Category: Film Review

There are expectations with “Europa Report” that are thankfully never
met. From the outside, the picture appears to be another
stranded-in-space saga, inspecting tensions between astronauts while an
unidentified life form creeps menacingly into view. However, director
Sebastian Cordero and screenwriter Philip Gelatt aren’t interested in
chasing cheap genre highs, preferring to play “Europa Report” as science
fact, contributing one of the most realistic depictions of a space
mission the screen has seen in ages. The effort is wonderfully
suspenseful and exhaustively mysterious, but the true grip of tension is
founded in procedural behaviors, gifting the film a striking realism
that makes it superior to the average B-movie.
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“The Canyons” opens with a main title sequence spotlighting abandoned,
decaying movie theaters. Presumably, this is a comment on the dwindling
appeal of the theatrical experience, with “The Canyons” potentially
greeting most of its viewers through Video on Demand services, an
industry distribution system currently being hailed as the savior for
independent cinema. It’s a disturbing showcase of lost cinematic
elegance, but if this picture is meant to represent the future of film,
these theaters are better off in complete ruin. Insufferable and
eternal, “The Canyons” has spent the greater part of its production life
dodging bad press, only to deserve every single journalistic lash.
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“Blackfish” is an incomplete documentary with its heart in the right
place. Outraged by the “facts” that were passed around after the death
of SeaWorld orca trainer Dawn Brancheau in 2010, director Gabriela
Cowperthwaite decided to strike out on her own, surveying the history of
Tilikum, the killer whale responsible for the horrific incident. Her
cinematic summation of animal abuse and destructive business practices
when it comes to the welfare of SeaWorld’s creatures is expectedly
upsetting and often riveting, exploring the insanity of orca
domestication and the devastating price of such tight confinement.
However, as enlightening and passionate as the picture is, Cowperthwaite
fails to summon the type of comprehensive journalism this type of story
deserves.
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In 2011’s “The Smurfs,” we learned that Smurfs are capable of breaking
wind. In “The Smurfs 2,” it’s established that Smurfs have testicles.
I’m not entirely certain why the moviemakers are so consumed with the
bodily functions of these little blue creatures, but the humor remains
fixed at that level for much of the picture. Picking up where the last
endeavor left off, “The Smurfs 2” shows some badly needed progression in
the emotional resonance department, but the rest of the sequel is mired
by an oddly joyless atmosphere of evildoing, while the promise of a
fresh location is abandoned to pursue some of the lamest attempts at
humor viewed in a family film this year.
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While greeted with robust box office, 2009’s “X-Men Origins: Wolverine”
was met with fan apathy, with most complaints stemming from the studio’s
attempt to make a colorful, cartoony mutant nation movie out of a solo
effort (wedging will.i.am into an acting role didn’t exactly help the
cause either), crowding out the central appeal of the picture. With “The
Wolverine,” the boat now rocks in the opposite direction, stripping
away the theme park vibe of the previous film to craft a more pained
take on the clawed superhero’s ongoing tango with mortality, eschewing
big action for furrowed brows and Japanese melodrama. The change in
scenery is attractive, yet “The Wolverine” is missing fire in its belly,
feeling mummified by its intentional downshift into a mood piece.
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“The To Do List” represents a change of perspective for the average sex
comedy, taking a female POV in a genre typically dominated by the drooly
interests of knuckle-dragging males. However, the refreshing view only
lasts so long in Maggie Carey’s feature-length directorial debut,
eventually blocked out by a few needless detours into gross-out comedy
and a wooden lead performance from star Aubrey Plaza. “The To Do List”
is out to shock, but it’s also interested in sympathy, making it one of
the more disappointing pictures of this deflating summer, wasting a
perfectly wonderful supporting cast and knowing attitude on impatient
screenwriting and haphazard editing.
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“The Hunt” tells the harrowing story of an impulsive accusation that
develops into a wildfire of emotions and revulsion. It’s drama that’s
out to rile up audiences with scenes of injustice and judgment, yet the
explosive qualities of the work are skillfully managed by director
Thomas Vinterberg and co-screenwriter screenwriter Tobias Lindholm, who
ignore the temptation to lurch into hysterics, playing the spread of
rumor and disease with striking minimalism, thus encouraging a more
profound reaction to the work. “The Hunt” will have you balling up a
fist and shedding a few tears as the tale unfolds, providing an
exquisitely unpleasant conflict that’s simply riveting to study.
