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Posted : 4 months, 1 week ago on 28 July 2009 07:16
(A review of Army of One)
"You can open the safe with your balls or without 'em."
For fervent action buffs, Joshua Tree (also known as Army of One) is a definite must-see - it stars action icon Dolph Lundgren, and it's directed by legendary stunt coordinator Vic Armstrong. It's a breathless exercise in hardcore action violence, and it moves at such an exhilarating pace that its stupidity and conventionality can be easily overlooked for the sake of entertainment.
In Joshua Tree, the Dolphster plays former race car driver Wellman Santee. With his racing days long behind him, Santee's livelihood is now transporting exotic stolen cars. During a run-in with the police, however, his partner (Foree) is killed along with a highway police officer in a shootout, and Santee is framed for the policeman's murder. But while being transferred to prison, Santee escapes. He abducts a young woman named Rita (Alfonso), unaware that his hostage is actually a deputy sheriff. What ensues is a variety of action sequences as Santee struggles to clear his name.
Logic is disposed of fairly quickly into this feature (as is any sense of originality). For instance Rita looks surprisingly calm considering she has been kidnapped. She's also given endless opportunities to escape or turn the tables on her abductor, but she rarely capitalises on these opportunities. There's also the fact that police officers are unable to shoot properly (despite, you know, being trained to use firearms). During an encounter with Chinese gangsters at one stage in the film, cliché after cliché is doled out - the gangsters are incompetent shooters while Santee is a perfect marksman, and guns even run out of bullets at the most convenient of times. Stupidity really kicks in when the climax comes around. Said climax features a series of brutal hand-to-hand combat battles, but the combatants never succumb to any serious harm despite being pounded with fists and inanimate objects continuously. Some of the protagonists are shot too, but bullets don't seem to faze them. However, as these things are virtually unwritten requirements for action films of the '80s and '90s, they're somewhat forgivable.
Joshua Tree was written by Steve Pressfield, who had previously penned the Steven Seagal vehicle Above the Law. Pressfield takes a formulaic tale of dirty cops and a man out for revenge, and constructs a fairly involving narrative. The trajectory of the plotline is the very definition of predictability, but it's the action and the decent dialogue that hold our interest. Plus, we've come here to see the Dolphster kicking some butt...and in this respect, it delivers in spades! Another unwritten law for action films is one-liners - since a lot of actioners are hilariously ridiculous and tongue-in-cheek, humour is often employed to match the tone. Screenwriter Pressfield delivers in this aspect too.
With renowned stuntman and action director Vic Armstrong at the helm (a man who handled the stunts for the Indiana Jones films, a lot of the James Bond films, Starship Troopers, Patriot Games and Universal Soldier, just to name a few), one can expect Joshua Tree to deliver oodles of satisfying action, which it does! Armstrong delivers breathtaking, over-the-top action set-pieces, ranging from a John Woo-esque shootout in a warehouse to a high-octane car chase featuring a Ferrari and a Lamborghini. Blood squibs explode left, right and centre...this is an unapologetic R-rated action film. To top everything off, Joel Goldsmith has provided a terrific score - it features atmospheric background music for the quiet sections, and chest-thumping music for the action. But the editing is occasionally very choppy, and there are a number of technical faults in general.
Due to the excessive violence of Armstrong's directorial debut, the censors went bonkers and the film was edited down for a number of countries (like Britain, where it still received an '18' rating even after the graphic violence was toned down). Bizarrely, three different endings exist for this flick. Unfortunately (as of 2009), the version of the film containing the best ending (which wraps up everything) is yet to be released on any format (be it DVD or Blu-ray).
Dolph Lundgren earned his chops as an action star after his appearance in Rocky IV opposite Sylvester Stallone. Although Lundgren never truly acts much during the film (he merely says lines instead of meaning them), he's perfect for the role of Santee - he has the physique of an action hero, and he knows his way around an action sequence. Best of all, he's competent enough to hold our interest. Alongside the Dolphster is the duo of George Segal and Beau Starr as the main villains of the picture. It's easy to hate these guys, which makes Santee's plight easier to sympathise with. And as the trademark woman of the picture with the perfect body, there's Kristian Alfonso. Naturally, her character gets naked at one point (laughably gratuitous) and she ends up becoming the Dolphster's love interest.
At the end of the day, Joshua Tree is just a disposable '90s actioner that remains essential viewing for genre aficionados. This ain't anything groundbreaking, but it's definitely an entertaining distraction best enjoyed when the thinking side of your brain craves a rest.
5.7/10
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Posted : 4 months, 2 weeks ago on 19 July 2009 04:52
(A review of District B13)
"You should've chosen my sister. You're already dead."
District B13 is unadulterated action porn. It's a series of kinetic action sequences tied together by an incidental plot and a forgettable script. Directed by Pierre Morel and produced by French super-producer Luc Besson, this is an adrenaline-pumping blast from start to finish that's loaded with style, wit and jaw-dropping acts of physical prowess - and although it's light on plot, it never slows down to let viewers notice. For those unaware, Luc Besson has produced an array of satisfying action films, ranging from the Transporter series to Jet Li vehicles (Kiss of the Dragon and Unleashed, for instance). If you're familiar with the aforementioned movies, you should know precisely what to expect from District B13 (originally titled Banlieue 13). For genre fans seeking solid entertainment, Besson has served up another spry, sleek winner.
The future of Paris envisioned in District B13 sees the worst districts surrounded by isolation walls, effectively cutting off all inhabitants of these areas from the rest of society and keeping the crime rates under control. The denizens of these slums are forced to live without education, proper utilities and police protection. The main story takes place in the 13th district during 2010, and a stolen neutron bomb is in the possession of the district's most powerful drug lord: Taha (Naceri). An undercover police officer named Damien (Raffaelli) is tasked with the assignment of finding the stolen nuclear weapon which will detonate in 24 hours. To be his guide inside the most volatile section of Paris, Damien recruits a man named Leito (Belle) who has his own score to settle with Taha.
