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.
I’ll freely admit that I have a sensitivity to movies set in the Midwest, a place I called home for the majority of my life. To most Hollywood productions, the Midwest is an alien landscape for hopelessly naïve folk going about their naïve business while the coasts take care of the culture and style for America. That’s not the Midwest I know. I shouldn’t take “Cedar Rapids” seriously as an incisive take on “flyover” country ethics, but the least this tepid comedy could do is provide a vibrant sense of humor. Instead, it’s a riff-heavy, wildly formulaic modern comedy that uses stereotypes and improvisations in a gentle, but tedious manner to bring the laughs.
Cameron Diaz isn’t funny. Sure, with the right script, she finds a certain zestful comedic appeal, but “Bad Teacher” most certainly does not possess a right script. It has a wrong script, demanding Diaz carry most of the jokes on her shoulders, forcing her to sell the stuffing out of a lazy, unimaginative idea. She’s not built for the challenge. Perhaps this is why she wears ridiculously tight clothing and the highest of heels throughout the picture. Sex appeal: it’s a lot easier than dreaming up clever jokes.
“An Invisible Sign” is a film about the comfort of mathematics, yet it’s seems better suited as an itchy summation of obsessive-compulsive disorder. Chaotic and bluntly condensed, the feature is difficult to watch, not due to the difficult subject matter, but the manner director Marilyn Agrelo bumbles the mystery and borderline insanity of the material. What should be a bold depiction of a frazzled mind is instead a bewildering feature with a tenuous hold on human concerns.
Why on Earth would Pixar sequelize one of their lowest grossing, least critically favored motion pictures? Never underestimate the power of toy sales, which has fueled “Cars” fever since its 2006 debut. “Cars 2” at least makes an attempt to shake up the whimsical formula, turning the franchise into a spy comedy, but the effort is lackluster and misguided, dialing up the noise and violence while a cast of allegedly beloved characters are left in the rear-view mirror, playing second fiddle to explosions and gunfire.
“Beginners” is a heartfelt poem of grief, but it’s also a deeply affected motion picture that elects to neatly bag and catalog its every last emotion. Maddeningly plodding and mannered, the picture leans more towards performance art than engaging cinema. Writer/director Mike Mills is making this one for himself, and anyone not in perfect alignment with the movie’s glacial tempo of contemplation will likely become nauseous by the end of this lengthy, cutesy, empty march to the end of life.
Taking to the skies with a failed Disney superhero adventure and sharing some sniffles with Julia Roberts.
Never one to leave a Hollywood trend alone, producer Roger Corman decided to assemble his own “Star Wars” space opera cash machine with “Battle Beyond the Stars,” a low-budget (of course) take on Lucasian matinee mayhem. The results are predictably formulaic, but never cynical, with Corman and his team of filmmakers creating a sincere, engaging sci-fi spectacle that makes a lovely ruckus, though it lacks a cracking pace that helped shape “Star Wars” into a legend.
“Ceremony” is a film that thrives on chaos, refusing to establish characters or situations before it tosses the viewer into the thick of discomfort. The disorientation is irksome, but so is much of this exhausting picture, which seems to value secrecy as a way of initiating interest, yet doesn’t offer anything worth the time invested, issuing derivative characters and tuneless situations of longing coated with an ineffective layer of crooked whimsy that often acts like salt in the wound.
There have been many deep-sea documentaries, but rarely is there one narrated by a turtle. “Ocean Wonderland” is a 2003 IMAX release that employs a whimsical storytelling method to pull viewers in tightly, observing a big blue community through the eyes of its most passive resident. Considering the agreeable but formulaic structure of the picture, any sort of unusual deviation from the norm is most welcome.
I’m honestly baffled by “Beastly” and I’m not sure if it’s just my personal reaction to this brain-dead feature or if there’s something genuinely crooked about its assembly. I walked away from the film with a host of questions, as far away from the state of swoon the producers intended as possible. It’s a cold, often unbearably illogical film, but I almost need to recommend it just for the opportunity to read varied reactions from viewers. Surely, I’m not crazy, yet “Beastly” made me feel disconnected from reality, and not in an enchantingly escapist manner.
“Green Lantern” is a superhero film where nothing genuinely super occurs. A longtime bridesmaid in the comic book realm, Green Lantern finally takes command of his own cinematic vehicle, but for all the shiny visual effects and unabashed goal to kick off a franchise, the production has forgotten to include fundamental elements of compelling drama and excitement, spending so much time building the world, they don’t have any fun with it. It’s a lifeless, tremendously disappointing motion picture, consistently making dreary choices with a limitless universe of powerful heroes and complicated villains.
Irish stepdancing has enjoyed worldwide visibility due to the efforts of touring shows like “Riverdance” and “Lord of the Dance.” “Jig” looks to study the genesis of the training, observing the considerable physical efforts from teens and pre-teens as they prepare, worry, and compete, all hoping to achieve a title at the Irish Dancing World Championships, held in Glasgow, Scotland. It’s all sweat, stomps, and caked-on make-up as these girls (and a few boys) chase their dreams, for personal glory and, of course, to appease their parents.
Jim Carrey has made a number of stinkers during his career, but what makes the repellent “Mr. Popper’s Penguins” such a heartbreaker is that it arrives so soon after the domestic release of one of his finest performances, as the sneaky Steven Russell in “I Love You Phillip Morris.” It’s paycheck time again for the famous funny man, who finds himself sharing a frame with CG-animated penguins, barely staying awake while a moronic screenplay and an unimaginative director take turns urinating on a 1938 kid-lit classic. Come for the penguins, stay for the four fart jokes, four defecation gags, one shot of testicle trauma, and a series of sketchy messages for the wee ones.
“The Art of Getting By” is a decidedly formulaic motion picture, but it’s reassuring to see writer/director Gavin Wiesen present some effort into combating the clichés, eliciting acceptable performances and a few relatable beats of teen malaise as the script follows a familiar path of self-discovery and the heartbreak of first love. It’s a rickety picture, but one that captures a strong feel for city life and the reluctance of personal application.
Before anyone dares enter the cinematic realm of “The Tree of Life,” this much must be emphasized: it’s a Terrence Malick motion picture. The famously enigmatic filmmaker emerges from the shadows once again with this mystifying elegy, returning for his fifth motion picture since 1973. Malick doesn’t work a whole lot, but when the man feels the urge to create, he doesn’t screw around. A meditation on life, family, innocence, grief, and the origins of the universe, “The Tree of Life” is essentially Malick calling his shot, stepping up with Babe Ruth swagger to examine, you know, the meaning of life. And bless his no-publicity heart, he actually achieves a few tangible answers.
In 1995, after years in supporting roles and working his way to fame on “Saturday Night Live,” Adam Sandler was ready for his own starring vehicle. His first offering, “Billy Madison,” is many things, often labeled crude, dopey, and obnoxious — all true. However, the feature is also 100% Sandler, boldly unleashing his specialized sense of humor in a high concept comedy that proudly marches to its own beat. It’s easy to dismiss the picture as unsophisticated twaddle, but doing so misses the point of Sandler’s unique grasp on goofballery, with “Billy Madison” gifting the future superstar his first open field to run around and get dizzy within.
To explain “Rubber” in full virtually guarantees turning off potential audiences to this bizarre French comedy. It’s a furious run of absurdity that toys with perspective and convention, exploring the relationship between spectators and entertainment while staging an adventure rooted in the film’s strict “no reason” policy, as explained in the opening moments. Oh, and it features a tire that comes to life, rolling around the American southwest on a killing spree using its telekinetic powers. Have I already written too much?
BRIAN ORNDORF 