The recent trend of horror movies released on Super Bowl weekend continues this year with THE EYE. No, it’s not a Sauron biopic (ba dum chik) but the American remake of the popular Japanese thriller in the vein of THE RING and THE GRUDGE. But horror would be an odd way to describe the film; there are barely any frights to speak of. Instead we are subjected to 100 minutes of Jessica Alba doing her best to act terrified and concerned.
Blind violinist Sydney Wells (Alba) whose sight is restored after a double corneal transplant, but her reconciliation with the visual world does not go as smoothly as planned. She begins seeing things she shouldn’t; people who aren’t really there, rooms shifting into others and dark, unsettling shadowy figures following people around. At first, her sister (Parker Posey) and doctor (Alessandro Nivola) attribute it to mental confusion, but Sydney is convinced there is something supernatural going on. She becomes determined to find whose eyes she has inherited, and what dark secret they possessed that has now been passed to her.
The genuine scares are few and far between. In fact, the scariest thing about THE EYE is the directors’ apparent belief that jump-scares are the only way to frighten an audience these days. Very little effort is put into creating a suspenseful mood. Instead, the film relies mostly on clichés to let an audience know what they should find frightening (people walking too slowly, children repeating lines over and over, flickering lights, etc.) Alba is just barely adequate in her role; she occasionally musters an expression that passes for terror, but she delivers most of her lines in a bright, chipper I’ll-get-through-it-somehow manner. And when she attempts pure drama with gems like, “These eyes aren’t my eyes!”, she doesn’t come off as remotely sincere. Also, I don’t know in what world Jessica Alba and Parker Posey would be sisters, but whatever.
The intriguing premise is shortchanged by its screenplay, and not just because of the golden dialogue as seen above. It seems to have been broken up into parts: set-up, the scary part, the discovery part and the big climax. The scary part isn’t really all that scary, unless you’d be scared by anyone grabbing your arm at any time and in any place. And after that, it gets even worse; it gets boring. The film completely ignores all need to be suspenseful when it begins answering questions, and the answers are far too typical and bland to sustain interest. And the film’s “big” climax may be the shortest, unexciting sequence in a horror film in years.
THE EYE is another step down in the Japanese horror remake trend. Understandably, this is a downward spiral that began when the trend did, but this film is a missed opportunity. It takes a clever premise and only half develops it, favoring instead to churn out something quick that horror junkies and teens will rush to on the first weekend. Well… at least Alba was given better contacts than she was in FANTASTIC FOUR 2. That’s about all that can be said.
*/****
Friday, February 1, 2008
Friday, January 25, 2008
Cassandra's Dream
No doubt hoping to recapture the success of his 2005 thriller MATCH POINT, legendary writer/director Woody Allen returns with CASSANDRA’S DREAM, a family thriller that is slight but manages to be entertaining if one is willing to accept several lapses in common sense or reason. It doesn’t rank with Allen’s best by any means, but thanks to some intriguing performances, the film manages to stay just barely on the good side of melodramatic.
Two working class London brothers Ian and Terry (Scottish Ewan McGregor and Irish Colin Farrell) have just found the sailboat of their dreams. Thanks to a prolonged stroke of luck at cards and at the dogtrack, Terry is able to secure the money and “Cassandra’s Dream” becomes theirs. Both brothers are barely able to survive financially; Terry works as a mechanic when not betting or drinking and Ian finds himself arranging numerous business ventures while keeping an eye on his father’s failing restaurant. Both are constantly reminded of what could be when they talk about their Uncle Howard (Tom Wilkinson), an extremely successful plastic surgeon. But soon Terry’s gambling catches up with them and Ian is caught up with a beautiful young actress (newcomer Hayley Atwell), and both are in desperate need of money. Uncle Howard will solve all their financial problems, if they do a favor for him in return. He’s come under investigation, and some old partners of his need taking care of.
Much like MATCH POINT, there is a crime involved and the psychological complications that result. But where the inadequacies in planning and production of the act were tantalizing in the former film, here they just feel like carelessness. Even the set-up of the plot has glaringly obvious complications. But if the viewer is willing to accept these faults, the film becomes much more enjoyable. After all, the point of the film appears to be irony (the word itself is muttered many times), maybe it’s all part of Allen’s master plan. Indeed, so many integral plot points veer between laziness in writing and execution and apparent intentional stupidity. Yet as the film winds down to its close, it becomes more focused on family (the other big point of the film) and it is all the better for it. The final sequence, though plagued by a disappointing “tell-don’t-show” epilogue, is the most suspenseful part of the film by far.
