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Tuesday, 15 August 2006 00:40 |
Wandering into "The Prince and the Pauper" territory by way of "Babe," this lifeless, talky, family-oriented feature never manages to rise to the occasion of its witty title, which actually was appropriated from a 1942 Merrie Melodies cartoon featuring Babbit and Castello.
Even the kiddies responsible for the original $75.3 million kitty likely will be consumed by restlessness this time around if the audibly unengaged reactions at a recent preview screening are of any indication.
The action, such as it is, moves to across the pond to England, where Garfield (again voiced by Bill Murray), accompanied by his live-action, dim-witted canine cohabitant Odie, follows his nice but dull facilitator (Breckin Meyer) to London, where he's planning to propose to his perky veterinarian girlfriend (Jennifer Love Hewitt).
In short order, Garfield manages to swap places with his doppelganger -- a pampered royal pet (voiced by Tim Curry) who has just inherited his master's castle, much to the distinct aggravation of the plotting Lord Dargis (a waste of Billy Connolly), who thought he had permanently taken care of the one obstacle blocking his rightful place in line.
Despite an official running time of 78 minutes, the sequel somehow feels twice that long, dragged ploddingly along the subordinate claws provided by incoming director Tim Hill ("Muppets From Space") and writers Joel Cohen and Alec Sokolow (the first "Garfield," "Cheaper by the Dozen").
While the inaugural installment at least had the benefit of Murray's sardonic way with a line reading, here his patented tossed-off dialogue has all the bite of soggy kibble.
Visually, even with all the advances in CG technology, the latest Garfield model succeeds in looking even creepier than its predecessor.
It is only during those "Babe"-inspired sequences involving a live-action grouping of animals on the estate (voiced by the likes of Bob Hoskins, Sharon Osbourne, Richard E. Grant and Rhys Ifans) that the picture offers a glimpse of something approaching amusement.
The rest of the time is occupied wondering why the ever-soulful Odie doesn't ditch the tiresome orange fur-ball once and for all and strike out on his own capable four feet.
Director: Tim Hill
Producer: John Davis
Screenwriters: Joel Cohen & Alec Sokolow
Based on the comic strip "Garfield" by: Jim Davis
Executive producers: Michele Imperato Stabile, Brian Manis
Director of photography: Peter Lyons Collister
Production designer: Tony Burrough
Editor: Peter S. Elliot
Costume designer: Francine Jamison-Tanchuck
Music: Christophe Beck
Cast:
Jon Arbuckle: Breckin Meyer
Liz: Jennifer Love Hewitt
Dargis: Billy Connolly
Voice of Garfield: Bill Murray
Smithee: Ian Abercrombie
Mr. Hobbs: Roger Rees |
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Tuesday, 15 August 2006 00:38 |
Set in the colorful world of Lucha Libre -- sort of the Mexican equivalent of WWE -- the deliberately off-kilter picture throws political correctness to the mat with abandon, but that unlikely will be much of a concern for its target demo.
Black takes on his most fully realized character to date as Nacho, the orphaned son of a Scandinavian missionary and a Mexican deacon (which would explain the wacky accent) who now is a cook in the monastery in which he was raised.
Tired of feeling put upon by the friars, Nacho finds relative respect by leading a double life as a masked luchador with plans to take his prize money to buy better food for the orphans which, in turn, would hopefully impress the lovely Sister Encarnacion (popular Mexican actress Ana de la Reguera).
Finding a worthy partner in the timid, skeletal Esqueleto (the hysterical Hector Jimenez), Nacho steps into the ring and puts his dream to the test opposite a succession of real-life luchadores including Ramses (Cesar Gonzalez aka Bronco) and, in the role of Satan's Helpers, the screeching midget duo of Filliberto Estrella Calderon and Gerson Virgen Lopez.
Given the comic talents involved, there might have been hopes for something more dynamic than the languid pacing and self-consciously quirky style found here, but those potential deficits prove to be part of the production's considerable charms.
Director Hess, who penned the script along with his wife and writing partner, Jerusha Hess and White, lends the film a fittingly eccentric look and feel with the assist of cinematographer Xavier Perez Grobet ("Before Night Falls"), production designer Gideon Ponte ("The Notorious Bettie Page"), and especially those wondrous Spandex creations of costume designer Graciela Mazon, a frequent Robert Rodriguez collaborator.
