Current Releases
AMERICAN GANGSTER American Gangster is yet one more tale about a confident crime figure who rises to the top before taking that inevitable plunge down the elevator shaft. Yet for all its familiar trappings, director Ridley Scott and writer Steven Zaillian invest their tale with plenty of verve, even if they frequently soft-pedal the deeds of their real-life protagonist. Denzel Washington, perhaps our most charismatic actor, has been charged with bringing Frank Lucas to the screen, and, as expected, he turns the Harlem kingpin into a magnetic menace, a self-starter who becomes a millionaire by eliminating the middle man in the drug trade. American Gangster could easily have been called American Capitalist or American Dreamcatcher – it’s a Horatio Alger tale shot up with heroin – but perhaps sensing that Lucas’ fine qualities might likely overshadow the fact that he’s selling death to his own people (only one sequence hammers home the horrors brought about by Lucas’ exploits), Scott and Zaillian offer up a standard movie hero in Richie Roberts (Russell Crowe), the honest cop tasked with busting open the New York/Jersey drug racket. Roberts could have come across as a cardboard saint, but thanks to Crowe’s deft underplaying, he’s an interesting figure and strikes a nice counterbalance to the more dynamic Frank Lucas. American Gangster is long but not overlong – its 160 minutes are well spent – and while it never achieves the epic grandeur of, say, The Godfather (for one thing, the real-life denouement prohibits any Scarface-style theatrics), it manages to pump a measure of respect back into a genre that thrives on it. ***
AUGUST RUSH The sound of music comes alive in this charming family film that pushes the always-welcome message that the arts – in this case, music – can inform and enhance our lives, leading us to places we’ve never been and allowing us to establish meaningful contacts with other like-minded people. There’s no denying that the movie, which often plays like Oliver Twist as conceived by the dance troupe Stomp, is sweet and heartfelt and full of passion. But there’s also no denying that it’s clunky, haphazard and not especially well-written or efficiently directed. If you’ve seen the trailer, which seems to go out of its way to reveal every important scene, then you already know that August Rush is the story of Evan Taylor (Freddie Highmore), an orphan whose parents – a cellist (Keri Russell) and a guitarist (Jonathan Rhys Meyers) – don’t even know he exists (Mom was told by her controlling father that he died during childbirth). But young Evan is determined to find his parents, and he believes that through music they can be reunited; i.e. that they’ll be able to magically hear him and locate him. Thus, he escapes from the orphanage, making his way to New York City and falling in with a band of street kids working for a Fagin-like musician-promoter (Robin Williams). That Williams’ character turns out to be a controlling bully is one of the picture’s few surprises; everything else falls neatly into place, thanks to a script that needs about 128 coincidences to retain its forward momentum. The best way to enjoy August Rush, then, is to accept it completely as a fantasy; applying any sense of realism to any of its scenes might cause one’s head to explode. **1/2
BEE MOVIE The best thing about Bee Movie isn’t even in the film. It’s the jar of Ray Liotta Honey sent to members of the media, and there’s something so surreal, so absurd, about seeing the GoodFella’s mug on a food product that it tickled the fancy with promises of an animated feature that would follow suit. Unfortunately, Bee Movie is the same nondescript toon tale we’ve pretty much come to expect from any animated outlet not named Pixar. In this one, it’s Jerry Seinfeld contributing the vocals to the central character, a bee (named Barry) who leaves the hive to explore the world outside. He finds a New York City full of sound and fury, but also one that contains a sweet florist named Vanessa (Renee Zellweger). Breaking the long-standing rule that bees must never talk to humans, Barry makes contact with Vanessa, and the two strike up an unorthodox friendship. But Barry freaks out once he spots the rows of honey lining supermarket shelves: The bees work hard to make that honey, and, feeling that his kind are being exploited, he ends up suing humankind. The appearance by Liotta (or, rather, his toon rendition) is a high point, certainly more clever than the cameos by Sting and the tiresome Larry King. In fact, Liotta outshines just about everyone, including dull Matthew Broderick as Barry’s best friend. And while most animated features, even the bad ones, champion individuality, this flies in the opposite direction by rallying around the notions of conformity and subservience. Surely that’s not what the filmmakers intended, but regardless, it kills the good buzz that the movie manages to generate in spurts. **
