Posts tagged review
‘The Tourist’: Movie review and trailer
Dec 11th
Angelina Jolie and Johnny Depp provide scenery for this classic tale BY JOE TYRRELL NEWJERSEYNEWSROOM.COM MOVIEW REVIEW
As a star vehicle, “The Tourist” aims for high-octane excitement but settles for comfortable luxury.
With Angelina Jolie and Johnny Depp providing the scenery, Venice and Paris are mere backdrops for another retelling of the classic tale of regular guy lured into danger by mysterious dame.
We meet the woman first, as Jolie’s fashionably dressed Elise Clifton-Ward struts through suitably chic Parisian locations, lingering just long enough at a café to receive a conspiratorial note from her presumed lover.
The hapless bicycle courier who delivers it is immediately arrested by a multi-national gang of cops/spies/revenue agents/whatever who have been tailing Elise.
The term “tailing” has never been more appropriate, because they have been using their high-tech surveillance equipment to zoom in on her derrière as their van follows about 30 feet behind her.
What’s a femme fatale to do? Why, turn her high beams on an innocent stranger, leaving him dazzled while blinding those bumbling lawmen to their real relationship.
Of course, the stranger is Depp, so we expect a slightly irregular guy. That’s not the first impression he makes as Frank, a weedy math teacher from Wisconsin reading a spy novel on a train leaving Paris.
The only offbeat touch is Frank’s surname, Tupelo, a very weak signal that something is up. (Fun fact: white settlers in Mississippi called Tupelos black gum trees, and originally named their town Gum Pond.) Nevertheless, Elise sits down by him and this train has left the station.
A half century and more has passed since Alfred Hitchcock — with writers like John Michael Hayes and Ernest Lehman — took this potboiler plot and polished it to a high gloss in “To Catch a Thief,” “North by Northwest” and other cinema classics.
But “The Tourist” has a somewhat less exalted background, drawing from Jérôme Salle’s 2005 film “Anthony Zimmer.” So “The Tourist” is more like a second-generation Hitchcock copy.
Still, director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck would seem to have the background for this material. He made “The Lives of Others,” one of the great movies of the past decade, about a surveillance operation by the Stasi, the East German secret police, and its impacts on both the watched and the watchers.
The team spying on Elise, led by Paul Bettany as some British finance cop, seems creepily Stasi-like. Their high-powered weapons and pervasive bugs and cameras are undermined by an inability to do simple things, like get a picture of her larcenous lover.
This unseen mastermind has stolen billions from a respectably murderous British gangster (Steven Berkoff), who employs Russian muscle just to maintain movie stereotypes.
Classic and more recent clichés mount up as Depp and Jolie exchange smoldering glances. Or at least, glances. While Angelina is a throwback to screen queens of the past — Sophia Loren or Claudia Cardinale, plus an artificial veneer — Depp makes a very post-modern Cary Grant.
“The Tourist” is at its sharpest playing off this dissonance, with Jolie at times the resourceful heroine and Depp the jeune garçon in distress. They are bolstered by high-priced bit players Timothy Dalton and Rufus Sewell, who each pack their tongues in cheeks.
The checklist of any caper film includes at least a couple of plot twists. One is merely routine. Another has some critics in high dudgeon, but you will probably see it coming, as long as you’re not lost in Depp’s soulful eyes or Jolie’s improbable cheekbones.
“The Tourist” is to Hitchcock what tourism is to travel. But even rushing through a lines of plot checkpoints, you will return home with memories of scenic vistas, not to mention close-up views of two modern monuments, Angelina Jolie and Johnny Depp.
Joe Tyrrell may be reached at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it
Movie Review: The Tourist
Dec 11th
Do you know that ratty old shirt you love, but no one else seems to appreciate? That shirt is The Tourist. Some of the buzz for this movie hasn’t been very impressive, but if you’re looking for a fun two hours, The Tourist can help. It’s an unthreatening caper flick that should appeal to most viewers.
Johnny Depp stars as mild-mannered Wisconsin math teacher Frank Tupelo. Depp’s character is travelling from Paris to Venice, where he’s hoping to have an enjoyable vacation in an attempt to get over a lost loved one. On the train, Tupelo runs into Elise Clifton-Ward (Angelina Jolie), strikes up a conversation, and has dinner with her. What he doesn’t realize is that Elise is actually setting Frank up to take the fall for the man she loves, as he attempts to escape both Scotland Yard and a British gangster from whom he stole a large sum of money. From there, Frank and Elise end up on a mad dash through Venice trying to escape, well, everyone.
From start to finish, The Tourist feels like an old-fashioned caper movie. The shots of Venice are absolutely stunning, and the plot and pace of the movie never seem to bog down the film’s pace. My one real gripe is that I found the movie’s score to be pretty distracting at times. It seems as if every time Depp and Jolie were together on screen, the background music overpowered the scene. I understand the director was probably hoping to depict a sense of whimsy, but it felt over-done and distracting.