Filmed entirely on location in the southern Mexican state of Oaxaca, "Nacho Libre" makes effective use of both the local color and talent, especially in Jimenez, who has a knack for stealing attention away from the antics of his capable co-star simply by doing absolutely nothing.
Look out, Laurel and Hardy!
Director: Jared Hess
Screenwriters: Jared Hess & Jerusha Hess & Mike White
Producers: Mike White, Jack Black, Julia Pistor, David Klawans
Director of photography: Xavier Perez Grobet
Production designer: Gideon Ponte
Editor: Billy Weber
Costume designer: Graciela Mazon
Music: Danny Elfman
Cast:
Nacho: Jack Black
Esqueleto: Hector Jimenez
Sister Encarnacion: Ana de la Reguera
Guillermo: Richard Montoya
Ramses: Cesar Gonzalez |
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Tuesday, 15 August 2006 00:35 |
Universal pegs the worldwide boxoffice take of the first two installments at $443 million. "Tokyo Drift" will add considerably to that figure. It's not as sharp and savvy as the first film nor, on the other hand, is this one running on empty as the second film did. Teens, especially males, will dig the action and the hot Asian babes, so probably few are going to mind that its hero is a moron.
That would be Sean Boswell, played by young Lucas Black, his native Alabama accent going full throttle yet the guy gets upset when Japanese youth call him a gaijin, meaning foreigner or outsider. In the movie's first extended sequence, which takes place somewhere in Red Neck, USA, Sean flirts with another guy's girlfriend and finds himself challenged to a car race.
In the movie's second extended sequence -- after his mother is forced to send him to his dad, a military man stationed in Japan, in order for Sean to escape the legal consequences of the destruction caused by the race -- he flirts with someone else's girlfriend and gets challenged ... oh, you get the picture. This is a guy who not only is not going to learn from past mistakes, the movie actually takes these failures as a solid character trait.
When he trashes a Nissan Silvia S15 in the second race, this lands him a a job as a stooge to Japanese-American gangster Han (Sung Kang). Strangely, director Justin Lin and screenwriter Chris Morgan see nothing ominous in their hero's easy transition into crime. This is just a setup for his immersion into the Japanese racing phenomenon known as "drift" racing.
Drift is the rubber-burning, slide-and-glide maneuvers that allow racers to negotiate hairpin turns and switchbacks in the mountains and canyons of rural Japan and the parking structures of urban Japan. Sean totals several cars before mastering the art, but like all Americans in Japan before him -- think Tom Selleck in "Mr. Baseball" and Tom Cruise in "The Last Samurai" -- he soon can out-Japanese the Japanese.
Plot developments that bear little scrutiny involve Sean's growing affection for Neela (Australian newcomer Nathalie Kelley, whose ethnicity is never clear), the girlfriend of a gangster known as D.K. (Brian Tee) as in "Drift King." There also are a few speeches about trust and character and knowing where you belong as the movie wants to cast its characters as misunderstood youth. In fact, they are thoroughly understood as amoral, sensation-seeking youngsters who care about nothing save themselves.
The car stunts, especially the drifting, are brilliantly choreographed, though at times the choreography shows. Cinematographer Stephen F. Windon and editors Fred Raskin and Kelly Matsumoto display these stunts to maximum impact.
The movie's basic problem is that Sean is the least interesting character and Black the least interesting actor in the film. Even Bow Wow as Sean's sidekick Twinkie has more depth and the gangsters -- including D.K.'s uncle, played by legendary Japanese film star JJ Sonny Chiba in his "Godfather" whites -- are more charismatic. Or at least they are before the auto eroticism takes over.
More worrisome is the steady decline in ambition in director Lin. Coming off the high of one of Sundance's most electric titles, the edgy, satirical "Better Luck Tomorrow" in 2003, both of his 2006 films, "Annapolis" and now this one, have displayed not one iota of a filmmaking personality. That's drift of the wrong kind. |
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Tuesday, 15 August 2006 00:34 |
Facing no direct competition from romantic dramas and boasting the marquee allure of Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock, it will entice initial interest, particularly among women, before word travels that this tale of frustrated love is an unfulfilling fantasy, lovely to look at and confounding to the core.