BEFORE THE DEVIL KNOWS YOU’RE DEAD If I’m still around at the age of 83, I doubt I’ll even be able to successfully navigate the remote control. Yet here’s the great veteran director Sidney Lumet (Twelve Angry Men, Dog Day Afternoon, The Verdict, and on and on and on), at the helm of an impressive picture that’s earning him his best reviews in ages. And for most of the way, this deserves those stellar notices, but like a long-distance runner who miscalculates his own endurance level, it falters at the very end, with a two-pronged wrap-up that disappoints with both barrels. Yet this isn’t the fault of Lumet as much as first-time screenwriter Kelly Masterson, who otherwise contributes a compelling script that adds a twist to the standard heist flick by also making it a personal family drama. Philip Seymour Hoffman heads the powerhouse cast as Andy, who, sensing that money might be the way to save his faltering marriage (to Marisa Tomei’s Gina), talks his weak-willed younger brother Hank (Ethan Hawke, never better) into taking part in the robbery of a jewelry store – the one owned by their parents (Albert Finney and Rosemary Harris). Devil spins its story in a fragmented style that skips between past and present, but as played out, this technique isn’t merely for show but as an immediate way to pinpoint how each dire consequence is the result of several major and minor decisions. But the ending’s a cheat, with one plotline feeling rushed and another feeling abandoned. Still, while Masterson’s script might come up a hair short, Lumet remains firmly in control: Even at 83, there’s nothing arthritic about his ability to engage our emotions or our intellect. ***
BEOWULF For the record, this isn’t a review of Beowulf. It’s a review of Beowulf in Digital 3D, and I have to assume that might make some degree of difference. Director Robert Zemeckis, whose 2004 The Polar Express felt like an animated feature that had been embalmed, again employs the “performance capture” technique with far greater success, overlaying real actors with a cartoon sheen and placing them in the middle of a CGI landscape. In 2D, which is how the film is being shown in most theaters, this runs the risk of looking as soulless as many other CGI works, but in 3D (at select venues), it results in a positively astonishing experience. Tossed coins roll directly toward the camera, spears poke directly out at audience members, and even an animated Angelina Jolie’s, umm, assets seem more pronounced than usual. Based on the ancient poem, the script by Neil Gaiman and Roger Avary doesn’t always match the movie’s visual splendor, but their modifications to the text are more often than not respectful. After the gruesome monster Grendel (snarled by Crispin Glover) wreaks havoc on the castle of King Hrothgar (Anthony Hopkins), the heroic (and boastful) Beowulf (Ray Winstone) arrives to save the day. Yet he finds himself not only having to confront Grendel but also the misshapen creature’s mother (Jolie) and, in the climactic pièce de résistance, a fierce dragon. Given the massive advances in 3D technology – and depending on the success of this picture – it’s possible that more and more movies will be presented in this format. Anyone up for Shortbus 2 in Digital 3D? ***
DAN IN REAL LIFE One look at the coming attraction preview for Dan In Real Life reveals that here’s a movie that’s going to try to milk audience emotions for all they’re worth. You’ll laugh! You’ll cry! You’ll sing! You’ll reflect! You’ll hug the moviegoer sitting next to you, even if he smells like an NFL wide receiver’s socks after a particularly grueling Sunday match-up! The trailer doesn’t lie: Dan In Real Life wants to offer it all – a fine sentiment when a movie can pull it off, an example of trying too hard when it doesn’t. This one falls somewhere in the middle: There are individual scenes that work nicely, even if the finished product doesn’t produce the flood of emotions one might have reasonably expected. Writer-director Peter Hedges soft-pedals this material, offering a warm and fuzzy tale of a popular newspaper writer (Steve Carell) whose column, “Dan In Real Life,” offers practical advice that he can’t seem to apply to his own life. A widower with three daughters, Dan travels to Rhode Island for the annual family get-together; he falls for Marie (Juliette Binoche), a Frenchwoman he meets in a book store, only to learn that she’s the girlfriend of his brother Mitch (Dane Cook). It’s nice to see this normal a family on screen, but the movie pays a price for its politeness, since there’s never any sense that feelings might be hurt or egos bruised – this is especially true at the conclusion, which basically ignores conflicts that have already been established in order to send everyone home smiling. Dan In Real Life is the equivalent of a warm glass of milk, and that’s meant neither as a compliment nor a criticism, merely a stated fact. **1/2
