Category: Film Review

“It’s a Wonderful Afterlife” is a particularly lumpy bowl of Tim Burton leftovers. Sure, it’s a cheery, determinedly macabre creation, but there’s little merriment to be had under such leaden direction. Spirits abound, yet filmmaker Gurinder Chadha can’t slap it together without resorting to tiresome clichés, which robs the film of needed life.

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“Secretariat” has a challenging journey ahead of it, released relatively soon after the 2003 legendary 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 for autumn, 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.

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The life and times of John Lennon have been documented on the big screen on several occasions, with each film endeavoring to probe the specialized madness of the reluctantly bespectacled musician who changed the world. “Nowhere Boy” travels back to Lennon’s formative years, looking to dramatize the unique domestic quagmire that helped to shape his fractured personality. Occasionally energetic, but primarily frantic, “Nowhere Boy” appears more fascinated with melodrama than investigation, mashing down Lennon’s surprisingly complex adolescence into a flavorless paste.

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“Ticked-Off Trannies with Knives” is the worst Merchant/Ivory film I’ve ever had the displeasure to sit through.

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To review “Never Let Me Go” requires me to spoil “Never Let Me Go,” and I understand how delicate a situation that is for some readers. However, the “twist” of the movie isn’t a twist at all, but a casual revelation that requires a modest readjustment of perspective. Still, I want to preserve as much of the experience as I can for curious filmgoers, so, if the delicate nature of this knowledge is a mighty burden, please do not read any further. Actually, one more thing: this is an exquisite, artful tragedy of a motion picture. A film not to be missed.

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There’s something about Katherine Heigl’s big screen output lately that’s become absolutely intolerable. Once thought to be a bright, sharp young actress, Heigl has settled into making dreadfully grating romantic comedies, pitching her charisma to a female audience seemingly ravenous for tales of flustered love with loathsome/lovable Peter Pan men. “Life as We Know It” moves Heigl into itchy dramedy territory, pawing motherhood clichés to pull her demographic in tighter. The picture is wheezy wish fulfillment, brutally concentrated on Crayola filmmaking while feeling out utterly unlikable characters who, we’re led to believe, represent a romantic ideal. Phooey.

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To make the obvious joke: “It’s Kind of a Funny Story” actually isn’t. A chronicle of suicidal tendencies, the core of the picture is driven by a huge reservoir of sadness, emerging from wounded people working slowly to deduce their failures. The title should be an ironic brand, but directors Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck attempt to liven up the premise with sunshine, assembling an eager beaver of a picture, looking to treat mental illness with a preciousness that often burns like shock treatment.

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Brotherhood walks on thin ice in Matt Bissonnette’s “Passenger Side,” an aimless indie production that hands much of its dramatic burden over to stars Adam Scott and Joel Bissonnette. Leisurely, but sporadically pointed, the picture is a conventional journey of estrangement, capturing a fractured relationship on a day-long car ride, where souls are poured out and secrets are revealed. It’s nothing ingenious, but those in the mood for a touch of visual poetry to their familial torment might find plenty to enjoy about this modest drama.

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“Chain Letter” isn’t a motion picture, it’s a cry for help. The horror genre is chock full of determined young men stepping up with their own visions for splattery cinematic dread, but Deon Taylor is a special threat. An exceptionally clueless filmmaker, Taylor takes full command of “Chain Letter,” hoping to kick off his own bloody slasher franchise that also makes time to warn the world at large about the dangers of technology. A severely muddled, amateur offering, the film is a complete waste of time. There’s almost pride in the manner the feature highlights Taylor as arguably the most inept director of 2010.

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At this point, one doesn’t enter into an “Ong Bak” feature film with much hope for storytelling simplicity. Though the production would like to believe they’re mounting a profound epic of spiritual oneness and mystical menace, the series is only remarkable for its brutality, flinging actors high and low to provide the necessary jolt that will appease action connoisseurs. For “Ong Bak 3,” the more outrageous gaps in coherency that have plagued the franchise so far have been pruned, but a few question marks remain, again buttressed by a limp-snapping, chest-caving ferocity that’s simply riveting.

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As the co-founder of Facebook, the popular social networking site, Mark Zuckerberg is a rather enigmatic figure, rarely caught out in public these days, despite being the youngest billionaire in the world. “The Social Network” looks to map out Zuckerberg’s rise from zombified programmer to online dynamo, yet lacks the participation of the man behind the keyboard, preferring to pilfer the pages of the 2009 book, “The Accidental Billionaires,” to construct a suitable portrait. Perhaps this is why the film is so sharp and rapid-fire, forgoing the need to appease egos, instead stomping around acres of mud, portraying the young internet wizard as a ruthless, friendless, untrustworthy punk inside a barbed wonderland of  litigation and dot-com startup euphoria.

