O Masterpiece
O Excellent
O Good
X OK
O Mediocrity
O Avoid
Review by Jason Pyles / March 28, 2008
Note: This review was written for The College Times, the student publication for Utah Valley State College, hence the personalized references.
A buried treasure lies just across the street beneath Wal-Mart's floor. OK, not really, but Wal-Mart has Cadbury Mini Eggs on sale, and those are worth their weight in gold. Remember: "When Easter's gone, they're gone."
“King of California,” which was recently released on DVD, monkeys around with similar shenanigans. An explorer named Father Torres led a 17th century expedition whose cache of "doubloons" (Spanish gold coins) happens to remain underneath what is now a Santa Clarita Costco.
At least, so says Charlie (Michael Douglas), who learned of this legend online while living in a mental institution. Charlie's independent, 16-year-old daughter, Miranda (Evan Rachel Wood), has little patience for her father's eccentricity; nevertheless, her narration confides to us, "Parents have this advantage over us: We want to believe in them; and when we don't believe in them, we just want to be with them."
The charismatic father lures his leery daughter and his old, Jazz-combo buddy, Pepper (Willis Burks II), into his treasure hunt. At one point, when Charlie unearths some pottery shards believed to belong to the expedition, he tells his daughter, "Put that in your hands, and feel how old that is."
We know from the opening scenes where all this is leading: Inevitably, at some point in the film, the gold diggers will attempt to exhume the loot (which we're not sure exists) from Costco. Imagine executing a heist like that.
Michael Douglas pulls off insanity almost as well as Jack Nicholson does. See Douglas in “Falling Down” (1993), where he plays a distraught dad who snaps one day and unleashes his Id upon society's irritants.
“King of California” yields a quirky metaphor for how colossal superstores are like geese, sitting upon golden eggs, which are otherwise inaccessible to little guys like us. By way of contrast, Miranda's allegiance to her McDonald's job cannot afford her a dishwasher (the only thing she really wants), while Charlie's obsession is to swipe the discount store's "dirty" money. Like most people who grow rich from corporations, Charlie hopes to "get in on the ground level." Meanwhile, product placement and shameless advertising abound. Charlie says of Costco, "This place has everything!"
“King of California” is an OK comedic caper. It is Mike Cahill's directorial debut and a promising sign of his potential. The movie's PG-13 rating pushes the envelope with three "f-words" (not Fresno), and a benign gathering of middle-age swingers.
UVSC has an actual, semi-buried treasure within its walls. Look in the Sorensen Center, across from the bookstore, near Scoops; there sits a brick box, a veritable time capsule, built in 1993 to be opened in 2093, as the inscription reads, "to provide insights into our lives." Too bad we have to wait 85 years for those insights.
Directed by Mike Cahill
Michael Douglas / Evan Rachel Wood / Willis Burks II
Comedy 93 min.
MPAA: PG-13 (for some strong language, mature thematic elements and brief drug references)
U.S. Release Date: September 14, 2007
Copyright 2008: 263
Friday, March 28, 2008
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Punch-Drunk Love (2002)
O Masterpiece
X Excellent
O Good
O OK
O Mediocrity
O Avoid
Review by Jason Pyles / March 19, 2008
In 1999, David Phillips discovered a promotion through Healthy Choice food products that enabled him to accumulate 1.25 million frequent-flyer miles. How? He bought $3,000 worth of pudding (12,150 cups).
This true tale inspired writer-director Paul Thomas Anderson (of recent “There Will Be Blood” fame), to make what is now an overlooked, underappreciated cinematic curiosity called “Punch-Drunk Love” (2002).
Sherman Oaks, Calif. is home to one disquieting Barry Egan (Adam Sandler). He runs a business, wears a royal blue suit and has a mild-mannered demeanor that masks the violent mania of a man riddled with anxieties.
While in the midst of collecting frequent-flyer miles, Barry begins dating Lena Leonard (Emily Watson), an uncommonly forbearing love interest. But he’s also juggling his seven carping sisters, and a phone-sex extortionist (Philip Seymour Hoffman), who has dispatched goons from Provo, Utah (of all places) to implement “some rough stuff” and steal Barry’s money.
“Punch-Drunk Love” is one of a kind, just shy of a masterpiece. Adam Sandler is the film’s double-edged sword, however. Though this role isn’t typical of Sandler, his usual, overstated acting prevents him from credibly portraying some of his character’s intense emotions, such as weeping. But somewhat paradoxically, Sandler seems born to play Barry, especially during the movie’s highlight, when his often-displaced rage is finally administered at the right time and place.
With golden dialogue like, “I’m looking at your face, and I just wanna smash it,” or “At that restaurant, I beat up the bathroom. I’m sorry,” this movie is nothing short of unforgettable.
Consider the opening scenes, a peculiar, unintended short film within the film: Barry finds a mysterious harmonium (a small reed organ), inexplicably dumped by an acrobatic van. What? Exactly. By the way, last year’s best musical, “Once,” also begins with a scene that could stand alone as a short film.
“Punch-Drunk Love” is like wandering through a weird week of an even weirder guy’s life. Its joys come from seeing its thin story unfold. Indeed, very little happens to the characters in “Punch-Drunk Love”; the real magic happens to us.
Directed by Paul Thomas Anderson
Adam Sandler / Emily Watson / Philip Seymour Hoffman
Comedy / Romance 95 min.
MPAA: R (for strong language including a scene of sexual dialogue)
U.S. Release Date: November 1, 2002
Copyright 2008: 262
X Excellent
O Good
O OK
O Mediocrity
O Avoid
Review by Jason Pyles / March 19, 2008
In 1999, David Phillips discovered a promotion through Healthy Choice food products that enabled him to accumulate 1.25 million frequent-flyer miles. How? He bought $3,000 worth of pudding (12,150 cups).
This true tale inspired writer-director Paul Thomas Anderson (of recent “There Will Be Blood” fame), to make what is now an overlooked, underappreciated cinematic curiosity called “Punch-Drunk Love” (2002).
Sherman Oaks, Calif. is home to one disquieting Barry Egan (Adam Sandler). He runs a business, wears a royal blue suit and has a mild-mannered demeanor that masks the violent mania of a man riddled with anxieties.
While in the midst of collecting frequent-flyer miles, Barry begins dating Lena Leonard (Emily Watson), an uncommonly forbearing love interest. But he’s also juggling his seven carping sisters, and a phone-sex extortionist (Philip Seymour Hoffman), who has dispatched goons from Provo, Utah (of all places) to implement “some rough stuff” and steal Barry’s money.
“Punch-Drunk Love” is one of a kind, just shy of a masterpiece. Adam Sandler is the film’s double-edged sword, however. Though this role isn’t typical of Sandler, his usual, overstated acting prevents him from credibly portraying some of his character’s intense emotions, such as weeping. But somewhat paradoxically, Sandler seems born to play Barry, especially during the movie’s highlight, when his often-displaced rage is finally administered at the right time and place.
With golden dialogue like, “I’m looking at your face, and I just wanna smash it,” or “At that restaurant, I beat up the bathroom. I’m sorry,” this movie is nothing short of unforgettable.
Consider the opening scenes, a peculiar, unintended short film within the film: Barry finds a mysterious harmonium (a small reed organ), inexplicably dumped by an acrobatic van. What? Exactly. By the way, last year’s best musical, “Once,” also begins with a scene that could stand alone as a short film.
“Punch-Drunk Love” is like wandering through a weird week of an even weirder guy’s life. Its joys come from seeing its thin story unfold. Indeed, very little happens to the characters in “Punch-Drunk Love”; the real magic happens to us.
