FANTASTIC FOUR (2005 - ACTION/SUPERHERO) ***½ out of *****
(It’s no DARK KNIGHT, but its got what DARK KNIGHT doesn’t have - Jessica Alba’s ass and Chris Evans’ abs. Making it all good, thanks…)
CAST: Ioan Gruffaud, Jessica Alba, Chris Evans, Michael Chiklis, Julian McMahon.
DIRECTOR: Tim Story
WARNING: SPOILERS and slippery drool ahead….
The last two reviews covered two of the best examples of the “Superhero” genre: THE DARK KNIGHT and BATMAN BEGINS. Both films combined gripping action with deeper themes about humanity and justice. So it’s only fitting that the next two reviews be from the same genre, albeit from the shallow end of the pool. Yes, folks, I’m talking about FANTASTIC FOUR and its sequel. But don’t worry: just because a movie has no aspirations other than to admire Jessica Alba’s cleavage or Chris Evans’ chest hair pattern, doesn’t mean it has no value. In fact, it can be very valuable, indeed.
FANTASTIC FOUR opens with brief sketches on our main characters: Reed Richards (Ioan Gruffaud), newly-bankrupt entrepreneur trying to sell his idea of studying mysterious solar winds for the purpose of... well, who cares; Victor Von Doom, the rich, sphincter-impaired schmuck whom Reed is trying to sell his hare-brained idea to; Sue Storm, the hot blonde scientist that both Victor and Reed are playing “dueling hard-ons” over; Ben Grimm (Michael Chiklis) a lunkhead of indeterminate current occupation, but who was obviously once a military man, judging by the spastic way he jumps to attention whenever anyone calls out “Room, Ten-hut!!!“, however unbelievably; and last, but certainly, not the least, Johnny Storm (Chris Evans), your textbook bad boy who always seems one come-hither look away from fucking anything within ten feet of him - man, woman, vegetable, or furniture. Or maybe I’m just a degenerate.
No sooner have we met this fivesome do we follow them up onto Victor’s space station, where they plan to rendezvous with the aforementioned solar winds. Needless to say, Victor fell for Reed’s shpiel with the vigor of a hooker going down on her landlord on the first of the month. Unfortunately, Reed’s shpiel must not have a contingency plan, because as soon as the solar winds show the first signs of not marching to the group’s tune, he yells, “ABORT!!!” What the hell? You guys just barely arrived! Anyway, the solar winds slam into the space station and Johnny, Reed, Ben, and Sue are “contaminated” by them. Victor Von Pussy remains in the safety (he thinks) of the station’s interior. Just you wait, buddy…
Anyhow, the fivesome re-awaken back on Earth, where they immediately discover that they have, um, special abilities. Sue can vanish at will, and by that I don’t mean she dyes her hair brown and goes dowdy. I mean she actually vanishes. Into thin air. With only her clothes bobbing around. As for the others, Reed turns into Plastic Man; Ben turns into a walking boulder; Victor turns into walking scrap metal; and, last but certainly not the least, Johnny discovers that he can turn smokin’ hot in 0 to 2.5 seconds. By “smokin’ hot” I do not mean “sexy as fuck.” After all, this is Chris Evans we’re talking about here. I'm sure he was wowing women as early as the nurses in the delivery room, and was probably voted “Most Likely To Secretly Pose for PLAYGIRL Only To Be Exposed One Day Before Graduation” in high school. In short, his appeal is just fine, thank you. No - by “smokin’ hot” I mean he can burst into flames at will. Guess who’s not going to get along with Smoky “Only You Can Stop Forest Fires” The Bear on the next camping trip.
When the film is not obsessing over Sue’s tits or Johnny’s pecs, it’s tracing the fivesome’s reactions to their new-found abilities. Sue, Johnny, Ben, and Reed pretty much adjust to their new talents - while Victor pretty much goes ape-shit-whackjob-psycho over his. Of course, I humbly submit that he was pretty fucked in the head to begin with, judging from his earlier attempts to woo Sue by coming on to her like the world’s oldest and creepiest schoolboy. I’m not sure what terrifying playbook he got his moves from, but suffice it to say that he’s the kind of guy that books like “She’s Just Not That Into You” get written about. At any rate, Victor promptly becomes the film’s villain and tries to wreak havoc on the local populace because (1) he is basically a loser with money, and (2) Sue would rather eat broken glass and wash it down with vinegar than touch any square centimeter of his body, and (3) this movie needs a bad guy because it can’t be all about Jessica Alba’s smooth torso and Chris Evan’s hairy one. Actually, it could, but then it would be just us perverts in the theatre.
Anyhow, the Fantastic Foursome eventually engages the Ominous Onesome in a battle to the death that generates real suspense and terror because it would such a shame for Jessica Alba and Chris Evans’ well-toned physiques to be damaged in such a way. About Ben and Reed, I couldn’t give a fuck because they‘re just not as beautiful as the Storms. Unfortunately, my vote doesn’t count, so they survive anyway. It goes without saying that FF manage to beat the OO - and banish him to the moon or something. But if you think that the studio is going to let the door close on this potential franchise when there’s so much more area to explore on Jessica Alba and Chris Evans’ bodies, then you are a normal human being who does not at all drool over celebrities that you will never have. I feel sorry for you. What a sad life you must lead.
BUT, SERIOUSLY: So it’s not THE DARK KNIGHT. But guess what? FANTASTIC FOUR doesn’t want to be that kind of movie. It just wants to entertain you, make you laugh a little, make you jump a lot, and, if you’re a degenerate like me, make you drool a whole lot more. The cast is quite good and seems to be having fun. Jessica Alba does very well and holds her own against her mostly male cast - and is one beautiful woman. Ioan Gruffaud is good as the leader of the FOUR, while Michael Chiklis turns in a great performance - considering most of it is buried under five or six feet of lava rock. Julian McMahon is quietly menacing as Victor. But Chris Evans steals the show with his energetic and lively portrayal of a bad-boy who is smarter than he portrays himself to be. Interestingly, he and Jessica Alba have a chemistry that is much more potent than your typical brother-sister connection. Be great to have them play romantic leads in another movie. I’d sleep on the sidewalk for that one.
And, seriously... who is Chris and Jessica's trainer? Sign. Me. Up.
THE DARK KNIGHT (2008 - ACTION/SUPERHERO/THRILLER)***** out of *****
(Now, that’s what I’m talking about: HEAT, but with Batman and The Joker instead of DeNiro and Pacino...)
CAST: Christian Bale, Michael Caine, Aaron Eckhart, Maggie Gylenhaal, Gary Oldman, Morgan Freeman, Monique Gabriela Curnen, Eric Roberts, Melinda McGraw, Ron Dean.
NOTE: Once again, NO SPOILERS this time. This is one movie that you want to go in, as raw as can be…
It’s interesting that the highest-rated film here, thus far, is going to get the shortest review, but it’s for the best. Anyone who’s seen THE DARK KNIGHT already knows how great it is, and anyone who hasn’t will want to know as little as possible going in. Suffice it to say, Christopher Nolan and his cast top their stellar last effort, BATMAN BEGINS, by taking the themes explored in that film - and then going much deeper, and darker.
A brief synopsis: Gotham still has crime problems, but Bruce Wayne (Bale) wants out and is ready to pass the torch to rising and, let’s face it, narcissistic D.A. Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart, terrific). Complicating things is the fact that Dent is dating Rachel Dawes (Maggie Gylenhaal, stepping in for Katie Holmes). This is tricky because the main reason that Bruce want to quit being the Bat is so that he can have a future with Rachel. Even further mucking things up is the sudden rash of violent crimes perpetrated by a menacing new criminal threat called The Joker (Heath Ledger, earning every ounce of gold in that posthumous Oscar award, bless his soul), who exerts an almost supernatural hold of terror over the populace.
Coming back from the first film, along with Bale, are Morgan Freeman, Gary Oldman, and Cillian Murphy. New characters include Det. Ramirez (Monique Gabriela Curnen), Gordon's confidante who gains importance as the story progresses, and Salvatore Maroni (Eric Roberts), an underworld sleaze who is at the top of the criminal food chain that Batman, Dent, and Gordon are gnawing on.
BUT, SERIOUSLY. But, seriously: THE DARK KNIGHT does the seemingly impossible - turn a superhero movie into a morally, emotionally, and psychologically-relevant film. This movie poses more profound questions than your average Best Picture-nominee. This is one of those movies that words can’t do justice describing, precisely because you would expect it to be so easy to describe - but it isn't. But the fact of the matter is THE DARK KNIGHT is the perfect example of pulse-pounding kinetic thriller that has bottomless heart - and dark soul. Brilliant.
Great direction from Nolan. Terrific performances from the entire cast - and a stronger female presence, this time around, in the presence of Rachel, Ramirez, and Barbara Gordon. And, once again, a triumphantly evocative score from Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard.
BATMAN BEGINS (2005 - ACTION/SUPERHERO/THRILLER) ****½ out of *****
(Some people are just not cut out to be shallow, vapid billionaires without a sense of purpose… Unlike me...)
CAST: Christian Bale, Michael Caine, Liam Neeson, Katie Holmes, Gary Oldman, Ken Watanabe, Morgan Freeman, Cillian Murphy.
DIRECTOR: Christopher Nolan
WARNING: SPOILERS and brooding billionaires ahead...
In order to understand my feelings about BATMAN BEGINS, you need to understand my feelings about all the other BATMAN movies that preceded it. I thought BATMAN (1989) was okay, but highly overrated. In fact, I recall someone from PREMIERE magazine calling it “the biggest case of mass hypnosis since Reagan ran for reelection.” Ha-ha. Wish I’d come up with that one. Anyhow, it’s sequel, BATMAN RETURNS, on the other hand was severely underrated. Darker than the original, edgy, and ahead of its time, it also sported one of the most interesting female characters ever in Catwoman, as wonderfully essayed by the lovely Michelle Pfeiffer. Then, we started to slide into day-glo technicolor territory with BATMAN FOREVER, which was fun but unremarkable. Then we started to slide into “will someone call this guy a cab already?” territory with BATMAN AND ROBIN, which was less fun and even less remarkable than its predecessor. By this fourth outing, the series was looking dangerously close to a Mardi Gras celebration gone very, very wrong - filled with strange partygoers you wish would just hail a cab and go home already.
