New Releases
SLITHER At last, a refreshing break from the current trend of nihilistic horror flicks whose sole purpose is to devise groovy new ways for psychopaths to torture and murder innocent people. Make no mistake: Slither offers gore by the bucketful, but the movie’s in the spirit of those enjoyable, us-against-them monster yarns that ran rampant from the 1950s straight through to the mid-1980s. Starting out as an “invader from outer space” opus (think The Blob) before switching gears to become a quasi-zombie flick (think Night of the Living Dead), the film involves a gelatinous E.T. that turns hicksville businessman Grant Grant (Michael Rooker) into its agent of evil on earth. The master plan eventually involves a mass assault by hundreds of slugs that take over humans’ bodies by entering through the mouths; naturally, the entire planet is doomed unless double-Grant’s wife (Elizabeth Banks) and an amiable sheriff (Nathan Fillion) can figure out a way to shut the otherworldly operation down. Slither takes its time getting started, but once it does, it never lets up, throwing the blood, slime and one-liners (some woeful, most of them witty) at the screen with feverish abandon. Banks, recently seen as the bookstore nymph in The 40-Year-Old Virgin, is actually touching as the wife who doesn’t comprehend why her husband has morphed into a human squid. And between his starring roles here and in last year’s sci-fi tale Serenity, Fillion might end up becoming a new generation’s Bruce Campbell. The worst part of the picture is the unnecessary coda tacked on after the closing credits have run their course; luckily, the auditorium will be empty at that point anyway. ***
Current Releases
BASIC INSTINCT 2 While many reviewers (to say nothing of Razzie Award voters) consider Sharon Stone a miserable actress, I can honestly say I would require all four fingers and the thumb of one hand to count her memorable performances. That number includes her fine work in last summer’s Broken Flowers, as well as her star-making performance as the ice pick-wielding author Catherine Tramell in the 1992 smash hit Basic Instinct. But what Hollywood giveth, Hollywood taketh away, meaning that the role that made her an A-lister might now be the same role that effectively kills her struggling career. In BI2, Stone is simply awful, replacing the sexy insouciance from the first film with a beady stare that would seem more appropriate coming from a dead codfish than a calculating nympho adept at playing twisted mind games. This needless sequel is badly photographed, flatly directed, indifferently acted and wretchedly scripted — a train wreck all the way around. *
CSA: CONFEDERATE STATES OF AMERICA Ingeniously presented as a Ken Burns-style TV documentary produced by the BBC, CSA offers a what-if scenario by imagining the parallel course of history had the South won the Civil War. Talking heads, historical reenactments and clips from faux-movies like D.W. Griffith’s The Hunt for Dishonest Abe help paint a picture of an America that not only still allows slavery but also supported Hitler’s desire for Aryan supremacy during World War II, went on to conquer Latin America, and initiated a Cold War with Canada (home for abolitionists, suffragettes and rock & rollers). Writer-director Kevin Willmott methodically lays out the requisite groundwork so that none of the developments in the movie seem unbelievable or out of place — it makes for a razor-sharp satire that only flags at the end. Yet for all its wit, the overwhelming feeling is one of sadness, as the CS history and our actual US history really aren’t that far removed. ***1/2
FAILURE TO LAUNCH In this sputtering romantic comedy, Matthew McConaughey plays Tripp, a 35-year-old who still lives at home with his parents (Terry Bradshaw and Kathy Bates). Anxious to get their grown boy out of the house, the folks hire Paula (Sarah Jessica Parker), a professional consultant who — get this — makes a career out of building up the self-esteem of adult males still living at home by romancing them and then dumping them once they feel independent enough to move out on their own. McConaughey and Parker try, but they can’t save a premise as insipid as this one. Instead, the fun can be found in the margins: Bradley Cooper and Justin Bartha have their moments as Tripp’s friends, Zooey Deschanel adds some much-needed edge as Paula’s droll roommate, and Bates and Bradshaw invest their characters’ relationship with the humor and empathy that’s sorely missing from the top-billed stars’ dalliances. **
FIND ME GUILTY In telling the true story of a low-level member of a New Jersey mob family, director Sidney Lumet clearly sides with his protagonist: Jackie DiNorscio (Vin Diesel), the maverick defendant in a gargantuan case which finds prosecutor Sean Kierney (Linus Roache) seeking charges against dozens of members of the Calabrese crime syndicate. While the other mobsters are represented by lawyers, Jackie elects to defend himself, a questionable move that threatens to change the outcome of the trial. Diesel and the supporting cast are impressive, yet Lumet’s sympathies repeatedly tug against the natural grain of the story: The criminals belong behind bars, and there’s no indication that Kierney’s anything but a decent man trying to make our society a better place. The best way to enjoy this, then, is to view it as an indictment of the jury system, as a smackdown of a procedure that allows 12 ill-informed people to form their opinions of a person’s guilt or innocence by his ability to tell a joke. **1/2