Time-slip sagas have a built-in intrigue, and film is a perfect medium for exploring ruptures in the temporal continuum. But concept alone isn't enough. The not-quite fully baked idea at the center of "Lake House" is an appealing metaphor for romantic destiny: Two lonely souls who live in the same house at different times begin communicating across a distance of two years. Adoring shots of building facades notwithstanding, the story's passion is subdued to the point of absence. And even within its wobbly framework of metaphysical logic, the payoff is such a cheat that viewers who aren't punch-drunk from being pingponged between the film's two time periods will be left only with questions -- but not the kind that will bring them back for second viewings.
Adapting "Il Mare," a 2000 South Korean fantasy/romance, Argentine director Alejandro Agresti ("Valentin") and screenwriter David Auburn ("Proof") strain for a sense of portent and wonder. Auburn forsakes dramatic tension and pacing to fill characters' mouths with dialogue that spells out his themes with such obviousness that Vanna White or Akeelah wouldn't be out of place. He further lards the proceedings with forced literary and cinematic allusions.
With the help of Rachel Portman's restrained score, Nathan Crowley's production design and the elegant, sumptuous precision of cinematographer Alar Kivilo's compositions, "Lake House" does capture the way certain places become imbued with feeling. The titular abode is a breathtaking glass box on stilts (built for the film), whose symbolism is helpfully explained by characters using words like "disconnected" and "incomplete." Moving from the North Shore retreat to take a hospital job in Chicago, Dr. Kate Forster (Bullock) leaves a letter for the next tenant requesting that her mail be forwarded. The note's recipient, Alex Wyler (Reeves), having moved into the "abandoned dump" his father designed years earlier, is baffled by her claims. But soon they're exchanging daily missives via the house's mailbox, only to discover that he's writing from 2004 while she lives in 2006.
Introspection and solitude are rich cinematic subjects, but here the reunited "Speed" stars play characters whose personalities are so recessive that they inspire only indifference. Bullock is quite good at conveying Kate's discontent without overstating the matter, even if the script does, pushing the worn notion that single career women are the saddest people on the planet. Kate plays chess with her dog; her only real-world contacts are unsatisfying exchanges with an ex-boyfriend (Dylan Walsh), her mother (Willeke van Ammelrooy) and a colleague (Shohreh Aghdashloo).
Reeves, who like his co-star has done his most interesting recent work in small independent films and whose true forte is comedy, brings an inscrutability to Alex that's a detriment. He's an architect who, unlike his younger brother (Ebon Moss-Bachrach), has taken a gauche detour into condo development. Agresti stops the action, as it were, so that Christopher Plummer, as their imperious father, can deliver a lecture on the quality of light with a mad-artist twinkle in his eye.
But there is no illumination at the end of this time-lapse tunnel, whose participants sense a connection that the audience never does. Though it's not without lovely moments -- a tree Alex plants for Kate in 2004 suddenly appears before her, full-boughed -- too much of this would-be love story unfolds via voiceover readings of letters loaded with backstory, trying to fill in what the film can't bring alive in the present.
Warner Bros. Pictures presents in association with Village Roadshow Pictures a Vertigo Entertainment production
Director: Alejandro Agresti
Screenwriter: David Auburn
Based on the motion picture "Il Mare" produced by Sidus
Producers: Doug Davison, Roy Lee
Executive producers: Erwin Stoff, Dana Goldberg, Bruce Berman, Mary McLaglen
Director of photography: Alar Kivilo
Production designer: Nathan Crowley
Music: Rachel Portman
Co-producer: Sonny Mallhi
Costume designer: Deena Appel
Editors: Lynzee Klingman, Alejandro Brodersohn
Cast:
Alex Wyler: Keanu Reeves
Kate Forster: Sandra Bullock
Simon Wyler: Christopher Plummer
Henry Wyler: Ebon Moss-Bachrach
Kate's mother: Willeke van Ammelrooy
Morgan: Dylan Walsh
Anna: Shohreh Aghdashloo
Mona: Lynn Collins |
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Tuesday, 15 August 2006 00:28 |
While the other guys are still hawking talking animals, the folks at Pixar continue to up the anthropomorphic ante with terrific characters and crowd-pleasing storytelling that are as much a part of the company's much-deserved success as all that state-of-the-art technology.
