NEW RELEASES
BRINGING DOWN THE HOUSE For more years than I can count, Disney’s Touchstone arm has specialized in bland, toothless comedies (usually starring the likes of Jim Belushi or Martin Short) that are about as threatening as a dead Chihuahua. Love it or hate it, their latest work doesn’t allow for similar fence-sitting, not when the movies it brings to mind are Blazing Saddles, Stir Crazy and the collected oeuvre of the Farrelly Brothers. Racially charged in a manner that some will find offensive while others might consider envelope-pushing, this relates what happens when black ex-convict Charlene (Queen Latifah), insisting she was framed, forces whiter-than-white attorney Peter Sanderson (Steve Martin) to look over the case and try to clear her name. As they work together, sharp-witted Charlene must cope with a parade of wealthy bigots (Betty White, Joan Plowright, Missi Pyle) while stuffy Peter learns lessons in “cool” that allow him to bond with his kids and win back his ex-wife (Jean Smart). The story is utter nonsense, but what makes the film work are the terrific comic performances driving it: Martin hasn’t been this engaging in years; Queen Latifah is sexy, sassy, spirited and smart; and Eugene Levy, as a nerd who discovers his inner funk after falling for Charlene, continues to make the case (after Best In Show and American Pie) that he’s one of the best second bananas in modern movie comedy. 
TEARS OF THE SUN On the heels of Hart’s War, Bruce Willis returns to combat duty in this plodding drama that’s about as battle-fatigued as they come. A simplistic story about a heroic Navy SEAL (Willis) who disobeys orders by attempting to save the lives of Nigerian villagers marked for death by rebel extremists, the movie never strives to engage our senses in any pertinent manner — it’s as if the blueprint for the basic outline never left the development table, resulting in a picture that’s painted in wide swaths of soldier-boy posturing and pontificating. If anything, Tears of the Sun (a meaningless title, by the way) bears a resemblance to 1999’s Three Kings; it’s a comparison that does the new film no favors, seeing as how it studiously avoids the complex characterizations and morally muddled politics that drove that earlier film. Willis, a good actor on those rare occasions when he stirs himself out of his cinematic siestas, delivers a one-note performance that consists of grunts and squints — was Dolph Lundgren not available? Like the dreary screen version of Black Hawk Down, this movie may serve as a slick piece of propaganda (“Two Thumbs Up!” — Dubya & Powell), but it won’t satisfy anyone who prefers to be challenged by contemporary military movies.
CURRENT RELEASES
CHICAGO Not only for theater aficionados, this adaptation of the stage hit is a musical for people who don’t even like musicals, weaving its deliriously dark tale with enough cyanide-laced cynicism to win over moviegoers who wouldn’t know Oklahoma! from Oh! Calcutta! Director-choreographer Rob Marshall and Oscar-winning scripter Bill Condon (Gods & Monsters) keep the proceedings both lively and lacerating, and if, after years of overexposure, the story’s themes relating to the cult of celebrity have all the bite of a toothless gerbil, at least they’re presented in an irresistibly engaging fashion. Among other things, this knockout of a musical finds Catherine Zeta-Jones in her best screen work to date, Richard Gere putting forth his finest effort since An Officer and a Gentleman, and Renee Zellweger adding to her string of unassailable performances. Zellweger, that most Kewpie Doll of actresses, turns into Lethal Barbie as she handles the role of Roxie Hart, a starlet wanna-be in Prohibition-era Chicago who, like fellow singer-dancer Velma Kelly (Zeta-Jones), is behind bars for murder. Both women’s public images are carefully handled by slick lawyer Billy Flynn (Gere), and all three work the angles to ensure they each land on top. The actors’ exuberance and Marshall’s imaginative staging just might be enough to raise this once-revered genre from the dead. 1/2
