Reviews

I think that if this movie had been an interactive venture, where technological revolutions allowed characters to jump off the screen and interact with the audience, I would choose to be first of all, tortured by the limp and weak willed dentist played by Mathew Perry, and then assassinated by the hitman, played, with incredible deftness by Bruce Willis, rather than watch the film.

What a complete cacophony of cinematic self indulgence. The "story" is simpler than the idiot characters in the film. Man in miserable marriage happens to learn that next door neighbour is a hitman with a beautiful wife. There's the obligatory 10 million dollars involved, lots of so-called "treachery and betrayal" (nothing out of place in your average group of friends), and absolutely pointless nudity of the "Carry On Doctor" variety (not that the bare chest of Amanda Peet is anything to complain about, it was just about the only redeeming feature of the film).

As for Mathew Perry, well, there's no doubt about it, he has comedy exuding from his pores, and there are times in the movie, when in a slapstick rage, he performs some hilariously comic moments. But not enough, and not sufficiently weaved into the plot. Nice try Mathew. There's also a small role by Michael Clark Duncan, fresh from his brilliant performance in the Green Mile as a fellow hitman. Unfortunately there was nothing substantial in this for him to flex his considerable acting abilities, but rather a chance to play the nice but clearly capable cold-blooded killer with muscles.

In all, it looked like a collection of actors, who, whilst waiting for the scripts of the film they were really working on to comeback from the printers, decided to have a few laughs and left the camera rolling. Give this one a miss and catch Mathew Perry doing his 'thing' on Friends.

"Why are you so depressed?" my girlfriend sometimes asks me. I look at her vacantly and return my gaze to the poster where lies the thing my heart yearns for. She is slender, aesthetically perfect in every sense, powerful, sexy, and yet, even in her silence she roars across the asphalt of my imagination.

She, much to the amusement of my girlfriend, is a 1967 Shelby Mustang GT500, and I, like many other adoring fans around this globe would like to do the things "the Cage" does to this car in the movie. I want one, I do not have one, and therefore my life is incomplete.

The plot, unsurprisingly is simple. A car thief (Nicholas Cage) who previously was forced into retirement for reasons which won't be disclosed here, is persuaded to get involved in one last all or nothing car heist. In the process of planning this heist, he comes across a London gangland boss, his lost love (a real girl not the car), the ever lasting loyalty of his colleagues, and finally his relationship to his brother, which has been under considerable strain since his absence. The film is saved by Cage's usual likeable charisma. His character is a self effacing good-guy-thief, who, as usual in these films, is able to turn to his nasty side for help when a family member / car body part / girlfriend is being threatened, and does so with as much wit as he does violence and driving skills.

Trademark Bruckheimer signs everywhere - noise, great soundtrack, adrenaline pumping sounds of extremely powerful engines and of course the pre-requisite sizzler accessory - Angelina Jolie.

The movie itself is not as much of a mess as I expected, except for the sometimes over sentimentality of Cages' relationship to both his family and his ex-partners in crime. And here lies the crux of the movie. It seems to be about doing what you shouldn't; about wanting things you can't have; about getting involved with things you know you really shouldn't; and yet, despite all the warning signs it's absolutely inevitable.

Cage's involvement in the crime is justified by his need to save a life, but one is able just for a moment to glean the sheer primal and base satisfaction that is derived from punching the pedal and escaping the everyday confines of life, towards a better place, even if it's only for a moment of pure, unadulterated pleasure. It is in part a film about human nature and the sheer power of desire that drives our every move.

But someone should have remembered it should also have been a film about cars, sex, and bad guys, all of which there simply wasn't enough. There is a great car chase at the end of the film with Cage driving the now legendary Mustang, but somehow there should have been more of this.

Buckle up, leave your mind behind and enjoy the ride.

Review: The Sixth Sense, Director: M. Night Shyamalam

As a film which has undoubtedly caught the eye of the film going world, it was difficult to avoid the surrounding hype and publicity. Luckily most of the people I had spoken to who had seen the film did not spoil the 'twist' at the end, which, although is rather a laboured point by now in reviews, certainly adds to the "Oh, I see now" factor.

The story revolves around a child psychologist played characteristically by Bruce Willis. I say characteristically, because although his portrayal is quite real, and at times touching, there always seems to be an unnerving 'Die Hard'-ness to his speech, lending the dialogue some comical qualities. Having said that, his overall attempts at revealing the vulnerable and disturbed psyche of his character achieve good results. As the psychologist, he is plagued by a particular event in his professional life which he perceives as his personal failure, and sets out to redeem himself by righting the wrong and wiping his failure from his conscience. This opportunity presents itself to him in the form of Cole Sear, played devastatingly well by Hayley Joel Osment. Cole has a problem, he sees dead people. To the outside world he is seen as a loner, a problem child, and has become increasingly isolated. Hence the need for a child psychologist. Once we have been introduced to these two central players, we are taken on a journey of discovery, as both of these characters in the space of the film will learn a great deal about each other, themselves and human nature.

