Mongol

MONGOL does almost everything I want a movie to do: it takes us to a different time, a different place, and a different culture. It educates and entertains, and it does so by giving us interesting people living in interesting time. I invested in the film's hero, Temudjin, and his family. I wanted them to overcome the odds against them and emerge victorious, and I was happy when they did so. (Hey, it's a biopic. They don't make biopics about people who get killed in their teens. Surely, that can't count as a spoiler.)

However, MONGOL does one thing I never want a movie to do: it makes me scratch my head and wonder, "What were they thinking?" Why does the film show us a young Tamudjin falling through the ice on a frozen lake, yet never shows us his escape? Why does the film go to such lengths to underline the brutality and unrelenting nature of his (one-time) captors, only to give us an (apparently) magical deliverance and expect us to believe the captors simply lost interest in him? Why does a movie that expects us to accept that Tamudjin can survive upwards of four years in a tiny cage also expect us to believe that he can emerge from that cage ready to fight, climb, run, and love? Why do the filmmakers go out of their way to explain that Tamudjin wins his climactic battle through strategy, then show us only the first phase of the strategy before turning to what can only be considered divine intervention?

Now, I'm not normally one for head scratchers. I'm willing to go along with what a movie has to give me. But these omissions and errors blew my suspension of disbelief. While MONGOL is a fine costume drama / National Geographic special, I think it could have benefited from one more pass at the writing table and the editing room. Perhaps the filmmakers will do better with the second film of this proposed trilogy of the life of Genghis Khan. I hope so, because I'll be there to see it.

Baby Mama

All right, here it is: BABY MAMA is laugh-out-loud funny.

Here's the setup: ridiculously hot Tina Fey is a career woman whose biological clock is ticking ... like ... this. Problem is, her doctor "doesn't like her uterus," and it looks like she'll never be able to carry a baby. Enter ridiculously hot (and surprisingly funny) Sigourney Weaver as Chafee Bicknell, proprietress of a first class surrogacy service. She matches rhTF with consistently funny Amy Poehler, whose white trash bonafides are cemented by her common-law marriage to ever entertaining Dax Shepard.

And away we go, in a class and culture and gender comedy that's consistently funny and perceptive. rhTF proves that not only can she sway an election, she can carry a movie. How much so? BABY MAMA features Steve Martin's best comedy work in years, and rhTF measures up to him in every frame. cfAP does great work with what could have been an elementary role, and eeDS and the rest of the supporting cast (including Maura Tierney, Romany Malco, Will Forte, Fred Armison, John Hodgeman, and the always likable Greg Kinnear as the love interest) are just plain first rate. The script casts a knowing comedic eye on pregnancy and love, and it manages to be simultaneously sharp, biting, and hilarious.

BABY MAMA is way funnier than I'd expected. It made me lose track of time and kept me chuckling right through the end credits. To those who were put off by the crass and dull trailer, be not deceived by the poor decisions of the marketing department. This picture is a winner.

The Strong Man

TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP is included on the DVD, "Harry Langdon: The Forgotten Clown," available from Netflix. The disc also features two Frank Capra -directed films, THE STRONG MAN and THE LONG PANTS. Yesterday, I saw THE STRONG MAN.

I generally like to take a movie head on. I try to view it, and write about it, on its own terms. But I'm having trouble thinking of Harry Langdon without thinking of the Big Three of silent comedy: Chaplin, Keaton, and Lloyd. As mentioned in my thoughts on TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP, Chaplin and Keaton both relied on physical virtuosity and precise planning in the execution of their films, while Lloyd seemed to put more stock in his charisma. Their efforts resulted in timeless films that haven't lost their ability to entertain generations later. Langdon, on the other hand, does not appear to have been particularly physically gifted. His set-pieces relied on editing and simple stagecraft to see them through. And the poor guy just wasn't as charismatic as he evidently thought he was. Seeing him mug his way through one situation after another isn't particularly amusing nor entertaining. Frankly, it's tiresome.

But hey, THE STRONG MAN gives you a chance to catch some early Capra.

The film opens with Langdon as a Belgian soldier on the Western Front. It's the strongest part of the piece, combining stock footage with character bits that establish the hapless Langdon as the little soldier who couldn't, really, but somehow managed to survive despite himself. Soon enough, the war is over, Langdon has emigrated to America, and Mary Astor is out to take advantage of him. But Langdon only has a heart for one girl, the American who sent him all those nice letters while he was at the front.

