Director Dito Montiel is a major fan of New York City. It’s been the
setting for all his pictures, and the helmer loves to infuse his work
with urban juices of bravado and street honor. For all his labor and
knowledge of the area, Montiel has yet to tell a story with any type of
encouraging success. With “A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints,”
“Fighting,” and “The Son of No One,” the filmmaker has summoned
tremendous passion and grit, but there’s always been a lack of
substance. “Empire State” adds to the nagging emptiness surrounding
Montiel’s screen efforts, only this tale of a heist gone wrong is more
streamlined, calculated to appeal to fans of the subgenre, and it still
shows no signs of life.
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Love it or hate it, “Clear History” is 100% Larry David. The mastermind
behind “Curb Your Enthusiasm” and “Seinfeld,” David’s DNA is all over
this production, which often plays like the most elaborate stand-up
comedy special ever filmed. Dripping with neurotic behavior, pained
observations, and non sequiturs, the picture is perhaps only of value to
die-hard David admirers — those who have minimal expectation for a
complete narrative. However, in the care of director Greg Mottola,
“Cleary History” doesn’t get bogged down in programmed shtick, retaining
a charming, occasionally uproarious silliness that keeps the movie
flowing along from one rant to the next.
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“You’re Next” isn’t a revolutionary slasher film. That it works so well
is a bit of a surprise, considering the staleness of the genre and how
familiar the working parts of the picture are. Credit goes to
screenwriter Simon Barrett and director Adam Wingard, who find a way to
refresh the slaughter of innocents for the big screen, with “You’re
Next” oozing tension while revealing an unexpected sense of humor,
managing to keep matters occasionally light as it masterminds some truly
heinous sequences. It’s a blast, perhaps best experienced with a
theater packed with horror fans — insiders already on the production’s
wavelength, able to appreciate the subtle twists of formula contained
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It’s been dubbed the “Three Flavours Cornetto Trilogy” (a cheeky nod to
the appearance of a special ice cream treat), but director Edgar Wright
has done an impressive job keeping these features separate in terms of
style and sense of humor. With “Shaun of the Dead” and “Hot Fuzz,” the
helmer fashioned a special tour of film fandom and genre exercises, but
all good things must come to end, and it does, somewhat abruptly with
“The World’s End.” Amusing and impeccably designed and photographed, the
latest work from Wright, Simon Pegg, and Nick Frost comes across a tad
undercooked, as though the creative team was backed into making a movie
instead of triumphantly mounting one. Although it has plenty of impish
intent, there’s an air of fatigue swirling around the production that
constantly hinders the comedic adventuring.
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It’s great to see something like “Drinking Buddies” make its way to
movie theaters. Especially in a day and age when most dramas pull their
punches, here’s a feature that’s decidedly human, trusting in the power
of internalization over the showmanship of melodrama. It’s an effort
that requires attention to tiny behavioral details, articulated by
actors contributing the best work of their careers, while director Joe
Swanberg keeps pace and maintains intimacy. It bruises and stings along
the way, but “Drinking Buddies” skillfully surveys the details of
friendships and longing, delivered in a messy, improvisational manner
that feels completely natural to the habitual hesitation at hand.
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There’s beauty to behold in the bizarrely titled “Ain’t Them Bodies
Saints,” which possesses a moviemaking mission to resuscitate a bygone
era of film construction that dwelled in mood and feeling, most
pointedly in the early work of Terrence Malick. It’s a quest shared by
many indie directors, but David Lowery (who also scripts) finds an
organic way of homage while detailing his own story of loss and longing,
employing an atmospheric sense of Texas culture to ease audiences into
this tone poem of a picture. Dramatically static but superbly assembled,
“Ain’t Them Bodies Saints” isn’t just an eye-crossing title, but a
warmly realized portrait of separation as therapy, appreciating all the
minor triumphs of maturation.
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“The Attack” asks very pointed questions about the nature of marriage
and the preservation of secrets in a romantic, intimate union. It’s a
film concerning the aftereffects of a suicide bombing in Tel Aviv, but
it doesn’t linger on the fury that traditionally follows these
sacrifices, electing to focus on those left behind to process the
mindset required to make such a diabolical personal choice. It’s a
harrowing picture with an interpretive ideological viewpoint that
develops sensational dramatic turns of plot. It’s certainly not easy to
digest, but the internal struggle director/co-writer Ziad Doueiri
isolates here is exceptional at times, giving the divisive topic the
meditative approach it deserves.
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It’s a given that “Rising from Ashes” succeeds at selling its
inspirational tale. After all, the story includes genocide survival, an
underdog saga, and a soulful rebirth in the form of unexpected
companionship, making the feature easy to fall for. It’s slight work,
without much in the way of a beginning and ending, but as a documentary
it scores with a heartfelt study of perseverance, watching those who
struggle every single day to contain their lives build confidence and
develop an alien sense of joy, with that purity of spirit contributing
to a sporting odyssey that’s more about human details than physical
achievement.