Let’s be honest though, the top-notch cinematography, plot, and score aren’t the selling points for this movie. People will be going to the theatres because of how much star power it packs. Aside from Depp and Jolie, the film also boasts a cast rounded out with the likes of Timothy Dalton, Steven Berkoff, as well as A Knight’s Tale alums Paul Bettany and Rufus Sewell.
While Jolie does a fine job as Elise, I feel like there were many people who could have successfully pulled the role off as well. It’s almost as if Jolie is becoming the “go-to” actress for rolls in movies like this. On the other hand, Depp stole every scene he was in. He seems to really be enjoying himself as Frank Tupelo. Depp brought a lot of humor to his character, considering the “fish out of water” situation Frank is in. He goes from mild-mannered tourist to being hunted by gangsters due to mistaken identity, and while he is initially confused by what’s going on, he still has to find ways to survive. His quest for survival is both thrilling and humor. At first, I wasn’t expecting any humor in the movie, but it was a welcome addition and made the movie a bit more fun in my eyes.
Bottom Line: The Tourist is a fun movie that most people will enjoy. Sure, some of it is unbelievable, but it’s an international caper flick that almost feels like you’re watching your favorite thriller novel, so a bit of suspension of disbelief is in order. Depp is in high form and that is worth the price of admission alone. I’m just not sure if I’d be able to watch the movie more than once, because like the ratty old shirt I mentioned, The Tourist might wear a bit too thin after repeat viewings.
Rating: TWO AND A HALF BONES
Release Date: December 10th 2010
Rating: PG-13
Starring: Johnny Depp, Angelina Jolie, Paul Bettany, Timothy Dalton, Steven Berkoff, and Rufus Sewell
Director: Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck
Writers: Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck, Christopher McQuarrie, and Julian Fellowes
REVIEW: ‘The Tourist’ delivers retro thriller with 50s feel
Dec 10th
In the heyday of Hollywood’s Studio Era, there was a simple elegance to movie making. When it was at its best, talented directors would be paired with gifted screenwriters and beautiful movie stars (who also happened to be decent actors) would be filmed in glorious, exotic locales.
Given these parameters, “The Tourist” is a throwback to this bygone era down to its very core.
The plot is elementary Hitchcock, as Johnny Depp plays the classic role of the Wrong Man. He is Frank Tupelo, an American math teacher on vacation in Europe. On a train to Venice, he meets Angelina Jolie, herself playing the classic role of the Mysterious Woman.
Her name is Elise and she is going to meet up with her great love, a fugitive embezzler named Vincent. Her every move is watched by INTERPOL so to throw them off her trail she takes up with Frank in the hope of convincing those who are watching that he is the plastic-surgery-altered Vincent.
Naturally, her ruse works and manages to dupe not only the police, but the ruthless gangster (Stephen Berkoff) from whom Vincent stole an obscene amount of money.
The movie then takes off on a series of chases, captures and escapes as Frank tries to avoid being arrested or killed, all the while falling in love with the resourceful Elise.
When you boil the whole thing down, “The Tourist” is a silly little movie, where the sum of the parts is much greater than that of the whole. That said, the various parts work so well together that it is easy to forgive the movie’s lapses in cohesion and plausibility.
German director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck (how that name doesn’t have an umlaut I’ll never know) knows that his primary job here is to shoot beautiful people doing beautiful things in beautiful places.
He also snagged a writing credit along with screenwriter Christopher McQuarrie (“The Usual Suspects”) who helps keep the screenplay light and the plot-twists from becoming too cumbersome.
“The Tourist” is also boosted by a fine supporting cast, including Paul Bettany as the dogged Scotland Yard agent intent on bringing Vincent to justice, and Timothy Dalton as his politically fixated boss.
But let’s not beat around the bush, you’re going to be plopping down American dollars to see this movie for two reasons and two reasons only, Depp and Jolie. It’s nice to see Depp in a “normal” role, where he’s not buried behind makeup or a crazy accent. He plays the everyman well and it is his restraint in the role that makes his performance fun to watch.
As for Jolie, (bold statement alert) she has never looked more stunningly beautiful in a movie. So often in movies we are supposed to suspend disbelief in regards to the attractiveness of an actress and believe she is a poverty-stricken working mother or a shunned misfit.
It’s almost a relief to see literally every person in the movie, including the extras she passes in the streets, reacting as if she is one of the most beautiful women in the world, which, you know, Jolie actually is.
Depp and Jolie’s chemistry isn’t exactly sizzling, but fortunately the script doesn’t really demand that we be floored by their deep, abiding love, which is yet another old-fashioned convention “The Tourist” embraces.
This movie could have been released in 1954, starring Cary Grant and Grace Kelly and no one would have batted an eye.
I suppose how well received “The Tourist” is depends on how cynical modern audiences have become to this retro form of cinema. As for myself, I’m a total sucker for this stuff and gladly soaked in every frame.
“The Tourist” is rated PG-13 for violence and brief strong language.
Movie review: ‘The Tempest’
Dec 10th
In the face of “The Tempest,” the stormy tragicomedy of rage, romance and redemption that is among Shakespeare’s last and greatest works, Julie Taymor, a filmmaking savant of extraordinary vision and voice, suddenly and surprisingly folds.
