NEW RELEASES
AFTER THE SUNSET As a celebration of the incomparable beauty of Salma Hayek, After the Sunset surely ranks as a four-star affair, lovingly photographing this earthbound Aphrodite as she sashays around the film’s tropical setting in any number of bikinis and low-cut gowns. Oglers of Pierce Brosnan should also find this a thumbs-up affair: While the retiring James Bond has apparently made the switch from martinis to milkshakes, he’s still dashing enough to provide the necessary yang to Hayek’s sensual yin. But beyond the eye candy represented by the stars and their sun-soaked surroundings, there’s little else that’s memorable about this disposable tissue of a movie — it’s the sort of familiar, formulaic fodder that, if a viewer watches only half of it on late-night cable, they’ll still wake up the next day convinced that they had caught the whole thing. Brosnan and Hayek play Max and Lola, lusty lovers who decide to retire to the Bahamas after successful careers as jewel thieves. Yet several factors impede their best-laid plan: their pursuit by an FBI agent (Woody Harrelson) who got burned by the couple during their last heist; the sudden arrival of a touring exhibit showcasing the priceless Napoleon diamond; and Max’s own restlessness, which dovetails with his desire for one final challenge. Don Cheadle’s talents are wasted in the underwritten role of a local hoodlum who wants Max to steal the diamond for him, while Harrelson’s overripe performance is the sort that a suddenly irrelevant actor delivers when he thinks he’s gotten a part that will catapult him back to the top. (Memo to Mr. Harrelson: This ain’t the one; better luck next time.) 
CURRENT RELEASES
ALFIE The 1966 version of Alfie is remembered for Michael Caine’s star-making performance as a callow bachelor whose womanizing ways catch up to him, and for a controversial scene involving an abortion. In contrast, this new version probably won’t be remembered as anything but one more unnecessary remake. And yet, as far as these things go, this one’s not bad at all. The setting has been curiously switched from London to New York, and Alfie’s escapades now seem almost tame in a nation that celebrates its sexual predators in film and on TV. Yet the key to this movie’s success rests in the central performance by Jude Law — this easily represents his best acting to date, and he’s aided by a supporting cast that includes Susan Sarandon, Marisa Tomei and Nia Long as various sack partners.
BRIDGET JONES: THE EDGE OF REASON This follow-up to the delightful Bridget Jones’s Diary is the laziest sort of sequel, lifting episodes wholesale from the original before spinning off in directions that don’t even begin to make sense. So even though the film opens where the original ended, with Bridget (Renee Zellweger) finding true love with lawyer Mark Darcy (Colin Firth), the writers create a series of unlikely conflicts between the couple, simply so they can rehash the same scenario where Bridget has to choose between Darcy and bad boy Daniel Cleaver (Hugh Grant). It all culminates with Bridget landing in a Thai prison, where she leads a chorus line of hookers in a sing-along to Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” — a ludicrous sequence that suggests there wasn’t enough cogent material to fashion a sequel in the first place.
THE GRUDGE Japanese director Takashi Shimizu helms the American remake of his wildly popular scarefest Ju-On: The Grudge, but even his participation isn’t enough to elevate this terror tale in any discernible manner. Sarah Michelle Gellar stars as an exchange student whose volunteer work takes her to a house that’s subject to a terrible curse, a manifestation of evil that spells doom for anybody who enters. Ju-On‘s success rested in its powerful atmosphere, the sense of dread that Shimizu instilled in virtually every frame. Yet that aura only presents itself sporadically in the Yankee Grudge, most notably when the director meticulously recreates the original film’s shock moments. The rest of the time, we’re stuck with sterile expository scenes, a repetitious framework and the spectacle of Gellar trying to emote.
I ♥ HUCKABEES Or, Being Charlie Kaufman, as writer-director David O. Russell tries to expand the parameters of mainstream cinema as much as the scripter of Being John Malkovich and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Yet while Russell’s movie doesn’t quite capture the freewheeling dementia of Kaufman’s output, it’s still a noteworthy effort, with enough engaging hi-jinks — not to mention a high-wattage cast — to distract us from the frequent fuzziness of its psychobabble involving a young man’s (Jason Schwartzman) search for the meaning of life. The passion with which the characters rail against their unbearable lightness of being is inspiring, and the uniformly fine cast (Dustin Hoffman, Naomi Watts, Jude Law, among others) provides shadings that otherwise might not have been there.
