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Reviewer key
(BF) = Bill Forman
(GD) = Geoffrey Dunn
(GG) = Gretchen Giles
(JMA) = Jeffrey M. Anderson
(MSG) = Michael S. Gant
(RvB) = Richard von Busack
(SJP) = Sarah Jane Phelan
(SP) = Steve Palopoli
(TI) = Todd Inoue
American Dreamz
(PG-13, 107 min.) Not exactly a stinging satire, but rewarding just for its timeliness, Paul Weitz's comedy opens on a U.S. president (Dennis Quaid) who suddenly decides, for the first time, to read the newspaper. Concurrently, the acerbic host of an idiotic TV talent show (Hugh Grant) decides to shake things up by incorporating an Arab contestant (Sam Golzari). The Cheney-like Vice President (Willem Dafoe) worries that the newly enlightened commander-in-chief will undo their stranglehold on the United States, so he arranges a guest spot on the show. Rather than sharpening his barbs, Weitz wastes a great deal of energy on the film's likeability factor; some characters (like Quaid's) spring unexpectedly to life, while others flatten out completely. But it definitely feels good to see these parade floats skewered and deflated. Mandy Moore co-stars. (JMA)
Aquamarine
(PG) This kid's comedy about mermaids stars Jojo, and I know all you cool twentysomethings hope I am talking about the crazy Japanese horror-superhero anime, but if you would stop hitting your little sister long enough to ask her, you would quickly learn that Jojo is a 15-year-old girl who got her start singing on Kids Say the Darndest Things and is pretty much famous simply for being Jojo. You will also learn that you are now old and "out of it." Ha ha! (Capsule preview by SP)
Ask the Dust
Full text review.
(R; 117 min.) Accomplished screenwriter Robert Towne (The Last Detail, Chinatown) has achieved a dream of 30-odd years by finally putting California novelist John Fante's Ask the Dust on the silver screen, in a version starring Colin Farrell as Fante's alter ego, Arturo Bandini, and Salma Hayek as the fiery and oversexed Mexican American beer-hall waitress Camilla Lopez, who eventually captures Bandini's heart and his imagination. Set during the middle of the Depression, the film chronicles Bandini's challenges as a fledgling writer living on Bunker Hill in downtown L.A. The film, sadly, is an unmitigated—and shameful—disaster. The Irish-born Farrell, playing the son of working-class Italian immigrants, just never comes off as the inflammable and unflappable Bandini. Hayek has all the fire and more requisite for Camilla, but she lacks the vulnerability that defined the character in the novel. (GD)
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ATL
(PG-13; 105 min.) Thanks to krunk, Atlanta is presented as the same kind of teen wonderland that California was in the Beach Party movies. Times have changed, and there are a few pit bulls added to the mix, but the dynamic is the same: a group of mixed-class (if all black) teens enjoying their vacation at the roller rink, swimming pool and golf course, with various jobs to keep it going. ATL is actually very summery; music-video vet Chris Robinson is most engaged by the roller derbies that mark every Sunday night. Unfortunately, the two main actors are the least interesting characters: Lauren London as a girl who calls herself "New New" and the narrator, musician T. I., who is as out of it and semiembarassed as Elvis was in his last movies. Tear-stained memoirist Antwone Fisher has some kind of a hand in writing this. (RvB)
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Awesome; I Fuckin' Shot That!
(R; 90 min.) A rough-cut concert film of the Beastie Boys at Madison Square Garden. This is the work of about 50 fans working with Hi8 cameras.
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Basic Instinct 2
(R; 114 min.) The Rage: Carrie 2 may beat out Basic Instinct 2 in terms of waiting on a sequel so long that it's pretty much pointless to make it at all (14 years since Paul Verhoeven's classic thriller, vs. 23 years between telekinetic girls gone wild). But it can't touch BI2 when it comes to the revolving casting couch. When Michael Douglas declined to return, the list of actors who were attached to this project at one time included Harrison Ford, Kurt Russell, Pierce Brosnan, Robert Downey Jr. and Bruce Greenwood. Benjamin Bratt was supposedly personally rejected by Sharon Stone because she thinks he's a bad actor. So who'd they end up with? David Morrissey! That's Hollywood for you. Maybe studio execs thought this sequel about Stone's Catherine Tramell moving to England and playing more mind games with a Scotland Yard inspector was pointless, too, since they couldn't get Verhoeven back for it anyway. (David Cronenberg supposedly considered making Basic Instinct 2, but no such luck.) Obviously they should have just hired Ben Stiller for the lead role, so in the middle of the movie he could stop, look at the camera and say, "This instinct just got a hell of a lot more basicer!" (Capsule preview by SP)
Director Michael Caton-Jones' ennui-inducing sequel to the 1992 mega-lox; it stars Sharon Stone, seemingly victimized by the same sci-fi cosmetics that were slathered over her in Catwoman. Her Catherine Tramell—hack novelist and possible murderess—is up to her old tricks in London; this time, she is tantalizing a recently divorced psychiatrist named Dr. Michael Glass (David Morrissey, a sort of depressed Liam Neeson). The doctor is being considered for the "Douglas Chair" at the local university, but the Ludwig von Drake-accented head of the department has his doubts. So does Charlotte Rampling, Glass' mentor, also easily manipulated by the evil Tramell. As a cop looking in on Tramell's potential crimes, David Thewlis gives an excellent impression of an actor with his nose to the grindstone. The cool Britannic locations include the most over-exposed edifice in today's cinema, the Gherkin Building. In the various modern crypts, especially Tramell's marble-lined mausoleumlike condo, the photography by Gyuka Pados is every bit as dank as the Budapest subways he shot in Kontroll. Speaking of cold, forbidding stone: the lead is whittled by plastic surgery, blanched by concretelike makeup and digitally fiberglassed until she looks as pliant as a surfboard. When she stretches out in what's supposed to be feline stance, I heard a female voice nearby saying, "She doesn't need a shrink, she needs a chiropractor." She's less hypnotic black widow than singles' bar cougar. (RvB)
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Brokeback Mountain
Full text review.
