Archive for November, 2005

The Ghost and the Darkness (1996)

In 1898, two lions in deepest, darkest Africa were apparently responsible for the deaths of 130 people during the building of a railroad bridge. No normal lions these, for they hunted together and with no small amount of deliberation, unparalleled in the intensity of their brutality. For architect John Henry Patterson (Val Kilmer), the challenge is to stop the lions so that he can continue building his bridge, even after all the African and Indian workers have left the site, paralyzed with fear.

Enter hunter Charles Remington (Michael Douglas). Why, with his savvy and Patterson’s book smarts, there’s no telling what they’ll accomplish!

Well, what they accomplish might be pretty obvious to all but the most naive of moviegoers, but it’s the thrill of the chase and all that. The lions confound typical descriptions; their behavior isn’t all that predictable, either. They seem to kill for the mere pleasure of it. Add in a cranky, overworked doctor and a pompous employer, and you have – as they say – all the makings of an action soaper. All that’s missing is a love interest, although Patterson’s pregnant wife makes a couple of appearances, one in a dream sequence.

It’s good to see Kilmer looking all strapping and such – reminding us he was indeed a Hot Star at one point – and Douglas looks just like he did in Romancing the Stone. Same kind of character, too. So it was nice to see him being grizzled and quirky, mostly because we knew he’d somehow Save the Day.

The movie is good spectacle, falling a little short of actual epic, but it’s sweepingly filmed, and you get a real sense of the African landscape, lovingly scoped by Vilmos Zsigmond. There aren’t many lapses in logic, and the suspense never really lets up. In all, it’s a fun time waster.

The Ghost and the Darkness: ***

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Gas, Food Lodging (1992)

I remember Say Anything and The Rachel Papers, movies in which Ione Skye played women (girls) on pedestals. Unattainable, perfect, pure in spirit and looks. Skye was kind of a poor-woman’s (girl’s) Liv Tyler; she had some talent, but playing similar roles didn’t really make her light shine brighter.

Here, she’s the bad older sister to Fairuza Balk’s good little sister (also ironic, because Balk’s played bad girls since this movie came out), siblings raised by their waitress-single mom (Brooke Adams) in the middle of the New Mexico desert. You know the tale – a lack of male role model, dead-end town, bad luck in love. But the chemistry of Balk and Skye raise this just enough.

Skye is Trudy, the rebellious teen who dresses like a slut and acts the role. Balk’s her younger sister Shade, a devotee of the local Mexican cinema and the protagonist of this character-driven tale. She wants to find a man for their mom, but her mom will have none of it. Meanwhile, tumbleweeds roll by intermittently for no good reason, which probably happens a lot in the desert, come to think of it – a surefire symbol for the aimless life of the small-town denizen.

Make no mistake – this here is a chick flick. I don’t mind them on occasion, but this one never grabbed me the way, say, Sleepless in Seattle did. It’s not sentimental enough to be weepy OR maudlin, it just kind of floats about listlessly, like its characters.

But for its generic vanillaness, the film’s lifted a little bit by the great work by Balk (quite young at the time) and Skye.

Gas, Food Lodging: **1/2

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231 – Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

The HP movies continue to wow and amaze me. As they progress, they’re getting darker and more adult, much like Harry Potter himself. In the beginning, they felt more like kids’ movies that adults could enjoy, and now the tables have been turned a bit.

This fourth movie covers Harry’s fourth year at Hogwarts. The Goblet of the title is a magical urn that spits out the names of three contestants for that year’s Triwizards Tournament. Ah, but there’s a fourth name belched by the goblet, and to no viewer’s surprise, it belongs to Young Mr. Potter.

No one knows how Harry’s name made its way into the Goblet, especially since there’s a curse on it that prevents anyone under 17 from submitting a name, and Harry insists he didn’t even try. But rules is rules, and Harry’s the fourth contestant. The quartet must face three challenges, including dragons, merpeople, and a labyrinth. We know, of course, that Harry will make it through all of these tasks relatively intact, since his further exploits (books five and six) have already been published. But how does he do it? What new characters will attempt to foil him, and what new friends will he make?

Hogwarts is the host school for the tournament, and so two other schools will be spending the year with the Hogwarts students – a bevy of French lasses and a squadron of strapping central European lads. It is from these two schools, plus one from Hogwarts and Harry himself, that the four contestants are selected by the Goblet.

But perhaps Harry’s biggest challenge is a rather mundane one – finding a date to the Yule Ball. Perhaps the most endearing quality of Rowling’s books (and the movies) is that Harry, underneath it all, is really just another teenager. He’s alternately whiny, paranoid, unhappy, and joyful. And now he and his chums have been told they’ll all be taking dance lessons so they can look good on the floor later that year.

