Category: Film Review

I like Will Ferrell when he slips into serious dramatic actor mode. The creative tidal change suits his abilities, permitting the perennial clown an opportunity to show off his unexpected range. “Everything Must Go” is perhaps Ferrell’s most consistent work as an actor, stepping inside a dubious character enduring the worst week of his life. Though streaks of comedy are present, this is Ferrell crouching in a dark corner, playing a complicated role in an unsteady, though rewarding psychological drama.

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“Last Night” is an account of marital trust put to the test, though it’s not a habitual situation of primitive carnal delights. The picture dares to approach the sensitivity of emotional need, asking difficult questions about infidelity, submitting a disconcerting query: When it comes to wandering eyes and escalating flirtations, what’s the worst offense, sex or love?

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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 multiplex dominance, taking on the trials of family and marriage with the charming feature, “Jumping the Broom.”

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“Something Borrowed” is a romantic comedy, thus immediately placing its contents outside the border of reality. That whimsy established, this movie is still a total crock. Even by the low standards set by the occasionally nauseating genre, the feature doesn’t play fair, electing to strip a complex situation of romance and friendship free of any human qualities. With all the crude good vs. evil scenarios passed around in this unbearable motion picture, it might as well be a western.

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Now here’s a superhero that’s difficult to translate to the big screen. Born of mythology and armed with a magical hammer, Thor isn’t exactly Batman or Iron Man, lacking the brood and the gadgets required to keep viewers in a shadowy mood of fractured valor. To successfully bring the character to cinemas, director Kenneth Branagh has conjured an epic visual experience, infusing “Thor” with the expansive sweep of a comic book and some snappy personality, creating a wildly entertaining yarn that effectively launches the adventures of a new caped crusader (and his trusty hammer).

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It’s easy to misjudge the South Korean drama, “Poetry.” From the outside, it might appear as another mawkish tale of self-discovery, with an older woman finally seizing the finer triumphs of the world in the twilight of her life, tasting her surrounding at the very moment it’s all about to be taken away from her. Instead, “Poetry” is a far more pained, unsentimental picture, investigating the commotion raging inside a perplexed grandmother, generating over two hours of spellbinding introspection.

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Marketing is everywhere, surrounding us daily with a sensorial assault that’s slowly become white noise. The public’s ability to tune it all out has stymied advertisers, requiring more subtle means to push their brands to consumers. It’s an elaborate game of buying and selling, with the average human powerless to stop the madness. Documentarian Morgan Spurlock? Well, he wants to contribute to the invasion in the name of satire. Or whatever Spurlock calls his toothless brand of filmmaking these days.

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Based on the popular international comic book created by Tiziano Sclavi, “Dylan Dog: Dead of Night” is a monster movie trapped inside an exposition hurricane. It’s a winded movie of relentless explanation, eager to guide newcomers safely into a world of the comically undead, absurdly underlining every single move it makes. The thoughtfulness is commendable but the storytelling is atrocious, wrecking a perfectly low-fi creature feature.

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Well, it took the producers long enough, but they’ve finally made a “Fast and the Furious” film that didn’t immediately trigger my gag reflex. “Fast Five” is the fifth installment of this unlikely saga of cars and bros, and while dopey as ever, the fun factor has increased exponentially now that certain plot elements and subculture porn has been ditched to roughhouse in Rio with a band of crooks who’ve blossomed into a family. The acting remains atrocious, but the formula has been altered dramatically, injecting needed restlessness into a comatose franchise.

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Many films claim reverence for the work of John Hughes, insisting their high school scripts match the idiosyncratic tone and wit of the late filmmaker. “Prom” is an unassuming dramedy that also genuflects before the “Breakfast Club” architect, only this reserved production actually manages to replicate a minor amount of Hughesian DNA. Though at times unforgivably plodding, this gentle teen picture keeps matters surprisingly human, evading abrasive Disney Channel trappings to play more sensitively, thus encouraging a heartier emotional investment.

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Now here’s a sequel nobody asked for. A modest box office hit, “Hoodwinked” cut through the competition with its brand of fairy tale satire and sarcasm, providing a budget “Shrek” experience for families hungry for something to see in January, 2006. The sequel limps to screens five years later (after a year gathering dust on the shelf), and while the technical effort shows some badly needed improvement, the jokes are as stale and dated as ever, making the second round a sleepy viewing event, despite the presence of a splashy 3D makeover to pinch a few more bucks out of paying customers.