District B13 is merely a torrent of action sequences tightly packed into an 85-minute runtime. It doesn't take long for the film to kick into high gear, and once the action begins it only occasionally lets up for brief scenes of exposition. There's not a boring moment at any point during the film as it throttles forward at breakneck pace from one high-flying action scene to the next. Better yet, the death-defying stunts were done primarily without the aid of wires or CGI. And unlike their Hollywood counterparts, French filmmakers know how to shoot and edit these sequences. They don't rely on close-ups or shaky cam, nor are these scenes over-edited to the point of indecipherability.
For the film's opening sequence, David Belle employs his own philosophy of Parkour - i.e. the art of navigating urban spaces quickly and gracefully by overcoming physical obstacles in the quickest and most direct manner possible. The man races across rooftops, slides down railings and crashes through a miniscule window above a door - just to name a few of the eye-popping stunts - as he evades a group of gun-wielding enemies (and it was mainly done for real). But his co-star Cyril Raffaelli is not to be outdone - the former circus acrobat and martial arts champion has plenty of his own moments to shine. Raffaelli's stunts are all about the fighting as he punches and kicks; disarming enemies in the most efficient way possible. Belle and Raffaelli (both of whom had a hand in creating the stunts and action scenes) make an excellent duo. It's during the film's second half that these two stars team up to crack some skulls, and that's when District B13 truly kicks into overdrive.
But the slender screenplay (written by Besson with colleague Bibi Naceri, who also plays Taha) is plagued with contrivances barely acceptable for an action film like this (the reception for Damien's mobile phone when he needs to diffuse the bomb, for instance). The characters are pretty one-dimensional as well.
For those concerned with having to constantly read subtitles (the film is in French), have no fear - District B13 is far from dialogue-driven, and it's simple to follow. Do yourself a favour and check out this incredibly visceral action film in which the on-screen action is dripping with the blood and sweat of real stunt work. The plot can be forgiven as the action is energetic, the athleticism is astonishing and the soundtrack is pulsating. A terrific way to spend 85 minutes!
7.8/10
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Posted : 4 months, 2 weeks ago on 17 July 2009 02:37
(A review of Coraline)
"You probably think this world is a dream come true... but you're wrong."
A screen adaptation of the 2002 novella of the same name by Neil Gaiman, Coraline signals Henry Selick's long-overdue return to the realm of stop-motion animation (after The Nightmare Before Christmas and James and the Giant Peach). In an era dominated by computer-animated movies (courtesy of Pixar, Dreamworks, etc), stop-motion puppeteers are few and far between, which makes Coraline an enchanting breath of fresh air. Better yet, the film doesn't rely on toilet humour, blatant morals or hackneyed plotting. Just like The Nightmare Before Christmas, Selick's latest effort can be absorbed by both kids and adults - kids can admire the luxurious visuals, while adults can absorb the themes and enjoy the scares. Coraline is a gorgeous motion picture, but it lacks substance, and the visuals often overwhelm basic storytelling requirements.
Fundamentally Alice in Wonderland reconfigured for David Lynch fans, this eerie-yet-elegant tale sets its sights on an adventurous young girl named Coraline (voiced by Dakota Fanning). Having moved with her family to a remote apartment building in Oregon (far away from her friends), Coraline is bored with her new home and annoyed by the inattentiveness of her workaholic parents. One day Coraline discovers a hidden door that turns out to be a portal which transports her to a bizarre alternative dimension that contains an idealised version of her home. But the time-honoured cliché applies: if it looks too good to be true, it probably is...
As the animation realm gradually becomes dominated by computers, Henry Selick seems wholly content operating in the world of stop-motion. It's impossible to deny the visual mastery of Coraline when it's a proud member of the stop-motion club; relinquishing routine CG sheen for breathtaking textures and luscious artistry that can be delivered only through this painstaking process. Selick's amazing visual style is almost smooth enough to be mistaken for CGI, but there's a distinctive appearance to this approach that reveals itself as something more laborious. Selick additionally explores Gaiman themes of heroism and magic while furthering his own interest in spooky creatures and surreal Burton-esque production design. Coraline has been tagged with a well-earned PG rating as it definitely falls on the dark side of the fairytale spectrum. It isn't an excessively violent movie, but there are a few intense, frightening scenes.
The plot, while admittedly rather slim, is involving from start to finish, and the narrative trajectory is rather unpredictable in spite of the incorporation of familiar elements. The key problem with Coraline is one of pacing - the story progresses at one pace throughout, and never heats up. Meanwhile (and there's no other way to put it), the film is gorgeously off-putting - a considerable achievement of visual dread. In the end it's pretty blah, yet (even without a story worth telling) the visual panache is compelling.
In a post-WALL-E animation market, a movie must come armed with insight into the world at large. In this respect, Coraline contains solid ruminations on parenting, individuality, and (most brazenly) the bond between mother and daughter. The voice acting is solid as well. Dakota Fanning is unrecognisable yet instantly likeable and boundlessly appealing as the feature's titular character. The rest of the vocal performers are equally unrecognisable. Teri Hatcher has no difficulty with her role as Coraline's two mothers, seemingly channelling the Wicked Witch of the West for her verbal performance as the Other Mother. Ian McShane does solid work as the Russian who runs a mouse circus upstairs, while Jennifer Saunders and Dawn French voice Coraline's strange downstairs neighbours. There's also Keith David as a prophetic black cat who plays a vital role in the story.
Though a few of the more perverse concepts from Neil Gaiman's Coraline novella have been excluded, the author's talent for dark and lively imagery has been translated with gravitas by Henry Selick. Despite a well-worn message (the grass is always greener/be careful what you wish for) and the fact that this enchantment runs out of steam before it ends, Selick's latest project remains a laudable accomplishment in animation and imagination - lean, funny, and entertaining. You don't have to be a child to be enchanted by it.
7.6/10
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Posted : 4 months, 2 weeks ago on 15 July 2009 11:09
(A review of Brüno)
"Vassup?! I'm Brüno!"