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We currently live in a “Harry Potter” and “Twilight” free world, with
both franchises closing up shop over the last few years, leaving
Hollywood in a mad dash to find the next big fantasy saga that could
uncover billions in box office returns over the course of numerous
sequels. There have been many failures (don’t expect a “Beautiful
Creatures 2”), but that won’t stop producers from giving the impossible a
go, with “The Mortal Instruments” saga from author Cassandra Clare the
next literary series up to bat. It’s difficult to surmise if the
faithful will fully accept the big screen interpretation, but it’s safe
to write that those who don’t have a clue about “The Mortal Instruments”
before viewing will know even less about the property on the way out of
the theater.
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For a decent thriller to work, there should be some sense of
plausibility to help develop a connection with the audience, allowing
them into the scheme of things through recognizable elements of
suspicion, espionage, and accusation. “Paranoia” doesn’t exist on the
Earth that we know and love, but a parallel dimension where handheld
technology is capable of anything, destroying lives with the press of a
smartphone button. Director Robert Luketic’s mistake is that he doesn’t
brand “Paranoia” as sci-fi, instead trying to wow viewers with a
contemporary tech-based suspense film that’s so focused on glowing
screens and the titular anxiety, it abandons any shred of realism, thus
turning a simple story of corporate spying with enticing possibilities
into an extended run of silly make-em-ups that never congeal into
nail-biting astonishment.
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This review contains strong language.

I was no fan of 2010’s “Kick-Ass,” though I was mildly beguiled by the
feature’s comic book vigor, playing directly to the core demographic
with a violent, sarcastic atmosphere that divided the audience into
geeks fully invested in the work and outsiders who couldn’t compute the
mixed messages director Matthew Vaughn was transmitting. Despite the
original film’s inability to attract much attention at the box office, a
small profit has triggered a sequel, once again adapting a comic book
series by Mark Millar and John Romita, Jr. Vaughn’s stepped down, taking
a producing role, and the insider shine has been scraped off, reducing
“Kick-Ass 2” to a glorified DTV sequel that’s determined to outgun,
out-slice, and out-diarrhea its precursor. It’s a vicious, ugly, unfunny
picture, and one that’s lacking the millimeter of polish Vaughn rubbed
into the first movie.
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“Lee Daniels’ The Butler” is the official title of this picture due to
ridiculous studio tensions that forced distributor The Weinstein Company
to make a slight alteration to the label to prevent additional
retitling banality. Turns out, the Lee Daniels brand on the feature is
more appropriate than previously imagined, as “The Butler” is sopping
wet with his filmmaking DNA, forgoing a clean sense of history and
timing to slosh around numerous eras and interactions, almost forming a
narrative by accident. It could some extra baking time in an editing
suite, but the movie is undeniably passionate work, doing a commendable
job making sense out of the helmer’s scattershot approach to a highly
ordered life.
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“Jobs” is a baffling motion picture, asking the audience to spent two
hours with a narcissistic creep who stomped on those who helped to build
an empire, flushed his family down the toilet, and treated underlings
cruelly. Of course, it was all in the quest for perfection according to
the screenplay by Matt Whiteley, giving Steve Jobs a free pass to
sainthood, where his tech world innovation, not his dubious character,
preserves his legacy at Apple Inc. Not that “Jobs” has any interest in
behavioral complexity to challenge the exalted subject, instead behaving
like a confused television movie that doesn’t exactly know how to
transform extended examples of unbridled arrogance into a hard-edged
celebration of dogged ambition.
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Although writer/director Lake Bell aims to construct a romantic comedy
with her helming debut, “In a World,” the effort almost registers as a
tribute film to the late voiceover artist, Don LaFontaine. One of the
most famous voices in the history of the vocation, LaFontaine was turned
into a pop culture player when his use of the titular phrase in movie
trailers became the ubiquitous opener for any production needing that
extra introductory punch. Bell aims to celebrate the industry and its
players with the picture, which is always most confident inspecting the
neuroses and power plays of the participants. The ooey-gooey material
just doesn’t share the same personality.
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“Last Passenger” isn’t a particularly innovative movie, but it does have
the sense to at least attempt to break away from the thriller norm. A
runaway train picture spotlighting a collection of desperate commuters,
the film isn’t about pinpointing the root of all evil, instead valuing
the cinematic appeal of sheer panic in the face of possible doom,
working nuances of character over an enormous display of malice. For
some, the lack of explicit evil behavior will register as frustrating,
as the feature does lack a certain edge when it comes to antagonism.
Others might enjoy the change in scenery, as “Last Passenger” is more
interested in the steps of survival, not the mechanics of villainy.
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As a film director, D.J. Caruso has primarily pursued more bubblegum
thriller material with “I Am Number Four” and “Eagle Eye,” while
inspecting the dark side of life in pictures such as “The Salton Sea”
and “Taking Lives.” “Standing Up” is a major change of pace for the
helmer, who loses interest in visual effects and suspense set pieces to
make a movie about two kids getting to know each other in the wake of a
terrible incident involving summer camp bullying. It’s a sweet,
sensitive story, guided benevolently by Caruso, who emphasizes the
tale’s kindness and bittersweet qualities, creating one of the more
humane tales of preadolescence to hit screens in some time.
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