Sex For The Holidays | Features | Creative Loafing Charlotte
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Sex For The Holidays 

Plus new films from Jim Carrey, Adam Sandler and Brad Pitt

Before the orgasm, there was the gall wasp.Alfred C. Kinsey, a professor at Indiana University, spent approximately two decades collect-ing and labeling over a million of these insects before his attention turned to a subject intrinsically more interesting to the common man (and woman): human sexuality. His controversial methods and conclusions formed the basis for his 1948 bestseller Sexual Behavior In the Human Male, and the ramifications of his groundbreaking work are still being felt -- and refuted -- today.

Kinsey, then, is an exploration of the life and times of this complex individual, a man whose outrageous career choices were often at odds with the rather square nature by which he presented himself. The rumors surrounding Kinsey -- some truthful (his bisexuality), some nonsensical (the notion that he was a Communist trying to undermine American decency by talking about s-e-x), some still being debated today (did his extensive data involving children indicate he was a pedophile or merely a neutral gatherer of others' immoral activities?) -- made him a constant target of the religious right, who, as the past presidential campaign once again confirmed, are only satisfied when all Americans are ideologically marching lockstep to their own narrow-minded principles. Kinsey therefore emerges not only as a movie about another time but as a movie of our time, a reminder that progress can be made only when someone's willing to step up to the plate and challenge conformity and complacency.

During those years in the late 30s and 40s, Alfred Kinsey (marvelously played by Liam Neeson) had plenty to challenge. Convinced of the need for sex education that's informative and accurate -- as opposed to the fire-and-brimstone tirades of a repressed colleague (Tim Curry) -- Kinsey opts to teach a sex ed class, but soon finds that he doesn't have answers for many of his students' questions. A sexual novice himself -- he's a virgin when he marries student Clara McMillen (Laura Linney, matching her costar step for step) -- he then assembles a research team and begins collecting valuable data regarding all forms of human sexuality. He interviews college students, invades the suburbs, scouts the gay bars, and even enters into a homosexual romance with one of his assistants (Peter Sarsgaard). But Kinsey's research comes at a price, particularly in the way this difficult man subjugates his emotions and empathy for others in pursuit of his science.

Kinsey makes no apologies for its subject's often infuriating behavior -- in that manner, it has much in common with writer-director Bill Condon's previous feature Gods and Monsters, which presented Frankenstein director James Whale as tragically flawed yet allowed us a look at those personal demons that all too often defined his very being. Kinsey, sharply scripted and packed with powerhouse performances (look for John Lithgow packing a punch as Alfred's Bible-thumping dad), likewise pulls back the covers with similar aplomb, exposing its subject even as it hopes to reveal some naked truths about ourselves.

The press material for the new film Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events boasts that the literary franchise from which it was adapted featured "the first books to knock the Harry Potter series off the top of the New York Times children's bestseller list." It's only fitting, then, that Paramount Pictures and DreamWorks Pictures have chosen this property to compete with the Harry Potter movies for the loose change of impressionable young filmgoers eager to invest in a similar vein of benign doom 'n' gloom. Yet the motion picture that emerges never feels like much more than a pale imitation of the Harry Potter legend, and the incessant mugging of its featured player proves to be an added hindrance.Jim Carrey has shrewdly been mixing up his career choices, offering award-flirting turns in movies like Man On the Moon and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind while placating the masses with his perfected shtick in such titles as Bruce Almighty and Liar Liar. Yet even in his broadest work, it's difficult to see the gears in motion -- his comedic instincts are so fine-tuned, he morphs into his personas with amazing ease. Not so in this new picture. As Count Olof, a villainous actor who seeks to inherit a fortune by knocking off three intelligent orphans (Liam Aiken, Emily Browning, and Kara and Shelby Hoffman alternating as baby Sunny), Carrey delivers a disappointing performance, the sort of calculated turn we had come to routinely expect from Robin Williams until his recent dramatic awakening. Even in the lambasted How the Grinch Stole Christmas, there was a through line to Carrey's character, resulting in one of the actor's most diabolically satisfying portrayals. In Lemony Snicket, no similar game plan exists -- it's merely an excuse to watch Carrey ham it up in various guises, and the showboating grows tiresome before long.

Luckily, other elements of the project come to the rescue. The children are aptly cast, and the subtitled translations of baby Sunny's coos and cackles are very funny. Jude Law provides the voice-over narration as writer Lemony Snicket, and his moody musings make up the bulk of the best lines in Robert Gordon's screenplay. And cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki, production designer Rick Heinrichs and costume designer Colleen Atwood, who had previously teamed up to give Sleepy Hollow its distinctive look, create another grim landscape that manages to be beautiful in its beastliness.

Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events will likely be successful enough to warrant more entries in this burgeoning film franchise. Let's just hope that next time around, everyone won't have to work so hard to turn it into more than a one-man show.Already, there's been a lot of talk regarding the often odious behavior of the four characters at the center of the ferocious water-cooler piece Closer. Yet I would gladly invite this quartet over to my house for Christmas dinner if in return I would never have to spend another minute with Tea Leoni's unbearable character from James L. Brooks' Spanglish.With an Oscar out of the question, Leoni should probably win some sort of Good Sport award for enduring the humiliations that Brooks throws her way in this otherwise easy-to-take comedy-drama. The actress, who already played (nicely, I might add) a neurotic in Flirting With Disaster, is now forced to take that charac-terization to the extreme -- her Deborah Clasky is presented as a miserable excuse for a compan-ion, a wife and mother whose behavior doesn't make her intriguing, merely insufferable. Having already navigated Shirley MacLaine, Debra Winger and Holly Hunter to magnificent performances in Terms of Endearment and Broadcast News (and overrated Helen Hunt to an inexplicable Oscar for As Good As It Gets), Brooks probably figured he was doing the actress a favor by handing her a role that allowed her to throw all caution to the wind. Yet instead, the movie's true star is a newcomer to American cinema, celebrated Spanish actress Paz Vega.

Vega delivers a luminescent performance in the movie's largest part: Flor, a Mexican immigrant with brainy 12-year-old daughter Cristina (Shelbie Bruce) in tow. While Cristina learns to speak English during their years living in LA, Flor never makes the effort, meaning it's an uphill climb once she leaves their Hispanic community to seek employment among the gringos. Flor lands a job as housekeeper for Debbie Klasky and her husband John (Adam Sandler), a soft-spoken chef constantly working at being a good dad to an insecure daughter (terrific Sarah Steele) and a patient husband to his lunatic wife. But as Debbie's behavior continues to alienate everyone around her, John finds himself seeking solace in the company of Flor, a development that could lead to complications down the line.

Brooks is nothing if not an ambitious writer, and his script manages to address pertinent issues ranging from the oversized (and often casually cruel) expectations parents place on their offspring to the difficulty of remaining true to one's own cultural heritage when there's a shinier one just within reach. In most respects, Brooks handles these themes with sensitivity, and most of his cast responds in kind. Sandler has rarely been this laid back on screen, while Cloris Leachman, as Leoni's booze-guzzling mother, sparkles in the sort of colorful role that usually wins veteran actors a nomination or two during awards season. Indeed, the only sour note in this melodious movie comes from Leoni's character, and fortunately, it's ultimately not enough to cripple the film.As one of the proud members of America's Eleven -- i.e., one of those 11 moviegoers in the continental US who didn't understand the big deal about the box office smash Ocean's Eleven -- my expectations weren't exactly sky-high for Ocean's Twelve. Except for a couple of self-contained set pieces and some fine work by Brad Pitt, Elliot Gould and Bernie Mac, Steven Soderbergh's 2001 remake of the 1960 Rat Pack yarn (itself a mediocre "home movie" masquerading as a studio film) wasted lots of top talent in a threadbare project that had nothing going on beneath its air of cool collectedness.Ocean's Twelve is more of the same: a bunch of pampered, overpaid movie stars getting together with their directing buddy to shoot scenes for a film in between their nonstop partying through European and American hot spots. Only this time, instead of feeling like I was being forcibly ejected from the club, I at least felt like I was allowed a seat at the bar. Ocean's Twelve isn't much better than its predecessor, but at least there's a more focused attempt to create something tangible. There are more laughs, more satisfying complications, and more material for some of its star players to sink their million-dollar teeth into.

The plot has to do with venal casino owner Terry Benedict's (Andy Garcia) attempts to get back the money that master criminal Danny Ocean (George Clooney) and his posse had stolen from him. It's a barely passable narrative thread, but it allows Julia Roberts and Matt Damon (whose roles in the first film scarcely existed) more opportunities to strut their stuff, and it opens the door for the addition of French actor Vincent Cassel (Irreversible) as a renowned international thief.

The best sequence finds Roberts' character, Tess, forced to impersonate the real Julia Roberts in order to help pull off a heist; complications arise when an A-list actor (in an unbilled cameo) stops by to engage "Julia" in some mindless chitchat. It's the sort of self-reverential moment that would seem more natural in an Altman flick, and its inclusion here is greatly appreciated.

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