Charlotte Film Society
ALL ABOUT EVE The Charlotte Film Society graciously wraps up its winter/spring program with screenings of my all-time favorite motion picture. All About Eve (1950) is writer-director Joseph L. Mankiewicz’s masterpiece set in the world of theater, with ingenue Eve Harrington (Anne Baxter) attempting to professionally and personally snatch the spotlight from established (and aging) star Margo Channing (Bette Davis). Among its many attributes, this features Davis’ career-best performance (“Fasten your seat belts, it’s going to be a bumpy night!”), a knockout script packed with astounding (and often hilarious) dialogue, an early role for Marilyn Monroe, and George Sanders’ indelible turn as cynical critic Addison DeWitt. Nominated for a still-record 14 Academy Awards (since tied by Titanic), this nabbed six statues, including Best Picture, Best Supporting Actor for Sanders, and Best Director and Best Adapted Screenplay for Mankiewicz. Only a death in the family qualifies as a reasonable excuse to miss this one while it’s in town. (All About Eve will be shown at 4 p.m. and 7 p.m. Friday, May 9, through Monday, May 12, at Park Terrace Cinemas. For more information, go to www.charlottefilmsociety.org.) ****
Current Releases
BABY MAMA With Will Ferrell, Adam Sandler and other comedians routinely hoarding the screens in our nation’s multiplexes, here come Tina Fey and Amy Poehler to remind audiences that girls just want to have fun. Indeed, the Cyndi Lauper hit of that name is granted its own karaoke-set scene, and its inclusion is fitting in a movie that’s similarly pointed, joyous, and light on its feet. This stars Fey as Kate Holbrook, a successful businesswoman who, upon finding out that she only has a one-in-a-million chance of getting pregnant, turns to an agency to provide her with a surrogate mom; she ends up getting Angie Ostrowiski (Poehler), who clearly resides several rungs down the social ladder. The plot complications arrive with clockwork precision, and it’s this rigid formula (along with a ludicrous happy ending) that prevents a fine movie from being even better. Yet judging it strictly on its comic merit, Baby Mama delivers (pun not intended, I assure you). Scripter Michael McCullers (who also directed) serves up several killer quips guaranteed to remain among the year’s freshest, and the two perfectly cast leading ladies are backed by an engaging mix of emerging talents. Yet it’s the old pros who really shine: Sigourney Weaver is suitably smug as the head of the surrogate center, gamely being shellacked by some of the script’s best zingers, while Steven Martin is perfect as the owner of an organic health food chain. Martin’s ponytailed character is a real piece of P.C. work, and with this portrayal, the actor emerges as Baby Mama‘s mack daddy. ***
88 MINUTES 88 Minutes actually runs 108 minutes, a cruel trick to play on moviegoers who check their watches at the 80-minute mark and erroneously believe they’re on the verge of being set free. A film so moldy that it was released on DVD in some countries as far back as February 2007, this risible thriller stars Al Pacino as Dr. Jack Gramm, a college professor and forensic psychiatrist whose expertise has helped the FBI in nailing down serial killers. One such murderer is Jon Forster (Neal McDonough), whose claim of innocence – even on the day of his execution – is taken seriously once a new rash of similarly styled killings begins. But are these murders the work of a copycat? Is Forster innocent, and the real killer has never been caught? Is he masterminding the proceedings from his front-row seat on Death Row, with an accomplice on the outside doing his dirty deeds? Or is it possible that the killer is Gramm himself? Director Jon Avnet tries to ratchet up the suspense by presenting every character, right down to bit players, as the possible assassin, but it’s an approach that only garners laughs. It’s usually fun when a murder-mystery offers several suspects, but this goes beyond serving up some red herrings; here, we get trout, tilapia and mahi mahi as well. Scripter Gary Scott Thompson wrote The Fast and the Furious, so that probably explains why Gramm spends a good amount of time driving a taxi (don’t ask) across the city looking for clues. But Thompson also wrote the straight-to-DVD sequels to K-9 – K-911 and K-9: P.I. – so he’s also quite familiar with dogs. Rest assured, 88 Minutes joins the pack of movie mongrels. *1/2