This Langdon is childlike, perhaps addled. As he blunders his way from one situation to the next on his path to his One True Love, we're invited to root for him, cry for him, laugh with him. Instead, we look at our watch. His character is so juvenile that we can't engage with him as a man, but he's too old for us to engage him as a boy. The set pieces don't amuse but do go on too long, and the whole thing just grinds.

Recommended for those interested in seeing Capra develop his craft; not many others.

Tramp, Tramp, Tramp

TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP stars Harry Langdon as the Harry Langdon character, a sad sack conveniently named Harry. In this incarnation, Harry's the son of a small town shoemaker who's losing out to shoe magnate John Burton. Burton's secret? A nationwide billboard campaign featuring his lovely daughter, Betty. When Burton dreams up a coast-to-coast walking race sponsored by his cobblery, Harry gets his big chance to enter the race. If he wins, not only does he get enough money to save Dad's business, he just might meet the Burton Shoes poster girl.

Never mind that Betty Burton is played by the terrifying Joan Crawford. The cross country race serves as a way too get our hero from one set piece to the next, though the pieces themselves work with varying degrees of success. Where Chaplin and Keaton could count on physical virtuosity (and meticulous planning) to execute their set pieces, Langdon relies on editing and charisma. When it comes to charisma, however, the guy's no Harold Lloyd. I never invested in Langdon's predicaments because I never invested in Langdon. Besides, how do you root for your hero to get the girl when the girl is dragon lady
Crawford?

For those looking to view this movie for some Crawfordish deliciousness, TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP is sadly lacking. She's your
generic love interest, falling for the star for no reason other than that he's the star.

TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP is a lesser silent comedy, one I'd recommend to Crawford completists and those interested in this era of film. To the general viewing audience, however, I say to give it a pass. There are better silents out there.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars

STAR WARS: THE CLONE WARS is the pilot episode for the new, animated, Clone Wars series showing on basic cable. How did it rate a theatrical release? Branding, baby. Branding.

Taken as a standalone product, SWCW is a run of the mill sci-fi themed adventure movie. It stars actors we like voicing characters we have no reason to like, embarked on an adventure in which we have no investment, facing peril we never doubt they'll overcome. But hey, it's Star Wars. People will pay money to see it.

Among those people include my 8-yr-old. I think he's on his fourth viewing. The Clone Wars period of the Star Wars story captures his imagination, and the "small person's" POV used when focusing on a new trainee's character appeals to him. Furthermore, the movie pops in HD, and its "cartoon marionette" aesthetic is surprisingly effective.

All in all, for a movie, STCW is a good tv show for kids. Don't expect much more than that.

Hairspray

I sat down in front of HAIRSPRAY with my arms crossed. I was not in the mood for a musical. Two hours later, HAIRSPRAY had me tapping my foot and put a big smile on my face.

HAIRSPRAY is an energetic, colorful, lively, and fun musical that overcomes its jarring elements and delivers a first-rate entertainment experience.

So, let's talk about the jarring elements. First, there's John Travolta. Yeah, the guy's a hell of a dancer (if you can dance in a fat suit and sell it, then buddy, you can dance). But his Baltimore accent was horrible and I never once believed he was anyone other than John Travolta dragged up in a fat suit. Second, there's Christopher Walken. Frankly, I'm tired of Walken's playing against type in comic roles. Creep me out again, Chris! Third, there's the aggressive cheerfulness of the production itself. It's like one of those kids shows that knocks itself out trying to convince its audience how much gosh-darn fun its having.

But enough of that. James Marsden cements his position as one of the most fun to watch young actors working today. Michelle Pfieffer, in her second "wicked witch" role in recent memory has always been one of the most fun to watch actresses in the business. Nikki Blonsky is delightful as the lead, and the whole thing rocks along with a wink and a smile and has so much gosh-darn fun that you can't help but wink and smile along.

What a pleasant surprise.

Mamma Mia!

