Reviews

I've seen too many movies. I admit it. That's why I can tell where most movies are going most of the time. This is especially true of horror movies. I don't mean to imply that all horror movies are same and therefore easily predictable. Rather that there is a tendency towards sameness when it comes to quickly made B grade horror movies. This tendency is what makes me treasure those rare B grade horror movies that manage to surprise me. Movies like "The Breed."

The movie, set in "the near future," opens with our main character, named Steve Grant (Bokeem Woodbine), and his partner tracking down a kidnapped girl. Grant is an agent of the NSA (National Security Agency) and I am unsure as to why an NSA Agent would be tracking a kidnapped girl. Unfortunately, so is the script. Moving on. The partners quickly find the girl (too late) and confront her kidnapper. The kidnapper turns out to be a vampire and slaughters Grant's partner.

It was at this point that I figured I knew where the movie was going. I assumed that this incident would open Grant's eye's to the world of the occult and he would either A) be kicked off the police force and become an independent vampire hunter or that B) he would be inducted into the secret branch of the police force that specializes in demolishing creatures of the night. Just as the movie looked to be headed straight for path B, it took a left turn and regained my interest. When Grant insists on telling the truth in his official report he is told that the Government has known about vampires for nearly a year and are working on integrating them into normal society. He is then introduced to his new partner, one Aaron Grey (Adrian Paul), who is a vampire and told that they must work together to catch this dangerous rogue who threatens the peace of both races.

This is a good premise for a movie and, to "The Breed's" credit, it tries to live up to this premise. It fails more than it succeeds, but at least it fails in a watchable way. The movie spends a little too much time on a murder investigation that isn't as complicated or as interesting as it seems. It sets up an ending that isn't as surprising as the movie wants it to be. It gives action scenes that aren't as exciting as they should be.

In between the scenes mentioned above we get a love story that, properly handled, could have been the basis for an entire movie of it's own. We watch two partners learn to trust each other and deal with their differences. We see totalitarian overtones to the government that, if played up more, could have added a whole new layer of depth to the movie. We meet some cool vampires. We see some cool death scenes.

Generally, this is a lousy movie, but it is a movie that tries hard. Sometimes, I'd rather watch a failure with high ambitions than a success with that settled for ordinary.

In "Videodrome," Max Renn (James Woods) runs a small cable channel that panders exclusively to the lowest common denominator market with sex and violence. In his quest to find the newest and most extreme material for his channel he stumbles upon a conspiracy that uses television to mind control the audience. This conspiracy faces resistance in the form of an underground cult dedicated to the idea that television is the instrument of mankind's evolution.

"Videodrome" is a high-brow movie with a gloriously low-brow protagonist. It deals with ideas like the nature of reality and its relationship to perception in startlingly direct and often grotesque ways. The movie mirrors the spiritual journey of the protagonist with a physical metamorphosis. In short, it is a complicated but excellent rewarding film.

"The Perfect Host" is entertaining and well made. It features a wonderfully fun and well realized performance by the underrated David Hyde Pierce. It is has an original concept. With all of these good qualities, it is not hard to forgive the movie for containing at least one twist too many or generally thinking itself more clever than it is.

John Taylor (Clayne Crawford) has just robbed a bank. Despite several layers of precautions designed to protect his identity and stymie pursuit, the police have quickly identified him and are closing in. In order to lie low, Taylor cons his way into the house of Warwick Wilson (David Hyde Pierce) who is preparing for a dinner party. Warwick turns out to not be as helpless as he appears and his dinner party ends up being both delightful and horrifying depending on one's perspective.

The movie is both a puzzle and a duel. As we watch, we slowly piece together complete portraits of both men (neither of whom are entirely what they first appear) and watch them struggle for dominance. Not all of the reveals are believable and the ending is far too tidy, but I could not help but enjoy "The Perfect Host." Made by a first time director, this movie radiates a sense of fun and free expression.

If you like your movies to be tightly paced and plotted or if you prefer that your political satire be subtle, then "Silver City" is not the movie for you. The film is an attack on Bush era politics. To a lesser extent, it also addresses the the culpability of the press and the cultivated dis-interest of the voters that allows the vested interests to so thoroughly corrupt the political arena. There is also a lackadaisical love story and a less than urgent murder mystery. If this sounds a little meandering, it is.