There are some very intriguing aspects to the film, things one might not find in a Woody Allen. Most noticeable is its original score by Philip Glass, a rarity for an Allen film. The score adds a great deal of suspense to the proceedings, and ranks among Glass’s finest compositions for the screen. And for once, no one takes on the “Woody Allen” role- there are no comically neurotic characters stuttering over every word. Unfortunately, this leads to a parade of endlessly serious people, so the absence of the wannabe neurotic is a mixed blessing. Allen’s once unmatchable dialogue also sputters and falters here; this may be the only film you see this year where two adults describe having sex as “doing it”. But the film is performed admirably on all counts, minus Colin Farrell’s tendency to overact (only when he is speaking, of course). Most intriguing are the film’s lead actresses, newcomer Atwell and the charming Sally Hawkins as Terry’s girlfriend. Both are relegated to strictly supporting roles and are sadly two-dimensional. Yet they craft the most complex portrayals, and the viewer often longs for their appearance.
Allen still appears to be riding on his newfound wave of creativity that began with MATCH POINT. Though it is far from perfect, compare CASSANDRA’S DREAM to CURSE OF THE JADE SCORPION or ANYTHING ELSE and you’ll find a world of difference. It’s an entertaining little thriller, one that could definitely have used some improvements, but is fine enough as it is. This type of story has been told before, likely more effectively. Yet for Allen’s fans, there’s always something special to find.
**/****
Two working class London brothers Ian and Terry (Scottish Ewan McGregor and Irish Colin Farrell) have just found the sailboat of their dreams. Thanks to a prolonged stroke of luck at cards and at the dogtrack, Terry is able to secure the money and “Cassandra’s Dream” becomes theirs. Both brothers are barely able to survive financially; Terry works as a mechanic when not betting or drinking and Ian finds himself arranging numerous business ventures while keeping an eye on his father’s failing restaurant. Both are constantly reminded of what could be when they talk about their Uncle Howard (Tom Wilkinson), an extremely successful plastic surgeon. But soon Terry’s gambling catches up with them and Ian is caught up with a beautiful young actress (newcomer Hayley Atwell), and both are in desperate need of money. Uncle Howard will solve all their financial problems, if they do a favor for him in return. He’s come under investigation, and some old partners of his need taking care of.
Much like MATCH POINT, there is a crime involved and the psychological complications that result. But where the inadequacies in planning and production of the act were tantalizing in the former film, here they just feel like carelessness. Even the set-up of the plot has glaringly obvious complications. But if the viewer is willing to accept these faults, the film becomes much more enjoyable. After all, the point of the film appears to be irony (the word itself is muttered many times), maybe it’s all part of Allen’s master plan. Indeed, so many integral plot points veer between laziness in writing and execution and apparent intentional stupidity. Yet as the film winds down to its close, it becomes more focused on family (the other big point of the film) and it is all the better for it. The final sequence, though plagued by a disappointing “tell-don’t-show” epilogue, is the most suspenseful part of the film by far.
There are some very intriguing aspects to the film, things one might not find in a Woody Allen. Most noticeable is its original score by Philip Glass, a rarity for an Allen film. The score adds a great deal of suspense to the proceedings, and ranks among Glass’s finest compositions for the screen. And for once, no one takes on the “Woody Allen” role- there are no comically neurotic characters stuttering over every word. Unfortunately, this leads to a parade of endlessly serious people, so the absence of the wannabe neurotic is a mixed blessing. Allen’s once unmatchable dialogue also sputters and falters here; this may be the only film you see this year where two adults describe having sex as “doing it”. But the film is performed admirably on all counts, minus Colin Farrell’s tendency to overact (only when he is speaking, of course). Most intriguing are the film’s lead actresses, newcomer Atwell and the charming Sally Hawkins as Terry’s girlfriend. Both are relegated to strictly supporting roles and are sadly two-dimensional. Yet they craft the most complex portrayals, and the viewer often longs for their appearance.
Allen still appears to be riding on his newfound wave of creativity that began with MATCH POINT. Though it is far from perfect, compare CASSANDRA’S DREAM to CURSE OF THE JADE SCORPION or ANYTHING ELSE and you’ll find a world of difference. It’s an entertaining little thriller, one that could definitely have used some improvements, but is fine enough as it is. This type of story has been told before, likely more effectively. Yet for Allen’s fans, there’s always something special to find.
**/****
Friday, January 18, 2008
Cloverfield
A surefire marketing campaign ongoing for months has already insured producer J.J. Abrams’s disaster film CLOVERFIELD’s initial success; most of its audience will likely know next to nothing about the actual film before seeing it. In this day and age that is a feat in itself, but does CLOVERFIELD live up to the hype? The answer is mostly yes. Taking the hand-camera “realism” popularized with THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT and pushing it to the highest possible level, the film puts the viewer in the characters’ shoes as never before and it sticks strictly to that code, which is one of its biggest assets. CLOVERFIELD is all about being in the moment and doesn’t waste time with answers, all leading up to one hell of a thrillride.
