KANDAHAR The plotline is contrived, the performances (by non-professionals) are poor, and the dialogue is needlessly repetitive and frequently forced. Yet elements that would cripple most movies don't seem to matter much in Kandahar, an open wound of a film that offers a unique peek into modern-day Afghanistan (if that's not an oxymoron). Like Casablanca or The China Syndrome, this feature from director Mohsen Makhmalbaf unexpectedly benefited from fortuitous timing, making its stateside debut soon after 9/11 turned the Afghan city (and Taliban stronghold) into a familiar household word. The story centers on Nafas (Niloufar Pazira), an Afghan native who fled the country years earlier to start a new life in Canada; she returns to her homeland to rescue her sister, a paraplegic (her legs were blown off by a land mine) who has vowed to kill herself in a few days' time. Initially forced to pose as an elderly man's fourth wife in order to break into the country, Nafas soon finds herself continuing her journey on her own; along the way, she receives some much-needed assistance from an American doctor, an orphan boy and a one-armed peasant. The Taliban is rarely (if ever) mentioned by name, but the unadulterated evil impulses that rule the region are evident in almost every scene, from a woman helpfully explaining to little girls not to pick up a doll lest it has a land mine under it, to the decree that only males are allowed to attend school and receive a proper education. 
MURDER BY NUMBERS Drawing its inspiration from the infamous Leopold & Loeb murder case (the historically challenged should take care not to confuse this pair with Lerner & Loewe or even Kate & Leopold), this fitfully entertaining thriller casts Michael Pitt (the object of affection in Hedwig and the Angry Inch) and Ryan Gosling (The Believer) as two privileged high school seniors who elect to pull off the perfect murder. At first, everything goes according to plan, including pinning the crime on their school's janitor (Chris Penn), but the scheme threatens to unravel under the persistent sleuthing of a troubled detective (Sandra Bullock) lugging around her own set of secrets. Bullock, who's spent the bulk of her career in comedies, initially seems miscast as the hard-bitten cop but eventually grows into the role. Regardless, her portion of the film isn't nearly as interesting as the scenes centered around the teen killers: Pitt and Gosling are superb as completely different members of the high school set (one shy and studious, the other smarmy and outgoing) who nevertheless find common ground in their interest in exploring the criminal urge firsthand, and as long as the picture places them front and center, it avoids the standard "cop flick" trappings. 1/2
THE SCORPION KING In the ripe-cheese tradition of Conan the Barbarian, Kull the Conqueror and dozens of grade-Z sword-and-sorcery epics that invariably featured the hammy likes of Jack Palance or Richard Lynch as the sneering villain, we now get The Scorpion King, a made-on-the-run quickie meant to transform the wrestling world's The Rock into the latest Schwarzenegger model. A prequel to last year's The Mummy Returns (which itself was a sequel to 1999's The Mummy), this relates the back story of the villainous character played by The Rock in that blockbuster's prologue, showing how he once was a likable anti-hero, a mercenary with a soft spot for kids, camels and comely sorceresses. In this outing, he squares off against a ruthless Russell Crowe wanna-be (Steven Brand) and a duplicitous warrior (Peter Facinelli) who looks like Christian Bale and talks like Tom Cruise. You also get a shapely co-star (Kelly Hu) who wears just enough clothing to maintain a PG-13 rating, a slumming Oscar nominee (The Green Mile's Michael Clarke Duncan) as a fellow fighter, special effects that are often downright laughable (dig those goofy ants), and a monolith of a leading man whose undeniable screen presence constantly wages war against his wooden line delivery. Thanks to its awareness of its own limitations, The Scorpion King is watchable enough, but you'll be satisfied after an hour.
