NEW RELEASES
OUT OF TIME Denzel Washington is the marquee attraction, and Eva Mendes (2 Fast 2 Furious) and Sanaa Lathan (Brown Sugar) are the heavily promoted up-and-comers, but it’s the performance by unknown John Billingsley that will have everyone talking as they exit this otherwise negligible piece of pulp fiction. The film itself is a sloppily assembled variation on the sweat-inducing Kevin Costner hit No Way Out, with Washington cast as a small-town Florida police chief who comes to realize that all the evidence in a double homicide paints him as the murderer. Mendes plays his soon-to-be-ex-wife, who of course also happens to be the detective heading up the investigation, while Lathan co-stars as his mistress, a former high school sweetheart now married to an abusive hothead (Dean Cain). It’s always a treat to watch Washington ply his trade, but after a while, the predictability of the mystery — more obvious than the cons in Matchstick Men and on a par with the one in the upcoming Mystic River — coupled with the credibility-stretching circumstances regarding Washington’s situation render it dopey rather than deft. The sole fresh ingredient is Billingsley’s noteworthy turn as Washington’s wisecracking sidekick, a slovenly medical examiner whose faith in his chief never falters. 
CURRENT RELEASES
AMERICAN SPLENDOR Like Adaptation, this misfit movie about a misfit man draws its strength from its ability to play around with the very structure of the motion picture form. In relating the true-life tale of underground cartoonist Harvey Pekar (aptly played by Paul Giamatti), this piece cleverly whiplashes between using movie actors and using the real-life personalities; the inventiveness even extends to the visuals, as parts are animated and framed like comic strips. For all its audacity around the edges, though, the movie rarely offers anything more than Teflon pleasures; unlike the magnificent documentary Crumb, it’s content to stay on the surface, never digging deep in an attempt to examine the demons that drove Pekar’s life.
ANYTHING ELSE Given the dearth of working-order humor in most of Woody Allen’s recent pictures, it might be easy to oversell this new piece. But this is clearly Minor League Allen, perhaps even Little League Allen. Yet it’s also the closest the 67-year-old auteur has come in years to producing a consistently pleasing film. Part of the appeal is that the creep-out factor has been excised — namely, Allen’s tendency to cast himself as elderly nebbishes who prove to be sexually irresistible to young women. Allen is clearly in hands-off mode, relegating himself to a supporting role as a teacher who offers advice to an aspiring comedian (Jason Biggs) with an aloof girlfriend (Christina Ricci). Creaky in spots, but the cast is appealing and the one-liners work.
CABIN FEVER You know the routine: Five idiotic kids with sex and drugs on the brain hole up in a shack in the middle of nowhere (filming largely took place in North Carolina); after spending some time making fun of the inbred locals, they’re suddenly confronted with a terror that ends up picking them off one by one. In this case, it’s a disease (spread through water) that causes the victim’s flesh to peel off, eventually leaving only blood, bones and very toothy grimaces. Like the recent 28 Days Later, the film’s power derives not from its scare angle (which isn’t too fantastical in this era of SARS and AIDS) but from its depiction of the manner in which humans will turn on each other when their own survival is at stake. 1/2
COLD CREEK MANOR This weak thriller is like a dead-end street in a swanky neighborhood, offering some interesting glimpses along the way but ultimately leading nowhere. Dennis Quaid and Sharon Stone play an NYC couple who, tired of the big-city bustle, purchase a mansion out in the sticks. Once the previous owner (Stephen Dorff), a rube just released from prison, shows up, bad things start happening, and the family soon suspects that their new home may have once been host to tragic events. What Richard Jefferies’ script lacks in originality, it more than makes up for in gaping plotholes — hardly a fair trade-off. Director Mike Figgis also composed the score, which during the tense scenes sounds like a two-year-old incessantly banging on random piano keys.
DUPLEX In this often uproarious comedy, Ben Stiller and Drew Barrymore play a couple who believe they’ve found their dream house when they purchase a duplex in Brooklyn. They figure they can deal with the fact that they’ll be sharing their abode with a longtime rent-controlled tenant, a 90something-year-old Irish woman (Eileen Essel), but once this seemingly harmless lady turns their lives into a living hell, they decide that murdering her is the only viable option left. Director Danny DeVito and writers Larry Doyle (The Simpsons) and John Hamburg (Meet the Parents) ably milk this premise for all it’s worth — there are no dry spells in this comedy that’s in the style of such Ealing Studios classics as The Ladykillers.
