Reviews

I sat for a couple hours after seeing Ocean's Twelve trying to figure out why Soderbergh and gang had made such an outrageous film. Too much of it didn't add up: the ridiculous laser system guarding the egg in the museum and the equally ridiculous way in which it was defeated; the flashbacks containing information that completely undermined the apparent narrative thrust; Julia Roberts' plot twist and the avalanche of seemingly nonsensical and irrelevant self-reference that immediately followed; O12 had me completely stumped. Until I re-interpreted these scenes as clues towards something else: that O12 is not, in fact, a heist movie, but a *satire* of the heist movie.

Why else would someone of Sod's stature overstuff the film with clichés, like the enigmatic and debonair master thief, and the colorful and completely trustworthy team of people who would never exist in real life? One character (the woefully underused Eddie Izzard) even overtly mentions that one particular element of the film is a cliché -- but he doesn't say what it is a cliché *of*. Notice all the decoys, impostors, holograms, secret languages... O12 is littered with breadcrumbs, and I'm willing to believe that there was never actually a spec script called "Honor Among Thieves." As a heist movie, it falls flat on its face, arguably worse than Hudson Hawk (which suffered more from sheer goofiness overload, rather than bewildering nonsense). It simply does not make sense. How did the Night Fox get into that house in Amsterdam? Conveniently not explained. How did Benedict find all of the Twelve at once? Conveniently not explained. How did Julia Roberts' plot twist work, while Matt Damon is with her but does not experience the same story change? Conveniently brushed off. How in the name of Zeus did a certain someone show up out of the blue while the gang was locked up and help them with a certain problem? How was this individual aware of certain aspects of Isabel Lahiri's paperwork? An outlandish narrative convenience... or a satire of the genre? Why was so little narrative dedicated to convincing the audience of Benedict's extremely vindictive motivation? How else do you explain the obvious expenses the thieves racked up in their very quest to make money? I mean, come on, when Damon and the other two remaining thieves start spouting off all the heist jargon as they try to figure out a contingency plan... it's preposterous. No one talks like that.

Maybe I'm reaching. But either way you slice it, O12 is much, much more enjoyable as a *satire* of the heist film. That's the only way I can understand the film. I know why a sequel was made, certainly: The original made over $450 million dollars worldwide, far and away Sod's most financially successful film. Its closest competitor is Erin Brockovich, which made a little over $250M worldwide, and Traffic clocks in at a little over $200M. Successful, certainly, but not blockbusters like O11 was. A sequel was as inevitable as death and taxes. So it occurs to me that Sod decided he might as well have fun with it -- screw with the audience a little, poke fun at the actors themselves (good naturedly), and they still walked away with about $360M.

There also might be a meta-commentary going on about American audiences and how little they catch on to stylistic subversion (I am an American myself, for the record) but it's pure speculation. All I can tell you is that O12 simply does not work as a straightforward film and can really only be enjoyable as a satire. There's simply too many outrageous scenes and too many clichés. There are simply too many lines of dialog that only make sense if the whole movie is a genre skewer. It's also much easier on my brain. And I'd like to think that Sod hadn't morphed into a cynical robber baron who no longer cared about making a good movie.

If you can get around Paul Weitz's cramming in of every current folk song he can think of, Cameron Crowe-style, then you're in for a surprisingly honest and entertaining movie that doesn't fall into typical Hollywood glurge traps.

In a nutshell, In Good Company is about making personal connections in a fast-paced globalized world, and how "corporate synergy" dehumanizes the white-collar work force and ends up offering the customer fewer choices and manufactured competition. It stops short of bringing up straw-man arguments (where you create an exaggerated opposition and knock it down with one-sided opinions). It's also a relationship movie, and a family movie. Despite these disparate elements, Weitz and gang are able to bring together a tapestry where the main characters have lives outside their day jobs and day jobs that heavily impact their personal lives.

There are many funny moments, and it's my favorite kind of humor: appropriate reactions to the trials and tribulations of life, rather than pratfalls, manic behavior, and toilet jokes. However, while there are some pitch-perfect performances, with Quaid as the exasperated and likable father of two teenage girls, Clark Gregg as a soulless corporate hit-man, and Topher Grace as, well, as the same guy he's been since That 70s Show -- self-effacing, witty, vulnerable -- Scarlett Johansson delivers the most low-key performance I've ever seen from her.

