Reviews

"Pitch Black" is an undistinguished entry into the "marooned in space" genre. A very mixed group of space travelers (including a psychopathic convict and a family of devout Muslims) crash land on a barren planet, only to find they are not alone. The planet is inhabited by man-eating monsters (did someone say Alien). One good thing is that the monsters are photophobic and can't come out into the light. Another good thing is that the planet has three suns and is always in light (the monsters dwell bat-like in caves). But then comes a major problem: the travelers learn that every 22 years, the planet gets thrown into a total eclipse (of all three suns no less). And guess what! This is the 22nd year! Uh-oh. This could be a neat and scary premise, but director David Twohy hasn't figured out a good way to film scenes in the dark. The monsters look like they could be terrifying, if only you could see them better. There is the predictable one-by-one reduction of main characters, but because of the darkness, you can't even be sure which character has been eliminated. None of this is helped by the awful performance of Radha Mitchell as the spaceship's tough commander (there seems to be a genre trend toward female spaceship commanders). Mitchell showed she could act in "High Art," so we will charitably assume that she was just miscast here. She seems about as tough as a val-girl at the mall. Directors seem to think that if you just take any actress and dress her in a tank top and let her curse a lot, she will turn into macho-woman. Not here. The saving asset of this movie is Vin Diesel as the mysterious psycho convict, Riddick. Diesel adds welcome depth to the character, and imbues him with an impressive Darth Vader voice. There are also hints of a back story on Riddick that seems to be more interesting than this movie. Perhaps we will find out.

Fred A. Leuchter Jr. is an execution consultant, i.e. he advises states on how to put criminals to death humanely ("I am not against capital punishment, I am against capital torture"). The first part of the film has the nerdy Leuchter recounting his career in garrulous fashion and propounding the pros and cons of various methods of execution (for the record, he favors the electric chair, but only if it is designed by him). Already we are firmly planted in the Errol Morris landscape of blooming eccentrics, complete with the odd quirks, such as Leuchter's daily consumption of 40 cups of coffee. But midway through, the film has a shocking surprise in store for us. It turns out that Leuchter had been hired as an expert witness by a Canadian Holocaust denyer who was on trial for spreading hate propaganda. Leuchter travels to Auschwitz intent on proving that no gassings could have occurred there. He returns with flimsy evidence to that effect, and although his infamous report is never admitted in the trial, Leuchter finds himself a hero of Holocaust revisionists and a hot ticket on the Neo-Nazi talk circuit. Morris does little more than point the camera at Leuchter and let him talk -- giving him enough rope to hang himself (a fitting metaphor in this case). You don't know whether to laugh at this nerdy little jerk or to be horrified. The subject is full of irony and dark fascination, but Morris's style is not as diverting as in his previous films, and he has trouble bringing it to feature length. Merely finding an eccentric character and pointing the camera at him is not enough, no matter how strange he is. What is missing are the typical Morris cinematic flourishes that we saw in "The Thin Blue Line" and "Fast, Cheap, and Out of Control," much better films. There are some bits of interest, outside of Leuchter's talking head, but not enough. I liked Morris's use of old home movies, some videotape of Leuchter in Auschwitz, and offscreen interviews with Mrs. Leuchter, his wife of short duration (the trip to Auschwitz was also made to serve as their honeymoon). The movie is worth seeing for its incredible subject matter, but it is not up to Morris's high standard of filmmaking. The best Morris-style film of the year was not made by Morris at all -- it was S. R. Bindler's magnificent "Hands on a Hard Body." Go out and rent that one while you wait for Mr. Death to visit your video store.

Jim Carrey's sensational performance as Andy Kaufman is at the heart of "Man on the Moon." In fact, it's the whole movie, which doesn't amount to much more than re-creations of Kaufman's greatest hits. Kaufman's offstage life is not as compellingly presented. Those who were hoping that the movie would shed some light on this most eccentric of performers will be disappointed. Still, the movie is well worth seeing for Carrey's uncanny impersonation (some have said "channeling") of Kaufman. When he imitates Elvis, he's not just imitating Elvis -- he's imitating Kaufman imitating Elvis. And his portrayal of "Tony Clifton," Kaufman's obnoxious alter ego, is a comic masterpiece. So, you will be greatly entertained, but still clueless as to what made Kaufman tick.

