and bringing down The Man. THE MEMORY OF A KILLER, a Belgian picture from 2003, hews to this template, and it works as a character study and a police procedural. The character in question, Angelo Ledda, is a contract killer with early-stage Alzheimer's. The police procedural revolves around the detectives on his trail; and the genre-standard close calls, tantalizing clues, and conflicted detectives all play their parts seamlessly. It's a fine movie, but it's hampered by a head-scratchingly poor aesthetic choice.

TMK uses quick-cuts, flashing lights, and disorientation to indicate lapses in Ledda's cognition, but they do more than that. They annoy the the viewer. Additionally, it uses the hurry-up technique of cutting parts of footsteps and intermediate body language out of everyday events. I suspect that this is supposed to lend a sense of urgency to the proceedings, but it just gave the impression that the filmmaker's weren't sufficiently interested in the characters to let us settle in with them.

Don't get me wrong. THE MEMORY OF A KILLER (The Alzheimer's Case, in the original language), is a perfectly fine movie. But these choices relegate it to the second tier. Too bad.

The Bourne Ultimatum

A short time back, a friend of mine opined that THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM was essentially the same movie as THE BOURNE SUPREMACY. While I agree that ULTIMATUM was nearly a remake of SUPREMACY, I didn't mind. I liked SUPREMACY, so more of that jump-cut action was fine with me.

The thing I like about the Bourne movies is that they make hard stuff look hard. The fights look like real, brutal fights for survival, not staged dances. There is no graceful parkour: running across rooftops is hard, and dangerous. People breathe heavily when they've been running or fighting, and actions have resonance. This is not a world of easy death or winking nihilism. This is a world in which real actions have real consequences, and I always enjoy visiting it.

Damon, Allen, and Strathairn are all top notch, and the filmmakers cared enough to get serious talents such as Paddy Considine, Albert Finney, and Scott Glenn for some of the smaller supporting roles. Yeah, the story doesn't go very far and the film doesn't resonate all that much, but it's a fun ride while it lasts.

Happy Feet

HAPPY FEET is an animated movie about a tap-dancing penguin who teaches the other penguins in his flock how to dance along with their already excellent, if derivative, singing.

Compare this to SURF'S UP, an animated movie about a surfing penguin who travels to a tropical island to compete in a surfing competition.

Why compare the two? Because for some reason, animated surfing penguins are more interesting and exciting than animated dancing penguins. I don't know why. I find live-action surfing movies to be remarkably dull (and I surf), but I can watch Astair and Kelly movies all day long. All the excitement of dance vanishes when it's animated, however, even if I know that someone, somewhere, actually did those tap routines so they could get recorded and animated.

So if HAPPY FEET's big draw is the dance numbers, and the dance numbers are flat, what else has it got? Well it has excellent singing (Brittany Murphy, Hugh Jackman, and Nicole Kidman all lend their voices), and yet another tiresome performance from Robin Williams, who is at a point in his career in which he just has to scale things back a little. But those singing performances are hampered by the fact that they're all covers of popular songs, which subtracts from the spell the movie is ostensibly trying to cast.

My 7-yr-old liked HAPPY FEET, but I think it's no SURF'S UP. Give me surfing penguins over dancing penguins any day of the week.

Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium

MR. MAGORIUM'S WONDER EMPORIUM is a charming film that did not deserve its quick death at the box office.

Mr. Magorium (Dustin Hoffman, appropriating an inexplicable speech impediment) is over two hundred years old and owns the magical toy shop in an unnamed metropolis which I assume to be New York. I say "the" magical toy shop because, really, how many could there be? The toy shop is a wonderful creation, full of life and fun and impossible possibilities, the kind of place that adults think kids would love to hang out in (My experience as the father of two boys is that kids would much prefer to hang out in a big yard, armed with water guns. But then again, I don't live in New York City.). Its manager, Molly Mahoney (Natalie Portman, who has either grown into a downright elfin woman or has an eating problem), has worked there for nearly her entire young life and is beginning to feel that it's time to move on. And then there's Eric, the nine-year-old who can't seem to make friends but can sculpt a beautiful Abraham Lincoln out of, you guessed it, Lincoln logs. They're a happy, self-made family, but then everything begins to change. Mr. Magorium feels that it's time for him to move on, but Molly doesn't feel ready to move up. And then Mutant the Accountant (Jason Bateman, who has been note-perfect in everything, lately) shows up to straighten out the books. But how do you straighten out the books of a magical shop?

