NEW RELEASES
BANDITS Director Barry Levinson’s latest tries hard to be a quirky
comedy (God, does it try), but the funniest moment in this criminally overlong
picture turns out to be a purely unintentional one. Kate Wheeler (Cate Blanchett),
a bored housewife who has hooked up with a pair of bank robbers known as “The
Sleepover Bandits,” is stunned when she hears one of the crooks (Bruce Willis)
mouth the words of the chorus from Bonnie Tyler’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart.”
“You know that song!” she bleats, as if that omniscient smash single were some
obscure Gregorian chant and they were the only two people in the world familiar
with it. Grab your chuckles where you can, because Bandits is such a
complete mess, even the prospect of seeing Willis and Billy Bob Thornton mix
it up fails to stir anything in the audience besides contempt. Like a squeaky
axle that won’t quiet down over the course of a 500-mile road trip, this grates
on the nerves almost from the start, when we realize that Thornton’s hypochondriac
character is going to spend the entire 125-minute running time whining about
his various ailments. Blanchett fares no better as the bargain basement screwball
heroine in love with both men, and, for that matter, neither does Jane Fonda’s
son Troy Garity as the gang’s thick-witted driver. Amazingly, even though he’s
cast opposite Thornton, Blanchett and a Fonda heir, it’s Willis who comes out
on top: Playing it closer to the vest, he at least provides a respite from all
the mannered acting smothering the rest of the picture.
1/2
MY FIRST MISTER Like Michael Caine in the 80s, teenaged Leelee Sobieski
has recently been appearing in movies left and right, following September’s
The Glass House with Joy Ride and now this drama from actress
Christine Lahti (making her feature film directing debut). One of those heartfelt
efforts that means well but plays lamely, this stars Sobieski as 17-year-old
Jennifer, a sullen teen who dresses in black, pierces practically every part
of her body, and hates her divorced parents (Carol Kane and John Goodman). Seeking
employment, she ends up working at a mall clothing store under the watchful
eye of Randall (Albert Brooks), a fussy 49-year-old man with no friends but
plenty of insecurities. After a rough start centered solely around a teen protagonist
who’s not terribly interesting (Jennifer’s a far cry from Thora Birch’s equally
wild child in Ghost World), My First Mister comes alive as it
explores the sometimes tense, sometimes tender, and always platonic relationship
that develops between these two loners. But rather than honestly explore how
such an unorthodox friendship might progress, screenwriter Jill Franklin cops
out by revealing that one of them has been diagnosed with a terminal illness
(but of course); this in turn leads to a climactic Hallmark moment that cracks
our suspension of disbelief wide open. Sobieski is too wholesome (at least on
screen) to be convincing as a miserable kid prone to self-mutilation, but Brooks
is excellent as the emotionally cloistered older man.
CURRENT RELEASES
DON’T SAY A WORD Gary Fleder directed the 1997 Morgan Freeman thriller
Kiss the Girls, but for whatever reason, he wasn’t involved with last
spring’s follow-up Along Came a Spider, about the search for a kidnapped
girl. Perhaps suffering from franchise envy, Fleder opted to put his name on
Don’t Say a Word, which, oddly enough, also involves the kidnapping of
a little girl. In short, Fleder was screwed from either direction with this
particular plotline, making one wonder if he should have tried for a generic
Disney comedy instead. Word doesn’t have quite as many plotholes as Spider,
but it also doesn’t have Freeman’s stabilizing presence. Instead, its marquee
draw is Michael Douglas, who seems utterly bored with this particular project.
He plays Dr. Nathan Conrad, a New York psychiatrist whose daughter is snatched
by crooks whose defining trait is that they don’t have a single defining trait
between them. The good doctor learns that the only way he’ll get his daughter
back is by extracting valuable information from the mind of one of his patients
(Brittany Murphy), a catatonic woman with a murky past. Murphy’s disturbed character
is the most interesting one in the film, and this might have worked had it bothered
to treat her as more than just an occasional plot device. As it stands, this
boils down to routine police procedurals (stretch), cars speeding through city
streets (yawn), and Douglas trading climactic blows with the baddies (zzzzzz).