The original "Henry" was a great slasher film that aimed higher than the genre: it examined the psyche of the serial killer, so that the movie was more than just scary, it was genuinely disturbing. The movie's effectiveness could be credited to the masterful performance by John Rooker in the title role (in a less skittish world, he would have been Oscar nominated) and by the no nonsense direction of John McNaughton, which included one of the most chilling closing shots of all time. I happened to come across the present sequel in Blockbusters and, noting that it had a different actor in the title role and a different director (as well as an almost non-existent theatrical release), I checked it out with low expectations. Well, I was surprised. The movie is much better than it has a right to be. It copies the tone and content of the original pretty closely (including ultra-graphic gore), but at least it gets it right. And Neil Giuntono gives a perfectly good performance as Henry (like Rooker, he effectively underplays the role). The lower working class milieu that Henry finds himself a part of is as vividly captured as it is unsympathetic. If you liked the original "Henry," or if you're a fan of the psycho-killer genre, this sequel is definitely worth checking out. If you're not into this kind of movie (even when well done), then obviously you should pass.

I don't want to scare anyone away with the "D" word, so let's just say that this non-fiction gem is one of the year's best movies and worth begging your video store manager to stock. Using a no-frills action-and-interview technique, director S. R. Bindler follows the fate of 23 Texans who enter a bizarre annual promotional contest run by the local Nissan dealer. The contestants are to stand around a blue pickup truck, with one hand touching it at all times, and the last one left standing (70-80 hours later) wins the truck. Yes, I did say this was non-fiction! Fortunately for Bindler (or perhaps through his expert handling of them) the contestants turn out to be a colorful cross section, and you soon find yourself picking favorites and even rooting for them! The film manages as much suspense as any sporting event, with a lot more curiosity. Also, some profound themes start creeping in. This movie is sure to invite comparisons with those of Errol Morris, due to the eccentricity of its subject, and those who like Morris's work will surely like this. But Bindler deserves credit for forging his own less flashy style, and for giving us this one-of-a-kind, unforgettable experience.

I just noticed that "Melvin and Howard" registered a mere 6.6 on the IMDb rating scale. Don't you believe it! This is a great American movie. Director Demme and writer Goldman take a footnote to history -- a contested Howard Hughes will that named Melvin Dummar, a milkman who once loaned him a quarter, as one of his heirs -- and turn that slight material into a wry meditation on the American Dream. Or more specifically, the thin line that separates the American Dream from pure hell. Demme has a great eye for people like Dummar, a dreamer whose clock for realizing his dreams is winding down. The performances are terrific, especially Paul Le Mat as Dummar (whatever happened to Le Mat?) and Mary Steenburgen who won an Oscar for playing his wife. Jason Robards does one of his patented cameos playing a real life character (his Howard Hughes makes a neat hat trick with his Oscar winning performances as Dashiell Hammett and Ben Bradley.) Watch for the real-life Melvin Dummar as the counterman in the bus station where Steenburgen makes a sandwich for her daughter. This is a small but knowing and winning movie. It definitely gets my vote for "Milkman of the Month"!

This Kevin Smith dud may be the least funny comedy ever made. (It didn't register a single laugh at the showing I caught, and you're not going to find yourself quoting any lines from it to your friends.) The "good vs. evil" plot, which is far-fetched even by fantasy standards, has to do with two fallen angels who are attempting to re-gain heaven through a portal in New Jersey. If they succeed, they will cause the end of all reality -- and they can only be stopped by this woman who works in an Illinois abortion clinic and who has been selected for this mission by God. All of the theological background to this story is presented in endless expository dialogue, which when delivered by Alan Rickman, in a great performance as God's announcing angel, is riveting; but when delivered by the likes of Chris Rock and Salma Hayak, neither of whom shows any talent for acting, turns into boring drivel that you will find difficut to stay awake through, let alone understand (it didn't even sound like the actors understood what they were saying). Two good performances by Matt Damon and Ben Afleck, who do what they can to energize this boring mess, are totally wasted. (You're supposed to find it hilarious to hear two angels talking dude-talk.) ASIDE TO KEVIN SMITH: The Jay and Silent Bob act, after 4 movies, is really tired. Grow up and get past it.

Nosferatu was made in 1922, and if there's been a better vampire movie in the last 77 years, I haven't seen it. Don't be put off by the fact that it's silent. If anything, that only adds to the creepy atmosphere (hearing Dracula speak would have made him less scarey). The image of Max Schreck, as Count Dracula, rising from his coffin or climbing out of the hold of his death ship, is still sensational. Even his shadow is terrifying, as brilliantly used by director Murnau. The scene of his demise is haunting. Some of the narrative scenes between Dracula appearances are a bit melodramatic, but they don't detract enough to keep this from being the classic vampire movie. Horror buffs, you can keep your special effects. Believe me, if you haven't seen Max Schreck as Dracula, you ain't seen nothing!