Although the latest model -- concerning a hotshot hot rod who takes an unanticipated detour from life in the fast lane -- takes a little while to achieve traction, it ultimately hits all the key emotional and comedic checkpoints.
Given a fan base that spans virtually all demographics, "Cars" will handily take first place in its opening weekend and is destined to emerge as one of the season's biggest performers.
After spending the past seven years in an executive producer capacity, John Lasseter logs his first directing credit since 1999's "Toy Story 2" with this soulful road picture about a *****y rookie race car (voiced by Owen Wilson) who is en route to the Piston Cup Championship in California when an unfortunate chain of events lands him smack dab in the sleepy Route 66 town of Radiator Springs.
To make matters worse, Lightning McQueen has quickly succeeded in raising the ire of the local judge, Doc Hudson (Paul Newman), who won't allow him to leave until he makes amends for tearing up the town's main street.
But before the repairs are done, he finds himself drawn to Radiator Springs' once-thriving past and its colorful denizens, particularly the knowing Sally Carrera (Bonnie Hunt), a sporty 2002 Porsche and former Los Angeles lawyer who drove off one day in search of a more meaningful life; and the sweet-natured Mater (Larry the Cable Guy), a good ol' boy, bucktoothed tow truck.
By the time McQueen gets back on track, he finds his priorities have been seriously realigned.
Maybe it has something to do with that sleepy rural vibe, or a running time that creeps up on the two-hour mark, but whatever the reason, the picture's pacing hits some potholes during its extended sojourn in Radiator Springs.
For those accustomed to smoother Pixar rides, the shifts in rhythm might be a tad too noticeable, but Lasseter, who also penned the script along with Dan Fogelman, the late Joe Ranft, Kiel Murray & Phil Lorin and Jorgen Klubien, still manages to cross the finish line in style.
You can't miss with that dream team of a voice cast, which, in addition to Wilson, Newman, Hunt and an irresistible turn by comedian Larry the Cable Guy that turns scene stealing into grand theft, includes George Carlin as Fillmore, a hippie dippy VW bus, Tony Shalhoub as Luigi, an emotional '59 Fiat and Michael Keaton as Chick Hicks, McQueen's ruthless competitor.
Then there's the eye-popping technology which once again outdoes itself, breaking fresh ground with extensive ray tracing that provides photo-realistic reflections in all that polished metal and chrome, not to mention those striking, dusty Route 66 vistas.
Those who stay until the end of the credits will be rewarded with a hilarious tribute to Pixar lucky charm John Ratzenberger (who marks his seventh collaboration here as a not-so-trusty transport truck) as well as a touching one to Pixar animator Ranft, who passed away in August.
Settling the score, meanwhile, is Randy Newman, whose fourth Pixar collaboration ambles along agreeably, accompanied by drivin' tunes performed by Rascal Flatts, Sheryl Crow and Brad Paisley that are perfect for coasting along those alternate routes.
A Walt Disney Pictures presentation of a Pixar Animation Studios film
Director: John Lasseter
Co-director: Joe Ranft
Producer: Darla K. Anderson
Screenwriters: Dan Fogelman, John Lasseter, Joe Ranft, Kiel Murray & Phil Lorin, Jorgen Klubien
Story: John Lasseter, Joe Ranft, Jorgen Klubien
Editor: Ken Schretzmann
Music: Randy Newman.
Voice cast:
Lightning McQueen: Owen Wilson
Doc Hudson
Paul Newman
Sally Carrera: Bonnie Hunt
Mater: Larry The Cable Guy
Ramone: Cheech Marin
Luigi: Tony Shalhoub
Guido: Guido Quaroni
Flo: Jenifer Lewis
Sarge: Paul Dooley
The Sheriff: Michael Wallis
Fillmore: George Carlin
Lizzie: Katherine Helmond
Mack: John Ratzenberger
Chick Hicks: Michael Keaton
The King: Richard Petty.
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Tuesday, 15 August 2006 00:25 |
Director John Moore, who previously demonstrated his penchant for remakes with "Flight of the Phoenix," takes great pains to replicate the dramatic set pieces of the original, with almost all of them replicated in slavish fashion. But though he's crudely effective in his re-creations, the filmmaker lacks the slick style with which Richard Donner infused the original. The result, once again written by original screenwriter David Seltzer, seems like a pale imitation, an impression that is only reinforced by the casting of the lead roles.
