BRINGING DOWN THE HOUSE For more years than I can count, Disney's Touchstone arm has specialized in bland, toothless comedies (usually starring the likes of Jim Belushi or Martin Short) that are about as threatening as a dead Chihuahua. Love it or hate it, their latest work doesn't allow for similar fence-sitting, not when the movies it brings to mind are Blazing Saddles, Stir Crazy and the collected oeuvre of the Farrelly Brothers. Racially charged in a manner that some will find offensive while others might consider envelope-pushing, this relates what happens when black ex-convict Charlene (Queen Latifah), insisting she was framed, forces whiter-than-white attorney Peter Sanderson (Steve Martin) to look over the case and try to clear her name. As they work together, sharp-witted Charlene must cope with a parade of wealthy bigots (Betty White, Joan Plowright, Missi Pyle) while stuffy Peter learns lessons in "cool" that allow him to bond with his kids and win back his ex-wife (Jean Smart). The story is utter nonsense, but what makes the film work are the terrific comic performances driving it: Martin hasn't been this engaging in years; Queen Latifah is sexy, sassy, spirited and smart; and Eugene Levy, as a nerd who discovers his inner funk after falling for Charlene, continues to make the case (after Best In Show and American Pie) that he's one of the best second bananas in modern movie comedy. 
TEARS OF THE SUN On the heels of Hart's War, Bruce Willis returns to combat duty in this plodding drama that's about as battle-fatigued as they come. A simplistic story about a heroic Navy SEAL (Willis) who disobeys orders by attempting to save the lives of Nigerian villagers marked for death by rebel extremists, the movie never strives to engage our senses in any pertinent manner -- it's as if the blueprint for the basic outline never left the development table, resulting in a picture that's painted in wide swaths of soldier-boy posturing and pontificating. If anything, Tears of the Sun (a meaningless title, by the way) bears a resemblance to 1999's Three Kings; it's a comparison that does the new film no favors, seeing as how it studiously avoids the complex characterizations and morally muddled politics that drove that earlier film. Willis, a good actor on those rare occasions when he stirs himself out of his cinematic siestas, delivers a one-note performance that consists of grunts and squints -- was Dolph Lundgren not available? Like the dreary screen version of Black Hawk Down, this movie may serve as a slick piece of propaganda ("Two Thumbs Up!" -- Dubya & Powell), but it won't satisfy anyone who prefers to be challenged by contemporary military movies.
CURRENT RELEASES
CHICAGO Not only for theater aficionados, this adaptation of the stage hit is a musical for people who don't even like musicals, weaving its deliriously dark tale with enough cyanide-laced cynicism to win over moviegoers who wouldn't know Oklahoma! from Oh! Calcutta! Director-choreographer Rob Marshall and Oscar-winning scripter Bill Condon (Gods & Monsters) keep the proceedings both lively and lacerating, and if, after years of overexposure, the story's themes relating to the cult of celebrity have all the bite of a toothless gerbil, at least they're presented in an irresistibly engaging fashion. Among other things, this knockout of a musical finds Catherine Zeta-Jones in her best screen work to date, Richard Gere putting forth his finest effort since An Officer and a Gentleman, and Renee Zellweger adding to her string of unassailable performances. Zellweger, that most Kewpie Doll of actresses, turns into Lethal Barbie as she handles the role of Roxie Hart, a starlet wanna-be in Prohibition-era Chicago who, like fellow singer-dancer Velma Kelly (Zeta-Jones), is behind bars for murder. Both women's public images are carefully handled by slick lawyer Billy Flynn (Gere), and all three work the angles to ensure they each land on top. The actors' exuberance and Marshall's imaginative staging just might be enough to raise this once-revered genre from the dead. 1/2
DAREDEVIL In the introduction to the 1975 compendium Son of Origins of Marvel Comics, Stan Lee admitted that of all the superheroes he ever created (including Spider-Man and the X-Men), his favorite was the blind crimefighter who practiced law by day as attorney Matt Murdock and donned the red tights by night as Daredevil. Yet even though Lee himself makes a cameo appearance, I'd be hard-pressed to believe that Daredevil will emerge as his favorite Marvel movie. Like Green Lantern over at DC Comics, Daredevil has always been more a favorite of the cultists than the general population, and it's a shame that this film version doesn't honor that distinction by serving up something truly unique. Instead, this live-action epic, directed by Grumpy Old Men scripter Mark Steven Johnson, is all over the map -- it's by turns affecting, exciting, contemplative, heavy-handed, cheesy, and downright ludicrous. Ben Affleck fares better than expected, and he establishes a nice rapport with Alias star Jennifer Garner, cast as feisty love interest Elektra. And while Michael Clarke Duncan is serviceable as the imposing Kingpin, Colin Farrell (The Recruit) adopts the right manic tone to play the egocentric assassin Bullseye, and runs away with the film. But although there's plenty to like in Daredevil, there's almost as much to dismiss, including a heavy dependence on subpar CGI effects, reams of lead-footed dialogue, and a climactic showdown that's about as exciting as a documentary on aglet production. 1/2
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