Directed by Paul Thomas Anderson
Adam Sandler / Emily Watson / Philip Seymour Hoffman
Comedy / Romance 95 min.
MPAA: R (for strong language including a scene of sexual dialogue)
U.S. Release Date: November 1, 2002
Copyright 2008: 262
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Bonneville (2008)
O Masterpiece
O Excellent
O Good
X OK
O Mediocrity
O Avoid
Review by Jason Pyles / March 18, 2008
“Have you ever tried to imagine that moment … the day you come home alone?” So asks the newly widowed Arvilla Holden (Jessica Lange), as she writes her step-daughter a letter whose narration pervades “Bonneville.”
Joe Holden died unexpectedly while visiting Borneo. Now, his second wife of 20 years and his unpleasant daughter from his first marriage, Francine (Christine Baranski), must make arrangements for the funeral and settle the estate. Arvilla promised Joe that he would be cremated and his ashes spread abroad, amid the natural world that he so loved. But Francine wishes for her father’s remains to be buried with her mother, in Santa Barbara. Joe’s outdated will left his (and Arvilla’s) home in Idaho to Francine, who exploits this predicament to coerce Arvilla to transport her husband’s urn to California.
All of this is merely the set-up for “Bonneville,” a road movie, which is also a buddy movie. It follows Arvilla’s wrestle to decide whether to break her promise to her late husband or lose her home. But she has about a week to think it over, while she and her two best friends, Margene (Kathy Bates) and Carol (Joan Allen), take an adventurous road trip in Joe’s Bonneville convertible from Idaho, through the scenic west, to California for the funeral. (Allen, by the way, plays the clichéd, goody-goody Mormon lady.)
“Bonneville” is director Christopher Rowley’s first feature-length film. His only other work, “The Remembering Movies” (2002), is a short film about a grandson who makes movies to help his grandmother’s failing memory. Both films address the theme of finite family relationships.
Rowley is a decent storyteller, though “Bonneville” tends to lull, here and there, which affects the momentum of a film whose narrative is designed to culminate in dramatic fireworks. But it backslides during the climb. For example, our travelers encounter a wild party in the desert — and they even seek to join in the festivities. We expect that our girls will get in over their heads, but no. The next scene gives us a quiet moment by a campfire, with partiers nowhere in sight.
There are other problems. In one scene the women encounter a couple of thieves, which turns into an unbelievable and awkwardly choreographed skirmish. “Ridiculous” seems a fitting word. But “Bonneville’s” biggest disappointment is its subdued cinematography. Jeffrey Kimball has wonderful subjects to shoot, such as the Bonneville Salt Flats, Lake Powell, and Bryce Canyon, but his photography looks washed out and hazy. Contrast this with the clear, crisp, vibrant cinematography in the scenic “Into the Wild” (2007), and see what could have been.
The real question in “Bonneville” is why isn’t anyone angry with Joe, especially Arvilla? After all, he’s the one who left his affairs in such an ambiguous state. But when we lose those we love most, we tend to exalt them to sainthood, forgetting their faults in mortality.
Of course, it always helps when the dearly departed leaves behind a convertible.
Directed by Christopher N. Rowley
Jessica Lange / Kathy Bates / Joan Allen
Drama / Comedy 93 min.
MPAA: PG (for some mild language and innuendo)
U.S. Release Date: February 29, 2008
Copyright 2008: 261
“Bonneville” is currently playing at Carmike Cinemas’ Wynnsong 12 theater in Provo.
O Excellent
O Good
X OK
O Mediocrity
O Avoid
Review by Jason Pyles / March 18, 2008
“Have you ever tried to imagine that moment … the day you come home alone?” So asks the newly widowed Arvilla Holden (Jessica Lange), as she writes her step-daughter a letter whose narration pervades “Bonneville.”
Joe Holden died unexpectedly while visiting Borneo. Now, his second wife of 20 years and his unpleasant daughter from his first marriage, Francine (Christine Baranski), must make arrangements for the funeral and settle the estate. Arvilla promised Joe that he would be cremated and his ashes spread abroad, amid the natural world that he so loved. But Francine wishes for her father’s remains to be buried with her mother, in Santa Barbara. Joe’s outdated will left his (and Arvilla’s) home in Idaho to Francine, who exploits this predicament to coerce Arvilla to transport her husband’s urn to California.
All of this is merely the set-up for “Bonneville,” a road movie, which is also a buddy movie. It follows Arvilla’s wrestle to decide whether to break her promise to her late husband or lose her home. But she has about a week to think it over, while she and her two best friends, Margene (Kathy Bates) and Carol (Joan Allen), take an adventurous road trip in Joe’s Bonneville convertible from Idaho, through the scenic west, to California for the funeral. (Allen, by the way, plays the clichéd, goody-goody Mormon lady.)
“Bonneville” is director Christopher Rowley’s first feature-length film. His only other work, “The Remembering Movies” (2002), is a short film about a grandson who makes movies to help his grandmother’s failing memory. Both films address the theme of finite family relationships.
Rowley is a decent storyteller, though “Bonneville” tends to lull, here and there, which affects the momentum of a film whose narrative is designed to culminate in dramatic fireworks. But it backslides during the climb. For example, our travelers encounter a wild party in the desert — and they even seek to join in the festivities. We expect that our girls will get in over their heads, but no. The next scene gives us a quiet moment by a campfire, with partiers nowhere in sight.
There are other problems. In one scene the women encounter a couple of thieves, which turns into an unbelievable and awkwardly choreographed skirmish. “Ridiculous” seems a fitting word. But “Bonneville’s” biggest disappointment is its subdued cinematography. Jeffrey Kimball has wonderful subjects to shoot, such as the Bonneville Salt Flats, Lake Powell, and Bryce Canyon, but his photography looks washed out and hazy. Contrast this with the clear, crisp, vibrant cinematography in the scenic “Into the Wild” (2007), and see what could have been.
The real question in “Bonneville” is why isn’t anyone angry with Joe, especially Arvilla? After all, he’s the one who left his affairs in such an ambiguous state. But when we lose those we love most, we tend to exalt them to sainthood, forgetting their faults in mortality.
Of course, it always helps when the dearly departed leaves behind a convertible.
Directed by Christopher N. Rowley
Jessica Lange / Kathy Bates / Joan Allen
Drama / Comedy 93 min.
MPAA: PG (for some mild language and innuendo)
U.S. Release Date: February 29, 2008
Copyright 2008: 261
“Bonneville” is currently playing at Carmike Cinemas’ Wynnsong 12 theater in Provo.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Horton Hears a Who! (2008)
O Masterpiece
X Excellent
O Good
O OK
O Mediocrity
O Avoid
Review by Jason Pyles / March 17, 2008
Dust, of all things, has always been fascinating to me. Where does it come from? How does it reach its seemingly inaccessible destinations? How does it settle so evenly? At what point does it turn into bunnies? And come to think of it, what exactly is dust, anyway? These are all good questions, but no one has ever made us ponder dust like Dr. Seuss.
Originally published as a children’s book in 1954, then produced as a 26-minute, animated TV program in 1970, “Horton Hears a Who!” is one of Dr. Seuss’ most thoughtful stories, and now it’s a feature film. The movie is fairly faithful to the book and the 1970 short film, with a few additions and expansions here and there to help stretch the runtime to 88 minutes.
Horton (Jim Carrey) is a mild-mannered, friendly elephant. One day his big elephant’s ears hear a voice calling out from a floating speck of dust. It turns out that the particle is home to the tiny inhabitants of Whoville. The itty-bitty city’s mayor, Ned McDodd (Steve Carell), discovers that Horton is willing to be a huge helper of the Whos, because he plans to find a safe place for the dust-world to reside amid the dangerously hectic jungle of Nool.
