“13 Assassins” is like watching a protracted chess game with an exquisite final move. It’s a samurai tale of allegiances and vengeance, and while its violent, blood-spattered path is engrossing, the film makes a considerable effort to slow cook the set-up, making the road to death’s door something significant, moving away from empty stylistics to stage a film of icy warrior valor.
“Miral” is a film of many themes, characters, and stories, though it desires to be a singular vision of history. Chaotically arranged by director Julian Schnabel, the film is an uninvolving mess, though a thoughtfully composed jumble of emotions and time periods ambitiously reaching for a distressing screen poeticism it never achieves.
Currently, we’re in the throes of a Hollywood obsession to bring fairy tales to the big screen. It’s a fad that’s years away from peaking, leaving the sneaky triumph of “Hanna” all the more bewitching. It’s not exactly “Snow White” or “Alice in Wonderland,” but a weird, swirling amalgamation of the Grimm Brothers’ catalog, sharpened to Ginsu standards by the Euro sensibilities of director Joe Wright. Think of a fantastical storybook odyssey crossed with “The Bourne Identity,” and you’ll have a slightly accurate read of the moviegoing pleasures of this surreal, neck-snapping revenge escapade.
The idea of a motion picture built around the rehabilitation efforts of a chirpy teen, with pronounced Christian messages to boot, doesn’t exactly promise a searing portrait of determination at the edge of catastrophe. Thankfully, “Soul Surfer” has an astonishing event to work with, dramatizing the incredible true story of Bethany Hamilton, a 13-year-old girl who faced an unimaginable test of survival, surrounded by her loving family, her faith, and tasty waves beckoning the surfer girl back to the spot of her greatest misfortune.
“Of Gods and Men” explores that unsettled psychological space between duty and survival. It’s a static, introspective picture, lingering on moments of thought and concern, eschewing an ambitious staging of political conflict to huddle close to deliberation, taking in the intensity of the room with a group of men not accustomed to expressing their doubt.
Writer/director Thomas McCarthy has made a name for himself through the delivery of rich characterizations, using formulaic plots to help establish the mood while developing three-dimensional personalities set loose inside a turbulent event of emotions. “Win Win” is generally more of the same from the filmmaker, though it suffers from a lopsided execution, struggling to stabilize dramatic footing with this fascinating group of lost souls. It’s a pleasant film with marvelous performances, but it loses a great deal of stamina in the second half once McCarthy succumbs to predictability.
We’ve been down this road before. Watching the average frustrated citizen suit up and fight real-world crime isn’t a novel idea, with recent entries “Kick-Ass” and “Defendor” working similar routines, even dating back to a 1980 John Ritter film, “Hero at Large.” To make “Super” something unusual, writer/director James Gunn has infused the film with wild serio-comic spirit, drawing from his years making schlock for Troma to shape a superhero lampoon that’s too horrific to be a comedy, and not serious enough to register as sincere. It’s a middling, puzzling picture that doesn’t offer a secure point of view to make its mischief useful.
Charlotte Bronte’s immortal tale of love and separation has seen its fair share of adaptations over the last century of filmed entertainment. Regurgitated time and again for both television and the big screen, “Jane Eyre” has been bled dry, with filmmakers of diverse backgrounds hungry to make their mark on a most celebrated story. Now, director Cary Joji Fukunaga steps up to courageously guide another look at the novel, unearthing something that’s eluded many creative forces throughout the years: A fresh approach.
I’m sure Christians are used to seeing a grand perversion of Christmas at this point, but are they ready to see Easter fully stripped of its religious meaning? “Hop” Santa-fies the holiday to fit standard kid film fixings, turning up the color, unleashing adorable CG-animated characters, and offering impressively dated pop culture references, making a mild matinee ruckus that doesn’t feature much in the way of creative invention or comedic might. However, candyholics and fans of David Hasselhoff will be delighted.
In 2009’s “Moon,” director Duncan Jones found clever ways to refresh sci-fi tropes and instill emotional stakes into a distancing story of isolation. Building on the idea of frustration through separation, Jones keeps the sci-fi and ventures into Hitchcockian thriller territory with “Source Code,” a stunningly crafted suspense tale of alarming surprise and resonance, elevating the young helmer to a level of accomplishment few filmmakers are able to achieve. Winding nail-biting suspense out of pure repetition and moderate existential panic, Jones nails a feverish pitch that takes a bizarre concept and shapes it into exhilarating cinema.