OK, so there's your story, but MAGORIUM isn't so much about intricately plotted story as it is about sweetness, and fabulous art direction, costuming, and set design. It's about the way a very small child can feel when standing before a wall of huggable stuffed animals, and it's about choosing wonder and joy. It's a lovable picture, and I loved the heck out of it.

I watch a lot of kids' movies and I wade through a lot of dross. MR. MAGORIUM'S WONDER EMPORIUM is a charming delight and a welcome change. Even if you don't have kids, this one's worth a rental.

The Game Plan

THE GAME PLAN is your basic "kid teaches parent(s) how to be adult" movie. The Rock stars as the parent, Madison Pettis stars as the kid, and Rosalyn Sanchez stands around and looks pretty. Oh, and Kyra Sedgewick is in there. She plays the deus ex machina.

Johnson's charismatic and fun. All the charisma and fun in the world, however, can't salvage a script that gives us a little monster, rather than an adorable little girl, to root for. Madison Pettis's Peyton (Yes, it's a girl's name in this world.) is so obnoxious, so overbearing, so bratty that, rather than wish for her to find her own happily ever after, I wanted The Rock to give her a good spanking.

On the up side, the unnaturally beautiful Rosalyn Sanchez is very good at standing around and looking pretty, so there's that. But that's about all this movie has going for it. Even if you have a young girl who'd fit this film's target demographic, avoid THE GAME PLAN.

Horton Hears a Who!

HORTON HEARS A WHO! is a beautifully animated, well voiced, faithful retelling of the Dr. Seuss classic. I nearly fell asleep.

Don't get me wrong. My kids loved it. Many of the people in the theater applauded when the credits rolled. It's just that I've read that story so many times that it holds no mysteries for me.

Ah, well.

Sunshine

There's a lot to like about SUNSHINE. It sports dazzling visuals, arresting sound design, and a fun twist on the reliable science fiction premise of things going wrong on a spaceship far from home. The twist, of course, is that this spaceship is on a mission that takes it dangerously close to the sun, and the star's radiation is so dangerous that it borders on tangible.

Often, a film like this will pit the feeling humanists against the cold-hearted military types. I thought SUNSHINE was going down this road, so imagine how surprised and delighted I was when the military types turned out to be right time and again. Another common pitfall of this kind of picture is a disregard for physics, and I thought that SUNSHINE handled this particularly well in the third act, when time and space get ginchy.

Unfortunately, however, physics is about the only thing right about the third act. When the movie twists, its as if the filmmakers lost faith in the inherent fascination of their premise and decided to go, instead, with a bogeyman. And then they present the bogeyman horribly, with inexplicable fuzzy-cam and at least one victim shot so amateurish that I couldn't believe it made the final cut.

Even with the disappointing close, however, I still recommend SUNSHINE. It looks great, sounds great, and is a good time at the movies for most of its run. You could do worse.

Live Free or Die Hard

LIVE FREE OR DIE HARD is the best "Die Hard" movie since the original.

Yeah, I read all the bellyaching about this being "Die Hard in Name Only." Y'know what? I don't care. I don't care about the sanctity of the John McLane character. I don't care about the formulae used in previous outings. Just tell me a story. And while you're at it, blow some stuff up.

LIVE FREE tells me a story. And it blows lots of stuff up. The scenario is actually one that folks in government worry about a lot: an orchestrated cyber attack on the US that locks up our transportation, shuts down our financial networks, and eliminates communication. Granted, LIVE FREE embellishes the magnititude and drama of such a scenario, but it also features a guy shooting down a helicopter with a car. Not in a car - with a car. So that more than makes up for it. While this is happening, McClane must "get the guy to the place," a reliable quest formula well in keeping with storytelling tradition. Speaking of storytelling traditions, this film departs from previous "Die Hard" movies in that John McLean has gone from the modernist, vulnerable American hero model to the near-invincible Northern European version. He's Beowulf with male pattern baldness, and that's ok. Did I mention that he shoots down another helicopter with hydrant water? There's also some stuff in there about reconciling with his daughter (Mary Elizabeth Winstead, an actress with a long career ahead of her) and helping the Guy He's Got to Get to the Place find his inner hero. Oh, and he leaps from a collapsing structure onto a moving Joint Strike Fighter and essentially surfs the thing all the way to the deck. Awesome.