But Horton is harassed by a cantankerous kangaroo (Carol Burnett) who’s got the jungle in an uproar, needlessly spreading alarm with paranoid conspiracy theories and skepticism over Horton’s miniscule microcosm. The persnickety kangaroo enlists the labors of the Wickersham brothers (the funniest part of the 1970 cartoon), and Vlad (Will Arnett), a vile buzzard whose devious design for the disposal of the dust particle is sheer evil genius.
“Horton Hears a Who!” is appropriately rated G. Children of all ages should be pleasantly appeased, even captivated. Unlike other animated features of late, “Horton” is blissfully innocent and devoid of innuendo. In one scene, a character with a quick tongue appears to eat a leaf bug. But a few moments later, we see that the leaf bug isn’t dead. Also, the most despicable character is graciously given a peace offering, of sorts, one that even the littlest moviegoers will understand.
But that’s not to say that “Horton” is without enjoyable tidbits for adults. And aside from its humor, “Horton” is a philosophical, metaphysical delight, posing questions about the nature of reality and the structure of the universe. Indeed, one could easily spot (if one looks) allegories for issues that span from Christianity to global warming. While watching “Horton,” it’s difficult not to think of the marble galaxies from “Men in Black” (1997).
Yes, “Horton Hears a Who!” is excellent, even worth seeing in the theater. I am reminded of my review for “Ghost Rider” (2007), where I extended consolation to director Mark Steven Johnson because of the original source material he was trying to work with. I wrote, “A flaming, skull-headed biker who’s a bounty hunter for the devil is a tall order for any filmmaker.” Well, “Horton” is the antithesis of “Ghost Rider,” because it would be hard to go astray with this inventive story.
Nobody cares, but I always sit in the back row of the theater. When “Horton” ended, I stood up and beheld numberless dust particles visible in the projector’s light beam. Instantly I felt a reflex-like urgency to try to catch them all on my notebook, or a clover. After all, a person’s a person, no matter how small.
Directed by Jimmy Hayward and Steve Martino
Jim Carrey / Steve Carell / Carol Burnett
Animation / Family 88 min.
MPAA: G
U.S. Release Date: March 14, 2008
Copyright 2008: 260
X Excellent
O Good
O OK
O Mediocrity
O Avoid
Review by Jason Pyles / March 17, 2008
Dust, of all things, has always been fascinating to me. Where does it come from? How does it reach its seemingly inaccessible destinations? How does it settle so evenly? At what point does it turn into bunnies? And come to think of it, what exactly is dust, anyway? These are all good questions, but no one has ever made us ponder dust like Dr. Seuss.
Originally published as a children’s book in 1954, then produced as a 26-minute, animated TV program in 1970, “Horton Hears a Who!” is one of Dr. Seuss’ most thoughtful stories, and now it’s a feature film. The movie is fairly faithful to the book and the 1970 short film, with a few additions and expansions here and there to help stretch the runtime to 88 minutes.
Horton (Jim Carrey) is a mild-mannered, friendly elephant. One day his big elephant’s ears hear a voice calling out from a floating speck of dust. It turns out that the particle is home to the tiny inhabitants of Whoville. The itty-bitty city’s mayor, Ned McDodd (Steve Carell), discovers that Horton is willing to be a huge helper of the Whos, because he plans to find a safe place for the dust-world to reside amid the dangerously hectic jungle of Nool.
But Horton is harassed by a cantankerous kangaroo (Carol Burnett) who’s got the jungle in an uproar, needlessly spreading alarm with paranoid conspiracy theories and skepticism over Horton’s miniscule microcosm. The persnickety kangaroo enlists the labors of the Wickersham brothers (the funniest part of the 1970 cartoon), and Vlad (Will Arnett), a vile buzzard whose devious design for the disposal of the dust particle is sheer evil genius.
“Horton Hears a Who!” is appropriately rated G. Children of all ages should be pleasantly appeased, even captivated. Unlike other animated features of late, “Horton” is blissfully innocent and devoid of innuendo. In one scene, a character with a quick tongue appears to eat a leaf bug. But a few moments later, we see that the leaf bug isn’t dead. Also, the most despicable character is graciously given a peace offering, of sorts, one that even the littlest moviegoers will understand.
But that’s not to say that “Horton” is without enjoyable tidbits for adults. And aside from its humor, “Horton” is a philosophical, metaphysical delight, posing questions about the nature of reality and the structure of the universe. Indeed, one could easily spot (if one looks) allegories for issues that span from Christianity to global warming. While watching “Horton,” it’s difficult not to think of the marble galaxies from “Men in Black” (1997).
Yes, “Horton Hears a Who!” is excellent, even worth seeing in the theater. I am reminded of my review for “Ghost Rider” (2007), where I extended consolation to director Mark Steven Johnson because of the original source material he was trying to work with. I wrote, “A flaming, skull-headed biker who’s a bounty hunter for the devil is a tall order for any filmmaker.” Well, “Horton” is the antithesis of “Ghost Rider,” because it would be hard to go astray with this inventive story.
Nobody cares, but I always sit in the back row of the theater. When “Horton” ended, I stood up and beheld numberless dust particles visible in the projector’s light beam. Instantly I felt a reflex-like urgency to try to catch them all on my notebook, or a clover. After all, a person’s a person, no matter how small.
Directed by Jimmy Hayward and Steve Martino
Jim Carrey / Steve Carell / Carol Burnett
Animation / Family 88 min.
MPAA: G
U.S. Release Date: March 14, 2008
Copyright 2008: 260
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Never Back Down (2008)
O Masterpiece
O Excellent
X Good
O OK
O Mediocrity
O Avoid
Review by Jason Pyles / March 14, 2008
“Never Back Down” revamps the “The Karate Kid” (1984). The new movie is edgier, but both tell the same story.
A fatherless young man’s life is in disarray, especially after moving across the country. The new kid (Sean Faris) falls for the right girl (Amber Heard), who’s with the wrong guy (Cam Gigandet). The bad-news boyfriend is a martial arts maniac whose aggression is fueled by an even fiercer teacher.
The protagonist doubles as a punching bag until he’s trained by a mysterious sage (Djimon Hounsou) who is a martial arts master. After too many musical montages of unconventional training methods, the conflict culminates at the big tournament at the end of the movie. And somehow, in both films, mutual respect prevails.
Yes, even the hair color of the respective feuding foes correlates. But there’s something in the new, PG-13 movie that wasn’t in the old, PG rendition: two girls making out in a hot tub. We see a riotous high school party where teens are drinking, running around in bikinis and fighting. As the newcomer, Jake Tyler, strolls through the decadent gathering, he encounters the kissing girls. It is surprising (or maybe it isn’t) for a PG-13 movie to linger so long on this scene.
But film scholar Stanley Kauffmann lends understanding in an article he wrote about violence in film called “Blood on the Screen.” He was referring to violence, not sexuality; but Kauffmann’s following observation applies to a Hollywood tendency that has existed since about 1915: “In order to keep the shock shocking, the tap has to be opened as wide as is currently acceptable.”
Amid our climate of political correctness and sensitivity regarding same-gender attraction, the MPAA can easily catalog same-sex kissing under a PG-13 heading, because classifying it as immoral and slapping it with an R rating would be "offensive." … “As wide as is currently acceptable.”
“Never Back Down” is surprisingly engaging. We can identify with the lead character’s mounting frustrations; and before we know it, we’re itching to see him hurt people. Strangely, and perhaps alarmingly, “Never Back Down” ably stirs aggression within us, too, in much the same way rap music does. And though Ryan, the villain, is humorously nefarious, we’d still like to pound on him ourselves. And while this side effect might not be “a good thing,” this ability to affect its audience is what makes “Never Back Down” a good movie.