GHOST WORLD Terry Zwigoff, whose movie about cartoonist R. Crumb (Crumb)
stands as one of the best documentaries of modern times, makes his fictional
film debut with this adaptation of Daniel Clowes’ underground comic book. Although
the picture is probably destined for cult status, its art-house encapsulation
may prevent it from achieving its proper due as a new generational touchstone
for disaffected teens and young adults everywhere. Certainly, the character
that Zwigoff and Clowes place at the center of this razor-sharp satire is a
familiar one to anyone who’s ever set foot in a high school hallway. Enid (Thora
Birch), an outsider and damn proud of it, wears her disdain for the civilized
world on her sleeve, and she and her best friend Rebecca (Scarlett Johansson)
spend most of their time not experiencing their own lives as much as wryly commenting
on everyone else’s. Whether you love or loathe this type of person in real life
doesn’t really matter, since it’s Enid’s universal vulnerability that ultimately
wins us to her cause. In many respects, she’s no different than James Dean’s
Jim Stark in Rebel Without a Cause or Dustin Hoffman’s Benjamin Braddock
in The Graduate good kids who want to move forward but whose failure
to communicate perpetually keeps their lives in idle. Ghost World is
very funny but also very perceptive, and it offers Steve Buscemi one of the
defining roles of his career as a lonely guy whose very cluelessness makes him
cool in Enid’s eyes.
1/2
GLITTER Or, A Star Is Stillborn. If there’s one positive thing
to say about Glitter (and believe me, there really is only one), it’s
that, unlike their overreacting peers, its makers elected to keep the fleeting
shots of the World Trade Center in the picture. The current rush to erase the
buildings’ presence in all modes of entertainment is just plain wrong: Besides
chalking one up for the terrorists, it dishonors the memory of not only the
victims but also of the architectural wonders themselves. Glitter made
me glad to see there were some folks who didn’t go along with this questionable
edict (my belief that people want to see the twin towers was validated by New
York Times critic Lawrence Van Gelder, who, in his Glitter review,
wrote that “the only sight that aroused the [audience] to applause was the World
Trade Center”). But aside from offering shots of the WTC, there’s absolutely
nothing of interest in a vanity piece so self-absorbed, it makes Prince’s Under
the Cherry Moon look like a model of modesty and restraint. Mariah Carey,
displaying all the acting ability of a chia pet, stars as Billie Frank, who
goes from being a struggling back-up singer to landing a major label contract,
putting out a hit album, recording music videos and attending awards shows
all within a span of about six months! Drained of all vitality and refusing
to embrace a single original notion, Glitter does offer several unintentionally
funny moments enough, anyway, to make it a future camp classic.
HEDWIG AND THE ANGRY INCH Contrary to popular belief, comparing the
cinematic version of Hedwig and the Angry Inch to the legendary Rocky
Horror Picture Show (as many have been prone to do) does the new film no
favors. Yes, Rocky Horror may be instantly recognizable even beyond the
pop culture crowd, but while it may be an excellent midnight movie, it’s
only so-so as a movie movie away from all the festivities, it
provides for a rather, umm, rocky viewing experience (try watching it at home
alone if you don’t believe me). Hedwig, on the other hand, is a triumph
no matter when or where it’s shown. Billed as a “post-punk neo-glam rock musical,”
this adaptation of the 1998 Off-Broadway hit has enough surface kitsch to dazzle
the senses, but it’s also an unexpectedly poignant tale of one individual’s
journey toward becoming a complete person. Writer-director John Cameron Mitchell
plays the role of Hedwig, a rock star wanna-be resentful not only of the botched
sex change operation that left her with the titular “angry inch,” but also of
her former boyfriend (Michael Pitt), who stole her songs and rode them all the
way to fame and fortune. Powered by catchy, soaring rock anthems modeled after
the Ziggy Stardust era, Hedwig, like Moulin Rouge before it, serves
as a modern reminder of the ability of music to convey emotions when mere words
won’t do. Yet this isn’t merely a vamp’n’tramp show; instead, Mitchell’s performance
as Hedwig is about as fully realized as any you’ll see this year.
