DARK BLUE WORLD It's a simple equation, really: Pearl Harbor minus dopey dialogue plus interesting characters divided by a fraction of a gargantuan budget equals Dark Blue World, the latest feature from Czech director Jan Sverak (the Oscar-winning Kolya). Like that bloated Hollywood epic, this one also focuses on a love triangle set against the backdrop of World War II; in this case, the players are two Czech pilots (Ondrej Vetchy and Krystof Hadek) who escape from Nazi-occupied Czechoslovakia, join England's Royal Air Force and fall in love with the same British lass (Tara Fitzgerald). The romantic dilemma is familiar material played out in a fairly satisfying manner, yet it's the subtext involving the men's separation from their country (both during the war and, as we see in scenes interspersed throughout the picture, during the post-war Communist rule) that makes this film stand out. 
DRAGONFLY Say you're a studio head, and you have this sensitive, soulful, supernatural love story that, if nurtured properly, could turn out to be a commercial bonanza on the order of Ghost or The Sixth Sense. Would you then turn around and hand the project to the guy responsible for such inconsequential, ham-fisted works as Patch Adams and Ace Ventura: Pet Detective? That's the kamikaze approach taken here, as a potentially moving tale about a doctor (Kevin Costner) who believes his recently deceased wife may be trying to communicate with him is torpedoed by the oblivious efforts of director Tom Shadyac. That's not to say the script by David Seltzer, Brandon Camp and Mike Thompson is flawless -- for one thing, it's not too difficult to figure out the twist ending that the picture has in store for us. But for a movie that's supposed to be about airy, ethereal elements, Shadyac moves this along at a torpid pace and frequently undermines any notions of everlasting love by tossing in the sort of cheap scares more suitable to a horror yarn.
IRIS Alzheimer's might have been a more accurate title for what is ostensibly a biopic about British writer Iris Murdoch, since the focus isn't so much on the woman's literary achievements as it is on the disease that mentally crippled her late in life. Certainly, there are numerous scenes set in her earlier years, when she was a young hedonist falling in love with her opposite -- the shy, stammering literary critic John Bayley. Yet the heart of the story rests in the scenes set in their twilight years, as John contends with the maddening Alzheimer's that pulls Iris away from him. Kate Winslet and Hugh Bonneville are quite good as the young Iris and John, but the picture belongs to the actors playing the characters in their later years: Jim Broadbent is enormously moving as the devoted husband, while Judi Dench's interpretation of a person coping with this terrible disease is so authentic, it's often painful to watch. Dench, Broadbent and Winslet all picked up Oscar nominations for their work in what's ultimately an eloquent love story.
QUEEN OF THE DAMNED It's difficult to make a truly boring vampire picture, but the folks behind this draggy adaptation of Anne Rice's bestseller have done just that. Neil Jordan, Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt and the rest of those responsible for the arresting screen version of Rice's Interview With the Vampire are sorely missed this time around; instead, given the tedious exploits of the notorious bloodsucker Lestat (blandly played by Stuart Townsend) in this outing, the movie's sole claim to fame would seem to be as the final film project of the late singing star Aaliyah. She's cast as Akasha, the Mother of All Vampires, but it's impossible to gauge her thespian abilities based on this performance: She only arrives during the final half-hour, buried under reams of makeup and jewelry and boasting an electronically altered voice that sounds like a cross between Bela Lugosi and Twiki the robot from that 70s Buck Rogers series. There's probably a compelling film version to be made from this particular chapter in the vampire chronicles, but this moribund (and occasionally laughable) take ain't it. 1/2
CURRENT RELEASES
COLLATERAL DAMAGE The latest Arnold Schwarzenegger flick arrives on the scene wielding enough heavy baggage to drag even an ocean liner to the bottom of the deep blue sea. Slated for an October 5 release but yanked following 9/11, this action yarn about a firefighter who seeks revenge on the terrorist who killed his family became the poster child for the ongoing debate on how Hollywood should start treating scripts featuring terrorism. Are such movies cathartic escapism that elevates national pride or insensitive, exploitative junk that plays right into the image of Hollywood (and, by extension, America) as a soulless land that worships the bottom line above all else? It's often a tricky business, finding this line between moral decency and moral debauchery, but overall, films of this nature are probably no more heinous than the scores of WWII films produced after the fact. In the middle of this raging discourse, it seems almost incidental whether or not this one's a good movie. For the record, it's not: Rather, it's a working-class model of the standard action flick, with very little to distinguish it from the other run-of-the-mill "red meat" endeavors that periodically test the effectiveness of our theaters' Dolby Digital sound systems.
