Page 4 of 11
FRIGHT NIGHT If you weren't around in 1985, the original Fright Night is worth a Netflix rental, thanks to its fleet-footed approach to the vampire genre and a lovely performance by Roddy McDowall as Peter Vincent, a late-night horror-show host who helps teenage hero Charley Brewster (William Ragsdale) defeat the bloodsucker (Chris Sarandon) who lives next door. The new souped-up version isn't bad as far as these needless remakes go: It's for the most part well cast, contains some slyly wicked scenes that equal anything in the original, and expands some of the characters in interesting ways. It's a shame, then, that the movie botches its version of Peter Vincent, and even more unfortunate that the third act is a furious mishmash of unsatisfying plot developments, unexceptional confrontations and, depending where and how it's viewed, 3-D blurriness. On the plus side, 22-year-old Anton Yelchin is believably conflicted as the teenage protagonist, Toni Collette nicely fleshes out her role as his mom (the part in the original was a nonentity), and Colin Farrell is aces as Jerry, the suave, sexy vampire who prefers tight T-shirts to billowy capes. Changing the setting to a Las Vegas suburb, where transient neighbors aren't as likely to be missed should Jerry elect to sup on one, is also an inspired move. Yet Peter Vincent (named in '85 as a tribute to horror legends Peter Cushing and Vincent Price) is no longer a poignant figure — a fading actor-host with nothing but memories — but has instead been reconfigured as a boozy Vegas magician (played by Doctor Who's David Tennant) who (insert eye roll here) sports a Batman-esque past that largely leads to the late-inning shenanigans. Given this character's British accent, flowing mane, boozy disposition and initial air of insouciance, it's a wonder they didn't bypass Tennant altogether and just send the limo to pluck Russell Brand off the Arthur set. **1/2
GREEN LANTERN Considering all the advance negative buzz that had been building with the steadiness and scariness of a Category 5 hurricane, Green Lantern isn't the catastrophe that had been foretold as far back as the Book of Revelation. To compare this effort to such truly abysmal efforts as Catwoman and Batman & Robin would merely be an exercise in misguided grandstanding; at the same time, the middling results suggest that, the excellence of X-Men: First Class notwithstanding, Hollywood might consider cooling it on the super-sagas for a while (fat chance) and seek inspiration from other types of comic characters. Little Lulu or Andy Capp, anyone? When all is said and done, Green Lantern is really no different than the film which kicked off this summer season: As with Thor, this one also features slick special effects, a likable (if vanilla-flavored) leading man and effective use of 3-D, but it likewise gets bogged down in protracted exposition and has trouble sorting out its cluttered screenplay. Ryan Reynolds stars as Hal Jordan, a test pilot who becomes the first human to become a member of the Green Lantern Corps, an intergalactic watchdog group tasked with protecting the universe. The preeminent threat at the moment is a fearsome entity known as Parallax; his agent of evil on earth is Hector Hammond (Peter Sarsgaard), a nerdy scientist who promptly becomes a telekinetic mutant with a bulbous, oozing head. Hal's battles with Parallax and Hector are ably handled by director Martin Campbell (Casino Royale), and they allow the FX crew to show off their hard work. But whenever the movie isn't moving at a fast and furious speed, the banality of the script takes center stage, and we're left with another costume caper that doesn't quite know what to do with itself whenever its characters aren't playing dress-up. **1/2
THE HANGOVER PART II If you're one of those who consider The Hangover the greatest comedy ever made, then this review might prove to be entirely useless, as The Hangover Part II stands a wonderful chance of earning your vote as the second greatest comedy ever made. Then again, it's entirely possible you might recognize the sheer laziness that defines this cash-grabbing sequel. It displays an alarming lack of originality and drive, in essence merely copying the exact same gags, scenarios and, unbelievably, occasional camera shots from the original. It isn't as mean-spirited or misogynistic as its predecessor, and there are a couple more chuckles, but otherwise, the only way future generations will be able to tell the pair apart is that one's set in Las Vegas while the other takes place in Bangkok. In this outing, Stu (Ed Helms, again the MVP among this motley crew) heads to Thailand to get married and takes buddies Phil (Bradley Cooper), Doug (Justin Bartha) and, with much reluctance, Alan (the perennially annoying Zach Galifianakis, simply not my cup of comedic tea) with him. It's deja vu all over again, as Phil, Stu and Alan party late and wake up the next morning with no idea of what transpired the night before. Stu has a tattoo on his face, his future brother-in-law (Mason Lee) is missing, and a cigarette-smoking monkey is hanging out in their hotel room. The effeminate Mr. Chow (Ken Jeong) returns from the first picture, and there's a cameo appearance (no prize for guessing who) by a celebrity who pops up to mangle the Chess piece "One Night In Bangkok." Those yearning for some summertime bawdiness at the movies would be well-advised to check out Bridesmaids instead, as any random scene in that picture is better than anything on display in The Hangover Part II. Besides, considering the high cost of tickets, dropping dough on that alternative expenditure means there will be less chance that you'll hate yourself in the morning. **