Of course, adding to the fun is the latest Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, Alastor “Mad Eye” Moody (Brendan Gleeson), who has – as you might guess – one working eye and a sort of robotic eye that has a telescopic lens. And at least one fake leg. He kind of looks like the love child of C-3PO and the Skipper from Gilligan’s Island. The Dark Arts teacher is traditionally a one-year wonder – something always happens – so the mystery is what’ll happen to Moody, not if it’ll happen at all.

Rowling’s world is so well defined that new characters can be introduced in the books but mentioned only fleetingly in the movies – and we’re none the worse for it. For example, Madame Maxime, a half-giantess who’s the headmistress of the French school, falls for (surprise!) Hagrid, the half-giant. Ah, true love. We don’t see much of them, but when we do see Madame Maxime her appearances aren’t incongruous; they, in fact, help further the plot.

Since the movies are getting darker (tough times ahead!), we see less and less of the cute touches that inhabited the first two films, such as buying books in Diagon Alley, boarding the train to Hogwarts, seeing Hagrid greeting the first year students, and so forth. But in its place, we get a LOT of fantastic effects, such as Harry outracing and outmaneuvering a flying dragon – on his broom, of course; Harry speaking with Sirius via the Gryffindor fire, and the Quidditch World Cup. These scenes aren’t just wowie scenes done to shock and amaze the audience; they feel perfectly plausible and logical, not gratutious.

Mike Newell is the director this time around (the third director in the series), and the first Briton to helm one of the movies. He’s really adept at staging action scenes without distracting the audience with special effects – which is not to say the effects aren’t grand, just that they’re not the only thing the movie has going for it.

Everyone seems to be aging with their roles rather well (although Maggie Smith’s looking longer in the tooth than usual, perhaps, and Michael Gambon’s Dumbledore is much more energetic than Richard Harris’ was), and I was pleased to see that there wasn’t too much attention paid to the romantic angles of the story (particularly regarding the ball). I was further pleased to see the friendship of Hermione, Ron, and Harry being reevaluated. Readers of the series know that the interrelationships of these three friends will change drastically in due time, and it’s good to see just a hint of it here (rather than dwelling on it to the point of detracting from the rest of the story).

I would not recommend that kids under a certain age watch this movie. It is the first in the series to be rated PG-13 (fitting, since Harry is now 14), and its dark themes – including children in peril, death, serious injury – will probably be too much for the younger set who liked the first two films in the series.

All in all, I thought Goblet was the best of the bunch so far. Often, by the time a there’s a fourth in a movie series, the characters are so well worn that one can rather easily predict what’s going to happen to them. But this isn’t the case here, and that might be at least partly due to the changing directors (and tone). We’re familiar with Harry and his friends, and we root for them, but they never become so bland – or, to the other extreme, wacky for the sake of being wacky – that they become tiresome, not by a long shot.

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: ***1/2

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Scared to Death (1947)

Before I submit the main-course review, let me offer you this appetizer. Like the movie, it won’t be as satisfying as most reviews might be.

This is Bela Lugosi’s only starring feature in color. That’s about all it has going for it, really; the schtick of having a corpse narrate the movie (Which would be done quite a bit better a few years later by Sunset Blvd.) isn’t well executed, anyway.

Laura Van Ee (Mary Lamont) is a nervous, tension-ridden ex-dancer who thinks she’s imprisoned in her room by her husband Ward and her father in law Dr. Josef (George Zucco). She’s mad, mad I tell you! Since it’s her corpse that narrates, I think we can assume we know what happens to Mrs. Van Ee right from the get-go.

Why is she so anxious? She’s not sure – no one is – but everyone suspects it all has something to do with her past, and something to do with a handkerchief. Enter Bela Lugosi and a midget – no, wait, Professor Leonide and his faithful companion, Indigo. And a wisecracking, tough-guy reporter (Douglas Fowley) and his dim-bulb dame (Joyce Compton). Add in a bumbling ex-cop who overtly desires a murder so he can solve it and get back to “real” policework (Nat Pendelton), and you have all the ingredients for One Crappy Low Budget Movie.

Every now and then the director remembers this is supposed to be a horror film, not a crime caper, so you hear this loopy pseudospooky music that’s probably supposed to portend doom, or something. Which makes some sort of sense, but there’s nothing creepy going on at the time, so it’s hardly effective.

I’ve heard tell that Lamont, as the haunted Mrs. Ee (love the surname) is the only actor with any kind of spirit (ha, ha) in the movie – but please, hammy isn’t the same as being spirited. Lugosi plays Lugosi, the midget disappears halfway through the picture, there’s a supposedly disemodied head, and that’s about it. It’s all over in an hour or so.