(R; 134 min.) In Wyoming, a 20-year-love affair takes place between two married men: a fun-loving rodeo rider (Jake Gyllenhaal) and a cowboy (Heath Ledger). It's very beautiful, sometimes glacial, and only a breakthrough if one ignores the gay-themed cinema that's been flourishing for the last decade. (What's being applauded isn't the subject of the tale, but the scope of its telling.) Ang Lee's direction has the restraint and formal rigor of old-fashioned movies; Ledger is very fine as a man gradually losing his youth, and who sees his personal frontiers fenced off before his eyes. With Anne Hathaway as one irresistible cowgirl. One would think she'd have enough spirit not to end up with the grotesque makeup they saddled on her at the end of the movie. (RvB)
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Camera Cinema Club
A monthly subscription series of distinguished yet-to-be-released films. Screenings are followed by a discussion with a moderator and guest speakers.
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C.S.A.: The Confederate States of America
Full text review.
(Unrated; 89 min.) Film professor Kevin Willmott's crypto-documentary about the South's triumph in the Civil War. C.S.A. takes the form of a historical special produced by England's "BBS," being shown domestically and interrupted with TV commercials. Willmott is most surefooted in the commercials. Thus the film belongs on the same shelf with knowingly funny '70s hodgepodges like Tunnelvision and The Groove Tube. The despicable Fox show Cops is lambasted as Runaway, with slave catchers hunting fugitives. In between the alternate history lessons, there are advertisements for slave tranquilizers and escape-proof shackles. It is hard to imagine anyone outside of a klavern who would that feel they had seen the roof lifted off an unspeakable subject. But Willmott's point is well taken. This bleak parallel world he creates has all too many points of reference to our own. (RvB)
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Curious George
(G; 97 min) You have to wonder if kids raised on Pixar's 3-D supercomputerawesomeatronics are going to relate to the hand-drawn adventures of Curious George. Do they even read the books anymore, or is he now strictly the property of nostalgic, semi-ironic Gen X T-shirts? We'll soon find out. The voices of Will Ferrell, Drew Barrymore, Eugene Levy and David Cross have got to help, but if they wanted to be sure, they should have come to me. I'd have renamed him "Curious G." and given him some bling-bling and a tattoo that says "American Pimp." Then, on opening day, I would have been whisked away by Lucifer to begin my eternal punishment in Hell. (Capsule preview by SP)
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Date Movie
(PG-13) After the Golden Age of parody movies (most of them done by the ZAZ team) in the '80s, the genre deteriorated into crap like Silence of the Hams. That's just the way these cycles work. Then Scary Movie made them cool and funny again. Guess which part of the cycle we're in now? (Capsule preview by SP)
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Dave Chappelle's Block Party
(R; 100 min.) In September 2004, the elusive comedian Dave Chappelle threw a spur-of-the-moment block party in Brooklyn's Bed-Stuy neighborhood, featuring musical talents Mos Def, Kanye West, Erykah Badu and a reunited Fugees (with Lauryn Hill). Director Michel Gondry (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind) captured the show as well as the behind-the-scenes action. Fortunately, he assembles this footage in a seemingly random order, breaking up the filmed show with Chappelle's improvised riffs. Chappelle interviews and passes out invitations to people from his Ohio hometown and performs rehearsed bits onstage. (Watch for a hilarious routine with the ultracool Mos Def on drums.) Despite the overwhelming talent of the musicians, however, Gondry's visual treatment renders the performances only so-so, but Chappelle's effortless wit had me wiping away hysterical tears. (JMA)
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Don't Come Knocking
(R; 122 min.) Wim Wenders reteams with his Paris, Texas co-author Sam Shepard for this new road movie. This time, Shepard stars, playing an inconsequential cowboy actor who walks away from the set of his latest film. Visiting his mother (Eva Marie Saint), he learns that he once fathered a son (Gabriel Mann) during his younger days. The mysterious longing of the previous film is gone, replaced by Shepard's weak, needy hero unable to connect with anyone. Likewise, the other characters fire dialogue at one another but none of it sticks. Still, Wenders comes up with some beautiful moments, mainly in capturing the story's specific sense of place, the wide-open roads and the hope that there's still something left to find there. Jessica Lange, Tim Roth and Sarah Polley co-star. (JMA)
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Duck Season
Full text review.
