New Releases
THE FOOT FIST WAY Certainly, we here at CL want to promote and celebrate regional filmmaking whenever possible, but not at the expense of credibility. To be sure, somebody appreciated this low-budget comedy co-written by buddies Jody Hill (who also directed), Danny McBride and Ben Best (all products of the North Carolina School of the Arts), and that somebody would be Will Ferrell, who loved this film so much that his production company picked it up and he was able to secure national distribution for it. The star’s interest is hardly surprising, since The Foot Fist Way basically plays like a Will Ferrell vehicle without Will Ferrell. Here, the central man-child is Fred Simmons (McBride), a doltish Tae Kwon Do instructor who runs his own martial arts school in a Concord, N.C., strip mall. Fred is married to a slatternly wife (Mary Jane Bostic) prone to copying her bare boobs and butt on the office Xerox machine (and who gets off the script’s funniest line: “I was really drunk; like Myrtle Beach drunk”), and his misplaced self-esteem crumbles after she admits to giving her boss a hand job. Fred takes his aggression out on his students (most of whom are kids), and even his moment of triumph – getting a Tae Kwon Do champ-turned-B-movie-actor (Best) to visit his school – ends badly. Audience members satisfied with a comedy that offers a handful of ever-so-mild smiles will enjoy this, but anyone on the prowl for sharp satire or even a belly laugh or two will be sorely disappointed by a film whose smugness is never justified by its frat-house humor. *1/2
Current Releases
THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA: PRINCE CASPIAN This C.S. Lewis adaptation is darker than 2005’s The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, which seems to be the path taken by many second installments in film franchises (The Empire Strikes Back, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, Back to the Future Part II, The Care Bears Movie II: A New Generation). In this one, the Pevensie kids – Peter (William Moseley), Susan (Anna Popplewell), Edmund (Skandar Keynes) and Lucy (Georgie Henley) – return to the magical land of Narnia, only to find a gloomy environment in which humans have taken over and all mystical creatures are hiding in the forests. Eventually, the woodland inhabitants, the Pevensie siblings and the dashing Prince Caspian (Ben Barnes) band forces to restore Narnia to its previous glory. A couple of familiar faces from the previous picture return, yet it’s cast newcomer Peter Dinklage (The Station Agent) who walks away with this film; he’s excellent as Trumpkin, a surly dwarf who aids the cause. As for the kids, this is clearly a case where girls rule while boys drool. Susan cuts a fierce figure as a warrior queen, while Lucy is allowed to establish the strongest bonds with the Narnians. On the other hand, the interesting Edmund is given too little to do, while Peter is only slightly less generic than fellow pretty-boy Caspian – whenever Peter and Caspian bicker, it’s like watching the leaders of two feuding boy bands get in each other’s faces. Overall, though, this is that rare sequel which improves upon the original; even the visual effects, shaky in the first film, are far more smoothly executed here. ***
THE FALL The Fall opens with the most striking title sequence I’ve seen in quite some time – it derives most of its power from composer Krishna Levy’s gorgeous score and Colin Watkinson’s evocative cinematography – and closes with a lovingly crafted tribute to the great stuntmen of the silent era. Unfortunately, everything in between these bookend sequences is a crock. A remake of a 1981 Bulgarian film named Yo Ho Ho, this is a visually sumptuous but emotionally hollow story about an injured stuntman (Lee Pace) who tries to coerce a fellow hospital patient – a little girl (Romanian newcomer Catinca Untaru) with a broken arm – into unwittingly helping him commit suicide. He does this by earning her friendship through the telling of a fairy tale that finds a diverse group of warriors teaming up to take down a villainous ruler (Daniel Caltagirone). Director Tarsem’s first film, the Jennifer Lopez dud The Cell, was largely criticized for accomplishing little more than showing off its helmer’s music-video background, yet that film looks as narratively complex as Chinatown when compared to this trite offering. Tarsem filmed his epic in well over a dozen countries, generating plenty of Frequent Flyer Miles for himself but offering nothing to audiences hoping for more than just visual extravagance. And while the fantasy yarn is deadening enough, even worse are the scenes involving young Untaru, whose ungainly performance and difficulty with the English language (subtitles would have been nice) conclusively demonstrate that not all children are natural actors. Making movies isn’t child’s play, and The Fall proves that in more ways than one. *1/2