1/2
IRON MONKEY Miramax Films head Harvey Weinstein, reportedly upset that
his studio didn’t land Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, has been busy
dusting off older martial arts flicks from Asia and releasing them theatrically
in the US. The latest revival is Iron Monkey, a 1993 yarn whose director
(Yuen Wo Ping) was responsible for the action choreography in Crouching Tiger and The Matrix. While lacking the epic grandeur of Tiger, this
one equals it in terms of its martial arts wizardry, showcasing some of the
most exhilarating action sequences I’ve seen this year. Iron Monkey is the alias
of a kindly doctor in a 19th century Chinese village who periodically dons a
mask and takes on the corrupt governor (James Wong) and his men. His chief ally
is his pretty assistant (Jean Wang), but he also receives unexpected help from
a travelling physician (Donnie Yen) and his young son (played by a girl, Tsang
Sze-Man). Iron Monkey has been repeatedly compared to the story of Robin
Hood, but if anything, it reminded me of Disney’s Zorro series from the
50s, right down to the comic relief provided by the town’s bumbling police chief.
Of course, the film’s true origins rest in the legend of Wong Fei-hong (seen
here as the little boy), a real-life hero whose (fictionalized) exploits also
fuel the plots of Once Upon a Time In China and The Legend of Drunken
Master. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen this film’s final battle, in
which combatants scuffle while perched on burning wood posts.
JOY RIDE Transcending its own limitations, Joy Ride, the sort
of film that would normally pop up as a routine TNT or USA cable offering, instead
emerges as a satisfying, hardcore thriller. Highly reminiscent of Steven Spielberg’s
Duel, this finds The Fast and the Furious‘ Paul Walker racking
up more miles behind the wheel as a college kid who’s travelling cross-country
with his potential sweetheart (Leelee Sobieki) and his ne’er-do-well brother
(Steve Zahn). The siblings decide to use their newly purchased CB radio (described
as “a prehistoric Internet”) to pull a prank on a trucker who goes by the handle
“Rusty Nail”; what they soon discover is that Rusty Nail is a psychopath who’ll
resort to anything even murder to pay back their practical joke.
With a smart script by Clay Tarver and J.J. Abrams, this is the rare genre film
to feature believable (and likable) kids as its protagonists rather than the
usual imbecilic youths who end up as slasher fodder. Certainly, the screenplay
contains a scattered number of plot inconsistencies, but the masterful direction
by John Dahl (The Last Seduction) builds the suspense so effectively
(the final half-hour may have you chewing your nails down to the cuticles) that
the movie largely bulldozes through its shortcomings. But couldn’t they have
come up with a better ending? It’s hard to imagine anyone will be satisfied
with this film’s final twist.
SERENDIPITY It’s the Christmas shopping season in New York, and Jonathan
(John Cusack) and Sara (Kate Beckinsale) accidentally meet when they both reach
for the same pair of gloves. They’re instantly attracted to each other, but
rather than follow through on their feelings (as Jonathan wants), Sara decides
to leave it to fate: If they’re meant to be together, they’ll eventually discover
the phone numbers they write down for each other and send out into the world
(he, on a five dollar bill; she, in a used book). Cut to several years later:
Although they’re both set to marry other people, they each decide to take one
last crack at finding the love that got away. The key question in any romantic
comedy is this: Do we want to see this pair together? Sadly, it didn’t matter
to me as far as this film was concerned. Jonathan is a real find what
woman wouldn’t want a guy this witty and romantic? but it was all but
impossible to take Sara seriously after she concocts the dopey scheme that sets
the plot in motion (just give him your phone number already!). And while the
audience’s attention is supposed to be on the happiness of the principals, my
mind kept drifting toward Jonathan’s fiancee (Bridget Moynahan), a likable woman
who, if Jonathan and Sara’s search proves successful, will end up humiliated
on her wedding day (no Happily Ever After for her, I suppose). It’s a shame
the picture’s very premise seems forced, because the performances are engaging
(Eugene Levy steals it as a terse salesman) and the dialogue extremely sharp.
