Category: Film Review

Perhaps realizing they didn’t have the budget to indulge their western
fantasies in full, filmmakers (and identical twins) Logan and Noah
Miller take a route of peculiarity with “Sweet Vengeance,” making
oddity, not expanse, the focus of the movie. The Millers make muscular
choices in tone and humor here, shaping a curious picture that’s skilled
at depicting sudden acts of violence, burning scenes of intimidation,
and the emptiness of the southwest, creating an impressive but
low-wattage effort that’s agreeably primitive in its design of good vs.
evil — though shadings of such moral assignment are always a little
messy, keeping the material somewhere in the vicinity of sophistication
as it delivers captivating six-gun basics. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

If I didn’t know better, I might’ve presumed that “Hammer of the Gods”
was created by a team of 9th graders out to entertain themselves after
learning a little about the history of the Vikings. Actually, that movie
would likely be more fun and coherent than what’s found its way
onscreen. Pointlessly graphic and absolutely ridiculous, “Hammer of the
Gods” is a poorly attended LARP event crossed with basic cable fantasy
filmmaking standards. It certainly endeavors to create a tempest of
heaving testosterone with its population of bearded, shirtless men
swinging rusty swords while growling, but the effort as a whole is
excruciatingly unremarkable, with dreary tech credits and a cast taking
performance cues from the local Renaissance Fair. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

It’s tricky to make much sense out of “Compulsion,” which exists in its
own world of fantasy and fixation. It’s a mixture of tones and manic
behavior that often comes across confused, yet the film’s dedication to a
screaming color palette and food fetishes is most enticing, making it a
feast for the eyes and the stomach, yet coldly detached everywhere
else. However, those with an interest in the extremes of obsessive
cinema might get a kick or two out of what director Egidio Coccimiglio
serves up here, studying the emphasis on domestic glamour and the
decadence of exotic food preparation.
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Focusing on acts of intimidation and phone-based negotiation, and the
Danish film “A Hijacking” offers more cinematic suspense than ten visual
effect-laden blockbusters. Spare and serious, the picture is an
outstanding effort exploring the rituals and anguish of life in
captivity, communicated through brilliant performances of pure interior
might and storytelling control that expertly draws out repetition as a
form of tension. Writer/director Tobias Lindholm puts forth a masterful
study of patience and terror, and while it asks the viewer to endure
painful surges in hope and its inevitable depressive fallout, the reward
is an opportunity to view a genuine, riveting human event onscreen.
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There’s no reason why “Unfinished Song” (titled “Song for Marion”
elsewhere) should work. It’s schmaltz with more than few derivative
turns of plot, and it borders on being too corny for comfort. This is
where casting is the utmost importance, with stars Terence Stamp,
Vanessa Redgrave, and Gemma Arterton making the most of an impossible
situation, infusing heart and soul into an otherwise artificial
experience. Simplistic, but blessedly so, “Unfinished Song” is only out
to warm up its audience, inducing tears and smiles as three actors keep
the production palatable despite its serious lean toward a manipulative
disaster.
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They are the spirit, the fire, and the wings of vocal performance. They
are the backup singers, and the documentary “20 Feet from Stardom” is
determined to make sure these unheralded talents finally get their due.
Director Morgan Neville makes a convincing argument for glory, as mere
moments with these women and their fierce personalities and golden
throats induce chills, stepping into the presence of remarkable talent
that’s routinely discounted by a fickle industry and even by the
subjects themselves. Jubilant, informative, and teeming with iconic
music, “20 Feet from Stardom” is a riveting sit, blasting a spotlight on
singers worthy of the intense heat.
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Over the course of its 80 year history, “The Lone Ranger” has seen
numerous incarnations spread across the realms of television, radio, and
cinema. He’s an evergreen character, a powerful figure of justice and
honor, so it makes sense that producer Jerry Bruckheimer would labor to
turn the masked man into a blockbuster franchise for contemporary
audiences, as it’s been over 30 years since the last attempt to build a
big screen franchise with these ingredients. However, this is no simple
western; “The Lone Ranger” is monster-budget entertainment, complete
with an overly elaborate plot, visual effects galore, and a pained sense
of humor that only emerges from a production with too much to lose,
fearful of coloring outside the lines. It’s noisy, intentionally ugly,
and excruciatingly long (clocking in at 150 minutes). Serious hi-ho is
missing from this leaden endeavor.
