Category: Film Review

Over the last few years, Amy Adams has climbed the ranks to become one of the more formidable actresses of her generation. Blessed with Cinerama-wide charisma and impeccable chops, Adams has been on quite a tear as of late, singlehandedly elevating “Enchanted,” staying alert in “Doubt,” and making the “Night at the Museum” sequel just a smidge more palatable than it had any right to be. Well, it seems Adams has let her agents get the best of her, urged to try on an ill-fitting, fantastically lucrative romantic comedy lead role with “Leap Year.” It’s not that Adams isn’t capable of playing warm and fuzzy, but even her considerable gifts are no match for a sour screenplay that lazily staples together a tale of Euro swoon from other tales of Euro swoon. Adams, and frankly the Irish, deserve better than this tripe.

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“Youth in Revolt” is a very random movie that enjoys wallowing in a state of confusion. The film is smug and largely unfunny, but it’s consistently bewildering, and not in a manner that encourages further inspection. It’s a grab-bag experience built around iffy irreverence born from author C.D. Payne, yet the film seems to have tied its own shoelaces together in its eagerness to pay tribute to the writer’s intricate, darkly comic vision.

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While something of a master when it comes to art-house shock value, filmmaker Michael Haneke softens his usual death blow with “The White Ribbon.” A substantial tale of deception, accusation, and oppression facing a pre-WWI North German village, the picture moves steadily along in a grand act of exposure, guided by Haneke’s finest instincts for confrontation and chilling acts of invasion. It isn’t quite the shiv of cold-blooded reality the director is known for, but more of a fractured memory piece, with forbidding shards of destructive behavior jutting out of the most unexpected of places.

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Playwright Tennessee Williams could never be accused of subtlety, building a historic, adored career on the wings of southern-kissed hysteria, often pitched to the rafters. “The Loss of a Teardrop Diamond” has been described as a “long-lost” project, scripted by Williams while riding the waves of success that followed his “A Streetcar Named Desire” triumph. It should’ve stayed lost. A rambling, zombified pass at Williams-certified melodrama, the film is an absolute chore to finish, even while boasting a few fine performances and the luscious humidity of 1920’s southern comfort.

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Cynicism is a major component of “Wonderful World,” detailing how it can hold a life back from the smaller pleasures of the universe, offering false comfort to those less openhearted. It’s a mood exhaled into “Wonderful World” with overwhelming vigor at times, capturing the curdled nature of the lead character with unnerving accuracy. For this alone, the picture deserves a look. Perhaps not the strongest, most refined offering of drama for the new year, “Wonderful World” digs up a few choice moments of behavioral authenticity to make a lasting impression.

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The Swedish/Norwegian fantasy feature “Ronia, The Robber’s Daughter” is one of the strangest family films that I’ve come across in recent memory. Steadfastly refusing any type of narrative momentum, “Daughter” prefers to live in the moment, conjuring a storybook mood through extreme bouts of stasis, wallowing in the natural splendor of the locations and delighting in the expressive faces of the eclectic cast. At 140 minutes, “Daughter” is an acquired taste, leaving me to wonder why, 25 years after its original release, the picture has amassed a loyal following and loopy reputation as a wholesome moviegoing event for the entire family.

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Cinematic Titanic took off the majority of the 2009 DVD release year to do something few riffing outfits do: tour across America. While a joyous occasion, the cities the group visited were limited, keeping to only a few hotspots, while the rest of us unlucky souls were left in a comedy phantom zone, without any new product to satisfy the insatiable Cinematic Titanic urge. Well, the wait is finally over, with our riff heroes blazing back to ravenous DVD players with their most harmonious project yet, “East Meets Watts,” which not only serves as their long-awaited new release, but also as a document of the live Cinematic Titanic event a majority of admirers haven’t had the opportunity to devour.

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In the first reel of “District 13: Ultimatum,” we watch as one of our heroes, in the midst of tagging crime bosses left and right for arrest, must brawl his way out of a criminal lair, armed only with his martial arts skills and a rare Van Gogh painting, a masterpiece he’s trying to protect from damage. It’s a breathless, electric bout of action cinema, merging the fine art of limb-breaking with the fine art of protecting the fine arts. As sequels go, “Ultimatum” doesn’t retain the same pliability as 2004’s “District B13,” but it’s awfully easy to get lost within this crazy, Frenchified action world of parkour and gang warfare.