DAREDEVIL In the introduction to the 1975 compendium Son of Origins of Marvel Comics, Stan Lee admitted that of all the superheroes he ever created (including Spider-Man and the X-Men), his favorite was the blind crimefighter who practiced law by day as attorney Matt Murdock and donned the red tights by night as Daredevil. Yet even though Lee himself makes a cameo appearance, I’d be hard-pressed to believe that Daredevil will emerge as his favorite Marvel movie. Like Green Lantern over at DC Comics, Daredevil has always been more a favorite of the cultists than the general population, and it’s a shame that this film version doesn’t honor that distinction by serving up something truly unique. Instead, this live-action epic, directed by Grumpy Old Men scripter Mark Steven Johnson, is all over the map — it’s by turns affecting, exciting, contemplative, heavy-handed, cheesy, and downright ludicrous. Ben Affleck fares better than expected, and he establishes a nice rapport with Alias star Jennifer Garner, cast as feisty love interest Elektra. And while Michael Clarke Duncan is serviceable as the imposing Kingpin, Colin Farrell (The Recruit) adopts the right manic tone to play the egocentric assassin Bullseye, and runs away with the film. But although there’s plenty to like in Daredevil, there’s almost as much to dismiss, including a heavy dependence on subpar CGI effects, reams of lead-footed dialogue, and a climactic showdown that’s about as exciting as a documentary on aglet production. 1/2
DARK BLUE James Ellroy wrote the novel L.A. Confidential while David Ayers penned the screenplay for Training Day; small wonder, then, that this collaborative effort between the pair gleefully snatches elements from both earlier works, placing a charismatic yet corrupt cop at the center of a drama in which the city of Los Angeles is set to explode. Using the LA riots of 1992 as the factual backdrop, the movie then proceeds to bog down in every by-the-book cop cliche known to man, resulting in a police procedural even more tired than the recent Narc. This one’s primary selling point is Kurt Russell, whose multi-faceted performance as a tainted cop at least keeps the film watchable. The rest of the line-up — Ving Rhames as an incorruptible officer, Lolita Davidovich as Russell’s unhappy wife, Scott Speedman as his wet-behind-the-ears partner — don’t fare nearly as well with their stock characters, although director Ron Shelton (Bull Durham) tries to keep matters moving swiftly enough so we don’t have to dwell on the thudding dialogue.
HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS Julia Roberts had her Pretty Woman, Sandra Bullock had her While You Were Sleeping, and, if it becomes a box office hit, Kate Hudson will have her How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days to turn her into America’s latest A-list sweetheart. Yes, she received an Oscar nomination for Almost Famous, but there’s always been something a little unformed about Hudson, who has failed to locate the same sort of sparkle that propelled mom Goldie Hawn to stardom back in the late 60s. But this one marks the first time that Hudson has been able to command the screen: She’s utterly winning as a women’s magazine columnist who, for the sake of a story on what females shouldn’t do when dating, hooks up with a guy with the intent of driving him away within…well, check the film’s title. She settles on a slick ad man (Matthew McConaughey), unaware that he’s made a bet that he can get any woman to fall in love with him within the same time period. For a film that wallows in the usual male-female stereotypes, this one’s surprisingly light on its feet, thanks in no small part to its well-matched leads. Alas, the third act follows the exact pattern as almost every other romantic comedy made today (most recently Two Weeks Notice and Maid In Manhattan): The deceptions become unearthed, the pair break up, some soul searching takes place, and bliss arrives after a madcap chase. Leave before this excruciating finale and you should have an OK time. 1/2
THE LIFE OF DAVID GALE An anti-death penalty screed disguised as a thriller, this one’s a complete mess, a movie so ineptly realized that it will doubtless anger viewers on both sides of the debate. It’s the sort of sanctimonious, holier-than-thou claptrap that gives liberalism (especially Hollywood liberalism) a bad name, yet what’s truly astounding is that the movie shoots itself not only in the foot but in the bleeding heart as well, offering a series of plot twists that undermine every point that director Alan Parker and debuting screenwriter Charles Randolph were trying to make. Kevin Spacey stars as the title character, a former college professor and capital punishment opponent in Texas who’s now on Death Row, set to be executed for the rape and murder of a fellow advocate (Laura Linney). Gale summons a news magazine reporter (Kate Winslet) to hear his story, maintaining his innocence and hoping that she’ll be able to unearth the real culprit. The incessant proselytizing (complete with obvious “symbolism”) is wearying enough, but, as stated above, what’s especially dumbfounding about this film is the manner in which Parker and Randolph weaken their own arguments by painting their heroes as irrational zealots who just might have deserved what was coming to them. With friends like these, who needs George W. Bush?