The film, shot entirely from the P.O.V. of a camcorder, starts off casually (and boringly) enough; a farewell party for Rob (Michael Stahl-David), who’s about to take an important job in Japan. But, as is required when large groups of attractive twentysomethings come together, there is drama; the meeting between Rob and his true love Beth (Odette Yustman) is their first since their one-night-stand weeks ago and she storms out early in the party. Only a few moments later, Manhattan is shaken with what appears to be an earthquake. A few firebolts and one flying Statue of Liberty head later, the partygoers realize there’s something attacking the city. They make to flee, but Rob gets a call from Beth; she’s hurt and only he can save her. So Rob, along with four other friends venture back into the city to find Beth and outrun the terrifying presence stalking the city.
The filmmakers seemed to hold realism above all else; there are jumps in the tape during explosions, cuts to earlier shot footage when the camera is turned off and all the shakiness a stomach can handle. The film’s many visual effects (such as the now instantly-recognizable flying statue head) are integrated into the handheld footage incredibly well. Many of the film’s most effective scares come from how well the effects fit in with the real action, a strength only emphasized by the failure of films like THE MIST to do so in the past. Match this with the intricate and masterful sound work done here and you’ve got yourself a genuine experience. What is heard is just as important as what is seen, and since the images are often too shaky to be clear, what we hear is our only clue to what is happening. While not much can be said about the film without spoiling something, it is indeed very tense and, at times, genuinely frightening.
Despite all its strength, there were a few nagging flaws that detracted from the whole. For a film that strived for as much realism as possible, there certainly are a lot of coincidences. The characters just seem to happen upon every major event in the attack on the city, from the Statue of Liberty’s head landing on their street to, well, everything else. The camera operator, aside from being emotionally stunted (sticking in tired jokes whenever he can), must have had his hand glued to the camera. A reason for filming everything is given early on- “people will want to see how it all went down”- but still. The film prides itself on realism so much, showing its characters as archetypes of what anyone would do in such a situation, but it seems much more likely that any extra objects slowing people down (such as the camera) would be dumped after a while, under the circumstances.
But still, CLOVERFIELD accomplishes what most horror films cannot do these days; manage to be decent. In fact, it’s much more than decent. It may be the most effective horror film to come out in quite some time. Unrelenting and unforgiving, it will keep audiences in perpetual terror once it gets going. While its end result may leave some cold and unaffected, its power during the heart of the film is undeniable. In the end, it’s nothing revolutionary, but it does push boundaries and succeeds quite nicely.
***/****
The film, shot entirely from the P.O.V. of a camcorder, starts off casually (and boringly) enough; a farewell party for Rob (Michael Stahl-David), who’s about to take an important job in Japan. But, as is required when large groups of attractive twentysomethings come together, there is drama; the meeting between Rob and his true love Beth (Odette Yustman) is their first since their one-night-stand weeks ago and she storms out early in the party. Only a few moments later, Manhattan is shaken with what appears to be an earthquake. A few firebolts and one flying Statue of Liberty head later, the partygoers realize there’s something attacking the city. They make to flee, but Rob gets a call from Beth; she’s hurt and only he can save her. So Rob, along with four other friends venture back into the city to find Beth and outrun the terrifying presence stalking the city.
The filmmakers seemed to hold realism above all else; there are jumps in the tape during explosions, cuts to earlier shot footage when the camera is turned off and all the shakiness a stomach can handle. The film’s many visual effects (such as the now instantly-recognizable flying statue head) are integrated into the handheld footage incredibly well. Many of the film’s most effective scares come from how well the effects fit in with the real action, a strength only emphasized by the failure of films like THE MIST to do so in the past. Match this with the intricate and masterful sound work done here and you’ve got yourself a genuine experience. What is heard is just as important as what is seen, and since the images are often too shaky to be clear, what we hear is our only clue to what is happening. While not much can be said about the film without spoiling something, it is indeed very tense and, at times, genuinely frightening.
Despite all its strength, there were a few nagging flaws that detracted from the whole. For a film that strived for as much realism as possible, there certainly are a lot of coincidences. The characters just seem to happen upon every major event in the attack on the city, from the Statue of Liberty’s head landing on their street to, well, everything else. The camera operator, aside from being emotionally stunted (sticking in tired jokes whenever he can), must have had his hand glued to the camera. A reason for filming everything is given early on- “people will want to see how it all went down”- but still. The film prides itself on realism so much, showing its characters as archetypes of what anyone would do in such a situation, but it seems much more likely that any extra objects slowing people down (such as the camera) would be dumped after a while, under the circumstances.
But still, CLOVERFIELD accomplishes what most horror films cannot do these days; manage to be decent. In fact, it’s much more than decent. It may be the most effective horror film to come out in quite some time. Unrelenting and unforgiving, it will keep audiences in perpetual terror once it gets going. While its end result may leave some cold and unaffected, its power during the heart of the film is undeniable. In the end, it’s nothing revolutionary, but it does push boundaries and succeeds quite nicely.