This is a tentative film and a disappointment after the brutal brilliance of the writer-director’s adaptation of the Bard’s “Titus” in 1999, in which she proved fearless in staging its tale of revenge. Coming as it did on the heels of her Tony-winning direction of “The Lion King” on Broadway, “Titus” helped seal Taymor’s reputation as an artist of such singular talent that, succeed or fail, she could be counted on to keep it interesting. Until now.
On paper, “The Tempest” seemed promising with Prospero, the exiled Duke of Milan who stirs the pot, put in the hands of a woman, the formidable Helen Mirren. But the “he” has become a “she” in name only. What could have been rich terrain to contemplate instead lies fallow with Prospera behaving very much like Prospero has in a thousand productions of the play through the years. If anything, she is a more disinterested than devoted or calculating mother to daughter Miranda (Felicity Jones) than Prospero as father ever was.
The filmmaker’s screenplay is cautious as well, hewing closely to the original texture of the language and the layering of the plot, when its themes had so many contemporary possibilities. For those with faded memories about the details, “The Tempest” begins with a storm battering a ship filled with old scores to be settled. The castaways are stranded on an island where betrayals and buffoons abound, illusions of wealth tempt, dreams of power corrupt and love thrives — it could have been Washington, or Wall Street, or Hollywood. I only mention this because Taymor has a talent for mixing cultural and visual metaphors — the soldiers in “Titus” sporting designer suits as well as centurion battle wear, the skyscrapers alongside Roman ruins.
Instead, “The Tempest” unfolds on a lava bed of desolation, an unrelentingly bland landscape of rock and sand that dulls the senses at every turn. The film’s troubles began as soon as Prospera raises her staff and calls up the storm that will wreck the boat carrying Antonio (Chris Cooper), the brother who betrayed her, and King Alonso (David Strathairn), the ruler who enabled her downfall. As lightning flashes, thunder roars and waves crash, Shakespeare’s words are all but drowned by the mayhem, and with them the drama.
In this Godforsaken place, Prospera tinkers with mysticism, crystals suspended around the house for peering into, books of spells at hand, otherworldly creatures to do her bidding. Djimon Hounsou is Caliban, the mud-caked savage under her command, a look that might have been more disturbing had the faces of “Titus’” mud-caked returning soldiers not been so haunting first.
Opposite Caliban’s darkness is the radiant light of Ariel (Ben Whishaw), the spirit charged with orchestrating most of Prospera’s Machiavellian games. Whishaw is mesmerizing as he morphs through the air in a whisper of emotions and emoting. He is male, female, genderless, guileless, flying, spinning, translucent as he works his magic on the mere mortals below. The performance is achingly good — because of Ariel’s desire for freedom made real, and for all the possibilities of the other characters that remain unexplored.
The ensemble cast is a strong one and comfortable with the “whilst” and “wherefores,” “thou” and “thines. ” What they are often not comfortable with is one another — a deadly disconnect that leaves too many of them declaiming into the wind, with the usually flawless Mirren sinking badly. Meanwhile “The Tempest’s” young lovers, Jones’ excellent Miranda and King Alonso’s son Ferdinand (a dreamy Reeve Carney) look like a couple of flower power kids borrowed from the Beatle-mania of Taymor’s 2007 “Across the Universe,” yet another part of this puzzling puzzle where the pieces don’t fit.
What does work is the running gag of the jester and the drunken butler, and Taymor did take a chance in casting Russell Brand as the fool against veteran character actor Alfred Molina’s sot. Until his October wedding to pop star Katy Perry, Brand was best known for his spoiled rock star Aldous Snow in the black comedies of “Forgetting Sarah Marshall” and “Get Him to the Greek.” He turns out to be a clever choice, at least for those of us not yet weary of the actor’s antics, for Trinculo is perfectly suited to Brand’s brand of posturing, petulant foolishness.
Perhaps “The Tempest’s” shortfalls should not come as such a surprise. In a way, Taymor has been retreating from her earlier boundary-pushing extremes, at least on screen, for years. Though the vibrant visuals of her 2002 film on Frida Kahlo fed off the tempestuous artist’s rich folk-art style, the movie was at the end of the day a relatively traditional biopic. And “Across the Universe,” with its trippy free-basing style, was psychedelically eye-catching entertainment but not groundbreaking.
“The Tempest” has neither style nor substance. It is virtually devoid of any of what we’ve come to think of as the Taymor touch, that distinctive twist that turns the expected into the exceptional like the towering stilts that elevated the theater of “The Lion King” to such magical heights. The great crime of “The Tempest” is just how ordinary it is.
betsy.sharkey@latimes.com
Movie review: The King’s Speech rules
Dec 10th
The King’s Speech
Starring: Colin Firth, Geoffrey Rush, Helena Bonham Carter
Directed by: Tom Hooper
Parental advisory: strong language, occasional violence
Running time: 118 minutes
Rating: Four stars out of five
Albert Frederick Arthur George — Bertie to his friends; B-b-b-Bertie to his cruel family — had a paralyzing stammer that made speaking in public torture. This was going to be difficult, because Bertie — who had no friends, in fact — was about to be made King George VI of England.