INSIDE MAN Inside Man is A Spike Lee Joint, sho nuff, which may explain why it isn’t your typical heist flick in either structure or spirit. Bank robber Dalton Russell (Clive Owen) and his crew take over Manhattan Trust, bully the hostages and make the usual demands from an NYPD repped by Detective Keith Frazier (Denzel Washington) — so far, so Dog Day Afternoon. But the addition of a mysterious power player (Jodie Foster) to the equation takes the story in a different direction, and it eventually becomes clear that Lee and writer Russell Gewirtz aren’t as interested in the thriller components as in making astute observations about contemporary society, especially as it relates to a post-9/11 mindset. For better or worse, Lee downplays his usual technical flourishes, though one defining Spike Lee signature move is certain to draw cheers from the faithful. ***
LUCKY NUMBER SLEVIN The latest hollow exercise in hipster chic is the sort of convoluted, twist-packed yarn that strains to be unpredictable but is actually even easier to figure out than those Jumble puzzles that appear in the dailies. Josh Hartnett, cinema’s favorite lightweight, plays Slevin, a seemingly guileless guy who finds himself caught in a power struggle between two rival crime lords (Morgan Freeman and Ben Kingsley). Bruce Willis is on hand as, natch, the taciturn hitman who turns out to be more involved than he initially appears. Hartnett would seem hard-pressed to carry a basket of laundry, let alone carry a motion picture, while the three reliable vets seem almost bored trying to keep up with the plot’s changes of direction. The movie’s saving grace is Lucy Liu: Cast as a chatty neighbor who helps Slevin piece together the mystery, she’s a breath of fresh air in a genre that too often suffocates on its own fumes of pungent testosterone. **
THE SHAGGY DOG Borrowing elements from 1959’s The Shaggy Dog and 1976’s The Shaggy D.A. but mostly wandering off in its own direction, this turkey — excuse me, dog — casts Tim Allen as a lawyer who periodically turns into a canine after being bitten by a 300-year-old sheepdog. Allen is given far too many opportunities to grotesquely ham it up — for his next film, how about a nice, quiet role as a corpse? — while Spencer Breslin adds to our misery as Allen’s son, a dweeb with a jones for all things Grease (his rendition of “You’re the One That I Want” sounds like a cat being shoved tail-first into a blender). In between Allen’s mugging and the lame slapstick sequences, we’re treated to a parade of creepy CGI effects; still, even these aren’t as disturbing as the sight of Allen lifting his leg while using a urinal, or a shaggy Allen telling another dog that “maybe later” he’ll sniff his butt. *
THANK YOU FOR SMOKING The so-called “culture of spin” gets taken for its own spin in this lacerating adaptation of Christopher Buckley’s 1994 novel. Even with a too-brief running time of 92 minutes, the movie manages to pack in all manner of material both saucy and dicey, yet when the smoke clears, what’s most visible is the emergence of Aaron Eckhart as a major talent. He’s terrific as Nick Naylor, who excels as chief spokesman for the tobacco industry even though he realizes he’s despised by a significant part of the population. Nick earns the admiration of Big Tobacco’s Big Daddy (Robert Duvall), but he has his hands full bonding with his own son (Cameron Bright), who adores his dad but often asks tough questions about his profession. Writer-director Jason Reitman keeps the laughs flying during the first half, then slows down enough to lay the groundwork for a satisfying conclusion. ***1/2
TSOTSI Tsotsi is the South African word for “thug”; here, it’s also the name used by a Johannesburg punk (Presley Chweneyagae) who shoots an upper-class woman and steals her car, failing to realize that an infant boy is resting in the back seat. Deciding to keep the child, he forces a single mom (Terry Pheto) to help him, but he soon softens thanks to these two new people in his life. Winner of this year’s Academy Award for Best Foreign-Language Film, this South African import takes a sentimental view of what can largely be construed as unsentimental circumstances, yet its selling point is the subtlety by which it spreads around its empathy. The sturdy performances by Chweneyagae and Pheto are as understated and matter-of-fact as the rest of the picture, signaling that writer-director Gavin Hood (adapting a novel by playwright Athol Fugard) made sure everyone was on the same page right from the start. ***
V FOR VENDETTA Like so many other recent blockbusters, this adaptation of an influential graphic novel can be viewed on two different levels. In one respect, it’s a typical big-budget FX affair, not the sort that rolls off the assembly line but the type that shows that as much creativity as dollars went into every aspect of the production. Yet on another level, it serves as a wake-up call to Americans disgusted that their country has been hijacked by criminals, profiteers and warhawks. Set in an Orwellian England in the year 2020 (but packed with allusions to the United States of today), this finds a masked vigilante named V (Hugo Weaving) recruiting young Evey Hammond (excellent Natalie Portman) to help him in his battle against the fascistic ruling class. V For Vendetta is that rare blockbuster that’s interested in words more than action. That’s not to say the picture doesn’t contain its share of explosive set pieces and dashing derring-do, but its import rests in the muddy waters it navigates and the difficult questions it ponders. ***1/2
OPENS FRIDAY, APRIL 14:
PREACHING TO THE CHOIR: Billoah Greene, Darien Sills-Evans.
SCARY MOVIE 4: Anna Faris, Regina King.
THE WILD: Animated; voices of Kiefer Sutherland, William Shatner.
This article appears in Apr 12-18, 2006.