It is this particular point which the film attempts to address so strongly - human communication. That when this breaks down, an inevitable cycle of interpersonal destruction takes course, sometimes irreversible. This is framed within the context of a superbly told ghost story. The sheer truthfulness and honesty with which the concept of fear is expressed by all the characters, is breathtaking. Cole's' experience of the walking dead, appearing out of nowhere, Malcolm's fear of a deteriorating marriage, and Cole's' mother's fear relating to her own existential angst. All of these are played against the backdrop of the often difficult but finally warm relationship between Cole and Malcolm. Eventually, and against the odds, each character displays courage and bravery as they face up to their existential and supernatural fears.

There are one or two niggling problems plot wise, but in a film where the overall atmosphere created is one which encompasses death, fear, and finally hope, it is impossible not to overlook incongruencies. Superb direction, acting and ambience lead me to think that M. Night Shyamalan has really succeeded in telling a chillingly touching story about the triumph of the human spirit.

February 14, 2000 Harshad C. Keval

Martin Lawrence is the kind of chap who has the ability to make dead people laugh. Having said that, he also requires the right material, and a sufficiently "straight" straight man to bounce his comic genius off, and someone who doesn't mind him rippling his humour muscles every other sentence. Bad boys managed to do this in a spectacularly showy Hollywood blockbuster fashion, and to great effect. The symphony of a great soundtrack, believable acting, and a bigger budget than the Red Cross Aid to Rwanda, resulted in a pure adrenaline pumping movie experience.

Blue Streak on the other hand seems to be Lawrence's attempt to stand-alone and away from what might have been perceived as celluloid crutches. Understandable really, the talented comedian wants to prove himself. However, it isn't quite managed in this albeit not-so-dumb plot of a jewel thief who, whilst escaping from the police manages to hide his goods in what will soon become the LA police department building. He only realises this after the building is finished. I won't give the game away as to how he goes about retrieving the jewel, but there are some genuinely funny moments which had me almost clutching my sides. Unfortunately, these funny moments, rather than being woven cleverly into the fabric of the film and the plot, appear to stand alone, like quick comedy sketches, almost as if we need to be reminded of what Lawrence is capable of.

Lawrence has already proved his has comedy genius running through his blood, and that given the right material can have audiences caring for his character and laughing with him. However I think he needs stronger scripts if he is ever to go beyond the character he played in Bad Boys.

Wait for this to adorn the local video or DVD rental store, and wait for Lawrence to get his teeth into something much more substantial.

Harshad C. Keval Basel Switzerland January 26, 2000

As a graphic portrayal of a paranoid schizophrenic medieval peasant girl fighting for the feminist cause under the guise of a nationalist freedom fighter, it managed to keep me from yawning too often amongst my fellow cinema goers. If however, it was intended as an honest bio-pic of a national hero, venerated and canonised by the Vatican 500 years after her brutal execution, then I'm afraid I'd rather spend the money on a history book, and settle down with a bottle of wine, whilst my more than adequately vivid imagination works wonders making its own mental images.

Sometimes you enter a cinema wanting to know more about the historical subject of the film. And, sometimes, perhaps because of the clever direction or writing of the screenplay, you leave knowing less than before, but only because the film raises important social, historical and ethical issues. When I left the cinema, I wanted to demand that someone, somewhere pay for the celluloid atrocity I had been subjected to. The entire premise of the film seemed to be based on the irritating ramblings of a girl who was hearing voices. Apparently our disturbed Joan decided that these were messages from God, and being particularly vulnerable to apparitions, illusions, call then what you will, deemed herself God's messenger to the people of France. The battle between the English and French for control of Orleans is the political back drop for the life of simple Joan, who reveals in all her heavenly innocence, after defeating the English in a battle, that bloodshed is not what she wants (whilst standing amidst the slaughtered remains of hundreds of French soldiers).

The diplomatic relations between the English and the French are stretched to breaking point, until the Dauphin of France is crowned King - a victory he attributes to the efforts of Joan. However, since war is expensive her usefulness ceases to be obvious and negotiations between these hostile enemies are resumed. Whilst the French masses die of hunger and poverty, ignorant of the callous neglect with which the monarch carries out his duties, Joan waits for more signs from the only authority she recognises. Our imbalanced heroin is determined to fight the good fight and continue on to Paris. With a reckless neglect of her soldiers not dissimilar to her own King, she is forced to face the horrific reality of the situation - that unlike her, politics has no cause. The French monarchy soon starts to get jittery with this religious loose cannon and, although we all more or less know about Joans' eventual demise, I wont' spoil the ending.

The most interesting scenes by far are Joan's conversations with her conscience whilst she is awaiting trial (played comically by Dustin Hoffman) which ultimately lead her to question her motives in fighting for her cause. However, the bigger and far more important questions are related to her own mental health. Events in her child hood had indeed left her scarred and undoubtedly result in her fanatical actions but the full extent of her psychoses are never really looked into, apart from the reckless manner in which she lunges into battle.

Don't get me wrong, I regard the visual and auditory imagery of Mr. Besson's films as amongst the most powerful and vivid in the film business, especially considering the sheer volume pumped out of the industry. However, this time I believe the imagery was created at the expense of a well-written screenplay, and would have benefited from a more insightful examination of the fragmented and disturbed personality that was Joan, rather than the superficial look at the religious crusader whom we have heard so little about in depth.

Try and get hold of a good book that deals with the subject matter in a more entertaining and informative way.

Harshad C. Keval Basel Switzerland January 25, 2000