***/****
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
There Will Be Blood
Most will agree that Daniel Day-Lewis is in the uppermost echelon of working actors today, if not the best. Unfortunately, he only appears every few years to appear in a film, so when he does it becomes a big deal. Couple his return to screens with the first Paul Thomas Anderson film since 2002’s underwhelming PUNCH DRUNK LOVE and THERE WILL BE BLOOD becomes a must-see sight unseen. Inspired by the Upton Sinclair novel “Oil!”, Anderson’s film is an ambitious work that stretches his abilities as a writer and director, resulting in a piece that may surprise fans of BOOGIE NIGHTS and MAGNOLIA. It is a difficult film to like and the makers don’t do the viewer any favors, but it is an achievement to be respected nonetheless.
Oil man Daniel Plainview (Day-Lewis) is an unforgiving man moving from town to town, scavenging for oil wells. He works up from a small, single hand-made well in the middle of nowhere (entrancingly depicted in the film’s prologue, completely devoid of dialogue) to a sizable envoy of men. After receiving an enigmatic tip, Plainview and his young son H.W. (wide-eyed Dillon Fraser) travel to the small Sunday ranch in Little Boston, where Plainview finds “an ocean of oil” beneath their feet. Yet his giant success does not come easy; he finds an enemy in Sunday’s son, self-proclaimed healer and church leader Eli Sunday (Paul Dano), who uses his power to sway members of the congregation for his own vanity and financial needs.
Plainview is not a likable person; in many cases, he is as corrupt and jaded as the film’s supposed villains. Yet Day-Lewis is completely mesmerizing, keeping the viewer enthralled by his sheer determinism and terrifying demeanor. In certain scenes, he emits such a ferocity without words that is truly frightening. As such, the film carries a great deal of suspense, automatically sending viewers into winces and shivers when Day-Lewis turns his eye to madness. His brilliance is perhaps emphasized by Dano, who turns in a rather unintentionally funny performance. As Eli, he is menacing enough and quite effective when performing in his chruch, yet he squeals and twists his face in a manner meant that quickly grows irritating. He suffers when put up against Day-Lewis, whose masterful and polished performance emphasizes the faults in Dano's.
Anderson shows tremendous growth as a director. Completely rejecting the intellectual quirkiness that defined BOOGIE NIGHTS and MAGNOLIA and hampered PUNCH DRUNK LOVE. He immerses his style completely in the era, working with cinematographer Robert Elswit to create a cold, sparse world, a place that perfectly reflects Plainview’s outlook on life. Johnny Greenwood’s unusual and electrifying score keeps the film from becoming just another period piece, emphasizing the alienating and unnerving aspects of the film; a great source of the film’s tension comes from Greenwood’s screeching violins.
The film moves at its own pace, taking more than 2.5 hours to tell its story. The extended sequences of quiet, apart from the wordless dialogue, will likely try the patience of some viewers while thrilling others. Anderson is not afraid to stray from the main storyline, no matter how inconsequential it may seem. Yet there are sequences of sheer brilliance that will stay in memory long after the film is done; the aforementioned prologue, the explosive discovery of oil at the Sunday ranch, Plainview’s humiliating introduction to the church and the curiously-set finale, among many others. THERE WILL BE BLOOD is definitely a film that must be seen to be believed. It will likely have as many lovers as haters, and that is perhaps the clearest sign of its achievement. Anderson and Day-Lewis have contributed outstanding work after long absences. One can only hope their next appearances will not take as long.
***1/2/****
Oil man Daniel Plainview (Day-Lewis) is an unforgiving man moving from town to town, scavenging for oil wells. He works up from a small, single hand-made well in the middle of nowhere (entrancingly depicted in the film’s prologue, completely devoid of dialogue) to a sizable envoy of men. After receiving an enigmatic tip, Plainview and his young son H.W. (wide-eyed Dillon Fraser) travel to the small Sunday ranch in Little Boston, where Plainview finds “an ocean of oil” beneath their feet. Yet his giant success does not come easy; he finds an enemy in Sunday’s son, self-proclaimed healer and church leader Eli Sunday (Paul Dano), who uses his power to sway members of the congregation for his own vanity and financial needs.
Plainview is not a likable person; in many cases, he is as corrupt and jaded as the film’s supposed villains. Yet Day-Lewis is completely mesmerizing, keeping the viewer enthralled by his sheer determinism and terrifying demeanor. In certain scenes, he emits such a ferocity without words that is truly frightening. As such, the film carries a great deal of suspense, automatically sending viewers into winces and shivers when Day-Lewis turns his eye to madness. His brilliance is perhaps emphasized by Dano, who turns in a rather unintentionally funny performance. As Eli, he is menacing enough and quite effective when performing in his chruch, yet he squeals and twists his face in a manner meant that quickly grows irritating. He suffers when put up against Day-Lewis, whose masterful and polished performance emphasizes the faults in Dano's.