CURRENT RELEASES
BIG TROUBLE Scheduled for release 10 days after the 9/11 tragedy but instantly pulled due to a climax involving a bomb aboard a hijacked plane, this new comedy from director Barry Sonnenfeld (Men In Black, Get Shorty) is finally being released with the hope that audiences will now be more forgiving toward its more unfortunate plot points. It's possible, but what moviegoers won't be as quick to forgive is the simple fact that this is a spectacularly unfunny film, a dismal attempt by Sonnenfeld to recreate the rat-tat-tat patter and inspired casting that made Get Shorty such a smashing success. Alas, Sonnenfeld's instincts seem to have deserted him for this insufferable adaptation of Dave Barry's novel about how a mysterious suitcase ends up impacting the lives of roughly a dozen characters, including a mild-mannered single dad (Tim Allen), a miserable housewife (Rene Russo), and a hippie (Jason Lee) who lives in a tree. With screwball antics that are annoying rather than amusing, Big Trouble wears on the nerves as thoroughly as a hyperactive 5-year-old with a new drum set. Dennis Farina as a sarcastic hit man and Janeane Garofalo as a cool-centered police officer arguably come off best; Stanley Tucci as a seedy businessman and Tom Sizemore as a bumbling crook inarguably come off worst. 1/2
BLADE II With arteries being punctured left and right and vampires disintegrating after getting blasted by silver bullets, it's clear that Blade II may be as disreputable a genre film as recent entries Queen of the Damned and Resident Evil -- but it's also a helluva lot more fun. It also manages to top its 1998 predecessor, thanks in no small part to the decision to hire a real director (Guillermo Del Toro of Mimic and The Devil's Backbone) as opposed to the usual MTV-weaned hack. In this outing, the taciturn Blade (Wesley Snipes), a half-human, half-vampire renegade who's made it his mission to wipe out all bloodsuckers, finds himself reluctantly teaming up with his sworn enemies in an effort to take down an army of creatures (known as Reapers) who enjoy snacking on both humans and vampires. Snipes' Blade continues to rank as a rather dull superhero -- the character periodically takes serum injections to control his inner vampire, but he needs to consider switching to personality infusions -- but the action sequences have some bite, Kris Kristofferson adds some welcome sass as Blade's cantankerous mentor, and the Reapers (seemingly patterned after Reggie Nalder's grotesque vampire in the Salem's Lot mini-series) make formidable foes. 1/2
CHANGING LANES As first, it looks like it'll take a few minutes to figure out who's the good guy and who's the bad guy: After all, both protagonists -- a rising lawyer portrayed by Ben Affleck and an insurance salesman played by Samuel L. Jackson -- are initially revealed to be sensitive, caring men. But wait a second: If we're to believe the chaotic trailer and the grim poster, we're not settling in to watch a "buddy" flick; these men are primed to be enemies, meaning that, by Hollywood standards, one of them has to earn the brunt of our contempt. Instead, this turns out to be that rare bird: a studio product that largely steers clear of black and white by adorning itself in an appealing shade of gray. A traffic accident involving both men is what sets off a chain of events that finds them constantly trying to one-up each other in a dangerous game rife with long-reaching implications. Yet as the movie progresses, there's genuine push-pull tension not only between these two characters but also between our own constantly shifting allegiances, and the picture doesn't squander its chance to make a point about the need for people to take responsibility for their own actions in this modern world that's more about passing the buck of blame to the next fellow. Admittedly, the film requires a couple of leaps of logic, but for the most part, it refuses to pull its punches, and in this day and age, that qualifies as taking the road less travelled.
FRAILTY Turning a cold shoulder toward the sensationalist mindset that creates such dum-dum works as the current High Crimes, the dark, dank Frailty is a smartly woven chiller that takes its ideas and its characters very seriously. But all the good intentions in the world can't help a mystery that lays too many of its cards on the table too early, and it's this predictability that largely turns the film into a middling drama rather than a true shocker like Seven or The Others. Shot in constant darkness and steeped in religious allegory and philosophical overtones, this stars Bill Paxton (also making an assured directorial debut) as a widower who claims he's been visited by one of God's angels and instructed to rid the earth of demons that have taken human form. His 9-year-old son (Jeremy Sumpter) believes wholeheartedly in his father's killing spree, but his 12-year-old boy (Matt O'Leary) thinks Dad has lost his mind and attempts to stop him. This part of the film is presented in flashback, and it's good stuff, emerging as a nasty slice of American Gothic; the modern-day material, which finds one of the grown-up boys (played by Matthew McConaughey) relating the events to a skeptical FBI agent (Powers Boothe), dilutes the overall impact of the piece by providing too many clues that make it relatively easy to figure out where this is headed. 1/2
HIGH CRIMES Presumably, most screenwriters begin their drafts at the beginning of the story, but with this adaptation of Joseph Finder's novel about a lawyer who defends her husband on murder charges brought on by the military, it's obvious that scripters Yuri Zeltser and Cary Bickley headed straight for what they believed was a doozy of a twist ending and worked their way backwards. The problem, though, is that the climactic surprise doesn't even merit a raised eyebrow -- heck, the curve ball presented here is so transparent that I (and I suspect numerous others) pegged it by merely watching the film's preview. In short, don't expect this to place on any year-end "10 Best" lists, though if anybody gave out Truth In Advertising awards for movie titles, this one would be a lock. It's a high crime, for instance, that Ashley Judd, who burst out of the gate delivering formidable performances in indie gems like Ruby In Paradise and Smoke, is now content delivering the same spunky-woman-in- peril job in studio-sanctioned programmers like Kiss the Girls, Double Jeopardy and now this. It's a shame that Morgan Freeman, who's now routinely described as a genuine acting treasure, isn't finding more roles better suited to his awesome abilities. And it's a shame that, in the age of true mind-benders like Memento and The Usual Suspects, we're still force-fed heaping mounds of reheated pulp more adept at creating massive plotholes than at creating any semblance of suspense.
