Category: Film Review

Now here’s a gem from Australia that took its time reaching American multiplexes. “The Loved Ones” was unleashed in its native land all the way back in 2010, only now finding a limited release to gradually ease audiences into this dark story of torture and adolescent urges. While the picture is vicious, it’s also sharply crafted, superbly performed, and legitimately suspenseful, making it one of the few highlights in a genre not known for filmmaking effort. It’s not a movie for every taste, but those with a fondness for cinematic evildoing might find themselves richly entertained by this macabre feature, which somehow manages the finer points of grief and festering wounds with exceptional directorial skill.

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A few months ago, there was “Mirror Mirror,” a fantasy confection that endeavored to turn the “Snow White” fable into a highly stylized circus act with lousy punchlines. While bearable, it wasn’t remarkable. Curiously, movie two in this cinematic fairy tale war, “Snow White and the Huntsman,” takes the opposite storytelling approach, treating the material like it’s dragging a corpse across a fantasyland of doom. The rival “White” is an intentionally joyless creation, investing in a grim atmosphere of murder, sexual perversity, and medieval combat. However, the dwarfs remain, keeping the uneventful effort gasping for gulps of oxygen while it’s being smothered in anger. The producers are obviously trying to butch up an age-old saga of purity and romance, yet by elongating the plot, the filmmakers have inadvertently revealed the source material’s limitations.

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“Hysteria” is about the invention of the vibrator. Now that’s an invitation for either a cheeky exploration of sex toy history or a brave offering a drama, willing to plunge into a most extraordinary area of expertise to bring knowledge to the masses. Unfortunately, “Hysteria” doesn’t head in any extreme direction, with the movie attempting to shape itself into a romantic comedy of sorts, ruining the potential fun. Lively moments and some sly wit aside, the feature has a nasty habit of getting in its own way, halting the flow of astonishing medical reality and mischievous discoveries to play everything conventional, which is perhaps the least effective approach for a picture about the creation of the vibrator to take.

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We’re in the midst of a trend in horror movies, with producers scrambling to cash in on “Paranormal Activity” fever, furthering the use of the “found footage” technique to generate realism while adhering to pure formula. “Apartment 143” is a rather unabashed rip-off of “Activity,” but a film that works to unearth its own identity as a psychological study of supernatural chaos, rather than simply erecting another haunted house viewing experience. The concept has potential, but the picture is lackluster and, at times, completely absurd. Trying to overthink a ghost story, “Apartment 143” goes from appealing to ridiculous in a hurry, saved slightly by a handful of good frights.

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Branding itself as “based on a true story,” “For Greater Glory” appears more interested in offering every cheap cinematic trick in the book. An overwrought, overlong recreation of the Cristero War, the movie eschews essential details of time and location to fetishize violence as a way to celebrate faith. Not that Catholicism has ever shied away from elaborate acts of pain and suffering, yet “For Greater Glory” doesn’t have the benefit of good taste, or filmmaking clarity for that matter, laboring over death and devastation as a way to keep viewers glued to their seats. Treating the conflict with the complexity it deserves is a foreign concept to this production, which takes its cues from the Mel Gibson School of Screen Martyrdom, making sure this education on Mexican history carries significant ugliness.

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Some blockbusters are planned, backed by expensive advertising campaigns and carefully orchestrated waves of buzz. Other efforts come out of nowhere to slay box office competition, riding a positive word-of-mouth high to pop culture glory. “The Intouchables” is as unassuming a picture as they come, yet its towering European success is nothing short of astonishing, with the feature smashing attendance records, generating a must-see magnetism usually reserved for movies about invading aliens, superheroes, and robots that turn into cars. And to think, all this hullabaloo over a simple tale about two men forming a friendship while engaged in a unique caretaker arrangement. Perhaps there’s still a filmgoing appetite for human stories after all.

