Current Releases
THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA: PRINCE CASPIAN This C.S. Lewis adaptation is darker than 2005's The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, which seems to be the path taken by many second installments in film franchises (The Empire Strikes Back, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, Back to the Future Part II, The Care Bears Movie II: A New Generation). In this one, the Pevensie kids – Peter (William Moseley), Susan (Anna Popplewell), Edmund (Skandar Keynes) and Lucy (Georgie Henley) – return to the magical land of Narnia, only to find a gloomy environment in which humans have taken over and all mystical creatures are hiding in the forests. Eventually, the woodland inhabitants, the Pevensie siblings and the dashing Prince Caspian (Ben Barnes) band forces to restore Narnia to its previous glory. A couple of familiar faces from the previous picture return, yet it's cast newcomer Peter Dinklage (The Station Agent) who walks away with this film; he's excellent as Trumpkin, a surly dwarf who aids the cause. As for the kids, this is clearly a case where girls rule while boys drool. Susan cuts a fierce figure as a warrior queen, while Lucy is allowed to establish the strongest bonds with the Narnians. On the other hand, the interesting Edmund is given too little to do, while Peter is only slightly less generic than fellow pretty-boy Caspian – whenever Peter and Caspian bicker, it's like watching the leaders of two feuding boy bands get in each other's faces. Overall, though, this is that rare sequel which improves upon the original; even the visual effects, shaky in the first film, are far more smoothly executed here. ***
THE FALL The Fall opens with the most striking title sequence I've seen in quite some time – it derives most of its power from composer Krishna Levy's gorgeous score and Colin Watkinson's evocative cinematography – and closes with a lovingly crafted tribute to the great stuntmen of the silent era. Unfortunately, everything in between these bookend sequences is a crock. A remake of a 1981 Bulgarian film named Yo Ho Ho, this is a visually sumptuous but emotionally hollow story about an injured stuntman (Lee Pace) who tries to coerce a fellow hospital patient – a little girl (Romanian newcomer Catinca Untaru) with a broken arm – into unwittingly helping him commit suicide. He does this by earning her friendship through the telling of a fairy tale that finds a diverse group of warriors teaming up to take down a villainous ruler (Daniel Caltagirone). Director Tarsem's first film, the Jennifer Lopez dud The Cell, was largely criticized for accomplishing little more than showing off its helmer's music-video background, yet that film looks as narratively complex as Chinatown when compared to this trite offering. Tarsem filmed his epic in well over a dozen countries, generating plenty of Frequent Flyer Miles for himself but offering nothing to audiences hoping for more than just visual extravagance. And while the fantasy yarn is deadening enough, even worse are the scenes involving young Untaru, whose ungainly performance and difficulty with the English language (subtitles would have been nice) conclusively demonstrate that not all children are natural actors. Making movies isn't child's play, and The Fall proves that in more ways than one. *1/2
INDIANA JONES AND THE KINGDOM OF THE CRYSTAL SKULL Let's try to put this in perspective, shall we? On the Scale of Cinematic Achievements, the eagerly awaited Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull places dead last among the four big-screen Indy adventures. Given the quality of its predecessors, however, that can hardly be construed as a smackdown. It's now 1957, and World War II has since been replaced by the Cold War, meaning that our intrepid archeologist-professor-swashbuckler (Harrison Ford) now has his hands full battling Commies instead of Nazis. The Russkies, led by a slinky ball of black-haired menace named Irina Spalko (Cate Blanchett), are after an object – a crystal skull, of course – that will aid them in their quest for world domination. Standing in their way is Indy and his gang – chiefly, old flame Marion Ravenwood (three cheers for the return of Raiders of the Lost Ark's Karen Allen) and a brash young greaser (Shia LaBeouf). Longtime fans of the series will find the references to past films delightful, and they'll similarly be pleased to find Spielberg once again at his most limber: The director hasn't made a film this light and carefree in a long time. The first two-thirds of the film are such a blast that it makes the final section – a CGI blowout low on thrills – feel like even more like a downer. But this is really about one character – and the actor who plays him. After frittering away the past 11 years in poor projects, the 65-year-old Ford again plays a role that fits him like a glove, and his enthusiasm and athleticism serve to further fuel our own glee for the project. ***