This re-make is worth seeing for the amazing performance by Peter O'Toole in the title role. He is the equal of Robert Donat who won an Oscar for the original version (beating out Clark Gable's Rhett Butler, no less). Unfortunately, in order to see this performance, you're going to have to sit through some of the worst songs ever written for the screen (yes, it's a musical re-make -- bad decision, but musicals were big in the post-"Sound of Music" 60's). The songs sabotage this touching story of a quiet English schoolmaster through the years. But O'Toole is amazing; it may be his best performance on film. He does an especially good job of "aging" his character, and with a minimum of makeup. Petula Clark is surprisingly good as the extroverted wife who brings Chips out of his shell, and Sian Phillips is unforgettable as Ursula Mossbank, an eccentric friend, even if the character seems to belong in a different movie. This is an ideal movie to watch on videotape. Savor the performances and fast forward through those wretched songs!

This is the most sophisticated of the later Bob Hope comedies, which may seem like faint praise. But "Bachelor in Paradise" is a mildly enjoyable satire of suburban mores in the late 50's-early 60's. Hope is well cast as author A. J. Niles, who is doing undercover research in an upscale tract community for his book on sex in suburbia. The husbands mistakenly think that Hope is romancing their wives while they're away at work, and soon all hell breaks loose. The movie starts smartly before degenerating into a more typical sex farce. But there are rewards to be had along the way: Lana Turner, as Hope's real love interest, looks especially glamorous; Paula Prentiss shows her marvelous comedic flair in a supporting role; the 60's suburban sets are terrific; Agnes Moorehead does a funny cameo as a flaming red-headed judge who makes Judy seem demure; and there's a nice Henry Mancini score -- especially the catchy title tune (which made Ann-Margret a star when she sang it at the Oscars). This is defnitely not a first rate comedy, but it is now fun to watch as a period piece. Unfortunately, the video released by MGM wreaks havoc with the Cinemascope compositions. Letterboxing was definitely called for, or at least some judicious panning-and-scanning.

In the great tradition of "Alice in Wonderland" and "Eraserhead," comes "Being John Malkovich," Spike Jonze's totally original and captivating fantasy. The movie's originality is especially welcome in a time when almost every film to come out of Hollywood is either a sequel, a remake, or a knock-off. John Cusack is Craig Schwartz, an unemployed puppeteer who gets a job as a file clerk in a strange office with low ceilings on the 7-1/2th floor (Harry Potter fans will be reminded of Platform 9-3/4). It is here that he discovers a portal that sucks you into the head of John Malkovich for exactly 15 minutes (a nod to Andy Warhol) and then dumps you beside the New Jersey Turnpike. All this has to be seen to be grasped --- and it's just for starters! The film never runs out of surprises. The fact that writer Charlie Kaufman could have thought up a story like this is only half as amazing as the fact that it could be successfully brought to the screen. Jonze deserves an Oscar nod. The movie has more ideas on its mind than it can tackle (little things like celebrity, identity, consciousness, sex, and death), but never mind -- it is amazing and hilarious the whole way. John Malkovich also deserves an Oscar for accepting such a risky role and for doing it so brilliantly. It will be the first time an actor is nominated for portraying himself!

This is undoubtedly the greatest sequel ever made. What many people remember as great scenes in "Frankenstein" are in fact from this film (especially the sequence with the blind hermit that was so memorably parodied by Mel Brooks). In Dr. Pretorius we have the screen's number one mad scientist of all time (great peformance by one Ernest Thesiger) and in the Bride we have THE hairdo. The film is memorable for its expressionistic sets, lighting, and camera angles, as well as a terrific score by Franz Waxman (dig those blaring trumpets in the opening). The film is not particularly scary -- more gothic than horror, and unexpectedly moving, especially in the performance of "Karloff." Who will ever forget the scene where the monster first confronts his "maker" with the chilling growl of "Fraaaankenstein." This is one of Hollywood's great masterpieces and secures James Whales's place in the pantheon of great directors.