Bearing all that in mind, I quite liked this film. A film can take its time if the action is enjoyable. Satire need not be subtle to be accurate or pointed. As stuffed as the movie is with ideas and plots, it is also full of wonderful actors and the dialogue is natural and thoroughly enjoyable.

"Silver City" may not be the best work of Writer/Director John Sayles' career, but it is very representative of his style. He creates a world populated by striking and believable characters who make an impression even when they have small scenes. He knows how to get the best out of his actors; everyone in this film turns in a wonderful performance. All in all, I say that this films many charms vastly outweigh its flaws.

I first read "A Princess of Mars" in third grade. The book, and its sequels, quickly became my favorite piece of fiction. It is fair to say that I cannot think of a movie I have been anticipating for a longer time and that I am completely incapable of being truly objective about "John Carter." With that in mind, I still think that my disappointment with the movie has less to do with emotional attachment and expectation than with clichéd writing.

For those of you who aren't up on your turn of the century proto-scifi novels, "John Carter" is based a book by the same author who created Tarzan. The eponymous hero is a civil war veteran and gold prospector who gets transported to Mars where he gets entangled in the planet's complex politics and near endless wars. He makes friends with several giant four-armed green skinned martian, he falls in love with a beautiful red-skinned human-looking martian princess, and he ends up in conflict with just about the entire rest of the planet. All of this allows for some wonderful chasing, exciting action scenes, and even fun airship battles.

As far as action goes this movie is adequate to excellent depending on the scene. However, it takes its time building up to these sequences engaging in complicated and frankly uninterested set up scenes. Even after the John Carter's arrival on mars the movie keeps using a poorly developed "tragic backstory" to delay the inevitable. I wouldn't complain about attempts to flesh out the hero's character if they weren't so trite, overworn, and, ultimately, pointless. However, the movie is well acted and does, eventually, kick into gear. If you are patient it is rewarding enough. And, if the sequel gods are kind, we might get less filler or (even better) interesting character development in the next film.

"The Apartment" begins with a premise that seems whimsical. We meet a man, C.C. "Buddy Boy" Baxter (Jack Lemmon), who is working late because he cannot go home. He cannot go home because someone else is having sex in his apartment. It's not his roommate or his wife or anyone else whom you might expect to be in his apartment. There is an executive from Baxter's company having sex in his apartment.

The reason an almost complete stranger is using Baxter's apartment is that Baxter is a doormat. The whole thing started when he let a co- worker change clothes in his apartment. Before long he had four executives using his place for their extra-marital affairs and stringing him along with promises of promotion. The situation gets so out of control that, in order to spend an afternoon in bed to recuperate from a cold, Baxter must make a dozen phone-calls to juggle appointments. Baxter knows he's being used, but is such a wondrous shmuck that he plays along pretending to believe that he believes in their stories about promotion.

The situation goes from whimsical to poignant when Baxter trades exclusive rights to use his apartment to one Mr. Sheldrake (Fred MacMurray) in exchange for an actual promotion. What Baxter doesn't know is that the woman Sheldrake is taking to his apartment is the sad faced but personable elevator girl, Ms. Kubelik (Shirley MacLaine), for whom Baxter nurtures a massive crush. Indeed, the first thing Baxter does when getting promoted is to summon the courage to ask out Ms. Kubelik. She agrees but is pulled back into her "love affair" with the sweet- talking Mr. Sheldrake. How can we help but feel for poor Baxter who knows he's been stood up but has been mercifully spared the details of why.

Wilder isn't done torturing poor Baxter yet. The movie's premise has already moved from whimsical to poignant and now moves from poignant to cynical and bleak. Ms. Kubelik is smart enough to understand she is making a mistake, but dumb enough to keep making it. Yet, even she has her breaking point and when this comes, Ms. Kubelik tries to commit suicide by swallowing all of the sleeping pills in Baxter's apartment. This gives us the films defining image: Baxter, having a spent a wretched Christmas eve drinking alone in a sea of merriment, comes home with an equally lonely woman to attempt to snatch a few fleeting moments of tawdry pleasure only to find, passed out and dying, the object of his erstwhile affections.