THE INCREDIBLES Writer-director Brad Bird refreshingly panders to no demographic, meaning that we’re left with a, well, incredible animated tale that’s more than just another superhero yarn. The bulk of the comic relief comes from costume designer Edna Mode, an Edith Head caricature voiced by Bird himself; the drama comes from the Incredibles, presented as the modern American family that’s expected to conform to the societal status quo (i.e., blend with the bland) rather than champion its own uniqueness. The domestic conflicts triggered by their suburban ennui give way to an acceptance of their individuality and, consequently, an ability to pool their resources as both crime fighters and family members. It’s emotional without being sticky-sweet, and just one of the reasons why this gem, for all its kid-friendly sops, feels like one of the most mature movies currently gracing theaters. 1/2
THE MOTORCYCLE DIARIES The seeds of social change are planted early on within Ernesto “Che” Guevara in this uncomplicated biopic that examines an early incident in the life of the iconic revolutionary. Because it focuses exclusively on a particular journey that the young Ernesto (Gael Garcia Bernal) takes across South America — whereupon he witnesses the suffering of others firsthand — the movie plays more like a humanist fable about one individual’s consciousness-raising than it does as a portrait of the controversial warrior-martyr. While this may smack some as a play-it-safe ploy by Salles, it also frees the picture from the shackles of expectation and allows it to blossom as a heartfelt paean to a formidable continent and its proud people.
THE POLAR EXPRESS When it comes to animated features, how human is too human? This expansion of Chris Van Allsburg’s children’s book takes it to the next level, using cutting-edge computer technology to place its characters within throwing distance of real life. Unfortunately, the result is rather creepy, with the “humans” coming off as slick automatons; just call this The Stepford Movie. Also call it dull, derivative, and lacking the sense of magic that informs all of the great Christmas flicks. A “Harry Potter meets Scrooge” hodgepodge enacted on a plateau of plasticity, this yarn about a train that takes doubting kids to meet Santa is distressingly flat. Many will hail it as a Christmas classic, but a better bet for seasonal cheer would be a screening of Santa Claus Conquers the Martians under the influence of heavily spiked eggnog.
RAY Just how good is Jamie Foxx’s central performance in Ray? Let’s just say that without him, this new biopic about music legend Ray Charles would possess only marginally more value than a film about Tiffany or The Village People. Director Taylor Hackford wastes a lot of time going over the same material, focusing largely on Ray’s drug use and womanizing ways yet ending the movie before we get to see the musician as humanitarian, as elder statesman, as soulful survivor. Still, it’s easy to overlook the flaws in the storytelling with Foxx commanding our attention in virtually every scene. Much more than Will Smith as Ali or Anthony Hopkins as Nixon, the actor loses himself so thoroughly in the role that it’s impossible to tell where Ray Charles ends and Jamie Foxx begins. It’s a real barn-burner of a performance, mesmerizing enough to keep Ray on my mind.
SAW In this age of cookie cutter thrillers, here’s one that, for better or worse (or a bit of both), stands apart from the pack. Two men, a doctor (Cary Elwes) and a photographer (Leigh Whannell, who co-wrote the script with director James Wan), find themselves the prisoners of a serial killer and must pool their resources if they hope to escape. As director, Wan needs to trust his instincts more — the rapid-speed camerawork and choppy editing occasionally on display prove to be pointless and distracting — and as writer, he and Whannell could have taken more care to plug up some gaping plot holes. Yet the unique setting adds some intrigue, and the twist ending should jolt the majority of moviegoers right out of their seats. 1/2
SURVIVING CHRISTMAS Last year, we got Bad Santa; this year, we get Bad Movie. Unlike the Billy Bob Thornton hit, which for the most part kept its dark heart pumping bile right through to the end, this misguided Yuletide farce tries to have it both ways by dribbling watery drops of black comedy into the more familiar foundation of eggnog-sweet sentimentality. The film gets into trouble the moment its feeble plotline is introduced: Wealthy Drew Latham (Ben Affleck) doesn’t want to spend Christmas alone, so he offers a suburban family $250,000 if they’ll just pretend to be his family for the holidays. Affleck’s character is so unbelievably obnoxious throughout the movie that when he’s made his miraculous transformation by the end, it’s hard to tell exactly how, when or why he had been redeemed. 1/2
This article appears in Nov 17-23, 2004.