It may seem old-fashioned or sentimental, but between the two films, “The Karate Kid” is better. By the way, “The Karate Kid” will be shown on AMC on March 20, 22 and 23. Visit amctv.com for more details.
Directed by Jeff Wadlow
Sean Faris / Cam Gigandet / Djimon Hounsou
Action 114 min.
MPAA: PG-13 (for mature thematic material involving intense sequences of fighting/violence, some sexuality, partying and language — all involving teens)
U.S. Release Date: March 14, 2008
Copyright 2008: 259
O Excellent
X Good
O OK
O Mediocrity
O Avoid
Review by Jason Pyles / March 14, 2008
“Never Back Down” revamps the “The Karate Kid” (1984). The new movie is edgier, but both tell the same story.
A fatherless young man’s life is in disarray, especially after moving across the country. The new kid (Sean Faris) falls for the right girl (Amber Heard), who’s with the wrong guy (Cam Gigandet). The bad-news boyfriend is a martial arts maniac whose aggression is fueled by an even fiercer teacher.
The protagonist doubles as a punching bag until he’s trained by a mysterious sage (Djimon Hounsou) who is a martial arts master. After too many musical montages of unconventional training methods, the conflict culminates at the big tournament at the end of the movie. And somehow, in both films, mutual respect prevails.
Yes, even the hair color of the respective feuding foes correlates. But there’s something in the new, PG-13 movie that wasn’t in the old, PG rendition: two girls making out in a hot tub. We see a riotous high school party where teens are drinking, running around in bikinis and fighting. As the newcomer, Jake Tyler, strolls through the decadent gathering, he encounters the kissing girls. It is surprising (or maybe it isn’t) for a PG-13 movie to linger so long on this scene.
But film scholar Stanley Kauffmann lends understanding in an article he wrote about violence in film called “Blood on the Screen.” He was referring to violence, not sexuality; but Kauffmann’s following observation applies to a Hollywood tendency that has existed since about 1915: “In order to keep the shock shocking, the tap has to be opened as wide as is currently acceptable.”
Amid our climate of political correctness and sensitivity regarding same-gender attraction, the MPAA can easily catalog same-sex kissing under a PG-13 heading, because classifying it as immoral and slapping it with an R rating would be "offensive." … “As wide as is currently acceptable.”
“Never Back Down” is surprisingly engaging. We can identify with the lead character’s mounting frustrations; and before we know it, we’re itching to see him hurt people. Strangely, and perhaps alarmingly, “Never Back Down” ably stirs aggression within us, too, in much the same way rap music does. And though Ryan, the villain, is humorously nefarious, we’d still like to pound on him ourselves. And while this side effect might not be “a good thing,” this ability to affect its audience is what makes “Never Back Down” a good movie.
It may seem old-fashioned or sentimental, but between the two films, “The Karate Kid” is better. By the way, “The Karate Kid” will be shown on AMC on March 20, 22 and 23. Visit amctv.com for more details.
Directed by Jeff Wadlow
Sean Faris / Cam Gigandet / Djimon Hounsou
Action 114 min.
MPAA: PG-13 (for mature thematic material involving intense sequences of fighting/violence, some sexuality, partying and language — all involving teens)
U.S. Release Date: March 14, 2008
Copyright 2008: 259
Friday, March 14, 2008
Doomsday (2008)
O Masterpiece
O Excellent
O Rental
O OK
X Mediocrity
O Avoid
Review by Jason Pyles / March 14, 2008
My Grandpa Olson had no qualms with combining several kinds of cereal in the same bowl of milk. He probably would have gotten along just fine with the makers of “Doomsday,” a hodgepodge mess of a movie that’s got more identity problems than Jason Bourne.
Here’s what I think happened, as near as I can tell: A bunch of movie execs were probably standing around the studio lot one day and noticed an overabundance of punk-rocker outfits, knights’ costumes and other assorted, unrelated materials, and said, “Let’s just use this stuff we already have and make a movie.”
And so we have a “Franken-film,” assembled from recycled props and borrowed plots that we readily recognize as “Escape From New York” (1981), “Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome” (1985), “Aliens” (1986), “First Knight” (1995), “The Siege” (1998), “Gladiator” (2000), “28 Weeks Later” (2007), “Resident Evil: Extinction” (2007), “I Am Legend” (2007), and last but not least, a blatant, unmistakable car commercial for the Bentley Continental GT. In one scene, this movie even seems to be channeling vaudeville.
“Doomsday” opens in our present day, April 2008, in Glasgow, where a heinous virus quickly becomes an epidemic. The “Reaper Virus,” presumably named after “the Grim Reaper,” changes its victims into zombie-like maniacs (“28 Weeks Later”), a development that leads to the swift implementation of martial law (“The Siege”). Scotland is placed under quarantine. A narrator tells us that people are instructed to stay in their homes and wait it out, which is basically a death sentence.
Somehow, a gigantic, 30-foot-high wall is constructed impossibly fast, encircling the infected region, cutting Britain in half. The government seals the entire perimeter, leaving the problematic inhabitants in containment (“Escape From New York”). And, of course, the wall is not passable, in or out, because it’s equipped with watchtower gunmen, living and automated, that fire upon any prospective escapees.
Years pass, and we’re told it’s the year 2035. Inside the wall, social order has decayed, and the survivors have become cannibalistic savages. Outside, the Reaper Virus breaks out again, threatening to overcome the population (“I Am Legend”). But over the years, a military satellite has enabled the outsiders to spy on those imprisoned within the wall. Somehow the people inside have survived; they obviously found a cure.
The powers that be, which include the prime minister, wish to retrieve the cure from the insiders. So they send a combat-savvy Department of Domestic Security agent, Eden Sinclair (Rhona Mitra), with some over-confident special-agent grunts (“Aliens”), into the interior to recover the cure. And they only have 48 hours, or London will be unsalvageable. Naturally, the uncivilized insiders have violent resentment toward those who left them for dead; and the last thing they want to do is help out by handing over a cure. The hostile interior, by the way, is divided up into two bizarre groups: mohawk-biker-Dreadnock-lookin’ ruffians and, well, knights (“Mad Max,” “Gladiator,” “First Knight”). Yes, knights, as in, “of the Round Table.”
Major Eden Sinclair is more or less Milla Jovovich’s Alice character from the “Resident Evil” movies. She’s tough, cynical, and a little too cocky. At one point before entering the enclosed region, Sinclair is warned about the cannibals and rapists and how there will be no rules and no back-up. To which she flippantly responds, “It’s better that way.”
Another peculiar aspect of “Doomsday” is how we’re supposed to look upon the insiders’ regression and be appalled and disgusted by their downward spiral toward animalism; all the while, the reality is, we are sitting in a theater, paying to watch this for entertainment. That’s funny to me.
Yes, “Doomsday” is cheerfully violent, intending to turn gruesome bloodiness into attempts at humor. It’s supposed to be gross and funny simultaneously. “Doomsday” is the kind of movie that destroys various animals, has tanks (from the year 2035) that can be set on fire, has human body parts flying everywhere — even hitting the camera; and yet — and yet, there’s also a huge castle that has a “gift shop,” no less.
I don’t know why they’re re-making “Escape From New York” again for 2009; we’ve been there, done that, already this year. But if they do, I hope it’s better than this “Doomsday” train wreck. Grandpa Olson’s multi-flavored cereal was much easier to swallow.
Directed by Neil Marshall
Rhona Mitra / Craig Conway / Bob Hoskins
Action / Sci-Fi 105 min.