Replacing Gregory Peck and Lee Remick as the beleaguered parents are Liev Schreiber and Julia Stiles. As diplomat Robert Thorn and his ill-fated wife, Katherine, who are bringing up their young son while unaware that he is the spawn of the devil, the talented performers seem to be playing at being grown-up. Stiles in particular seems far too young and childlike for the role, while the normally effective Schreiber lacks the gravitas that would seem necessary for his character's elemental struggle against evil. Too often, his dark looks and menacing scowl deliver the wrong signals about whose side he's on.
The casting is much more effective in the supporting roles, with British veterans David Thewlis, Pete Postlethwaite and Michael Gambon delivering juicy turns as, respectively, the reporter and priests attempting to warn Thorn of the impending apocalypse. As the literal nanny from hell, Mia Farrow uses her inherent strangeness -- not to mention her "Rosemary's Baby" resonance -- to excellent effect. And young Seamus Davey-Fitzpatrick is about as creepy a devilish tyke as one could hope for.
Most of the scenes that worked in the original, from Thorn's menacing encounter with Damien's new guard dog to the horrific suicide of Damien's first nanny to the particularly colorful demises of the reporter and priest, are once again effective. But such original flourishes as working in footage of the Sept. 11 attacks and the tsunami disaster to indicate the impending apocalypse seem rather tacky, and the repeated use of dream sequences featuring eardrum-shattering sound effects are a cheap way of garnering scares.
One element that should have been recycled from the original, Jerry Goldsmith's supremely chilling musical score, has been jettisoned, with the new score by Marco Beltrami proving thoroughly ordinary.
A 20th Century Fox production
Director: John Moore
Screenwriter: David Seltzer
Producers: Glenn Williamson, John Moore
Executive producer: Jeffrey Stott
Director of photography: Jonathan Sela
Production designer: Patrick Lumb
Film editor: Dan Zimmerman
Music: Marco Beltrami
Costume designer: George L. Little.
Cast:
Katherine Thorn: Julia Stiles
Robert Thorn: Liev Schreiber
Mrs. Baylock: Mia Farrow
Jennings: David Thewlis
Father Brennan: Pete Postlethwaite
Bugenhagen: Michael Gambon
Damien: Seamus Davey-Fitzpatrick. |
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Tuesday, 15 August 2006 00:21 |
And he still might -- one of these days.
In the meantime, there's "The Break-Up," a major disappointment of an anti-romantic comedy for which Vaughn shares producer and story credits in addition to sharing the screen with real-life squeeze Jennifer Aniston.
After a promisingly quirky start, "Break-Up" suffers a major breakdown from which it never recovers.
Audiences expecting a good time will instead be rewarded with wildly unsympathetic lead characters and uncomfortably long stretches without a laugh in sight. While they might initially be drawn in by the marketing department's promise of something a lot more entertaining, the end boxoffice result will likely be less than amicable.
Initially meeting at a baseball game, Chicago tour guide Gary Grobowski (Vaughn) manages to persuade art gallery employee Brooke Meyers (Aniston) to dump her male friend and go out with him basically by buying her a hot dog.
Flash forward to the couple living in what isn't exactly domestic bliss, with Brooke running around getting ready to host a dinner party for their families while Gary contentedly parks himself in front of the television.
With the cracks in their relationship finally reaching the breaking point, Brooke finally calls Gary for the jerk he is, but in her little schemes to make him realize the errors of his ways, Brooke only ends up matching him in the bad behavior department.
But what could have at best played out like a wilted "War of the Roses" ends up looking a lot more like Rob Reiner's misbegotten "The Story of Us."
It would have helped if director Peyton Reed ("Bring It On," "Down With Love") had been as concerned with giving his audience characters worth investing in as he was with all those stylish visual compositions, but the script, by first-time feature writers Jeremy Garelick and Jay Lavender, constantly leaves its actors in the lurch.
