Current Releases
ELIZABETH: THE GOLDEN AGE Sequels to movies like Saw and Daddy Day Care are givens, but a follow-up to an art-house endeavor set in a century far, far away? Indeed, that’s the case with this sequel to the 1998 Elizabeth. But E:TGA proves to be markedly inferior to its predecessor, which was more original in that it examined the life of the Queen of England (played by Cate Blanchett) as she came into her own as both a woman and a ruler. With interesting characters flitting about in the shadows (most notably Geoffrey Rush’s loyal but lethal advisor, Sir Francis Walsingham) and an unsettling sense of menace lurking around every corner, the first film deserved much of its lavish praise. By comparison, Elizabeth’s second coming feels less like a royal offering than a common period biopic which mistakes stuffiness for stateliness. Here, Elizabeth must cope with an assassination plot approved by the jailed Mary Stuart (an effective Samantha Morton) and the King of Spain (ridiculous Jordi Molla). At the same time, she grows fond of explorer Sir Walter Raleigh (a coasting Clive Owen), leading to a romantic subplot nearly identical to the one already presented more zestfully by Bette Davis and Errol Flynn in 1939’s The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex. Rush returns as Walsingham, but his role has been neutered. And while Blanchett delivers another first-rate performance as The Virgin Queen, she’s ultimately defeated by a languorous script that makes court intrigue about as exciting as jury duty. **
THE GAME PLAN After his film career began floundering, action star Vin Diesel turned to the family audience with The Pacifier and ended up with a $113 million hit. Along the same lines, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson now throws himself on the mercy of the small fry and their easy-to-please parental units with this innocuous mediocrity. Rocky stars as a narcissistic quarterback who’s blindsided when an 8-year-old girl (Madison Pettis) shows up on his doorstep claiming to be his daughter. Livin’ la vida loca with a lavishly designed bachelor pad, a European model for a girlfriend, and a flashy sports car to complement his lifestyle of the rich and famous, he learns that in order to become an effective parent, he has to accept a pink tutu being placed on his bulldog, his football trophies getting BeDazzled, and his mode of transport getting downsized to a station wagon. Considering that this holds next to no surprises for anyone who’s ever seen a movie before, a 90-minute length would have been plenty; instead, this gets mercilessly stretched out to 110 minutes. Pettis mostly relies on calculated precociousness, but Johnson actually proves to be Rock-solid as Kingman, displaying modest but sufficient amounts of charm and comic timing. **
GONE BABY GONE Ben Affleck makes his directorial debut with Gone Baby Gone, and by playing it close to the vest, he turns out a drama that’s deeply absorbing and constantly surprising. A better movie than Clint Eastwood’s marginally overrated Mystic River, this sports a connection to that film since both were adapted from novels by Dennis Lehane. Here, a little girl is snatched from her home in a working-class Boston neighborhood, and the family hires two private investigators (Casey Affleck and Michelle Monaghan) to track down the missing moppet. Working in uneasy unison with a couple of detectives (Ed Harris and John Ashton), sometimes without the knowledge of the cops’ superior officer (Morgan Freeman), the pair follow the trail of clues wherever it leads, which is straight into an underworld populated by thuggish crime lords and coke-addled pedophiles. Aided by a stellar cast that showcases superlative turns by Ben’s brother Casey, Harris and Amy Ryan as the child’s trashy mom, Affleck (who also co-scripted with Aaron Stockard) has crafted a forceful crime flick that’s made even more irresistible by way of a moral ambivalence that’s extremely rare in modern dramas. It’s this stance that propels the film through its knockout finale, since a sequence about two-thirds through the picture erroneously leads us to believe that the film is winding down with a disappointingly conventional ending. But it’s a mere ruse, since it clears the way for more surprises that in turn build toward a devastating conclusion guaranteed to remain in the mind for days, weeks, maybe even months. ***1/2