Granted, the script doesn't give her a lot to work with, and perhaps they hadn't initially had someone in mind with her range and depth, but as the love interest, it's important to the story and to Grace's motivation that she's actually interesting and engaging. Instead, the movie doesn't even grant Grace a subconscious reason for falling for this girl, and he even says something along the lines of, "I can talk to like this, and I can't to anyone else... and I don't know why." Well, figure it out, man, because since she's the daughter of the man who's job you just got and know works directly under you, you better have a damn good reason for not keeping your hands off her.

But like I said, the movie doesn't wrap everything up in a neat little bun like I was expecting, and that gets big point from me. You've seen a million movies like this one that took the easy way out, but In Good Company does not. It respects the audience. It's not a Hallmark Card, but a memo from your conscience, a meditation on growing older, and a reminder of the power of believing in what you do for a living. Could have used a little less of the dreamy soundtrack, and a little more Johansson, but it's definitely worth checking out, in my opinion.

The first Transporter was decent good fun -- lots of explosions, great fight scene set pieces, lots of relatively tasteful sexuality. Unfortunately, the sequel is beyond insulting. When the entire audience starts laughing hysterically because of some offensively nonsensical moments that have to be seen to be believed, two things come to mind: One, this film is a steaming pile; two, was this steaming pile screen tested anywhere? Transporter 2 has little of the fight scene set pieces that made the original so neat. There's a set piece with a fire hose, but even that doesn't approach the fight in the first film where Statham is covered in oil and fighting a dozen goons with weighted shoes.

And beyond some patently ridiculous vehicular acrobatic feats, there's also gaping holes of logic wide enough to drive an army through. Minor spoiler here: In two scenes, Statham is talking to a guy sitting at a computer that has access to a criminal database. Now, based on nothing more than a single photograph, the computer guy is able to sprinkle magic dust on his keyboard and pull up the guy's file in a matter of seconds. No name, no alias, no criminal history, place of birth -- anything. Just a photo. Although Transporter 2 gets points for not trying to "enhance" the photo, they get docked heavily for turning a criminal database into The All-Powerful Jesus of Fight 'Em Justice.

Moving right along. The entire soundtrack should have been left on the cutting room floor. It didn't help that the THX theater speakers were cranked up to 12, but the punishingly overbearing music never leaves an iota of space for things like, oh, subtlety or tension. Sometimes a scene is much more powerful without music. I think Transporter 2 could have held up on its own as trashy summer action, but with the clobbering Fight Music, Tension Music, and Celebration Music, this film ends up bludgeoning itself and the audience into numbness.

You have to do more than just turn your brain off for something as bad as this. You have to not respect yourself as a moviegoer, because it sure doesn't feel like these people respect us. The jarring juxtaposition of brutal violence and PG-13 titillation; of the hero's noble intentions without any motivation; and of talented actors trapped or letting themselves be trapped in this incredible disaster is almost beyond comprehension, until you factor in the cynical condescension that permeates mainstream Hollywood.

I'd give it a zero if I could.

With breathless propaganda on one side and jaded boredom on the other, it's hard to make heads or tails of the comments so far. I personally think it's a solid, surprisingly nuanced film. It has some logic holes, and Brian Cox is woefully underused, but it's otherwise a fine way to spend some time in the theater. I saw it tonight at an advanced screening, and it seemed to be a crowd pleaser. People hooted, screamed, applauded, and gasped.

I think the camera was just about glued to McAdams the whole time, but that's not so bad because she's very attractive. The film style is pretty claustrophobic for most of the film, and Craven was meticulous in capturing the quirks of human nature and how people really interact. His grasp of behavior makes for some very authentic and entertaining interactions, and he builds on each scene involving the co-stars, resulting in some satisfyingly fist-shaking conclusions to their sub-plots. It's also amazing how much plot and characterization he was able to pack into a relatively short film. Red Eye is dense with detail, and you really have to keep your eyes on the screen the whole time if you want to keep up.

His career has been all over the map, quality-wise, and I'm glad to see him finally move away from high concept shlock, market-tested alt-rock soundtracks, random assortments of Young Beautiful People as his principals, and embarrassingly crappy scripts. It's almost as if someone else directed the film, chose the material, and approved the cast. I expected Murphy to be competent, but I was really impressed by McAdams. I haven't seen The Notebook yet, but I think this will be her breakout role. I found her harrowingly convincing, up until the end.