HART'S WAR Certainly one of the more ambitious projects of the new year, this WWII drama falls just shy of qualifying as an out-and-out hit. The problem rests with the pontification, as an initially absorbing storyline eventually gets railroaded by a final half-hour in which everyone boasts about the sacrifices they'll make before actually getting around to making them. Despite top billing and prominence in all the trailers, Bruce Willis is actually a supporting character, portraying the top dog among the Americans being held at a German POW camp. The Hart of the title is played by Colin Farrell, who's cast as a greenhorn lieutenant ordered to defend a fellow officer -- a black flyer (Terrence Howard) accused of murdering a racist GI (Cole Hauser) -- in a kangaroo court set up within the confines of the camp. This extremely well-made drama has its share of high-minded themes to push -- for starters, the divisiveness of racism is not only inherently evil but also detrimental to a necessary spirit of camaraderie and self-sacrifice -- but such notions of nobility work far more effectively when subtly woven into the fabric of the piece rather than written large across a billboard that's then toppled onto audience members' heads. 1/2
JOHN Q Emotionally effective but also dishonest and irresponsible, John Q is largely DOA. It's tough not to side with a movie that sticks it to America's health care crisis, but this heavy-handed button-pusher stacks matters so densely, it doesn't give any rationale room to breathe. Denzel Washington plays struggling factory worker John Quincy Archibald, who learns that his insurance won't cover a heart transplant operation for his dying son (Daniel E. Smith). With nowhere to turn, John elects to hold an emergency room hostage, threatening dire consequences if his son's name isn't placed on the donor recipient list. This one offers a virtual checklist of "social drama" cliches: the opportunistic police chief (Ray Liotta) wanting to make a good impression in an election year; a tanned TV reporter (Paul Johansson) hungry for ratings ("This is my white Bronco!" he exclaims in one of scripter James Kearns' many dopey lines); and unfeeling hospital personnel (Anne Heche and James Woods). Furthermore, the notion that the US public would outwardly cheer a man holding innocent people hostage (no matter what the reason) is not only ludicrous but somewhat insulting as well.
MONSTER'S BALL Director Marc Forster and writers Will Rokos and Milo Addica are all relative newcomers on the film scene, and perhaps it's this infusion of fresh blood that allows Monster's Ball -- one of the best films of 2001 -- to transcend plot developments that might have come off badly had they been entrusted to veteran Hollywood filmmakers comfortable with smoothing out all the rough edges. A relentless downer akin to Affliction -- albeit one with a few glimmers of hope shining through -- this stars Billy Bob Thornton as Hank Grotowski, a corrections officer at a Georgia prison who tolerates his racist pop (Peter Boyle), loathes his sensitive son (Heath Ledger) and enters into a relationship with the widow (Halle Berry) of the Death Row inmate (Sean Combs) whose execution he oversaw. Monster's Ball makes very few missteps as it navigates its characters through its raw scenarios, and the ending -- both insightful and unexpected -- is especially memorable. So, too, are the lead performances: Berry has never been better -- frankly, I didn't think she had this in her -- while Thornton continues to demonstrate that he has few equals when it comes to playing ordinary joes. 1/2
RETURN TO NEVER LAND Over the past few years, Disney has been hell-bent on releasing a slew of needless and inferior sequels (e.g. Cinderella II, The Little Mermaid II) to their classic animated features directly to the video market. What, then, persuaded them to throw this sorry sequel to 1953's Peter Pan into theaters? Perhaps it's to test the waters on how these shoddy products would fare with highly publicized theatrical campaigns; if that's the case, then let's pray this one tanks, since I have no real desire to see the movie marketplace cluttered with the likes of Hercules or Fox and the Hound sequels. Despite the brand name recognition, the '53 Peter Pan hardly ranks alongside the studio's finest efforts, but it's still miles ahead of this poorly realized follow-up that finds Wendy's daughter Jane helping Peter and the Lost Boys battle persistent Captain Hook. Dull characters, unmemorable songs and flat animation sink this one. 1/2
ROLLERBALL Hollywood has a fondness for remaking classics, but the more logical route might be to remake movies that weren't particularly good the first time around -- that way, there's reams more room for improvement. Alas, one application of that theory gets shot to hell with Rollerball, as the mediocre 1975 original gets accorded a remake that's infinitely worse than the earlier dud. Set in a future in which all violence has been outlawed except when played in the arena of a popular new sport, Norman Jewison's '75 model was stuffy and ponderous, only coming alive during the well-staged game sequences. This stupefying new version is a complete overhaul -- Starship Troopers and Howards End have more in common with each other than this reworking does with the original -- but somehow the changes have only made matters worse. By setting the tale in the present and stripping it of all sociopolitical context, this violent film plays like an incoherent, badly staged taping of one of those inane TV sports events like pro wrestling or the XFL. Loud, garish, and directed within an inch of its life by John McTiernan, this Rollerball Redux is probably preferable to the disco turkey Roller Boogie, though even that's arguable.
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