So - the reboot that is BATMAN BEGINS came along, and not a second too soon. This film takes the series back to its roots - and then some. Treating the story with refreshing seriousness, director Christopher Nolan actually sells the idea that an emotionally-damaged billionaire would devote his time - and riches to… dressing up like a bat and fighting evil. It helps when you have a stellar cast that treats the material with a straight-face and no tongue-in-cheek. Another bonus is the script by David Goyer which feels like a pulse-pounding thriller. Approaching the source material this way gives it something that none of the earlier BATMAN films (with the possible exception of BATMAN RETURNS) ever had: suspense.
We trace the evolution of Bruce Wayne from his innocent days as the heir to the Wayne fortune. We watch as he witnesses the murder of his parents at the hands of a hoodlum, and see how that scars him. We watch him as a young man fresh from college as he tries to take justice in his own hands. We see the disappointment that childhood pal Rachel Dawes (Katie Holmes) feels for him when she realizes how close he came to being a vigilante. Needless to say, Brucie has demons. No, that’s not accurate enough - his demons have demons. Naturally, he does what anyone fighting insidious inner voices should do - get away from it all and go on vacation. Only in this case, he goes to Tibet for seven years or something and finds himself turning into (1) a thief, then (2) a fugitive, then (3) a student at mountaintop convent. How’s that for an itinerary? Bet you’ll never bitch out your tour guide again for cutting out beach day.
At this secluded retreat, Bruce finds himself under the tutelage of Henri Ducard (Liam Neeson) a dour and sage dude quite skilled in Martial Arts. Bruce learns at lot from Ducard, and proves to be the model student. Ducard is part of the League of Shadows, as is a mysterious person names Ras-Al-Gul (Ken Watanabe) and wants Bruce to join as well. Problem is that one has to be ruthless-with-a-capital-R in order to be part of the LoS posse. It’s this last lesson that Bruce can’t quite master, and he fails his final test when he is ordered to kill a criminal. This leads to an all-out battle that leads to the monastery getting trashed - and Ducards' ass whupped by his favorite student. Ooops.
Certain that he can find another stinkin’ mentor and seriously jonesing for a Big Mac, Bruce returns to Gotham where, in short order, he does the following: (1) become Batman; (2) piss of Rachel, now an ADA, with his playboy theatrics, and (3) really piss off the city’s criminal underworld by beating the crap out of it. His tangles with the darker side of Gotham also ensnare Chief James Gordon (Gary Oldman) and Rachel, who has been trying to indict several of the city’s crime lords - only to watch them get off on an insanity loophole indorsed by Dr. Jonathan Crane (Cillian Murphy). Soon, she comes to suspect the not-so-good Doctor is up to dirty tricks of his own. While she pursues this line of investigation, Batman and Chief Gordon bear down on the crime bosses, learning that a Big Fish is due to arrive in Gotham very soon. A Big Fish named….. Ras Al Gul. Except, when he arrives, Ras Al Gul turns out to be none other than Bruce’s old mentor, Henri Ducard - ready to kick some billionaire ass over the colossal wedgie he got on that mountain-top.
This all leads to a climax wherein Dr. Crane and Ras Al Gul try to drive the inhabitants of Gotham with a nerve gas that brings their worst nightmares to life. Never fear, though, because Brucie didn’t become Batman just to give vent to a flying-rodent fetish. He actually wants to fight crime and injustice - and fight it he does. Rachel pitches in, too, when she fries Dr. Crane’s face with a tazer in a scene that is both scary and hilarious at the same time. Finally, Ducard and Batman face off on a runaway train carrying gallons and gallon of the nerve gas. Guess who lives? As the movie ended with Bruce and Rachel facing an uncertain future, all I could think of was, “good thing I didn’t sniff any of that nerve gas, otherwise I’d be surrounded by a million digested hamburgers seeking revenge.”
BUT, SERIOUSLY: BATMAN BEGINS brings gravity, intelligence, and class to the Batman Mythos. Everything about this film is just right. Christian Bale finds all the levels of strength, uncertainty, and humanity in Bruce - and makes his decision to become Batman understandable. Liam Neeson is a nicely-layered villain whose motivations you can understand, even if you can’t quite condone his actions. Michael Caine does a warm, droll turn as Alfred. Some quarters have knocked Katie Holmes’ presence, but I think she’s fine. She sells her no-bullshit character very easily. The only minus isn’t really her fault: she and Bale just don’t have much romantic chemistry. It’s more brother-and-sister. Gary Oldman, Ken Watanabe, and Cillian Murphy are all terrific in their supporting turns.
Christopher Nolan’s assured direction of David Goyer and co.’s script is also commendable. You can feel when a director has a connection with the material, as opposed to going through the motions, and there is a definite kinetic link between Nolan and BATMAN BEGINS. Finally, it would be remiss of me to not mention Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard’s phenomenal score. In fact, I think the music is this film’s secret weapon. It complements an already-strong product, and in certain sections, lifts it up into the dizzying heights of great cinema.
And just when you thought it couldn’t get any better…. I present: THE DARK KNIGHT. Coming up next…..
STATE OF PLAY (2008 - MYSTERY/THRILLER) ***½ out of *****
(Take Woodward and Bernstein, combine them into one character - but make him infinitely hotter. Result: Mr. Crowe Goes to Washington…)
CAST: Russell Crowe, Ben Affleck, Rachel McAdams, Helen Mirren, Robin Wright-Penn, Jason Bateman.
DIRECTOR: Kevin MacDonald
WARNING: SPOILERS and unabashed Russell Crowe-worship up ahead.
It’s my firm belief that Russell Crowe is one of the last true movie stars to come out of Hollywood. Sure, we’ve had new actors and actresses who’ve opened successful movies recently. But I don’t think any of them are true movie stars. Russell Crowe has less in common with them than he does with, say… Sean Connery, Harrison Ford, Kevin Costner, Dustin Hoffman, Robert Redford, Faye Dunaway, Sharon Stone, and Michelle Pfeiffer - people who, in addition to being able to act well, have that undefinable something even a blind man can see. These days, all it takes to be a “star” is to be attractive and be able to deliver dialogue without embarrassing yourself. Which is the category that Mr. Crowe’s co-star Ben Affleck fits in to. Watching these two is almost like watching the difference between a movie star and someone who can simply act okay.
Mr. Crowe plays Cal McAffrey, a hardnosed and rough-around-the-edges Washington journalist who is also friends with Rep. Stephen Collins (Ben Affleck). Set aside the fact that Russ Crowe is at least 8 years older than Ben A., you still have to buy in to the notion that livewire alpha-male Cal would ever even consider being pallies with such a milquetoast like Stephen. Presumably, Stephen was even more square in college, and Cal, even wilder. Which makes you wonder if opposites truly attract. Or if Stephen was paying Cal to be his friend.
Anyhow, their friendship is put to the test when Stephen breaks down on live TV after being told that his assistant Sonia was killed in a metro accident. Falling apart with the camera rolling, the viewers can only presume that Stephen is so upset because (1) Sonia was a valued member of his staff, or (2) Sonia was a valued member of his staff who also was a very good friend, or (3) Sonia was a valued member of his staff who was also a very good friend whom he was also fucking six ways from Monday. Anyone surprised that everyone assumes #3 to be true, obviously learned about human nature from reading Archie comic books.
Naturally, this turns into a scandal that makes the headlines, and Cal finds himself under pressure from chief editor Cameron Lynne (Helen Mirren) to deliver the goods on his friend. Add to this mix eager-beaver blogger Della Frye (Rachel McAdams) trying to scoop him, and you can’t blame Cal for sneaking a sip of Irish wine - read: Jameson’s whiskey. Further complicating things is Stephen’s wife Anne whom Cal had a thing with awhile back, which caused a rift in the mens’ friendship. Anne obviously still loves Cal, who makes a googley eyes at him as if he were being played by Russell Crowe. Bitch. He’s my man.
Sorry, lost my bearings there for a moment. Where were we? Oh, yeah…. Plot breakdown…. The Cal-Anne-Stephen triangle…. To sum it up, who can blame Anne for spreading ‘em for Cal? Choosing between a milquetoast congressman who looks like Ben Affleck and a gladiator reporter who looks like Russell Crowe is rather like choosing between slipping into a coma - or someone slipping their tongue into your ear. Things get even hairier (by things, I don’t mean Russell’s back) when it becomes evident that PointCorps, a billion-dollar company being investigated by Stephen, may not only have been responsible for Sonia’s death, but also planting her as a spy in his office to report on his every move. Stephen doesn’t take this news well, because the choad apparently believed Sonia really loved him. This makes him go ape-shit, and he decides to give an interview to Cal’s paper that basically blows the whistle on PointCorps and everyone one else involved.
If you’re thinking the movie ends at this point, then you obviously learned about thrillers from reading The Hardy Boys books. In this day and age, it’s de rigueur for a final twist to be tossed onto the audience like one of the those 100 lb, salmons at Pike’s Place Market. Only it doesn’t smell as bad. Just a slippery, though - turns out that Stephen was actually behind Sonia’s death, after all. He actually discovered that she was a spy for PointCorps and hired a psycho ex-military pal to tail her. Only the psycho ex-military pal turned, well, psycho and killed her from outrage. I wonder if Mata Hari had it this bad? Needless to say, the film ends with Cal putting things together and confronting Stephen, who promptly breaks down and admits everything - and in doing so reaffirms the universal truth that while good boys may be less trouble than bad boys at first, in the long run, they may be even worse. And fucking boring, as well.
Meanwhile, across town Anne rejoices, knowing that she can fuck Cal with abandon with her yawn-a-thon husband out of the way now. Bitch.
BUT, SERIOUSLY: Recently, I reviewed A PERFECT GETAWAY and called it a good, old-fashioned thriller that takes its time to wrap its clammy hands around your ankles - then yanks you off your feet to have its way with you right there on the movie theatre floor. STATE OF PLAY is another such throwback to the thrillers that value character and classic storytelling over flashy gimmicks and Megan Fox-like starlets. Based on a BBC mini-series of the same name, STATE OF PLAY is the first of two US remakes of British series to be released in the last two years. The second was EDGE OF DARKNESS with Mel Gibson, which was just as good, if not a little better.
STATE OF PLAY builds suspense by developing the characters at the same pace that it develops the plot twists. Their actions define them as they push the plot forward at the same time. The cast - with one notable exception - certainly leaves its mark on the roles: Russell is simply amazing, actually creating a character rather than just saying his lines. Rachel McAdams does well as the young ingenue who is eager but not chirpy, and who gradually comes to respect Cal after an initial wariness. Helen Mirren is delightful as Cameron Lynne, who is obviously a graduate of the tough-love school of managerial leaderhsip. Robin Wright-Penn does a lot with the potentially small role of Anne Collins, Stephen’s conflicted wife. She makes the role feel bigger than it is, and her eyes have a language of their own.
