New Releases
BROKEN BRIDGES The first theatrical film produced by CMT (Country Music Television), Broken Bridges has no business playing in multiplexes, given that it basically warbles "made-for-TV" throughout its entire running time. In his feature film debut, country music star Toby Keith plays Bo Price, a -- you guessed it -- country music star who's fallen on hard times thanks to booze and bad memories. He returns to his tiny hometown at the same time as Angela Delton (Kelly Preston), the woman he impregnated and abandoned 16 years earlier. Hoping to start anew, Bo does his best to not only break down Angela's defenses but also those of Dixie (Lindsey Haun), the daughter he's meeting for the first time. Keith, who never changes expression over the course of this generic film (he remains as rigid as a bookcase), may receive top billing, but he's soundly trumped in his own star vehicle as Haun easily bests him in both the acting and singing departments. Willie Nelson makes a welcome appearance as himself, while Burt Reynolds, his face nearly as immobile as Keith's, grumbles endlessly as Angela's disapproving dad. Perhaps not since George Strait shut eyelids nationwide with 1992's Pure Country has C&W had it so bad on screen. *1/2
HOLLYWOODLAND Before Christopher Reeve and Brandon Routh, there was George Reeves. Kirk Alyn may have originated the role of Superman on screen in a pair of 1940s serials, but it was Reeves who was most identified with the part, thanks to the hit TV series that ran throughout much of the 1950s. But in 1959, Reeves apparently committed suicide, though speculation has always run rampant that the hulking actor was actually the victim of foul play. Hollywoodland is a fictionalized take on this theory, centering on a small-time detective (Adrien Brody) as he sets off to uncover the truth. Was Reeves (Ben Affleck) murdered by his opportunistic girlfriend (Robin Tunney), a gold digger who ran out of patience once she realized his career would never amount to more? By his older lover (Diane Lane), who feared she might be losing him for good? By his lover's husband (Bob Hoskins), a powerful studio executive known for tying up loose ends? Or, in the final analysis, did Reeves really pull the trigger himself? Hell if anyone knows for sure, and that includes the makers of this film, who trot out every conceivable scenario without ever committing to one. Still, that's hardly a flaw, as the open-endedness allows this handsome picture to tantalizingly jump back and forth between its colorful characters. The performances are uniformly fine -- Affleck has been a punching bag for so long that his solid work here will surprise many -- and the movie basks in its nostalgia-twinged visions of vintage LA. ***
Current Releases
THE ANT BULLY It used to be Oscar-bait productions that had no trouble snagging the A-listers. Now it's the kiddie flicks that have them lining up to sign on the dotted line. But the problem with the high-powered lineup on view here -- Julia Roberts, Nicolas Cage, Meryl Streep and Paul Giamatti -- is that it promises a viewing experience that never materializes. Writer-director John A. Davis' slender screenplay might have well been produced by a committee well-versed in mining the usual kid-friendly clichés. Forget comparisons to Antz or A Bug's Life (both superior to this): The Ant Bully, in which a little boy gets shrunk to ant size and learns all about friendship and teamwork from the busy little bugs, is indistinguishable from any other subpar toon flick that mixes bodily function gags with snooze-inducing "lessons" and believes it's being profound and inspirational. Alas, the only thing it inspired in me was a sudden urge to spray the screen with Raid. *1/2
THE DESCENT With rare exception, Hollywood has lost its ability to create memorable or meaningful horror flicks, which makes this British import all the more welcome. One of the finest terror tales in many a full moon, writer-director Neil Marshall's gory gem follows six outdoor enthusiasts -- all female -- as they embark on a spelunking expedition deep in the Appalachian mountains. The competitive Juno (Natalie Mendoza) leads the outfit while Sarah (Shauna Macdonald) tries to overcome a recent tragedy in her life; along with the others, they descend deep into a cavern that's frightening even before its cannibalistic occupants (who all look like Gollum's cousins) show up and start tearing into human flesh. The Descent is so expertly made that it more than holds its own as a full-throttle horror flick, yet it's Marshall's decision to provide it with a psychological bent that puts it firmly over the top. The film addresses guilt -- specifically, survivor's guilt -- in a welcome manner and imbues its protagonists with messy moral dilemmas that allow them to alternate between heroine and villain, survivor and victim, wallflower and warrior. It's just a shame they didn't keep the original British ending. ***1/2
THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA Meryl Streep deserves all the accolades she can stomach for her poison-dipped performance in this satisfying screen version of Lauren Weisberger's best-selling novel. As Miranda Priestley, the ice-cold and rock-hard editor of the fashion magazine Runway, Streep delivers a terrific comic performance, as rich as the ones she gave in Postcards from the Edge and the otherwise terrible She-Devil. But let's not undervalue the contribution of Anne Hathaway, who's just fine as Andy Sachs, a college grad whose cluelessness about the fashion industry proves to be a drawback in her stint as Miranda's worked-to-the-bone assistant. (Stanley Tucci and Emily Blunt, as Andy's cynical coworkers, likewise deserve kudos.) The film's peeks into the fashion world are amusing, and the script makes some salient points about the lengths to which a person will allow themselves to be humiliated simply to hold onto a job. Once the focus turns to Andy's crisis of conscience, the picture loses some of its bite. But not Meryl, whose ferocious work continues to take a sizable chunk out of the couture culture. ***
THE ILLUSIONIST Set in Austria, The Illusionist stars Edward Norton as Eisenheim, an enigmatic stage magician so skilled at his profession that the locals suspect he might actually possess otherworldly powers. One of the few skeptics is Crown Prince Leopold (Rufus Sewell), a cruel ruler who sets out to prove that Eisenheim is a fake. He enlists the aid of the corrupt Chief Inspector Uhl (Paul Giamatti), yet matters become more tangled when it's revealed that Leopold's fiancée (Jessica Biel) was once Eisenheim's childhood sweetheart. For a good while, The Illusionist is topflight entertainment, with its lush period setting, its assemblage of captivating magic tricks, and a delightful relationship between Eisenheim and Uhl, two men sharing a wary respect for each other (both Norton and Giamatti are excellent). But then the film makes the fatal mistake of morphing into a lackluster mystery, the type that's agonizingly easy to figure out even before its gears can really be placed in motion. **1/2
LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE In the rocker "We're a Happy Family," The Ramones present a dysfunctional family in which "Daddy's telling lies, Baby's eating flies, Mommy's on pills, Baby's got the chills." The clan at the center of this Sundance hit isn't much better off. But one thing brings the members together: the chance to support sweet, 7-year-old Olive (Abigail Breslin), who's been selected to compete in the "Little Miss Sunshine" beauty pageant in California. Essentially, this is yet another road picture about bickering family members, and if that sounds a bit too prefab (or at least a bit too RV), screenwriter Michael Arndt, his dialogue backed by an excellent ensemble cast (including Greg Kinnear, Toni Collette and Steve Carell), manages to adroitly mix up the expected comic shtick with moments of great clarity and insight. The movie climaxes as it surely must -- at the competition -- and Arndt and the husband-and-wife directing team of Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris sharpen their claws for this portion, allowing the characters to engage in a final act of flagrant punk defiance. Joey Ramone would have been proud. ***1/2
MONSTER HOUSE Young DJ realizes that something's not right with the creepy house directly across the street; suspecting it's possessed by an evil spirit, he sets out to uncover its secrets. At its best, this animated adventure harkens back to the fantasy flicks of the 1980s, movies in which innocent children leading sheltered suburban existences often had to cope with the supernatural terrors that lurked around every corner and often even under the bed -- it's no coincidence that the era's leading practitioners of this sort of unpretentious fun, Steven Spielberg and Robert Zemeckis, are executive producers on this new film. As with many of the 80s titles, there's more here than meets the eye, as what initially appears to be a straightforward haunted house tale morphs into a haunting tale about love, retribution and acceptance, complete with a backstory that's as affecting as it is unexpected. ***
PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN: DEAD MAN'S CHEST Those expecting amazing feats of derring-do won't be disappointed by this sequel to the 2003 smash. The effects-driven action scenes are clearly the picture's highlights, and they alone make this worth the price of admission. But while the first Pirates felt like both a self-contained movie and the theme park attraction on which it was based, this one just feels like a roller coaster ride, full of momentary thrills but leaving little in its wake except a sudden desire to rest for a minute. It isn't breathless as much as it grows tiresome, and it's especially depressing to see how little the characters have been allowed to evolve. The central thrust finds Captain Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp) tangling with the ghostly Davy Jones (Bill Nighy) in an effort to save his own soul from eternal damnation; it's possible that his scheme will require sacrificing his friends (Orlando Bloom and Keira Knightley), but that's a compromise the self-serving Jack can accept. The best fantasy tales are often the ones in which the special effects are subservient to the characters, not the other way around; still, this moves quick enough to keep most customers satisfied. **1/2