LIVE FREE seamlessly combines CGI with practical stunts. It has well-choreographed fights and action set-pieces. Justin Long does his schtick, but it hasn't worn out yet. Timothy Olyphant, while no Alan Rickman, makes for a fine villain. The whole zips right along, and, even at 130 minutes, I never once looked at my watch. If you like stuff blowing up real good, and you like the Northern European heroic tradition, and you like the idea of a guy finishing off a deadly villain by crashing an SUV into her in a an elevator shaft, this movie is for you.

It was for me.

Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla

GODZILLA VS. MECHAGODZILLA is the best of the mid-'70s, Showa series of Godzilla films. It was made to commemorate the 20th anniversary of GOJIRA and, though it was directed by the same Jun Fukuda who made the embarrassing GODZILLA VS. MEGALON, it delivers a solid story, fun and creative new monsters, and a knock down, drag out final battle in which something is actually at stake. Sure, it defies the laws of mathematics (1-1≠1), but that's ok. It's just nice to see the big grey guy return to form.

IN GVM, jumpsuit-clad aliens, cleverly disguised as Japanese people, plot to conquer the Earth by first neutralizing Godzilla, then inundating us with bad animation (Oh, my God! They've already won! They're here already! You're next! You're next, You're next!). Ok, so I made up that last part. Work with me here - I'm trying to review that which is essentially unreviewable. Still, they plan to take over the world, they need to fight Godzilla, and they build a giant robotic Godzilla, a mechagodzilla, if you will, to take him on. Now Godzilla may be a match for the entire Japanese military, but there's something a rocket fired from a mechagodzilla finger that makes it do things that a rocket fired from an everyday, human-operated rocket launcher can't do. In fact, it represents so much danger that the film must make time for an elaborate subplot that introduces King Caesar, a monster whose design is not, thankfully, as redundant as his name. King Caesar (or King King, perhaps, in the translation) is basically an anthropomorphic lion god with a particular affinity for monarchy. When the descendant of an ancient Japanese emperor calls upon him, he rises from hibernation and joins the battle.

The battle has pop, and it intercuts well with the efforts of the human cast to confront the aliens directly. The monster suits are, generally speaking, in great shape, and the whole thing feels like an actual movie. In fact, I enjoyed viewing it, which is something I haven't been able to write about a Godzilla movie for quite some time. If I had to watch another Showa Godzilla picture, this would be the one.

That's not faint praise.

In The Valley of Elah

IN THE VALLEY OF ELAH had me right up until the very last shot.

For most of the film's running time, it's a reasonably effective portrait of a man dealing with the most devastating news imaginable: the death of the youngest and last of his children. When the man, a former Army detective played by Tommy Lee Jones, travels to his son's Army Fort to find out what happened, he learns that his son was the victim of a gruesome murder. Jason Patric (who was absolutely brilliant in RUSH - Netflix it today!) is the Army investigator assigned to the case, and Charlize Theron is the local deputy. Between them, Jones doesn't know if he's getting help or the runaround. But he's got to hold it together and try to figure things out.

So ELAH runs as a devastating portrait and a fascinating mystery. But Paul Haggis, who wrote both this and the execrable CRASH, wouldn't know finess if it shat in his Wheaties. By the end, he takes the film to bombastic ground, though Jones's performance holds the picture together. At the very end, however, Haggis includes a moment so hamhanded, so ridiculous that it spoils the whole thing.

IN THE VALLEY OF ELAH. Turn it off with about five minutes to go, and you'll find it a fine film. Stick to the credits, however, and you'll throw your shoe at the screen. Bah.

Zoom: Academy for Superheroes

ZOOM: ACADEMY FOR SUPERHEROES is a bitter, cynical movie by and about bitter, cynical people.

It stars Tim Allen as a bitter, cynical former superhero who is kidnapped by bitter, cynical U.S. government operatives and forced to train four unlikeable white kids with superpowers. Do Allen and the kids bond, learn to harness their powers, and both show up the gov’t and overcome the world-threatening villain? C’mon – was this movie made by bitter, cynical people? Of course they do. That’s the formula.

That’s not to say that formulae are bad, as long as they’re executed well. ZOOM is not executed well. Its jokes are lame. Its villains are lame. Its heroes are super lame. Even its special effects, which should be a no-brainer with a major studio film, are lame. This is the movie that gets wrong everything that SKY HIGH got right. Don’t even bother.