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That 2010’s “Despicable Me” turned out to be an enormous hit is a bit of
a surprise. Perfectly pleasant but also unremarkable, the feature
scratched a certain audience itch at the time, striking a distinct
cartoon blow while introducing the world to the hyperactive comedy
antics of the minions — those miniature yellow slapstick machines that
eventually made Universal Pictures a mint in merchandise sales. Well,
the minions are back, along with Gru and his adoptive children, with
“Despicable Me 2” perfectly content to replicate humor and spectacle for
its adoring audience. However, with the lead character now playing for
the good guys, certain changes have been made to the freshly-minted
franchise, a few ideas that keep this sequel entertaining but never
remarkable.
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Jason Statham will never have acting range in a manner that brings him
respectability in the industry, but he has tremendous presence, utilized
to varying degree in action extravaganzas that play up his cool,
knuckle-cracking demeanor. While hardly challenging the star,
“Redemption” does offer Statham something a little different to play,
offered a chance to take possession of a human being for a change, not
just a growly enforcer. The picture provides the traditional allotment
of intimidation and cracked bones, yet “Redemption” has a little more on
its mind than a simple serving of beatings. Visually striking and
marked by unexpected characterizations, the movie isn’t perfect, but
it’s unusual, acting as a career multivitamin for Statham.
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After spending a considerable amount of time floundering with his
directorial career, Paul Feig hit pay dirt with 2011’s “Bridesmaids,” a
rude, crude, profoundly improvised comedy centered on female characters.
It makes sense to find Feig repeating the formula for “The Heat,”
though the effort isn’t a twist on matrimonial madness movies, but buddy
cop cinema, pairing Melissa McCarthy and Sandra Bullock as the titular
force of justice, but only giving them a few pages of story to work
with. The rest of the experience is a riffing hailstorm where everyone
dashes for a punchline, disrupted by scenes of graphic violence to break
up the monotony. It’s an aggressive picture in many ways, but it never
comes together as a cohesive lampoon, meandering around chasing impulses
instead of solidifying itself as a determined action comedy.
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We already suffered through one of these “‘Die Hard’ in The White House”
movies with last March’s “Olympus Has Fallen,” a mean-spirited, moronic
actioner that set the bar on the floor for the newly christened
subgenre. “White House Down” almost matches the competition in terms of
unpleasantness and abysmal filmmaking, once again treating the premise
as an open invitation to make the audience feel icky for watching
something that should be high-flying, guns-blazing carnival ride. A
monster budget helps the new picture in the long run, but boiled down to
the essentials of competent screenwriting, thoughtful direction, and
thespian creativity, and “White House Down” mirrors “Olympus Has Fallen”
to a disturbing degree.
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“Byzantium” marks the return of director Neil Jordan to the realm of
vampire stories, have previously helmed one of the more famous entries
in the subgenre, 1994’s “Interview with a Vampire.” It’s an interesting
homecoming lacking star power and a blockbuster budget, yet there’s
atmosphere to spare in this curious mediation on manipulation and
imprisonment, with a healthy dose of poisonous sex appeal to complete
the elaborate arc of seduction. It’s a strange film, often in a manner
that encourages interest in the story, but Jordan eventually loses his
concentration in the third act, reducing the tension of “Byzantium” by
encouraging overkill.
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We know Neil LaBute as a playwright and filmmaker who has a particular
interest in the erosion of the human soul. He’s a man fascinated with
emotional violence exchanged between the sexes, mining this
concentration in work such as “The Shape of Things,” “In the Company of
Men,” and “Your Friends & Neighbors.” In recent years, he’s
experimented with genre entertainment to build a Hollywood career
(including “Lakeview Terrace” and the misbegotten “Wicker Man” remake),
but his heart remains with the pleasures of extreme discomfort. “Some
Girl(s)” is an adaptation of LaBute’s 2005 play and is loaded with dark
thoughts and agitation, making an excellent transition to the big screen
courtesy of director Daisy von Scherler Mayer, who confidently retains
LaBute’s acid splash.