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Having embraced both “Revolver” (a wild brain tickler of a mystery) and “RocknRolla” (its diluted, but funky cousin) in the face of worldwide derision and miniscule box office returns, I can understand director Guy Ritchie’s sudden craving to make an accessible feature film. Thank heavens he found “Sherlock Holmes.” A vivacious adventure picture, “Holmes” funnels Ritchie’s visual gifts into an engaging reawakening of the world-famous consulting detective, bringing the iconic sleuth to a new generation of filmgoers by way of fisticuffs, homoerotic tension, and cunning star power.

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Writer/director Nancy Meyers has purchased herself one heck of an insurance policy by casting the likes of Meryl Streep, Steve Martin, and Alec Baldwin for “It’s Complicated.” It almost feels like she’s cheating to win over audiences. As sneaky a move as it is, “It’s Complicated” is saved by three consistent, surprising performances, gelling superbly together in a tepid, but comfy sweater adult-oriented comedy; better with intimate acts of submission than it is with broad strokes of slapstick.

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“Crazy Heart” was called up from the studio minor leagues this Oscar season when Fox Searchlight couldn’t find much in their year to push for awards. They sniffed out gold in Jeff Bridges’s portrayal of a boozy, greasy, at-the-end-of-his-rope country singer, hurrying “Crazy Heart” into release to roll around in the assured accolades. And Bridges is exceptional here; it’s the movie itself that’s less urgent and awkwardly defined, throttling Bridges’s impressively discombobulated performance, leaving one to wonder why there’s even a plot to “Crazy Heart” in the first place.

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It’s strange to recall that 2007’s “Alvin and the Chipmunks” wasn’t just a standard, “it’s winter, get me out of the house” hit, but one of the highest grossing films of that year. Seems Chipmunk fever was waiting for the proper moment to strike back from cultural obscurity. Two years later we have the goofily titled “Squeakquel,” which tries to replicate the…er, magic of the original film by repeating essentially the same story, only updating the pop tunes performed and the lead character. Otherwise, it’s the same chipmunk business, only the novelty, if there was any to begin with, has worn away.

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With “The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus,” director Terry Gilliam makes the sort of the picture he’s been pumping out since 1998: borderline unendurable. Coming off his career-torching work with 2006’s “Tideland,” it’s comforting to observe “Parnassus” assume a less abrasive attitude when it comes to specifying the pageantry of the subconscious. However, that doesn’t mean Gilliam has dropped his defenses. “Parnassus” remains steadfastly tedious, noisy, and incomprehensible, only cushioned from total disaster by Gilliam’s sporadically comforting visual fetishes.

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I’m sure there will be much hullabaloo accompanying the release of Mike Judge’s “Extract,” as the film is a return to the workplace blues genre that made Judge a cult hero with the 1999 picture, “Office Space.” The comparison needlessly reduces “Extract” to an afterthought when it’s actually a sturdy, uproarious comedy that solidifies Judge’s voice as a relaxed filmmaker with impeccable timing and a valuable interest in blending the absurd with the awkwardly real.

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The screenplay for “G-Force” seems to fumble the joy of the concept, hunting for a more impactful way to tell a very silly story. This might be the reason there’s a frantic, suffocating thinking that ends up marring the picture. This is a team of super spy guinea pigs getting into all sorts of hijinks, there’s little need to add pathos or rigid character arcs. “G-Force” feels the urge to present audiences with a sympathetic portrayal of talking animals, when it’s clear that potential viewers, both young and old, would rather see these heroes in all stages of miniature combat and furry teamwork instead.

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If there’s a single sin to zero in on while watching “Nine,” it has to be the way it makes Federico Fellini feel absolutely insufferable. The Broadway musical “Nine,” a shadow of the 1963 Fellini film “8 1/2,” makes its cinematic debut after nearly 30 years of wowing audiences with its lurid behaviors and zesty Italian style. While I’ve never had the pleasure of seeing the stage show, I’ve suffered through its filmic incarnation, which douses everything plausibly irresistible about the original material (and “8 1/2”) in a sickly goo of glum behavior and dodgy characterizations, scored to a jukebox of graceless songs. A boldly chic celebration of sultry 1960s Italy and its lush cinematic persuasions this film is most certainly not, no matter how many hindquarters are thrust into the air, skinny ties are tied, or cigarettes smoked.

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