INDIANA JONES AND THE KINGDOM OF THE CRYSTAL SKULL Let’s try to put this in perspective, shall we? On the Scale of Cinematic Achievements, the eagerly awaited Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull places dead last among the four big-screen Indy adventures. Given the quality of its predecessors, however, that can hardly be construed as a smackdown. It’s now 1957, and World War II has since been replaced by the Cold War, meaning that our intrepid archeologist-professor-swashbuckler (Harrison Ford) now has his hands full battling Commies instead of Nazis. The Russkies, led by a slinky ball of black-haired menace named Irina Spalko (Cate Blanchett), are after an object – a crystal skull, of course – that will aid them in their quest for world domination. Standing in their way is Indy and his gang – chiefly, old flame Marion Ravenwood (three cheers for the return of Raiders of the Lost Ark‘s Karen Allen) and a brash young greaser (Shia LaBeouf). Longtime fans of the series will find the references to past films delightful, and they’ll similarly be pleased to find Spielberg once again at his most limber: The director hasn’t made a film this light and carefree in a long time. The first two-thirds of the film are such a blast that it makes the final section – a CGI blowout low on thrills – feel like even more like a downer. But this is really about one character – and the actor who plays him. After frittering away the past 11 years in poor projects, the 65-year-old Ford again plays a role that fits him like a glove, and his enthusiasm and athleticism serve to further fuel our own glee for the project. ***
KUNG FU PANDA Kung Fu Panda isn’t notable for what it is as much as it’s notable for what it isn’t. It isn’t obnoxious. It isn’t soulless. It isn’t packed to the rafters with potty humor. And it isn’t made solely for the ADD-afflicted. In short, it isn’t like the majority of today’s non-Pixar animated features. The narrative is strictly formulaic, but the delight is in how it wraps its familiar messages of acceptance and self-confidence in a provocative visual scheme that’s always pleasant to absorb. In that respect, it has more in common with Dr. Seuss than the dubiously titled Dr. Seuss’ Horton Hears a Who! Jack Black employs his patented schtick as an overweight panda who longs to become a martial arts expert, but it suits this story just fine. As the vicious snow leopard who seeks to claim the high-and-mighty title of Dragon Warrior, Deadwood‘s Ian McShane effectively provides guttural menace. And while the actors who provide the voices for the legendary martial arts outfit The Furious Five aren’t given enough to do (Angelina Jolie, Seth Rogen, David Cross, Lucy Liu and especially poor Jackie Chan are the victims), all is forgiven whenever the character of Master Shifu appears on screen. It’s a sizable part, meaning that we’re constantly treated to Dustin Hoffman’s quirky take on the role of a diminutive red panda who serves as mentor to the other animals. Hoffman has played a remarkable array of characters over his 41-year film career – Benjamin Braddock, Ratzo Rizzo, Dorothy Michaels, etc. – but I never thought he’d be tackling Mr. Miyagi. I was wrong. ***
PRICELESS The women of Sex and the City look as chaste as Mother Teresa when compared to Irene, the protagonist of this French comedy. Promoted by the studio as the modern-day counterpart to Breakfast at Tiffany‘s Holly Golightly (though the film itself evokes Ernst Lubitsch or Preston Sturges more than Blake Edwards), Irene (played by Audrey Tautou) floats around the French Riviera looking for wealthy men to pamper and provide for her. Her current suitor Jacques (Vernon Dobtcheff) has agreed to marry her, but out of boredom, she has a fling with a young millionaire named Jean (Gad Elmaleh). But it’s a case of mistaken identity: Jean is actually a bartender at the resort, and Irene is furious after Jacques dumps her and Jean (now unemployed for sleeping with a guest) is unable to provide for