MPAA: R (for strong bloody violence, language and some sexual content/nudity)
U.S. Release Date: March 14, 2008
Copyright 2008: 258
O Excellent
O Rental
O OK
X Mediocrity
O Avoid
Review by Jason Pyles / March 14, 2008
My Grandpa Olson had no qualms with combining several kinds of cereal in the same bowl of milk. He probably would have gotten along just fine with the makers of “Doomsday,” a hodgepodge mess of a movie that’s got more identity problems than Jason Bourne.
Here’s what I think happened, as near as I can tell: A bunch of movie execs were probably standing around the studio lot one day and noticed an overabundance of punk-rocker outfits, knights’ costumes and other assorted, unrelated materials, and said, “Let’s just use this stuff we already have and make a movie.”
And so we have a “Franken-film,” assembled from recycled props and borrowed plots that we readily recognize as “Escape From New York” (1981), “Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome” (1985), “Aliens” (1986), “First Knight” (1995), “The Siege” (1998), “Gladiator” (2000), “28 Weeks Later” (2007), “Resident Evil: Extinction” (2007), “I Am Legend” (2007), and last but not least, a blatant, unmistakable car commercial for the Bentley Continental GT. In one scene, this movie even seems to be channeling vaudeville.
“Doomsday” opens in our present day, April 2008, in Glasgow, where a heinous virus quickly becomes an epidemic. The “Reaper Virus,” presumably named after “the Grim Reaper,” changes its victims into zombie-like maniacs (“28 Weeks Later”), a development that leads to the swift implementation of martial law (“The Siege”). Scotland is placed under quarantine. A narrator tells us that people are instructed to stay in their homes and wait it out, which is basically a death sentence.
Somehow, a gigantic, 30-foot-high wall is constructed impossibly fast, encircling the infected region, cutting Britain in half. The government seals the entire perimeter, leaving the problematic inhabitants in containment (“Escape From New York”). And, of course, the wall is not passable, in or out, because it’s equipped with watchtower gunmen, living and automated, that fire upon any prospective escapees.
Years pass, and we’re told it’s the year 2035. Inside the wall, social order has decayed, and the survivors have become cannibalistic savages. Outside, the Reaper Virus breaks out again, threatening to overcome the population (“I Am Legend”). But over the years, a military satellite has enabled the outsiders to spy on those imprisoned within the wall. Somehow the people inside have survived; they obviously found a cure.
The powers that be, which include the prime minister, wish to retrieve the cure from the insiders. So they send a combat-savvy Department of Domestic Security agent, Eden Sinclair (Rhona Mitra), with some over-confident special-agent grunts (“Aliens”), into the interior to recover the cure. And they only have 48 hours, or London will be unsalvageable. Naturally, the uncivilized insiders have violent resentment toward those who left them for dead; and the last thing they want to do is help out by handing over a cure. The hostile interior, by the way, is divided up into two bizarre groups: mohawk-biker-Dreadnock-lookin’ ruffians and, well, knights (“Mad Max,” “Gladiator,” “First Knight”). Yes, knights, as in, “of the Round Table.”
Major Eden Sinclair is more or less Milla Jovovich’s Alice character from the “Resident Evil” movies. She’s tough, cynical, and a little too cocky. At one point before entering the enclosed region, Sinclair is warned about the cannibals and rapists and how there will be no rules and no back-up. To which she flippantly responds, “It’s better that way.”
Another peculiar aspect of “Doomsday” is how we’re supposed to look upon the insiders’ regression and be appalled and disgusted by their downward spiral toward animalism; all the while, the reality is, we are sitting in a theater, paying to watch this for entertainment. That’s funny to me.
Yes, “Doomsday” is cheerfully violent, intending to turn gruesome bloodiness into attempts at humor. It’s supposed to be gross and funny simultaneously. “Doomsday” is the kind of movie that destroys various animals, has tanks (from the year 2035) that can be set on fire, has human body parts flying everywhere — even hitting the camera; and yet — and yet, there’s also a huge castle that has a “gift shop,” no less.
I don’t know why they’re re-making “Escape From New York” again for 2009; we’ve been there, done that, already this year. But if they do, I hope it’s better than this “Doomsday” train wreck. Grandpa Olson’s multi-flavored cereal was much easier to swallow.
Directed by Neil Marshall
Rhona Mitra / Craig Conway / Bob Hoskins
Action / Sci-Fi 105 min.
MPAA: R (for strong bloody violence, language and some sexual content/nudity)
U.S. Release Date: March 14, 2008
Copyright 2008: 258
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
College Road Trip (2008)
O Masterpiece
O Excellent
O Rental
X OK
O Mediocrity
O Avoid
Review by Jason Pyles / March 12, 2008
Though he’s over-protective and controlling, James Porter (Martin Lawrence) is a good father who finally has to come to terms with something he’s dreaded for 17 years: His little girl is growing up. Perplexed by how quickly the years have passed, he wonders, ‘Where does the time go?’ and we can’t help but suspect that Lawrence, who has a daughter of his own, isn’t just an actor delivering a line.
The time has come for Porter’s college-bound daughter, Melanie (Raven-Symoné), to head off for some higher education. Dad has always planned for her to attend Northwestern University, which is only 40 miles from their Chicago home. But Melanie has her eye on Georgetown University in Washington, D.C. Soon the daddy-daughter debate spills over into a weekend road trip, a proverbial college tour. Several surprises pop up along their adventure, including one painfully over-the-top Donny Osmond.
Martin Lawrence is an excellent actor. Excellent. His dramatic talents are often overlooked for his comedic abilities. But watch and be impressed as he pulls off genuine, and happy, two difficult emotions to portray convincingly. (Ever try to fake happiness over an unwanted gift? It’s tough.) I’d love to see what Lawrence could do in a serious dramatic role. Comedians often migrate to drama: Jim Carrey, Robin Williams. If Lawrence ever tries it, I’d bet you money he’d nail it. Mark my words.
“College Road Trip,” a Walt Disney Production, is a true family film, as opposed to these cloaked PG-13-jobs parading as PG movies. “College Road Trip” is admirably clean, and it doesn’t sink to the crass, gross-out humor prevalent in many recent, dimwitted comedies.
In fact, there’s something for just about everybody. For the younger kids, we get intermittent, animated maps, showing us the distance between the Porter home and various colleges; and there’s also Albert, a “Houdini pig” whose recurring antics should keep little viewers enthralled. (Oh, and to give an example of the movie’s innocence, at one point the pig is “under the influence” of a substance; but it’s not beer or illegal drugs, it’s caffeine from coffee beans.)
For the teens there’s a decent soundtrack that features some hip tunes here and there, such as “Double-dutch Bus.” (It sounds better than it sounds.) Also, Melanie and her friends are your typical teenage girls, exhibiting typical teenage-girl humor.
And for the adults, “College Road Trip” offers a surprising number of reflective moments that will resonate with parents. These are ingenious insertions, because as we parents look at our smiling kids and think about the day they’ll be leaving the nest, we’re immediately grateful to be sitting through such silliness … with them.
Directed by Roger Kumble
Martin Lawrence / Raven-Symoné / Eshaya Draper
Comedy / Family 83 min.
MPAA: G
U.S. Release Date: March 7, 2008
Copyright 2008: 257
O Excellent
O Rental
X OK
O Mediocrity
O Avoid
Review by Jason Pyles / March 12, 2008
Though he’s over-protective and controlling, James Porter (Martin Lawrence) is a good father who finally has to come to terms with something he’s dreaded for 17 years: His little girl is growing up. Perplexed by how quickly the years have passed, he wonders, ‘Where does the time go?’ and we can’t help but suspect that Lawrence, who has a daughter of his own, isn’t just an actor delivering a line.