The notable exception that I mention is Mr. Affleck. I’ve always liked him since GOOD WILL HUNTING, and he’s always had natural screen presence and charisma. But here, trying to project gravity and inscrutability, he comes across as a little stiff and wooden. As if he was assessing his every move. You could argue that this was actually because Stephen is monitoring himself from revealing too much, as he is the pic’s true villain, but it just comes across as self-consiousness. I keep wondering how the role would have turned out with Edward Norton in it, as was originally planned. I think the pairing with Russell would’ve been more balanced with Mr. Norton. But I guess I should just be grateful that they didn’t use Brad Pitt for the role of Cal, as was originally planned. It could’ve been far worse.
Because in my mind, Brad Pitt is merely a good actor. Russell crowe is an excellent actor - and a movie star.
KNIGHT & DAY (2010 - ACTION/COMEDY/ROMANCE) ***1/2 out of *****
(I need a hero. I need a hero until the morning light. He’s gotta be strong, and he’s gotta be smart, and he’s gotta last until the end of the night. I need a hero. I need a hero until--- Dear God, what am I doing?)
CAST: Tom Cruise, Cameron Diaz, Peter Sarsgaard, Viola Davis, Paul Dano, Frank Langella, Maggie Grace.
DIRECTOR: James Mangold
WARNING: SPOILERS and disarmingly nice spies ahead…
I have a Tom Cruise story that I’d like to share. Back in my Los Angeles days when I was a very successful and extremely powerful theatre usher at a cinema in Westwood Village, celebrities would come in quite often to catch the flicks. I held their popcorn and beverage-acquiring abilities in my hands. Without my cooperation, they’d have no choice but to sit through the movies with growling stomachs and dry mouths. Now, some of these celebrities were total dicks. You know, the kind that threw money at the manager, who then flipped out and had us ushers whip up the orders and give them to him to hand-carry up to the dickhead prima donnas who had gone up to sit in the closed-off balcony area.
And then there was Tom Cruise. Back then, he was still married to Nicole Kidman. What I remember distinctly about them whenever they came to see movies at our theatre was…. Just how nice they were. Tom and Nic never threw money at the manager before going up to the cordoned-off balcony to wait for their orders. They always waited in line, just like the common folk, politely chatting with their fans. I had the occasion to serve Tom Cruise a couple times, and was struck by how down-to-earth and well, nice, he was. And I still can’t get over how he and Nic decided to wait in line every single time. Even in busy screenings. And then whenever they left, they would always smile at the staff and say “Have a good night.”
So, it’s this impression of Tom Cruise that I’ve carried with me all these years, even through the whole Scientology brouhaha that some say has damaged his rep. It’s just hard for me to reconcile that with the incredibly kind and unaffected person we repeatedly had the privilege to serve. And for the record, I’ve never found him especially compelling as an actor, but someone I know always said that the way a person treats someone whom he/she can get away with not treating well, or even acknowledging, says a great deal about him/her. And Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman always treated us very well. Unlike a certain dickhead whom I will not name who once pranced around our lobby at 9 PM with his sunglasses on (Really, dude? Really?) and smoked up a storm. When told by a staff member that it was a non-smoking building, the fucker actually smirked and dropped the lit cigarette on the carpet - and walked away. How’s that for decency? Bottom line: I’ve always thought of Tommy C. as good guy. Same for Nicki K.
Anyhow, watching Tom Cruise’s latest film, KNIGHT & DAY, what I saw in it that I haven’t seen in any of his movies lately were flashes of that nice guy that used to come to our theatre and politely wait in line for his food, just like everyone else.
He plays Roy Miller, a CIA agent that has allegedly gone rogue and is trying to sell a revolutionary battery to the highest bidder. Cameron Diaz (whom I also spotted at one of our premieres, but never had the occasion to serve popcorn to) plays June Havens, an everywoman who crosses paths with Roy on a Wichita-Boston flight. The flight is nearly empty, and Roy and June quickly bond. It’s this scene where I first glimpsed the nice-guy-Tom from years and years ago. He inserts little touches of humanity in his brief exchange with June that quickly cements the connection between them. We learn that June is racing back to Boston to attend her little sister’s (Maggie Grace) wedding, and that her Wichita trip was to try to find an auto part for a classic automobile that she’s souping up as wedding present. Roy registers this act of kindness. In fact, acts of kindness figures prominently in the plot, and it’s this thread which elevates the popcorn-theatrics of KNIGHT & DAY, while anchoring it at the same time. At any rate, the plane turns out to be full of rogue counter-agents, whom Roy ably dispatches while June is spritzing herself in the lavatory. Roy is forced to crash-land the plane in a cornfield, and both he and June are off to the races as they traverse a path leading from Boston to NYC, to the Azores, then to Austria, then back to Boston, then to Seville for a climax involving motorcycles and stampeding bulls. Yes, bulls.
So, if you want to be clinical about it, KNIGHT & DAY is basically a Hitchcockian chase film with various faction fighting over a “Macguffin” - in this case, the revolutionary battery. What’s great about KNIGHT & DAY is that it’s basically told from June’s point of view. In this regard, it’s very much like ROMANCING THE STONE or CHARADE, where an innocent woman is pulled into a world of danger and intrigue by a dashing rogue. Cameron Diaz, whom I have been in a “like-dislike” relationship for years, acquits herself well and wisely eschews - for the most part - the cloying clowning that she sometimes mistakes as endearing. Here, she is able to make June an interesting and sympathetic character without telegraphing things. It helps that June and Roy are linked by their kind natures. Roy is constantly looking out for June, even leaving omelets for her to ensure that has a good breakfast before a day of running for her life and avoiding fireballs. In one particularly appealing scene, Roy give a “Hall and Oates” pin to the young genius/geek (Paul Dano) who created the battery because he knows the kid is a fan. Little touches like that make the character likable and root-able. Indeed, when under the influence of a truth serum, June tells a villainous henchmen that she likes Roy because of all kind things he does. “It’s the little things that matter!” she barks at him.
Indeed, the little things. The small touches of whimsy and quirkiness in KNIGHT& DAY do wonders for a story that could have been just another - albeit, good - romantic spy caper. Also, the supporting cast is just as A-game as the leads: the aforementioned Paul Dano, Peter Sarsgaard as Roy’s rival agent, Viola Davis as a Pamela Landy-CIA-type, and Frank Langella as another agency bureaucrat. I was prepared to dislike this film, but was pleasantly surprised by how it caught me off guard. You never would have expected a popcorn summer movie to trumpet the power of being nice - and do it so well. Too bad, there wasn’t a scene wherein Roy and June politely wait in line for popcorn at a theatre, just like everyone else.
BUT, SERIOUSLY: This is a fun movie, plain and simple. Even if you go in resisting, like I did, you might feel yourself gradually being won over. That’s a rare thing these days. The last time I went in resisting a movie, I ended up disliking it more and more as it wore on. That movie was THE BOOK OF ELI - dour, pretentious, and boring. KNIGHT & DAY is the opposite - fun, relatable, and exciting. But don’t take my word for it - go to the theatre and see for yourself.
And when you go get your popcorn from the concession stand, don't forget to be nice to the staff. : )
EDGE OF DARKNESS (2010 - ACTION/THRILLER/DRAMA) **** out of *****
(Mel Gibson lays down the seven rules for dating his daughter. Get your bullet-proof vest on…)
CAST: Mel Gibson, Ray Winstone, Danny Huston, Bojana Novakovic, Shawn Roberts, Jay O’Sanders
DIRECTOR: Martin Campbell
WARNING: SPOILERS and rotten (to the say the least) milk up ahead…
Thomas Craven (The Mel) easily wins as DAD OF THE YEAR for all the trouble he goes to in behalf of his daughter in the mean, gritty action film EDGE OF DARKNESS. Hell, maybe even DAD OF THE DECADE. After the brutal murder of his daughter, Emma (Bojana Novakovic), Thomas - who, by the way, is a homicide detective with the Boston PD - goes on a rampage to find out exactly what happened.
The film opens with the shot of a rural lake. In case the audience starts to think that we’re headed into peaceful, bucolic territory, director Martin Campbell (CASINO ROYALE, GOLDENEYE) dispels that silly notion by allowing three corpses to break the surface. This is the first sign that we are not watching MEATBALLS 4.
Cut to Boston, MA - where The Mel as Thomas Craven is picking up his daughter Emma at the train station. In town for a few days, Emma is a nuclear engineer with a degree from MIT. She seems a bit edgy during the ride back to the Craven Crib, but hides it during some banter with dad where she asks him if he has “a lady” - and he replies that she is his lady. Awwwww….. Good thing this isn’t the backwoods, or that might have less of figurative meaning. And I might have to leave the theater.
At any rate, the Craven reunion is marred when Emma starts bleeding through her nostrils and puking at the dinner table. Understandably concerned, Thomas does what any DAD OF THE DECADE contender would do - he grabs her and shoves her out the front door, making a beeline for the emergency room. Too bad about the masked assassins standing on the front lawn who yell “Craven!” before firing a shotgun at them. The blast vaporizes Emma - and the assassins are off and running before Thomas can so much as think about busting a cap in their asses.
Devastated, Thomas goes through the next few weeks after Emma’s death like a zombie. The assumption is that the assassins were really after Thomas (because he’s a cop) and Emma just happened to be in the way. This theory starts to fall apart when Thomas discovers a gun in Emma’s backpack, and even more when he tracks down Emma’s boyfriend (Shawn Roberts) who tells him that she had discovered something sinister at her place of work. Thomas picks up the scent of something shitty - and is off and running to the corporate swamp where Emma spent her days.
A gigantic facility overseen by creepy sleazeball Jack Bennett (Danny Huston), who has a tan that makes one wince just looking at it, the place just reeks of “cover-up.” Naturally, Thomas digs deeper and deeper, eventually getting his hands on a disc made by Emma before her death - but only after a couple of her friends are offed by the same assassins that did her in. On the disc, Emma sadly relates how she discovered her employers’ dirty skeletons. Turns out Jack and his board of directors have been financing weapons research and selling them to rogue nations. Or something. As you can imagine, people have killed for less. I firmly believe that if Bill Clinton had the kind of corporate sharks in EDGE OF DARKNESS for advisors, Monica Lewinsky would have disappeared mysteriously and the “little blue dress with a cumstain” would never have made into the national lexicon. And sure enough, Thomas discovers to his horror that Emma’s employers have triggered radiation sickness in her by contaminating her - gasp - milk! How else will she eat her Cheerios, no doubt they thought as they were strategizing her demise.