her. Hopelessly smitten, Jean remains in her orbit even after she lands another suitor (Jacques Spiesser), and once he finds himself the companion of an older woman (Marie-Christine Adam) who mistakes him for a gigolo, Irene softens and begins to teach this novice the rules of the game. The P.C. Patrol can feel free to tut-tut at the characters’ morals, but Priceless is such a charming romantic comedy in the fairy-tale vein (a la Pretty Woman) that any ill will would be seriously misplaced. After being drained of all personality for her role in The Da Vinci Code, Tautou regains her Amelie effervescence, while The Valet‘s Elmaleh again displays an easygoing rapport with his own comic intuitions. Add to this frothy mix some gorgeous shots of the French Riviera, and Priceless proves to be a steal at any cost. ***
SEX AND THE CITY Threatened fanboys on the Internet have been driven insane by the mere existence of this film (how dare anyone make a movie centering on women instead of superheroes or Sandler?), but anyone who’s ever bothered to watch the acclaimed HBO series realizes that it need not be the exclusive property of women and homosexuals. Certainly, with its frequent look at eye-popping fashions, it can qualify as female-oriented porn in the same way that Transformers hardware might cause erections in fanboys, but at its heart, the show was about the necessity of enduring friendships and how they can serve as an anchor in a roiling sea of emotional upheavals. In this sequel-of-sorts, Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) is preoccupied with her upcoming marriage to longtime beau Mr. Big (Chris Roth), Samantha (Kim Cattrall) valiantly resists the call of the penis as she tries to remain faithful to her boyfriend (Jason Lewis), Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) struggles with issues of infidelity as they relate to her husband (David Eigenberg), and Charlotte (Kristin Davis) is content with her life as a wife and mother. Superior to most of the year’s rom-coms, this works because its ability to mix real-world issues with reel-world fantasies provides it with both gravity and buoyancy. There are a few missteps – the new character of Louise, Carrie’s personal assistant, reveals that without any showstopping tunes to hide behind, Dreamgirls Oscar winner Jennifer Hudson might not possess an ounce of acting talent – but for the most part, this is likely to satisfy faithful followers of the show, and even select newbies should enjoy this break away from the season’s more clamorous offerings. ***
SON OF RAMBOW With all four Rambo flicks recently hitting DVD in a lavish new box set, now’s as good a time as any to check out this British coming-of-age yarn whose central premise is that a Sylvester Stallone actioner can influence budding filmmakers as much as any classic ever produced by Welles, Hitchcock or Lean. Set in a small English community in the 1980s, this sweet fable focuses on Lee Carter (Will Poulter), a mischievous lad who’s always getting into trouble, and Will Proudfoot (Bill Milner), a quiet boy who belongs to a strict religious sect that forbids most contact with the outside world and its trappings (such as film and television). Lee bullies the naive Will into serving as the stuntman on the action film he’s creating for the sake of a TV competition (Screen Test, an actual U.K. series back in the ’70s and ’80s); once Will watches First Blood, Lee’s inspiration for his own film, his imagination is fired by this taboo medium and he throws himself wholeheartedly into the project. It all sounds a bit precious, but Poulter and especially Milner are such charismatic young performers that they inject Son of Rambow with some genuine poignancy (both boys lack father figures, to say nothing of friends) to go along with the expected comic shenanigans. And the word is that even Sly Stallone gave this film a blessing, marking one of the few times that the person involved with the likes of Judge Dredd and Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot has displayed a modicum of good taste. ***