A full frontal (excuse the pun) cinematic assault on homophobia and celebrity culture, Brüno gives Sacha Baron Cohen the opportunity to bring another of his misfit characters to the big screen in this follow-up to the hugely successful Borat. After achieving worldwide notoriety with Borat, it'd seem impossible for Cohen to anonymously deceive people with his provocative candid-camera antics once again. But lo and behold - the devilish actor has pulled it off thanks to a fresh new guise, and has found a new group of unsuspecting people to exploit for laughs. Cohen, who seems to have a pathological hate for America, has again proved that the US is indeed home to the dumbest, most screwed-up people on the planet. Brüno is a worthy successor to Borat - it employs a similar tactic of exploiting the idiocy, ignorance, and prejudice present in American society as a form of satire and social commentary while offering scripted comedy and mockumentary-style gags. But that's its only real weaknesses - Borat was so fresh and bizarrely unprecedented, while Brüno feels like more of the same.
As expected, plot is at a minimum as this is just a loosely connected chain of skits that allow the filmmakers to pierce something with their satirical knife (and turn the blade in the wound). The title character, Brüno (Cohen), is a homosexual Austrian fashion reporter whose television show (Funkyzeit) has established him as an icon in fashion circles. But a catastrophic incident at a fashion show leads to Brüno becoming fired, which ruins his reputation. Accompanied only by devoted assistant Lutz (Hammaresten), Brüno travels to America with plans to become "the biggest Austrian superstar since Hitler." The exiled fashionista apes the headline-grabbing antics of stars such as Angelina Jolie and Madonna in his single-minded pursuit for fame.
Brüno doesn't contain a rigid structure - it merely establishes a sense of purpose for our Austrian hero to go fourth and spread his unique brand of cheer. Using the central character's homosexuality as the bayonet on the film's rifle of satire, Brüno is more concerned with provoking violent responses through offensive material than trying to stitch together a coherent feature film. The film eventually sheds all dramatic pretences in order to run free in the fields of Cohen's disconcerting imagination, placing the character in interesting situations of conflict to capture the priceless reactions of unwitting victims. Brüno doesn't just cross the line...it crosses the line, laughs at the line, makes a new line, crosses that line, and then rapes the new line. If the nude wrestling sequence in Borat was too much for you...well, you ain't seen nothing yet.
While the laughs aren't as constant as one would anticipate, Brüno does deliver comedy in spades (as long as you're not easily offended). The feature fails to break new ground for Cohen and his comic impulses, but it certainly gives him welcome room to play. Borat was hardly restrained or in good taste when it came to sexual gags, but the seriously questionable taste of Brüno makes its predecessor seem like a morality play in comparison. Brüno was initially slapped with an NC-17 rating by the MPAA before Cohen removed several minutes in order to acquire an R rating for its theatrical release. But what remains is still incredibly hardcore and disgustingly explicit. Its rating is deserved!
When it comes to the unscripted skits, Sacha Baron Cohen has two primary targets - homophobia and celebrity culture - and he ain't shy about attacking either of them. The film is ripe with excessive homosexual stereotypes, with much of the humour derived from the clueless bystanders' reactions to the flamboyant Brüno.
The novelty factor of Brüno is lessened because the style is no longer fresh. It doesn't help that the film rehashes the basic plot of Borat: a foreign TV personality and his loyal sidekick depart from their homeland and embark upon a quest, along the way exposing the prejudices of the unsuspecting people they encounter. Unfortunately, too, Brüno feels far more manufactured. While the roughness around the edges of the video and audio make everything seem real, it's difficult to subdue the suspicion that some of the victims were primed to perform. In the end, Brüno isn't funny enough either; the juicy belly laughs are few and far between. Cohen usually forces gags instead of allowing the humour to emerge organically.
Sacha Baron Cohen's performance as the homosexual Austrian is expectedly terrific. Like Borat, the man hides behind an unrecognisable screen persona and immerses himself into the role 100%. Cohen is clearly prepared to do an array of preposterous things for the sake of amusing footage. The entire film is just a game of chicken that's played to see how far Sacha Baron Cohen will go to annoy people and get laughs. If the man has limits, none are in evidence. Cohen may have many things - a wife, money, fame and success - but shame is a virtue he doesn't possess.
Look out for cameos from countless celebrities as well, including Harrison Ford (the funniest ten seconds of the movie), Paula Abdul and Ron Paul. During the closing credits, Brüno also records a charity song with such celebrities as Bono, Elton John, Snoop Dog and Sting.
In the long run, Brüno achieves its goal - it provides a social commentary using guerrilla tactics, and it's quite funny. It's narratively structured exactly like its predecessor and it treads similar satirical ground, but it's still enjoyable. Sacha Baron Cohen may be a one trick pony, but he knows how to give an audience (*ahem*) a good ride. Just like Borat, some will praise this film a masterpiece of its genre while others will demonise it as unfunny, offensive pornographic excess. If you're part of the latter camp, I suggest you lighten up.
6.9/10
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Posted : 4 months, 3 weeks ago on 14 July 2009 11:16
(A review of Yes Man)
"The era of "yes" has begun."
More than anything else, Yes Man is an opportunity for Jim Carrey to reclaim his bygone slapstick glory days following a fleeting, unsuccessful venture into drama (The Number 23) and a restrained period in animation (Horton Hears a Who!). Carrey harkens back to his usual tricks here, making us laugh the good old-fashioned way in this screen adaptation of the novel of the same name by satirical writer Danny Wallace (who makes a brief cameo in the film). The primary narrative of Yes Man - a man who decides to change his life by saying "yes" to everything - is more or less a retread of another successful Jim Carrey vehicle: Liar Liar. Unfortunately, too, every plot-related aspect of Yes Man - the construction of the story, the set-up, the pay-off, the conflict and the resolution - is the very definition of predictability. But it's Carrey's oddball performance, the laughs and the genuinely engaging romantic subplot that makes the stale material feel fresh and renewed. This is not a masterpiece by any stretch, but it is a heart-warming, pleasant diversion worth a few hours of your time.