ENCHANTED It’s a nice touch having Julie Andrews serve as narrator in Walt Disney’s Enchanted. Andrews played the title nanny in the studio’s Mary Poppins, which contains the famous phrase “practically perfect in every way.” And I can’t think of a better way to describe Amy Adams’ performance as Giselle, the animated damsel who doesn’t long to be a real girl but becomes one anyway. This begins in the style of the classic Disney toon flicks of yore, with the beautiful Giselle, at one with nature and its furry inhabitants, longing for “true love’s kiss” from the lips of a handsome prince. She gets her wish when she meets Prince Edward, but his scheming stepmother, Queen Narissa, banishes Giselle to a faraway land, which, it turns out, is our own New York City. Now flesh and blood, Giselle turns to a stranger, a buttoned-up divorce lawyer (Patrick Dempsey), to help her survive in this bewildering city; meanwhile, others arrive in pursuit of Giselle, including Edward (James Marsden) and the evil Queen (Susan Sarandon). Entrusting such a rich premise to the writer of Sandra Bullock’s limp thriller Premonition is a dubious tactic, and Bill Kelly doesn’t come to exploiting this subject for all it’s worth. But that’s not to say there aren’t moments of genuine inspiration, such as when Giselle calls out to the creatures of NYC for help and instead of the expected rabbits, deer and chipmunks gets rats, roaches and flies. But what pushes the film over the top is the terrific turn by Adams, who really seems like a Disney heroine come to life (as the preening prince, Marsden also displays fine comic chops). Her performance is every bit as enchanting as one dreams it would be. **1/2
FRED CLAUS Does cynicism have a place in Yuletide flicks? Judging by the abysmal likes of Deck the Halls and Christmas With the Kranks, the answer is no. But sometimes a little spice can enhance a seasonal dish, and this joins Bad Santa and Scrooged as a way to avoid the pure sugar rush of treacle like The Santa Clause. A prologue establishes that Fred Claus grew up resenting the attention showered upon his younger brother Nicholas, who in time became known the world over as Santa Claus. Cut to the present day, and the adult Fred (Vince Vaughn), who has long broken off all family ties, is coerced into coming to the North Pole to help Santa (Paul Giamatti) with his annual gift-giving. But Fred’s presence prevents the operation from running smoothly, a problem since a dour efficiency expert (Kevin Spacey) is hoping for any excuse to fire Santa and move Xmas HQ to the South Pole. There are plenty of cringe-worthy moments in this overlong film, including the ill-conceived decision to cast normal-sized performers in the largest of the elf roles via digital wizardry (a slap to Peter Dinklage, Tony Cox and other accomplished dwarf actors). But Vaughn and Giamatti make a fine “odd couple” pairing, a stellar supporting cast (Spacey, Rachel Weisz, Kathy Bates, Miranda Richardson) lifts the proceedings, and Fogelman and director David Dobkin (Wedding Crashers) do manage to find the right mix of sweet and sour. To top it off, there’s a priceless sequence set at a Siblings Anonymous meeting which Fred attends; I won’t reveal the surprise cameos, but the personalities involved deserve some sort of Good Sport award at next year’s Oscars. **1/2
LARS AND THE REAL GIRL How is it even possible to make a PG-13 movie about a man and his plastic sex doll? To their (sort-of) credit, director Craig Gillespie and writer Nancy Oliver give it a shot by fashioning a gentle parable about an introvert whose relationship with said object is actually a cry for help – plus, it doesn’t hurt audience acceptance of the film (and the character) that he never uses the faux-female for what she was intended. In a performance that’s as calculating as it is sweet-natured, Ryan Gosling plays Lars, a shy man who cringes at the mere thought of interacting with other humans. Lars ends up purchasing a sex doll online, but rather than using her to satisfy God-given urges, he maintains a platonic relationship, escorting her all over town and introducing her to bewildered townsfolk as his Brazilian girlfriend Bianca. An often clumsy fable about the sting of loneliness and the welcome balm of selfless intervention, Lars and the Real Girl can’t quite manage a gimmick that’s well-suited for a short film but thin when stretched out over 105 minutes. **1/2
LIONS FOR LAMBS Say this for Hollywood: At least it’s trying to inject some semblance of sane debate into the Iraq War debacle. While the right-wing continues to think nothing about American soldiers being sent to Iraq to “get their heads blown off for the president’s amusement” (as Rep. Pete Stark accurately stated a few weeks ago before cowardly issuing an apology), filmmakers from the more sentient left are trying to wake the populace up to the evils of this insidious administration and add value to every life lost in this rich man’s war. But do their recruitment tools have to be so ineffectual? On the heels of Rendition comes Lions For Lambs, another drama whose noble aspirations are bungled by hamfisted storytelling. Working from a script by Matthew Michael Carnahan, director Robert Redford uses three concurrent tales to stir debate about what’s happening around us. The best finds a reporter (Meryl Streep) interviewing a Republican senator (Tom Cruise) on his strategy for winning the war on terror. In the second plot thread, which functions as little more than connective tissue between the other two tales, two soldiers (Michael Pena and Derek Luke) involved in the senator’s master plan find themselves stranded on a snowy mountaintop in Afghanistan with enemy combatants closing in fast. And in the third story arc, college professor Stephen Malley (Redford) urges a self-absorbed student (Andrew Garfield) to get off his complacent behind and take a stand on major issues. This part is too bald-faced and heavy-handed to be effective; Redford would have had more luck personally distributing get-out-the-vote pamphlets at movie theaters nationwide. **
