Current Releases
THE BRAVE ONE It was simpler back in 1974, when it was called Death Wish. After thugs murder his wife and rape his daughter, businessman Charles Bronson hits the streets with the purpose of blowing away all human vermin. As a film, it's unpretentious, straightforward and effective as hell. This is basically a retread of Death Wish, only with a sex change for its protagonist and, given the director (The Crying Game's Neil Jordan) and star (Jodie Foster), a more distinguished pedigree. It also purports to add dramatic heft to the moral implications of the situation, with an ad line that blares, "How Many Wrongs To Make It Right?" But the movie itself clearly doesn't believe in its own promotion, resulting in a finished product that works as exploitation but fails at anything more socially relevant. Still, the very setup of the piece -- radio host Erica Bain turns vigilante after street punks kill her fiancé (Naveen Andrews) -- makes it impossible not to line up behind her, and on that primal level, this delivers the goods. Tempering the bloodshed is the relationship between Erica and a sympathetic detective; Terrence Howard is effectively low-key as the cop, just as Foster brings everything to the table for her raw performance. I just wish she would accept a different sort of part; she's rarely less than excellent, but for years now, she's settled into making movies in which she portrays a largely desexed woman who's all business and no pleasure (Panic Room, Flightplan, Inside Man, etc.). Mind you, I'm not suggesting an insipid romantic comedy opposite Bruce Willis, but I'm sure there's a happy medium to be found somewhere. **1/2
EASTERN PROMISES In a sense, Eastern Promises is a bookend to the last film made by director David Cronenberg and star Viggo Mortensen: 2005's excellent A History of Violence, about an ordinary cafe owner who may or may not have been a vicious mobster in his earlier years. Both films run along parallel tracks, full of whispery menace, marked by probing studies of masculinity at its extreme boundaries, punctuated with bursts of sexual and violent excess, and coping with abrupt endings. A History of Violence's hurried third act still carried enough weight to leave viewers satisfied, but Eastern Promises falls a bit short in the final count, taking some turns that are far more conventional than just about anything Cronenberg has ever done in his long and eccentric career and not allowing viewers enough time to come to terms with these contrivances. As Nikolai Luzhin, a taciturn chauffeur who works for the Vory V Zakone outfit (the Russian mafia) in London, Mortensen delivers a measured and restrained performance, whether dealing with the drunken son (Vincent Cassel) of the powerful crime lord (Armin Mueller-Stahl, absolutely chilling as the soft-spoken yet vicious kingpin) or trying to protect a hospital midwife (Naomi Watts) whose recovery of a dead prostitute's diary places her right in the middle of a particularly sordid scenario. A steamroom sequence in which Mortensen's character fights two assassins in the buff is sure to generate plenty of Internet chatter -- if only Frodo could see him now. ***
THE HUNTING PARTY Writer-director Richard Shepard's The Matador, about the relationship between a hit man and a family man, was a smooth blend of jet-black comedy and hard-edged drama, and he's going for the same mix again. Thus, we find TV journalist Simon Hunt (Richard Gere) and cameraman Duck (Terrence Howard) drinking, joking and whoring as they make their way through the world's hot spots. But one day, a slaughter in a Bosnian village causes Simon to lose it on the air, and as a result, his career is over. Five years later, Duck returns to that area, where a disheveled Simon needs his help to land an exclusive interview with an exiled war criminal. Loosely based on an Esquire article, this opens with a disclaimer that "only the most ridiculous parts are true." As it stands, that's only partially correct. It's no problem accepting that everyone (including the CIA) knows the whereabouts of the world's most heinous war criminals but can't be bothered to apprehend them; we are, after all, living in a country that gave up the hunt for Osama bin Laden a long time ago, meaning that bureaucratic incompetence and indifference are all too easy to believe. Rather, the parts that are hard to digest are the ones that feel more like movie conventions than anything based in the real world: the Lethal Weapon banter between the leads, the shoehorning in of a sketchy character (Jesse Eisenberg as a rookie reporter) for nebbishy comic relief, the dramatic last-minute rescues. It's a testament to the convictions of Gere and Howard that the movie succeeds at all; without them, The Hunting Party would continually be shooting itself in the foot. **1/2
THE KING OF KONG: A FISTFUL OF QUARTERS When the video game phenomenon exploded during the early 80s, the charge was led by such innovative -- and now charmingly retro -- challenges like "Pac-Man," "Galaga" and "Asteroids." But it was "Donkey Kong" that emerged as the most popular -- and reportedly most difficult -- of all these primitive games. The King of Kong initially centers on gaming deity Billy Mitchell, who, as a teenager back in the day, set the "Kong" high-score record, a feat that hadn't come close to being equaled in over 20 years. But cut to the present, and along comes Steve Wiebe, a family man who, possessing a pinch of the autistic about him, proves himself to be a "Donkey Kong" player extraordinaire. Steve catches the attention of the gaming community, and the old guard begins to worry that this affable guy can overthrow their figurehead. As for Billy Mitchell, he turns uglier and uglier right before our eyes, as his actions resemble those of a bratty child more than a world champion. Documentaries about competitions (Spellbound, Mad Hot Ballroom, Wordplay) invariably lead to a climactic contest to determine who's the best of the best, but with The King of Kong, director Seth Gordon has managed to tap into a true-life tale that veers off-course more than once. A study of both chronic adolescence and the need to win (and keep winning), as well as a compendium of memorable characters (wait until you get a load of the self-named "Mr. Awesome," who's anything but), The King of Kong is a documentary that successfully takes it to the next level. ***1/2