The story tracks a lonely, miserable corporate drone named Carl Allen (Carrey). Due to his depression following a fairly recent divorce, Carl has given up on life and says "no" to every opportunity to do anything apart from sitting in his apartment watching movies and being unhappy. When an old acquaintance (Higgins) urges Carl to attend a seminar, however, he ends up enrolling in a personal development program based on a very simple principal: say "yes" to every opportunity that comes your way. Carl finds his existence transformed, leading to some startling changes. He develops a relationship with a musician/photographer/aerobics instructor named Allison (Deschanel), and is unexpectedly promoted.
Once Carl swallows his pessimism, Yes Man switches into slapstick overdrive, observing the pickles that Carl gets himself into as a "yes man". The challenges he faces range from hilarious (Norman's Harry Potter party) to downright icky (accepting a sexual favour from his elderly neighbour). But eventually the film descends into familiar territory, culminating in an extremely clichéd final act. The laughs come to a dead halt once the narrative becomes trapped in a mundane break-up subplot and Carrey is forced to claw his way out of the trite distraction.
The messages behind Yes Man are simple: get the most out of life, and be nice to your peers. This Jim Carrey vehicle does borrow heavily from a great number of films (not just the aforementioned Liar Liar but also The Bucket List and more or less every generic romantic comedy in recent memory), but there's nothing wrong with borrowing if it works, and Yes Man works pretty well despite a large offering of formula.
Yes Man supplies some big laughs, a few good chuckles, and a bunch of mildly amusing moments. A lot of music is provided by an alternative Pop/Rock group known as the Eels, while some of the songs are performed by Zooey Deschanel and her band in the film (Munchausen by Proxy). The songs are truly excellent here, offering a terrific oddball feel. At the helm of the picture is Peyton Reed who provides plenty of energy and generates a glorious fast pace. Yet the concept of Yes Man provides a serious narrative problem - if saying "yes" to every situation improves Carl's life, there's no conflict. There's some wasted potential here too, let's face it. Carl could have gotten himself into a great number of additional scenarios (like those from Danny Wallace's novel), but disappointingly few are exploited.
For his performance, Carrey is a bit more restrained than usual, and his character comes across as a genuinely likable guy. His rubber face and manic energy are welcome here, with his enthusiasm helping to sell the weaker jokes. After beginning with a few nods to his "old self" (the man we saw throughout most of his '90s output), Carrey settles down to play a straightforward romantic comedy protagonist. Meanwhile the impossibly gorgeous and lovely Zooey Deschanel is the film's secret weapon. She avoids overacting - she's low-key and lets her expressive eyes convey her character's emotions. Her singing voice is also utterly angelic. The success of a romantic comedy depends on the two leads. Fortunately, even despite an 18-year age gap, Deschanel and Carrey have it - the chemistry necessary for the romantic aspect of the movie to gain traction. Their nice chemistry is assisted by Deschanel's disarmingly off-kilter line readings and abundant charisma. The supporting cast is just as good - Rhys Darby is a particular standout as Carl's boss/buddy, while Terence Stamp is terrific during his brief screen-time, and Bradley Cooper does his best with an underwritten best friend role.
Yes Man is an amiable and entertaining feel-good romantic comedy. It never grows tedious, and it's never coated in too much saccharine. The characters are endearing, the premise is intriguing, the laughs are amusing, and it encourages us to get the most out of life. Sometimes that's enough to warrant a recommendation.
6.5/10
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Posted : 4 months, 3 weeks ago on 13 July 2009 10:47
(A review of Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen)
"Fate rarely calls upon us at a moment of our choosing."
Bigger and more overblown in every aspect (except where it's needed), Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen represents Michael Bay at his most unrestrained and confident. Bay and his trio of screenwriters (Ehren Kruger, Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman) have slathered this sequel with unrelenting excess, particularly dumb humour and an overwhelming amount of CGI. There's no coherent story here - just an arbitrary collection of explosions, robot battles and machismo posturing that's tagged with an awkward conclusion. The endless excitement is downright boring: there's no sense of anticipation, no tension, and no downtime...it's on all the time, like being stuck on a bus with a screaming baby. The movie, all 150 goddamn minutes of it, is just an audio-visual assault on all senses (including common) that mimics storytelling without understanding it. With the keen urge to bypass all traces of logic, reason, character development and depth, Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen is an utter mess of an action opus.
Now...the story? Yep, that's horrible as well. Sam Witwicky (LeBeouf) is departing for college, and the Autobots are busily hunting the remaining Decepticons. When Sam conveniently finds a shard of the Allspark in his jumper, his brain is flash-loaded with ancient symbols pertaining to the location of a deadly machine that will let the bad guys destroy our sun (for reasons too stupid to explain here). Megatron (Weaving) is hauled out of his deep sea tomb (where the government dumped him as part of their military strategy to set up the sequel) and revived before being placed in the service of the Fallen - i.e. "The First Decepticon": a being so important that nobody bothered mentioning him in the first film. The plot more or less just has Sam becoming all spastic as the symbols overwhelm his brain while the robots engage in fight sequences. Sam and his pals also meet Agent Simmons (Turturro), and they all travel to Egypt where the pyramids are...because that's what happens when you give $200 million to a bunch of idiots who failed geography, and allow them to make a blockbuster.
The straightforward plot is padded out to an unholy two-and-a-half hours, which means the whole thing is packed with dreadful filler. For instance there's a subplot in which Sam and his girlfriend are too nervous to say "I love you" to each other...until, of course, the finale, because that's how it's done in Screenwriting 101. By the time the all-in rumble between the Autobots, Decepticons, Otherbots (?) and the US Army finally arrives, one will be too numbed and fatigued to actually give a damn about how it all ends.
The blunders of the first film have been accentuated rather than expunged, while the very limited charms of the predecessor are gone, leaving nothing to recommend. For Revenge of the Fallen, Bay indulges in so much excess that he delivers the cinematic equivalent of snorting cocaine off a hooker's arse. The "money shots all the time" approach robs the action of weight and coherency.
