The hip hop group A Tribe Called Quest has been lauded for decades now, blessed with encouraging record sales and a consistent vibration of love emanating from the rap community. However, they’ve rarely been explored in full, leaving actor Michael Rapaport to step behind the camera and investigate the inner workings of this musical union with his thumpy, riveting documentary, “Beats, Rhymes & Life: The Travels of a Tribe Called Quest.”
Brevity is a good friend to the mediocre comedy “30 Minutes or Less.” Running roughly 75 minutes long, the film is tidily arranged by director Rueben Fleischer, who has enough sense to hit his slapstick bullet points and bail. I just wish he had better material, at least something substantial that would prevent the picture from becoming yet another R-rated comedy cursed with crummy improvisation-addicted actors and their distracting potty mouths.
Full disclosure: I’ve never seen a single episode of the Fox television smash “Glee.” I know frighteningly little about the series; however, after viewing “Glee: The 3D Concert Movie,” I’m now extremely curious about the program. At the very least, I’d like to see how the show continues on now that Charlie Sheen has been fired.
I want a varied landscape of cinema as much as the next person, but did the world truly need a movie based on the depravity of Uday Hussein, son of Saddam? It’s difficult to ascertain exactly why the story behind “The Devil’s Double” required a feature film treatment, a quibble inflated to flat-out disgust by the end of the picture. Unsophisticated and unnecessarily ugly, the movie seems to favor Uday’s sadism instead of condemning it, making its ultimate purpose too fogged for comfort.
John Candy goes “Delirious” and we all suffer, while Jean-Claude Van Damme tries acting for a change in “Double Impact.”
If “The Tree of Life” is a full-course dinner of philosophy and emotional reflection, the sci-fi snoozer “Another Earth” is a particularly chewy intellectual amuse-bouche. A plodding melodrama concerning the effects of loss and the potential for soulful rebirth, “Another Earth” doesn’t pursue its provocative ideas with any sort of narrative momentum. Instead, it’s all dreary navel-gazing and cinematographic posturing hoping to wade into a profound philosophical bath, using the mysteries of the universe as a way to hypnotize an audience more likely to be annoyed by this story than entranced.
After five motion pictures, two television series, and a 2001 Tim Burton remake, it seems a prequel is the only logical place to go in the exhausted “Planet of the Apes” saga. The origin tale of apes and their early stages of domination is surprisingly fertile ground for the producers, who loosely rework 1972’s “Conquest of the Planet of the Apes” into “Rise of the Planet of the Apes,” a frequently thrilling, emotionally resonate reboot that takes advantage of today’s vibrant motion capture technology to help articulate the complexity burning within these damn dirty apes.
Thanks to various works from Judd Apatow and the smash success of “The Hangover,” the summer of 2011 has played host to a resurgence of hard R-rated comedies, each sharing the same improvisational DNA while declining a cheery spirit of punchline imagination, more content to primitively shock than organize surprises. While the bar was set low by the intolerable June belch, “Bad Teacher,” the body-swap extravaganza “The Change-Up” stumbles into August to claim its prize as the worst feature of the new batch.
A remake of a 1980 Troma exploitation film, “Mother’s Day” at least makes an attempt to stand on its own two feet. Instead of direct imitation, director Darren Lynn Bousman endeavors to rework the central idea of maternal domination, fleshing out the story to fit a broader range of characters and a different style of violence. It’s an interesting failure, but the picture enjoys several grisly highlights, indulging itself to a point of exhaustion.
It’s difficult to ascertain exactly what story director James Marsh is attempting to tell with his latest documentary, “Project Nim.” Part bio-pic, part animal cruelty call to arms, and part scientific study, the feature is an engaging, horrifying look at the life and times of a special chimpanzee, but doesn’t quite bundle the reveals and the revulsion in a tight cinematic package.
Blessed with a promising concept for a dark comedy, “Meet Monica Velour” would rather tug at heartstrings or script repetitive behavior from derivative characters. It’s a wasteful effort, yet a few highlights manage to distract, namely Kim Cattrall in a bravely unglamorous performance, putting in an impressive effort to embody a once omnipresent porn queen facing the unrelenting trials of life after youth.
I suppose the classic image of a grindhouse film is something along the lines of a bug-eyed man splattered with blood holding a knife over a half-naked woman. It’s an honest summation of the cinematic culture, but there’s an entire history here worth an examination. Elijah Drenner’s “American Grindhouse” traces the history, excesses, and glory of unsavory cinema, providing a magnificent education in the process, communicating the nuances and traditions of a brand often disregarded as forgettable schlock.
I’d like to think that when Melissa Leo won the Academy Award this year for her supporting work in “The Fighter,” she was thinking, “Gee, the only thing that could make 2011 sweeter would be the hasty DVD release of a 1984 exploitation film I did for Roger Corman when I was brand new to the business.” Melissa Leo, I have wonderful news for you.
“Hot Shots!” makes silly soar, Michael J. Fox takes a rural road with “Doc Hollywood,” and nobody really wants to “Return to the Blue Lagoon.”
The 1987 comedy “Overboard” is an incredible study of star power, displaying how a few seasoned professionals can take a limp script and turn it into something unremarkable, yet completely palatable. Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn are truly the only reasons to keep watching this otherwise flaccid comedy, which feels static when it should zing and oppressive when it should soar.
“Paul” should be a simple wacky sci-fi comedy filled with pot humor, unrelenting profanity, gay panic, and dry Brit humor. Instead, the film is primarily constructed as a valentine to the fantasy genre, showing more interest dreaming up inside movie references than spewing one-liners. “Paul” is pure geek bait, an oasis of unadulterated affection for all things sci-fi. The movie bleeds green. Thankfully, in the care of screenwriters/stars Nick Frost and Simon Pegg, the picture casts an amusing intergalactic spell, borrowing a Spielbergian concept and filling it with all sorts of enjoyable absurdity and R-rated mischief.
With Tyler Perry spending his precious time driving his most popular character into the ground to sustain a hold on African-American entertainment dollars, burgeoning movie mogul T.D. Jakes (“Not Easily Broken”) has selected a softer approach for entertainment dominance, taking on the trials of family and marriage with the charming feature, “Jumping the Broom.”
“Snow Flower and the Secret Fan” features a sensitive story of bittersweet separation, reportedly altered quite a bit from author Lisa See’s original 2005 novel. A tale of patchy sisterhood and the circular patterns of betrayals and mistakes, director Wayne Wang has his hands full with melodrama and historical reflection, exploring China’s foot-binding past while returning to the intricacies of Asian culture, which served him well in the 1993 hit, “The Joy Luck Club.” Wang’s also made perhaps the most flavorless, outright boring picture of 2011, breaking down the plot into tiny, inert pieces of meaninglessness.
Director Jon Favreau has quite a playground with “Cowboys & Aliens,” permitting the filmmaker a big-budget opportunity to stage classic western encounters while banging away with large-scale sci-fi elements. Although it lacks an extraordinary pace that would normally accompany the collision of two disparate genres, the picture is a comfortably entertaining slice of summer escapism, blasting away with a blissful discharge of six-guns and lasers.
BRIAN ORNDORF 