It’s been a little over a decade since Billy Bob Thornton last directed a
feature. That’s a long time between efforts, especially when the
previous movie was 2001’s “Daddy and Them,” a forgotten southern story
that effectively grounded Thornton’s interests in the job after securing
accolades for his helming debut, “Sling Blade.” “Jayne Mansfield’s Car”
plays directly to the lauded actor’s strengths, taking viewers down to
the heart of Alabama to explore the fits and foibles of a dysfunctional
family, leaving room for an able ensemble to bloody their fists some
with a barbed screenplay, with Thornton a permissive leader, hoping to
catch blips of fury and vulnerability as the picture takes a leisurely
stroll down a path of self-destruction. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

Some films just don’t need sequels. 2011’s “Insidious” was a fine fright
machine with plenty of atmosphere, a corker of a plot, and a genre
drive to rattle its audience with a surefire burst of scary material.
Its conclusion wasn’t open-ended, but it was definitive in its idea of
inescapability, goosing the audience one last time before the end
credits rolled. However, the movie was a hit, reviving director James
Wan’s wilting career, opening the door for a follow-up. Admirably,
“Insidious: Chapter 2” is determined to transform a one-note story into a
franchise, but the energy is misspent, wasted a continuation that’s
labored and dull, with only a few crisp ideas to aid digestion. Instead
of furthering the premise to the next level of engagement, the
production scrambles to make sense of itself, with a desire to pave a
cleaner path to “Chapter 3.”
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“The Family” is a rare English-language action outing for
co-writer/director Luc Besson. Recently tackling political pictures
(2011’s “The Lady”) and family fare (the “Arthur and the Minimoys”
trilogy), Besson hasn’t touched idiosyncratic material like this since
1994’s “The Professional,” which ended up as one of his finest cinematic
achievements. “The Family” doesn’t rate as high, which comes to be a
frustrating revelation as the feature lumbers from one incident to the
next, unsure of its tone or its storytelling cohesiveness. It’s not a
terrible effort from the vastly talented helmer, but one that’s
tremendously disappointing, failing to live to the promise of its
premise, while its sense of humor is funereal at best.
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“Museum Hours” is almost a literal title for this picture, which has the
characteristics of a visit to a fine arts establishment. It’s
observational and reflective, allowing for personal interpretation and
artist commentary as it shuffles along, taking in the enormity of space
and meaning with atypical cinematic patience. It’s a lovely feature,
relaxing and exploratory, making it an ideal sit for specialized moods,
best suited for viewers able to slow their heart rate and enjoy the
view, allowing writer/director Jem Cohen to guide the viewing experience
as it weaves through a tale of two people and the city they experience
in both a direct and casual manner.
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There’s now a film-loving generation that’s learned everything they know
about cinema from VHS, the popular home video format of the 1980s and
‘90s. Moviegoing isn’t something they’re practiced in, only consumption,
brought on by an industry revolution that brought practically
everything out on the format, from heralded classics to material that
redefines bad taste. The documentary “Rewind This” focuses on the
intensity of these collectors and creators who embrace the possibilities
of VHS, keeping the spirit of discovery alive as they hunt and create
obscure titles, embracing the eccentricity and spirit that once packed
the shelves at the local mom and pop video store.
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In 2000, there was “Pitch Black,” a Vin Diesel action vehicle before he became Vin Diesel.
It was met with a shrug at the box office, but went on to collect a
fanbase on home video. Gambling on a newly minted star (still glowing
from his “The Fast and the Furious” breakthrough), Universal bet the
farm on 2004’s “The Chronicles of Riddick” — an attempt to stretch a
B-movie character over a J.R.R. Tolkien-style fantasy mythology, hoping
to jumpstart a fresh franchise. It was met with yet another shrug.
However, Diesel isn’t willing to let this idea go, reuniting with
creator David Twohy to unleash the unimaginatively titled “Riddick” on
the world, hoping third time’s the charm for this saggy series.
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Lynn Shelton is such an inviting moviemaker with an interest in the
purity of human reaction that’s gifted her filmography (including
“Humpday” and “Your Sister’s Sister”) a charming sense of spontaneity
and feeling. “Touchy Feely” is almost up to the level of her previous
work, but there’s an odd unfinished quality to the picture that’s
distracting, almost unprofessional. The screenplay invests in a
fascinating sense of sensorial immersion and deprivation, with
characters worth following for the duration of the feature. Sadly,
“Touchy Feely” doesn’t see its themes through to the end, leaving the
effort dangling in the wind, unsatisfying and needlessly drained of depth.