Lionel Logue was an Australian-born speech therapist who ran an offbeat practice in a basement on Harley Street, where he would have his clients roll on the floor, swing their arms to and fro while reciting Jack and Jill, or sing Swanee River. His Majesty was not amused, until he was.
The story of how Lionel helped Bertie learn to speak — speak well enough to tell the British Commonwealth that it was about to go to war with Adolf Hitler — is the story of The King’s Speech. It is a wonderful entertainment, a fascinating history lesson and a showcase for several delightful performances, and if it carries the slight fragrance of a film that was cobbled together to win Oscars, it’s forgivable, because it provides such a good time.
We meet Albert (Colin Firth) speaking at Wembley Stadium in 1925, struggling to get out the words of welcome before an embarrassed crowd. The stutter of his t-t-t-t echoes on the ancient sound system and you’re pretty much on the edge of your seat to hear what comes next; there is an excruciating suspense in listening to Albert try to free words from the strangulation of his tongue.
His wife Elizabeth (a slightly bloated Helena Bonham Carter, bringing a sense of regal irony to the role of the woman who would later be the Queen Mother) searches for doctors to cure him of his condition, a hunt that introduces the visual style of director Tom Hooper (The Damned United), who moves in close with wide lenses to tease out the grotesqueries of speech-therapist quacks or, in the case of Albert, to place him to the side of a wide, otherwise empty screen, a man shuttled to the edge of a blank world.
Elizabeth finds Lionel (Geoffrey Rush), a transplanted Australian with a similarly eccentric disposition — he earns his own edge-of-the-screen placement — who announces, “My game, my castle, my rules,” insisting that “Bertie” (as he calls him, despite much royal objection) come to his offices and follow his odd program. Logue is Henry Higgins to Albert’s Eliza Doolittle, allowing for a change in sex and a reversal of social standing, and it is their relationship — Logue: “Do you know any jokes?” Albert: “Timing isn’t my strong suit” — that forms the basis of The King’s Speech.
Firth’s screen persona is one of repression under the desperate merriment of self-deprecation, but here it is his humanity, rather than the sex appeal of Mr. Darcy, that is repressed: Albert is at bottom a lonely and damaged man, tormented by his father (Michael Gambon as an imperious George V), but also aware of his responsibility as the future king. In one scene, he follows Logue’s instruction to sing rather than talk (it helps stops the stammer) as he tells of a childhood trauma, a heartbreaking moment that provides sharp insight into a royal upbringing.
Rush, on the other hand, remains gaily madcap and turns Logue into a happily unhinged family man, a failed amateur actor who is also something of a psychotherapist, delving into Albert’s childhood, partly for the benefit of the screenplay.
It forms a delightful pas de deux, even though it’s happening at the margins of history: Albert must learn to speak clearly because he is being thrust onto the throne, but his brother David (Guy Pearce), is living the real drama of the age. David has just become Edward VIII, but he is about to abdicate for the sake of the woman he loves, Wallis Simpson (Eve Best), portrayed as a vulgar arriviste with “certain skills acquired in an establishment in Shanghai.” David has the charisma in the family, tinged with the allure of fascism that lurks at its edges. Pearce and Best add a charge of erotic danger, not to mention world-altering importance, that the movie misses when they’re gone.
However, there is plenty of history to go around, and screenwriter David Seidler pulls in other themes, such the advent of radio as a mass communication device. “We’re not a family, we’re a firm,” Albert says (his daughters were Elizabeth, the current queen, and Margaret). “We’ve become actors.” It’s the start of a modern age, when our leaders must speak clearly to rally the troops: Albert is shown admiring the speaking style of Hitler.
In the end, though, The King’s Speech is about friendship, and as the parade of eminent actors goes by — Derek Jacobi as the Archbishop of Canterbury, Jennifer Ehle as Lionel’s wife, Timothy Spall as a cartoonish Winston Churchill — we’re anxious to return to Firth and Rush. Bertie has a speech to deliver, and if he can get it out, we may just win this war (and a few Oscars) after all.
For Jay Stone’s weekly movie podcast, go to www.canada.com/moviereviews.
jstone@canwest.com
canada.com/stonereport
MOVIE REVIEW: Portman gives intense performance in thriller ‘Black Swan’
Dec 10th
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Black Swan (R)
3 stars out of 4
With his 1998 debut (“Pi”) and the 1999 creepy-crawly, tripped-out “Requiem for a Dream,” director Darren Aronofsky staked claim to Alfred Hitchcock’s long-vacant psychological thriller mantle. He then went all loopy with the sci-fi twaddle that was “The Fountain” but redeemed himself with the melancholy, bare-knuckle grit of “The Wrestler.”