THE STRANGERS One of my cinematic pet peeves (and they are legion) is when a fellow scribe describes a motion picture as pointless. Despite the scarcity of story, or lack of depth among the characters, or general ineptitude on every level, the filmmakers had some sort of vision – some raison d’etre – for making their movie, and that alone means it has some sort of point. Now here comes The Strangers to test out my long-standing theory and risk turning me into a hypocrite. Is there a point to this anemic thriller in which a young couple (Liv Tyler and Scott Speedman) are terrorized in a secluded vacation home by three masked invaders? Maybe the point is to show how none of us are really safe from the evils of the outside world, even when we’re in our own homes. That’s a moldy premise that barely needs repeating: For starters, just the past two months alone have seen the theatrical release of Funny Games and the DVD release of the French import Them, both wielding identical plotlines. Or perhaps writer-director Bryan Bertino’s only purpose was to scare the living hell out of audience members, a noble pursuit in this age of fright-free terror tales. But The Strangers isn’t scary, only boring, and the final image shows that Bertino didn’t even have the guts to follow the story to its logical end. His cop-out may not make the movie even more pointless, but it certainly makes it more insulting. *
THEN SHE FOUND ME Before Then She Found Me, it appeared that only two reactions to the soft-spoken Colin Firth were at all possible. Either audiences found him charming in that brooding sort of way (as did the legions of women who swooned over him in Bridget Jones’s Diary and the miniseries Pride and Prejudice) or they found him on the dull side in that drowsy-Brit sort of way. But with this picture, Helen Hunt successfully turns Firth into something new: an annoyance. Firth delivers such an aggravating performance that you just want to separate him from his character and slap them both. Then again, everything about Hunt’s directorial debut – she also co-wrote the script and served as one of the 13 producers – is similarly obnoxious, to say nothing of arch and artificial. Hunt stars as April Epner, an elementary school teacher who, at 39, is desperate to have a baby. Having been adopted, she’s insistent on giving birth herself, a problem when her newly anointed husband Ben (Matthew Broderick, becoming less interesting all the time) abandons her. She does strike up a relationship with the dad (Firth) of one of her students, but even that romance is fraught with tension. Most of her troubles, however, come from the fact that her natural mother (Bette Midler) shows up after all these years hoping to get to know the daughter she gave up decades earlier. Hunt, an overrated actress (her Oscar for As Good As It Gets should be classified as a felony on the part of the Academy), directs as unimaginatively as she performs, which is to say in the traditionally limiting manner of the TV sitcom genre in which she garnered her fame and fortune. Midler tries to provide some lift, but she can’t begin to dent the film’s slipshod construction. *1/2
YOU DON’T MESS WITH THE ZOHAN It was Mae West who quipped, “When I’m good, I’m very, very good, but when I’m bad, I’m better.” This film inspires a bastardization of that quote: When it’s funny, it’s very, very funny, but when it’s bad, it’s downright awful. That’s a shame, because choice moments suggest that this could have been Adam Sandler’s best comedy – not a Herculean feat, by any means, but after a career littered with the likes of Big Daddy and Little Nicky, we’ll take what we can get. Sandler plays Zohan, an Israeli antiterrorist agent who tires of his violent lot in life and becomes a hair stylist in New York. As with most scattershot comedies, some gags score while others widely miss the mark. This one contains a greater success ratio than most Sandler flicks, but these humorous moments are still too few and far between, like Easter eggs hidden throughout a grassy field. Most of the time, we’re forced to contend with elements that drag down most Sandler comedies: puerile humor aimed at 10-year-old boys, “gay-panic”-inspired discussions of penis sizes, and Sandler regular Rob Schneider again demonstrating that he possesses the comic instincts of Dick “West Virginia” Cheney. The final half-hour is especially ghastly, and as for the various cameos, they represent one squandered opportunity after another. And what’s with the appearance of the wretched Mariah Carey? After watching her struggle through her agonizing scene, I was ready for Sandler to bring back the puerile penis jokes. **
OPENS FRIDAY, JUNE 20:
GET SMART: Steve Carell, Anne Hathaway, The Rock.
THE LOVE GURU: Mike Myers, Jessica Alba, Justin Timberlake.
STANDARD OPERATING PROCEDURE: Documentary.
This article appears in Jun 18-24, 2008.
