It’s another peek into the strain of marriage with the drama “Every Day,” though this particular snapshot of marital friction is blessed with a gifted cast able to pull the interior ache out of a script that eventually grows to fail them completely. A scattered picture, the viewing experience is saved by a few tender scenes of resignation and the occasional blip of honest communication.
The box art for “My Girlfriend’s Back” promises a richly comedic feature film, though there aren’t any actual attempts to summon laughter during the movie. However, erroneous marketing is the least of this picture’s problems, with the cast and crew slumbering through a derivative, unfocused, unrealistic melodrama, featuring DNA pulled from “Barbershop” and Tyler Perry.
Presumably made to please Australian kiddies during matinee hours, “BMX Bandits” has grown to become a considerable cult hit in a few film geek circles, made famous for its attention to hot wheels and for employing Nicole Kidman at her fuzziest, here in her very first feature film role. While it’s best approached as an irresistible time capsule, the picture remains a consistently engaging adventure film, with colorful bikes and a bright cast eager to maintain a high-flying spirit of citywide Sydney pursuit.
During its nearly 70 years of existence, “Bambi” has grown from a box office disappointment to one of the defining treasures of the Walt Disney Animated Studios. A feature of immense beauty and appealing cartoon behavior, the 1942 picture feels just as alive and relevant all these decades later, sustaining as a richly imagined saga of life and death, discovery, and instinct, communicated by true masters of the animation craft, turning the yearlong experience of a maturing deer into mesmeric cinema.
“Helena from the Wedding” is a film festival wet dream come to life. Shot on HD, filled with a cast of exploratory actors salivating over themes of temptation, and set inside a secluded cabin during a snowy winter, the picture has all the ingredients necessary to delight the average art-house theater. The film almost reaches a resonate plateau, observing the frosty nuances of relationships with a game cast and an intriguing plot. The picture ultimately doesn’t end up anywhere, but moments are accounted for nicely, creating a warm bath of razors for those who prefer their onscreen relationships to be as hesitant as possible.
Star Michael Matthias wants to be Vin Diesel in the worst way. With his pumped-up exterior, shaved head, and unconvincing way with the English language, Matthias is a J.V. screen brute looking for his chance at big time stardom. “The Bleeding” (shot in 2008) won’t turn the hulk into a major action star. In fact, it might kill his leading man career altogether. A slapdash mess of genres with zero storytelling capability, “The Bleeding” looks to coast on red-hot vampire trends. Instead, the film bites, and not in a satisfyingly monstrous manner.
2003’s “S.W.A.T.” was a wildly entertaining noisemaker. An update of the 1975-76 television series, the original film combined bold Hollywood theatrics and frosty police procedure comfortably, led by a generous portion of star power and muscular direction from Clark Johnson. Eight years later, we have “S.W.A.T: Firefight,” a DTV sequel that does away with procedure, star power, and secure direction. While amusing in the moment, with a merry junk food cinema rhythm, the low-budget follow-up isn’t nearly as brawny as the original feature, electing video game stylistics and movie-of-the-week plotting to dream up a new “S.W.A.T.” adventure.
“See You in September” is yet another roll around the muck of New York City neuroses, fiddling where many films have fiddled before. Missing a performance miracle or outstandingly scripted concern, the picture instead wilts instantly, offering viewers a snapshot of slapstick anxiety that’s neither merry nor original. It’s all just utterly forgettable.
I suppose Hilary Duff isn’t the adolescent, semi-innocent Disney starlet she once was, though I find it completely bizarre that it took an unremarkable ABC Family production to inform me that the actress is ready to tackle adult roles that deal with…you know…sex. “Beauty & the Briefcase” is Duff’s trampoline bounce toward the next phase of her career: playing neurotic, overprivileged twentysomething characters in vapid basic cable movies for networks that label themselves as family friendly, yet offer programming that celebrates dubious behavior for impressionable young eyes.
“Carnival Magic” is a forgotten family feature released in 1983 that was filmed in 1981 but looks like it was shot in 1972. It features a talking chimp, telepathic powers, sideshow melodrama, and a cast of buxom women who’ve never heard of a bra before. Did I mention the talking chimp? The picture is a Z-grade curio that’s slowly garnered a cult following over the years, confronting schlock hunters with completely sincere nonsense. I’m not suggesting “Carnival Magic” is a good film, but I will admit to delighting in its peculiar behavior and bootleg turns of plot. In an age where high camp is daily business, it’s amusing to find a 28-year-old film about a wisecracking ape that’s utterly convinced of its emotional resonance.