This late Hitchcock psychodrama about a beautiful kleptomaniac (Tippi Hedrin) and the wealthy man who is obsessed with her (Sean Connery) is a bit thin dramatically, and slower paced than his best movies. In fact it is closer to a psychiatric case study than a thriller. But Hitchcock more than makes up for that with his masterful direction. What is most striking about it is his dramatic use of extreme closeups, deft camera movements, effective blackouts between scenes, and deliberately artificial backdrops and rear screen projections that have an expressionistic effect. Amateur psychologists will have a field day with the symbolism (how about that vault!) and with the causes for Marnie's various neuroses and psychoses (such as frigidity and kleptomania). Also interesting is Connery's bizarre fetish for the klepto Hedrin that is reminiscent of Jimmy Stewart's fetish for the dead Kim Novak in "Vertigo." In short, this movie has dramatic flaws, but it is thematically intriguing and cinematically dazzling. (A bonus is the excellent, atmospheric score by Bernhard Herrmann.)

Three well-dressed hoods come to a small town to rob its bank in this solid 50's B-movie, well directed by Richard Fleischer. The Peyton Place type subplots are pure soap (except maybe for a bizarre bit featuring Tommy Noonan as a milquetoast pervert), but the bank job and its aftermath are pretty good payoffs. Chief among this film's pleasures are the great supporting character actors, including Noonan, J. Carroll Naish as a veteran safecracker, Sylvia Sidney as the town's crusty librarian, and, in early performances, Lee Marvin as a sadistic thug who favors powder blue suits and Ernest Borgnine as, of all things, an Amish farmer ("I thank thee, neighbor.")! If you like typical 50's B-movies, this will definitely be a guilty pleasure -- it's worth hunting for (I found a lousy print of it that was put out by some company called Hellfire Video). How can you resist a movie starring Victor Mature and titled "Violent Saturday"!

This mediocre film noir, involving the usual tangle of murder and deceit, is notable mainly for Bogart's presence. He's an army captain who sets out to solve the mysterious circumstances surrounding the death of a buddy. There's the usual quotient of danger and deceit and, of course, a femme fatale, well played by Lizabeth Scott who seems to have been born for this kind of part. Many of the plot points are either hard to follow or hard to swallow, and it's all much too talky, but it does have a memorable closing line! Worth seeing for genre buffs.

This is probably Scorsese's only film told from a woman's point of view. Men should like it too, however, as it's a sympathetic character study with a very strong performance by Oscar-winner Ellen Burstyn as a suddenly widowed woman who tries to put the pieces together for herself and her 11-year-old son. Strongest scenes are those in which Burstyn makes the round of sleazy bars looking for a job as a singer, and the later scenes where she takes a job as a waitress in a bursting-with-life Arizona cafe (these scenes gave birth to the TV sitcom "Alice.") There's a host of typically Scorsesian supporting characters. Especially good are Harvey Keitel as a violent suitor, Diane Lane as a co-worker, and a very young Jodie Foster as a larcenous kid.

All in all, this is an excellent comedy/drama, though more memorable for its highlights than its overall impact.

If you see this movie alongside Scorsese's similarly themed "Taxi Driver," you have to conclude that the director is not at the height of his powers. In fairness, he is hampered by a terrible screenplay. The overlong movie, a series of events over 3 days in the life of a burnt-out night shift paramedic, plays like 3 episodes of "Cops." There is no dramatic tension, nothing builds. We don't even learn anything about the paramedic, played listlessly by Nicolas Cage, nor is there any development in the character. A would-be romantic interest, played by Patricia Arquette, doesn't pan out and isn't very interesting anyway. Throughout the movie, Cage is haunted by the "ghost" of a young girl whose life he couldn't save. This constant re-appearance (in Cage's imagination, characters sometimes morph into her) is so repetitious that it becomes comical before the long-awaited end of the movie. There is some good nighttime New York imagery by Scorsese and his director of photography, otherwise this movie is a big-time disappointment.

The worst decision they made with this movie was including flashback clips from the original Brian De Palma "Carrie." It only reminds you of how superior it was to this belated sequel. Actually "The Rage" is more of a re-make than a sequel, since it follows almost the same plot line: high school humiliation leading to telekinetic, apocalyptic revenge. It has a couple of good scenes (the payoff will satisfy gore fans), and Emily Bergl is good in the lead (though no Sissy Spacek), making it a marginal video rental, especially for horror buffs who want to keep up with the genre.