“Insidious” marks a return to the big screen for director James Wan, who debuted in 2004 with the original “Saw” (yep, he’s the one to blame), only to see that success wither away after two follow-up stinkers in the form of 2007’s “Dead Silence” and “Death Sentence.” Making his way back to low-budget spooktaculars, Wan actually makes an appealing ruckus with “Insidious,” a derivative but effective scare machine pulled off with a certain gusto, making the viewing experience a treat for those who enjoy their shock jump cinema.
Bullets, babes, perverts, Euro travel, secret documents, hitmen, car bombs, and testicular torture. Oh my. “Cat Run” doesn’t offer much in the way of thriller invention, but there’s also a scene featured here where dignified actress Janet McTeer faces off against a legless, one-armed D.L. Hughley inside a decrepit porno theater. Now there’s something I’ve never seen before.
Out of all the adventures I’ve enjoyed over the course of this week, I think my introduction to the masturbatory preferences of director Zack Snyder was my least favorite encounter.
It was merely a year ago when the world was introduced to the cinematic incarnation of author Jeff Kinney’s saga of adolescent woe. “Diary of a Wimpy Kid” was only a moderate hit in the spring of 2010, but it was cheap, crude, and ripe for expansion. Enter “Diary of a Wimpy Kid: Rodrick Rules,” the hastily assembled follow-up, which does away with what little passed for legitimate charm the first time around. Of course, fans won’t likely mind, which is exactly what the producers are hoping for.
There’s a flurry of hysteria within the psychological drama “Cracks” that keeps the sinister business frustratingly out of reach. A dark look at desire and mental illness, the picture boasts a few effective performances and features quite a humdinger of an ending, but the overall impression of sickness unfortunately loses its enticing delicacy as fears mount and lies are spread.
“Limitless” is a frustrating motion picture to watch. It’s a film that insists on sabotaging itself time and again, creating a visceral sense of rabid junkie behavior, only to pursue inert thriller elements that derail the whole enterprise. While it kicks off with a bang, “Limitless” quickly grows weary of minimalistic pursuits, contorting itself into a tiresome genre exercise peppered with a few seriously absurd moments. What a waste of a wicked premise.
“The Lincoln Lawyer” is a perfectly digestible legal thriller that starts off tall and proud and concludes on bleeding knees. It’s a charismatic picture due to a slick effort from star Matthew McConaughey, but, like a bad house guest, it overstays its welcome. Aiming to please in the worst ways, the film eventually self-destructs, though the view isn’t always intolerable during the flashy ride, orchestrated by director Brad Furman.
“Paul” should be a simple wacky sci-fi comedy filled with pot humor, unrelenting profanity, gay panic, and dry Brit humor. Instead, the film is primarily constructed as a valentine to the fantasy genre, showing more interest dreaming up inside movie references than one-liners. “Paul” is pure geek bait, an oasis of unadulterated affection for all things sci-fi. The movie bleeds green. Thankfully, in the care of screenwriters/stars Nick Frost and Simon Pegg, the picture casts an amusing intergalactic spell, borrowing a Spielbergian concept and filling it with all sorts of enjoyable absurdity and R-rated mischief.
Celebrating their 15th year stomping around the globe, Michael Flatley’s “Lord of the Dance” troupe finally makes their way to the multiplex, an ideal venue to display their flying feet and pearly white smiles. Taking the spectacle further, the feature is presented in 3D, permitting Flatley and the gang screen depth that accurately communicates the dimensions of the stage show, offering fans a front row seat to a celebration of all things Flatley. Sequins shimmy! Dances are lorded! And Flatley magically repairs a broken flute with his rear end! What’s not to like here?
Well, it’s officially here. Instead of Hollywood rabidly chasing the success of “Harry Potter” by turning every semi-known kid-lit book into a potential big screen franchise, the powers that be are now consumed with rebuilding the extraordinarily profitable “Twilight” phenomenon. “Red Riding Hood” is the first full-bodied, unabashed rip-off of the sparkly vampire series, doing whatever it can to mirror the romantic fantasy powerhouse, even hiring the director of the original “Twilight” picture, Catherine Hardwicke, to reheat the “magic,” only this time using the forgiving fairy tale milieu to obscure the absurdly obvious trace lines.
BRIAN ORNDORF 