It would be easy to blame the ineptitude of “Game of Death” on its most disinterested star, Wesley Snipes. The latest entry in his string of career-killing DTV actioners, Snipes is intensely stationary here, stiffly going through the neck-snapping motions while paying moderate attention to the development of his character. Truthfully, Snipes is a bore, but director Giorgio Serafini is the man responsible for the film’s transition from a mindless bruiser to an unsightly wreck.
Writer/director Julian Kemp faces an uphill battle with “My Last Five Girlfriends.” In this day and age of the ubiquitous romantic comedy, there’s little originality to be found, leaving the average filmmaker scrambling for cliché just to maintain basic likability. Curiously, “Girlfriends” isn’t looking to be warmly received, instead lurching for a breakneck pace of sly whimsy, investigating the fragments of a broken heart through elaborate fantasy, with enough visual effect shots to rival a “Transformers” picture. And what does the screen blizzard amount to? An intolerable ride of self-importance and easily avoidable emotional trauma.
“You Again” is insufferable. It’s a glorified sitcom burning through the hoariest of comedic circumstances with a cast not known for their jester gifts. Because when you think of laughs, you think of Odette Yustman. It’s almost shocking to witness how derivative the feature is, often begging on bloodied knees for a laugh, while displaying a cringingly broad sense of humor that would make Carol Burnett wince. This picture is a baffling, excruciating, cancerous lump. A complete waste of time for everyone involved.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse than 2008’s loathsome “Beverly Hills Chihuahua,” “Beverly Hills Chihuahua 2” comes around to completely spoil my low expectations. Simple, genuinely funny (in spurts), and crammed with canine tomfoolery, this DTV offering is an affable surprise, sure to give family audiences a charming ride. Without even breaking a sweat, this sequel easily surpasses the original’s distasteful screenwriting and lethargic sense of star power.
While I wasn’t tickled by the tepid teen comedy stylings of 2004’s “Mean Girls,” I do respect the fact that the film was an influential hit while providing writer Tina Fey with a deserved shot at Hollywood stardom. “Mean Girls 2” isn’t a sequel, but a remake of the original picture, once again pitting the unpopular against the popular in an eternal struggle for high school hallway supremacy. Whatever problems I had with the 2004 feature aren’t even an issue here, as the new film offers a decidedly more pedestrian take on the clique warfare concept, trading Fey’s sly ambition for cruel DTV routine.
While the premise wiggles with promise of sinful delights, one has to be reminded while watching “The Client List” that this is a Lifetime Movie, therefore more interested in the mommy blues than the beast with two backs. A story of hooking, drug abuse, and harsh Texas judgment, the film elects for a soft route of melodrama, using pleasant actors to communicate desperation, refusing salacious details to play right to the target demographic of sympathetic mothers and wives.
It’s a little unsettling to approach a third entry in the unexpected “Open Season” franchise and find that, once again, most of the primary voices have been recast. It seems the title can’t keep a good star around. To combat this predicament, the producers have decided to do away with stunt casting all together. The result is a fresher, funnier sequel that executes slapstick comedy with more creative freedom, using its tiny budget and DTV status to find its own personal path of irreverence with these goofy forest creatures.
“Secretariat” has a challenging journey ahead of it, released relatively soon after the 2003 racehorse picture, “Seabiscuit.” Without much in the way of controversial elements or a suspenseful conclusion, “Secretariat” feels like a nonstarter, though it’s handsomely mounted by director Randall Wallace. It’s simply a slice of cinematic apple pie, handed a firm inspirational Disney scrubbing and sent out void of a personality. I can’t fault a film for comfort food aspirations, but this tale of horseracing’s greatest champion doesn’t breathe enough fire to make a lasting impression.
When I think of “Dances with Wolves,” my mind reels back to December of 1990, a time where I first encountered word of the picture’s release from a local pennysaver film critic (for you Minneapolis movie folk, the man was Barry ZeVan). Already entrenched in moviegoing habits, I was well aware of Kevin Costner and his upcoming western, hypnotized by the film’s unusual teaser marketing campaign. However, on this frigid weekend morning, sitting down at a local strip mall with a soda, I began to grasp the film in more than just simple movie attendance terms, reading about the picture’s awe-inspiring scope and thematic novelty. It’s a sweet memory of growing anticipation, especially for an underdog film nobody was expecting much from. It was perhaps the last time “Dances with Wolves” enjoyed the element of surprise.
World-famous rapper, relentless huckster, video game brand name, actor of no discernable skill, and now motion picture screenwriter? Yes, Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson tries his hand at cinema mythmaking with the urban crime saga, “Gun.” Regurgitating the “Scarface” formula to such a degree that Brian De Palma should consider hiring some lawyers, Jackson looks to shape a new iconic crook for the masses, rolling moldy streetwise clichés and John Larroquette (of course) up into a limp thriller from the director of “Soul Plane.”
BRIAN ORNDORF 