Godzilla vs. Gigan

GODZILLA VS. GIGAN is one of the weaker entries in the late '60s - early '70s Godzilla ouvre (Yes, I just used the word ouvre in a review of a Godzilla movie. Sue me.). The monster costumes look worn, the story is boring, and even King Ghidorah can't bring a sense of fun or adventure to the proceedings.

How weak is it? I repeatedly checked my watch during the climactic battle, which seemed like it went on forever. If there's one thing a Godzilla movie is supposed to be about, it's the climactic battle. If a picture can't even sell this one crucial element, it is well and truly lost.

What's the story? I saw this picture a couple of days ago, and already I can barely remember it. Something about aliens taking over the world using Gigan and King Ghidorah, and Godzilla getting in there and saving the day. But the movie just doesn't sell it. The acting is ghastly, the production values low, and the whole thing a general embarrassment.

If you're a Godzilla completist, go ahead and knock yourself out with GODZILLA VS. GIGAN. Otherwise, steer well clear. This thing is a monstrous failure.

Stardust

I just plain adored STARDUST.

It's a Maguffin chase / coming of age story in the world of faerie, but with a twist. The Maguffin is a fallen star; but in this world, fallen stars walk, talk, and look an awful lot like Claire Danes. Where do I sign? The comer of age is a young man (Charlie Cox), who crosses into Faerie to retrieve said star as a token of his love for one Sienna Miller, the prettiest girl in town. But he's not the only one who wants her. There's Michelle Pfeiffer as a refreshingly old-school, ruthless witch who wants to cut out her heart and eat it. And there's Mark Strong as a son of the king: he wants to cut out Claire's heart [i]and[/i] steal her jewelry. And what about the pirate with the familiar-looking mole on his cheek? What's he up to, anyway?

So here's a movie that gives us a number of different threads, managing lightly to skip among them without getting tangled in them. Its villains are menacing without being terrifying, its love interests are well and truly lovable, and it manages to gain and maintain and sweet, lighthearted, wonderful tone from beginning to end.

It's no secret that I'm a sucker for writer Neil Gaiman's artistic viewpoint, and he doesn't disappoint with STARDUST. In a week in which I've been hammered with two dreary movies masquerading as adventures, what a delight to find an adventure as joyful, as imaginative, as lovely as STARDUST. What a winner.

Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End

PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN: AT WORLD'S END (POTC 3, henceforth) isn't very good. It wants to be an exciting, family-friendly adventure, but it begins with the hanging of a child. Now, I now that to somebody in Studio City, nothing says "entertainment" like the twitching feet of a dying juvenile. But I hate to break it to you, buddy: you hamstrung yourself very early on. The stakes are too high here, the villains too villainous, the deaths too real for POTC 3 to be fun. Yet this is a POTC movie, not NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN, so it's not like you were going to sell it as a drama.

Early pall aside, POTC 3 makes no sense. It would have us believe that Pax Brittania was a bad thing, that the world is much better off with pirates disrupting the global economy than with trading vessels being able to ply the seas, and that the life of a felon is somehow noble. The earlier POTC movies at least kept the pirates morally ambiguous - here, they're good guys who do a little raping and pillaging in their spare time.

And yet, POTC 3 does have some things to recommend it. The performances are great fun, with Geoffrey Rush and Bill Nighy chewing the scenery with gusto comparable to Johnny Depp. The special effects are magnificent, and the set design is out of this world.

If only the movie hadn't gone so dark so early, it might have swept me away. Alas.

Local Hero

In his review of LOCAL HERO, Roger Ebert writes, "Nothing is more absorbing than human personalities, developed with love and humor." Mr. Ebert is absolutely right, and LOCAL HERO delivers this with just the right mixture of wisdom and generosity.

LOCAL HERO is the sweet, almost whimsical tale of a young oil company negotiator, the seaside Scottish village he's sent to buy, and the love affair between them. I went in half dreading an anti-industrialization screed, but LOCAL HERO knows what it's about far too well to fall into such a simple and obvious trap. Instead, the film uses its running time to create a sense of people and place, allowing us to observe them and it as the negotiator (Peter Riegert, in a role that makes me wonder whatever happened to Peter Riegert) falls in with the village's rhythms. It's a comedy, but not of the knee slapping variety. It seeks to share a smile with us as we cluck over the people we love, and it seeks to make us feel at home in a place we've never been.