Anderson shows tremendous growth as a director. Completely rejecting the intellectual quirkiness that defined BOOGIE NIGHTS and MAGNOLIA and hampered PUNCH DRUNK LOVE. He immerses his style completely in the era, working with cinematographer Robert Elswit to create a cold, sparse world, a place that perfectly reflects Plainview’s outlook on life. Johnny Greenwood’s unusual and electrifying score keeps the film from becoming just another period piece, emphasizing the alienating and unnerving aspects of the film; a great source of the film’s tension comes from Greenwood’s screeching violins.
The film moves at its own pace, taking more than 2.5 hours to tell its story. The extended sequences of quiet, apart from the wordless dialogue, will likely try the patience of some viewers while thrilling others. Anderson is not afraid to stray from the main storyline, no matter how inconsequential it may seem. Yet there are sequences of sheer brilliance that will stay in memory long after the film is done; the aforementioned prologue, the explosive discovery of oil at the Sunday ranch, Plainview’s humiliating introduction to the church and the curiously-set finale, among many others. THERE WILL BE BLOOD is definitely a film that must be seen to be believed. It will likely have as many lovers as haters, and that is perhaps the clearest sign of its achievement. Anderson and Day-Lewis have contributed outstanding work after long absences. One can only hope their next appearances will not take as long.
***1/2/****
Friday, December 28, 2007
Walk Hard
With three R-rated comedy mega hits under his belt, it would appear that Judd Apatow could do no wrong. With co-writer and director Jake Kasdan, Apatow takes a stab at the spoof, which has become the lowest form of cinematic “comedy” these days (see DATE MOVIE, EPIC MOVIE and the upcoming MEET THE SPARTANS). Deriding the recent wave of musical biopics, WALK HARD: THE DEWEY COX story is only moderately successful. It’s side-splittingly funny in parts, but 96 minutes spent spoofing two or three movies leaves the viewer with a rather empty feeling.
Taking mostly from WALK THE LINE, the film tells the epic life of music superstar Dewey Cox (John C. Reilly), a Johnny Cash-like guitar man who rises to fame in the early 60s, falls in the 70s when he interacts with drinking and drugs, and finds redemption just in time to receive a lifetime achievement award. After losing his prodigal brother in a machete accident, young Dewey channels his inner guilt and rage at his father’s alienation into a new kind of music that angers elders and drives youngsters to grinding dances. He quickly rises to fame, despite being stuck with a skeptical and usually pregnant wife (Kristen Wiig). He goes through the roller coasters that seem to strike every musician; his band members introduce him to drugs and later desert him. He meets his true love (Jenna Fischer) while still married, though he doesn’t quite realize how that system works.
Most of the jokes are based on 2005’s WALK THE LINE, and the main storyline is a near copy; there are a few dashes of RAY thrown in (Dewey suffers a lost sense of smell). The problem is that with a spoof, making fun of only one film quickly grows tiresome. What made early spoofs like AIRPLANE successes were the amount of films referenced in them, no matter whether they had anything to do with the plot or not. There are a few related bits that remain funny throughout; machete motifs and the constant references to characters’ ages are a few. But the more successful bits are actually the raunchy R-rated jokes that hold no bearing on the plot. The film’s many songs are likely its greatest attribute. Performed wonderfully by Reilly, they display the writers at their most creative and cleverest. From the innuendo-filled “Let’s Duet” to the catchy title song to the genuinely affecting “A Life Without You”, the songs quickly become the most memorable thing about the film.
Unfortunately, star Reilly doesn’t bring much to the table. Playing basically the same character he did in last year’s TALLADEGA NIGHTS, his comic abilities seem to have lessened in the transition from supporting role to leading. He sings admirably, but the “aw, shucks” dumb guy shtick grows as tired as the jokes. His other bits seem taken directly from his past co-stars, the most notable being his Incredible Hulk-fused version of the running around in underwear made, Will Ferrell style. Wiig and Tim Meadows come off with the best gags in the film; Wiig manages to make her one-joke character humorous throughout while Meadows’s spirited protestations against the effects of pot and cocaine are probably the funniest thing in the film. In the end, however, WALK HARD isn’t as funny as its spoof predecessors, though it is mercifully a step above recent offerings. The musical biopic genre is ripe for parody, but every spoof requires a wider eye to keep from growing stale or repetitive.