For reasons that escape this reviewer's mental perimeter, Bay and his writers place greater emphasis on comedy for this sequel. The dead space between the action is therefore reserved for rear nudity from Turturro, jive-talkin' Autobots (triggering uncomfortable memories of Jar Jar Binks), extended time with Sam's stridently unfunny parents, and a Decepticon spy with leg-humping tendencies. Does the concept of a robot humping a woman's leg seem funny to you at all? Bay seemed to think it was so hilarious that he also threw in two scenes of dogs humping each other as well. Transformer testicles also make an appearance, and there's an exceedingly long gag involving Sam's mother tripping out on pot brownies. And slutty chicks can transform into robots too, because the film patently refuses to make sense. If Bay had another ten million to spend, he probably would've tossed in a musical number as well.
When the characters aren't engaging in embarrassingly witless dialogue or doling out tiresome exposition, they're running away from explosions in slow motion (although outrunning an explosion is physically impossible). Meanwhile the "action" is relentless in its monotony. Robots pound on robots, humans launch rockets and missiles at robots (though never in the history of the sci-fi genre has artillery ever actually harmed aliens), robots wipe out humans, etc. This stuff goes on and on - far beyond what's necessary for a brain-dead, CGI-laden motion picture. Worse still, there are over forty Transformers in this film (most are interchangeable cannon fodder). Unfortunately the Transformers are all similar in design, not to mention they're poorly defined and make absolutely no visual sense whatsoever (a car can transform into a robot a few storeys tall?!). Combined with the director's typical hyper editing and close-ups, it's impossible to tell who's who during the battles. Bay is unable to keep his camera still for a second to allow a viewer to actually watch the combat, instead opting for dizzying camera patterns. In the long run the action becomes a nauseating, incomprehensible blur of confusion. It's frustrating and burdensome, and one will struggle to figure out what's happening instead of relaxing and enjoying. Revenge of the Fallen is just sensory white noise that beats its audience into either submission or boredom. It's like watching paint dry while being whacked over the head with a frying pan!
Naturally, Bay has less luck with the humans - his characters range from obnoxious to pointless. Every character is a bland cipher who either yells at the top of their lungs or runs away from explosions in slo-mo. Megan Fox's character is particularly superfluous - she serves no purpose in the story, and is there just because she's hot. The camera spends so much time ogling her torso that one will wonder if Bay allowed a 13-year-old boy to operate the camera. At the end of the day, the characters are all just stereotyped caricatures and there's no anchor among them - there are so many characters but no-one is in the centre to root for.
The CGI work courtesy of ILM is strangely mixed. On the one hand the facial expressions of the Transformers have more range, but on the other hand the integration with the live-action footage is less smooth and more cartoonish. There's also no sense of physics or gravity to these creations - the giant robots are just tossed around without any weight or inertia.
No Bay movie would be complete without the director's disturbing sense of reality. The women are all supermodel hot, and they love to spread their legs for geeks. Minorities are best used as comic relief, and conform to every stereotype imaginable. Oh, and a scene set in a foreign country must depict the country's clichés (just in case the under-titles don't make it clear which country we're in) - snails & mimes in France, and camels in Egypt. And of course, the American Armed Forces are fetishised - the final act more or less serves as an army recruitment commercial.
Perhaps more than anything else, Revenge of the Fallen is about Michael Bay's love for Michael Bay. He accomplishes this in countless ways; most overtly by placing a large poster for Bad Boys II in Sam's dorm room, and more subtly (but not really subtle) through visual homages (including a shower of fiery objects destroying buildings in Paris which causes a tower to collapse that's taken directly from Armageddon, as well as the destruction of an aircraft carrier which is an obvious nod to Pearl Harbor).
Fans of this woeful picture can only say a couple of things in the film's defence: it's entertaining and the special effects are amazing. But the latter is arguable, and the former is merely a subjective opinion. Every summer blockbuster has big special effects and action...Revenge of the Fallen is just a tired rehash of summer action movie conventions. Why bother?
Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen perfectly embodies every negative aspect of summer blockbusters. It's a big lumbering idiot of a movie that substitutes noise and movement for any type of emotional connection. Bay simply trudges through his hoary, heavily rehearsed motions of explosions upon explosions, and reduces the globetrotting plotting to a repetitive yawn. It's an unforgivably long, obnoxiously unrewarding and brutally tiring experience. Look, I understand the original Transformers was a colossal box office hit, and this sequel is doing just as well. I also understand there's a market for this sort of brain-dead blockbuster. The Transformers films may be popular, but so is junk food - and they both poison your insides and rot your brain.
At one stage John Turturro asks of a Transformer in relation to the current crisis "Beginning. Middle. End. Facts. Details. Condense. Plot. Tell it." - I'd like to ask the screenwriters the same thing.
Oh, and you know what? Michael Jackson saw this movie on opening night. Next day, he was dead. Coincidence?
1.2/10
Check out this video - it pretty much sums up everything that's wrong with this flick...in words funnier than mine.
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Posted : 4 months, 3 weeks ago on 12 July 2009 11:07
(A review of Running Scared)
"I got to fucking do something about this. I can't have the kid fucking talking to the cops. You understand me? The fucking gun is on the street. This whole fucking goddamn thing is about to fucking blow up. If fucking Tommy or any of those fucking guys find out about it, I'm a dead man. You got to fucking help me."
Taking a heavy dose of influence from 1970's cop flicks as well as employing elements of modern action films (with a bit of Grimm's Fairy Tales also in the mix), Wayne Kramer's Running Scared is a hard-hitting, visceral, over-the-top extravaganza of blood and bullets that never lulls for a moment. With his second major movie, writer-director Kramer has delivered a non-stop action powerhouse packed with brutal violence, nightmarish caricatures, gun-toting kids, washing machine cunnilingus and enough f-bombs to make Martin Scorsese blush. It's also laden with pointless-yet-cool camera tricks and a crazily contorted plot structure. In a nutshell: Running Scared is an outrageous catalogue of action movie tricks presented by a director who's clearly having fun sampling from the genre salad bar. This ain't a movie for squeamish or those sensitive to gratuitous violence, but Running Scared is highly recommended if you have a taste for stylish filmmaking and gritty realism - it will leave you breathless.