While I see her motivations from the director's point of view, I don't think the depth of her capabilities was sufficiently established for me to fully believe she could do what she ended up doing. I think the problem is that Craven is just not used to this kind of endgame territory. Hopefully he'll keep at it, though, because this is the best film of his I've seen since the original Scream. Unfortunately, judging by the list of films he's on track to produce, this looks like a thematic one-off for a career slashmeister.

I guess I shouldn't have expected much from the director of the aggressively forgettable Taxi. Taken as a whole, the script feels like something that--at one point--had meat on its bones but was badly mishandled and mangled by a mission to prioritize merchandising over delivering a competent film. While this mercenary cynicism isn't surprising to find in a high-concept summer blockbuster, it's a disappointing step backwards after Batman Begins and the X-Men and Spider-Man films. Tim Story and his screenwriters don't seem to get the appeal of the Fantastic 4 or grasp the dignity granted to X-Men and Spider-Man. Worse, I can't tell how much they really care about being faithful to the source material.

Also, some migraine-inducing plot stupidity drains whatever enjoyment you might get from some snappy dialog or from ogling Jessica Alba.

Let's say, hypothetically, that you save a man from getting hit by a truck, but in the process you cause a massive pileup, a chain reaction that leads to people dangling over precipices and flying into the abyss. Dozens of bystanders witness the domino fallout of events. Yet because you manage to salvage this traffic catastrophe that you created, you are hailed as a hero as soon as the dust settles. The plot of Fantastic 4 is shot through with nonsensical set pieces like this that. By the time the film wraps up its by-the-books, slam-bang action movie conclusion, you're mind will probably already be working on where you parked your car.

Surprisingly, Alba was the most consistently engaging character, despite the script she had to work with. She managed to utter reams of inane dialog with charming dignity and made her character almost believable. She's also nice to look at, and the cinematographer new how to make her shine. Or maybe I'm just a sucker for a pretty face.

I was astounded to learn of the devastating firebombing of Japan during WWII. I was fascinated by his take on Vietnam, which he pitched as a struggle against a stubborn President, where Johnston wanted to win the war against Communism at all costs. I was moved by his moments of sadness and regret.

But with no counterpoint throughout this epic-length interview, I still don't know what to take away from it. How much of it is his own personal spin, custom tailored to reduce the stain on his legacy? Why was he given such latitude on discussing Vietnam--going into exhaustive detail here, but clamming up there? And his reluctance didn't appear to be an issue of justified secrecy. I was impressed by his overall frankness, but this is far more an interview (although a very good one) than a proper documentary.

Some minor spoilers in here...

With a score of only 5.8, I think Blue Iguana is destined to be lost in the attic of the indie film world. Personally, I think it was a moving and compelling portrait five refreshingly real people, and I didn't even know it was improv until I saw the credits. The pace will be a little slow at times for some viewers--I won't lie about that. But there's a grace to each scene, and a lack of artifice that scripted action and dialog can bring. The scene with Sandra Oh and Kristen Bauer in the dressing room is astonishing because I don't think there's a single cut or a bit of camera movement for what felt like ten minutes--but it's still gripping.

Not each scene works smoothly, and the individual plot lines of each character sometimes get a little bogged down, but I'm glad I spent the two hours or so winding my way through this film. My main gripe is that Sheila Kelley's (Stormy's) involvement wasn't as well integrated into the film as others, and she could have been completely cut out of the film, in my opinion, without losing the story's power. That always seems to be a pitfall when you do a ensemble cast piece.

It's a good film, yeah, but I would hardly say that the aggressively mediocre dialog (and line delivery) was rare, or that McDiarmid's performance was riveting. I think he did the best job of the lot--until he turned into a B-movie hambone channeling an inebriated combination of Emperor Ming and Baron Vladimir Harkonnen. I mean, really.

The dialog wasn't what continually hobbled the momentum of scenery and action. It was Lucas' infamous and near-total lack of actor direction that kept these otherwise fine actors twisting in the wind. For those of who who praise the film and throw people like me a few crumbs by saying, "Yeah, there were a few weak points," take another very close look at Ewan McGregor's reaction when he discovers that Anakin has slaughtered THE ENTIRE JEDI TEMPLE. Does he look completely shaken, like he should--or just temporarily wobbly? Look again.