**/****
Taking mostly from WALK THE LINE, the film tells the epic life of music superstar Dewey Cox (John C. Reilly), a Johnny Cash-like guitar man who rises to fame in the early 60s, falls in the 70s when he interacts with drinking and drugs, and finds redemption just in time to receive a lifetime achievement award. After losing his prodigal brother in a machete accident, young Dewey channels his inner guilt and rage at his father’s alienation into a new kind of music that angers elders and drives youngsters to grinding dances. He quickly rises to fame, despite being stuck with a skeptical and usually pregnant wife (Kristen Wiig). He goes through the roller coasters that seem to strike every musician; his band members introduce him to drugs and later desert him. He meets his true love (Jenna Fischer) while still married, though he doesn’t quite realize how that system works.
Most of the jokes are based on 2005’s WALK THE LINE, and the main storyline is a near copy; there are a few dashes of RAY thrown in (Dewey suffers a lost sense of smell). The problem is that with a spoof, making fun of only one film quickly grows tiresome. What made early spoofs like AIRPLANE successes were the amount of films referenced in them, no matter whether they had anything to do with the plot or not. There are a few related bits that remain funny throughout; machete motifs and the constant references to characters’ ages are a few. But the more successful bits are actually the raunchy R-rated jokes that hold no bearing on the plot. The film’s many songs are likely its greatest attribute. Performed wonderfully by Reilly, they display the writers at their most creative and cleverest. From the innuendo-filled “Let’s Duet” to the catchy title song to the genuinely affecting “A Life Without You”, the songs quickly become the most memorable thing about the film.
Unfortunately, star Reilly doesn’t bring much to the table. Playing basically the same character he did in last year’s TALLADEGA NIGHTS, his comic abilities seem to have lessened in the transition from supporting role to leading. He sings admirably, but the “aw, shucks” dumb guy shtick grows as tired as the jokes. His other bits seem taken directly from his past co-stars, the most notable being his Incredible Hulk-fused version of the running around in underwear made, Will Ferrell style. Wiig and Tim Meadows come off with the best gags in the film; Wiig manages to make her one-joke character humorous throughout while Meadows’s spirited protestations against the effects of pot and cocaine are probably the funniest thing in the film. In the end, however, WALK HARD isn’t as funny as its spoof predecessors, though it is mercifully a step above recent offerings. The musical biopic genre is ripe for parody, but every spoof requires a wider eye to keep from growing stale or repetitive.
**/****
Sunday, December 23, 2007
The Kite Runner
Khaled Hosseini’s wildly popular 2003 novel THE KITE RUNNER arrives on screens this holiday season in the form of a treacly, cliché-ridden that raises the big issues people think Oscar voters love. Though there are aspects to admire, it is clear the filmmakers believed that simply retelling the story would have been good enough to hit a homerun, but it leaves its viewers cold and unaffected at the end.
The film tells the story of Amir (Zekeiria Ebrahimi as a child, Khalid Abdalla as an adult), an Afghan immigrant novelist living in California. He receives a phone call from an old friend in Pakistan, asking him to return to his homeland so he can “do good again”. Amir reflects on his early life in Kabul, where he and his best friend Hassan (Ahmad Kahn Mahmidzada) flew kites everyday, practicing for a city-wide kite tournament. When a violent attack on Hassan splits the boys apart, the entire world seems to unravel. The Soviets soon invade and Amir and his father are forced to flee, eventually winding up in America. Amir grows to into young adulthood, missing his friend all the while. He returns to Pakistan, where he finds a chance to repay his dear friend; he must rescue Hassan’s son Sohrab from the Taliban rule in Afghanistan.
The film’s most crippling flaw is its by-the-numbers and passionless screenplay, courtesy of David Benioff (who’s other work includes gems like TROY and STAY). It adapts the book with a mind to being as straightforward as possible; little to no time is taken to develop characters in a purely cinematic form. The depth of Amir and Hassan’s friendship must be assumed, because there is no explicit demonstration of it in the actual film. A revelation late in the film explains a bit more about the characters, but Amir’s drive to save Sohrab rests almost exclusively on what is said in clichéd preachy dialogue, not what is shown. It is understood why Amir returns to Pakistan to help Hassan, but because of the weak writing, it feels more like an obligation than a chance to ease a terribly guilty conscience. Another irritating trait in the script is its use of language. The sequences of Amir’s youth are told in dialects spoken in Kabul (a brave choice for a big studio-funded film). But makes makes it irritating when the characters switch back and forth between English and Middle Eastern dialects in Amir’s adulthood. Characters start conversation in their native languages, then switch to English when important points must be made.
Director Marc Forster retains the interesting visual eye he displayed in FINDING NEVERLAND and STRANGER THAN FICTION, but it sometimes causes the film to feel like a family-friendly look at life in the Middle East. There is danger there, but the true horrors seem skirted around. In some instances, the restraint shown works quite well (and is quite necessary), but most everything else remains curiously bright and cheery. It reflects the mindset of the young boys early in the film, and it works there; this is mainly because of the spirited and heartwarming performances from Ebrahimi and Mahmidzada. Some of the technical work is spotty as well; though the kite tournament is vibrantly rendered via CGI, the all-computerized shots of the kites flying and the live action shots of the children on the ground never really connect, and the film looses the sense of excitement it should have. Alberto Iglesias’s score is an oddity; starting off melodic and evocative but quickly turning overbearing and terribly orchestrated.