HUMAN NATURE File this one away under the heading "When Good Ideas Go Bad." Charlie Kaufman, whose script for Being John Malkovich was merely one of the most original pieces of writing seen in eons, returns with this unconventional comedy about an abnormally hirsute woman (Patricia Arquette) whose relationship with a repressed behaviorist (Tim Robbins) takes a radical spin once they come into contact with a wild man (Rhys Ifans) who's been raised since infancy by apes. As the behaviorist tries to implement the Eliza Doolittle Plan by turning the jungle creature into a gentleman of culture, it becomes obvious that his own character traits are positively beastly. Human Nature is a film full of potentially provocative notions, and it boasts a secret weapon in Ifans (best known as Hugh Grant's roommate in Notting Hill), whose turn as the ape man is a wondrous bit of physical comedy. Yet the cumbrous direction by former music video vet Michel Gondry and Kaufman's own half-realized ideas sink it from the start -- in fact, the quality of writing is so far beneath the level of the Malkovich piece, one quickly suspects Kaufman simply dusted off a pizza-stained screenplay he wrote back in his college days and handed it to studio reps under the guise of a spanking new script. When Human Nature is good -- and it has its inspired moments -- it's very good, but when it's bad -- which is most of the time -- it's intolerable. 1/2
LAST ORDERS During this year's Golden Globes ceremony, Ian McKellen joked that he represented the contingent of British actors who did not appear in Gosford Park. By that token, then, Last Orders would seem to represent the contingent of British actors who (with one exception) did not appear in Gosford Park, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone or Mr. McKellen's own year-end epic, The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. The stragglers have been rounded up and put to good use in this adaptation of Graham Swift's novel about the events that transpire upon the death of one member of a small group of friends. With the passing of the congenial butcher Jack Dodds (Michael Caine), his barroom buddies -- lucky gambler Ray (Bob Hoskins in a standout performance), good-natured undertaker Vic (Tom Courtenay) and feisty ex-boxer Lenny (David Hemmings) -- and his immediate family -- troubled wife Amy (Helen Mirren) and middle-aged son Vince (Ray Winstone) -- all reflect on their entwined pasts even as they carry out Jack's final wish to have his ashes scattered at sea. A bittersweet movie about the choices made -- and regrets felt -- during the course of one's lifetime, Last Orders may often seem slight, perhaps even meandering, yet its bracing approach and finely tuned cast allow its subtle sensations to linger on.
PANIC ROOM Just as Meryl Streep made The River Wild to satisfy the part of her that required one uncomplicated popcorn picture on her resume, we now have Jodie Foster taking part in a commonplace thriller by accepting a role that's less complex than usual. But Foster's participation isn't as puzzling as that of director David Fincher, who, after the jigsaw puzzle plots and moral messiness of Seven, The Game and Fight Club, seems only to be serving as a hack-for-hire. Still, his yen for technical trickery -- the opening credits alone are worth the price of admission -- suits the picture's primary setting, a spacious New York brownstone occupied by a divorcee (Foster) and her daughter (Kristen Stewart). When the two women find their home invaded by crooks (Forest Whitaker, Jared Leto and Dwight Yoakam) searching for hidden loot, they confine themselves to the building's panic room, an impenetrable space with a steel door and a wall of surveillance monitors. A couple of plot twists might have made all the difference in this watchable but routine thriller, though production designer Arthur Max (Gladiator) should be commended for his imaginative and accessible set. As a burglar with a heart of gold, Whitaker delivers the best performance but also provides the most problematic character, inadvertently turning the film's creed that "Crime Does Not Pay" into "Doing Good Deeds May Be Hazardous To Your Health." 1/2
THE ROOKIE This G-rated Disney film comes with the tagline "Based On A True Story," but I'd much rather start seeing a tagline that reads, "Based On A True Story That Translates Wonderfully To Film." As it stands, the tale at the center of The Rookie was a great one when it first appeared on the pages of the dailies, but as a motion picture, it's an overly familiar formula film that won't move anyone who's already seen their share of motivational, follow-your-dream flicks. What little juice this gets comes courtesy of its actors, particularly Dennis Quaid in the leading role of Jim Morris, a high school chemistry teacher and baseball coach who, a decade after what was ostensibly his prime, takes one last shot at achieving his goal of pitching in the major leagues. With John Lee Hancock providing the sleepy direction and Mike Rich supplying a script that's almost as generic as the one he penned for Finding Forrester, there isn't much sense of joy surrounding The Rookie, as a leisurely running time of 129 minutes and too many golden shots of Texas skies and fields (John Schwartzman's camerawork is pretty but predictable) also result in the movie taking an unusually long time to tell its straightforward story. Indeed, for a motion picture meant to inspire us, the perspiration comes through more often than the inspiration.
