Category: Film Review

When director Edgar Wright decides to make a movie, it’s time to rejoice. After the inventive “Shaun of the Dead” and the whiplash “Hot Fuzz,” the filmmaker has earned his hotly anticipated status. Unfortunately, there’s a crushing disappointment to find his latest, “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World,” lacking Wright’s deft comedic timing and rounded characterization. It’s an overstuffed miscarriage, spending 110 minutes skimming source material that was spread out over six very patient books. What’s the challenge here? What’s the point of taking something so incredibly dense and head-spinningly idiosyncratic and turning into a colorless highlight reel of cult references and high kicks? This whole endeavor seems like such a colossal waste of time and talent.

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Released around the world in 2006/2007, Studio Ghibli’s “Tales from Earthsea” finally makes an appearance on U.S. shores, after some contractual mumbo jumbo with the SyFy Channel kept the picture in a state of limbo for an extended amount of time. Given a polish with an English-language voice cast and branded with a controversial PG-13 rating (a first for a Disney animated release), “Earthsea” is an impressive motion picture, but perhaps not worth the incredible wait it took to reach the West.

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In 1985, director Joel Schumacher made a name for himself dramatizing the lives of the young and pouty in “St. Elmo’s Fire.” In 2010, Schumacher updates his take on the state of the youth union with “Twelve,” an unsavory piece of dreary, mindless ick from a director who can’t seem to get his act together these days. That is, if he ever had an act to begin with.

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If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. That’s not just a motto to author Nicholas Sparks, but the very key to his vast literary fortune. The architect of North Carolina soap operas, Sparks launches another granny shot with “The Last Song,” an absurdly formulaic tearjerker based around the aging appeal of star Miley Cyrus. It’s a fascinating attempt for the former Hannah Montana to edge away from her clownish Disney ways, but even Meryl Streep would be hard-pressed to make something stimulating out of Sparks’s paint-by-numbers storytelling effort.

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The “Step Up” franchise (it burns my fingers to type that) spent two movies trying to dance its way into the hearts of audiences. “Step Up 3D” wants to do the robot right into your lap. Taking furious body movement and kindergarten scripting into a new dimension of exhibition, this latest sequel offers a novelty that immediately makes it the best of the series. It doesn’t take much to climb that mountain of recognition, but there’s a bit more pizzazz to devour here, helping to wipe away the ceaseless stupidity the production seems dangerously proud of.

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It’s fitting that the Weinstein Company picked up U.S. distribution rights for the French comedy “The Concert,” as it falls right in line with the harmonious Euro imports they employed in the 1990s to dominate art-houses and, eventually, suburban multiplexes. A combination of feel-good sitcom antics and lush symphonic movements, “The Concert” is moderately tolerable sunshine cinema, perhaps best reserved for a moviegoing escape during a rainy afternoon.

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After 2008’s “Doomsday,” I lost faith in writer/director Neil Marshall, who torched all the promise generated by 2005’s “The Descent” to make a tuneless, odious John Carpenter wank that thankfully few seemed interested in. “Centurion” returns the filmmaker to an intriguing gallop, taking on the challenge of a historical actioner, following battered Roman soldiers as they march into Hell. This being Marshall, a nimble foray into brawn isn’t to be expected; instead the filmmaker floods the film with blood and growls, creating a mighty clang of history and gore. It’s Herschell Gordon Lewis’s “I, Claudius.”

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Teaming up for their third picture, star Will Ferrell and writer/director Adam McKay have turned their attention to the conventions of the modern action movie. They’ve made a buddy cop picture, but in their own absurdist style (popularized in the hits “Anchorman,” “Step Brothers,” and “Talladega Nights”), shaping the explosive, bullet-happy mentality of a streetwise thriller into a raucous comedy, starring a guy known for reducing anything in front of him into utter ridiculousness and another guy who’s spent most of his career making unintentional comedies.

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“Lebanon” is a war film of faces, not action. Here we find the ravages of combat communicated by the reaction of young men, soldiers facing their first true test on an ill-defined battlefield. They are caught inside of a sweltering tank, observing nightmares through scopes, participating in bloodshed out of duty, while they slowly succumb to the shock of war. Perhaps not the most effective dramatic statement, Samuel Moaz’s “Lebanon” remains a wholly unnerving depiction of battle zone madness.

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Art versus personal invasion is the premise that drives the documentary, “Smash His Camera.” A portrait of celebrity photographer Ron Galella, the film confronts the compulsion of paparazzi culture, isolating the experiences of its most famous member to explore the business of blasting the famous, showcasing a man who craved as much attention as his subjects. It’s an irresistible, illuminating documentary on a subject once thought glamorous, but now often resembles madness.