SNAKES ON A PLANE The never-ending marketing ploy was a bust, which now leaves us with just the movie itself (yes, there really was one buried beneath all the tissue-thin hype). Samuel L. Jackson stars as an FBI agent assigned to protect an eyewitness (Nathan Phillips) to a mob slaying; once the villains ascertain which flight they'll be taking to make that important court date, they manage to fill the aircraft with rattlesnakes, cobras, boa constrictors, vipers, pythons -- indeed, the only snake missing seems to be Snake Plissken. Director David Ellis and his three scripters have the title terrors chomp down on lips, eyes, breasts and even a penis, but given the overall lack of creativity invested in this project (even Jackson's highly publicized quip about the "motherfuckin' snakes" was pre-sold), it ultimately feels as rote and joyless as a typical slasher flick. For a more imaginative 2006 release that ably mixes R-rated horror and humor, check out the box office bust Slither, due on DVD October 24. **
TALLADEGA NIGHTS: THE BALLAD OF RICKY BOBBY Like Spam, energy drinks and the music of Yanni, Will Ferrell is one of those acquired tastes that satisfy devotees while perplexing everyone else. Yet even folks who weren't entertained by his 2004 starring vehicle Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy should dig this latest offering -- while it never reaches the giddy highs of last summer's premiere stupid-smart comedy, The 40-Year-Old Virgin, it's consistently pleasurable and offers a surprisingly steady stream of laugh-out-loud moments. Like Ron Burgundy, Ricky Bobby is also an egotistical, none-too-bright boor. "I piss excellence," he declares, and his standing as NASCAR's best driver certainly signals that he's excellent at something. But his strained relationship with his deadbeat dad (Gary Cole, delivering the film's shrewdest comic performance) and the arrival of a formidable opponent, a French homosexual race car driver (hilarious Sacha Baron Cohen), leads to his fall from grace and his subsequent (and humbled) climb back to the top. The Highlander quips alone are worth the ticket price. ***
TRUST THE MAN Even Julianne Moore's formidable talents can't compensate for the sheer wretchedness of this indie effort, about as bad as any major-studio item released this year. Moore plays Rebecca, a respected New York actress whose sex-crazed "house husband" Tom (David Duchovny) dallies with online porn and a luscious single mom (Dagmara Dominczyk) since his wife isn't willing to boff him twice a month, let alone his desired quota of twice a day. Meanwhile, Tobey (Billy Crudup), Rebecca's brother and Tom's best friend, is bummed because his girlfriend Elaine (Maggie Gyllenhaal) wants him to not only grow up (he's 36 but acts like he's 12) but also to father her child. Trust the Man is an artificial Big Apple production that's rotten to its core, with banal dialogue, loathsome characters (Tom and Tobey) and ludicrous scenarios assaulting us at every turn. Except for a grasping Crudup, the performers ably keep their heads above water, but what possessed them to sign up for this arduous tour of duty? Moore, at least, has an excuse: She's married to writer-director Bart Freundlich and couldn't exactly say no. *
WORLD TRADE CENTER The most startling thing about this 9/11 drama is that it's by far the least controversial movie Oliver Stone has ever made. There's practically nothing in the way of gonzo filmmaking, political commentary or outrageous acting -- instead, the entire film operates at a hushed level, its nobility standing tall in every frame. It's hard to find any trace of potentially incendiary material; it's also hard to get terribly excited over the final product. The picture focuses on the police officers (played by Nicolas Cage and Michael Pena) who would turn out to be two of the only 20 people rescued from the rubble of the Twin Towers. Stone and scripter Andrea Berloff manage several powerful moments, but the end result is still a movie that feels oddly impersonal. That's in striking contrast to United 93, the superb docudrama that provided audiences with a you-are-there immediacy. Every second of United 93 related in some way to the specific events of that day. On the other hand, replace these real-life characters with two fictional guys trapped in a collapsed building, and what you're left with is a 1970s-style TV movie-of-the-week, the sort that invariably starred the likes of Christopher George or Lee Majors. **1/2
YOU, ME AND DUPREE Inflicting pain -- both on its characters and on hapless audiences -- seems to be the play of the day as far as this cesspool of a movie is concerned. Owen Wilson plays Dupree, a slacker who's invited to stay with his best friend Carl (Matt Dillon) and Carl's new wife Molly (Kate Hudson). It takes about 10 seconds before he makes himself a nuisance -- stopping up the toilet, masturbating into Carl's socks and nearly setting the house on fire. This torturous comedy serves as the ultimate litmus test when it comes to one's tolerance of Wilson's patented surfer-boy routine: Effective when used in the service of a likable character, it's endlessly irritating when attached to a role as obnoxious as Dupree. A black-comedy specialist like Danny DeVito might have wrung some wicked laughs out of this material; the amateurs in charge here up the unpleasantness but fail to leaven it with any compensating humor. *
OPENS FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 8:
BROKEN BRIDGES: Toby Keith, Kelly Preston.
THE COVENANT: Steven Strait, Sebastian Stan.
HOLLYWOODLAND: Adrien Brody, Ben Affleck.
THE PROTECTOR: Tony Jaa, Nathan Jones.