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For a film that has such a bustle of visual activity, “Bel Ami” ends up a rather dull feature. It’s difficult to pinpoint exactly why the effort gradually deflates, as there’s a wealth of exemplary technical credits, a story of utter moral corruption, and a few manageable performances. Nevertheless, “Bel Ami” flatlines, abandoning the potential ruthlessness of the plot to wander through a series of vacant reactions to tepid revelations. At the very least, the picture gives star Robert Pattinson something with a little more snap to play, furthering his career as he begins to step away from the comfort of the “Twilight” movies and its most forgiving fanbase.

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I’m thinking Wes Craven should go ahead and contact his lawyer.

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In one of those realizations that makes your brain hurt, “Men in Black II” came out a decade ago and was a genuinely awful movie. Bloated, poorly cast, and lacking the essential fun factor that made the original 1997 picture such a treat, the sequel stunk up the room, killing interest in a third installment. It took the producers a significant amount of time to slap together a second sequel (keep in mind the public has greeted six “Harry Potter” films since 2002), but “Men in Black 3” (roman numerals are so noughties) is finally a reality, and it’s a marked improvement over the last Agent K and Agent J adventure. Although the simplicity and carefree attitude from “Men in Black” is missing, the third installment of this graying franchise finds some much needed inspiration in the realm of time travel. How it actually copes with such a laborious screenwriting turn is another story.

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The career of director David Mackenzie has been an unpredictable journey with pronounced highs and miserable lows, but I must admit the man is rarely boring. Hitting solid doubles and triples with features such as “Mister Foe,” “Young Adam,” and “Perfect Sense,” Mackenzie also struck out with a wretched Aston Kutcher drama, “Spread.” His latest, “Tonight You’re Mine” (titled “You Instead” overseas) is an experimental piece about love and connection in the midst of celebratory chaos, and it’s certainly one of his lesser efforts. Improvisational and cold to the touch, the picture is a noble failure, capturing the musty rush of a music festival and all of its madness, with a dreary love story awkwardly wedged into the film, souring the atmosphere.

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“The Tortured” enjoys an enticingly visceral premise, working a heavy exploitation mood to generate cheers and jeers from its audience. Sadly, the promise is fleeting, as the film is produced by the team that gifted the world the “Saw” movies, which is exactly the direction “The Tortured” takes as it burns through vicious acts of murder and comeuppance. It’s an angry picture, but that dependable sense of rage doesn’t carry through to the end. Instead, the effort dissolves into a strange genre predictability, almost afraid to take the story exactly where it should rightfully lead.

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There’s actually nothing to expect from “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” as most audiences have already seen this material processed countless times on television and film, perhaps even radio for a few viewers out there. Like a bad sitcom without fresh idea to share, the picture is a miserable, formulaic descent into the vast wonderland of neuroses surrounding oncoming parenthood, with most variations of baby acquisition and delivery covered to communicate the diverse experiences of pregnancy and adoption. The large ensemble is here to distract from the flaccid scripting, with director Kirk Jones putting a lot of faith in star power to motor through a movie that’s intending to be the definitive word on family life. Too bad it’s all been covered a hundred times before.

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Who really needs drugs when there are screen offerings like “Beyond the Black Rainbow” around? A psychedelic voyage into center of the mind, this sci-fi/horror hybrid is a visual humdinger, immersing the viewer in a liquid landscape of hallucinations and hellish visitations. It’s a movie that’s nearly impossible to disregard, but it’s also one of the slowest pictures I’ve come into contact with so far this year. “Beyond the Black Rainbow” demands submission, otherwise the nightmarish funhouse experience is going to feel like a long Sunday afternoon watching DVRed C-SPAN reruns on half-speed. It’s a motion picture reserved for the most adventurous audiences around, matinee mavericks willing to fling themselves into an abyss of madness, guided by a filmmaker who’s seen more than his fair share of Laser Floyd.

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“Bernie” is based on a true story, though many details have been smeared to protect the film’s darkly comic intentions. It’s a small price to pay for a wholly satisfying endeavor from director Richard Linklater, who turns a weird case of murder and manipulation into an almost lighthearted jaunt to the limits of self-control. Anchored by a wonderful performance from star Jack Black, “Bernie” is highly amusing and surprising, contorting a horrible event into a deceptively pleasant viewing experience, filled with laughs and mischievous discomfort. Perhaps the picture is ultimately disrespectful to the facts and tone of the case that inspired the feature, but Linklater’s work here is strangely reverential to community gossip and mental strain.