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I doubt few people think about disco these days. I mean really think
about, in terms of historical impact and social upheaval, not just loose
beats and glitter. Director Jamie Kastner has certainly wrestled with
the subject, delivering a bizarre documentary in “The Secret Disco
Revolution,” which employs a mockumentary tilt to attack the myriad of
stories connected to the rise and fall of what seemed to be a simple
musical fad. Although blessed with a sense of humor, the picture is
actually quite valuable as a document of the era, interviewing those who
stood (and boogied) on the front line, amassing an eye-opening tale of
greed, lust, and burgeoning confidence.
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I suppose “Hannah Arendt” could be classified as a bio-pic, covering a
few critical junctures in the life of the famous writer, though there’s
not enough here to convey a life lived in pursuit of thought. It’s a
stable, distanced picture from director Margarethe von Trotta, who
endeavors to bring to the screen a portrayal of intelligence disputed,
successfully communicating the frustrations and defiance of Arendt,
reflecting a thirst for knowledge and spotlighting her breathtaking
confidence for a modern audience perhaps unused to such remarkable
character. It’s a solid feature but not always the most dramatic,
content to experience moments in time with the subject instead of
wrapping her passions around the screen in an inviting manner.
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There is no rhyme, reason, or basic filmmaking competency to “Apartment
1303.” A ghost story that doesn’t bother with the story part of
equation, the movie is relentlessly bogged down by idiocy and clumsy
acting, resembling hundreds of similar genre offerings where the scares
claim a higher priority than anything else, and even those are utterly
worthless. Teeming with inconsistencies and ineptitude, “Apartment 1303”
ends up a complete waste of time, not even amusing as bottom shelf
schlock that welcomes the respite of mockery.
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Because we all love a good disaster story, much has been made recently
about the production challenges that temporarily paralyzed the shooting
of “World War Z.” It ran overbudget, suffered through numerous rewrites,
and found its third act completely rethought by a second creative team
when the original work failed to land the proper punch. The trouble with
such compulsive rubbernecking is that “World War Z,” despite some major
malfunctions, is no train wreck. In fact, it’s a rather energized
horror picture, skillfully using the fantasy concept of a furious zombie
outbreak to construct a representation of global pandemic hysteria,
with star Brad Pitt wisely tucking in his cape to play a human being
facing doomsday, refusing the superhero path.
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“Monsters University” is a prequel I’m positive most audiences will be
celebrating. It’s Pixar on autopilot, returning to the playground of one
of their biggest, most enduring hits, coasting on good faith as the
story dials back about a decade to detail how scare professionals Mike
Wazowski and Sulley first met (I guess one must simply ignore a line in
2001’s “Monsters, Inc.” that established the pair as elementary school
chums). Loaded with gags and entertaining characterizations, “Monsters
University” is a breezy time with old friends, smartly stepping away
from the scare floor to take the monster carnival to college, opening a
whole new world of possibilities for this colorful universe.
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“The Bling Ring” is not a film where the audience is meant to understand
the characters, to peek behind the behavioral curtain to comprehend
corrupt impulses. It’s an atmospheric picture, wallowing in indifference
and cheap thrills to showcase the mummification of a generation raised
on celebrity culture, caffeine, and permissive parenting. “The Bling
Ring” doesn’t possess a death grip of judgment I’m sure most would like
from this depiction of millennial lunacy, yet writer/director Sofia
Coppola makes a more convincing argument for condemnation through
observation, watching dim children willingly engage in illegal
activities, incapable of showing remorse. That’s chilling enough.
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In 1993, Kenneth Branagh attempted a lush, cinematic take on William
Shakespeare’s famous play, “Much Ado About Nothing.” Attempting to
counterpunch contextual impenetrability, Branagh turned the stage
production into a luscious screen event, boasting stunning Italian
countryside locations, heavenly golden bodies, and an all-star cast bent
on challenging themselves with a rare outing of sophistication. It was a
beautiful film, and perhaps bold enough to discourage beloved
writer/director Joss Whedon from matching its sense of euphoria. His
“Much Ado About Nothing” elects the opposite approach, refusing
production polish, varied locations, and even color. It’s a
stripped-down take on the Bard, ready-made for Whedon acolytes —
certainly interesting, but once you go Branagh, it’s difficult to go
back.
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