Now, battling the murderous corporate meanies on his own would have been bad enough. But it also turns that Jack Bennett has folks on the BPD on his payroll, as well. No matter, though, because Thomas Craven is DAD OF THE DECADE. At the climax, he basically turns into Rambo and crashes Jack Bennett’s palatial house. Now, throughout the film I was wondering what Jack’s sexual orientation was. Not that it was important, but it would help understand his character a little. With his overly-gelled pompadour, tweezed eyebrows, and applied-by-spray-gun tan, he looks more of a Queen than some of my flamer friends on Capitol Hill. My suspicion was confirmed during the aforementioned climax - Thomas busts into Jack’s front hall to find the latter in a silk smoking robe and silk boxers, with chain-upon-chain encircling his bare chest and neck. And even more of that godawful tan in view. And that pompadour unmarred by any interaction with a pillow. I suspect - no, I know - that upstairs in Jack’s bedroom was probably a twenty-five year old gym rat chained to the four poster bed, waiting to be “milked,“ and who will now not be able to earn his going-rate because of Thomas’ interruption.
Don’t worry - Thomas still gives Jack his daily dose of milk, literally. He takes a couple of the contaminated quarts from Emma’s kitchen and forces it down Jack’s gullet, while yelling: “You like that, dontcha bitch? Like how that tastes? Want some more?” Okay, that last part was my embellishment, but you just know Thomas was thinking that. Jack, ever the fucking drama queen, runs away with his silk robes flapping and pompadour bobbing, screaming like the alpha-pansy that he is. Now, he’s got the same radiation sickness that Thomas and Emma have. Ha-ha. But if Thomas was really aiming for some poetic justice, he should have acquired the cum of an escort with a raging case of syphilis - and force-fed that to Jack. Of course, there’s the chance that the bastard might enjoy it
Anyhow, EDGE OF DARKNESS ends with Thomas eventually succumbing from radiation sickness. The last shot is of his ghost walking out into the hall to meet up with Emma. Smiling, she returns her father’s proferred high-five - and confides in him that Jack Bennet's pompadour were all hair plugs.
I knew it.
BUT, SERIOUSLY: Needless to say, for most of its running time, EDGE OF DARKNESS is a no feel-good movie. Sure, it’s well-made and engaging, but it won’t paint any rainbows in your head. Rather, it paints a picture of a bleak world where money is king, and harm can befall anyone who gets in the way of that notion. Anyone. Even good, innocent people who have done nothing to harm anyone else. However, the great pay-off is at the end when the bad guys get their comeuppance, giving the audience - and Thomas - some measure of comfort.
EDGE OF DARKNESS is a remake of the British mini-series of the same name. I have not seen that version, but will do so now. This is a remake that can stand proudly next to its progenitor. The entire cast is dead-on with their performances. Mel Gibson reminds you what makes him so appealing as an actor and a screen presence. Bojana Novakovic is simply wonderful in her small, but pivotal, role of Emma. Such lovely and expressive eyes. Danny Huston is pure sleaze as the corporate villain. I guess it’s a measure of how good he played his role that everyone cheered his death at the end of the film. And Ray Winstone as the closest thing to an ally Thomas has, is wonderfully nuanced and enigmatic.
Martin Campbell, who displayed his smooth and assured directorial skills with the Bond films CASINO ROYALE and GOLDENEYE, scores again here. The pace and tone are kinetic, but also contemplative and thoughtful where they need to be. I suppose, it its own way, EDGE OF DARKNESS is also a Bond movie - but one firmly rooted in the real world, where the Bond Girl dies in the first ten minutes, and where nothing is for certain and no one can be trusted - not even allies- and special gadgets will not save the day.
A PERFECT GETAWAY (2009 - THRILLER/ACTION)**** out of *****
(Murder and danger on the Kalalau trail - and that’s just the treacherous path. Don’t get me started about the psycho Nick-and-Norah stalking it…)
CAST: Steve Zahn, Milla Jovovich, Timothy Olyphant, Kiele Sanchez, Marley Shelton, Chris Hemsworth.
DIRECTOR: David Twohy.
WARNING: No SPOILERS this time, folks. This is the kind of movie that you want to go in knowing as little as possible. Know what I’m saying?
After three days of mediocre-to-average movies, it’s refreshing to return to appealing territory. You know - the territory of good movies? Or at least movies that don’t make you wish you could send that ghost-chick from THE GRUDGE after the screenwriters responsible - and after everyone they ever banged in their life. Just to ensure that the douchebags' genes do not spread any further.
This review is going to be SPOILER-free, and shorter than most of my rambling epics. Thank. Christ. I'm sure you're thinking. But, no, I'm not doing this to spare you the agony of reading for hours. My rationale: the less you know about A PERFECT GETAWAY, the more it will ram you hard - and trust me: you’ll like the ramming. Unfortunately, I knew far too much about the movie going in. However, even with that I still enjoyed it immensely. I can only imagine how I would have reacted knowing just the bare minimum of premise and characters. But that’s what I’m giving you folks: the bare minimum. You’ll thank me later.
We open with video footage showing clips from a wedding. Some choice moments: the guests gushing about how perfect the bride and groom are for one another, the bridesmaids running for the bouquet like it’s a $5,000 gift card to Banana Republic, and the grooms racing away from the garter like it just came off the decaying corpse of 129-year old hooker. You know - the usual wedding stuff.
Cut to Cliff and Cydney Anderson (Stevie Z. and Milla J.), the newlyweds from the video, as they explore Kauai, obviously now on their honeymoon. They decide to trek the famous (or should I say, infamous) Kalalau trail - a torturous path that winds across miles and miles and miles of sheer cliffs, steep valleys, and dense jungle - leading to, well, a rather ordinary-looking beach. Sorry, but when you’ve been to the Indian Ocean, everything else pales in comparison.
As C & C begin their hike, they hear about the news of a murdered couple in Honolulu - and the reports that the police believe the killers may have jumped islands. When I say “killers,” I don’t mean Katherine Heigl or Ashton Kutcher. However, I do mean a man and a woman. Just as soon as it is established that our villains are a couple, the movie parades suspect couple after suspect couple in front of Cliff and Cyd, if only to try to get their goat - and ours. I was starting to expect Brainy Smurf and Smurfette to make a sinister appearance. A few of the potential deadly-duos: Nicko and Gina (Timothy Olyphant and Kiele Sanchez), a southern couple - he with a steel plate in his head, and she with a tendency to gut mountain goats and say “whoopty-ta!”; Kale and Cleo (Chris Hemsworth and Marley Shelton), he a surly walking poster boy for White Trash, she a chatty walking poster girl for White Trash - who also got married in a Grocery Store - enough said; and lastly, an unnamed (that I remember anyway) Hawaiian dude and his “bitch.” Yes, he actually refers to his girlfriend as his “bitch.” Try that on the mainland, buddy.
Anyhow, suffice it to say that the deeper Cliff and Cyd go down the trail, the more EVERYONE looks suspicious. And the more A PERFECT GETAWAY plays mindgames with us - and them. Finally, they all reach Kalalau beach, where the well-traveled among them suppress the urge to yell, “I walked for a whole fucking day across jungles and valleys and rain and rocks - just for this?”
But, I will say no more… Except that A PERFECT GETAWAY culminates in a bravura climax where everything is revealed, some people die, other people fight for their lives, and the unassuming among you get rammed like you were the leading lady in a John Holmes movie. You have been warned.
BUT, SERIOUSLY: But, seriously… A PERFECT GETAWAY was great: a nice throwback to thrillers that took their time to tighten their grip around your ankles - the pull you off your feet. The entire cast is great - not a single off-note among them. That’s all I’m going to say here. Oh, wait… I did want to add that the movie’s score is very sad and lovely - especially the “Wedding” theme. Worth seeking out to listen to. Over and over again.
IT’S COMPLICATED (2009 - ROMANTIC COMEDY) ** out of *****
(Lifestyles of the Rich, Horny, and Over-50...)
CAST: Meryl Steep, Alec Baldwin, Steve Martin, Lake Bell, John Krasinski.
DIRECTOR: Nancy Meyers
WARNING: SPOILERS and criminally-gorgeous interiors I will never be able to afford - right up ahead.
Seeing the myriad trailers and posters for IT’S COMPLICATED, I knew it was about a well-to-do fifty something (Meryl Streep) who is lured back into an illicit affair with her caddish ex-husband (Alec Baldwin), who is now married to the younger woman he left her for. In the meantime, she meets a recently-divorced architect (Steve Martin) who makes her feel even more conflicted about her torrid fuck-a-thon with her ex. I also knew that it was likely going to be another movie afflicted with the “LLT” syndrome - “Lopsided Love Triangle” syndrome. The LLT is a romantic (or sexual) situation in which one person is torn between two potential mates - one of whom is an obviously and blatantly better choice than the other. These movies are usually a foregone conclusion, where the audience just waits for the protagonist to make the choice that anyone could see coming from several light years away.
But I was wrong. IT’S COMPLICATED doesn’t suffer from LLT syndrome - that would be too much to hope for. Nope. It suffers from WHO CARES syndrome. That’s the worse thing that can afflict a romantic comedy - when you don’t give the slightest shit about who the protagonist ends up with. Now, understand that I’m glad this film made over $100 million at the domestic box office. That means more movies getting made starring people old enough to know that EASY RIDER is a famous movie, and not someone whom you pick up on the road - and who subsequently lets you fuck the living daylights out of them. Unfortunately, the risk is that these movies will end up being more bland, forgettable non-events like what IT’S COMPLICATED turned into.
The “story” revolved around Jane Adler (Streep), who has been divorced for ten years from her philandering ex-husband, Jake (Baldwin), who has now married the navel-pierced tramp (Lake Bell) that he screwed around with. Jane takes this all in stride, as evidenced by her reaction at a garden party that Jake and the She-Devil happen to be at. No teeth-gnashing. No fist-clenching. No ripping out of ovaries. Jane is much too much of a lady for that. Nope, she goes home and bitches about it to her fellow fifty-somethings over wine and pie. Yes, wine and pie. That’s how you can really tell you’re getting old: when you mix alcohol with… pastries. Ever hear of Cheetos, ladies?