I took three runs at MAMMA MIA! I was stuck in coach on a transpacific flight in one of those old 747s, the kind with one screen up near the front of the cabin of which you can only see about half. I actually wanted to see this movie because I like Greece, I like the cast, and I liked MURIEL'S WEDDING, which also pushed the Abba.

I made it about thirty seconds in the first musical number before I pulled my headphone jack out of the armrest. But everyone looked they were having such a good time, and the island looked so pretty, that I plugged back in for one of Meryl Streep's numbers, just so I could hear her sing. I think I lasted 45 seconds through "Dancing Queen." Yank.

Then Pierce Brosnan opened his mouth in what appeared to be agony. I plugged back in for his number. I lasted perhaps a full minute that time, but I was done.

MAMMA MIA! is like being dragged to your mom's kaffee klatch during spring break. It's like going along with your wife on a "lunch with the girls" so she can share a part of her life with you. It's like being forced to listen to your sister cry over her latest breakup as you, she, and a friend of hers drive down an interminable highway. If you're a guy, you don't belong. You know you don't belong. Everyone's trying to make you feel like you do belong, but everyone knows you just plain don't. Especially you.

So don't go along. If you're a man, this movie is worse than PLAN NINE FROM OUTER SPACE. It's worse than STEALTH. It's worse than DEATH RACE 2000. Tell your mom to have fun at the kaffee klatch. Tell your wife you'll be having beer and wings with the guys. Tell your sister to drop you off anywhere and tell someone to send water.

Just don't subject yourself to this.

Quantum of Solace

QUANTUM OF SOLACE is an action movie whose action sequences are so incomprehensible as to be outright boring. Seriously. Whoever directed and edited these sequences are terrible at their jobs, utterly unable to string together something so simple as a fistfight without a hundred jump cuts and reaction shots that, at times, had me
wondering who was hitting whom.

The story's fine, I suppose - it's a mystery wrapped in a revenge thriller, with plenty of granola-eating throwaways for the Guilty Hollywood crowd (The next time I hear someone complain about "the corporations," I'm gonna throw my Nerf brick at the screen.). But I didn't care because not only did I not know what was going on, it
became apparent that this iteration of Bond has no fear of death. How can we thrill to the courageous exploits of a man who doesn't need courage because his wiring's screwed up?

Yeah, QUANTUM OF SOLACE is loud and lots of stuff blows up and Bond outflies a fighter in a DC-3, but it just doesn't work. Maybe if I knew what was going on.

Bangkok Dangerous

Since every beat of BANGKOK DANGEROUS is predictable and everything happens on schedule, your enjoyment of the film will hinge upon how much you like Nick Cage and how much you like Thailand.

I like Nic Cage. I like Thailand. I like 'em so much that I overlooked the fact that BANGKOK DANGEROUS is not a very good movie and had a good time, anyway. Yeah, this is the kind of movie in which the hardened criminal kicks things off by telling you his rules of the game. That's just so you'll know exactly which rules he'll break on his way to redemption. And oh, yeah, it's the kind of movie in which the hardened criminal repeats the rules as he's about to break them, in case you walked in late or have poor short-term memory. And yep, it's the kind of movie in which the love interests don't say anything, making them empty vessels for the romantic fantasies of the (young male) target audience.

But it has lots o' great location shooting in the Land of Smiles, lots of stuff blows up real good, and Cage does that thing where he's holding a pistol in each hand and blasting away, a firing technique guaranteed to ensure that the shooter couldn't hit the sky if he were aiming at it. Of course, this is extra fun because Nic Cage is just not a dangerous guy. I don't care how silly his wig is or many weights he lifts - there's something about the guy that communicates that the worst thing he could possibly do to you is shark your wave or bogart your joint. I don't mind - Thailand looks great, the local talent is very talented, and the movie even surprised me when it came to the damsel.

You Don't Mess with the Zohan

YOU DON'T MESS WITH THE ZOHAN is a shocking movie. It's actually funny.

I know, I know. It shouldn't be. The ads made it look like a vanity piece for a suddenly insecure Adam Sandler. It prominently features Rob Schneider. It's vulgar.

But, hey, the first act has several laugh-out-loud moments. The second act is strangely sweet. And when the third act realizes its jokes are getting old, it blows up a lot of stuff real good. Oh, and did I mention John Turturro?