The filmmakers likely assumed that the popularity of the book would guarantee them a success, and that was their first mistake. It has happened many times with high-profile literary adaptations; not enough care is put into making it an actual film. The chief problem here is the screenplay, which does not adequately describe the characters and their emotions. Oh sure, they say how they feel, but a viewer can handle only so many heavy-handed speeches with statements about life we’ve heard before. There is some joy and truth to be found in THE KITE RUNNER, but it is not nearly as effective as its source.
**1/2/****
The film tells the story of Amir (Zekeiria Ebrahimi as a child, Khalid Abdalla as an adult), an Afghan immigrant novelist living in California. He receives a phone call from an old friend in Pakistan, asking him to return to his homeland so he can “do good again”. Amir reflects on his early life in Kabul, where he and his best friend Hassan (Ahmad Kahn Mahmidzada) flew kites everyday, practicing for a city-wide kite tournament. When a violent attack on Hassan splits the boys apart, the entire world seems to unravel. The Soviets soon invade and Amir and his father are forced to flee, eventually winding up in America. Amir grows to into young adulthood, missing his friend all the while. He returns to Pakistan, where he finds a chance to repay his dear friend; he must rescue Hassan’s son Sohrab from the Taliban rule in Afghanistan.
The film’s most crippling flaw is its by-the-numbers and passionless screenplay, courtesy of David Benioff (who’s other work includes gems like TROY and STAY). It adapts the book with a mind to being as straightforward as possible; little to no time is taken to develop characters in a purely cinematic form. The depth of Amir and Hassan’s friendship must be assumed, because there is no explicit demonstration of it in the actual film. A revelation late in the film explains a bit more about the characters, but Amir’s drive to save Sohrab rests almost exclusively on what is said in clichéd preachy dialogue, not what is shown. It is understood why Amir returns to Pakistan to help Hassan, but because of the weak writing, it feels more like an obligation than a chance to ease a terribly guilty conscience. Another irritating trait in the script is its use of language. The sequences of Amir’s youth are told in dialects spoken in Kabul (a brave choice for a big studio-funded film). But makes makes it irritating when the characters switch back and forth between English and Middle Eastern dialects in Amir’s adulthood. Characters start conversation in their native languages, then switch to English when important points must be made.
Director Marc Forster retains the interesting visual eye he displayed in FINDING NEVERLAND and STRANGER THAN FICTION, but it sometimes causes the film to feel like a family-friendly look at life in the Middle East. There is danger there, but the true horrors seem skirted around. In some instances, the restraint shown works quite well (and is quite necessary), but most everything else remains curiously bright and cheery. It reflects the mindset of the young boys early in the film, and it works there; this is mainly because of the spirited and heartwarming performances from Ebrahimi and Mahmidzada. Some of the technical work is spotty as well; though the kite tournament is vibrantly rendered via CGI, the all-computerized shots of the kites flying and the live action shots of the children on the ground never really connect, and the film looses the sense of excitement it should have. Alberto Iglesias’s score is an oddity; starting off melodic and evocative but quickly turning overbearing and terribly orchestrated.
The filmmakers likely assumed that the popularity of the book would guarantee them a success, and that was their first mistake. It has happened many times with high-profile literary adaptations; not enough care is put into making it an actual film. The chief problem here is the screenplay, which does not adequately describe the characters and their emotions. Oh sure, they say how they feel, but a viewer can handle only so many heavy-handed speeches with statements about life we’ve heard before. There is some joy and truth to be found in THE KITE RUNNER, but it is not nearly as effective as its source.
**1/2/****
Saturday, December 15, 2007
I Am Legend
It’s a story that’s been told many times before, yet always seems to get the shaft in its purest form. Richard Matheson’s famed novel I AM LEGEND gets its third big-screen treatment (following 1964’s THE LAST MAN ON EARTH and 1971’s THE OMEGA MAN). This time around, the original work has been fused with a 28 DAYS LATER-type bent, removing the vampiric creatures of the original and replacing them with frenzied, zombie-like beings. But although the film does take many brave turns and unusual choices, it ends up as nothing more than a really expensive slim horror movie.
Robert Neville (Will Smith) is the last surviving man in New York. Three years after an outbreak of a virus aimed to cure diseases, most of human civilization has been wiped out. Only a small portion survive, and most of those have been mutated into animalistic creatures who ruthlessly feed on all forms of life and are allergic to sunlight. (Basically, as explained in a brief prologue and a few flashbacks, Emma Thompson kills us all). Now Neville is alone in New York, which has become overgrown with wildlife. He leads an empty existence; interacting only with his dog while desperately trying to find a cure for the virus. His desperation begins to increase as time goes on, and Neville notices that the creatures are becoming more violent and less hesitant to shield themselves from the sun. After capturing a creature for study, he angers the apparent New Yorkian king of the creatures and they begin to attack.