The scenes that follow are the true heart of the movie. Baxter cares for Ms. Kubelik, showing his love for her with his every action. He treats her not as an unwelcome interloper but as an honored guest. He does his best to entertain her, to cheer her, to defend her reputation, and to safeguard her happiness. Baxter even tries to make Mr. Sheldrake be kind to Ms. Kubelik. One could read these actions as an attempt to suck up to his boss and assuage his own loneliness, but he goes to far for me to believe that is true. Sure he is desperate for company, but Baxter is also desperately in love with this sad bruised woman in his bed. Sure he wants any excuse to be close to her, but he also shows a genuine concern for her happiness, even if that means getting her back together with another man.

This movie is undoubtedly a love story, but I feel duty-bound to disillusion you of the sappy connotation that usually accompanies that phrase. It is one of, if not the, most grounded and human love stories I have ever encountered. Our main characters are a manipulative philanderer, a spineless corporate flunky, and a willfully naïve young woman. An argument could be made that these people are so flawed and wrapped up in their own image of what they want the world to be that the don't deserve a happy ending. And Wilder doesn't provide us with one; at least, not in the traditional obligatory love-conquers-all way. Instead, his characters bounce around interacting with each other in profound, yet often subtle, ways. They are changed by these interactions and these changes shape their decisions.

The movie ends on a happy note with one of Wilder's immortal unforgettable tag lines, but I make room for the possibility that the ending is deceptive. Perhaps, like Shaw's "Pygmalion," what follows the end wouldn't be so happy. I like this idea and make room for it, but I choose not to believe it. Despite how much I enjoy it when my romance stories are shaded with cynicism, "The Apartment" involves me in Baxter's life to such an extent that I sympathize with him and want, no need, him to live happily ever after. He may not deserve it, but to say that says that no human deserves "happily ever after." For that is what Baxter is, a human. A flawed tragic every man struggling to be a man in a world that wants flunkies.

"There Will be Blood" has a minimalist score, long stretches with no dialogue, little in the way of action, and an ending that eschews traditional resolution or dramatic catharsis, yet it remains an intensely gripping film.

It a character study of a charismatic yet thoroughly unlikable man. He methodically works towards goal only to have it destroy him when he accomplishes it. Daniel Day-Lewis plays Daniel Plainview a 19th century silver miner who becomes an oil tycoon trying to amass enough wealth to separate himself from the world that he dislikes. Over the course of his life he picks up a brother, a son, and a nemesis only to discard or destroy them in terrible and almost off hand ways.

If the movie sounds unconventionally rewarding, that is because it is. It is less a conventional narrative than an exploration of the nature of a particular man. It is a film that both requires and rewards patience.

As this movie opens, our main character, Charlie (John Cusack) explains how he believes that it is possible to commit the perfect crime. In his opinion, all you need is to be the kind of person who would never commit a crime. This is the kind of circular logic that rules not only the film, but Charlie's life as well.

Charlie has, in a monumentally out of character moment of courage, has just stolen two million dollars from his mob-boss employer. Now all he and his wonderfully droll partner, Vic (Billy Bob Thorton), have to do is go their separate ways and wait out the icy Kansas rain. Their plan is to meet up when the weather clears and head for the airport and parts unknown.

Watching Charlie realize that he would be all but incapable of dealing with the normal perils of Christmas Eve, much less a Christmas Eve on which he has just committed an extraordinarily dangerous crime. He all but hangs a sign around his neck saying that he's leaving town. He wonders from one of his usual haunts to another being nice to people and trying to seduce the one woman he's lusted after for years, the lovely Renata (Connie Nielsen) who seems to manage a seedy strip club. He knows that his boss's chief hit-man is looking for him, but keeps going to familiar places none-the-less. He eventually hooks up with a friend, Pete (Oliver Platt), who is, perhaps, the only person in town who is both more drunk than Charlie and less equipped to deal with the miasma of holiday cheer in which they find themselves.