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It’s rare to witness a movie completely wipe out. Usually there’s a lull
or a noticeable decline in quality preceding a crash landing, but
“Afternoon Delight,” after a solid hour of commendable creative credits,
plummets to Earth in a shockingly abrupt manner. There are severe tonal
adjustments and then there’s this feature, which explodes at the
60-minute mark, sending emotional and thespian shrapnel everywhere.
There hasn’t been a film this self-destructive in some time, making
“Afternoon Delight” undeniably fascinating, but quite tedious once it
swallows a grenade in its final act, making it difficult to trust
anything writer/director Jill Soloway has to share on the state of the
modern American marriage.
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Thomas Lennon and Robert Ben Garant are funny guys who’ve never
successfully translated their sense of humor to the screen. Co-writing
iffy projects such as “Night at the Museum,” “Balls of Fury,” and “Let’s
Go to Prison,” the pair has enjoyed several opportunities to prove
themselves, yet nothing’s connected creatively. “Hell Baby” is their
directorial debut, with the pair now taking charge of their own
material, and they’ve selected quite a project to kick off this new
career path, constructing a satire of demon squatting and exorcism
films, though one with a fondness for non sequiturs and incessant
tomfoolery, keeping in line with their usual taste in laughs.
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“Adore” has a peculiar way of making unhealthy behaviors seem perfectly
organic. It’s a sensual approach to toxic interests from director Anne
Fontaine (“Coco Before Chanel”) that manages to preserve the essentials
in emotional exposure and untenable desire, making the picture feel
comfortable as it details some skin-crawlingly troubling interpersonal
developments. Although it breezes through time perhaps too quickly,
“Adore” is smartly assembled and honest when it comes to the longing of
its characters, approaching a potentially disquieting situation of
attraction with a certain sense of maturity where other filmmaker would
be more than thrilled to linger on the salacious particulars.
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“Therese” marks the final film from celebrated director Claude Miller,
who passed away last year at the age of 70. The helmer of “Class Trip”
and several other highly lauded pictures, Miller concludes his cinematic
tour on a slightly deflating note. Although buoyed by an encouraging
mean streak to snap the movie out of its fixation on technical
achievements, “Therese” doesn’t live up to the potential of its premise.
Fine work from star Audrey Tautou keeps the effort irritable, with an
interesting depiction of mounting resentment, but Miller seems
distracted to a point of being uninterested, consumed with making a
lovely feature about sinister interests, and it doesn’t have the impact
it should.
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While perhaps not a common pastime, I’m sure most children have
experienced the fantasy of playing make-believe war. With the rules of
engagement clearly identified, the event largely consists of combatants
using the honor code to successfully pull off the imagery and intensity
of combat, all in good fun. “I Declare War” advances this dark
imagination, evoking real-world aggression with average suburban kids,
mirroring the pains of the battlefield with a cast of pre-teens, turning
their afternoon adventure into a bitter battle of repressed emotions
and advanced stratagem. It’s a film about children but not for children,
making it one of the more fascinating pictures of the year.
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“Getaway” is a film fueled entirely on stupidity. And not the amusing
kind of dumb that generates delightful junk food cinema, but the
oppressive, lurching level of idiocy that takes roughly five minutes to
sink into the system. Cruelly, there’s another 90 minutes of screen
activity to digest in “Getaway,” and it doesn’t go down smoothly. Chock
full of logic leaps, tuneless performances, and mind-numbingly
repetitive car crashes, the feature is a complete waste of time, openly
expressing contempt for audience intelligence. The engine roars, the
edits flicker like a strobe light, and Hawke Holler is in full effect,
but there’s no movie here to follow, just a series of ludicrous
encounters meant to pass as some type of suspenseful endeavor.
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Based on the novel by Shannon Hale, “Austenland” arrives with a premise
ripe with potential. With opportunities for satire and romance, while
giving period film tropes a thorough pantsing, the material appears
ideal for screen exploration, yet in the hands of first-time director
Jerusha Hess, “Austenland” is unsteady and unsure of itself. While Jane
Austen fanatics will likely delight in the unabashed fandom of all
things Mr. Darcy, the feature just isn’t up to snuff, often caught
floundering with easy lay-up jokes while playing into Austen formula
instead of dissecting its intoxicating quality. The picture has charm
and a bright lead performance from Keri Russell, but it doesn’t come
together as cohesively as it should.
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