GOOD LUCK CHUCK Upchuck would have been a more accurate title for this nauseating effort – not only does its mere existence instantly elevate the already high standing of such accomplished “raunchy comedies” as The 40-Year-Old Virgin and There’s Something About Mary, it also makes them seem as refined as an Ernst Lubitsch farce from the 1930s by comparison. Dane Cook plays Chuck, who was long ago placed under a hex which states that whenever he sleeps with a woman, she will then marry the next man who woos her. This allows Chuck to have sex with all sorts of women without worrying about commitment issues. But he grows tired of such a shallow lifestyle, especially after meeting a klutzy penguin specialist (the eternally vapid Jessica Alba). The central premise is no more farfetched than those exhibited in such frothy comedies as 13 Going on 30 and Big, yet Good Luck Chuck forgoes quirky charm and endearing characters in order to focus on bottom-of-the-barrel gross-out gags involving sex with grapefruits, stuffed penguins and a woman with three breasts. Cook and Alba generate about as much chemistry as a mongoose paired with a rattlesnake, while Dan Fogler, as Chuck’s foul-mouthed best friend, will likely endure as the movie year’s most obnoxious sidekick. *
GREAT WORLD OF SOUND It’s appropriate that Great World of Sound was both filmed and set in Charlotte, since that ties it back to one of the landmark documentaries: 1968’s Salesman, which focused on door-to-door Bible peddlers whose main office was right here in the Queen City. Great World of Sound is a fictional piece, but writer-director Craig Zobel (scripting with George Smith) is clearly working with a budget so small, that this thematically similar film has the look and feel of fly-on-the-wall cinema. Focusing on two men (Pat Healy and Kene Holliday) trying to eke out a living by working for a sleazy record company named Great World of Sound, the film follows the pair as they meet with – and try to fleece – folks who answer the company’s ads seeking new musical talent. The movie displays all the trademarks of a true indie effort, especially in its refusal to sentimentalize either the characters or their situations. And the finger-wagging isn’t directed at the musicians looking for that big break, nor is it really directed at the salesmen, who are only doing their best to survive in a cruel world. If anything, it’s aimed at the sleazeball heads of G.W.S., career con men who don’t think twice about bilking hardworking lower-class people. Yet because these unctuous bosses don’t have that much screen time, he overriding mood isn’t one of righteous anger but of resigned disappointment, a sadness that the notion of hard, honest work isn’t enough in today’s marketplace. In that respect, the film taps into that most crushing of accepted truths: The bastardization of the American Dream is far easier to achieve than the Dream itself. ***
THE HEARTBREAK KID The Farrelly Brothers have a reputation for pushing the envelope when it comes to risky business, but in the case of The Heartbreak Kid, they seem only marginally more daring than Robert Wise helming The Sound of Music. That’s because the 1972 original is one mean-spirited movie, a prickly comedy about an unlikable nebbish (Charles Grodin) who abandons his plain-Jane wife (Jeannie Berlin) on their Miami honeymoon once he spots a beautiful blonde WASP (Cybill Shepherd). The movie stings because the bride hardly deserves the cruel treatment she receives, while the protagonist is selfish, insensitive, and due for a comeuppance that he never really gets. The picture was well-received and earned Oscar nods for Berlin and Eddie Albert (terrific as Shepherd’s dad), but in today’s climate, only the least commercially minded filmmakers would attempt such a poison-laced satire. And the Farrellys, who’ve mellowed over the years, wouldn’t be those filmmakers. So here, the groom (Ben Stiller) is a nice guy, his bride (Malin Akerman) is an outright nightmare, and the beach bunny is no longer a callow, self-centered brat but a sweet, down-to-earth gal (Michelle Monaghan). That’s not to say the siblings have completely backed away from their raunchy roots: There’s plenty of salty language, some acrobatic sex scenes (though why is it that in American movies, a healthy sexual appetite is always depicted as a vice or a disease to be shunned?), and one startling crotch shot. Much of it is funny, some of it merely infantile, but Akerman proves to be a real trouper as she degrades herself in the name of modern movie comedy. **1/2