MARTIAN CHILD The credits state that Martian Child stars John Cusack, Amanda Peet and Joan Cusack, but really, it stars Lucky Charms, M&M’s and Amazon.com. These are the top winners of the product placement contest – at least E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial employed Reese’s Pieces in an innovative manner that benefited its storyline. But Martian Child is no E.T., despite a plot that involves a being from another planet who just wants to go home. Or is Dennis (Bobby Coleman) merely an ordinary boy who only thinks he’s from another planet? Only God (or L. Ron Hubbard) knows for sure. At any rate, this is most like K-Pax, the atrocious 2001 release with Kevin Spacey as a mental patient who claims he’s from outer space. This isn’t nearly as noxious as that Chinese-water-torture of a movie, but that’s largely because few things are as frightening as watching Spacey attempt to be cuddly. Coleman’s Dennis eventually finds himself adopted by David Gordon (Cusack), a widower who senses he and the boy might make a good match. Director Menno Meyjes ladles on the glop in this wannabe tearjerker, but the movie fails to connect precisely because Dennis never appears to be a real boy, human or otherwise: He’s merely a writer’s high-concept execution, a series of quirky traits that have coagulated to take on human form. Cusack is likable as always, and he’s especially engaging in his scenes opposite Amanda Peet (as his late wife’s best friend); viewers may find themselves wishing the pair had more scenes together. Of course, when the best parts of a movie called Martian Child are those that don’t involve the Martian child, then something’s definitely askew. **
NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN The Coen Brothers have always been known for genre-hopping, and their adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s novel smacks of both a contemporary Western and a crime thriller. But may I add the classification of monster movie to the mix? As I watched Javier Bardem’s seemingly unstoppable Anton Chigurh shuffle his way through the picture, killing left and right without remorse, I realized that it’s been a long time since I’ve seen such an unsettling creature on the screen. No Country for Old Men is a delirious drama that often echoes such classics as Psycho, Touch of Evil and Chinatown, not only in its intricate and unpredictable plot structure but also in its look at an immoral world in which chance and fate battle for the upper hand and in which evil is as tangible a presence as sticks and stones. Chigurh spends the film, set in 1980 Texas, on the trail of Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin), a cowboy who stumbles upon the aftermath of a drug deal gone wrong and walks away with $2 million in cash. The cat-and-mouse chase between Chigurh and Moss is enough to propel any standard narrative, yet tossed into the mix is Ed Tom Bell (Tommy Lee Jones), a weary sheriff who, baffled and deflated by the wickedness that has come to define his country, nevertheless trudges from crime scene to crime scene, hoping to save Moss and stop Chigurh. This isn’t the first great movie certain to have its ending criticized even by many who enjoyed the rest of the picture (Apocalypse Now also springs to mind), yet love it or hate it, accept it or debate it, it’s perhaps the only proper conclusion for a movie as uncompromising as this one. ****
SLEUTH Directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz (All About Eve) in his cinematic fare-thee-well, 1972’s Sleuth was a delicious adaptation of Anthony Shaffer’s stage hit (scripted by the playwright himself), with Laurence Olivier and Michael Caine trading verbal blows as, respectively, mystery writer Andrew Wyke and hairdresser Milo Tindle, the former peeved that the latter is having an affair with his wife. A critique on British class differences as well as a cinematic jigsaw puzzle, the credit for the movie’s success was shared equally by writer, director, stars and, crucially, production designer Ken Adam, who turned the Wyke mansion into a funhouse maze of eye-catching bric-a-brac. Working with writer Harold Pinter, director Kenneth Branagh has opted to remake Sleuth, this time with Caine in Olivier’s old role and Jude Law in Caine’s former part. But this new version isn’t lean and mean as much as it’s choppy (50 minutes shorter than the original) and mean-spirited. Whereas the ’72 Sleuth was informed by Adam’s elaborate set, so too does this new edition takes its cue from Tim Harvey’s vision for the Wyke home, which is all spare, sleek surfaces bathed in metallic colors. It’s easy on the eyes but also cold to the core, and a similar chill punctuates every moment of this poor remake. None of the plot twists enhance the story (especially a homosexual spin), and whereas Milo and (to a lesser degree) Andrew were sympathetic in the original, here we find Andrew barely tolerable and Milo outright odious. Sleuth is no longer a fun whodunnit; it’s been transformed into a baffling whatthehellweretheythinking? *1/2
OPENS FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 30:
ALL ABOUT US: Boris Kodjoe, Ruby Dee.
AWAKE: Hayden Christensen, Jessica Alba.
This article appears in Nov 28 – Dec 4, 2007.