When Padme is finally faced with the fact that her husband and the father of her child is a *raving psychopath*, does she scream and run back into the ship... or does she whimper and argue with him some more?

When Obiwan confronts Anakin on Mustafa...why in *holy hell* does he bother debating anything with a person who's just slaughtered *the entire Jedi Temple*, including *women and children*?

Why did Windu have to go out like a bitch?

The moments I've described do not dominate the film, no. The problem is that these are *the most important moments in the movie*.

So please, get a grip. It's not a great film. It just looks nicer and it doesn't suck like the other two did. As there is no reward for acceptable behavior, there shouldn't be praise heaped on Episode III just because it didn't disappoint us as much as the previous two installments did. I hate to break it to the fanboys, but the prequel trilogy is now officially "Pretty All Right, I Guess, But I'd Rather Be at a Barbecue or Something." Thanks for playing.

Yes, there are spoilers in here. Believe me, you're not missing much by reading this review and skipping the film. If you're a fan of Jolie, it's fun to watch, because she's quite attractive and gets naked. After the sex scene, though, I recommend stopping the film there. So why have I written such a long-winded review? Because Jolie and Hawke are typically compelling reasons to see a film, and I must explain why, in this case, it's not worth it. They do fine in their roles but are be betrayed by poor and confusing film-making.

Of all the movies I've seen, I've never stopped watching so far in, due to an unbelievably stupid plot triple combo punch of plot twists and bizarre film technique. It's actually a rat's nest of problems that don't appear until the end of the film. Thematically, Sutherland's actual role spins him around in the end, into a cheesy and underdeveloped plot point.

Secondly, the car chase. There is a VERY CLEAR shot of the passenger holding a gun to the driver's head, before they get to the bridge. It is presumed to be Hawke driving and Sutherland pointing the gun at his head. This is shot from the objective point of view (POV). Just a camera following the car chase. But this scene is replayed from Jolie's POV, in a recall flashback, after she discovers who the killer is, and we see Hawke in the driver's seat the whole way--with Sutherland shot to death before he even entered the vehicle.

It is not possible on any terms for the viewer to see the passenger with a gun, viewed from an objective POV, then see a subjective POV that makes the previous objective POV *impossible*. The objective POV in film-making is inherently incapable of lying. The director can and will lead you astray with ambiguous cinematography, but the shot of the passenger holding the gun to the driver's head was completely UNambiguous. So it's either incompetent cinematography or incompetent storytelling. Or both! It got really difficult to tell, or care, once I got to the clincher. Furthermore, the twist of Sutherland being dead before the chase began wasn't the trouble.

Before Jolie found out that Hawke was the killer, she had sex with him. (In another betrayal of form, the director doesn't let the protagonist piece it together on her own--she finds him literally red-handed, standing over his mother's dead body in an elevator. She doesn't have her piece-it-together flashback until AFTER she's found Hawke in the elevator. To me, this reveals either further incompetence and ignorance, or shows how little respect and/or knowledge the creators have for suspense thrillers, the audience, and for Jolie in particular--a nice piece of meat who's willing to show some skin for the camera. In this genre, it's paramount that the investigator uncovers the truth, rather than stumbling almost randomly upon the killer in the act. You could argue that the director went this route because he assumed most of the audience had figured this out by now, but the flow of suspense keeps Hawke's role marginally but clearly in doubt, and the sudden deflation of Jolie's investigatory momentum is, regardless, decidedly against genre.) Anyways, we have the killer's big escape, and then we skip ahead several months. She's lost her job, on account of boning the killer, she lives in some barren, snowy town, in an out-of-the-way house...and she's PREGNANT. She KEPT the BABY.

Now, maybe she was just using some prop to fool Hawke into coming to her or whatever, and she isn't really pregnant. But you know, after seeing the badly done car chase, the manner of of the killer's identity being revealed, etc. I couldn't bring myself to watch the movie any longer. That's right--I don't know how it ends. The film asked too much of my suspension of disbelief, and this is coming from a life-long fan of all things science-fiction. I felt like I'd wasted the last hour and a half or so of my life, and you probably will too if you somehow get roped into seeing this bewilderingly piece. The most compelling mystery this film provided was wondering if it was the result of cynical contempt, depressing incompetence--or both. Jolie's presence becomes the only thing that makes it watchable.