“Black Swan” is to the world of ballet what “All About Eve” was to the movie business and makes for an excellent feminine bookend to “The Wrestler.” The lead and the three female supporting characters engage in some of the most brutal, narcissistic, mind-bending cat-fighting ever committed to film. It is amazing to watch the performers deliver the visceral material, but as the story itself unfolds you’ll get the feeling you’re watching a stream of buckling train cars slowly descending off of a cliff.
With a performance that will surely land her an Oscar nomination if not the award itself is Natalie Portman as Nina, a dancer whose drive has left her gaunt, brittle and tentative. Desperate to prove herself to both her company’s autocratic director Thomas (Vincent Cassel) and her smothering, former-dancer mother Erica (Barbara Hershey), Nina wants the lead in an upcoming production of “Swan Lake” which will be the company’s first without outgoing diva Beth (Winona Ryder) whom Thomas has summarily forced into retirement.
Thomas is a brutal taskmaster who attempts to turn his performers’ insecurities into fuel for improvement which is at best ethically questionable. He knows that Nina isn’t the most technically qualified girl for the role — that would be Lily (Mila Kunis) — but also keenly recognizes that if he pushes Nina far enough, he’ll get her to bare her soul and thus deliver a more realized, emotional performance.
Almost immediately Aronofsky sets the tone with jittery, multiple-angle camera work which amplifies Nina’s innate paranoia and also provides the audience with a dancer’s perspective. Whenever in the dance studio or on stage the filmmaker and his designers drain the sets and costumes of all color keeping everything bathed in muted blacks, grays and dull whites. It was a risky decision but ultimately adds to the overall feeling of dread and an almost dreamlike flatness.
Having already more or less experienced what Nina is going through, Erica nonetheless adds to her daughter’s woes by piling on the pressure with incessant brow beating which escalates Nina’s propensity for self-mutilation. As her only significant rival, Lily plays it smart by alternatively being naughty and nice to Nina, often at the same time. The night before an important run-through, Lily whisks Nina away from Erica’s dreary apartment for a night of drink, drugs and clubbing. This provides Nina with a much needed release valve but also delivers one whammy of a morning after thud.
As serious, driven and intense as Portman and Aronofsky are regarding the material, the movie regularly and certainly unintentionally takes on an air of camp and kitsch distantly reminiscent of “Showgirls.” It’s not cheesy by any stretch, but is highly melodramatic and more than a bit exploitative. A prime example comes at the start of the third act with a steamy lesbian sex scene that while key to the story is far more erotic than this type of film requires.
Apart from Aronofsky’s considerable cult base and those of the various performers, “Black Swan” is not something with which mainstream audiences will identify. It’s not quite gruesome or jarring enough to qualify as horror, but is also far too visceral and graphic for those expecting an art film about ballet. The dancing isn’t (by design) perfect and if you go expecting to see a full-length realization of “Swan Lake,” you’ll be disappointed.
The movie proudly defies categorization and does as good of a job at blurring fantasy and reality as any in recent memory. It more than achieves its goals and makes its point, albeit one that many might not care about in the least. (Fox Searchlight)
Movie Review: New ‘Narnia’ hits the high seas for adventure (with video)
Dec 10th
“The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader” Rated PG for some frightening images and sequences of fantasy action. Running time: 115 minutes. This film opens tomorrow.
Grade: B-
A wise man once said — or perhaps it was a wiseacre — that the good guy is only as good as the bad guy is bad.
In adventure tales, a protagonist needs a worthy antagonist to battle, or what’s a heaven for? I believe Robert Browning wrote that last bit.
Anyway, dramatic impact suffers when the hero-villain matchup doesn’t measure up. Imagine if Harry Potter squared off against the Hamburglar instead of Voldemort. Not exactly a fair or exciting fight.
One of the reasons the first “Chronicles of Narnia” film was so effective was it featured an outstanding villain, the White Witch, played by an outstanding actress, Oscar-winner Tilda Swinton. By comparison, the villain in the second “Narnia” film was an evil king played by Sergio Castellitto while the villain in the third “Narnia” film, “The Voyage of the Dawn Treader,” which opens tomorrow, is a green mist furnished by the special effects department. While it’s evil, the mist doesn’t strike much dread in your heart unless you have a vapor phobia. It’s also kind of tough to hate mist like you hate Nazis.
So, if you’re looking for a really good bad guy, you won’t find one in this “Narnia.” Instead, you get a brat, albeit a wretched brat, which is a good thing. Remember Dr. Zachary Smith of “Lost in Space” fame? If he were a child, he’d probably act a lot like Eustace Scrubb played with impudent elan by Will Poulter. He treats his cousins, Lucy (Georgie Henley) and Edmund (Skandar Keynes) Pevensie, as if they were warts in need of a drowning in Compound W.
When “Narnia” opens, Edmund and Lucy are staying with Eustace’s family in World War II-era London while their older siblings, Peter (William Moseley) and Susan (Anna Popplewell), are in America.
Peter and Susan make only brief appearances in this movie, robbing it of another component that made the previous films enjoyable: the family dynamic. This quartet acted like real brothers and sisters who quarreled and fought but still loved one another. We cared about them because they were like us, that is, if we had British accents and cavorted with talking lions. While Peter and Susan’s exit from “Narnia” is explained, their departure saps the film of much of its emotional pull.