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There is an irresistible sense of joy to the music documentary “A Band
Called Death.” It’s mournful work in many ways, but also carries itself
with an air of triumph as it winds through an extraordinary story of
dormancy and frustration. Similar in scope to the 2008 triumph “Anvil!
The Story of Anvil,” “A Band Called Death” tracks the same emotional
journey of delayed gratification, only here the players are atypical to
the world of punk music, with directors Mark Christopher Covino and Jeff
Howlett using the sheer oddity of the subjects and their strange road
to a record release to fashion an exceptional look at artistic
integrity, musical innovation, and the power of family ties.
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The supercop genre isn’t distinctly American in design, but we certainly
lead the pack when it comes to the stylized activity of police in the
line of duty, questioning perps and blasting holes in baddies. Perhaps
this is why the bluntly titled “Drug War” is so compelling, taking the
clenched-fist fight against crime to China, where matters of public
protection are more reservedly severe. Twisting genre elements into a
fresh pass at dirty business, the latest from acclaimed and prolific
director Johnnie To manages to seize atypical nuances when it comes to
the battle between good and evil, deploying ace tech credits to
mastermind a sleek, scary look at the collateral damage of a seemingly
futile conflict.
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“Crystal Fairy” (actually titled “Crystal Fairy & the Magical Cactus
and 2012” before somebody wised up during the marketing process) is an
odd picture made for a specialized moviegoing mood. It’s rambling and
spaced-out, with an absurdly severe conclusion that mucks with the
strange tonality of the work, yet writer/director/co-star Sebastian
Silva finds a breezy rhythm that’s worth a look. There’s also a question
of star Michael Cera, who finds a place of mild comedy and wickedly
passive-aggressive behavior that suits his limited dramatic range,
making his performance something special in a film that’s not especially
convincing with its quirk and qualities of observation.
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“Fruitvale Station” isn’t interested in presenting cold, hard facts.
Although it opens with actual video footage of Oscar Grant being shot by
a BART officer, the rest of the movie is devoted to a broad
representation of the young man’s life, mixing recreation with outright
fiction. For some, the overwhelming sympathy shown to Grant will provide
an exhaustively emotional experience, helping to mourn a senseless
death. However, “Fruitvale Station” doesn’t do itself any favors by
ignoring the mysterious workings of the incident, and while the picture
is penetratingly performed, it leaves numerous questions behind in
regards to the killing and Grant’s distressed demeanor, rendering the
feature too calculated for comfort.
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It’s interesting to find Warner Brothers attempting to
sequelize/spin-off the film “House Party” 23 years after it opened in
theaters. That there’s still value in the brand name is extraordinary,
especially when the latest installment, “House Party: Tonight’s the
Night,” is aimed directly at young “Step Up” fans that can’t get enough
of the hat-askew, back-flipping stuff. I’m just going to assume that
most viewers taking the time to watch “Tonight’s the Night” have never
even heard of “House Party,” otherwise, they’d be watching the original
“House Party” and not this decidedly unfunny, sophomoric creation that
plays like an R-rated Disney Channel movie.
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Horror films set in space are often a difficult proposition. Horror
films set in space that have no budget to work with have more of a
creative uphill climb. “Stranded” is a lunar adventure that takes place
on a single set, with limited visual variance to help sell the sci-fi
aspects of the story, while the script largely avoids anything that
might require any type of specialized activity outside of actors
stomping around looking frightened. It’s the latest from “Battlefield
Earth” helmer Roger Christian, which should be enough of a review right
there for most readers. Cheap, dull, and starring Christian Slater,
“Stranded” is a generic effort that doesn’t set out to achieve much over
85 tedious minutes of screen time.
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To fully appreciate “Dealin’ with Idiots,” the viewer must have some
working knowledge of its writer/director/star Jeff Garlin. Or perhaps
patience is a more accurate description. The combative comedian who rose
to fame on the HBO program “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” Garlin is an
acquired taste, repeatedly falling back on his skills of improvisation
and observation to help him crack wise, often punctuated with his
squealy, infectious laugh. The howl is sadly missing from Garlin’s
second helming stint (following up his 2006 movie, “I Want Someone to
Eat Cheese With”), but the rest of his loose sense of humor remains in
“Dealin’ with Idiots,” an impulsive character-driven effort that’s good
for a few laughs and some serious confusion.