IRON MAN Given their general status as popcorn flicks heavier on the decadent calories than on the nutritional value, I'm always pleasantly surprised at how much care Hollywood studios take when it comes to casting their superheroes in franchise flicks. With Iron Man, Paramount settled on an actor who turned out to be both unexpected and just right: Robert Downey Jr. is excellent in the film, and it owes much of its success to him. Centering on the Marvel Comics character created back in 1963, Iron Man shows how swaggering, self-centered inventor and industrialist Tony Stark (Downey), the U.S. military's chief supplier of weapons of mass destruction, transforms into an armored superhero dedicated to fighting for peace (this is an even more liberal-minded superhero film than Batman Begins). Stark's difficulties while perfecting his Iron Man persona provide the movie with many of its most amusing moments, as do the interludes between Stark and his faithful right-hand woman Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow). Indeed, the expository material is so engaging that the climactic battle between Iron Man and a villain known as Iron Monger comes as a massive letdown: After adding such a personal touch to the proceedings – even in earlier scenes involving CGI work – director Jon Favreau turns in a chaotic action climax that could have been lifted from any soulless Jerry Bruckheimer endeavor. Still, even this last-inning letdown can't tarnish Iron Man's overall appeal. Just as Tony Stark needs a device to keep his heart pumping, Iron Man requires Downey's presence to keep the heart of this franchise alive. ***
THE LIFE BEFORE HER EYES The Life Before Her Eyes runs the risk of being dismissed as a crass and tasteless attempt to make an exploitative movie out of the rash of Columbine-style massacres, and the fact that it contains a cinematic sleight-of-hand more likely to be found in a glossy Hollywood thriller only adds further fuel to the fire. But in adapting Laura Kasischke's novel, director Vadim Perelman (House of Sand and Fog) and scripter Emil Stern refuse to be cowed by the material, and the result is a haunting drama of enormous power. Raleigh native Evan Rachel Wood (in the best performance of her still-burgeoning career) stars as Diana, a rebellious teenager who, along with her saintly best friend Maureen (Eva Amurri, equally excellent), gets trapped in the girls' bathroom by a disgruntled teenager who's systematically blowing away students and teachers alike. Cut to 15 years later, and the adult Diana (Uma Thurman) is still trying to cope with the events of that tragic day. As the movie moves back and forward through time, audiences are asked to keep pace with the narrative threads that point toward how all of this will end. And while doing so, they're also subjected to an affecting tale of wayward youth, as well as a somber meditation on how the choices we make will shape our perceptions, our actions and, ultimately, ourselves. That's a lot to ask moviegoers to absorb, but discerning viewers will find the experience worthwhile. Sadly, the film presently holds a dismal 22% approval rating on the Rotten Tomatoes critical community Web site. Just ignore the critics – in this case, we don't know what we're talking about. ***1/2
MADE OF HONOR When F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote, "There are no second acts in American lives," he couldn't possibly have predicted the career of Patrick Dempsey. Those of us reviewing films back in the late '80s/early '90s remember Dempsey as a talentless 20-something who regularly turned up in bombs like Run and Loverboy. Dempsey largely went away for a decade before unexpectedly striking gold with Grey's Anatomy. It must be said that middle age agrees with the 42-year-old Dempsey: As witnessed in Enchanted and now Made of Honor, he has settled into being a competent (if rather passive) romantic lead on the big screen. Unfortunately, those of us hoping for entertainment value beyond mere eye candy will be sorely