While Vaughn and Aniston do some solid emoting, the comedic element, such as it is, never feels organic to the rest of the film. Hints of what might have been can be found in colorful supporting turns from Vaughn's old "Swingers" pal Jon Favreau as his bartender buddy Johnny O; Judy Davis as Aniston's hysterically harsh gallery boss, Marilyn Dean; and especially Christopher Guest regular John Michael Higgins as Aniston's brother, Richard, who is obsessed with singing in his all-male a cappella group, the Tone Rangers.
But by the time the tacked-on ending to end all tacked-on endings arrives -- in which Vaughn's considerable, continuity-throwing weight loss is dealt with by Aniston noting, "You've lost weight" -- "The Break-Up" and its audience have long ago parted ways.
THE BREAK-UP
Universal
Universal Pictures presents a Wild West Picture Show production
Director: Peyton Reed
Screenwriters: Jeremy Garelick, Jay Lavender
Story by: Vince Vaughn, Jeremy Garelick, Jay Lavender
Producers: Vince Vaughn, Scott Stuber
Executive producers: Peter Billingsley, Stuart Besser
Director of photography: Eric Edwards
Production designer: Andrew Laws
Editors: David Rosenbloom, Dan Lebental
Costume designer: Carol Oditz
Music: Jon Brion
Cast:
Gary Grobowski: Vince Vaughn
Brooke Meyers: Jennifer Aniston
Maddie: Joey Lauren Adams
Wendy Meyers: Ann-Margret
Riggleman: Jason Bateman
Marilyn Dean: Judy Davis
Dennis Grobowski: Vincent D'Onofrio
Johnny O: Jon Favreau
Lupus Grobowski: Cole Hauser
Richard Meyers: John Michael Higgins
Christopher: Justin Long
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Tuesday, 15 August 2006 00:20 |
With creative force Bryan Singer having vacated the X-Men universe for the highly anticipated "Superman Returns," Brett Ratner has taken the reins, and though the picture is not without its wow-inducing, SFX-driven moments, that potent X-factor is considerably diminished in Singer's absence.
Arriving Friday on the heels of tonight's splashy Cannes premiere, the film should still enjoy an X-cellent opening weekend, but less assured is its ability to scale the $214.8 million-grossing heights of 2003's "X2: X-Men United."
The gang's pretty much all here for the purported final go-round, which sees the makings of a virtual mutant civil war ignited by the introduction of a pharmaceutical cure for their afflictions/attributes.
That promise of conformity offered by the crusading Warren Worthington Sr. (Michael Murphy) further alienates the mutant society with its double-edged ramifications.
Unsurprisingly, the "cure" triggers a sociological showdown between the ever-tolerant Charles Xavier (Patrick Stewart) and the mercurial Magneto (Ian McKellen), who vows to obliterate both the remedy and its adherents, human and mutant alike.
Meanwhile, on a more local level, Logan, aka Wolverine (Hugh Jackman), is thrown for an emotional loop when the extremely telepathic Jean Grey (Famke Janssen) emerges from what was believed to have been her watery grave with her powers notably undiluted.
But while the setup, with its underlying themes of sexual identity and alienation more pronounced than ever, is intriguing enough, "Last Stand" is more concerned about getting to the next special effects sequence than it is about tapping into those relevant undercurrents.
Sticking mainly to the surface, Ratner, who came on board after the hasty departure of "Layer Cake" director Matthew Vaughn, keeps things moving swiftly enough, but his writing team (Singer took previous "X-Men" scribes Michael Dougherty and Dan Harris to the "Superman" movie) -- including Simon Kinberg ("Mr. & Mrs. Smith") and Zak Penn -- fails to nail the requisite tone.
So while Jackman, Janssen, McKellen, Stewart, Halle Berry's Storm, Rebecca Romijn's Mystique, as well as newcomer Kelsey Grammer's hairy, blue-tinged Dr. Henry McCoy/Beast are all in fine fighting form, their superpowers ultimately are rendered useless in the face of some ultradumb dialogue that truly misses the "X-Men" mark.
Visual effects supervisor John Bruno, meanwhile, doesn't disappoint with some franchise-worthy set pieces -- among them a dramatic repositioning of the Golden Gate Bridge and a rather extreme makeover of Grey's suburban home -- that are worthy of the Marvel moniker.