While these events start out like a screwball comedy, the movie quickly descends into the morass of complications, lies, secret motivations, and murder that define film noir. It amazed me just how dark the movie became. It moves from scenes of incredible humor, such as Oliver Platt showing the kind of simultaneous recklessness and concern for his body that is endemic of drunks or Billy Bob Thorton and John Cusack discussing whether a Lincoln or a Mercedes is more suited to transporting a body, to scenes filled with an almost nausea-inducing sense of dread and despair. Despite all the wonderful performances and spot on dialogue, I think the aspect of this film that shines the most is it's ability to shift gears and tone so seamlessly without betraying it's characters and plot.

I won't give away the ending, but I would be remiss if I didn't mention how perfect it is. The last scene of this movie proves that the filmmakers know the noir genre well enough to know exactly how they should end if they could end happily, though they can't.

There is a monster in this film. A monster who wears a human's face and has a man's name. Like all the greatest movie monsters he has in him equal parts evil and sadness. Despite the heinous acts he commits, we feel sympathy for him because he is a product of his circumstances and driven by unmanageable obsessions and desires.

This movie is set in Spain in the year 1939 very near the end of the Spanish Civil War. Most of the action takes place in a forsaken boarding school in the middle of nowhere where the sons of dead fathers are cared for by the wife of a dead husband. A newly arrived boy by the name of Carlos (Fernando Tielve) serves as the audience's window into this isolated world where ghosts and secrets lurk everywhere. Through young Carlos we meet the trio of men who are our main characters.

Jacinto (Eduardo Noriega) is a young man who grew up in the boarding school where he now serves as caretaker. Jacinto cannot see his own blessings. Even though he has a pretty young wife and a safe harbor from the horrors of the war around him, Jacinto remains unsatisfied. He wants more. Jancito is convinced that if he can just get to the communist gold that the school's headmistress is hiding, he will be able to buy a new life and wipe away the shame he feels. In the meantime, he scowls his way across the school's yard and terrorizes the young boys who must be a daily reminder of his own lonely path.

Jacinto occasionally employs young Jaime (Íñigo Garcés) to help him in his various tasks. Jaime is the largest, and perhaps the oldest, of all the boys at the school. He's sullen, profane, and given to bullying those around him, especially Carlos. Despite the bullying, Jaime never comes off as a bad kid. He seems rather to be frustrated and afraid. He has dreams of being an artist and a secret yearning for Chonchita (Irene Visedo), Jacinto's young wife. But he seems all too aware of the war and situation it places him in. Maybe it's not the war. Jaime definitely has secrets of his own. He knows something about the missing boy, Santi, and the sighing ghost that seems to have taken a particular interest in Carlos. Is it sadness or guilt or fear that dictates Jaime's behavior? Is it all three at once?

If Jaime is a young reflection of Jacinto, then Dr. Casares (Federico Luppi) serves as the caretaker's foil. Casares is an old man and even the woman he loves, Carmen (Marisa Paredes), the school's headmistress, refers to him as meek. He is meek, but he is also loyal, kind, and smart. He watches over the boys of the school keeping them in line and keeping them healthy, but his true motivation for staying is his unrequited love. He recites poetry to his mirror while he dresses, knowing that Carmen can hear him on the other side of the wall. In a sad way, his poise and manners evokes the nobility of Spain before the war.

These three men serve to show the effect of the war on Spain itself. How it is killing Spain's glorious past, warping its young men into monsters, and depriving its children of a future. The conflict between these three men is just a metaphor for the struggle taking place in the world outside their school. The ending gives hope for the younger generation, but a dire hope that comes at a great cost.

I realize I've spent this whole review talking about the movie's characters and have barely mentioned the ghost that haunts the school. This is what marks the film as so unique. The ghost is frightening and evocative. He seems to threaten the other boys, but may also just be trying to warn them. He's genuinely creepy, even when the camera is pointed right at him (which can't be said of a lot of movie ghosts). He serves an important function in the story, but is not the central figure in the movie. The mystery of his death and continued existence serves the greater plot, not the other way down. How many movie's have you seen where the supernatural elements are neither extraneous nor do they take center stage at the expense of the story? Not many. That's why movie's like this should be treasured when they do come along.