The less written about this film's storyline, the better. In the simplest words possible, the story concerns a low-level gangster named Joey Gazelle (Walker). Following a botched drug deal that results in the deaths of several corrupt cops, Joey is tasked with disposing the guns used during the shootout. But before he can dispose of the guns, one of them is stolen by a young boy named Oleg (Bright) who uses it to shoot his abusive father (Roden). This gun becomes a MacGuffin which sets things in motion. Throughout the course of one night, Joey has to find the gun as well as Oleg. What follows can be described rather accurately as a feverish fairy tale told in the backdrop of a nihilistic and violent underworld.
Running Scared begins with an eye-popping, violent action sequence that's part True Romance, part Lethal Weapon and part The Matrix. With frenetic camera work, quick edits, slow motion and blood aplenty, this is an ardently visual sequence. Action fanatics will certainly be pleased with this opening which also establishes a fitting "anything can happen" atmosphere. After this shootout, the story slows down in order to develop the characters. Once Oleg uses the gun, however, the film detonates with an exhilarating, kinetic energy. From there, Running Scared becomes a succession of encounters, each one growing more bizarre and overblown. Much of this flick exists in an almost dream-like state, with sequences bordering on surrealism. The screen drips with sweat and blood with scene after scene of relentless brutality. Joey and Oleg's trip down the rabbit hole (if you will) is a despairingly dark odyssey of crime and suspense that culminates in an amazingly violent climax for which all bets are off.
Writer-director Wayne Kramer previously directed the somewhat low-key 2003 film The Cooler, hence Running Scared is a surprise in terms of style. For this film, Kramer adds a multitude of visual tricks that amplify the nightmarish atmosphere. Jim Whitaker's cinematography is equally astounding - with a desaturated colour palette of rich, grimy lustre and a number of magnificent, digitally-enhanced images, the filmmakers have achieved a true comic-book mood in the vein of Sin City and Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. This is all topped off with Mark Isham's top-flight score. Director Kramer also truly tests the boundaries for his film's R rating - on top of the orgy of ultra-violence, profanity is plentiful and there are a few full frontal nude shots.
Running Scared is not without its faults, however - the storyline is confusing, with plot holes and unbelievably contrivances galore. The dialogue alternates between outrageously profane and unbelievable, and a lot of the characters are cardboard. Kramer also employs pretty much every crime film cliché in existence. But the visuals are so enthralling, the pacing is so frenetic and the action is so involving that the film only falls apart in retrospect. There are probably too many endings as well, but Running Scared nevertheless remains a deliriously off-beat, psychotic action flick that entertains mightily.
Paul Walker is one of the movie's greatest strengths. The hard-edged, scared-to-death persona of Joey perfectly suits Walker - he does plenty of running, jumping, shooting and swearing with grit and believability backing up his actions. Even better, the actor manages to sell panic better than one would expect judging from his past work (movies like The Fast and the Furious). The children (Cameron Bright and Alex Neuberger) submit solid work, while the villains (such as Chazz Palminteri, Karel Roden and Johnny Messner) exude malice. As the ever-devoted wife of Joey, there's Vera Farmiga who steals every scene. She even gets a subplot of her own - one which clearly indicates that Running Scared is more of a pulpy comic book or a grim neo-fairytale.
Running Scared is best described as an adult fairytale since writer-director Wayne Kramer blends conventional action-adventure aesthetics with the fantastic and the mythic. So much crazy stuff occurs during the course of Joey's outlandish night that the film frequently feels like a "greatest hits" collection of action flick lunacy. Best of all, Running Scared moves at such a lightning pace that one can easily overlook the preposterousness of the whole enterprise.
8.3/10
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Posted : 4 months, 3 weeks ago on 11 July 2009 11:51
(A review of Hard Boiled)
"Give a guy a gun, he's Superman. Give him two and he's God."
John Woo's Hard Boiled is a scrumptious feast for action lovers - an explosively visceral, operatic tour de force of amazingly choreographed violence and blistering pyrotechnics that's iced with Woo trademarks. At its core the film is a fairly standard cop drama with a limp emotional hook and cardboard characters, but with action extraordinaire John Woo at the helm, Hard Boiled is pumped up several notches. Woo grasps the conventional framework of an over-the-top action-thriller before adding a dense layer of visual artistry which is supplemented with meticulous choreography and the visceral punch of innocents in harm's way. Altogether, it's the perfect recipe for a John Woo actioner, and if this isn't his masterpiece then it certainly represents the director well enough.
Hard Boiled introduces us to tough-as-nails Hong Kong inspector 'Tequila' Yuen. At the beginning of the film, Tequila loses his partner in a shootout with a ruthless local triad gang. Determined to settle the score with these gun smugglers, Tequila reluctantly partners up with undercover police officer Tony (Leung) who has infiltrated the Hong Kong Triads. As Tony and Tequila work to crack the gun-running case, there are countless chest-thumping gun battles mixed with some halfway decent character development on top of an interesting subplot concerning paper cranes.
More than anything else, Hard Boiled is anchored firmly in place by the jaw-dropping action. Countless bullets are discharged throughout the film as the duo of heroes battle literally hundreds of henchmen. The key action sequences in Hard Boiled can be instantly recalled just by naming the location in which they transpire (the tea house, the warehouse, and so on). The shootouts never lack energy and never fail to astonish - the opening gunfight itself would be a worthy climax for any American actioner. The entire final half an hour of the feature is one long, breathtaking action set-piece within a hospital which moves briskly from one tense confrontation/shootout to another. There's one particularly stunning shot during the hospital sequence that lasts almost three minutes and follows Tequila & Tony as they dispatch a multitude of henchmen. In excess of 100,000 rounds of blank ammunition were reportedly expended during the production of the film. Interestingly, even despite the nonstop gun battles, we hardly ever see any characters reloading...