X-Men: The Last Stand
20th Century Fox
20th Century Fox presents in association with Marvel Entertainment a Donners Co. production of a Brett Ratner film
Director: Brett Ratner
Screenwriters: Simon Kinberg & Zak Penn
Producers: Lauren Shuler Donner, Ralph Winter, Avi Arad
Executive producers: Stan Lee, Kevin Feige, John Palermo
Director of photography: Dante Spinotti
Production designer: Edward Verreaux
Editors: Mark Helfrich, Mark Goldblatt, Julia Wong
Costume designer: Judianna Makovsky
Music: John Powell
Visual effects supervisor: John Bruno
Cast:
Logan/Wolverine: Hugh Jackman
Storm: Halle Berry
Professor Charles Xavier: Patrick Stewart
Magneto: Ian McKellen
Jean Grey: Famke Janssen
Rogue: Anna Paquin
Dr. Henry McCoy/Beast: Kelsey Grammer
Cyclops: James Marsden
Mystique: Rebecca Romijn
Bobby Drake/Iceman: Shawn Ashmore
Pyro: Aaron Stanford
Juggernaut: Vinnie Jones
Warren Worthington III/Angel: Ben Foster
Kitty Pryde: Ellen Page
Callisto: Dania Ramirez |
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Tuesday, 15 August 2006 00:17 |
Bottom line: A jumble of historical myth, religious symbology and international thriller-action makes for an unwieldy, bloated melodrama.
Strictly as a movie and ignoring the current swirl of controversy no amount of studio money could ever buy, the Ron Howard-directed film features one of Tom Hanks' more remote, even wooden performances in a role that admittedly demands all the wrong sorts of things from a thriller protagonist; an only slightly more animated performance from his French co-star, Audrey Tautou; and polished Hollywood production values where camera cranes sweep viewers up to God-like points of view and famous locations and deliciously sinister interiors heighten tension where the movie threatens to turn into a historical treatise. The movie really only catches fire after an hour, when Ian McKellen hobbles on the scene as the story's Sphinx-like Sir Leigh Teabing. Here is the one actor having fun with his role and playing a character rather than a piece to a puzzle.
True believers and those who want to understand what all the fuss is about will jam cinemas worldwide in the coming weeks in sufficient numbers so as to fulfill probably even the most optimistic projections of Sony execs.
But the movie is so drenched in dialogue musing over arcane mythological and historical lore and scenes grow so static that even camera movement can't disguise the dramatic inertia. Such sins could cut into those rosy projections.
For those who vacationed on Mars for the past few years, "The Da Vinci Code" is the second of Brown's thrillers starring Harvard professor of iconography and religious art Robert Langdon (Hanks). The books seek to put contemporary ticking bombs into dusty historical disputes. In this one, the murder of a highly respected curator in the Louvre in Paris, where Langdon fortuitously happens to be while on a speaking engagement, embroils the professor in a race against time to locate nothing less than the Holy Grail.
His companion is police cryptologist Sophie Neveu (Tautou), and his seeming nemesis is bulldog police captain Bezu Fache (Jean Reno, largely wasted), who for no plausible reason believes Langdon to be the killer. But other potential villains loom: Jet-setting Bishop Aringarosa (Alfred Molina), from the ultraconservative Opus Dei branch of Catholicism, and Silas, an albino-monk assassin (Paul Bettany).
The plot is driven not by its characters but by solutions to puzzles, the breaking of codes, interpreting covert references in works of art and a dazzling display of historical knowledge, all of which works terrifically in the novel but puts the brakes to all screen action. Hanks' character is far too reactive and contemplative for a movie action hero, and the cliched nature of those drifting in and out of his orbit hits home with jolting simplicity.
Screen adapter Akiva Goldsman has definitely punched up Brown's third act. He has actually improved on the novel -- at least for those who buy in to the historical controversy that Jesus left behind a royal French bloodline -- by giving the story a broader, more fulfilling payoff than the novel. If one doesn't buy into that controversy, then the story becomes just that much more forced and corrupt. (The final revelation produced a few titters in the first press audience to see the film.)
Howard and Goldsman can't do much, though, with mostly colorless characters designed around idiosyncrasies and weird scholarly talents -- sort of academic X-Men -- rather than flesh-and-blood personalities. No chemistry exists between the hero and heroine, and motivation remains a troubling sore point. Why does the innocent professor flee? Why is Sophie so eager to help? Why is anyone doing what he does when so many characters and subplots turn into red herrings?