INTO THE WILD Sean Penn’s performances – even the fine ones – can best be described as overwrought, but place the actor behind the camera, and the opposite holds true: As a director, his preference has been for subtlety rather than showboating. Into the Wild finds him turning in his best directorial effort to date; adapting Jon Krakauer’s based-on-fact novel, he has fashioned a somber, reflective film about a young man whose actions are so open to interpretation that where some will see an idealist, others will see an obnoxious brat; where some will see a martyr, others will merely see a moron. Emile Hirsch delivers a strong performance as Chris McCandless, a well-to-do college graduate who donates all his savings to charity and head for the wilderness. Determined to leave society and all its hypocrisies behind, he treks all over North America’s untamed terrain, meeting a wide range of interesting individuals along the way. Into the Wild is especially memorable in the manner in which it offers no absolutes. Functioning as a bookend piece to Werner Herzog’s excellent documentary Grizzly Man, it demonstrates that nature is as beastly as it is beautiful, and even noble aspirations run the risk of getting trampled under its imposing weight. All of the characters have their say, yet even when people’s opinions run counter to each other’s, everyone is making sense and no one is being disingenuous. Penn obviously feels enormous sympathy for his protagonist, yet he doesn’t present him as a saint, only a charismatic if troubled kid whose defining feature is that he managed to live a life less ordinary. ***
THE KINGDOM Director Peter Berg appears to be an American apologist at heart, which may explain why, after a fascinating title sequence illustrating the United States’ complicated ties to Saudi Arabia, the movie quickly devolves into a standard us-against-them revenge flick. The film opens with a shocking sequence in which a base for American families in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, is destroyed by terrorists, thereby prompting a group of elite FBI agents to undergo a secret mission to find the culprits. The four agents (Jamie Foxx, Chris Cooper, Jennifer Garner and Jason Bateman) are devoid of much in the way of personality, but that’s OK: Their only purpose in this story is to kill Middle Easterners. Lots of them. The message of this 110-minute movie is revealed in its very last line, meaning it arrives about 100 minutes too late. Because of this lack of clear intent, the picture has no choice except to work as a visual and aural assault on our senses. In that respect, it succeeds in much the same way as The Brave One, as a cathartic palate cleanser that allows us to watch bad guys plowed down without sullying our own hands. There’s a sympathetic Saudi officer (Ashraf Barhoum, very good) who, by providing the few moments of warmth, might diffuse arguments that Berg’s movie isn’t anti-terrorist but anti-Middle East – a huge difference, for those who didn’t realize. **1/2
MICHAEL CLAYTON Far easier to follow than its impenetrable trailer would lead one to believe, Michael Clayton plays like Erin Brockovich without the populist appeal – it centers on the title character (George Clooney), a law firm “fixer” who’s always called upon to clean up messy problems for the company’s clients. Hating his job but stuck with it due to massive debts and an expensive divorce, Michael finds himself caught in the middle when Arthur Edens (an excellent Tom Wilkinson), Michael’s good friend and the firm’s best attorney, seemingly goes bonkers and threatens to derail their most important case: defending an agrochemical company against a lawsuit filed by ordinary citizens. Michael’s boss (Sydney Pollack) orders him to talk some sense into Arthur, but it turns out that the agrochemical company’s chief counsel (Tilda Swinton) is willing to go to more extreme lengths to silence the wayward lawyer. Tony Gilroy, adapter of the Jason Bourne novels, makes his directorial debut here (as well as writing the script), and it’s an assured first effort. Almost everything about the movie is muted – the settings, the exchanges, the emotions – and this decision gives the story a real-world gravitas that makes the odious executive actions seem even more plausible than they already are. Gilroy steadfastly avoids including anything that can be deemed extraneous or overreaching, preferring to rest his faith – and the picture’s fate – in the hands of his accomplished actors and in the strength of his own script. There are no real surprises in Michael Clayton, just the awareness of a job well done. ***