Scared to Death: *1/2

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Ring of Terror (1962)

With that name, can the movie be anything but a crappy el cheapo horror flick? Well, yes, yes it can. Funny thing, I thought the “ring” of the title referred to a ring of people, like there was this group of people terrorizing, or something. Turns out it has something to do with a ring on a corpse’s hand.

Anyway, it’s really not that bad. It’s a little overlong, which is weird since it’s really only about 75 minutes in length, but what I mean is that there’s plenty of filler, a lot of extended shots for no apparent reason. Still, the atmosphere is pretty creepy, even if the acting is thoroughly wooden.

It’s set in the present time, which would be early 1960s, back when the hippies were still in only one area of the country, where men were men and women were subservient to them. You get the picture. Big cars, short haircuts, conservative values. Everyone has this hokey golly gosh accent. The main characters are med students who are also pledging a fraternity; in the frat angle to the plot, they’re each given some goofy “assignment” at the wild-n-crazy Bacchnalian barbeque. These kids wouldn’t know wild and crazy if Steve Martin and Dan Aykroyd, circa 1975, jumped on them and sang “King Tut” till their vocal cords began to bleed. I mean, one of the assignments is that one guy – who apparently likes his liquor, if you know what I mean – isn’t allowed to touch ANY liquid for an entire day – and then he’s allowed to gorge. WOW! What a task! Can he survive? Sure, the first part’s tough, but then you get to drink all you want. This is not a tough assignment.

The crux of the plot, though, concerns one Lewis P. Moffatt, a balding collegian who apparently has no fear. He even assists the professor in an autopsy, while his chums vomit! Whee! He’s tough as nails, this one. So he, naturally, gets the frat assignment of a lifetime. But alas, I can’t tell you about it here, since it’s integral to the ending AND happens withing ten minutes of said ending.

As with many of the dollar DVDs I’ve found, most of the actors (he said, unconvincingly) in this movie never appeared in anything again. I can’t imagine why. Their characterizations aren’t too deep, anyway – there’s even a couple that exists solely because they’re fat as hell and proud of it. (There’s even a gratuitous beauty pageant in which the chunky boyfriend – a judge – votes for his hefty girlfriend and then spends precious plot minutes explaining why. Whee!

But even so, the ending doesn’t seem tacked on, and the mood is pretty well set. It’s not nearly as bad as its name might imply.

Ring of Terror: **1/2

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230 – The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Don’t panic. This is not as cheesy as the 1980s BBC miniseries, but it’s also not as Hollywoodized as one might expect. That means you purists out there, you Douglas Adams fanboys and girls, aren’t going to be disappointed, and those of you who have somehow avoided reading any of the Hitchhiker books won’t be confused.

On a perfectly otherwise-ordinary Thursday, Briton Arthur Dent awoke to see a bulldozer about to knock down his unimaginative house to make way for a bypass. And that, as it turned out, was the most believable thing to happen to him from then on, as he winds up traveling across the galaxy, encountering numerous weird characters and huge leaps in logic. With him is his longtime friend Ford, who up until that day Arthur had thought was simply an out-of-work actor. Turns out Ford’s a researcher for the Guide of the title, and he’s able to rescue Arthur from Earth before our fair planet is obliterated to make way for a bypass.

Why bother with more plot details than that, really? That’s all you need to know. Arthur is Everyman, and everyone else is incredibly odd. But not so odd that your brain’s not proportionally entertained. And entertained you will be! Check out some of the fun stuff the future apparently holds. There’ll be these tiny fish that can translate any language after you put them in your ear. Fantastic! And then there’s another device that detects what you want to eat by analyzing your mind.

Now, I’ve read all of the books, and I’ve seen the miniseries, and I’ve even listened to the old radio play (on tape, remember those?). Yes, there are some differences – they couldn’t cram everything from the first book into one movie – including the addition of a character. But fret not, Douglas Adams himself made these changes, and they feel rather seamless. So that’s a huge plus. And if you did see the miniseries back in the day, you might recall how woefully low-budget the effects were. Ah, this time around the Infinite Improbabilty Drive looks VERY improbable, indeed.

The movie manages somehow to capture the spirit of the books, which is no small feat when you consider how absurd the original plot really was. Plus, there’s that omnipresent dry British wit, but somehow THAT comes across as well.