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The documentary “Hugh Hefner: Playboy, Activist and Rebel” aims to rise above traditional pit stops of jiggles and giggles while recounting the tale of Playboy Magazine’s founder and editorial icon. This is an investigation into a man who consistently pushed the envelope in the name of freedom; a gentleman baffled by repression, who sensed an incredible opportunity to create a magazine that catered to the curious and the liberal, personifying a sexual revolution that lasted for decades. Yes, there’s nudity and plenty of footage exploring the heyday of Playboy parties, but the picture is more concerned with the man behind the ears, who built an empire while changing the world.

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“Dinner from Schmucks” is the type of comedy that doesn’t understand the proper time to take a bow and exit the stage. It’s a funny picture that pays careful attention to the rituals of dumb guy cinema, but if there ever was a film that could’ve been a multiplex miracle at 80 minutes, it’s this movie. Instead, matters meander for nearly two hours, diminishing a pure expression of stupidity, carried out by a prepared, skilled ensemble.

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There’s something painfully off about “Charlie St. Cloud” that causes it to miss most of the dramatic points it endeavors to make. It’s a well-intentioned tearjerker, but the film appears to have been whittled down rather harshly in the editing room, leaving a picture of little personality, but perceptible ambition.

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It’s been nine years since the release of “Cats & Dogs,” and I don’t recall hearing anyone openly request a second installment. Fresh from the file of needless sequels comes “Cats & Dogs: The Revenge of Kitty Galore,” which doesn’t quite sequelize as much as rework the central premise of household pets as international spies. Handed a fresh generation of special effects, a worthless 3D bath, and a new cast, “Kitty Galore” gets about as far as the original, working itself into a lather that generates zero laughs and even less excitement.

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I wouldn’t classify “The Extra Man” as particularly motivated, but it definitely reaches for a level of eccentricity that’s just barely within its grasp. It’s a character piece, adapted from the novel by Jonathan Ames, delivered in an iffy fashion from filmmakers unsure of what they hope to achieve from such roving storytelling. Still, there’s a satisfying range of actors presented here who don’t exactly provide comfort, but they have a heck of a time feeling around the film for peculiar character beats.

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Attempting to balance the cerebral with the suspenseful, Alex de la Iglesia’s “The Oxford Murders” is a wonderfully compelling mess of a movie. It’s tricky trying to bond Hitchcockian flair with lecture hall semantics, but the director works his tricks with ace visual consideration. However, there are gaps in characterization that are too wide to comfortably leap, with more attention paid to the homework of the plot than its human appeal.

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“Ramona and Beezus” isn’t a very apt title for this picture, but I suppose it handles better than “Ramona and Every Damn Person She Knows.” A bulky screen adaption of author Beverly Cleary’s most enduring character, the picture simply doesn’t know when to quit, hitting a few bright spots of charm and harmless tomfoolery before its gets lost, turning a cute family film diversion into a modest endurance test.

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“Salt” is a tremendous load of action hooey, but unlike other action hooey, this action hooey has the sense to keep matters moving along at any cost. An adrenaline shot of international spy games, “Salt” convinces more with its sheer velocity than its enigmatic story, which is positively alien in matters of logic, physics, and hypnotic characterization. It’s a big, barreling popcorn adventure lugging around one element that helps to sustain its entertainment value and enhance its screen magnetism: Angelina Jolie.

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A quasi-sequel to his 1998 masterpiece, “Happiness,” “Life During Wartime” follows writer/director Todd Solondz down his preferred path of psychological deterioration and perversity, only this time the monsters of suburbia have returned in search of forgiveness. The real issue here isn’t one of atonement, but how much longer can Solondz keep making the same motion picture. Despite newfound political trimmings and an impeccable eye for composition, “Life During Wartime” can’t help feeling discouragingly conventional for the gifted filmmaker.

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“Operation: Endgame” highlights a type of showoff screenwriting that wows producers and pulls in talent, but rarely makes much of an impression once all the elements are put together. Ostensibly a tale of spy beats spy, this violent picture appears to lust for some form of outward importance or daring political stance, but the reality is a ragingly unfunny black comedy with lifeless stunt work and a cast stuck in cruddy improvisational mode, floundering mightily while preparing for death. It’s too bad they don’t all buy the farm in the first five minutes and save everyone the trouble of watching this film.

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