(R; 90 min.) Two young boys overcome loneliness and family trauma in a drama from Mexico.
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Eight Below
(PG; 120 min.) Let's let one of Santa Cruz's many obnoxious dog lovers explain this movie: "First, Cuba Gooding Jr. made you laugh about dogs in Snow Dogs, now Paul Walker will make you cry about them in Eight Below! What's that? Cuba didn't make you laugh in Snow Dogs? What kind of monster are you? Dogs are hilarious! But also sad. Very, very sad. Like when Paul Walker has to leave some behind to survive on their own in Antarctica. That's sad! Did you just say you don't want to see this movie? Why do you hate dogs so much? Can't you see from this movie's poster how cute and fluffy they are? Oh yes they are! Oh yes they are! Yes they arey-warey-are! Who's not going to die in Antarctica? Is it Mr. Wiggles? Oh yes it is! Oh yes it is!" (Capsule preview by SP)
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Failure to Launch
(PG-13; 97 min.) Sarah Jessica Parker plays the Mariner-8 spacecraft, and Matthew McConaughey plays the Atlas-Centaur booster in this dramatization of NASA's failed attempt to launch a spacecraft toward Mars in May of 1971. Perhaps it's too early to call the next Oscar race, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say this film, with its Academy-friendly mix of epic historical drama, gritty actors, tragedy and redemption, will be the first film in history to sweep every single category, including (thanks to last-minute rule changes) Best Documentary, Best Foreign Film, Best Animated Short and Best Live-Action Short. (Capsule preview by SP)
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Final Destination 3
(R; 115 min.) All of which prompts the question: What part of final do they not understand? (Capsule preview by BF)
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Find Me Guilty
(R; 125 min.) No, it's not the Susan Polk story. It is actually an under-the-radar new movie by veteran director Sidney Lumet about a famous Mafia trial. Stars Vin Diesel.
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The Hills Have Eyes (2006)
(R; 107 min.) At first it was kind of fun that a lot of people didn't get—or couldn't accept—the wild twist ending of Alexandre Aja's High Tension, but I quickly tired of reading their stupid rants about it. They seemed to take personal offense: "Outrageous! Who would think this was good filmmaking?" Um, maybe Wes Craven? Indeed, Craven picked Aja to remake his famous 1977 horror film about a mutant family battling a "normal" family in the desert. Now, a lot of people call the original a classic, but I've never thought it was one of Craven's best—a lot more cartoony than you'd imagine, and for straight up social satire on the American family, I'd pick The People Under the Stairs and maybe even Last House on the Left from his oeuvre before The Hills Have Eyes. And in a way, that's ideal—as Hollywood should have learned by now, it's the flawed masterpieces that can stand to be remade, while the ones that were perfect the first time around should be left alone. I hope Aja reacts to the mass outrage over his inventiveness in High Tension by leaving a stamp on The Hills Have Eyes that's even more personal and polarizing. (Capsule preview by SP)
Death Valley, 1987, driving through the desert with my mom. Me: "Hey, look, there's a billboard for Papa Jupe's Tenderloin Baby Stand." Mom: "Ha, ha, save me the toes." Alexandre Aja's shot-in-Morocco remake of Wes Craven's jaunty little ogre story from 1977 isn't likely to be the subject of such light intergenerational banter. Here the cannibals aren't Mansonites; they're more-sinned-against-than-sinning Quasimodos who say "Arrgh, snarl" when they attack. Unfortunately, Billy Drago, who can actually act, is cheated out of much dialogue as Jupiter—especially the deathless lines about "tenderloin baby." At times, Aja seems to be commenting on ugly Americanism: this is the first movie in a while with a flagstaff impalement or that grouped tableau of mannequins around TV like '50s suburban families. The latter has some of the uncanniness of Ed Kienholz's dioramas, made slightly more eerie by tomandandy's typically excellent sound collages. But then Aja changes course, making the second half the story of the toughening of the son-in-law Doug (Aaron Stanford), a Democrat wimp who learns the importance of guns. The Hills Have Eyes has all the usual problems of today's second-wave splatter: the digitally filmed incoherent fight scenes, and the sequences that introduce you to a squabbling family of vacationers who seriously need killing, and then the disgust that ensues when they get what's coming to them. This remake is the work of a director who doesn't even know where the irony lies anymore. (RvB)
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