The entire cast is excellent, but I particularly loved Alan Rickman as the voice of Marvin the Paranoid Android. Perfect, absolutely as I’d imagined him to be. “Life… don’t talk to me about life,” moans Marvin. It’s also fun to watch Mos Def as Ford, Sam Rockwell as Zaphod, and the ethereal Zooey Deschanel as Trillian, with her big eyes and flighty charm. No, really, they were all simply smashing. As you can see, it’s the kind of movie that makes you talk all Englandian.

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy: ***

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I Eat Your Skin (1964)

No, not really. I merely sniff at it disdainfully.

This 1964 movie was originally titled Zombies but wasn’t released for six years, probably because it’s really awful. Then distributor Jerry Gross (ha!) bought the rights to it, because he wanted it on a twin bill with his own I Drink Your Blood. Hence the renaming.

A he-man writer travels to a remote island with his agent and the agent’s faux bitchy wife so that the hedonistic writer (kind of Mickey Spillane and James Bond combined, although without the character depth) can be inspired to write another crappy book. Turns out, of course, that the idyllic paradise contains a zombie army and voodoo rituals and other fun stuff. There’s also a hot daughter of a scientist for whom Our Hero falls; the scientist, naturally, is working on a cure for cancer.

This cheapie has virtually nothing going for it, including some spectacularly bad acting and writing (typical line: “I love your place! It’s so…. TROPICAL!”) and hardly any, despite the location, great scenery. At least the womenfolk are sort of attractive. Oh, and the zombies look pretty nifty, as long as you can convince yourself they’re not just actors covered in some silty white powder and with what appear to be cucumbers on their eyes.

Despite the title, there’s no actual cannibalism, which is a shame. It’s not that I feel misled, it’s that such an angle might have helped the movie. Imagine! Voodoo zombie cannibals! All they’d have to do then is add robot ninja pirate monkeys, and it’d have rocked!

I checked out the credits of the six main characters, and most of them never acted again. I can’t imagine why. A small plus is the short run time (only 84 minutes); overall, it’s on the level of most of Edward D. Wood Jr.’s movies.

I Eat Your Skin: *

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229 – Crash

Crash is about thirty-six hours in the lives of various, disparate people in Los Angeles, told as a series of interconnecting vignettes. Some of the people are good, hardworking souls just trying to scrape by, and others are bad people bent on destruction and menacing. By the end, though, some of the good people have done bad things, and some of the bad people have done good things. And they all grew as people as a result.

This wasn’t an easy movie to get through. To begin with, nearly every character is despicable in his or her own way. Not so much that one can easily classify them as Bad, no – it’s more as if each was being presented as a Good person with Flaws. The downside to that, though, is that it makes rooting for any of the characters is nearly impossible.

Another problem is the writing. Everything is film with such a heavy, hamfisted attitude! Person A has something happen to them, so of COURSE they’re going to emerge as a better person as a result. I mean, I’m glad that things don’t always turn out like rainbows and unicorns and happy crap like that for our brave characters, but does their redemption (or fall from grace) have to happen so obviously? It’s as if the viewer has been hit over the head with a frying pan – BAM! THIS PERSON DID A BAD THING. THEY ARE NOW NOT AS GOOD AS YOU THOUGHT. And then BAM! you get hit again, because the same knucklehead did something else.

I didn’t like anybody, and I had a strong sense that if I ran into any of them, anywhere, they sure as heck wouldn’t like me, either. What a bunch of miserable, whiny, self-obsessed, self-absorbed twits these people are. Convinced they are right, they haphazardly stomp about the movie, glaring menacingly at people who are different from them, which naturally is supposed to teach us, the unwashed audience, that Different Is Good, and these people Just Don’t Get It (Yet).

Paul Haggis wrote, directed, coproduced, and wrote some of the music for the movie. Interestingly enough, the Scottish dish haggis smells just as bad as this movie. What should have been melodramatic was instead uproariously funny; it helps when you’ve actively decided to dislike the characters. I wished for their deaths, and I bet some of you will, too.

Don Cheadle continues to prove he’s a great actor, and Ludacris was surprisingly convincing, walking away with most of his scenes. But the rest of the gang was dull and trite, doing little with the admittedly awful material with which they had to work. But don’t feel too bad for them, folks, because at least they didn’t have to listen to the soundtrack, which seemed to consist of one long Enya-like tribute. I suspect it was actually several songs, but it seemed like a continuous stream of overemoting – and inappropriately, at that. You know how in horror films there’s this music that’ll play that lets the audience know Something Bad Is Gonna Happen? That’s what the music here was, only it never stopped.

Crash: BOMB

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Metapost: The Comics Critic

When you get tired of my same-old same-old boring text reviews, hop on over to The Comics Critic. Movies are reviewed in comic book form. It's hilarious.

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