Anyhow, the third point of the, ahem, “triangle” arrives in the weak form of Adam (Steve Martin, looking, well, not at all like Steve Martin), an architect who is trying to get over his divorce by listening to self-help CDs in order to keep from strangling his ex-wife. By the way, he’s been divorced for several years - and still has to listen to CDs. If this doesn’t clue you (or Jane) in to the fact this guys is snooze material, then I’m afraid you (and she) are doomed. Adam shows up in Jane’s life just after she returns from attending her son’s college graduation in NYC - where she banged Jake (also attending, but without the She-Devil) in a drunken stupor at their hotel. This is the part where the conflict is supposed to begin - Jane meeting an “attractive” and “available” man, while being haunted (and hounded) by her “seductive” and “alluring” ex. This is the dramatic crux, folks, and it’s a good one. It worked wonders for BRIDGET JONES’ DIARY. Why not here? Why not with such talented actors as Meryl Steep, Alec B. and Stevie M.”
Here’s why not: not a single one of them is playing an interesting character. Meryl Streep does what she can to enliven the role of Jane, but aside from some choice lines (“Turns out, I’m a bit of a slut) and decent scenes, the character is largely bland and not compelling. More like, “Turns out, I’m a bit of a drag). Alec Baldwin is a born comedian, and he gives Jake somewhat of a “bad-boy” edge - but that’s all. You just don’t understand what - besides the sex - Jane would want from him. And he’s a double-adulterer, too boot. Which I’m sure happens a lot in real life, but in escapist fare like this that ‘s supposed to tease you with “will-they-or-won’t-they” I’m afraid there are very little shades of gray. And Jane’s actions start to siphon off sympathy for her.
And then there’s Adam, easily the most boring and blank potential love interest in recent memory. Even inserting a scene wherein he and Jane accidentally get high at her son’s party, to try to give him some shading and an opportunity to loosen up, doesn’t quite come off. The whole time, I kept thinking: These are her fucking choices? It doesn’t help that Streep doesn’t seem to have much chemistry with either Baldwin or Martin. Interestingly, she actually strikes sparks with John Krasinski, who plays her son-in-law Harley, who unwittingly witnesses one of Jake and Jane’s clandestine booty calls at a local hotel that he and his wife are having lunch at. Watching the hapless Harley try to wrap his head around the whole scenario, with Jane breathing down his neck, is priceless. Whenever Streep and Krasinski are in frame, I kept wishing for a different movie: GO, COUGAR!
Needless to say, Jane winds up with the more “promising” mate. In this case… Adam. I’m sure in some fucked-up, far-flung galaxy he’s considered hot stuff - but I’d hate to visit there. I know Nancy Meyers was probably going for a male character who wasn’t (1) a douchebag, or (2) a sex-maniac, or (3) unemployed. Someone reliable and decent who was supposed to be a counterpoint to rascally Jake. But she didn’t have to make him so boring. Look at Colin Firth vs. Hugh Grant in BRIDGET JONES’S DIARY. Now, there’s a good man who made you forget about the bad one. The character of Adam might have had a chance with someone like Kevin Costner playing him. Someone who could make bookishness and reserve actually seem sexy. Then maybe we would have the LLT syndrome, at least. Instead of WHO CARES?
BUT, SERIOUSLY: The best way to understand how disappointing and unsatisfying IT’S COMPLICATED is, is to compare it to Nancy Meyers’ previous effort: the wonderful SOMETHING’S GOTTA GIVE. That film also concerned a middle-aged (or more) couple being caught off guard by each other - and then by their growing love for one another. But whereas that film had a genuine and moving sense of romance and emotion about it, IT’S COMPLICATED has facile monkey-sex.
SOMETHING’S GOTTA GIVE also did not suffer at all from LLT, let alone WHO CARES. Primarily because both Harry (Jack Nicholson) and Julian (Keanu Reeves) were formidable choices for Erica (Diane Keaton). You could feel her conflict. Also, SOMETHING’S GOTTA GIVE has two wonderful scenes of great emotional resonance: Erica shyly telling Harry that she had a good time - and him responding that he felt like he’d spent time with a soulmate. And then later, when they confront each other outside a Manhattan restaurant and Erica lays bare her soul. I never fail to tear up at these scenes.
Contrast this with IT’S COMPLICATED, which shows emotional resonance by having Jake tell Jane that he loves that she stopped trimming her pubes and has gone “native.” Ugh. And that's the problem with IT'S COMPLICATED: the only thing at stake for Jane are her continued orgasms. In SOMETHING'S GOTTA GIVE, the only thing at stake was Erica's heart. Which, in the end, is really everything, right?
PRINCE OF PERSIA (2010 - ACTION/ADVENTURE) ** out of *****
(Does this sunless tanning lotion make me look Persian? Tell me the truth...)
CAST: Jake Gyllenhaal, Gemma Arterton, Ben Kingsley, Alfred Molina, Richard Coyle, Toby Kebbell, Ronald Pickup.
DIRECTOR: Mike Newell. Yes. Mike Newell. The director of ENCHANTED APRIL and FOUR WEDDINGS AND A FUNERAL. Don't worry - you are not drunk. Or high.
WARNING: SPOILERS and many faux Persians up ahead...
Something odd happens at about the halfway mark of PRINCE OF PERSIA, the ill-conceived attempt to duplicate the video-game-to-silver-screen success of PIRATES OF THE CARRIBEAN: You realize the movie is going absolutely nowhere. Oh, it sure thinks it is, and so does its game cast. But, trust me, it's just spinning its wheels in the sand. Too bad, because it gets off to a semi-promising start.
At its core, PRINCE OF PERSIA is very much a chase film. You know, the kind Hitchcock did so well: various factions running after - and killing each other over - a "Macguffin." No, this is not something you can purchase at McDonald's before 10:30 AM. It means the mysterious "something" that drives the plot of a thriller. It can be suitcase full of money, or a vial of rare plutonium, or even a bootleg of SLIVER with it's original ending intact - as long as the characters are willing to throw each other under the bus to get at it.
In PRINCE OF PERSIA, the Macguffin is a dagger with a hollow glass handle that can hold the magical sands of time. Which can propel the handler into the past, where he/she can use knowledge from the future - to change future. Kind of like me inventing post-its and retiring at 24. Needless to say, you can see how this MacGuffin dagger would be tempting to just about anyone.
PRINCE OF PERSIA opens with a prologue showing young Dastan, our impoverished and scrappy hero, winning the love and admiration of the King of Persia when he attacks of one of the King's henchmen with an orange for abusing some of the poor folk. For this act of rebellion and insolence that most kings would have rewarded with, oh I don't know, a date with a guillotine, the King of Persia adopts Dastan as a son, praising his "courage." As opposed to writing this off as typical poor-brat behavior. Hell, if that's really all it would've taken to be adopted by a billionaire, I'd have pitched entire groves of oranges at their bodyguards while growing up.
Anyway, young orange-throwing Dastan grows up to be not-so-bright-but-good-hearted adult Dastan (Jake Gyllenhaal, looking very, very lost). Dastan's two older adoptive brothers are important military figures and are intent on invading some nearby walled city because of rumors that they have WMDs. Seriously. Dastan secretly infiltrates the city and manages to take the city with a minimum of bloodshed. Nevertheless, he is still treated with disgust by local hottie, Princess Tamina (Gemma Arterton, fairly drowning under a sea of bronzer, obviously borrowed from her QUANTUM OF SOLACE co-star Olga Kurylenko, who basically doused herself in the stuff to pass as Bolivian). Tamina only becomes "interested" in Dastan when he picks up the MacGuffin dagger, clearly thinking it's a Bong. Obviously, Princess Tamina knows more than she's telling. (NOTE: Why are all heroines in action movies always knowing more than they're telling? For once, I want one who is dumber than she looks. Wouldn't that be a novel concept?).
Anyhow, Dastan and his bros' celebration of conquering WMD City is cut brutally short when King Pops tries on a ceremonial robe presented to him by Dastan. Only problem is the robe is the textile version of an acid bath, and King Pops melts right in front of his sons, his brother Nazid (Ben Kingsley - guess who the villain is? No, guess again) and the kickin' house party they've assembled. "Whhhhhhyyyyy????" KP pleads with Dastan as his face crumbles like an Oreo in a glass of milk. Only not as appetizing. So not.
Long story short, PRINCE OF PERSIA turns into a Hitchcockian man-on-the run movie, with Dastan and Tamina hightailing it out into the desert and basically turning into Robert Donat and Madeleine Carroll, e.g., bickering about. every. single. goddamn. thing. Pssssst, guys, since you dipshits are fugitives in the middle of the desert, perhaps you could consider growing up and working together. Oh, right... that's not an approved way to create sexual tension, whereas sniping at each other every three seconds apparently is. Of course, if they actually grew up and cooperated, the movie would be over in 14 seconds.
This is pretty much the middle part of the movie: Tamina sniping at Dastan. Dastan threatening to bitch slap her. Tamina responding, "Bring it, Prince Adopted. Ooooh, you gonna cry?" Anyway, after about seven years of this tedious "chemistry," Nazid realizes he needs to put in his villain dues, yawns, and leaves his Harem to break up the overly-bronzed lovebirds.
This all leads to an incomprehensible battle for the MacGuffin dagger in, I guess, the bowels of the earth. It certainly looks like the bowels of something. Like this movie. Meow. Anyhow, at one point, Tamina plunges to her death, meriting a standing ovation from the audience due to the fact that we no longer have to (1) listen to her "argue-cute" with Prince Adopted, or (2)wonder if her pores are choking underneath all that bronzer, or (3) if Gemma Arterton is doomed to playing spunky but ill-fated sidekicks for the rest of her natural life (also see CLASH OF THE TITANS and QUANTUM OF SOLACE).
Unfortunately, having the writers actually kill her off is too much to ask for. Nope, Prince Adopted takes the dagger and uses it to travel back in time to a point where (A) King Pops is still alive and un-melted, and (B) Princess Tamina is still alive and in a good mood (likely because she still hasn't met Dastan), and (C) the audience still harbored a shred of hope that this movie wouldn't suck.