The time has come for Porter’s college-bound daughter, Melanie (Raven-Symoné), to head off for some higher education. Dad has always planned for her to attend Northwestern University, which is only 40 miles from their Chicago home. But Melanie has her eye on Georgetown University in Washington, D.C. Soon the daddy-daughter debate spills over into a weekend road trip, a proverbial college tour. Several surprises pop up along their adventure, including one painfully over-the-top Donny Osmond.
Martin Lawrence is an excellent actor. Excellent. His dramatic talents are often overlooked for his comedic abilities. But watch and be impressed as he pulls off genuine, and happy, two difficult emotions to portray convincingly. (Ever try to fake happiness over an unwanted gift? It’s tough.) I’d love to see what Lawrence could do in a serious dramatic role. Comedians often migrate to drama: Jim Carrey, Robin Williams. If Lawrence ever tries it, I’d bet you money he’d nail it. Mark my words.
“College Road Trip,” a Walt Disney Production, is a true family film, as opposed to these cloaked PG-13-jobs parading as PG movies. “College Road Trip” is admirably clean, and it doesn’t sink to the crass, gross-out humor prevalent in many recent, dimwitted comedies.
In fact, there’s something for just about everybody. For the younger kids, we get intermittent, animated maps, showing us the distance between the Porter home and various colleges; and there’s also Albert, a “Houdini pig” whose recurring antics should keep little viewers enthralled. (Oh, and to give an example of the movie’s innocence, at one point the pig is “under the influence” of a substance; but it’s not beer or illegal drugs, it’s caffeine from coffee beans.)
For the teens there’s a decent soundtrack that features some hip tunes here and there, such as “Double-dutch Bus.” (It sounds better than it sounds.) Also, Melanie and her friends are your typical teenage girls, exhibiting typical teenage-girl humor.
And for the adults, “College Road Trip” offers a surprising number of reflective moments that will resonate with parents. These are ingenious insertions, because as we parents look at our smiling kids and think about the day they’ll be leaving the nest, we’re immediately grateful to be sitting through such silliness … with them.
Directed by Roger Kumble
Martin Lawrence / Raven-Symoné / Eshaya Draper
Comedy / Family 83 min.
MPAA: G
U.S. Release Date: March 7, 2008
Copyright 2008: 257
Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day (2008)
O Masterpiece
O Excellent
X Rental
O OK
O Mediocrity
O Avoid
Review by Jason Pyles / March 12, 2008
“Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day” is an endearing comedy for adults, after the manner of magical nanny movies, except Miss Pettigrew is neither magical nor a nanny. She’s a social secretary … kind of.
Great Britain is on the brink of entering a fray called World War II. In the midst of the wartime worry, Guinevere Pettigrew (Frances McDormand) works for Miss Holt’s Employment Agency, presumably as a housekeeper or an all-purpose assistant to London’s wealthiest, snootiest residents.
But Pettigrew’s poverty and down-to-earth demeanor prove problematic, so Miss Holt (Stephanie Cole) fires her. On the way out the door, Pettigrew swipes one last assignment for a client named Delysia Lafosse (Amy Adams).
Lafosse is in desperate need of a social secretary. She is a loveable tart whose ambitious wants are typically provided by fulfilling her suitors’ “needs.” Yes, her schedule can hardly accommodate her promiscuity, as she often double- and triple- books her part-time lovers and full-time fiend.
The fiend is her boss, Nick (Mark Strong), who owns the Scarlet Peacock, the nightclub where Lafosse sings, as her true love, Michael (Lee Pace), accompanies her on the piano. But Lafosse is an aspiring actress who desperately desires to land the lead role in a musical called “Pile on the Pepper,” which will be playing at The Ambassador Theatre, owned by the father of her third beau, Phil (Tom Payne).
Having helplessly fallen into the madness, Pettigrew develops an uncanny knack for being a social secretary. She skillfully navigates her new client through her advantageous love-life. Zaniness erupts as Pettigrew’s wicked web is woven around Lafosse’s wily wishes.
Amy Adams’ Delysia Lafosse character is very much like her ditzy, bright-eyed Giselle from “Enchanted,” except she’s no innocent princess this time. And Frances McDormand illustrates acting versatility when comparing her performance as Miss Pettigrew with her performance as Marge Gunderson in “Fargo” (1996).
And though the two actresses’ shared screen-time is the intended pleasure of the film, the best actors’ duets take place when McDormand is onscreen with Ciarán Hinds, who plays Joe, a women’s lingerie designer. There is a brief, performance-perfect moment when the two discuss their dread of the oncoming war because of their memories from the first one.
“Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day” is well done. It’s the kind of movie whose characters say “jeepers” and cheerfully ends with “The End.” With its fast-paced dialogue and rapid plot developments, it neatly transpires within a 24-hour period of time. And its occasional, 360-degree swirling shots make its cinematography noteworthy, as well.
But “Miss Pettigrew” is not a family film, as some seem to think. Its partial nudity, which presents both a male and a female backside, and its pervasive innuendo make it a movie the kids should probably skip, even though much of it would be over their heads. And despite the film’s undeniable delightfulness, “Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day” is a perfectly fine viewing choice for a rental, but it’s not necessary to catch it in the theater.
Directed by Bharat Nalluri
Frances McDormand / Amy Adams / Ciarán Hinds
Comedy 92 min.
MPAA: PG-13 (for some partial nudity and innuendo)
U.S. Release Date: March 7, 2008
Copyright 2008: 256
O Excellent
X Rental
O OK
O Mediocrity
O Avoid
Review by Jason Pyles / March 12, 2008
“Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day” is an endearing comedy for adults, after the manner of magical nanny movies, except Miss Pettigrew is neither magical nor a nanny. She’s a social secretary … kind of.
Great Britain is on the brink of entering a fray called World War II. In the midst of the wartime worry, Guinevere Pettigrew (Frances McDormand) works for Miss Holt’s Employment Agency, presumably as a housekeeper or an all-purpose assistant to London’s wealthiest, snootiest residents.
But Pettigrew’s poverty and down-to-earth demeanor prove problematic, so Miss Holt (Stephanie Cole) fires her. On the way out the door, Pettigrew swipes one last assignment for a client named Delysia Lafosse (Amy Adams).
Lafosse is in desperate need of a social secretary. She is a loveable tart whose ambitious wants are typically provided by fulfilling her suitors’ “needs.” Yes, her schedule can hardly accommodate her promiscuity, as she often double- and triple- books her part-time lovers and full-time fiend.
The fiend is her boss, Nick (Mark Strong), who owns the Scarlet Peacock, the nightclub where Lafosse sings, as her true love, Michael (Lee Pace), accompanies her on the piano. But Lafosse is an aspiring actress who desperately desires to land the lead role in a musical called “Pile on the Pepper,” which will be playing at The Ambassador Theatre, owned by the father of her third beau, Phil (Tom Payne).
Having helplessly fallen into the madness, Pettigrew develops an uncanny knack for being a social secretary. She skillfully navigates her new client through her advantageous love-life. Zaniness erupts as Pettigrew’s wicked web is woven around Lafosse’s wily wishes.
Amy Adams’ Delysia Lafosse character is very much like her ditzy, bright-eyed Giselle from “Enchanted,” except she’s no innocent princess this time. And Frances McDormand illustrates acting versatility when comparing her performance as Miss Pettigrew with her performance as Marge Gunderson in “Fargo” (1996).
And though the two actresses’ shared screen-time is the intended pleasure of the film, the best actors’ duets take place when McDormand is onscreen with Ciarán Hinds, who plays Joe, a women’s lingerie designer. There is a brief, performance-perfect moment when the two discuss their dread of the oncoming war because of their memories from the first one.
“Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day” is well done. It’s the kind of movie whose characters say “jeepers” and cheerfully ends with “The End.” With its fast-paced dialogue and rapid plot developments, it neatly transpires within a 24-hour period of time. And its occasional, 360-degree swirling shots make its cinematography noteworthy, as well.
But “Miss Pettigrew” is not a family film, as some seem to think. Its partial nudity, which presents both a male and a female backside, and its pervasive innuendo make it a movie the kids should probably skip, even though much of it would be over their heads. And despite the film’s undeniable delightfulness, “Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day” is a perfectly fine viewing choice for a rental, but it’s not necessary to catch it in the theater.
Directed by Bharat Nalluri
Frances McDormand / Amy Adams / Ciarán Hinds
Comedy 92 min.
MPAA: PG-13 (for some partial nudity and innuendo)
U.S. Release Date: March 7, 2008
Copyright 2008: 256
The Bank Job (2008)
O Masterpiece
O Excellent
X Rental
O OK
O Mediocrity
O Avoid
Review by Jason Pyles / March 12, 2008
Our fascination with the heist movie may be easily explainable. Perhaps it’s merely used as an “ideological safety valve,” a way to release our pent-up desires to indulge in something forbidden, such as bank robbery. Perhaps it’s our tendency to root for the underdog, seeing the little guy “stick it to The Man” by beating The System. Or perhaps heist movies are just fun. Such is the case with “The Bank Job,” a heist movie based on a true story.
The film opens in 1970, in the Caribbean, where some young people are enjoying a naughty pool party, then an even naughtier, more-the-merrier bedroom party, while unwittingly being snapped by a stealthy photographer. Either the photographer is an opportunistic perv, or he’s gathering blackmailing materials. It’s the latter.
Next we learn we’re in East London, 1971, where our lusty story unfolds. Michael X (Peter De Jersey) is a slumlord, a drug dealer and a vicious killer. He is on his way to court to face a slam-dunk conviction for kidnapping and extortion, but he’s got some sultry Get-Out-of-Jail-Free cards: Michael X happens to be that same stealthy photographer who has damning photos of someone who turns out to be royalty, namely young, frisky, Princess Margaret (Louise Chambers). And as long as Michael X has these photos in his possession, he’s untouchable.
But MI5 (a lofty, United Kingdom security agency similar to the FBI or CIA) desperately wants to lock up Michael X and destroy the royal, pornographic portraits. Wishing to avoid potential scandal-by-association, MI5 muscles a shady lady (Saffron Burrows) to commission her criminal acquaintances to rob the safety-deposit boxes at Lloyd Bank where Michael X’s x-rated princess pictures are kept. This is where Jason Statham comes in.
All of this is merely set-up for the real story, which is how Terry (Statham) and his friends plan to tunnel into the bank and retrieve its riches, but they unknowingly unlock multiple Pandora’s boxes. Yes, it seems that several sensitive items belonging to powerful people in London are stored at this very bank. “The Bank Job” becomes increasingly entertaining as we watch our robbers’ escalating peril, because of the contents they steal.
Unlike the slick-looking, flawlessly executed “Italian Job” (2003) and “Ocean’s” movies, “The Bank Job” has an air of authenticity. It seems like regular people, like you and me, trying to pull off a bank job, complete with unlucky snags and human incompetence. Much of this movie appears as though it could actually happen, and indeed, it supposedly did.
Apparently, some people just can’t settle for ideological safety valves — and thank goodness. Where else would we get the inspiration for all our heist movies?
Directed by Roger Donaldson
Jason Statham / Saffron Burrows / Peter De Jersey
Action / Adventure 110 min.
MPAA: R (for sexual content, nudity, violence and language)
U.S. Release Date: March 7, 2008
Copyright 2008: 255
O Excellent
X Rental
O OK
O Mediocrity
O Avoid
Review by Jason Pyles / March 12, 2008
Our fascination with the heist movie may be easily explainable. Perhaps it’s merely used as an “ideological safety valve,” a way to release our pent-up desires to indulge in something forbidden, such as bank robbery. Perhaps it’s our tendency to root for the underdog, seeing the little guy “stick it to The Man” by beating The System. Or perhaps heist movies are just fun. Such is the case with “The Bank Job,” a heist movie based on a true story.
The film opens in 1970, in the Caribbean, where some young people are enjoying a naughty pool party, then an even naughtier, more-the-merrier bedroom party, while unwittingly being snapped by a stealthy photographer. Either the photographer is an opportunistic perv, or he’s gathering blackmailing materials. It’s the latter.
Next we learn we’re in East London, 1971, where our lusty story unfolds. Michael X (Peter De Jersey) is a slumlord, a drug dealer and a vicious killer. He is on his way to court to face a slam-dunk conviction for kidnapping and extortion, but he’s got some sultry Get-Out-of-Jail-Free cards: Michael X happens to be that same stealthy photographer who has damning photos of someone who turns out to be royalty, namely young, frisky, Princess Margaret (Louise Chambers). And as long as Michael X has these photos in his possession, he’s untouchable.
But MI5 (a lofty, United Kingdom security agency similar to the FBI or CIA) desperately wants to lock up Michael X and destroy the royal, pornographic portraits. Wishing to avoid potential scandal-by-association, MI5 muscles a shady lady (Saffron Burrows) to commission her criminal acquaintances to rob the safety-deposit boxes at Lloyd Bank where Michael X’s x-rated princess pictures are kept. This is where Jason Statham comes in.
All of this is merely set-up for the real story, which is how Terry (Statham) and his friends plan to tunnel into the bank and retrieve its riches, but they unknowingly unlock multiple Pandora’s boxes. Yes, it seems that several sensitive items belonging to powerful people in London are stored at this very bank. “The Bank Job” becomes increasingly entertaining as we watch our robbers’ escalating peril, because of the contents they steal.
Unlike the slick-looking, flawlessly executed “Italian Job” (2003) and “Ocean’s” movies, “The Bank Job” has an air of authenticity. It seems like regular people, like you and me, trying to pull off a bank job, complete with unlucky snags and human incompetence. Much of this movie appears as though it could actually happen, and indeed, it supposedly did.
Apparently, some people just can’t settle for ideological safety valves — and thank goodness. Where else would we get the inspiration for all our heist movies?
Directed by Roger Donaldson
Jason Statham / Saffron Burrows / Peter De Jersey
Action / Adventure 110 min.
MPAA: R (for sexual content, nudity, violence and language)
U.S. Release Date: March 7, 2008
Copyright 2008: 255
Friday, March 7, 2008
10,000 B.C. (2008)
O Masterpiece
O Excellent
O Rental
X OK
O Mediocrity
O Avoid
Review by Jason Pyles / March 7, 2008
Watching “10,000 B.C.” is akin to watching your 3rd grader stunt-doubling for a tree in the school play: You perk up for a couple brief, fleeting moments when your kid’s on stage; and when your little, felled coniferous “exeunts,” you return to sawing logs.
Just in case you think I’m exaggerating, I kept writing the word “boring” in my notes throughout my screening of “10,000 B.C.” And precisely when I wondered if I was being unfair, I heard the guy beside me start snoring. To be clear, as you observe my rating scale above, I’ve rated this movie as merely “OK,” which is found beneath “Rental.” … Beneath rental.
Director of epics but rarely an epic director, Roland Emmerich, the same filmmaker who gave us “Independence Day” (1996), “Godzilla” (1998), and “The Patriot” (2000), whisks us back in time to a prehistoric land. Unfortunately, we’ve seen this same movie and its identical story (done much better) just two years ago. It was called “Apocalypto” (2006). The plots are so parallel, Emmerich’s movie borders on copyright infringement.