Here's the hook: Zohan is an Israeli superdupersoldier. He tires of fighting, fakes his own death, and moves to America to follow his dream of becoming a hairdresser. From there, the movie is kind of a gentle rehash of COMING TO AMERICA, with equal helpings cultural and sexual humor. Here's the surprise: Sandler actually sells it, making this his funniest picture since THE WATERBOY. His Zohan is confident and insecure, sweet and vulgar, a whole lotta fun.

And Turturro, as his Palestinian nemesis The Phantom, is utterly unhinged. Here's the thing about Turturro: he can be a fine, nuanced actor in stuff like THE LUZHIN DEFENSE; he can also roll into high caricature and chew scenery with the best of them. Here, he's in full caricature mode, creating an antagonist so silly that every moment on screen feels like a great time.

I was not expecting to enjoy YOU DON'T MESS WITH THE ZOHAN, but I'm glad I fired it up. What a pleasant surprise.

Red Eye

RED EYE is a clockwork thriller, carefully plotted and shorn of fat. While some of the elements it uses to generate tension were utterly lost on me (Oooh, turbulence!), Cillian Murphy and Rachel McAdams are sufficiently interesting people to carry a fim on their faces alone. And just when it goes over the top in the third act and you're ready
to throw your Nerf brick at the screen, here comes Robert Pine (Sgt. Getraer from CHiPs, but hey, you knew that) to lend a little goodwill.

Sure, it's forgettable. Sure, it's a throwaway. But it's a well-made throwaway. I liked it.

Body of Lies

The most arresting sequence in BODY OF LIES, Ridley Scott's latest film, focuses on Russell Crowe's Ed Hoffman, a rumpled CIA division director. Crowe is at home, writing a paper by speaking into a dictaphone, carefully crafting an argument about the nature of Islamic terrorism, the gravity of the threat, and the means necessary to combat it. The scene shifts to Crowe speaking the words to two sharply-dressed political types - he wasn't writing a paper, he was rehearsing a talk. He's wearing a "visitor" badge. The politicos look bored and annoyed that he's taking up their time. He's laying it all out, clearly and concisely. He sees another politico enter the room and he makes a quick exit while the people he'd waylaid sit up, smile, and focus on the newcomer.

Crowe is America's leading expert on Islamic terrorism, and the only way he can get a meeting with high-level decisionmakers is to barge in on their schedules, piss them off, and disappear.

The sequence is brilliant because it puts everything else about the film into perspective. All the punishment Leonardo DiCaprio's CIA operative takes, all the low-level politicking between American and Jordanian intelligence, all the death - it's back page stuff; the big dogs have other bones to gnaw.

But what is happening on that back page, anyway? BODY OF LIES is the first GWOT espionage thriller, and it's a fine piece of storytelling in the best traditions of the genre. It features intricate plots and counterplots, players of various levels of trustworthiness, dangerous love, courage, and cowardice. Its local touches feel authentic, and it has the courage to understand that it may not be the most important thing happening in the world.

I liked this movie; I liked it alot. It had everything I could ask for in an espionage thriller, and its creators are top-flight talent. Even if it is about back-page stuff.

Death Race

There are some actors out there who are in it for the paycheck. There are some who are in it solely to explore their art. There are some who explore their art when they can and take the paycheck when they must.

I guess Joan Allen had bills to pay.

I'm tempted to write that DEATH RACE is a bad, bad movie. Its races are incomprehensible agglomerations of gunfire, explosions, and quick-cuts that left me utterly mystified. When a movie's ostensibly about racing, even death racing, shouldn't one be able to tell who's in the lead, or even what's going on, without a ranking board popping up every now and then? Ms. Allen has a climactic outburst of villainy that was so ridiculous I nearly laughed. And don't get me started on the crime to Robin Shou's hair that this film represents.

But 40-year-olds with colds who can't muster the energy to do more than see a bad movie are not the target demographic of this particular film. The target demographic of this particular film is males aged 15-25. I saw this movie at an on-base movie theater at a naval airfield in Japan. The crowd was 100% male, and I'm pretty sure I was twice the age of the next-oldest guy there.

They loved it.

They cheered the explosions. They laughed at the comical kills. They howled at the pretty women. They hooted at the dialogue. Man, they ate DEATH RACE up. It was like their favorite video game come to life. On the way out, they chatted and laughed and high-fived and generally went home happy.