There's nothing in LOCAL HERO for my inner adolescent, but my inner adolescent is in time out after leading me into RUSH HOUR 3. LOCAL HERO is the perfect antidote to that inanity: a charming, thoughtful, observant picture about human personalities, developed with love and humor. As Mr. Ebert says, nothing is more absorbing.

Rush Hour 3

Move over, EVAN ALMIGHTY. You have competition for the title of "Worst film of 2007."

At least EVAN ALMIGHTY cared enough about its viewership to condescend to it. It's the filmic equivalent of Meryl Streep telling us to think about the children. By comparison, RUSH HOUR 3 is a three card monte dealer. It's bilking the suckers and moving on, never looking back. I saw it at 3:00 am on an intercontinental flight (Side note: Gulf Air flight attendants wear "I Dream of Jeannie" veils. It's adorable!), so at least it didn't take my money. It did cheat me out of viewing LARS AND THE REAL GIRL, however, so I can at least hate it for that. I think.

Here's the hook: Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker team up once again. This time, they're fighting -- aww, who the hell cares? They're fighting Standard Villain #4, telling lousy jokes, and sleepwalking through the entire film. There are no funny jokes. There are no interesting stunts. There is absolutely no reason whatsoever to see this film, and this is coming from a die hard Jackie Chan fan.

What a disappointment.

Michael Clayton

MICHAEL CLAYTON's biggest sin is that it's just plain boring. The film gives us no reason to root for George Clooney, Tilda Swinton, or anyone else in the film. I didn't care about this guy's life or his problems, and I wound up shutting off the movie right around the beginning of the third act.

Will someone tell my why this is getting critical acclaim (says the only guy on Earth who doesn't hate ZARDOZ)?

Gone Baby Gone

Since I'm unfamiliar with South Boston, I can't comment on the veracity Ben Affleck's vision of that locale and the people who live there. I can, however, say that his portrayal felt sufficiently true that it almost made me forget that I was looking at actors, as opposed to real Dorchester residents.

I say "almost" because right there, in the middle of the movie, there pops up the perfect complement to "The Wire" veteran Amy Ryan: Omar himself, one Mister Michael K. Williams. Here, Williams plays a straight-shooting cop and deliverer of inside dope to hero Casey Affleck. One can hope that, should GONE BABY GONE inspire sequels, Williams's role will grow.

But that's neither here nor there. What matters is that, with GONE BABY GONE, Ben Affleck has gone and crafted a genuinely excellent film. Here's a movie that I thought was finished around halfway through, then took me into completely unexpected territory. Maybe I'm a sucker, but I didn't see any of the later developments coming, and I appreciated the ride and the director's faith in that ride.

GONE BABY GONE looks great, or as great as I suppose South Boston can look. It's well written, well shot, and well performed. Good on you, Mr. Affleck.

The 3 Worlds of Gulliver

THE 3 WORLDS OF GULLIVER is a bright, colorful, child-friendly telling of the Lilliput and Brobdingnag portions of [u]Gulliver's Travels[/u]. Ray Harryhausen handled the special effects far and Kerwyn Matthews offers yeoman's service in this rendition, and it works for its intended audience.

I've managed to get my boy into silent comedy, [i]kaiju[/i], and classic monster movies, but I've been having trouble with those films from what I think of as the "technicolor era." Those riotously colorful pictures from the late '50s and early '60s have a lot to offer, but something about them has been putting him off. Not so with THE 3 WORLDS OF GULLIVER. The bright palette complements the broadly drawn characters, and the broadly drawn characters entertain and (God forbid!) teach.

Is there much there for mom and dad? Not really. If, however, you consider providing introductions to Jonathan Swift and Ray Harryhausen part of your parental duties, this picture kills two birds with one stone.

You could do worse.

The Apple

I’m having trouble getting a handle on THE APPLE.

It’s a rock opera telling of the end time story of the Book of Revelations. It was produced by Yorum Globus and Menachem Goldman (who later made a great deal of money producing cheesy ‘80s action films under their Cannon shingle) and directed by Goldman, with George Clinton helping out with musical duties. It equates David Bowie’s classic glam rock, gender-bending schtick with the Devil, and makes hippies the 144,000 (The same actor plays both the hippie leader and God, who manifests himself to the flower children as the driver of a pimped out Cadillac.). I can only assume that nearly everyone involved with the film was coked out of their minds during the entire production cycle.