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The internet is a powerful tool for information and socialization. It’s also a portal to liberation for some, who use online hubs as a way to create an idealized life as far removed from reality as possible. It’s a digital age comfort zone that occasionally spirals out of control, with some participants building a castle of deception out of their white lies. “Catfish” examines the puzzle of online interaction, how it easily seduces and soothes, as well as exploring how it can all go so horribly awry. It’s a fascinating concept for a documentary, but “Catfish” isn’t a hard-nosed, highly prepared look at the topic. I’m not sure it’s even a documentary.

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I find myself in a precarious position with “Let Me In.” Rarely do I encounter a remake of a film (“Let the Right One In”) I’ve dearly loved before — a picture that topped my Best of 2008 list, deploying an atypical artistry and sensitivity in the rigid horror genre that made it an instant classic. However, the film committed an unforgivable sin: it was foreign, assembled in the great land of Sweden. In Hollywood’s eyes, it’s like the feature never existed, so, a quick two years later, we have “Let Me In,” a gratuitous redo that nevertheless has a few intriguing visual flourishes worth a look. I can’t state that I enjoyed it, if only because this tale of disquieting affection and vampiric fury was executed so impeccably before.

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Filmmaker Adam Green has amassed a loyal cult following for his budget horror pictures over the years, though there’s never been much to celebrate. A schlockmeister with an appetite for broad displays of gore, Green likes to make a mess of matters, but rarely does he engage an enthralling cinematic spirit. “Hatchet II” covers muddy old ground for the writer/director, picking up mere seconds after the lifeless first installment of this series. A hoped for blast of renewed vigor does not ensue. Instead, it’s the same bland blood-spraying business — 75 long minutes of questionable filmmaking effort.

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Watching Renee Zellweger wiggle around a horror film is a novelty that makes “Case 39” stand out from the pack. However, the rest of the feature is tremendously unsatisfying killer kid leftovers, assembled idiotically in a bewildering fashion that suggests director Christian Alvart wasn’t expecting anyone to notice. Well, it’s easy to spot every false move this mess of a movie makes as it stumbles towards a preposterous final act. It’s nice to see Zellweger flexing atrophied acting muscles (her first chiller since 1994’s circus sideshow, “The Return of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre”), but “Case 39” is not the deafening scream queen comeback hoped for.

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“Monsters” is a good film that should’ve been great. The raw materials promise a stunning bit of sci-fi grit from filmmaker Gareth Edwards, who brings around an intriguing perspective on a devastating alien invasion, scripted as a clever allegory on illegal immigration. For some reason, Edwards figured the film could use a love story as well, turning a promising excursion through extraterrestrial occupation into an irritating mumblecore drain. Edwards has a great directorial eye, but his way with flirtation leaves much to be desired.

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“30 Days of Night: Dark Days” has little in the way of a budget, electing the DTV route to give fans a further glimpse into a macabre comic book world, created by writer Steve Niles and illustrator Ben Templesmith. Despite the lack of coin, the sequel is an engaging diversion, making the most out of its limited resources, boosted by a capable cast and some nifty make-up effects. In fact, it’s a more satisfying bloodsucker yarn than the 2007 original, which never mustered much excitement, despite an ample budget to bring it to life. “Dark Days” may not have the polish, but it has a few effective tricks to hold focus.

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I decided to review the English family film, “Skellig: The Owl Man,” because the name Annabel Jankel caught my eye. Perhaps best known as co-creator of ‘80’s icon “Max Headroom,” Jankel is more infamous for the last motion picture she co-directed: 1993’s soul-flattening bomb, “Super Mario Bros.” That’s quite a legacy to leave behind, with “Skellig” representing the filmmaker’s baby steps back into the industry. It’s been a long time since Jankel made a movie, and “Skellig” suggests the return wasn’t worth the wait.

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When is a sequel not truly a sequel? When it’s “Get Him to the Greek,” a spin-off feature pulled from the womb of the uproarious 2008 comedy, “Forgetting Sarah Marshall.” Knowledge of “Marshall” isn’t necessary to partake in the “Greek” debauchery, but it helps to locate the proper mood for this frequently hilarious, oddly poignant road movie, which once again captures actor Russell Brand in his most appealing form: tongue-floppingly lascivious.

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“The Human Centipede” isn’t a horror film, it’s an oozing block of pure shock value, begging on stitched knees for audiences to find the material vile. It pushes buttons and dares the viewer to keep watching ghastly events unfold, while writer/director Tom Six kicks back satisfied, perhaps even aroused. To admit complete disgust with “Human Centipede” is exactly what the filmmaker wants; however, the picture commits an even greater sin, despite all the arm flailing and slosh of perversion: it’s a complete and unforgivable bore.

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