THE FIGHTING TEMPTATIONS Cuba Gooding Jr., so animated a performer that he even appears to be overacting on this movie’s poster, plays a crafty New York ad executive who returns to his hometown of Montecarlo, GA, to attend the funeral of his beloved aunt. Before he can collect his inheritance, though, he must fulfill his aunt’s wish of steering the church choir to success in the prestigious Gospel Explosion. For the most part, the movie’s non-musical segments are painfully formulaic bits centering around Gooding’s wholly uninspired character, yet when the gospel tunes take center stage (which thankfully is often), the movie transcends its trite surroundings and emerges as a theater-shaking crowd-pleaser. 1/2
FREDDY VS. JASON Qualifying as both the 11th picture in the Friday the 13th series and the eighth entry in the Nightmare On Elm Street saga, this combines the two franchises in a manner that’s sure to make mutual devotees of the Police Academy and Rambo series green with envy. By virtue of its plot, which brings Freddy Krueger (Robert Englund) and Jason (Ken Kirzinger) together, this is a cut above most of the previous yarns, though there’s still plenty of time for routine kid-gutting before the climactic showdown. This final battle will probably satisfy gorehounds, though anybody who thinks the outcome will rule out any possibilities of yet another sequel has probably been living in their mom’s basement for too long. 1/2
LOST IN TRANSLATION In what may be the finest performance of his career, Bill Murray stars as Bob Harris, an American movie star who’s come to Tokyo to appear in a whiskey commercial. Initially, he appears to be suffering from jet lag, but it soon becomes apparent that this malaise isn’t temporary — on the contrary, Bob’s in a perpetual gloomy funk. He befriends a young American woman (Scarlett Johansson) staying at the swanky hotel, and they eventually form a special bond. A specialized movie for a specialized audience, director Sofia Coppola’s fabulous new film is one of those unique, introverted gems that either enfolds you with its generosity of spirit or leaves you cold. And filmgoers who complain about the artificiality of most American movies are especially encouraged to check it out — as is usually the case in the real world, this picture shows that there are no happy endings or sad endings, and, sometimes, there are no endings at all. Many people will call this film a slice of life. I call it a slice of heaven.
MATCHSTICK MEN Nicolas Cage, in full “Look at me, I’m acting!” mode, gets more endearing as the film progresses, playing a con artist whose medical malfunctions (he’s an obsessive-compulsive) threaten to get in the way of his chosen crime field. And matters become even more complicated once he discovers he has a teenage daughter (Alison Lohman) just as he and his partner (Sam Rockwell) are about to embark on a major swindle. This is the sort of film in which once the climactic twists are revealed (or guessed), viewers will play the film backward to see if all the puzzle pieces fit snugly. For the record, they don’t, but audiences will be reasonably entertained anyway. Lohman, so memorable in White Oleander, is equally impressive here. 1/2
ONCE UPON A TIME IN MEXICO A crushing disappointment, this final chapter in the “Mariachi” trilogy (after El Mariachi and Desperado) finds our guitar-swinging, gun-slinging hero (Antonio Banderas) crossing paths with a duplicitous CIA agent (Johnny Depp). So many storylines, so little time to get involved with any of them; the biggest casualty is Banderas, who seems like an extra in his own movie. And while Desperado may have been both bloody and cold-blooded, it contained enough pluses to allow us to turn a blind eye to its less savory elements. This time, there are no smoke screens — only bullets and bloodletting, uniting to provide a dour conclusion to a series that once upon a time offered something more than just gratuitous violence.