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Despite a punishing pace and a few lukewarm performances, “Sound of My Voice” still manages to preserve a beguiling mystery. Credit the screenplay by Zal Batmanglij (who also directs) and co-star Brit Marling, who layer in subtle twists and confrontations, keeping the picture semi-alert as it works its way to an unsatisfying ending. Although deeply flawed, “Sound of My Voice” does hold attention, creeping along with unnerved characters as they inadvertently find themselves on a journey of science fiction, struggling to separate reality from manipulation in a feature that enjoys the dramatic possibilities of both approaches.

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While it doesn’t come together as a gripping motion picture, “The Samaritan” does offer actor Samuel L. Jackson something different to play for a change. Gravitating to the same brute role time and again (years back, Jackson admitted he picked acting gigs based on his proximity to golf courses), the icon finds a softer side to his personality in his latest effort. Although guns are brandished and heads are smacked around, Jackson hits an effective note of remorse and resignation, blended with some unnerving sensuality to give a formulaic grifter movie an interesting spin, though this interest in unexpected directions is short-lived.

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The main character of “Hick” goes by the name Luli McMullen. There’s the film in a nutshell. An attempt to cinematically realize the Great American Story about innocence lost, “Hick” is a messy, monotonous picture, showing immense trouble maintaining focus as it labors to turn a host of disagreeable characters into meaningful figures of tragedy. It’s bad Midwestern poetry, carried by actors unqualified to handle such ferocious swings of behavior, while director Derick Martini basically gives up on storytelling about 20 minutes into the feature, hoping a grubby atmosphere of creepy men and vulnerable women is enough to patch the abyssal holes in the plot.

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When dealing with a movie based on a popular board game, there’s some sense of critical relaxation involved. I knew going into “Battleship” that it would be idiotic, hard on the ears, and directed with a lean toward total screen aggression. However, I wasn’t prepared for how noisy and moronic the feature actually is. Tasked with providing summer entertainment on a massive scale, director Peter Berg goes bananas with this production, turning the harmless merriment of kitchen table strategy involving plastic ships into an alien invasion extravaganza, frosted with explosions for the explosions and a 100-pound pop music star in a supporting role as a tough-as-nails naval officer. All hopped up on Michael Bay-brand steroids, Berg attempts to outwit his audience by playing so broadly with a painfully simple concept. It’s a shame almost nothing in “Battleship” comes close to genuine fun.

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At this point in his career, Sacha Baron Cohen has done one thing with his starring roles, and he’s done it well. With “Ali G Indahouse,” “Borat,” and “Bruno,” Cohen has set out to explore stereotypes and challenge prejudices, while making a silly mess out of every room he enters. He’s a gifted performer with fantastic chutzpah, but “The Dictator” feels a little tired, a little too calculated to create a few ripples of controversy. It’s a broad creation taking a whack at dissecting Middle East and North African culture and political tyrants (the movie is dedicated to Kim Jong-il), but the bubble gum doesn’t hold its flavor for very long. Perhaps its fatigue with Cohen’s comedic impulses or some good old-fashioned lazy writing, but “The Dictator,” while occasionally hilarious, is mostly flat and uninspired.

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The process of abridging a daytime soap opera that ran for over 1,200 episodes down to a single two hour picture is not a simple task, and while I only have a fringe appreciation for the “Dark Shadows” television program, it’s easy to see director Tim Burton has handled the translation to the big screen with a great degree of care. Unexpectedly macabre (it’s not exactly titled “Happy Shadows”) with a flexible funny bone, the feature film update of the cult show bares it fangs with some success, likely unnerving those on the hunt for a slapsticky good time. Although burdened with far too much story and one too many supporting characters, “Dark Shadows” is a solid return to form for Burton, who creates his most measured and atmospheric effort in quite some time.

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