FLAWLESS At a time when banks are being bailed out by Bush’s “for rich people only” government while ordinary citizens are left to flounder, perhaps it’s possible to employ the current string of heist flicks as a mildly cathartic tonic. On the heels of Mad Money, The Bank Job and 21 comes Flawless, in which a pair of hard workers team up to rip off the evil diamond company that takes their services for granted. Set in 1960 London, this stars Demi Moore as Laura Quinn, an executive who’s repeatedly overlooked when it comes time to promote from within. Despite years of dedicated service (and more than her share of innovative ideas), Laura learns from Mr. Hobbs (Michael Caine), the company janitor whose lowly status allows him access to valuable info, that she’s about to be fired. Appealing to her anger, Hobbs asks Laura to assist him in what he deems a foolproof robbery; she accepts, only to discover the scheme is more elaborate than she imagined. For the first hour, the film plays as we’d expect – the planning of the heist, the handling of unexpected complications and the job itself. This part is entertaining enough, further fueled by the subtext of watching this ambitious woman try to compete in an all-male world determined to shut her out. But the movie really takes off during its second half, and even some lapses in logic can’t overtake the satisfying twists. The modern-day framing device is worthless – it opens with Moore in terrible old-age makeup and ends with a heavy-handed “Carpe Diem” cheer – but the period pic between these bookends is, if not worth its weight in gold (or diamonds), at least worth the price of a movie ticket. ***
FORGETTING SARAH MARSHALL Those afraid that the dismal Drillbit Taylor marked the beginning of the end for Hollywood wunderkind Judd Apatow (The 40-Year-Old Virgin, Knocked Up) can relax: Forgetting Sarah Marshall (on which he serves as producer) finds him again on the rise. Jason Segel (who also scripted) plays Peter Bretter, a nondescript guy who writes the filler music for the TV crime series starring his celebrity girlfriend, Sarah Marshall (Kristen Bell). After five years together, Sarah dumps Peter for self-centered and none-too-bright musician Aldous Snow (Russell Brand), a rejection that sends Peter spiraling into self-pity. He flees to Hawaii to escape from it all, only to end up at the same hotel as Sarah and Aldous; it’s only through the efforts of Rachel (Mila Kunis), the resort’s desk clerk, that Peter’s able to occasionally follow through on the title action. Apatow’s films are hailed for successfully mixing raunchy moments with heartfelt ones, but their greatest strength might actually be the depth of their benches. Even the most minor characters are a joy to be around, and that’s the case here as well, whether it’s the brain-fried surf instructor (a very funny Paul Rudd) or the fawning waiter (Jonah Hill) or the newlywed (Jack McBrayer) who’s freaked out by his wife’s bedroom prowess. As for the leads, Segel is an affable underdog, Bell displays some choice reaction shots, Kunis is talented enough to turn her role into more than just a Male Fantasy, and Brand – the MVP among strong competition – is spot-on as the British rocker who manages to turn vanity into an endearing character trait. ***
HAROLD & KUMAR ESCAPE FROM GUANTANAMO BAY 2004’s Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle looks better with each passing year, but it’s pretty much guaranteed that Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay won’t be enjoying a similar critical ascension in the future. That’s largely because the satire is less subversive and more overt, meaning that what you see is basically what you get. Kal Penn and John Cho are again an engaging team, and here, the plot requires their characters to get mistaken for terrorists, leading to an interrogation by a moronic Homeland Security honcho (Rob Corddry) who decides to send them to Guantanamo Bay to enjoy a steady diet of “cock-meat sandwiches.” But before long, the boys escape and find themselves on a cross-country odyssey that involves inbred Southerners, a “bottomless” party, dimwitted Klansmen (or is that a redundancy?) and even George W. Bush himself. And yes, Neil Patrick Harris returns, again playing himself as a sex-crazed, foul-mouthed party animal. The bawdy gags aren’t particularly fresh; more amusing is the dead-on parody of right-wing twits who question the patriotism of everyone who isn’t exactly like them (i.e. white and pseudo-Christian); these scenes aren’t exactly subtle, but they do point out the line that can barely divide satire from reality (just ask Barack “Do you believe in the American flag?” Obama). Curiously, the movie’s portrayal of Dubya is a sympathetic one. As played by James Adomian, the president turns out to be a congenial, simple-minded pothead who isn’t evil, just misunderstood. Coming from Hollywood, that’s high praise indeed. **1/2