So, hey, if you're a 15-25 year old guy, you'll probably love DEATH RACE. If not, well, you'd better have one hell of a cold.

Xanadu

Sometimes, a guy's just gotta groove to some ELO-influenced roller disco entertainment.

XANADU is that, of course, but it's also more: it's the pinnacle of the roller disco genre. It's tacky, it's loud, it's far too bright, and it raises more questions than it answers. It also features Gene Kelly's last dance performance in a feature film, clever switches between animation and live action, and more raucous, self-delighted performance than you can shake a skate at. This is the kind of movie that features tightrope walkers because - why the hell not? It's the kind of movie that gives you nine muses, none of whom look remotely Greek. It's the kind of movie that thinks going over the top isn't going far enough.

Yeah, there's a plot about an artist who is in danger of losing his inspiration and an old-timer in danger of forgetting his. They're saved through the twin powers of Olivia Newton-John and roller disco, a potent combination if ever there was one. But that's not the reason to see the movie. The reason to see the movie, or at least to fast forward through the dialogue so you can get to the production numbers, is to watch an aging Gene Kelly demonstrate that he has more rhythm in his little finger than Olivia Newton-John has in her entire body. It's such a pleasure to watch this guy do his thing, even if he isn't as acrobatic as he once was, that you can't possibly regret sitting down with this picture for at least twenty minutes. What's more, there are zoot-suit dancers, carhop dancers, and even early breakdancers.

All that, plus ELO. Plus roller disco. What's not to love?

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

I enjoyed the hell out of SWEENEY TODD.

This film was my first exposure to the story, and I admit that I went into the picture not expecting to like it. My tastes run to the bright and cheery, frankly, and this stuff is pretty dire. But it works. It works because Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter, even under all their makeup, infuse the proceedings with a compelling, dark humanity. It works because of top notch supporting performances. And it works because Tim Burton creates a world, and a worldview, so complete that we can enter into it and live there for a while, even if we don’t care to live there much longer than a couple of hours.

Johnny Depp, a strong contender for Can Do No Wrong status, is Todd, a man with vengeance in his heart. I knew Depp could do vengeance (Hell, I knew he could accomplish most any acting task set before him.), but I didn’t know he could sing. His numbers, and his performance of those numbers, enhance his character and entertain – he’s just great here. Helena Bonham Carter, an actress to whom I’ve always found it difficult to warm, is just right, as well. She’s creepy and off and fascinating and, what do you know, she can sing, too.

As for the supporting work, well, look at this cast: Alan Rickman (CDNW), Timothy Spall, and Sacha Baron Cohen (a performer whose stock keeps rising, in my book), among others. Rickman, of course, Can Do No Wrong. Spall is taking too many “slimy guy” roles, but he’s mighty good at them, and who knew Cohen could sing? Even as I recognized their faces, I bought their roles.

And Burton, well, he’s Burton. He creates films that come fully alive in their self-contained worlds, and his choice of palette and scene here is spot on for the material.

This is a successful film, and a damn fine entertaining one. Color me pleased.

The Foot Fist Way

THE FOOT FIST WAY is the kind of film that invites us to spend an hour and a half laughing at, not with, its characters as they endure one uncomfortable and embarrassing situation after another.

I found it to be mean-spirited, hateful, and accusatory. I shut it off after forty-five minutes of stone-faced, arms folded indignation. I can’t imagine why anyone would write, direct, produce, or star in this picture, and I can’t imagine why anyone would recommend it to anyone else, unless they didn’t like their target.

Avoid this film. The world is a worse place for its existence.

The Miracle of Morgan's Creek

THE MIRACLE OF MORGAN’S CREEK, a Preston Sturges picture from 1943, is laugh-out-loud funny. It offers a combination of verbal and physical comedy that’s irresistible, and it’s served up with verve.

THE MIRACLE OF MORGAN’S CREEK is pretty sophisticated stuff for a post-Code, war-era comedy. A girl in an Army town goes out for a big night at the farewell bash for a bunch of new recruits headed off to war. Weeks later, she has vague memories of possibly having married some guy named, um, Ratzkywatzky, ?, and definite proof that she’s pregnant. What is a pregnant minor to do? Well, if her mother’s the governor, mom finds the son of a bitch and gets ‘em hitched after forcing ‘em to smile for the national television cameras. But what if her father is just a lowly constable? She finds a patsy.