Instead, Edmund and Lucy try to tolerate the uber-obnoxious Eustace. He doesn’t believe in their Narnia exploits until he gets magically transported with them through a painting of an ocean into a real ocean. From a special effects standpoint, this represents one of the film’s best scenes.
The three quickly get fished out of the sea by King Caspian (Ben Barnes), the prince from the second film, who’s sailing with a crew on a ship called the Dawn Treader, hence the movie’s title.
Our heroes soon land on an island where they deal with nasty slave merchants. They then land on another island and deal with nasty invisible creatures. They then land on another island and deal with a nasty sea serpent.
In between the battle scenes, our heroes learn of seven lost lords whose swords hold the key to defeating the nasty green mist. So our heroes go looking for the swords. A lame subplot has a father searching for his wife who disappeared in the mist. His young daughter tags along.
For comic relief, the sword-wielding mouse Reepicheep (voice of Simon Pegg, replacing Eddie Izzard) jousts with Eustace, who hates the rodent. Think they’ll form a friendship at film’s end?
Michael Apted, who replaces Andrew Adamson as the “Narnia” director, knows his way around action scenes as his resume includes the James Bond film “The World Is Not Enough.” The scene with the serpent is particularly hairy. The script by committee does him no favors, however.
“Dawn Treader,” like the other films based on the books by C.S. Lewis, also contains enough Christian allegory to satiate a Bible study group. When Aslan (voice of Liam Neeson), the aforementioned lion, says he is called by another name outside of Narnia, he doesn’t mean Leo. Another scene shows waves rising up as did the Red Sea for Moses in “The Ten Commandments.” “We have nothing, if not belief,” says Reepicheep in another scene.
Our heroes are also told to resist temptation or face very unpleasant consequences. Just say no to greed and vanity, and that’s the lesson younger viewers, not steeped in religious studies, should take from the film.
They should also have little trouble enjoying Reepicheep, Eustace and the action scenes. Apart from the serpent, the film doesn’t contain the nightmare-inducing images of the last “Harry Potter” film. The young cast, while not up to “Potter” standards, does exhibit plenty of pluck.
Adults should also be able to enjoy the gorgeous scenery compliments of Australia and New Zealand. What no one will enjoy are the 3-D effects, which add absolutely nothing to the film. Either Hollywood has to stop foisting this technology on audiences or get it right. Viewers, see the less expensive 2-D version and send a message.
Bottom line, “Voyage of the Dawn Treader” should do the trick for folks looking for family entertainment. Just don’t set sail with expectations too high.
Movie Review: ‘The Fighter’ lifted by heavyweight performances
Dec 9th
THE FIGHTER (R for language, drug use and violence.) Cast includes Mark Wahlberg, Christian Bale, Amy Adams, Melissa Leo and Jack McGee. Directed by David O. Russell. At Boston Common, Tremont Street, Boston.
Three out of four stars.
Inrecounting the bare-knuckle lives of Lowell, Mass., boxing legends Dicky Eklund and “Irish” Micky Ward, David O. Russell aims for the level of Cain and Abel, but winds up with something more akin to Dennis and Randy Quaid.
You know the story: older, more talented brother’s penchant for sin and insanity becomes an albatross for younger, big-hearted sibling. It’s literally as old as the Bible. This time, though, nobody dies and Abel prevails, but not without a fight.
Actually, more like dozens of fights –– some in the ring, but far more under the creaky roof of their chain-smoking, whiskey-swilling boxing manager of a mother, Alice Ward.
As the younger, more gullible Micky, Mark Wahlberg goes against type to play one of his more sympathetic characters since Russell’s brilliant “Three Kings.” The bulked-up star not only looks the part of a light welterweight contender, but he also affectingly projects the myopic nature of a man who refuses to see the cracks in the crack-covered pedestal holding up his drug-addicted half-brother.
That would be Dicky, a former light middleweight contender, who self-destructed after a middling boxing career in which he famously knocked down Sugar Ray Leonard in a 1978 bout at Boston Garden. But just about any pugilist will tell you that Dicky Eklund possessed the skills and smarts to be a world champion, if only he had stayed away from the women, wine and crack.
Yet, even when Dicky is stoned or fails to fulfill his duties as Micky’s oft-absent trainer, he repeatedly displays a knack for charming his way out of any fix, an ability that a frighteningly gaunt Christian Bale deftly perfects. He lost 30 pounds for the part, and it shows in his sunken cheeks, buggy eyes and rail-thin physique.
It’s a sad sight, but even sadder is what’s going on beneath the surface, where a promising life has been exhausted to the point that he’s become a parasite on his kid brother, through whom he tries to vicariously reach the goals he was too weak to reach.