OLD SCHOOL Laugh-out-loud moments have become such a scarce commodity in most comedies these days — usually, filmgoers have to settle for a steady succession of smiles, with maybe a couple chortles thrown in — that it’s almost tempting to recommend a whole movie on the basis of one such instance of pure unbridled seat-shaking. Old School offers such a moment: It involves a concrete block, a long rope, and a part of the male anatomy that should in no way be involved with a concrete block and a long rope. It’s a wickedly funny bit in the best There’s Something About Mary tradition, and it’s just too bad that this otherwise lackluster picture doesn’t offer more sequences like this one. Not that it doesn’t try. It’s been a full quarter-century since National Lampoon’s Animal House set the standard for a certain brand of anarchic, T&A-fueled “slob” comedy, and here’s yet another challenger to the throne, casting Luke Wilson, Will Farrell and Vince Vaughn as three 30somethings who end up starting their own fraternity in an effort to tap back into the party-hardy attitude of their youth. This is basically a formless mishmash of Animal House, Back to School, PCU and other like-minded works, and it’s tolerable enough to just skate by with a “C” average.
SHANGHAI KNIGHTS If you’re gonna insist on making a formulaic sequel to a formulaic comedy, then this might be the way to go, by overstuffing it with so much nonsensical material that some of it is bound to charm through sheer willpower. Its 2000 predecessor, Shanghai Noon, ranked as one of the weaker “odd couple” comedies of late, with Jackie Chan and Owen Wilson going through the paces in a dull action romp set in the Old West. Knights is an improvement, with Chan and Wilson heading to London to solve the murder of Chan’s character’s father. The villains are uninteresting and the central plot thread is dopey, but it’s what’s around the edges that makes this painless entertainment. Writers Alfred Gough and Miles Millar find clever ways to incorporate historical figures into their storyline (best of all is the use of Sherlock Holmes creator Arthur Conan Doyle, winningly played here by Thomas Fisher), and they also pay tribute to practically every notable screen comedian this side of Cheech and Chong (Harold Lloyd, Charlie Chaplin and the Hope-Crosby team are among those honored). The anachronisms make Oliver Stone’s dramas seem like cinema verite documentaries by comparison, yet it’s perversely pleasurable to hear The Who’s “My Generation” and “Magic Bus” in a film that’s set in 1887. 1/2
OPENS FRIDAY:
Agent Cody Banks (Frankie Muniz, Hilary Duff).
The Hunted (Tommy Lee Jones, Benicio Del Toro).
Willard (Crispin Glover, R. Lee Ermey).
Home Theater
THREE COLORS TRILOGY (BLUE/WHITE/RED) Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy is shaping up to be an admirable exercise in interconnected cinema, but for a truly transcendent experiment in this vein, it’s hard to top Krzysztof Kieslowski’s dazzling trio from 1993-94, which used the French Tricolor as its inspiration. The late writer-director has fashioned three haunting meditations on the chance encounters, predestined situations and ironic twists that make up the human experience: Blue (my favorite) centers on a woman (Juliette Binoche in a knockout performance) who withdraws from life after her husband and daughter are killed in a car crash; White is a dark comic tale about a nerd (Zbigniew Zamachowski) who’s cruelly dumped by his beautiful wife (Julie Delpy); and Red (Oscar-nominated for direction, script and cinematography) finds a compassionate model (Irene Jacob) striking up a friendship with an elderly judge (Jean-Louis Trintignant). Each DVD comes packed with extra features. 1/2
THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL It says a lot about the stature of this 1951 drama that 20th Century Fox elected to make it the fifth release in its “Fox Studio Classics” DVD series. Long considered a touchstone in science fiction cinema, this stood apart from most of the other 50s sci-fi outings for many reasons: The respectful direction by Robert Wise (West Side Story); the sincere performance by Michael Rennie as the alien visitor Klaatu; a literate script by Edmund North that dared to push a message about peaceful co-existence during the time of the Red Scare; an effective score by Bernard Herrmann (Psycho); and the presence of the towering Gort, still one of the most memorable aliens ever put on screen. DVD extras include audio commentary by Wise and a making-of feature. 1/2
MOONLIGHT MILE/WHITE OLEANDER Here are a pair of 2002 releases that each contain a performance that should have earned a Best Supporting Actress Oscar nomination. In Moonlight Mile, it’s Ellen Pompeo’s unaffected turn as a bar owner who gets involved with a young man (Jake Gyllenhaal) whose fiancee recently died. Yes, Pompeo is good enough to steal the film from veterans Susan Sarandon, Dustin Hoffman and Holly Hunter. In White Oleander, it’s Michelle Pfeiffer who turns in award-caliber work, playing a strong-willed woman who kills her abusive boyfriend and then tries to keep controlling her teenage daughter (Alison Lohman) from prison. Lohman and Renee Zellweger (as a fragile foster mom) are excellent, but it’s Pfeiffer’s steely turn that haunts us throughout the picture. Both films:
This article appears in Mar 12-18, 2003.