1/2
TRAINING DAY What happens when an irresistible force meets an immovable
object? Or, to parlay this eternal conundrum into cinematic terms, what happens
when an amazingly versatile actor is forced to share screen time with a performer
so immobile, he makes the monolith from 2001: A Space Odyssey appear
as active as a sports bar on Super Bowl Sunday? The answers vary, of course,
but in this case, the happy result is that wooden Ethan Hawke was apparently
inspired to raise himself out of his career-long slumber and try to keep pace
with the extraordinary Denzel Washington. Indeed, the work by both actors is
what keeps us watching even after the movie surrounding them falls apart. Washington
is especially rivetting as Alonzo Harris, an LA narcotics officer who gives
rookie Jake Hoyt (Hawke) one day to see if he has what it takes to work under
his command. Jake is thrilled with the opportunity, but he soon realizes that
Alonzo’s methods, which usually involve bending or breaking the law, fly in
the face of his own idealism. Beyond the high-caliber performances, there’s
a delicious ambiguity in David Ayer’s screenplay that suggests Alonzo’s dirty
deeds might be the only way for a cop to survive on the streets. Unfortunately,
somebody connected with the film soon decided that moral uncertainty in a motion
picture doesn’t allow that popcorn to settle comfortably in the stomach, and
what started out as tantalizingly clouded eventually comes into dreary black
and white focus, turning the film into a fairly routine (not to mention contrived)
police shoot-’em-up.
1/2
ZOOLANDER After scoring big as part of the comic ensembles of There’s
Something About Mary and Meet the Parents, it seemed like a natural
progression for Ben Stiller’s first solo starring role to thrust him into the
stratosphere. Instead, Zoolander, which finds Stiller serving as actor,
director, co-writer and co-producer, turns out to be the most ragged comedy
of the bunch, a frequently timid spoof that’s surprisingly arid in between the
handful of genuinely splendid gags. Based on a skit created for the 1996 VH1/Vogue
Fashion Awards, this casts Stiller as Derek Zoolander, an imbecilic male
model who becomes involved in a conspiracy plot that explains why there are
no male models over the age of 30 (Logan’s Runway?). Zoolander himself
becomes the biggest patsy in this nefarious scheme, and it’s up a fellow model
(Owen Wilson) and a Time reporter (Christine Taylor, Stiller’s wife)
to help him bring down the villains. Throw your popcorn bag at the screen and
chances are you’ll hit a major star making a cameo appearance David Bowie,
Winona Ryder, Jon Voight, Fabio, the list goes on but all the glad-handing
between celebrities can’t disguise the fact that there’s not enough here to
sustain an entire movie (even one that clocks in at 90 minutes). Still, there
are some terrific bits scattered around (the gasoline scene is a riot), and
Stiller and Wilson are perfectly cast as supermodels so idiotic, they think
a bulimic is someone with the ability to read minds.
1/2
ALSO PLAYING
APOCALYPSE NOW REDUX Francis Coppola’s 1979 masterpiece, about one man’s
dangerous mission deep in the heart of the Vietnam War, returns to theaters
with 48 minutes of extra footage. The new material is a mixed bag, but it can’t
dilute the power of this must-see movie event, which, blessed with a new print,
looks and sounds better than ever.
THE GLASS HOUSE The press material plugs this as a “psychological thriller,”
a designation more likely to apply to a Tweety & Sylvester cartoon than to this
simpleminded melodrama about two orphans (Leelee Sobieski and Trevor Morgan)
victimized by the adults (Stellan Skarsgard and Diane Lane) who adopt them.
There’s no shortage of good actors on board, but they spend most of their time
stumbling into the script’s gaping plotholes.
GREENFINGERS A group of British convicts develop an interest in gardening
in this featherweight comedy loosely based on a true story. In true Hollywood
style, the criminals are about as threatening as the Backstreet Boys, but the
movie’s charms (including another solid turn by Croupier‘s Clive Owen)
nearly outweigh its narrative complacency.
1/2
HEARTS IN ATLANTIS A mysterious boarder (Anthony Hopkins) with a strange
power befriends a young boy (Anton Yelchin) in this gentle adaptation of Stephen
King’s bestseller. The tale’s supernatural angle feels jarring and intrusive,
but in addition to providing Hopkins with a formfitting role, the movie does
an exquisite job of conveying the flush’n’blush of childhood romance.
This article appears in Oct 17-23, 2001.
