NEW RELEASES
BIRTHDAY GIRL Birthday Girl is one of those movies that starts out so unexpectedly off-kilter, you can’t help but be disappointed once it turns stridently conventional. Ben Chaplin is merely average as John Buckingham, a British milquetoast who sends off for a Russian mail-order bride; he ends up with Nadia (Nicole Kidman), a willowy beauty who speaks no English, smokes non-stop, and works hard to satisfy her new husband’s sexual fetishes. Initially content, he soon finds matters going awry with the arrival of two of her countrymates (Amelie‘s Mathieu Kassovitz and Brotherhood of the Wolf‘s Vincent Cassel). This curio begins as an interesting study of how two dissimilar individuals tentatively break down various communication barriers, and, on the heels of her star turns in The Others and Moulin Rouge, Kidman again demonstrates that she had been living in Tom Cruise’s shadow for far too long. But after an initially intriguing set-up, the film tosses out a “surprise” plot twist that could be spotted from two continents away, and from there it dissolves into a soggy and illogical thriller. 
ROLLERBALL Hollywood has a fondness for remaking classics, but the more logical route might be to remake movies that weren’t particularly good the first time around — that way, there’s reams more room for improvement. Alas, one application of that theory gets shot to hell with Rollerball, as the mediocre 1975 original gets accorded a remake that’s infinitely worse than the earlier dud. Set in a future in which all violence has been outlawed except when played in the arena of a popular new sport, Norman Jewison’s ’75 model was stuffy and ponderous, only coming alive during the well-staged game sequences. This stupefying new version is a complete overhaul — Starship Troopers and Howards End have more in common with each other than this reworking does with the original — but somehow the changes have only made matters worse. By setting the tale in the present and stripping it of all sociopolitical context, this violent film plays like an incoherent, badly staged taping of one of those inane TV sports events like pro wrestling or the XFL. Loud, garish, and directed within an inch of its life by John McTiernan, this Rollerball Redux is probably preferable to the disco turkey Roller Boogie, though even that’s arguable.
CURRENT RELEASES
A BEAUTIFUL MIND Director Ron Howard’s never been known for taking a radical approach to cinema — even his best pictures have a stuffed-shirt quality about them — but in tackling the story of John Forbes Nash Jr., the math genius who suffered from schizophrenia but still won the Nobel Prize, Howard has loosened up enough to imbue the project with a jangled-nerve approach that allows us to feel like both observers and participants in Nash’s neverending struggles with his own mind. Russell Crowe is excellent as Nash, but almost as impressive is Jennifer Connelly, the raven-haired beauty who, after being dismissed over the past decade-plus as pin-up fodder, builds on last year’s Requiem for a Dream breakout with a touching performance as Nash’s strong-willed wife. (Another plus: A superb score by James Horner that never travels quite where we expect.) The film may play fast and loose with the facts — so what else is new in Hollywood? — but even sticklers for historical accuracy may have to grudgingly admire its efficiency. 1/2
BLACK HAWK DOWN This adaptation of Mark Bowen’s account of the 1993 military operation in Somalia that left several Americans dead is being given the Oscar push, but the truth is that the film adds precious little to the long line of war pictures that have come out of Hollywood over the last century — on the contrary, the movie seems to exist in a bubble, hermetically sealed off from the emotional pull that helped define most of the great war flicks. From the start, this fails to provide much historical or political context to its proceedings, yet even more detrimental is that none of the key contributors — director Ridley Scott, producer Jerry Bruckheimer or novice screenwriter Ken Nolan — deemed it important to place any stock in their cast of characters. Obviously, Scott et al wanted to recreate the wartime experience in all its shell-shocked urgency rather than fashion a more traditional (read: narrative-driven) movie, but Saving Private Ryan managed to accomplish both objectives without any compromises. Some familiar actors pop up here and there, but for the most part, the unflagging sound and fury make it impossible to identify or empathize with these characters as individuals, since their primary function seems to be to serve as an anonymous slab of American fortitude.
BROTHERHOOD OF THE WOLF Movies that adopt an everything-but-the-kitchen-sink approach are often maddening messes, but this French import is reminiscent of countless other films and yet still manages to retain its own swagger of originality. With a first half that plays like Sleepy Hollow, a second half that begs comparison to From Hell, and elements of Jaws, The Last of the Mohicans, The Company of Wolves and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon scattered throughout, this delirious experience covers most bases and makes at least a cursory stab at the few it misses. In 18th century France, a naturist/philosopher (Samuel Le Bihan) and his Iroquois companion (Mark Dacascos) are sent by the royal court to investigate a series of slayings in the French countryside. The creature responsible is reportedly a monstrous wolf, but as the pair investigate, they discover that several of the locals may know more about the affair than they’re admitting. This one’s got it all: martial arts, political intrigue, tender romance (between Le Bihan and Rosetta‘s Emilie Dequenne), steamy sex scenes (between Le Bihan and Malena‘s Monica Bellucci), and a snapping, snarling, bloodthirsty beast.
THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO Disney’s live-action films frequently have all the flavor of a Styrofoam cup (see Snow Dogs below), but occasionally the studio manages to deliver a robust retelling of a cherished classic. In the tradition of their winning 1994 take on The Jungle Book, this latest version of Alexandre Dumas’ novel is an old-fashioned crowd-pleaser that makes the most of its compelling storyline. Jim Caviezel, generally that most somnambular of actors, turns out to be a good choice to play Edmond Dantes, the good-hearted seaman who’s wrongly incarcerated for 13 years, escapes from prison, reinvents himself as a nobleman, and coldly seeks revenge on those who betrayed him. Memento‘s Guy Pearce is all snaky insouciance as Dantes’ former friend, while Traffic‘s Luiz Guzman is up to his usual scene-stealing ways as Dantes’ no-nonsense sidekick (though this modern man seems as out of place in this period setting as would an SUV). In this pumped-up era, it’s refreshing to come across an adventure tale that’s free of rapid-cut edits, a blaring modern score and Matrix-style action scenes. Savor it while you can.
I AM SAM Has there been a more shameless movie released over the past year than this wretchedly written melodrama? In the most blatant lunge at an Oscar since Al Pacino’s repugnant turn in Scent of a Woman, Sean Penn gives a cringe-inducing performance as a mentally challenged man who raises his daughter Lucy from birth until the age of seven (she’s played by Dakota Fanning, who’s so adorable she immediately melts away all traces of cool-eyed critical detachment). But at this age, Lucy’s intelligence level now matches that of her father, so here come the social workers to rip Lucy away and place her in foster care. Michelle Pfeiffer is quite good in the worst role of her career — the harried attorney who takes Sam’s case and becomes a better person simply by knowing him — and it’s her contribution, as well as those of a fine supporting cast (Dianne Wiest, Mary Steenburgen, Richard Schiff, Laura Dern), that prevents this from landing a bomb rating. A couple of years ago, Penn publicly criticized Nicolas Cage for selling out as a serious actor; now here he is, making a picture about as bad as any on Cage’s recent resume. There’s a saying about people in glass houses throwing stones; at this point, Penn might want to reinforce his walls with adamant. 1/2
MONSTER’S BALL Director Marc Forster and writers Will Rokos and Milo Addica are all relative newcomers on the film scene, and perhaps it’s this infusion of fresh blood that allows Monster’s Ball — one of the best films of 2001 — to transcend plot developments that might have come off badly had they been entrusted to veteran Hollywood filmmakers comfortable with smoothing out all the rough edges. A relentless downer akin to Affliction — albeit one with a few glimmers of hope shining through — this stars Billy Bob Thornton as Hank Grotowski, a corrections officer at a Georgia prison who tolerates his racist pop (Peter Boyle), loathes his sensitive son (Heath Ledger) and enters into a relationship with the widow (Halle Berry) of the Death Row inmate (Sean Combs) whose execution he oversaw. Monster’s Ball makes very few missteps as it navigates its characters through its raw scenarios, and the ending — both insightful and unexpected — is especially memorable. So, too, are the lead performances: Berry has never been better — frankly, I didn’t think she had this in her — while Thornton continues to demonstrate that he has few equals when it comes to playing ordinary joes. 1/2
THE MOTHMAN PROPHECIES Playing like a discarded X-Files episode yet based on a 1975 book by John A. Keel, this finds director Mark Pellington mining the same air of uneasiness that made his Arlington Road such a prickly treat. Yet while this new endeavor isn’t as tightly scripted as that earlier effort, it does demonstrate how good direction and convincing performances can goose a project that otherwise might find itself mired in hokum. Billing itself as “based on true events,” this stars Richard Gere as John Klein, an ace reporter and grieving widower who finds himself mysteriously drawn to a West Virginia town that’s been privy to various unexplained occurrences. With the help of the local sheriff (Laura Linney), Klein tries to piece the puzzle together, only to conclude that the town itself is headed for major disaster — and that his late wife (Debra Messing) may be trying to communicate with him from beyond the grave. Gere’s conviction and Pellington’s atmospherics count for a lot, but the repetitive nature of Richard Hatem’s script prevents the movie from ever reaching its full potential: The mystery doesn’t deepen as much as it keeps skating along the surface. 1/2
SNOW DOGS Stars often follow up their Oscar-winning performances with an embarrassment or two — take the case of Shirley MacLaine, whose first film after winning for Terms of Endearment was Cannonball Run II — but Jerry Maguire victor Cuba Gooding Jr. can’t seem to put the brakes on his career skid: This bow-wow is just the latest in a steady stream of turkeys that also includes What Dreams May Come, Rat Race and Pearl Harbor. Gooding’s a charismatic actor but also an unrepentant ham: I haven’t seen the art of shameless mugging endorsed this wholeheartedly since the heyday of Jerry Lewis (or possibly even Joe E. Brown). Here, he lets out screech after screech and takes pratfall after pratfall in a dorky Disney comedy about a Miami dentist who inherits an Alaskan snow dog team. With the notable exception of Babe, Hollywood’s FX wizards still haven’t mastered the technique of anthropomorphizing animals: As in last summer’s Cats & Dogs, seeing canines wink and talk is more creepy than cute, and the gnawing feeling is that these creatures would be more at home in an Omen sequel than a typically bland family film from Disney. 1/2
This article appears in Feb 15-21, 2002.