Here’s your synopsis: a couple of really sappy ‘70s balladeers (basically The Carpenters, but with less talent. A lot less talent.), get noticed by the Devil, who owns a music company so powerful that it actually controls the government. Mr. Boogaloo (who would later go on to electrify the world of break dancing) tries to seduce the wholesome songsters into the evil world of glam rock, but only one of them bites the (literal and figurative) apple. You can guess which one. From there, it’s a short hop to everyone but the hippies wearing the Mark of the Beast, the fallen seeking forgiveness, God rolling in in that ghastly, tacky Cadillac.

That’s your story, but this is a rock opera. How are the songs? They’re horrible. Unlistenable. Ghastly. Um, really, really bad. The folkies suck. The glammers embarrass themselves. There isn’t a single hummable tune in the whole thing. In fact, the production numbers are so bad that even though they’re the reason for the film’s existence, they feel like interruptions.

But what is THE APPLE trying to tell us? Here’s a movie about Revelation, made by a couple of Jewish guys, that feels like an unholy alliance between the Christian Coalition and the Chicago Seven. It’s the product of a metropolitan film and music industry that feels more at home in Early-‘70s Middle American sexual discomfiture than the free love ethos of the hippies it sanctifies. It stands for nothing that I can see, leaving it a weird mishmash of messages, images, and bad music.

THE APPLE has absolutely nothing to recommend it, whatsoever. Nevertheless, I respect a movie like this more than EVAN ALMIGHTY, my current example of the archetypical mass market product. Golan and Globus failed, but they failed greatly.
There’s some honor in that, at least.

Eastern Promises

What a pleasure to watch a great artist at the top of his game.

David Cronenberg is one of the filmmakers who showed me that the medium could be used for more than assembly-line product. From VIDEODROME to THE FLY to DEAD RINGERS to NAKED LUNCH, here was a guy who was willing to tackle uncomfortable and difficult subjects through characters who felt like real people. Cronenberg made honest, artful but not artsy, films of which anyone could be proud.

He didn’t always connect with popular audiences, however, and it seems that he tried to appeal to mainstream adults with his last two films, the brilliant A HISTORY OF VIOLENCE and his most recent, EASTERN PROMISES. Thing is, for a guy as skilled as Cronenberg, appealing to a mainstream adult audience and selling out are not the same thing. Rather, he has figured out how to make challenging, adult fare with broad appeal. These last two movies are as serious, as legitimate, as anything he’s done. They also pop, keeping the viewer engaged and enrapt from beginning to end.

With EASTERN PROMISES, he kept this viewer engaged and enrapt even after the end. Though this film tells a complete story, that story is one of a chapter in the lives of its characters. But these characters, played by a stellar cast including Viggo Mortensen, Naomi Watts, Armin Mueller-Stahl, and Vincent Cassel, are so compelling that I’ve been spending much of the last 18 hours thinking about how they came to the beginning of the film, and where they went after the ending.

Here’s the hook: Watts is a midwife in a London hospital. When a young Russian prostitute dies on the birthing table, Watts finds the diary in the prostitute’s handbag. Hoping to find the girl’s relatives and place the newborn infant, she has the diary translated. But young Russian prostitutes are not independent, and soon Watts has the attention of the Russian mob. Enter Mortensen, a low-level driver in the organization, and we’re off.

Watts gave a masterful performance. I completely bought her as a lower-middle class Londoner, just as I completely bought Mortensen (also brilliant in HISTORY) as the Russian driver. Speaking of performances, both Armin Mueller-Stahl and Vincent Cassel, both cast against type, absolutely shine in this film. If you’re going to perform on this stage, you’d better bring your A game. They do, and the doubt and unpredictability created by going against the viewer’s expectations of these actors pays off wonderfully well.

I started these comments with my closer, so I can only reiterate it. I would, however, like to add a small explanation of my choice of words. Mr. Cronenberg has worked with the same people for years. The same crew, the same costume designer, the same composer. As far as I’m concerned, they’re all great. There are so many talented people involved in creating a film, however, that it’s easier to anthropomorphize the entire process in the form of one individual, the director, than to detail the individual contributions of all those involved.

Perhaps I should have written that it’s a pleasure to watch great artists at the top of their game. It’s just as true. EASTERN PROMISES is well worth seeing.