Using his knowledge of things to come, Prince Adop- er, Dastan, exposes his Uncle Nazid as the bad guy, to which everyone appears genuinely shocked. Please. Like anyone with a mustache like that has nothing but good thoughts racing through his head. Right. At any rate, it comes as no surprise that King Pops is saved, Uncle Nazid is fucked (not literally - at least not until he makes into that Persian prison, which might as well be Turkish), and Tamina has no idea what a developmentally-arrested knucklehead Dastan really is. But, trust me, she will. And when she does, she's gonna need that MacGuffin dagger to travel back in time to kill Dastan's real dad before he gets a chance to knock up Prince Adopted's real mom. Good luck with that, T....
BUT, SERIOUSLY: I had hopes that PRINCE OF PERSIA would be great, or at least good. To say I was disappointed would be like saying that a porn star sometimes earns her money on her back. Jake Gyllenhaal and Gemma Arterton do their best, but they're contending with a script that feels like it was assembled by a machine. About the only thing that was compelling about this flick was the sultry cinematography. Now, if only the human and narrative elements could have matched the visuals, we might have had a summer tentpole series to give Johnny Depp a run for his money. Alas....
And, seriously.... Mike Newell? Was he supposed to turn this into FOUR PERSIANS AND A DAGGER? Or ENCHANTED BRONZER?
THE BOOK OF ELI (2010 - ACTION/DRAMA) **1/2 out of *****
(Apocalypse No Thanks...)
CAST: Denzel Washington, Gary Oldman, Mila Kunis, Jennifer Beals, Evan Jones, Frances De La Tour, Michael Gambon.
DIRECTOR: Albert and Allen Hughes.
WARNING: SPOILERS and oddly-hygienic post-apocalyptic teenagers ahead...
Thank goodness I saw THE BOOK OF ELI at a free advanced screening, and didn't have to shell out $13 bucks plus the cost of a Medium Popcorn, Large Coke, Hotdog, and Nachos for a grand total of $5,035. If I had to pay that much to sit through two hours or so of tedious MAD MAX-wannabe theatrics and pretentious THE ROAD-wannabe melodramatics, who knows what mature way I would have chosen to express my dissatisfaction? Probably crap on the concession counter - or walk into another packed theatre to release a silent-but-deadly before walking out again. Or kick a Barnes and Noble Nook peddler.
Anyhow, I wanted to enjoy THE BOOK OF ELI. Truly, I did. But, alas, just like a "pretty-only-in-theory" face whose eyes, nose, mouth, cheekbones, and jawline are all stellar when viewed separately, but form a jarring and discordant mess when combined, THE BOOK OF ELI's various elements are all fairly impressive - when considered separately. After all, in front of the camera we have Denzel Washington, Gary Oldman, Jennifer Beals, and Mila Kunis in major roles - and Frances La Tour and Michael Gambon in minor, but important ones. Behind the camera we have the talented directors Albert and Allen Hughes. These elements should have combined to produce, if not stellar, at least good entertainment.
So. What the hell. Happened?
Hard to say for sure. But I can say for certain that the idea of a lone traveler (Denzel Washington as Eli) protecting a mysterious book as he crosses an apocalypse-torn America had serious potential, especially when he wanders into a encampment ruled by self-elected leader Carnegie (Gary Oldman, in an obligatory and cliched cruel-yet-deep villain role). Eli meets Carnegie's blind wife, Claudia (Jennifer Beals, the film's one saving grace), and her nubile teenage daughter, Solara (Mila Kunis, about as believable a post-apocalypse teenager as Denise Richards made a convincing nuclear scientist in THE WORLD IS NOT ENOUGH).
Carnegie, sensing that Eli is hiding something, recruits Solara for "Mata Hari" duties and foists her on the inscrutable outsider. Now, even with the world reduced to rubble, Solara must be aware of some secret stash of Pantene hair products and Neutrogena Acne Solutions kits buried somewhere in the desert. How else do you explain her lustrous locks and smooth skin? A true member of Gen PA (post-apocalypse) would have hair like a brillo pad and skin like a pepperoni pizza. But not our Solara, who looks more like Clinique's latest spokesmodel. How odd, then, when Eli rebuffs her advances. Obviously, he prefers his nubile skanks to look skankier - or he's as gay as a bluejay in spring.
No matter. Solara gets over her rejection by putting it out of her mind and trying to put Eli at ease - if not with a blowjob, then with a thousand fucking questions. Eventually, she learns that he's safe-guarding a book. Oh, by the way... Carnegie has also been sending his crusty and stinky goons to scour the ravaged countryside for... books. From an earlier scene where he gazes with displeasure at the tomes collected by his posse, it's apparent that Carnegie is looking for a specific book, and that his loyal-if-stupid band of book-gatherers have not exactly struck the mother lode.
By the way, if you're starting to suspect that Eli's book is actually the book that Carnegie is after, then rejoice - clearly momsy and popsy didn't make a mistake in siring you. Unlike an acquaintance of mine who confided in me that she was surprised - nay, astonished - when it turned out the Eli and Carnegie were after the same book. "Wow," is all I could say. Obviously, not many banal and predictable flicks have reached the nether regions of the rock she grew up under.
Anyhow, Solara sells Eli out to Carnegie. After all, he who controls the Pantene and Neutrogena controls the world. At least, to nubile post-apocalyptic teenagers who refuse to look like one. Carnegie tries to make a deal with Eli for the book. Eli balks and basically makes a grand exit from the encampment. By "grand," I mean "bloody and painful for anyone who tries to stop him." Solara, sensing that Eli is going somewhere where there's bound to be unlimited supplies of Pantene and Neutrogena, dutifully follows. After some obligatory resistance, Eli lets Solara tag along. But only after she bribes him by telling him that she will take Eli to Carnegie's secret water stash in some desert caves.
In the caves, Solara and Eli fill up their canteens. Disappointingly, there are no crates of Pantene shampoo or Neutrogena Clinical Moisturizer nearby - leaving the mystery of Solara's squeaky-clean appearance exactly that. Which is unfortunate, because if anyone needed a little shampooing and moisturizing, it's our dear, unwashed friend Eli. Solara manages to continue being his sidekick, even through a run-in with a pair of sweet and cuddly cannibals (Francis La Tour and Michael Gambon)who put the "hospital" in "hospitality."
Fortunately (or unfortunately, I suppose) Eli and Solara quickly clue in to the fact that the eager gazes of the couple are not born of loneliness, but of a burning desire for some human Prime Rib. They try to escape but are stopped by Carnegie's henchmen, who have tracked them to the quasi-Outback Steakhouse run by the Grandma and Grandpa Donner. A violent shootout ensues that kills the lovable but deadly old farts (as opposed to the silent but deadly variety), and incapacitates Eli long enough for Carnegie's men to take the Book from him. They leave Eli to die in the desert and haul Solara back with them.
Finally displaying a modicum of spunk (not the liquid kind - not this time, anyway), Solara forces the henchmen to crash their pseudo-Mad Max vehicle. Unfortunately, the henchmen in the other pseudo-Mad Max vehicle display staunch loyalty for their comrades by giving them the finger and racing back to the encampment to win beaucoup brownie points with Carnegie by returning The Book of Eli. Deciding to cut her losses, Solara takes command of the crashed vehicle and hightails in the opposite direction. Eventually she sees Eli jogging down the road like a geriatric Road Runner. She stops and offers him a ride, obviously still not getting that he doesn't find her attractive because: 1) she is not scabby enough, or 2) she is not Gary Oldman. Or anyone with a dick, for that matter.
Meanwhile, Carnegie's henchmen return to the encampment and present their literary prize to Big Daddy C. Now, in case you're wondering what the hell this book is that everyone's killing each other over, it's not the latest Harry Potter or Twilight saga. Those books might provoke a little hair-pulling and name-calling, at worst. Nope, it's a Bible, folks. And if that surprises you, then may I suggest you join my aforementioned easily-surprised acquaintance at a screening of THE SIXTH SENSE. But take your heart medicine first, as it just might kill both of you.
See, Carnegie has the notion that he can control his flock by preaching to them. This is an interesting and intriguing notion, but unfortunately his plans go to shit when he opens the book and discovers that it is all in... braille. Yes, braille. I have to admit that I liked this twist - but not as much as when he forces the blind Claudia to read it for him. Jennifer Beals displays the most powerful bit of acting in this scene when her fingers recognize the words of the Bible, as evidenced by the collage of emotions that flit across Claudia's face. Then her face hardens, and she blithely tells Carnegie that she's forgotten how to read braille. Which is the best way for a blind person to give the finger to someone who doesn't know how to read braille - and desperately needs to. Somehow, this leads to the encampment turning into a dusty version of Sodom and Gomorrah.
If you're wondering what happened to Solara and Eli... well, they finally arrived to the place where Eli was taking the book. Which is Alcatraz in San Francisco Bay. No, really. Would I make this shit up? Anyhow, it turns out the former prison island has become a bunker for survivalist and scientists intent on trying to rebuild civilization by preserving works of art and science. Solara and Eli are welcomed by a whole community of geeks and soldiers. When asked where the book is, Eli just basically grins and taps his temple. Turns out the fucker memorized the whole thing and proceeds to dictate the whole thing to a poor hapless soul who has to. handwrite. every. single. word. Now, remember... this is the Bible, guys - not Green Eggs and Ham. Suffice it to say, let's hope there are enough icepacks left in the world for the transcriber's hand.
Long story short, Eli dies right after finishing his dictation marathon. While the transcriber is taken to the infirmary to have this writing hand amputated, the endless transcripts are taken to a printing press on the island where the pages are transformed into a bound Bible that is definitely not in Braille. You'll be glad to know that it is treated in the reverential way that most people treat books they've already read - it's left on a bookshelf to collect dust. If the Bible could talk, it would say, "Thanks for nothing, assholes. I'll remember this."
THE BOOK OF ELI ends with Solara contracting Eli's madness in the sense that she deludes herself into thinking she's some sort of bad-ass loner who can navigate the post-armageddon wilderness wearing a duster and aviator sunglasses. As if distressed leather and Ray-Bans were deadly weapons. She sets out to return to the encampment in a futile effort to save Claudia - whose head, by the way, is surely a wall trophy at the local saloon by now. The audience was so busy laying bets with one another as to how long it would take before Solara got her ass handed to her to by a roving band of Road Warrior-wannabes, that most of us forgot that the movie had ended and the lights had gone up. Now, that's entertainment.