One questionable "cinematic" addition to the film are flashbacks to ancient biblical and medieval historical tableaus in the Holy Land and Europe that illustrate Prof. Langdon's continuous lectures on religious history. These look as if some prankster spliced scenes from last year's "Kingdom of Heaven" into the film as a bad joke.
Howard proves a smart choice as a director because his middlebrow tastes inspire him to go for broad strokes and forget making any real sense of these logic-busters. But why did he allow such a solid, attractive cast to turn in such stiff, unappealing performances? Salvatore Totino's glistening cinematography, Allan Cameron's assured production design and Hans Zimmer's driving score are definitely pluses. Yet "Da Vinci" never rises to the level of a guilty pleasure. Too much guilt. Not enough pleasure.
THE DA VINCI CODE
Columbia Pictures
Imagine Entertainment
Director: Ron Howard
Screenwriter: Akiva Goldsman
Based on the novel by: Dan Brown
Producers: Brian Grazer, John Calley
Executive producers: Todd Hallowell, Dan Brown
Director of photography: Salvatore Totino
Production designer: Allan Cameron
Music: Hans Zimmer
Costumes: Daniel Orlandi
Editors: Dan Hanley, Mike Hill.
Cast:
Robert Langdon: Tom Hanks
Sophie Neveu: Audrey Tautou
Sir Leigh Teabing: Ian McKellen
Captain Fache: Jean Reno
Silas: Paul Bettany
Bishop Aringarosa: Alfred Molina
Vernet: Jurgen Prochnow
Remy Jean: Jean-Yves Berteloot |
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Thursday, 01 June 2006 00:00 |
But under the façade of friendly neighbours, lies a web of lies, deceit and lots of hardcore gun power. For, John and Jane Smith, who live in a holly-lined suburban bungalow, are not the simple business people that they seem.
The innocuous garden shed doubles up as a high-tech weapons store, the oven opens up with an array of guns because Mr. Smith (Brad Pitt) and Mrs. Smith (Angelina Jolie) are the world's deadliest assassins - only they don't know about each other's secret identity.
So they visit a shrink, say "I don't answer the question" when asked "So how many times do you have sex?" and talk about dinner table discussions which revolve around the addition of peas in a recipe.
Director Doug Liman ("Bourne Identity") certainly knows a thing or two about action flicks, brings all the razzle-dazzle that a big budget 20th Century Fox thriller should possess, including the zipping car chases and the millions of bullets.
There is a dashing thrill about watching two of the world's most beautiful people display their much talked about chemistry - whether they are doing the tango or are in white underwear in a bashed up car.
That chemistry, every bit of it, oozes out on screen as Pitt and Jolie play the bored husband and wife and then, deadly killers, with equal aplomb.
One of the 'moments' in the film comes when, after both of them have finished a kill (including Jolie floating down from a skyscraper aided by a single stretchable rope) - the duo go to party next door.
And Jolie, as Mrs. Jane Smith, sits toying with some insipid wine, when suddenly a baby is handed to her. A baby! She looks stricken.
After such woes, the action heats up when the duo discover each other's real identities and now have a new assignment - to kill each other.
That's what they do. Jane Smith tries to bomb to oblivion John Smith, who in turn tries to shoot his wife dead. And then, there is that fascinating hand-to-hand smash up, where they punch and kick and bash with great gusto.
The sudden cold heartedness with which they try to kill each other is a little abrupt but Liman makes sure that there is some emotion here and there - like when Jane sees a teddy bear that John had given her being torn to bits in the battle and the solitary tear that she sheds thinking he is dead.
The writing is fabulous, especially the car chase sequence when, while battling half a dozen cars, they own up to the lies that they've told. And then, Pitt's disgust when he confesses to having slept with "50 or 60 women" and Jolie says her figure is "312".
And the final shootout is choreographed like a dream with the Smiths firing away back to back to survive. All in all, "Mr. and Mrs. Smith" is a brilliant coming together of two uniquely glamorous stars.
Are they having an affair? Well, many would say, we hope so.
Cast: Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie
Director: Doug Liman
Producer: 20th Century Fox
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Hollywood Movies