NIM’S ISLAND If your kids have been totally weaned on ADD-addled animated flicks that mostly coast on crude humor and instantly dated pop culture references, then this clearly isn’t the film for them. If, however, said children still find as much enjoyment (if not more so) in opening a book as in piloting a video game’s remote control, then this delightful family film will satisfy them in no small measure. Like last year’s Bridge to Terabithia, it views a child’s imagination as a tangible playground, and this angle is sharply delineated by the colorful flourishes of directors Jennifer Flackett and Mark Levin. Jodie Foster, the most prominent child actress of the 1970s, here hands the torch to Abigail Breslin, with the latter playing Nim, a precocious girl who lives on a remote island with her scientist father (Gerard Butler). When she’s not frolicking with her animal friends, Nim enjoys reading adventure novels featuring the Indiana Jones-like Alex Rover, so when her dad goes missing and strangers invade the island, she naturally e-mails Alex Rover to help her. What her young mind doesn’t grasp is that her hero doesn’t actually exist; instead, the books are written by Alexandra Rover (Foster), an eccentric agoraphobe who carries on conversations with her fictional creation (also played by Butler) and who reluctantly sets out to help Nim in her hour of need. Nim’s Island is occasionally silly (as befits a movie aimed at youngsters), but the sumptuous visuals as well as the presence of Foster insure that discerning adults will also find it worthwhile. ***
21 Loosely adapted from Ben Mezrich’s fact-based bestseller Bringing Down the House, 21 is an entertaining and fast-paced film that occasionally manages to make the act of counting cards seem as exciting as this past winter’s Super Bowl – and as perilous as climbing Mount Everest with both eyes closed. Jim Sturgess (Across the Universe) plays Ben Campbell, a brilliant MIT student who needs some serious dough in order to be able to afford a stint at Harvard. He catches the eye of Micky Rosa (Kevin Spacey), a shrewd professor whose extracurricular activity is training a hand-picked group of students in the art of counting cards at the blackjack table. Micky welcomes Ben to a gang that already includes two guys (Aaron Yoo and Jacob Pitts) and two girls (Kate Bosworth and Liza Lapira), and together they set off on weekly excursions to Las Vegas to clean up. Yet although they believe they’re operating under the wire, their winning ways – not to mention squabbles from within – catch the eye of an old-school casino enforcer (Laurence Fishburne) who casually takes cheaters to a back room and beats them to a pulp. 21 works best during its first act, when the fascinating con game is explained to Ben (and to us), and during its second act, when Ben feels his life spiraling out of control. Scripters Peter Steinfeld and Allan Loeb only lose their grip during the third act, when an important plot point too lumpy to swallow leads to a series of increasingly unbelievable developments. Yet even during this convoluted section, director Robert Luketic and a perfectly cast Spacey insure that this stylish film maintains a winning hand. ***
UNDER THE SAME MOON The story of a boy struggling mightily to be reunited with his mother can be approached in any number of ways. This film’s title suggests perhaps a whiff of magical surrealism; the sidebar topic (illegal immigration) hints at far more somber material. The end result falls somewhere in between, and somehow it works – at least until all those pesky coincidences get in the way. Director Patricia Riggen’s movie centers on 9-year-old Carlitos (adorable Adrian Alonso), a Mexican lad who’s been living with his grandmother for the past four years while his mother Rosario (Kate del Castillo) has been working in Los Angeles. Once Granny dies, Carlitos elects to hightail it to the States with a wad of cash in his pocket. Crossing the border proves to be a tricky