BUT, SERIOUSLY: Pretty much what I said above. THE BOOK OF ELI was so been there, done that. Which might not have mattered if the emotional core of the film was solid. But it wasn't, and I found it difficult to care about anyone in this film. Jennifer Beals as Claudia came the closest to a sympathetic character, but she has very limited screentime. When Denzel Washington is good, he is very good. When he's not, he's bland and uninteresting. Same for Gary Oldman, who seemed to be working his way down the "cultured and literate villain" playbook that Alan Rickman wrote. For once, I want to see a villain who basically is a redneck on crack who doesn't have a single sophisticated bone in his body. In a film besides DELIVERANCE, that is.
(European witches don’t carry brooms. They carry straight razors. Probably to shave their hairy pits with. Beware.)
CAST: Jessica Harper, Stefania Casini, Alida Valli, Joan Bennett, Udo Kier, Miguel Bose, Eva Axen, Barbara Magnolfi.
DIRECTOR: Dario Argento
WARNING: SPOILERS and much red splattery stuff and bad dubbing up ahead….
In 2002, I loaned my Super-Duper Edition DVD of SUSPIRIA to a friend who I thought was a fellow suspense/horror aficionado. The following week, when he returned the DVD to me, he kept giving me strange looks - usually from out of the corner of his eyes. When I asked him what was wrong, after some unconvincing protests to the contrary, he finally said, “That movie was fucking strange.” Ergo, I was strange, since I had sung its praises in the three languages I speak. Moral of the story - not everyone will get SUSPIRIA. In fact, there are two kinds of people in this world: 1) The people who don’t get SUSPIRIA, and 2) us strange folk.
Dario Argento, the director of SUSPIRIA has a special place in my heart. Yes, his films often don’t make much logical sense, which is why my friend had a hard time with SUSPIRIA. I mean, what was I thinking? That, just because he liked horror films, he would get it? Shouldn’t I have taken the fact that his favorite horror movies are the SCREAM films, as the first warning sign? SCREAM is no SUSPIRIA, and there are even those who claim that SCREAM’s opening Drew Barrymore murder sequence was inspired by SUSPIRIA’s opening double-murder. Wouldn’t surprise me. Argento’s films may not appeal to those who are accustomed to “cutesy” American horror. But on a hypnotic and dream-like level, they are intense, compelling, occasionally unintentionally funny, and most of the time, dead-on scary. SUSPIRIA is the film in his oeuvre that best exemplifies these qualities.
The film opens with a narrator telling us about American ballet student Susy Banyon (doe-eyed Jessica Harper), who has come to Germany to further her dance studies at the acclaimed Tanz Akademie. Arriving in the middle of the night, in the middle of torrential rainstorm, Susy hails a cab that takes her through the eerie and rainswept nighttime world of Frieburg. Arriving at the Akademie, Susy sees another student (Eva Axen) running out into the rain, yelling something over her shoulder. Barely seeing Susy, the girl vanishes into the surrounding forest. Deciding that it’s not her fucking problem, Susy ignores this strange event and pushes the button on the call-box by the front door. An angry voice from the other end pretty much tells Susy to go fuck herself, because there is no way she is getting in to the Akademie that night. Miffed, Susy jumps into the taxi and heads back to town. But not before seeing the girl from earlier rushing through the trees outside, rushing back to town as if there were a sale on lederhosen at the local department store.
The mystery girl arrives in town and heads straight for an apartment building that looks like the offspring of a Crayola orgy. Done up in bright reds, golds, and oranges, the building’s lobby makes the girl forget the dash through the rainy forest. Heading upstairs, the girl - whose name turns out to be Pat - barges in on a pal and pleads to let her stay the night. The friend, obviously a better person than me, says “Sure.” When questioned about why she fled the school in the middle of the night, Pat refuses to say anything except that “it’s absurd and unbelievable.” No shit, the friend thinks. It would have to be for this heifer to bust in on me in the middle of the night without even the courtesy of a phone call.
The friend leaves Pat alone in the bathroom, which turns out to be a huge mistake because an unseen someone with hairy arms and long fingernails busts through the window and drags Pat out onto the apartment roof. If you’re thinking that this must be an elaborate sex game with a boyfriend with questionable hygiene, get ready to be disappointed. Because unless the sex game included being stabbed through the heart repeatedly and Pat was not told about it in advance, it looks like she’s actually being murdered in cold blood.
Meanwhile, hearing the commotion in the locked bathroom, Pat’s friend rushes out into the hallway to pound on the doors of the other units. Her neighbors show their German sense of civic responsibility and by-the-book diligence by extending their middle fingers in the general direction of their securely locked front doors - then turning up the sound on their tellies to drown out the pounding and screaming. Pissed off that no one is falling for her number, the friend rushes down to the lobby - which turns out to be an even bigger mistake. Because the killer has dropped Pat’s dead body through the Day-glo skylight over the lobby, sending shards of glass the size of Volkswagens hurtling down to the lobby below. If you’re wondering what happens to Pat’s friend, let’s just say she ends up having a lot in common with a pin-cushion. Only pin-cushions don’t spurt fire-engine-red blood and writhe in agony.
The next day, Susy heads over to the Akademie, unaware of the fate that has befallen her missed connection from the night before. Arriving at the school, Susy meets, in short order, the following people: 1) Ms. Tanner (Alida Valli) - butch, scary, and partial to deeply unsexy footwear; and 2) Madame Blanc (Joan Bennett), named obviously because of the constant expression on her face that makes you question whether Botox was really a recent invention; and 3) Olga (Barbara Magnolfi), obviously a troublemaker of the highest order and a huge fan of Sesame Street, judging from her tendency to equate anyone with a name starting with an “S” to a snake; and 4) Sarah (Stefania Casini), a neurotic and high-strung Italian student who always seems one jolt away from pissing herself with either fear or rage. All these colorful characters swirl around Susy, each one cluing her in with their own style on life at the Akademie. If Olga is to be believed, the place is filled with money-grubbing bitches. If Sarah is to be believed, they’re all just bitches.
Naturally, news of Pat’s murder spreads like wildfire through the school. Olga, ever the sensitive one, tells Susy that Pat deserved it because she was such a busybody. Sarah, on the other hand, takes exception to this because Pat was her best friend. Obviously, the truth lies somewhere in between, and it’s this truth that Susy becomes interested in ferreting out. Who killed Pat? Why did she take off in the middle of the night like that? Who was on the call-box that told Susy to take her ass to a hotel in town? What’s up with those hairstyles? Is all the griping and bickering between these women simply sexual tension begging to be released in an all-out, go for broke, Euro-lesbian orgy? Am I sleazebag?
Anyhow, shit gets even stranger when a maggot infestation in the dormitory (you read that right) forces the girls to camp out in the practice halls, where Sarah hears a strange kind of snoring that makes her conclude to Susy that the teaching staff are a bunch of no-good, lying whores. If you’re wondering how “snoring” could lead her to such an “a-ha!” moment, then you obviously have not seen many Dario Argento movies. Suffice it to say, it actually kind of makes sense in a thoroughly “WTF?” way. Later, Daniel the blind piano man calls Ms. Tanner a bitch when she insults his loyal dog. Upset that Daniel can still see the truth despite his lack of sight, Ms. Tanner fires his “just keeping it real” ass. Fairly chortling with glee, Daniel pulls on his coat while yelling, “Fresh air! Get me out of this goddamn place!” His joy is short-lived, however, when his “loyal dog” shows its fidelity by ripping out Daniel’s larynx right in the middle of the town square. Coincidence? Bitch, please...
Convinced now that something sinister is afoot at the Tanz Akademie that is more than just a bunch of sniveling little divas with too much time and hormones and too little brain cells on their hands, Susy and Sarah team up to solve the mystery. Sarah confesses that it was her on the call-box that first night when Susy arrived. It’s a testament to either Susy’s generous nature or Dario Argento’s firm grasp on realistic behavior that Susy doesn’t drop-kick Sarah across the school while screaming, “Bitch! I almost caught pneumonia out there!“ Instead, she just accepts his revelation. Then again, when you’ve had to listen to someone use strange snoring as empirical evidence that a conspiracy is afoot, you tend to err on the side of caution and just agree with everything the whackjob is saying. Susy also just nods when Sarah insists on sharing her notes on the mysterious events, knowing what’s best for her.
Fortunately, before Sarah can show Susy the notes that she’d been compiling with Pat before her murder, Sarah is attacked by a cloaked assailant. Fleeing through the darkened school, Sarah escapes into the attic, where she eventually finds herself tangled in a sea of barbed wire (don‘t ask). The killer finally catches up to her. It won’t come as a surprise that, instead of lending a helping hand, he slashes Sarah’s throat with a straight razor. You wouldn’t know this from the look of shock on Sarah’s face afterward as she dies. As if she’s thinking, “I didn’t think the fucker would actually do it.” Guess again, lady.
Susy wakes up the next day to realize that Sarah has disappeared, and that she herself is pretty much fucked because of a little thing called “Guilt by Association.” Realizing she’s probably next, Susy gets motivated and starts researching the history of the Tanz Akademie. She finds out from Sarah’s ahead-of-his-time Metrosexual pal Frank Mendel (Udo Kier) that the school was founded by one Elena Markos - a woman reputed to be a powerful witch. Before you can say “endless exposition scene,” Frank has pulled out a Powerpoint presentation and outlined the twisted history of the school to a hapless Susy. Dazed, she returns to the school that night only to find out that all the other students and staff have gone to a ballet opening, leaving Susy alone with the two school cooks who look like the German versions of Buffalo Bill from THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS. Not a good sign, folks.
Bored out of her skull with nothing to do or no one to talk to, Susy resumes investigating the history of the school. Her exploits eventually take her to Madame Blanc’s private office which looks like a cross between a coloring book and a whorehouse. Using deductive reasoning that would only fly in an Argento movie, Susy figures out the entrance code to a hidden passageway that involves three irises (once again, don’t ask). Following the tunnel beyond, Susy eventually finds a curtained room where it is revealed that the teaching staff are WITCHES! No, I mean seriously - they’re WITCHES. Actual WITCHES. Literally! Not just thoroughly unpleasant women. But thoroughly unpleasant women who can put a curse on your ass or force your dog to rip your throat out.