THE ORDER Weary travelers who need a place to stop for the night now have a choice: They can spend about $65 to stay in a decent motel or they can shell out eight bucks and crash in an auditorium playing The Order. Either way, their slumber won’t be interrupted. To be fair, this long-on-the-shelf release has an interesting premise, but the film burying it beneath layers of cobwebs is unremittingly dull. Heath Ledger plays a priest who comes into contact with The Sin Eater, an ancient being who absorbs the misdeeds of sinners so that they may enter the kingdom of God. The script posits that there’s only one Sin Eater left on the planet, but we all know that’s bull: Anybody who devours a Whopper or a Big Mac basically falls under this heading as well. 1/2
THE RUNDOWN Toward the film’s beginning, there’s a cameo by an A-list action star, who nods at The Rock as they pass each other in a bar. We get the drift: With most of our matinee heroes getting older, the baton must be passed, and why shouldn’t The Rock be included on the short list of newcomers primed for action flick supremacy? The wrestling superstar is no more immobile than, say, Schwarzenegger or Stallone, and he has enough innate charm to carry an undemanding picture. And this one is certainly undemanding, with The Rock cast as a debt collector who’s sent to Brazil to bring his employer’s brash son (Seann William Scott) back to the US. Peter Berg, as lousy a director as he was an actor, makes a jumble of the action scenes, but the film has its moments.
THE SCHOOL OF ROCK Director Richard Linklater’s previous credits include Waking Life and Dazed and Confused, while scripter Mike White’s resume contains The Good Girl and Chuck & Buck. These indie faves won’t ever be mistaken for multiplex blockbusters, yet here the pair have teamed up for this accessible comedy about a failed rock star (Jack Black) who lands a job as a substitute teacher at a posh private school, whereupon he begins teaching his buttoned-down fifth grade charges about the glories of rock & roll. It sounds like the sort of sanitized product that might star Eddie Murphy (Dokken Day Care?), yet what gives the movie any semblance of an edge is Black, whose relentless manic energy perfectly suits the project.
SECONDHAND LIONS Acting greats Robert Duvall and Michael Caine co-star as brothers Hub and Garth, two old coots who take their lonely nephew (Haley Joel Osment) under their wing and regale him with tales about their swashbuckling exploits from bygone years. A curious concoction that throws together Grumpy Old Men, Unstrung Heroes and The Man Who Would Be King (to name but three), this film may be all over the map, but at least it takes viewers to some interesting places. For that, credit writer-director Tim McCanlies, who knows which situations will allow his stars to shine the brightest. Reserve the highest praise, however, for Duvall and Caine, who effectively sell this iffy material.
THIRTEEN Raleigh native Evan Rachel Wood delivers a standout performance as Tracy, a smart, studious girl whose reckless new friend Evie (Nikki Reed, who co-wrote the script with director Catherine Hardwicke) introduces her to sex, drugs and other underage evils. More competently made than Larry Clark’s similar Kids, this explores the seamiest side of teenage life in grim, frightful detail, though Hardwicke doesn’t seem able to apply the brakes on any narrative situation: The movie piles on the tragedies so relentlessly that you half-expect the movie to climax with a tornado. Still, Wood’s performance is revelatory, and she’s matched by the always-terrific Holly Hunter as her suffering mom.
UNDER THE TUSCAN SUN In this loose adaptation of Frances Mayes’ memoir, Diane Lane is irresistible as our heroine, who, on the heels of a nasty divorce, heads to Italy for a vacation. There, she falls in love with the Tuscan countryside and on a whim purchases a dilapidated villa in need of dire restoration. Tuscan Sun largely plays out as one might expect, though the journey is so enjoyable that many audience members won’t mind being led down this familiar path once more. Lane’s heartfelt performance provides much-needed depth to her character’s plight, and the supporting players are a finely drawn bunch. A warm and luminous film, Tuscan Sun lets us hold onto summer for just a while longer.
UNDERWORLD It’s an irresistible premise: What if a centuries-spanning battle continues to be waged between vampires and werewolves, with the suave bloodsuckers living comfortably as aristocrats and the brutish lycanthropes relegated to dwelling beneath the city streets? It might have made for a good movie had cowriter-director Len Wiseman not insisted on shooting his picture as a direct rip-off of The Matrix. As it stands, this is a joyless exercise in “Gothic grunge,” with poor pacing, lackluster performances and a tendency to include as many gun battles as possible in its bloated 120 minutes. And why supernaturally endowed creatures of the night would even have to resort to using guns at every opportunity is one of the movie’s nerdier concepts. 1/2
This article appears in Oct 8-14, 2003.