Both films are essentially long chase scenes. Both films begin with their tribes’ young men on a hunt. Both films’ tribes are attacked by another ferocious tribe. Both films have forlorn, bewildered heroes trailing behind their kidnapped tribe members. Both films have a surprisingly helpful big cat. Both films have a huge, abominable city, complete with pyramids and human sacrifices. Both films have supernatural events surrounding their heroes. Both films are not, however, equal: “10,000 B.C.” could rightly be called “the poor man’s ‘Apocalypto,’” or “the caveman’s ‘Apocalypto,’” which is to say, “so easy even a caveman could do it.”
The best part of “10,000 B.C.” is what will draw most people to the theater: the woolly mammoths. Some people might call them mastodons, but there is a difference. I don’t know what that difference is, but it really doesn’t matter since both kinds are dead. During one peculiar moment, we see a close-up shot of a mammoth stomping past the screen and the camera shakes. This struck me as strange because the audience perspective in this film is typically third-person omniscient-observer (occasionally subjective point-of-view); but for that moment, the filmmakers’ rule for this movie is broken and the camera crew is apparently there documenting the stampeding elephants.
“10,000 B.C.” has some intended humor, but most of its funniest moments are unintended. For instance, it’s odd that the other tribes speak some strange tongue that is either conveniently translated by some remarkably bright, bilingual, prehistoric person; or we are given subtitles. But our tribe, yes, the one we’re supposed to identify with, speaks English. Puzzling. What year is it, again? Anyway, Emmerich obviously knows that we’d rather have modern English dialogue, such as, “We must ‘bring them down,’” rather than have an air of authenticity with another language, like we had in, say, “Apocalypto.”
There are other humorous elements. Many scenes are cross-cut back to “Old Mother” (Mona Hammond), the protagonist tribe’s mysterious sage who experiences the travelers’ unpleasant encounters vicariously. But these scenes play more like some “Abbot & Costello Meet the Voodoo People” episode. Also, at one point the lead character, D’Leh (Steven Strait), chats with a blind man who has an unusual manner of speaking, which sounds like a drunken Mike-Tyson impersonator.
“10,000 B.C.” gives proper attention to two small details: Its weary travelers become hungry (as weary travelers often do), and its fair lady, Evolet (Camilla Belle), has thick eyebrows, unlike the carefully tweezed eyebrows worn by modern-day gals. But despite such careful considerations, “10,000 B.C.” looks artificial like the over-polished CGI epic that it is. Because of the apparent hard work that went into making this film, I couldn’t rate it as “Mediocrity,” because it isn’t.
The primary offense, however, that will make the soon-to-be extinct “10,000 B.C.” ancient history at the box office is its pacing. The movie frequently slows down to a grinding halt, magnifying its focus for intimate character development. The problem is, the characters are flat and familiar, the developments don’t really matter, and we don’t really care. Did I mention this movie is boring?
If you’re left with nothing else to do, and you’re tempted to rent “10,000 B.C.,” I might recommend doing a quick check for 3rd grade stage productions first.
Directed by Roland Emmerich
Steven Strait / Camilla Belle / Cliff Curtis
Action / Adventure 109 min.
MPAA: PG-13 (for sequences of intense action and violence)
U.S. Release Date: March 7, 2008
Copyright 2008: 254
O Excellent
O Rental
X OK
O Mediocrity
O Avoid
Review by Jason Pyles / March 7, 2008
Watching “10,000 B.C.” is akin to watching your 3rd grader stunt-doubling for a tree in the school play: You perk up for a couple brief, fleeting moments when your kid’s on stage; and when your little, felled coniferous “exeunts,” you return to sawing logs.
Just in case you think I’m exaggerating, I kept writing the word “boring” in my notes throughout my screening of “10,000 B.C.” And precisely when I wondered if I was being unfair, I heard the guy beside me start snoring. To be clear, as you observe my rating scale above, I’ve rated this movie as merely “OK,” which is found beneath “Rental.” … Beneath rental.
Director of epics but rarely an epic director, Roland Emmerich, the same filmmaker who gave us “Independence Day” (1996), “Godzilla” (1998), and “The Patriot” (2000), whisks us back in time to a prehistoric land. Unfortunately, we’ve seen this same movie and its identical story (done much better) just two years ago. It was called “Apocalypto” (2006). The plots are so parallel, Emmerich’s movie borders on copyright infringement.
Both films are essentially long chase scenes. Both films begin with their tribes’ young men on a hunt. Both films’ tribes are attacked by another ferocious tribe. Both films have forlorn, bewildered heroes trailing behind their kidnapped tribe members. Both films have a surprisingly helpful big cat. Both films have a huge, abominable city, complete with pyramids and human sacrifices. Both films have supernatural events surrounding their heroes. Both films are not, however, equal: “10,000 B.C.” could rightly be called “the poor man’s ‘Apocalypto,’” or “the caveman’s ‘Apocalypto,’” which is to say, “so easy even a caveman could do it.”
The best part of “10,000 B.C.” is what will draw most people to the theater: the woolly mammoths. Some people might call them mastodons, but there is a difference. I don’t know what that difference is, but it really doesn’t matter since both kinds are dead. During one peculiar moment, we see a close-up shot of a mammoth stomping past the screen and the camera shakes. This struck me as strange because the audience perspective in this film is typically third-person omniscient-observer (occasionally subjective point-of-view); but for that moment, the filmmakers’ rule for this movie is broken and the camera crew is apparently there documenting the stampeding elephants.
“10,000 B.C.” has some intended humor, but most of its funniest moments are unintended. For instance, it’s odd that the other tribes speak some strange tongue that is either conveniently translated by some remarkably bright, bilingual, prehistoric person; or we are given subtitles. But our tribe, yes, the one we’re supposed to identify with, speaks English. Puzzling. What year is it, again? Anyway, Emmerich obviously knows that we’d rather have modern English dialogue, such as, “We must ‘bring them down,’” rather than have an air of authenticity with another language, like we had in, say, “Apocalypto.”
There are other humorous elements. Many scenes are cross-cut back to “Old Mother” (Mona Hammond), the protagonist tribe’s mysterious sage who experiences the travelers’ unpleasant encounters vicariously. But these scenes play more like some “Abbot & Costello Meet the Voodoo People” episode. Also, at one point the lead character, D’Leh (Steven Strait), chats with a blind man who has an unusual manner of speaking, which sounds like a drunken Mike-Tyson impersonator.
“10,000 B.C.” gives proper attention to two small details: Its weary travelers become hungry (as weary travelers often do), and its fair lady, Evolet (Camilla Belle), has thick eyebrows, unlike the carefully tweezed eyebrows worn by modern-day gals. But despite such careful considerations, “10,000 B.C.” looks artificial like the over-polished CGI epic that it is. Because of the apparent hard work that went into making this film, I couldn’t rate it as “Mediocrity,” because it isn’t.
The primary offense, however, that will make the soon-to-be extinct “10,000 B.C.” ancient history at the box office is its pacing. The movie frequently slows down to a grinding halt, magnifying its focus for intimate character development. The problem is, the characters are flat and familiar, the developments don’t really matter, and we don’t really care. Did I mention this movie is boring?
If you’re left with nothing else to do, and you’re tempted to rent “10,000 B.C.,” I might recommend doing a quick check for 3rd grade stage productions first.
Directed by Roland Emmerich
Steven Strait / Camilla Belle / Cliff Curtis
Action / Adventure 109 min.
MPAA: PG-13 (for sequences of intense action and violence)
U.S. Release Date: March 7, 2008
Copyright 2008: 254
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