Much of the film is Smith by himself, silent except for the occasional remark to the dog. The portions of him roaming through the deserted New York are stunningly rendered; the overgrown grass in Times Square, the slow decay of the empty skyscrapers, every bit of the city is shocking and downright eerie. The filmmakers haven’t skipped a step in this regard; even the billboards are rendered time-appropriate (including an ad for a huge superhero pic due in May 2010, so get ready folks). How disappointing it is to learn, then, that director Francis Lawrence (2005’s CONSTANTINE) did not show this amount of care throughout the whole film. The most crippling flaw in the entire thing is the creatures themselves. Obviously rendered completely through CGI, they never become truly terrifying because they never look real. It suffers when compared to recent films like 28 DAYS LATER, which clearly inspired the look of this film. Sure, when they jump out from around a corner screaming the audience is startled, but there are many more effective ways of scaring people.
That’s not to say there isn’t anything else to admire. Smith gives one of his better performances to date, and certainly the most focused. Gone is the grin-filled easygoing humor he displays in all his other films, a trait with often undercuts certain dramatic aspirations. The biggest laughs here are nothing more than amused chuckles and Smith really triumphs in the dramatic scenes. The slow-building paranoia, desperation and loneliness that seeps into his behavior is uncomfortable and sometimes painful to watch, in a good way. It seems odd to happen in a film like I AM LEGEND, but here Smith finally proves that he has what it takes to become a great dramatic actor.
In the end, the film is a mixed experience. There are admirable qualities, but the failings become glaringly obvious as the film comes to a close. The finale in particular will be maddening to some, straying far from Matheson’s novel. But it is to be expected in a big-budget Hollywood film in this day and age and the filmmakers likely placed commercial success over artistic bravery. I AM LEGEND is worth seeing for its stunning opening scenes and for Smith’s complex performance, but those seeking that level of complexity on all counts will be disappointed.
**/****
Robert Neville (Will Smith) is the last surviving man in New York. Three years after an outbreak of a virus aimed to cure diseases, most of human civilization has been wiped out. Only a small portion survive, and most of those have been mutated into animalistic creatures who ruthlessly feed on all forms of life and are allergic to sunlight. (Basically, as explained in a brief prologue and a few flashbacks, Emma Thompson kills us all). Now Neville is alone in New York, which has become overgrown with wildlife. He leads an empty existence; interacting only with his dog while desperately trying to find a cure for the virus. His desperation begins to increase as time goes on, and Neville notices that the creatures are becoming more violent and less hesitant to shield themselves from the sun. After capturing a creature for study, he angers the apparent New Yorkian king of the creatures and they begin to attack.
Much of the film is Smith by himself, silent except for the occasional remark to the dog. The portions of him roaming through the deserted New York are stunningly rendered; the overgrown grass in Times Square, the slow decay of the empty skyscrapers, every bit of the city is shocking and downright eerie. The filmmakers haven’t skipped a step in this regard; even the billboards are rendered time-appropriate (including an ad for a huge superhero pic due in May 2010, so get ready folks). How disappointing it is to learn, then, that director Francis Lawrence (2005’s CONSTANTINE) did not show this amount of care throughout the whole film. The most crippling flaw in the entire thing is the creatures themselves. Obviously rendered completely through CGI, they never become truly terrifying because they never look real. It suffers when compared to recent films like 28 DAYS LATER, which clearly inspired the look of this film. Sure, when they jump out from around a corner screaming the audience is startled, but there are many more effective ways of scaring people.
That’s not to say there isn’t anything else to admire. Smith gives one of his better performances to date, and certainly the most focused. Gone is the grin-filled easygoing humor he displays in all his other films, a trait with often undercuts certain dramatic aspirations. The biggest laughs here are nothing more than amused chuckles and Smith really triumphs in the dramatic scenes. The slow-building paranoia, desperation and loneliness that seeps into his behavior is uncomfortable and sometimes painful to watch, in a good way. It seems odd to happen in a film like I AM LEGEND, but here Smith finally proves that he has what it takes to become a great dramatic actor.
In the end, the film is a mixed experience. There are admirable qualities, but the failings become glaringly obvious as the film comes to a close. The finale in particular will be maddening to some, straying far from Matheson’s novel. But it is to be expected in a big-budget Hollywood film in this day and age and the filmmakers likely placed commercial success over artistic bravery. I AM LEGEND is worth seeing for its stunning opening scenes and for Smith’s complex performance, but those seeking that level of complexity on all counts will be disappointed.
**/****
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