Contractually dumped into a handful of movie theaters late last year without a wisp of promotion or pride, “Mama’s Boy” has finally arrived on DVD where it rightfully belongs. A witless, awkwardly constructed comedy, “Boy” bungles its comedic potential at every step, turning what should’ve been a jolly 90 minute diversion into a master class on miscasting.
There was a character in the last “Austin Powers” film named, appropriately, Goldmember; he was a mischievous creation from star Mike Myers, performed with a goofy voice and an eye toward grossing out the room, but he ran out of entertainment steam early. “The Love Guru” is a cinematic equivalent of Goldmember: a semi-hilarious movie that corners itself too easily and grows tiresome quickly.
“Missed it by that much!” is the classic line from the “Get Smart” television series and could easily describe the latest big screen incarnation. A woefully uneven motion picture, “Smart” is a misfire, but not entirely ineffective.
It’s easy to see that “Kit Kittredge” is after family audiences. It’s a harmless tale told without a lick of objectionable content, sure to offer relief to many parents unwilling to subject their children to the heated warfare of lowbrow summer entertainment. However, as generous in spirit as “Kittredge” is, it’s an absolute chore to sit through for anyone not plugged into the “American Girl” franchise hoedown.
Actor Danny McBride has stumbled his way into several supporting slots in recent years, prompting the nation to cry: who the hell is this guy? “The Foot Fist Way” is to blame, folks: a low-budget wannabe cult comedy shot three years ago, only recently graduating from underground DVD circulation to a small theatrical release. It should’ve stayed in obscurity.
During the clammy weekends of June, Disney’s Hollywood Studios (formerly Disney-MGM Studios) puts on a show. Mind you, it’s not just any old show, but a “Star Wars” show: virtual catnip to families and nerdly shut-ins everywhere. It beams out like a siren song across the world, calling the Lucas-faithful to Orlando to partake in 12 days of the most Jedi-approved merriment a mere human can handle.
These are the “Star Wars Weekends.”
The Incredible Hulk is big and green, but his promotional tie-in assault has been rather petite and more off-white in hue. My old friends at 7-Eleven have tried to drum up interest for the new Edward Norton-powered “Incredible Hulk” film by trotting out a new round of lenticular Slurpee cups, preferably filled with the “Radiation Rush” ice drink. Because nothing says dee-lish quite like a mouthful of freezing green slush intended to represent one of the most poisonous substances known to humankind.
Oh, and there’s a donut too.
HULK SMASH! And he does in a big way in “The Incredible Hulk,” a Hollywood patch job of sorts; a production aiming to realign the comic book chi lost to Ang Lee’s angst-riddled “Hulk” back in 2003. Now, instead of heavy characterization and a glum attitude, “Incredible” reinstates the basics of the big green hero: destruction and solitude.
The opening movement of “The Happening” is a virtuoso guitar solo of alarm. It’s the sharpest collection of footage writer/director M. Night Shyamalan has ever committed to the screen, launching his latest picture on a giddy note of assured doom; a chilling introduction to the human race’s greatest adversary: the unknown.
Though it plays like a diluted version of David Cronenberg’s “Crash,” “Quid Pro Quo” impressively maintains a bewildering mood, probing into an underbelly of cracked minds and disturbing matters of desire. It frustratingly refuses to go bonkers, but the film is a compelling sit, brought to life by two very crafty, pointed performances.
Ah, white people. What can’t they do? “Children of Huang Shi” serves up another steaming pile of Caucasian liberation with the story of George Hogg, whose acts of heroism and benevolence saved a small army of innocent children and guaranteed him a spot as a future cinematic subject.
There’s much to celebrate in “You Don’t Mess with the Zohan,” which marks the return of Adam Sandler to an unhinged level of farce he’s been trying to stifle recently in his career. However, “Zohan” is like a second piece of birthday cake: it looks and tastes terrific, but it’s just too much indulgence. Hey, I’m just thrilled Sandler has stopped trying to pluck heartstrings for the first time in a long time.
It’s strange to behold a CG-animated film that leads with a swift pace and can manage to unfurl a laborious morale without grinding the whole production to a halt. “Kung Fu Panda” is a real charmer; a lightweight, generously funny family film that benefits from simplicity and a buffet of Asian cinema influences to pick from.
If there’s any filmmaker working today who defines the concept of “an acquired taste,” it would certainly be Dario Argento. Floundering in the industry for the last 20 years, Argento finally arrives to complete his “Three Mothers” trilogy that was last heard from with 1980’s baffling “Inferno.” It’s a blood-soaked homecoming of sorts for the director, and “Mother of Tears” reawakens his mischievous spirit. It’s pure insanity, but it’s a welcome restoration of Argento’s once Kong-sized chutzpah.
“Mongol” is looking to call its own shot with big, wet cinematic brush strokes of epic storytelling, blood-spattered violence, heroic romanticism, volatile brotherhoods, tragic childhood trauma, historical leanings, and animalistic mysticism. After two excruciating hours watching the film, I will say it’s all very epic. It’s like watching paint dry, but still epic.
“The Strangers” answers the question: could a movie be made where nothing actually happens? A breathtakingly boring motion picture, “Strangers” proves a filmmaker needs more than spooky masked killers and brain-dead protagonists to craft a successful suspense offering.
Every film critic comes across a title they aren’t exactly prepared to fully understand. It’s a complicated part of the vocation, but a necessary situation that’s valuable; perhaps even shedding new light on a cinematic subject. “Sex and the City” was one of those situations for me.
The murder of Barbara Daly Baekeland in 1972 revealed a sordid history behind the woman and the peculiar relationship she held with her son, Tony. “Savage Grace” is the juicy screen version of those events, and director Tom Kalin (“Swoon”) treats the nightmare with a perfect pitch of melodrama and hysterics, easing into the discomfort of obscene sexual violation.
Like many impressionable kids of the 1980s, Chris Bell wanted to emulate his wrestling idols, including the outrageous tearaway-shirted one, Hulk Hogan. Unlike many kids of the 1980s, Bell and his two brothers took the extra step and embarked on a bodybuilding career to toughen themselves up and reach goals previously thought unattainable. It didn’t take long for Bell to learn the ugly truth behind dominating physical achievement.
BRIAN ORNDORF 