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TROPIC THUNDER The opening salvo of Tropic Thunder reps perhaps the funniest 10 minutes I've encountered in a movie theater this year – that's good news in that it kicks the picture off on a high note and bad news in that it instantly raises concerns that the remaining 95 minutes won't come close to touching this raucous beginning. But the best news is that the movie manages to keep the laughs hurtling forward for its entire running time, no small feat in an era in which many comedies lose steam by the final reel. Ben Stiller stars as Tugg Speedman, a macho action star whose one attempt at an awards-bait title, the resounding flop Simple Jack, has largely derailed his career. Jack Black plays Jeff Portnoy, a comedian known for vulgar blockbusters (up next: The Fatties, Fart 2). And Robert Downey Jr. essays the role of Kirk Lazarus, a five-time Academy Award-winning actor. All three, plus rap star Alpa Chino (Brandon T. Jackson) and screen newcomer Kevin Sandusky (Jay Baruchel), are in Vietnam shooting the war movie to end all war movies. After finding themselves lost in the jungle, they become the targets of heavily armed locals who don't take kindly to what they mistakenly believe to be DEA agents searching for their heroin factory. Rude and crude, Tropic Thunder displays minimal mercy toward its targets, yet even its gross-out gags display a manic ingenuity far removed from the one-note crudeness found in your typical Will Ferrell vehicle. All the performances are inspired (including Tom Cruise in a change-of-pace part), yet top acting honors go to Downey, who between this and Iron Man is having a helluva summer. ***1/2
VICKY CRISTINA BARCELONA A menage a trois between the Olympic-worthy team of Scarlett Johansson, Javier Bardem and Penelope Cruz is one of the various expressions of intimacy found in Vicky Cristina Barcelona, but viewers shouldn't expect to see explicitness on the order of, say, Shortbus or Henry & June. After all, Woody Allen is the auteur, and he's always been more interested in exposing the intricacies of the heart than the pleasures of the flesh. Yet therein lies the major problem: He's basically told a tale that depends heavily on carnal knowledge, and the soft-pedaling of the harsher aspects make this feel, well, as if it were made by a 72-year-old filmmaker who's stepped outside his comfort zone. Johansson and Rebecca Hall play Americans vacationing in the Spanish city when they're propositioned by a sensual artist (Bardem) to join him for a weekend of wine and sex. Both women do succumb to his charms (albeit at different points), only to find matters growing more complicated once his fiery ex-wife (Cruz, stealing the show) re-enters his life. The movie stumbles over itself while bringing fresh life to several issues, among them the ability of one's artistic impulses to be awakened by a foreign culture; our need for familial security versus our desire for hedonistic experimentation; and the viewpoint that sex in itself need not be a shallow vice but rather a passageway into deeper understanding between people. The notions presented are worthy of discussion, but I just wish Allen had given them more of a chance to be heard. Instead, there's a reticence about the film that stops even the most interesting scenarios short. **1/2
OPENS WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 27:
TRAITOR: Don Cheadle, Guy Pearce.
OPENS FRIDAY, AUGUST 29:
BABYLON A.D.: Vin Diesel, Michelle Yeoh.
BAGHEAD: Greta Gerwig, Ross Partridge.
COLLEGE: Drake Bell, Kevin Covais.
DISASTER MOVIE: Carmen Electra, Tony Cox.
ELEGY: Ben Kingsley, Penelope Cruz.
MAN ON WIRE: Documentary.