left hanging with Made of Honor, the sort of romantic comedy that Hollywood spits out of the formula factory on a regular schedule. This cribs from the vastly superior My Best Friend's Wedding in its portrayal of two longtime pals – one male (Dempsey's womanizing Tom), one female (Michelle Monaghan's brainy Hannah) – who have always been afraid that sex and love would ruin their perfect camaraderie. But once Hannah goes to Scotland for six weeks, Tom realizes that she's been the right one all along; unfortunately, when she returns stateside, it's with a fiancé (Kevin McKidd) in tow. The screenplay by Deborah Kaplan, Harry Elfont (the team behind Surviving Christmas and The Flintstones in Viva Rock Vegas) and newbie Adam Sztykiel doesn't completely destroy a workable premise – the scribes are repeatedly bailed out by the likable cast – but comic desperation can be seen at alarmingly frequent intervals. **
SON OF RAMBOW With all four Rambo flicks recently hitting DVD in a lavish new box set, now's as good a time as any to check out this British coming-of-age yarn whose central premise is that a Sylvester Stallone actioner can influence budding filmmakers as much as any classic ever produced by Welles, Hitchcock or Lean. Set in a small English community in the 1980s, this sweet fable focuses on Lee Carter (Will Poulter), a mischievous lad who's always getting into trouble, and Will Proudfoot (Bill Milner), a quiet boy who belongs to a strict religious sect that forbids most contact with the outside world and its trappings (such as film and television). Lee bullies the naive Will into serving as the stuntman on the action film he's creating for the sake of a TV competition (Screen Test, an actual U.K. series back in the '70s and '80s); once Will watches First Blood, Lee's inspiration for his own film, his imagination is fired by this taboo medium and he throws himself wholeheartedly into the project. It all sounds a bit precious, but Poulter and especially Milner are such charismatic young performers that they inject Son of Rambow with some genuine poignancy (both boys lack father figures, to say nothing of friends) to go along with the expected comic shenanigans. And the word is that even Sly Stallone gave this film a blessing, marking one of the few times that the person involved with the likes of Judge Dredd and Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot has displayed a modicum of good taste. ***
SPEED RACER To complain about the excesses of Speed Racer would be like bitching that there are too many rib eyes kept on ice at your local steakhouse or that there are too many references to God in the Holy Bible. Anyone who ever watched the 1960s cartoon series should recall the frenetic pace, often blurry visuals and gaudy color schemes. In fact, those were the reasons kids tuned into the series in the first place; certainly, it wasn't to marvel at the flat characterizations or infantile dialogue. Still, while there's no denying the visual wizardry behind Speed Racer, visual wizardry is about all that the movie has going for it, and it's hard to rally the troops behind so chilly a leader. The basic plotline deals with earnest Speed Racer (Into the Wild's Emile Hirsch) attempting to bring down the corrupt dynasty that controls the racing industry, but for the most part, the narrative form as we know it often doesn't seem to exist in this film: The Wachowski Brothers (The Matrix) employ impressive CGI mixed with old-school techniques to create something of a mind meld – Peter Max by way of Andy Warhol by way of Dr. Seuss. Yet splashy colors and kinetic energy both have the ability to wear viewers down, especially when bombarding them for 135 minutes. Little children are sure to get antsy during this PG-rated confection, while adults need more subtext than a broad condemnation of rampant capitalism (the primary villain is cut from the same soiled cloth as today's odious, profit-driven CEOs). Faring best amidst all the razzle-dazzle are John Goodman as Speed's doughy dad and a scene-stealing chimp who deserves his own three-picture deal. **1/2