RENDITION What’s the point of tackling a real-life hot-button issue if everything about it is presented in an only-in-Hollywood style of fantasy filmmaking? The post-9/11 topic on hand is “extraordinary rendition,” which allows the U.S. government to send suspected terrorists to other countries in order to be interrogated. Since the Bush Administration has no qualms about torturing any foreigners whose skin is darker than, say, Nicole Kidman’s, it’s a viable and volatile subject for a movie to tackle, but Rendition does so in the most simplistic manner possible. Reese Witherspoon plays Isabella, a pregnant mom whose Egyptian-born, U.S.-raised husband (Omar Metwally) has disappeared without a trace, snatched at the Washington, D.C. airport for his suspected part in a bombing. The U.S. government’s evidence is feeble, but Senator Whitman (Meryl Streep, not particularly effective) decides that’s all the proof she needs to ship him off to be subjected to all manner of pain. The American analyst (Jake Gyllenhaal) assigned to preside over the torture finds the treatment shocking; meanwhile, Isabella seeks help from a former college fling (Peter Sarsgaard), who just happens to be the assistant to a senator (Alan Arkin) who works closely with Whitman. As if this weren’t all convenient enough for the sake of tidy storytelling and tentative armchair liberalism, there’s also a plot thread involving a love affair between a terrorist and the daughter of the head of the torture unit. Coupled with a narrative “Gotcha!” more suited to Memento, it all adds up to a dilution of the real issues at hand. With friends like this movie, who needs Dick Cheney? **
THE SEEKER: THE DARK IS RISING The dark may have been rising, but my eyelids were repeatedly falling as I struggled to stay awake during this interminable and exhausting film. Based on one of the books in Susan Cooper’s award-winning fantasy series, The Seeker comes across less as a faithful adaptation of a beloved story than as a cash-in-quick product meant to appease small kids who can’t abide the waits between Harry Potter or Narnia flicks. The story concerns itself with Will Stanton (Alexander Ludwig), an American kid living in a quaint British burg with his large family. Young Will learns from Deadwood‘s Ian McShane and other village protectors that he’s the only person who can enter the eternal fray between “the light” and “the dark” and protect the planet from being conquered by an evil entity known as The Rider (Christopher Eccleston). This designation allows Will to draw upon his heretofore unknown abilities to travel through time, telekinetically start fires, and make a mean martini (OK, just kidding on that last one). About the best one can say regarding The Seeker is that at least it’s preferable to last year’s Eragon, another Fox fantasy yarn with variable special effects, a vapid youth for a lead, and a tendency to plagiarize at will. But when the movie’s not excruciatingly dull, it’s downright cheesy, thanks to the sort of stylistic flourishes (slo-mo action, deliberately shaky camerawork, frame-filling close-ups of furrowed brows) that inspire giggles when the material doesn’t warrant such pseudo-hipster treatment. The smallest children might indeed be wowed by The Seeker, but everyone else will be seeking the nearest exit. *1/2
WE OWN THE NIGHT At least writer-director James Gray sports a surname that helpfully describes his motion pictures. It’s isn’t that Gray’s a poor filmmaker, but his previous efforts – the competent but colorless crime dramas Little Odessa and The Yards – were so ordinary that, years later, I honestly can’t remember a single scene from either one. If nothing else, We Own the Night marks a step in the right direction in that it boasts of one terrific sequence worth recalling: a car-chase-cum-gun-battle unfolding in a rainstorm so blinding and fierce that even the raindrops sound like bullets hitting their designated targets. Beyond this mesmerizing sequence, the movie, set in 1988 New York City, is another example of (crime) business as usual. Bobby Green (Joaquin Phoenix) is a nightclub manager at odds with his brother Joseph (Mark Wahlberg) and his father Burt (Robert Duvall), both respected police officers. But after a drug dealer (Alex Veadov) orders a hit on Joseph, Bobby must choose sides in the fight between law and disorder. Phoenix and Wahlberg (who previously co-starred in The Yards and serve as producers here) are solid but unremarkable, and even a great actor like Duvall can’t do much with his threadbare role. Far more interesting than the casting are Gray’s choices for the songs overheard at a trendy NYC nightclub in 1988: Blondie’s “Heart of Glass” and “Rapture,” both from 1979. Presumably, Gray couldn’t secure the rights for such actual 1988 tunes as New Kids on the Block’s “Please Don’t Go Girl” and Tiffany’s “All This Time” – either that, or good taste simply overtook chronological consistency. **1/2
OPENS FRIDAY, OCTOBER 26:
THE DARJEELING LIMITED: Owen Wilson, Adrien Brody.
LARS AND THE REAL GIRL: Ryan Gosling, Patricia Clarkson.
RANDY AND THE MOB: Ray McKinnon, Lisa Blount.
SAW IV: Tobin Bell, Costas Mandylor.
This article appears in Oct 24-30, 2007.