And away we go, with sputtering fathers, stuttering patsies, and enough slapstick to make it all go down smoothly. Betty Hutton is winning as Trudy Kockenlocker, the girl in question, and Diana Lynn is utterly delightful as the sister who’s younger in years but older in the heart and head. William Demarest, as the father who is no match for his daughters, is a master of bluff paternalism and the expert pratfall, and Eddie Bracken, as the hapless patsy, is simply delightful.

The more I think about this movie, the more I like it. THE MIRACLE OF MORGAN’S CREEK is a wonderful time at the movies.

The Mist

THE MIST wrung me out. This is a scary, exciting, depressing, and fulfilling movie that did not get the love it deserved.

The film, based on a Stephen King novella from _Skeleton Crew_, is a variation on one of King’s favorite themes: a group of people are trapped in an extraordinary, possibly supernatural, situation. The rules of civilization bend and snap, and we’re witnesses to our own best and worst selves.

Sure, there are monsters and gore effects and all that sort of thing, but THE MIST is really Lord of the Flies in a supermarket. While some folks may be put off by the film’s religious and political positions, it isn’t the positions themselves that matter so much as where the picture goes with them. THE MIST has a bleak view of humanity, it seems, but it also believes in the potential for nobility. I enjoyed its exploration of those ideas as much as I did the visceral fear, adventure, and desolation it had on offer; for I knew that those emotions were emotions in a box, feelings I could sample for a while, then put away. But what I can’t put away are some of the ideas of THE MIST, particularly the one about the fragility of civilization and the human compact. I don’t agree with its position, because I consistently see people at their best when things are at their worst, but the film does offer rich food for thought, nonetheless.

The Naked Spur

Somewhere along the way, I picked up the notion that there was a twist ending to THE NAKED SPUR. There is, but not the in the way I thought. It’s a twist so much more engaging than anything I’d have imagined that it elevates the picture from merely good to damn good. Unfortunately, it also makes the film nearly impossible to write about.

I will write that the cinematography is not particularly fascinating and the music is grating, relentlessly telling us what to think and how to feel. Mid-career Jimmy Stewart is fine, as always, and the supporting cast does its job well enough that no one struck me as a “favor cast.”

But the real credit here goes writers Sam Rolfe and Harold Bloom, who fashion a story that appears straightforward, but gets more and more complex as things develop. By the end, even though I knew this was a Western of a certain era, I had no idea how things were going to turn out. And that twist, wow. This movie took me by surprise.

The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle

THE ADVENTURES OF ROCKY & BULLWINKLE represents either a career low for Robert DeNiro and Rene Russo or a fun, silly jaunt for kids that should be taken as it was intended. I’m inclined to go with the former, but my kids would select the latter.

Here’s the deal: an ambitious young studio executive wants to helm her first movie, but every script she sees is too intelligent. Then, someone pitches her a live-action film based on the old “Rocky & Bullwinkle” cartoons, and she’s ready to sign. But there’s a catch: the pitchers are cartoon villains, and the hook is that they’re ready to come into the real world and wreak havoc. And so it is that DeNiro, as Fearless Leader, Rene Russo as Natasha, and Jason Alexander as Boris find corporeal form. And it isn’t long after that Rocky & Bullwinkle, rendered in a level of CGI somewhere below that of the SCOOBY-DOO films, enter the picture to save the day.

But why am I wasting time setting up the plot? It only exists as a vehicle for sight gags, self-consciously bad puns, and general purpose silliness that had me checking my watch and both my boys delighted. This movie wasn’t made with me in mind, but I respect its dedication to kid-friendly humor and its willingness to throw jokes at the wall and see what sticks.

Do I want to see the once-great Robert DeNiro waste his time with stuff like this? Not really, but I still respect the guy’s willingness to go with the cheesy joke even while I grimace at perversions of some of his signature moments. But hey, he didn’t make this movie with me in mind. And he did entertain the hell out of my kids, which made it possible for me to get some chores done around the house. Rather than criticize the man for his involvement in ROCKY & BULLWINKLE, perhaps I should be thanking him.