THE STRANGERS One of my cinematic pet peeves (and they are legion) is when a fellow scribe describes a motion picture as pointless. Despite the scarcity of story, or lack of depth among the characters, or general ineptitude on every level, the filmmakers had some sort of vision – some raison d'etre – for making their movie, and that alone means it has some sort of point. Now here comes The Strangers to test out my long-standing theory and risk turning me into a hypocrite. Is there a point to this anemic thriller in which a young couple (Liv Tyler and Scott Speedman) are terrorized in a secluded vacation home by three masked invaders? Maybe the point is to show how none of us are really safe from the evils of the outside world, even when we're in our own homes. That's a moldy premise that barely needs repeating: For starters, just the past two months alone have seen the theatrical release of Funny Games and the DVD release of the French import Them, both wielding identical plotlines. Or perhaps writer-director Bryan Bertino's only purpose was to scare the living hell out of audience members, a noble pursuit in this age of fright-free terror tales. But The Strangers isn't scary, only boring, and the final image shows that Bertino didn't even have the guts to follow the story to its logical end. His cop-out may not make the movie even more pointless, but it certainly makes it more insulting. *
THEN SHE FOUND ME Before Then She Found Me, it appeared that only two reactions to the soft-spoken Colin Firth were at all possible. Either audiences found him charming in that brooding sort of way (as did the legions of women who swooned over him in Bridget Jones's Diary and the miniseries Pride and Prejudice) or they found him on the dull side in that drowsy-Brit sort of way. But with this picture, Helen Hunt successfully turns Firth into something new: an annoyance. Firth delivers such an aggravating performance that you just want to separate him from his character and slap them both. Then again, everything about Hunt's directorial debut – she also co-wrote the script and served as one of the 13 producers – is similarly obnoxious, to say nothing of arch and artificial. Hunt stars as April Epner, an elementary school teacher who, at 39, is desperate to have a baby. Having been adopted, she's insistent on giving birth herself, a problem when her newly anointed husband Ben (Matthew Broderick, becoming less interesting all the time) abandons her. She does strike up a relationship with the dad (Firth) of one of her students, but even that romance is fraught with tension. Most of her troubles, however, come from the fact that her natural mother (Bette Midler) shows up after all these years hoping to get to know the daughter she gave up decades earlier. Hunt, an overrated actress (her Oscar for As Good As It Gets should be classified as a felony on the part of the Academy), directs as unimaginatively as she performs, which is to say in the traditionally limiting manner of the TV sitcom genre in which she garnered her fame and fortune. Midler tries to provide some lift, but she can't begin to dent the film's slipshod construction. *1/2
WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS When invited to join me at the press screening for What Happens In Vegas, a good friend declined, e-mailing, "I can only stand one Hollywood romantic comedy a year, and No Country for Old Men was it for me in '08." That quip's funnier than anything found in the actual movie, and 20th Century Fox would have done well to hire him to pen the film's screenplay. As it stands, this is the year's umpteenth assembly-line rom-com, although it's easier to take than most of its predecessors: It's less obnoxious than Fool's Gold, less forced than Made of Honor and less formulaic (well, by a sliver, anyway) than 27 Dresses. Cameron Diaz plays Joy, an ambitious Wall Street trader who's just been dumped by her fiancé (Jason Sudeikis); Ashton Kutcher is Jack, a slacker who's just been fired from the company business by his own dad (Treat Williams). They both decide to head to Vegas, where they meet, get drunk and wind up married. After sobering up, they realize they don't even like each other, so once they're back in New York, they try desperately to get a divorce; instead, the judge (Dennis Miller) sentences them to six months of marriage, requiring them to visit a counselor (Queen Latifah) weekly to monitor their progress. While the veterans in the cast are a welcome presence (especially Dennis Farina as Joy's boss), the couple's best friends are the same, nondescript group of dullards we usually get in movies like this. As for the leads, Diaz is typically winning, while Kutcher doesn't blend in with the furniture as much as usual. **
OPENS FRIDAY, JUNE 6:
KUNG FU PANDA: Animated; voices of Jack Black, Dustin Hoffman.
PRICELESS: Audrey Tautou, Gad Elmaleh.
YOU DON'T MESS WITH THE ZOHAN: Adam Sandler, John Turturro.