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George Lucas. The name alone elicits quite a response in today’s geek community. The “Star Wars” universe of appreciation is no longer about starry-eyed fandom, instead transformed into a full-fledged religion, sparking a passion within its congregation that’s so profound, so damn testy, it’s easy to miss the sense of love so many swear they’re upholding with their criticisms. “The People vs. George Lucas” is a documentary covering the stormy reaction to filmmaker and his controversial artistic choices, debating the merits of his career and the perversion of his greatest success. In other words, it’s “Internet Forum: The Movie.”

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Within the first 10 minutes of “Madea’s Big Happy Family” a doctor is groped, the lead character is handed a cancer death sentence, and perennial boob Mr. Brown (David Mann) threatens to beat a woman. In other words, it’s business as usual for writer/director Tyler Perry, last seen slinging Oscar bait with the sobering drama, “For Colored Girls.” Receiving a frosty response to his “mature” motion picture, Perry has hurriedly returned to the cross-dressing comfort of Madea, slapping together a half-finished vehicle for his most popular character. It’s back to threats, stress, and Jesus, with this latest film a slapdash, tedious reworking of old business.

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Disneynature has taken on “Earth” and “Oceans” with reasonable box office success, but a story was clearly missing, something substantial to support the glorious images of life unleashed. “African Cats” attempts to rectify the situation by assigning personalities to an assortment of wild creatures, manufacturing a human drama to compliment the animal one. Thankfully, the producers stopped at exaggerated narration from Samuel L. Jackson, turning down the opportunity to have these regal creatures of Africa speak or possibly rap.

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Whatever magic was included in Sara Gruen’s 2006 novel, “Water for Elephants,” has not made the arduous journey to the big screen. An excruciatingly labored and uneven melodrama, the cinematic incarnation of the best-seller takes a vivid tale of romance and revenge and bleeds it dry of tension, electing to hang tight to a trio of miscast actors instead of developing the rich world and characterizations of the story. The best part of the picture is the elephant, and even she looks embarrassed to be a part of this charmless snoozer.

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“Rio” doesn’t break new ground in terms of animated entertainment for families, but what it does it does very well. A musical romp boasting an explosion of colors and an energetic range of voice actors, “Rio” keeps to a minimal plan of villains and personal triumph, summoning a charming, booty-shaking carnival ambiance where a bunch of crazy birds (as opposed to the angry kind) participate in some 3D-inflated slapstick, adding to the riotous party atmosphere.

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“The Conspirator” is a sumptuously shot depiction of a lesser-known moment in history. Taking place after President Lincoln’s assassination in 1865, the picture seeks to recreate hysteria and shady political dealings during a time of nationwide turbulence. Unfortunately, instead of mounting a crushing procedural picture filled with facts and figures, director Robert Redford elects for a more melodramatic route, turning all the accusations and disgust into a wobbly drama of limited emotional impact.

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Time hasn’t been kind to the “Scream” franchise, with the original film’s novelty effectively scraped away by imitators, parodies, and sequels, diluting the position of pop culture powerhouse the 1996 film achieved. We’re up to “Scream 4” now, and it’s a completely unnecessary update/reboot/reheat that essentially rehashes previous pandemonium, deploying the same nudge-nudge self-referential screenwriting and graphic kills fans have come to expect and perhaps resent. It’s a tired, overstuffed, overlong picture that labors to revitalize a comatose concept. The scream has effectively become a yawn.

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“Hobo with a Shotgun” started life as a faux trailer used to help promote the 2007 release of the Robert Rodriguez/Quentin Tarantino extravaganza, “Grindhouse.” It probably should’ve remained as a kitschy, grimy celebration of scratchy B-movie promotion. Since iffy internet jokes never seem to die peacefully anymore, we now have a feature-length version of “Hobo with a Shotgun,” and the upgrade is mostly unbearable camp disguised as hip homage, splattered with enough blood and guts to distract from a cinematically empty reality, with director Jason Eisener declaring screen war without any notable scripted ideas.

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Personally, I harbor no romantic feelings for the 1981 Dudley Moore sleeper smash, “Arthur.” Distractingly clunky, the feature is best appreciated as a film of its time, when a mainstream comedy could be built around the antics of monstrous alcoholic and still be regarded as adorable. It’s strange to be confronted with a remake of such beloved material, which still holds to a clownish boozehound mentality to acquire laughs, though much of the overt foam has been shaved away out of respect for the disease. Then again, Moore made “Arthur 2: On the Rocks,” so perhaps the character isn’t as precious as I recall. Remake away, boys.

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