Set in the 1990s and shot entirely on location in Lowell, “The Fighter” scales back on the usual boxing-pic trappings to immerse itself in the blue-collar lives of Micky and Dicky’s wildly dysfunctional family, which also includes their seven sisters (all portraying themselves) and Micky’s sweeter-than-an-Irish spring dad, George (Jack McGee from “Rescue Me”). But it’s Alice, played by the outstanding Melissa Leo, who rules the roost from under a short platinum bob.
Leo, resurrecting her pitch-perfect Bawston accent from “The Contender,” delivers her most balls-to-the-wall performance yet. You can tell she’s having a blast, too, ordering people around like Patton and waging war on anyone, especially boxing promoters, trying to lure her Micky away from the family.
Every time Leo is onscreen, “The Fighter” comes deliriously alive and unpredictable, as her Alice captivates you with a combination of attitude and moxie befitting a chain-smoking force of nature in a skin-tight mini-skirt.
Leo is particularly strong when she goes toe-to-toe with Amy Adams as Micky’s new uppity, “college educated” bartender girlfriend, Charlene, who is not afraid of anyone, including Alice. Listening to them trade subtle insults and backhanded compliments are the comedic highlight of a movie that guns the gamut of emotions.
Those sly bits of humor, though, are the film’s greatest gift, though it requires Russell to walk a mighty narrow line between laughing with the family and laughing at them. And while he wanders awfully close at times, Russell never crosses over into parody.
Nor does he fill his story with phony, “Rocky”-like uplift. But that’s not to say the story doesn’t have its “Rocky” moments, particularly down the stretch, when the family is threatening to be torn asunder just as the boxing gods begin to smile on Micky.
It’s quite a conclusion, too. And the less you know about it going in, the bigger the payoff will be. The problem is getting to that point, especially during the film’s plodding midsection, where the story starts to grow repetitive and overstated in depicting Dicky’s many foibles.
That’s not so much Russell’s fault as it is the three writers who each took a swipe at telling Micky and Dicky’s bigger-than-life story. And with each re-write you sense nuance filtered out, depriving the film of the focus and continuity required to make a good movie great.
Still, look for “The Fighter” to be a major player at the Oscars, with Adams, Leo and Bale shoo-ins, along with cinematographer, Hoyte van Hoytema (“Let the Right One In”), who never fails to capture Lowell and its impoverished neighborhoods with a you-are-there clarity.
That level of talent underscores how intently Russell sought to score a knockout. But his inability to sufficiently exploit the chaotic lives of these fascinating characters ruefully results in something nearer a split decision.
MOVIE REVIEW: ‘The Fighter’ lifted by heavyweight performances
Dec 9th
In recounting the bare-knuckles lives of Lowell boxing legends Dicky Eklund and “Irish” Micky Ward, David O. Russell aims for the level of Cain and Abel, but winds up with something more akin to Dennis and Randy Quaid.
You know the story: older, more talented brother’s penchant for sin and insanity becomes an albatross for younger, big-hearted sibling. It’s literally as old as the Bible. This time, though, nobody dies and Abel prevails, but not without a fight.
Or, more like dozens of fights, some in the ring, but far more under the creaky roof of their chain-smoking, whiskey-swilling boxing manager of a mother, Alice Ward.
As the younger, more gullible Micky, Mark Wahlberg goes against type to play one of his more sympathetic characters since Russell’s brilliant “Three Kings.” The bulked-up star not only looks the part of a light welterweight contender, he also affectingly projects the myopic nature of a man who refuses to see the cracks in the crack-covered pedestal holding up his drug-addicted half-brother.
That would be Dicky, a former light middleweight contender, who self-destructed after a middling boxing career in which he famously knocked down Sugar Ray Leonard in a 1978 bout at Boston Garden. But just about any pugilist will tell you that Dicky Eklund possessed the skills and smarts to be a world champion, if only he had stayed away from the women, wine and crack.
Yet, even when Dicky is stoned or fails to fulfill his duties as Micky’s oft-absent trainer, he repeatedly displays a knack for charming his way out of any fix, an ability that a frighteningly gaunt Christian Bale deftly perfects. He lost 30 pounds for the part and it shows in his sunken cheeks, buggy eyes and rail-thin physique.
It’s a sad sight, but even sadder is what’s going on beneath the surface, where a promising life has been exhausted to the point that he’s become a parasite on his kid brother, through whom he tries to vicariously reach the goals he was too weak to reach.
Set in the 1990s and shot entirely on location in Lowell, “The Fighter” scales back on the usual boxing-pic trappings to immerse itself in the blue-collar lives of Micky and Dicky’s wildly dysfunctional family, which also includes their seven sisters (all portraying themselves) and Micky’s sweeter-than-an-Irish Spring dad, George (Jack McGee from “Rescue Me”). But it’s Alice, played by the outstanding Melissa Leo, who rules the roost from under a short platinum bob.
Leo, resurrecting her pitch-perfect Bawston accent from “The Contender,” delivers her most balls-to-the-walls performance yet. You can tell she’s having a blast, too, ordering people around like Patton and wagging war on anyone, especially boxing promoters, trying to lure her Micky away from the family.