Director Woo employs close-ups, quick cuts, slow-motion, and insane tracking shots to weave in and out of the action. As a result, a viewer can easily become enthralled by the intense carnage. Unlike most other action directors, Woo understands one crucial thing - the geography of an action sequence. Woo's cinematography is smooth and steady as opposed to over-edited and shaky (like the director's successors). Meanwhile the score is both eerie and adrenaline-pumping, and the editing is sharp. Credit is also due to those who designed + created the sets - every location which houses an action sequence is blown to pieces for our viewing pleasure. The mayhem is simply awesome! On top of the competent craftsmanship, there's some sly humour tossed into the mix as well. A special mention should be made about the body count for this flick - according to multiple websites, Hard Boiled dishes out 307 bodies in total (146 during the hospital sequence alone).
Woo has two exceptional actors in Chow Yun-Fat and Tony Leung, who help prevent the film from diving into deep melodrama. Hard Boiled is marred by one factor, however: Tequila is never developed as a flesh-and-blood character. Tequila is just Chow Yun-Fat, the Asian Arnold Schwarzenegger - he's a mere cardboard cut-out with nothing more behind him. Were it not for the fact that Tony Leung's character is thoroughly developed and that the action truly kicks ass, Hard Boiled would just be another disposable actioner.
Prior to director John Woo's Hollywood conversion (resulting in excellent films like Face/Off, as well as duds in the form of Paycheck, Windtalkers and Mission: Impossible II), the man crafted a number of classic action films. Hard Boiled is arguably the best of the bunch. It's thin on plot, it's definitely silly, and it lacks an emotional hook, but it's the action and the top-notch filmmaking that deserves recognition here. From start to finish, dull moments are few and far between - and at over two hours in length, that's quite an achievement. Hard Boiled is also an essential motion picture which helped revolutionise the action genre for the subsequent generation - films like The Matrix owe their success and superb shootouts to this John Woo classic. You're simply not an action enthusiast unless you're familiar with Hard Boiled.
8.2/10
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Posted : 5 months ago on 4 July 2009 09:17
(A review of Hounddog)
"You ain't nothin' but a hound dog, cryin' all the time. You ain't never caught a rabbit, and you ain't no friend of mine."
Deborah Kampmeier's much-hyped Hounddog premiered at the 2007 Sundance Film Festival to a disastrous reception. Following its derailment at the festival, the film was subsequently recut and revised before being given a brief, unsuccessful theatrical release almost two years afterwards. But make no mistake...even the amended version of this humid drama is thoroughly awful. Although writer-director Kampmeier tried to get this project off the ground for a decade, Hounddog - unofficially known as The Dakota Fanning Rape Movie - feels tailor-made to be a vehicle for young Dakota Fanning who clearly desires to transition from kid roles to more dramatic material via this controversial drama. Unfortunately, this is just a heavy-handed, overwrought feature that isn't nearly as powerful or as provocative as it clearly strives to be. Hollow, unbelievably clichéd, unappealing, and unable to convey a worthwhile message, Hounddog is a handsomely-produced but unintentionally risible film.
Taking place in Alabama (although it was filmed in North Carolina) during the late 1950s, the story follows a precious young free spirit named Lewellen (Fanning). A pre-teen on the verge of womanhood, Lewellen is unaware of her burgeoning sexuality as she attracts the attention of lecherous boys while attempting to sort out her domestic troubles. The troubled 12-year-old girl only finds solace from her abusive life through blues music - namely Elvis Presley, whose songs she keenly sings and dances along to.
If there's one thing Hounddog does correctly, it's the recreation of the American South during the 1950s. The striking visuals are evocative of rural living, and the soundtrack (alive with the sounds of locusts and grasshoppers, in addition to a cocktail of classic music) are able to pull a viewer in. Unfortunately, though, Kampmeier has no idea what to do with an audience once they've become immersed in her world. The key flaw is that the story doesn't have anything valuable to say. Moreover, Lewellen never acts like a prepubescent girl - she's a writer's construct as opposed to a living, breathing human being.
Essentially a coming-of-age tale, Hounddog is an extremely episodic drama that bounces all over Lewellen's world in increasingly irritating and unintentionally funny ways. The loss of innocence is supposedly the main vein of thematic exploration for this feature, but Kampmeier simply isn't focused or talented enough to effectively pull it off as she struggles to cover the large canvas of Lewellen's family woes. Clichés plague the screenplay as well. With plenty of painfully "symbolic" snakes, a jovial African American who can offer homespun wisdom at the drop of a hat, and predatory boys who rape young girls, it's doubtful there's a Southern cliché that the writer-director misses!
The first two thirds of Hounddog are incredibly unfocused and grow increasingly boring. Kampmeier continues to throw in pointless distractions rather than focusing on developing a semblance of a narrative. Such distractions include the arrival of a snobby rich girl, as well as the tragedy that befalls Lewellen's father when (in an unintentionally comic moment) lightning strikes his tractor and he's turned into a childlike invalid. Eventually those who know what's coming will find themselves in the decidedly peculiar position of impatiently awaiting the rape of Lewellen, hoping the scene will get things moving. The rape scene arrives after roughly an hour, and is shown with sufficient restraint to deflect a lot of the criticism it received. There's nothing gratuitous or exploitative about this particular scene; it's presented as tastefully as possible while still conveying the horror of the act. (Kampmeier does cross the line, however, with a silly Jesus reference: Lewellen's palm is cut by a nail).
After the rape scene, Kampmeier's movie stumbles from one unlikely story development to the next, and is packed with further distractions (such as the return of a character who wants custody of Lewellen). There's no compelling portrait of Lewellen as she struggles to deal with the trauma. The film never deeply explores the character...she's ashamed and her spirit is broken - that's about all we get. An unnecessary plethora of subplots are added instead - there's some mystical mumbo-jumbo involving snakes, and an all-knowing Negro who soothes Lewellen's spirit with his words of healing and blues music. How does that solve the problem? At the end of the day, Hounddog is just utterly uninvolving and asinine.