RUSH HOUR 3 Exactly 50 years ago, Max Von Sydow was exploring philosophical issues of life and death in the recently departed Ingmar Bergman's masterpiece The Seventh Seal; now, he's relegated to a small role in the background to make room for the increasingly unfunny antics of Chris Tucker. If there's a more depressing commentary to be made on the current state of cinema, I can't imagine what it might be. Jackie Chan, still up for any challenge at the age of 54, has considerably slowed down in recent years, and his up-close-and-personal brand of fighting has lost much of its vibrancy. It hardly matters, though, as even this longtime audience favorite is expected to take a back seat to the incessant shenanigans of his costar. Tucker once again lets loose with a steady stream of slurs that targets women, gays, Asians, tall people, fat people, French people (Roman Polanski appears as a Parisian inspector who enjoys performing rectal probes) and doubtless others that have slipped my mind. It's not funny, just tedious -- when it comes to insult humor, he's clearly no Redd Foxx. There's one great line involving Starbucks, and, as always, the outtakes provide a few smiles. Otherwise, Rush Hour 3 is a total dud, as well as the worst sequel to appear in this overcrowded summer movie season. *
SHOOT 'EM UP Clearly, Shoot 'Em Up is simplistic, nihilistic, misogynistic, sadistic and just about any other "-istic" that comes to mind. Just as clearly, this is the movie that writer-director Michael Davis wanted to make: It's a picture with a purpose, and that purpose is to shoot first and never get around to asking questions later. From its opening scene to its final image, it's an orgy of death and destruction, and while gorehounds and fanboys will love it (if only because of two examples of death by carrot stick), it's 50-50 as to whether other palates will savor this particular dish. The first half-hour is especially painful, but once the absurdist heights to which Davis aspires become obvious, the remainder is easier to endure. Sharing some plot DNA with Eastern Promises, the story involves the protection of a newborn baby by folks who want to keep the child out of the clutches of murderous mobsters. That's pretty much where the similarity ends, as Shoot 'Em Up takes its cue from Looney Tunes cartoons (Clive Owen's hero even says "What's up, doc?" while munching on a carrot) more than anything else except maybe the Quentin Tarantino oeuvre. This stylish but soulless picture also gives us a lactating hooker (don't ask), a having-its-cake-and-slinging-it-too plot strand involving the blessings of gun control (this from a movie that makes The Wild Bunch look like On Golden Pond by comparison), and a sneering turn by Paul Giamatti as an eye-rolling scumbag who at one point exclaims, "Fuck me sideways!" Sideways? Is that line merely a coincidence, or a deliberate reference to Giamatti's career high point? Only the actor's agent knows for sure. **
SYDNEY WHITE The title Sydney White only tells half the story: Since this is a modern-day version of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, a more apt marquee filler would have been Sydney White and the Seven Dorks (reportedly the shooting title). Yet whatever its moniker, the news flash is that this mallrat bait frequently rises above its formulaic trappings. Here, our heroine, far more resourceful than the helpless Snow White from the Disney cartoon, is Sydney White (Amanda Bynes), who trots off to college to join the sorority to which her late mother belonged. But said sorority is headed by a frigid blonde beauty (Sara Paxton) who takes an instant dislike to Sydney and does everything to discredit her in social circles. Eventually, Sydney ends up rooming with the campus geeks, seven misfits who benefit by her presence; meanwhile, a prince shows up in the form of a fraternity president (Matt Long) who responds to her warmth and quirky sense of humor. That a hunky frat boy would show empathy for the college nerds -- let alone date beneath his Greek status -- is a more fantastical notion than anything dreamed up by Walt Disney, Hans Christian Andersen or the Brothers Grimm, but swallow that contrivance and the rest largely falls into place. Too often, scripter Chad Creasey grows slack with the satire, and what's left is a standard teen comedy, no better and no worse than others that have glutted the multiplexes. But when Creasey's game is on, the movie is clever and charming. The updates to the magic mirror and the poison apple are both inspired, yet what really won me over was the spin on "Heigh-Ho." And no, I won't reveal it here. **1/2
3:10 TO YUMA Based on a short story by Elmore Leonard, the 1957 3:10 to Yuma retains its status as a solid Western, typical of the psychologically rooted oaters that emerged in force during that decade. Adding roughly a half-hour to the original's 92-minute running time, the new take includes more characters and more action sequences, but it takes care not to water down the battle of wills between its two leading characters. In Glenn Ford's old role, Russell Crowe plays Ben Wade, a captured outlaw who's scheduled to be transferred via train to the prison in Yuma, Arizona. Dan Evans (Christian Bale in the Van Heflin part) is a rancher by nature -- he's so mild-mannered that his own wife (Gretchen Mol) and son (Logan Lerman) are often disappointed in him -- but because he's about to lose his home and cattle, he agrees to help deliver Wade to the train for $200. Crowe pours on his bad-boy charisma as Ben Wade, milking it for maximum effect, while Bale embodies the noblest traits that can possibly be found in such a disreputable arena as the Old West. The strong supporting cast is headed up by Peter Fonda as Byron McElroy, a leathery bounty hunter whose past assignments (including the massacre of Native American women and children) qualifies him as one sleazy rider. ***
OPENS FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 28:
FEAST OF LOVE: Morgan Freeman, Greg Kinnear.
THE GAME PLAN: The Rock, Kyra Sedgwick.
THE KINGDOM: Jamie Foxx, Chris Cooper.
2 DAYS IN PARIS: Julie Delpy, Adam Goldberg.