situation, but his real problems begin when he inconveniently (but oh-so-conveniently for the sake of the narrative) loses his poorly secured dough and must make it to L.A. relying only on his wits and the occasional kindness of strangers. Did I say occasional? Except for a druggie who attempts to sell the kid to a sicko sex lord, Carlitos encounters nothing but kindly folks – even a grouchy laborer (Eugenio Derbez) with no love for children eventually takes the lad under his wing. It’s a warmhearted story with some nice humorous touches – best of all, the inclusion of the song “Superman es ilegal,” which persuasively makes the case that the foreign-born Man of Steel is no more American than the Mexicans trying to sneak into the United States – yet all of the film’s cumulative power repeatedly gets let out via lazy plot contrivances shamelessly included by scripter Ligiah Villalobos as a simplistic way to move the story from Point A to B and beyond. **1/2
THE YEAR MY PARENTS WENT ON VACATION This Brazilian import is a coming-of-age film that itself seems to have come of age about 30 years ago. Formulaic beyond even the usual dictates of the genre, it’s a draggy yarn that captures little of the excitement or emotion of a child’s formative years; had Federico Fellini ever been confronted by this thing, the director of Amarcord would have eaten it alive. Set in 1970 Brazil, the movie follows young Mauro (Michel Joelsas) after he’s dumped onto his grandfather’s porch in a Jewish community. It seems that the leftist politics of Mauro’s parents have forced them to take it on the lam, though they shield the truth from their son by telling him they’re going on vacation. To his horror, Mauro discovers that his grandfather has died of a heart attack just before his arrival; luckily for him, there’s a neighbor down the hall, a religious man named Schlomo (Germano Haiut), who provides him with food and shelter. A soccer fanatic, Mauro clings to his father’s promise that they’ll return before the World Cup championship, a vow that seems less likely to come to fruition as time passes. The political aspects of the tale, which might have provided it with more juice, are kept vague; dominating the proceedings are the expected kid shenanigans, such as playing ball, attempting to understand grown-up rituals (Schlomo gives him gefilte fish for breakfast), and trying to sneak peaks at naked women. Director and co-writer Cao Hamburger presents all of this in such a timid and sanitized manner that one would suspect childhood wasn’t a messy affair. Unfortunately for Hamburger, we’ve all been there, done that. **
YOUNG@HEART In the documentary Young@Heart, the work is already half-done within five minutes of the picture’s first frame. A movie about a group of senior citizens (average age: 80) who tour internationally as a chorus covering rock and pop hits? Who could possibly resist such a sweet premise? Fortunately, director Stephen Walker moves the material far beyond its easy setting as a simple, feel-good romp; by the time it’s all over, audience members will be moved (to laughter and tears), enlightened and inspired. Initially, the tone is light, as the first part of the film introduces us to the people who make up this Massachusetts-based choir. If remembering lyrics were all these folks had to worry about, then they’d have it pretty easy. Unfortunately, with their advanced years comes advanced ailments, and before long, some of them are having to make ever-increasing visits to the hospital to monitor heart and/or cancer conditions. Thus, the movie morphs from simply showing how the unifying power of music can cross all lines (including age and social class) to touching on the notion that these senior citizens, like sharks, need to constantly be moving to stay alive. That Death still makes a appearance or two while they’re pouring themselves into their songs makes our heartbreak all that more pronounced. Yet ultimately, Young@Heart is far from a bummer: Instead, it’s a tribute to this nation’s elderly, an ode to the power of the arts, and a salute to David Bowie, Bruce Springsteen, Jimi Hendrix and the other musicians whose songs have found new rhyme and reason thanks to these geriatric rockers. ***1/2
OPENS FRIDAY, MAY 9:
REDBELT: Chiwetel Ejiofor, Tim Allen.
SPEED RACER: Emile Hirsch, Christina Ricci.
WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS: Cameron Diaz, Ashton Kutcher.
This article appears in May 7-13, 2008.