More than anything else, Hounddog is a film that allows Dakota Fanning the rare opportunity to convey a tremendous range of emotions in an Oscar-baiting performance. Fanning is the best thing about this otherwise cold fish of a motion picture. The only other actor worth mentioning is David Morse as Lewellen's father. Morse, already a cringingly limited actor, just does his best Forrest Gump impression after his character is struck by lightning. He ludicrously overplays his character's mental reduction, to the point that one will likely be reminded of Robert Downey Jr.'s speech in Tropic Thunder regarding the perils facing an actor who goes "full retard."
Hounddog is merely a string of vignettes - there's no coherent or compelling story, and it loses power as a result. The controversial rape scene is the only moment in Hounddog that's genuinely effective because it is the only time that writer-director Deborah Kampmeier had a solid idea of what she wanted to say. In spite of a few scenes of utter greatness, this motion picture as a whole is an unmitigated mess. If there was genuine heart and passion behind this film, Hounddog could've become the genuinely moving and powerful drama that it wanted to be rather than the maudlin, silly mess it ended up becoming.
4.7/10
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Posted : 5 months ago on 3 July 2009 11:13
(A review of Nothing But the Truth)
"I'm writing a story. I work for the National Desk okay, and it's gonna run tomorrow, and it's gonna say among other things that you are a CIA operative and that you went on a mission, a fact-finding mission to Venezuela."
Nothing But the Truth is rock-solid entertainment devised by adults, starring adults, and intended for adults. The opening moments of this riveting journalism drama emphasise that it's merely inspired by (but not based on) a true story. The plot is a moderate reworking of an event that occurred in 2005 - New York Times reporter Judith Miller served time in gaol for refusing to reveal her source for a story that exposed the identity of CIA operative Valerie Plame. For Nothing But the Truth, details of this true story have been altered (Iraq is changed to Venezuela, 9/11 is changed to an attempted Presidential assassination), but the broad strokes are there. Writer-director Rod Lurie employs the true story's basic elements to craft this compelling political thriller. And in doing so, Lurie has created a powerful examination of the fragility of Constitutional rights as well as the consequences of journalistic integrity. In a contemporary cinematic climate of kid-friendly and action-drenched multiplexes, Nothing But the Truth stands out as something rare - a top-flight drama for grownups. One of the most overlooked and unappreciated movies of 2008, this is an intelligent motion picture which centres on smart characters.
In this loose retelling of the 2005 Miller/Plame affair, an ambitious Washington journalist named Rachel Armstrong (Beckinsale) writes an article that divulges incriminating evidence about the United States government. This article also reveals that a local suburban woman named Erica Van Doren (Farmiga) is a covert CIA operative. The axe falls immediately - Rachel's story triggers a swift reaction from the government, who demand to know who gave the reporter confidential information. However Rachel refuses to reveal the identity of her source, and consequently she's thrown in gaol by smooth-talking US prosecutor Patton Dubois (Dillon). As days turn into weeks, and weeks into months, Rachel refuses to talk, which brings about dire consequences for herself and her family.
Director Lurie manages to keep the gripping narrative throttling forward at a brisk pace. The speed and force with which the government come down upon Rachel is as abrupt and startling to the characters as it is to a viewer. As the plot progresses, Lurie continually adds more nuance while also offering a thoughtful commentary on several things - the fleeting media attention for Rachel's plight, the shifting public perception of the media, and even sexism (in the form of criticism against Rachel for remaining in gaol instead of being with her son). These elements culminate in a terrific speech delivered by Rachel's attorney (Alda) at a US Supreme Court hearing. Nothing But the Truth concentrates on Rachel's dilemma while simultaneously displaying the aftershock for CIA agent Erica Van Doren. As Erica is continually grilled by her superiors (who believe that she is either the leak or has carelessly disclosed her identity) and Rachel is threatened with prison time, it becomes possible to sympathise with both of these women.
Lurie's screenplay deviates considerably from the Miller/Plame affair that inspired the film in order to critique the American government and a modern society. One of the picture's strongest points is that those unfamiliar with the real-life story will be easily sucked into the film's narrative, and the movie doesn't contain many exaggerations to distract those acquainted with the story. The filming style adopted by Lurie and cinematographer Alik Skharov is tremendously gritty, and the immediacy is downright staggering from time to time. The thoughtful script is also well-written - heated conversations between the characters are intense instead of over-the-top - and the central narrative is wrapped up with a clever, unexpected plot twist. The film is sharply edited thanks to editor Sarah Boyd as well, and everything is topped off with a powerful, evocative score courtesy of Larry Groupé. Nothing But the Truth has its faults - it's underwritten (more character development would've been beneficial), the politics of the knotty case are oversimplified, and the subplot about Rachel's husband is a dead end (both emotionally and structurally) - but it's nevertheless a masterful effort, and these faults aren't enough to outweigh its abundance of strengths.
One of the strongest points of Nothing But the Truth is the cast, led by Kate Beckinsale who submits one of the best performances of her career. Through Beckinsale we can see Rachel Armstrong's ambition as well as her love for her son, and her shock and outrage at the treatment the FBI subjects her to. Director Lurie relies a lot on close-ups, and this style is advantageous because the myriad of emotions conveyed by Beckinsale are brought out.
As the explosive CIA operative Erica Van Doren, Vera Farmiga is downright excellent. The conviction and indignation that Farmiga manages to bring to her character is startling. Matt Dillon is impeccably nuanced as Patton Dubois. Dillon's restraint in the role (he never plays Dubois as an antagonist) makes it easier to see things from his perspective.
The supporting cast is equally remarkable. Angela Bassett conveys grave authority in her role as Rachel's editor, while Noah Wyle does an excellent job as the newspaper's hot-headed legal counsel. Alan Alda is terrific as the overly dapper but committed attorney, bringing a great degree of gravitas to this challenging role. Meanwhile, David Schwimmer submits understated, engaging work as Rachel's embittered husband.
Unjustly ignored during its brief period in theatres, Nothing But the Truth is a crisply-shot political thriller that's definitely worth checking out.
8.8/10
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