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“R.I.P.D.” is a constipated picture. It’s easy to see what the
production had in mind when cameras originally rolled, but editorial
tinkering and general tonal indecision has coughed up a painless misfire
— a movie that could’ve been something sharper, sillier, and more
direct with its action sequences. What’s up on the screen is flawed and
noisy, trying to siphon “Men in Black” fuel without the imagination of
Barry Sonnenfeld in play, and while it doesn’t come together, there are a
few inspired moments to pick up the slack, and the presence of Jeff
Bridges has the ability to lighten any mood, gleefully stomping around
the effort like he owns it.
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This second wind in the directorial career of James Wan has been
fascinating to watch. Almost killing his career with dreadful pictures
such as “Death Sentence” and “Dead Silence,” Wan rebounded with the 2011
horror humdinger “Insidious,” which inched the helmer away from gore
and noise, challenging him in the art of the scare. With a sharp visual
sense and welcome patience for the haunted house subgenre, Wan found an
ideal match to his sensibilities, now returning to the deep dark with
“The Conjuring.” Again favoring tension over bedlam, Wan issues a
similar but successful follow-up to “Insidious” (as opposed to
“Insidious: Chapter 2,” also from Wan and due in September), finding
proper beats of fright and family to play in this throwback endeavor.
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The monster movie tradition receives a delightful Irish makeover in
“Grabbers,” a fast and funny horror comedy that finds a fresh angle to
play in a subgenre that’s always in need of a change of pace. Led by
marvelous performances from stars Richard Coyle and Ruth Bradley,
director Jon Wright locates a specific position of insanity to play and
commits in full, making the small-scale adventure feel significant while
securing a healthy number of laughs during the ride. It’s cheeky and
reverential, keeping the creature feature alive with a glass-clinking
tilt, trading Americanized mayhem for Irish wit, a few close encounters,
and plot that actually finds a way to celebrate binge drinking.
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2010’s “RED” was a disappointment. Gifted a premise with serious
action-comedy potential while surfing along an irresistible marketing
hook, the picture didn’t live up to expectations, losing its focus as
murky intrigue and overplotting gradually scooped the fun factor out of
the geriatric mayhem, rendering it strangely inert. “RED 2” is more of
the same mediocrity, though the antics are now emboldened by the
original’s promising box office performance. Out to dish up the same
watery stew of bullets and slapstick, the follow-up doesn’t achieve a
personality of its own as it madly dashes to cover the same terrain as
the earlier effort, only here the noise has been dialed up and co-star
John Malkovich has been instructed to go full ham. This is not progress.
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After scoring an unlikely success with 2011’s “Drive,” director Nicolas
Winding Refn and actor Ryan Gosling delve even deeper into the darkness
of cinema with “Only God Forgives,” an eye-crossingly violent mood piece
on the futility of revenge. Considering the relative mass appeal of
their previous work, “Only God Forgives” is decidedly specialized
filmmaking for adventurous audiences blessed with paint-drying patience.
It’s monumentally rough stuff with a glacial pace, though its surreal
execution grows quite interesting the longer Refn sticks to the unknown
and the absurd, making the effort more performance art in design than
aggressively genre-minded.
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Not that animated films should be held to a standard of realism, but
“Turbo” is quite bizarre, even for a cartoon. It’s a story about a snail
who finds himself soaked in nitrous oxide, endowing him with the
characteristics of a car. He glows and moves with lightning speed, yet
fringe characters don’t really seem shocked when confronted with such a
vision. The snail is also allowed to compete in the Indianapolis 500
with other cars, and nobody bats an eye. However, the fantasy draws a
line at communication, finding humans unable to hear the snails speak.
It’s a weird movie and thankfully one that’s filled with enough positive
energy and slick visuals to distract from its nonsense. Entertaining
and agreeably performed, “Turbo” is a pleasant diversion for younger
audiences. A little nutty, but friendly and colorful.
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