Every time Leo is onscreen, “The Fighter” comes deliriously alive and unpredictable, as her Alice captivates you with a combination of attitude and moxie befitting a chain-smoking force of nature in a skin-tight mini-skirt.
Leo is particularly strong when she goes toe-to-toe with Amy Adams as Micky’s new uppity, “college educated” bartender girlfriend, Charlene, who is unafraid of anyone, including Alice. Listening to them trade subtle insults and backhanded compliments are the comedic highlight of a movie that guns the gamut of emotions.
Those sly bits of humor, though, are the film’s greatest gift, although it requires Russell to walk a mighty narrow line between laughing with the family and laughing at them. And while he wanders awfully close at times, Russell never crosses over into parody.
Nor does he fill his story with phony, “Rocky”-like uplift. But that’s not to say the story doesn’t have its “Rocky” moments, particularly down the stretch, when the family is threatening to be torn asunder just as the boxing gods begin to smile on Micky.
It’s quite a conclusion, too. And the less you know about it going in, the bigger the payoff will be. The problem is getting to that point, especially during the film’s plodding midsection, where the story starts to grow repetitive and overstated in depicting Dicky’s many foibles.
That’s not so much Russell’s fault has it is the three writers who each took a swipe at telling Micky and Dicky’s bigger-than-life story. And with each rewrite you sense nuance filtered out, depriving the film of the focus and continuity required to make a good movie great.
Still, look for “The Fighter” to be a major player at the Oscars, with Adams, Leo and Bale shoo-ins, along with cinematographer, Hoyte Van Hoytema (“Let the Right One In”), who never fails to capture Lowell and its impoverished neighborhoods with a you-are-there clarity.
That level of talent underscores how intently Russell sought to score a knockout. But his inability to sufficiently exploit the chaotic lives of these fascinating characters ruefully results in something nearer a split decision.
THE FIGHTER (R for language, drug use and violence.) Cast includes Mark Wahlberg, Christian Bale, Amy Adams, Melissa Leo and Jack McGee. Directed by David O. Russell. At Boston Common, Tremont Street, Boston. 3 stars out of 4.
Dead Awake – movie review
Dec 5th
Dead Awake – movie review Movies, Review | Emmaleigh R. Hall | December 4, 2010 at 10:11 pm
Imagine if The Sixth Sense were a love story, but take away all the thrills and stylistic choices that made it a good film, then make it unnecessarily confusing. The result would be Dead Awake.
Dead Awake was unnecessarily grainy. It didn’t add anything and made the whole thing feel like watching a really old VHS. The story also made no sense. Elements weren’t properly explained, and when some things were explained, it didn’t have much pay off. The story was told with bits and pieces out of place for no rhyme or reason, and there were areas where it was impossible to tell if it was a dream or a memory. At the end, there was an out-of-nowhere emotional outburst that made the movie even more awkward. Plus, there was a reveal that someone in the movie can see dead people – not said with those exact words, but it was pretty lame. It felt more like a straight-to-DVD movie than a theatrical release.
However, there were some interesting effects in the movie. There are various POV shots from the point of view of Charlie, a drug addict who likes going to funerals for therapy. They go in and out of focus, and it’s jarring, and it gives us a glimpse into Charlie’s messed up world. There was one shot where the main character Dylan was walking in a hospital with his friend Decko, and we see the whole thing in the reflected in a fish eye lens being used as a prop, and for some reason, fish eye lenses are just cool.
Dylan is the main character in Dead Awake. He’s supposed to be solving a mystery for the entire film, but there are places where I forget that’s what he’s even doing. At one point, he bets his friend that nobody would come to his funeral and so he fakes being dead. It’s important in that’s how he meets Charlie, but at that point I still couldn’t figure out what the movie was about. He was portrayed by Nick Stahl, who was a very convincing creepy person. However, I never felt convinced that he actually did love his love interest, Natalie, and when he displayed other emotions, they just seemed awkward.
Rose McGowan played Charlie, the drug addict who is convinced that Dylan is her guardian angel. She’s obsessed with death and Bible verses, and she’s convinced that Dylan is dead but he just doesn’t know it. Charlie is an okay character. She knows that she’s not perfect, and she does really want to do right. She’s convinced that Dylan can save her. Rose McGowan gave a fairly decent performance.
Dylan’s love interest, Natalie, was portrayed by Amy Smart. Amy Smart has never let me down, and she gave a very convincing performance. It’s just a shame that it was a convincing performance in a movie that otherwise made no sense. Natalie and Dylan had been a high school couple, but tragedy struck and she ended up with his best friend. The funeral of a former classmate reunites them and reignites the spark. Natalie spends the movie trying to decide if she’s really in love with Dylan’s best friend, who she’s still with, or Dylan himself. Amy Smart pulled it off, because I never for a second questioned anything Natalie was going through.
Overall, Dead Awake was the type of movie that one might watch late night on cable if nothing else is on. It’s pretty bad, but it might be fun to laugh over. However, it’s not really worth the price of the movie ticket because of how confusing and stylistically awkward it is.
Tags: Amy Smart, Dead Awake, Nick Stahl, Rose McGowan