Fortunately, Susy has great strength of will and remembers something from that interminable history lesson that Frank gave her: if you kill the head of a witch coven, the entire coven dies, too. Armed with this knowledge, Susy escapes into what turns out to be Elana Markos’ private chamber, which resembles Madame Blanc’s, but even more whorehouse-like. If that’s possible. Confronted by the spunky American, Elana just laughs and taunts Susy repeatedly, thinking that turning invisible will save her from being attacked. Unfortunately, Elana also forgot to lose some weight because, even though she’s disappeared, her fat ass still leaves an indentation on the mattress beneath her. Indicating she hasn’t moved an inch. Ooops.
Needless to say, Susy stabs the living shit out of the empty air in front of her, which mortally wounds the not-so-bright Elana, making one wonder how the hell she got to be Head Witch. As she lies on her bed, dying, Elana materializes into view and reaches out to try to claw Susy. Susy, in turn, gives her a “bitch, please, you know you're fucked” look and hightails it out into the passageway, where she sees the rest of the coven dying. Or it could be just the lesbian orgy finally happening. Hard to say. Either way, Susy wants none of it and runs out of the collapsing building for the safety of the rainy parking lot. The last shot is of her with a shit-eating grin, rushing down the front steps of the school. The only thing missing is her doing a fist pump in the air while yelling, “I went to Germany to learn ballet, and instead I kicked the Wicked Witch of the West’s Ass! Boo-Yah!”
BUT, SERIOUSLY: As someone who also appreciates SUSPIRIA once told me, “If it weren’t for this film’s atmosphere, cinematography, sets, and music score, I would use the DVD as a beer coaster.” I think that he‘s right - to a point. No matter how brilliant the film elements are, the movie would have failed if it didn’t have such a strong heroine in Susy Banyon, and a capable actress like Jessica Harper playing her. The stars aligned when Dario Argento was making this movie. The script itself is pretty threadbare and only serviceable. However, what makes the story work is the casting of Jessica Harper as Susy Banyon. Harper’s interpretation of Susy is what hooks us for the ride. Sweet and unassuming, but with a stubborn and willful streak, Susy is a good heroine. Because of her, all the outlandish stuff unfolding around everyone almost makes sense.
But Argento’s skill at creating atmosphere and terror is also integral to SUSPIRIA’s success. The suspense sequences are first-rate, particulary Sarah’s extended stalking sequence and eventual death in the barbed-wire field - orchestrated to Goblin‘s nerve-wracking score. These images and sounds are the stuff that nightmares are made of, and Dario Argento understands that fear is not rooted in logic. SUSPIRIA is basically an exploration of that - and it remains one of the scariest films out there.
Let’s hope that the upcoming remake supposedly starring Natalie Portman doesn’t stink too much.
THE KARATE KID (2010 - ACTION/DRAMA) **** out of *****
(The spawn of Will Smith vows that no one will ever beat the shit out of him ever again - so he learns Karate. Er, Kung fu… Wait, so why is this thing called “The Karate--” Oh, forget it.)
CAST: Jaden Smith, Jackie Chan, Taraji P. Henson, Han Wenwen, Zhenwei Wang, Rongguang Yu.
DIRECTOR: Harald Zwart.
WARNING: SPOILERS and gross Chinese snacks and title confusion up ahead...
There’s a four-question test that will reveal whether or not you will enjoy THE KARATE KID remake: 1) How much did you enjoy the original starring Ralph Macchio and Pat Morita? 2) Do you prefer your films set in familiar surroundings, or strange and exotic ones? 3) Do you have any reservations about Will Smith? 4) Do you have problems with illogical titles?
These are all important questions because: 1) If you didn’t care for the original KARATE KID, you will likely not give a dog’s dick about this iteration, and 2) If you don’t like watching films set in places where they eat scorpions and preying mantis and other vile insects on stick, you will probably vomit right in your seat, and 3) If you don’t like Will Smith, then you won’t take kindly to his Mini-Me (read: son Jaden) being in almost every single scene of this movie, and (4) If you hate movie titles that have absolutely nothing to do with the movies they are attached to, then…. Bottom line: if more than two of the preceding four possibilities apply, you might as well take your disgruntled ass down to TOY STORY 3.
So…. Here are my answers: 1) Loved the original KARATE KID, and 2) the more exotic the setting, the better, and 3) Will Smith is my Godfather, which makes his son my brother, and (4) well…. Hmmm… Okay, fine: I guess I don’t understand why the fuck they called it THE KARATE KID if, this time around, they’re learning Kung-Fu. Or am I being the average illiterate American? So, I guess… 3 out of 4? Which still keeps me on the side of Pro, as far as this movie is concerned.
The movie kicks off with single mom Sherry Parker (Taraji P. Henson) and son Dre (Will Smith’s walking DNA sample, Jaden) moving from Detroit to Beijing, where Sherry has taken a job at a car factory. Presumably, it’s a pretty high-level position because: 1) no company would pay for a secretary to move across the Pacific, and 2) Sherry and Dre are greeted by a smiling Chinese corporate rep who pronounces their name “Pucker,” and 3) mother and son are deposited at a highrise apartment building called “Beverly Hills Luxury Apartments.” Ever the optimist, Sherry crows about how they’ve always wanted to live in Beverly Hills. Dre helpfully points out that he always meant the one on the OTHER side of the Pacific. Like, you know, the direction they came from?
No matter. Mom is so determined to make a go of this new job and home, and encourages Dre to go out and explore his new neighborhood. During one of Dre’s wanderings, he meets the building maintenance man, Han (Jackie Chan). Dre’s initial impression of Han is that the he’s one gross and weird mo-fo, because: 1) he completely ignores Dre, and (2) he interrupts his lunch of noodles to catch a fly with his chopsticks, and 3) without running the chopsticks under scalding hot water or disinfectant, he goes right back to using them to stuff noodles into his whiskered Chinese trap. As you can imagine, this leaves quite a mark on young Dre, as evidenced by the way he turns tail and dashes for the safety of home and clean eating utensils. Probably afraid that if he stays any longer, Han will force him to eat noodles with the same chopsticks.
During another one Dre’s explorations, he meets shy and pretty Meiying (Han Wenwen), who is into playing the violin and smiling coyly at mini-Will-Smiths with Predator dreadlocks. Sensing that he’s got a shot, Dre hams it up by pulling a mid-80’s robotic moonwalk dance move. Fortunately, China is probably at least 20 years behind the United States when it comes to pop-culture, so Meiying has no idea that she is witnessing something that a more sophisticated audience would have busted out laughing at - after staring at each other in utter disbelief, that is. Even more fortunately, local school-bully Cheng (Zhenwei Wang) happens to be nearby and is one such sophisticated person, and sees Dre’s moonwalk-spasm for the anachronistic posturing that it is. Doing the responsible thing, Cheng comes over to save Dre from further embarassment - by smacking him upside the head. Again. And again - and again. Until Dre is left cowering on the ground, cursing the day he ever listened to his father Will’s counsel on how to bag the babes.
This animosity between Dre and Cheng builds to a fever pitch until, one day, Dre is cornered by Cheng and his pack of Cheng-lookalikes. Determined to punish Dre for bringing dishonor to China by moonwalking/robotdancing (badly) in broad daylight, Cheng and his clones beat the tar out of Dre. Just as he’s about to deliver the death blow and save China from even more misguided ‘80’s dance moves, Cheng fist is blocked by - SURPRISE - Han, the maintenance man who doesn’t mind sharing his chopstick with dead flies. Han proceeds to mop the floor with Cheng and company. Later, Han and Dre (who is so grateful for being saved that he is willing to forget Han’s gross incident with the chopsticks and the fly) visit the Kung-Fu school where Cheng and his rat pack squirm under the tutelage of Master Li (Rongguang Yu). Master Li, it should be noted, either has the worst haircut known to man (think a bowl cut spliced with the 'do of Mo from the Three Stooges), or is really bald and has the worst toupee known to man. Either way, it’s understandable that he’s somewhat bitter and takes out his frustration about his horrible hair on his poor students - who then, in turn, take out their frustration on Dre for his fourth-rate dance moves. Bad hair begets violence, apparently.
Han challenges Master Li to let Dre face off against Cheng and his entourage in the Open Kung-Fu tournament (Again I ask: why is this called THE KARATE KID? Okay, I’ll stop now). In the original, Pat Morita surreptitiously trained Daniel-san by forcing him to wax his car and paint his house. Evidently, the moves that Daniel was using to accomplish this forced slave labor was actually building the Karate muscles in his limbs. In the remake, Han forces Dre to take off his jacket, toss it onto the floor, hang it up - the do it all over again - for at least 78,000,000 times. Just when Dre can’t take it anymore, Han launches a barrage of punches and kicks at him - and lo and behold: the baby Predator is able to fend off the aging Chinaman as if he were a Kung Fu master-in-training. Which I guess he is (again, why is this called KARATE K--- Stop. STOP!).
Anyhow, it all culminates at a grand tournament just like the original did. Dre and Cheng face off against their respective opponents, whittling down the list until they are the only two left. As with the original, the final battle to the death is tense and exciting, even more so here because the deft editing makes the punches and kicks land with real intensity. Eventually, Dre remembers a technique that he learned when he accompanied Han to a remote mountain top shrine where a female Shaolin warrior basically dirty-danced with Cobra, hypnotizing the snake into a daze. Dre uses this move on Cheng, who understandably is perturbed as to why this dreadlocked, pint-sized Will Smith is suddenly making googley eyes at him. Paralyzed by a moment of homophobia, Cheng can only watch as Dre seizes the opportunity to leap into the air and bitch-kick Cheng into the next dimension. So basically, Dre uses the tried-and-true “Bugs Bunny Bats his Eyelashes at Elmer Fudd” technique to vanquish his enemy. Who said cartoons were of no value?
BUT, SERIOUSLY: While the freshness factor is understandably less present in THE KARATE KID 2010 because it is a remake, the Chinese setting actually allows the film to stake some ground that its predecessor didn’t. It’s really cool to see everyday China portrayed without a gauze of glamour. Everything feels and looks realistic and commonplace. This helps us relate to the characters because we end up seeing them as real human beings, and not idealized archetypes moving through a rose-colored exotic locale. Jaden Smith does well, and has his father’s screen presence. It’ll be interesting to see how he develops his talent. Jackie Chan was surprisingly touching and compelling in this. He actually is able to sell the seriousness of his character, while leavening it a little with his trademark humor. Taraji P. Henson and Han Wenwen are both warm and appealing as the central females of the story. All in all, this one of the best remakes ever…
But I still don’t understand why they call it KARATE KID if he actually studied Kung-Fu? Okay, goddamnit…. I’m going to STOP.
