Page 2 of 3
MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE III This fast-paced sequel is a huge improvement over its immediate predecessor and just barely manages to top the first film for sheer excitement. Instead of going for an established director like Brian De Palma (Mission I) and John Woo (Mission II), Paramount and producer-star Tom Cruise elected to take a chance on TV's J.J. Abrams (Alias, Lost), who pumps new life into the M:I template. "This Time, It's Personal" might as well have been the movie's tagline, as IMF (Impossible Missions Force) agent Ethan Hunt (Cruise) finds himself trying to save his wife (Michelle Monaghan) and protégée (Keri Russell) from a murderous weapons dealer (Philip Seymour Hoffman). Mission: Impossible was established as a vanity franchise for Cruise, yet Hoffman's work (his character would have made a formidable Bond villain) marks this as the first time that the attention gets shifted away from the marquee attraction. ***
THE OMEN The 1976 version of The Omen still holds up after 30 years. That's reason enough to Netflix that baby and skip the new version that's currently haunting multiplexes. Granted, director John Moore (Behind Enemy Mines) remaking The Omen isn't as sacrilegious as Gus Van Sant remaking Psycho, but it still comes across as an unnecessary effort, as if the primary motivation was to be able to release a picture called The Omen on 6/6/06. That lack of a sound reason affects the picture itself, which is competent though curiously flat. The devil taking over the world is a terrifying concept, yet here there's so little urgency to the proceedings that you'd think his master plan extended only to prank phone calls and TPing ministers' houses. The new film is mostly faithful to its predecessor -- an American ambassador (Liev Schreiber) and his wife (Julia Stiles) learn too late that their adopted son is the Antichrist -- but the fact that this produces snickers rather than scares suggests that it might find its niche as a camp outing. **
OVER THE HEDGE Here's yet another charmless animated feature made by profiteers whose historical reference point seems to begin and end with Shrek. In other words, don't look for what was once quaintly referred to as "Disney magic," that timeless, ethereal quality that used to be par for the course in toon flicks like Dumbo, 101 Dalmatians and Beauty and the Beast. With rare exception, today's cartoon characters aren't allowed to be romantic or introspective or lovably quixotic -- usually, they're too busy hyperventilating or passing gas or trying to find ways to screw over their fellow toons. This is more of the same, as an opportunistic raccoon (Bruce Willis), in hock to a grouchy grizzly (Nick Nolte), cons a group of peaceful forest denizens into helping him invade suburbia and steal the humans' junk food. There's a witty sequence in which the raccoon explains how people "live to eat" rather than "eat to live," and a Stanley Kowalski gag make me chuckle out loud. Otherwise, this DreamWorks production feels like a flat-footed attempt to rip off the Pixar template. *1/2
POSEIDON This remake of the 1972 disaster favorite The Poseidon Adventure -- in which several survivors try to make their way to the surface after an enormous wave flips their luxury cruise ship over -- isn't awful so much as it's impersonal: Foregoing the blood, sweat and characters that made the original come to life, this one's all about running cardboard people through the CGI paces. Electing to scrap the characters from Paul Gallico's book and Ronald Neame's earlier film, director Wolfgang Petersen and scripter Mark Protosevich instead serve up all-new players. Petersen describes them as "original, contemporary characters," which I guess is some sort of doublespeak meaning one-dimensional dullards rendered uncomplicated for today's audiences. The sets and effects are also lazily realized, although Petersen, who knows about filming in cramped quarters (Das Boot, Air Force One), does get to display his directorial chops in the more claustrophobic segments, mustering what little suspense the film has to offer. Alas, it's not nearly enough to save this soggy endeavor. *1/2
A PRAIRIE HOME COMPANION Robert Altman's best film since the one-two punch of The Player and Short Cuts might at first glance seem like a minor work, an ambling, congenial picture constructed as little more than an opportunity to corral several major talents (Meryl Streep, Kevin Kline, Lily Tomlin, etc.) and give them a chance to sing songs and tell jokes in a relaxed setting. That the film is inspired by Garrison Keillor's long-running radio show adds to that impression, since the on-air Keillor is the epitome of laid-back, down-home hospitality. Yet for all its levity, the central theme focuses on the specter of Death -- how it hovers around us, how it haunts us, and how it can inform our every move. But the mood isn't depressing; it's bittersweet. And that's only part of the time: When the radio performers are front and center, this is nothing less than a joyous celebration of both Americana and the arts. The final sequence -- a masterpiece of ambiguity -- is simply exquisite, a somber, rueful moment inexorably illustrating that, in death as in life, the show must go on. ****
Mobile