Wow! It's hard to know what to think about this movie. It's got great visuals -- Fincher is the master of the dark. The dialogue is great, especially the funny and ironic narration provided in voiceover by Edward Norton, who gives another knockout performance (no pun intended). Brad Pitt is back in great form too. And Helena Bonham Carter, whom I had only seen in Merchant-Ivory type stuff, is a revelation here, though her part is not too well drawn. The hilarious scenes where Norton, out of boredom, makes the rounds of various 12-step groups are worth the price of admission. The fight club premise of the movie is interesting at the start -- in the line of angry white male movies that started with "Falling Down" -- but it goes over the edge toward the end and it's not clear if this is drama, satire, fantasy, or comedy. Then comes an absurd plot twist that pulls the rug out from under the whole movie -- the worst ending since Kevin Costner in "No Way Out." Still, the movie has many pleasures and it's a joy to see Fincher at work -- he seemed to have so much fun making this movie that he can barely be contained by the medium. (The self reference to movies are among the pleasures. It's the first movie I've seen that points out the little signal for the projectionist to change reels. I also liked the "little flashback humor.")

Altman's excursion into Bergman territory is a symbol-laden exploration of personality, highly reminiscent of the Swedish master's "Persona." But Altman's version is memorable in its own right, especially for the stunning performance of Shelly Duvall as Millie, a dippy working girl who takes her style cues from McCall's magazine. I haven't been able to get this performance out of my head in the 22 years since I first saw it. The scene where she plans a dinner party for friends is one the most poignant I've ever seen. And who will ever forget the way her yellow skirt always gets caught in her car door (I'd love to know who came up with that touch -- Altman, Duvall, or serendipity?) For that matter, I can't even forget her mustard-yellow car ("French mustard, not American.") Sissy Spacek is nearly as memorable in her supporting performance as Pinky (or is it Mildred?), Millie's childlike roommate. And Janice Rule, Woman No. 3, is consummately enigmatic. Some of Altman's flourishes seem self-consciously arty, and the plot takes some bizarre turns, but this movie is never less than fascinating. I was ecstatic to find it on PBS last night after trying in vain to track it down for many years (needless to say, I taped it). The only major flaw in this movie is the music soundtrack, one of the most irritating and pseudo-portentous scores ever composed.

On the heels of the great "Sixth Sense" comes this second kid-who-talks-to-ghosts movie. In this one, the father can also communicate with spirits, as he discovers (to his horror) after being hypnotized at a neighborhood beer-guzzling party. Kevin Bacon plays the father in one of his best performances yet, sympathetically portraying a young blue collar worker is is horrified not just by ghosts, but by the way his life is sinking into depressing ordinariness. The horror plot is developed a bit too slowly for a thriller, but it has some strong moments, and the denouement is thoroughly satisfying, even if it lacks the jaw-dropping climax of "Sixth Sense." The atmosphere and day-to-day details of the working class Chicago neighborhood are very well captured, especially for a genre movie.

Based on the true story of a quiet family man falsely indicted for armed robbery, "The Wrong Man" may not be in Hitchcock's top echelon, but it contains many of the master's touches and deserves to be better known. What is so unusual for Hitchcock is that he filmed it in a somber documentary style (in keeping with the non-fictional source of the story). He even cut out his traditional cameo, and there is not a flicker of wit anywhere, either in dialogue or image. But the film effectively explores some of Hitchcock's favorite themes (like how easily our seemingly secure lives can be disrupted) and it is marked by some masterful visual touches. Note how effortlessly Hitchcock can film a scene inside a car, seeming to expand the space. I also liked the expressionistic camera movements to suggest Fonda's emotions in a jail cell. Most memorable of all is the dissolve that reveals the real culprit. Francois Truffaut held Hitchcock to task for tainting the pure documentary style of this movie with these more cinematic flourishes, but without them, I think it would have been way too grim to watch (it's pretty grim as it is). Henry Fonda gives a fittingly unshaded performance in the title role. And Bernard Herrmann's score is subtly effective, especially in the title sequence.

I can't remember ever being so stunningly surprised by a movie. Glad I listened to the word of mouth and not the reviews. This one is a 10+ -- an instant classic in the ghost story genre. I can't think of another ending to a movie that dropped my jaw like this one. The script is profoundly clever and the direction is masterful. Young Haley Joel Osment gives the best performance I've ever seen by a child, and deserves serious Oscar consideration -- in the lead actor category! The movie begins at a slow pace, but that is deliberate and beautifully controlled. Stay with it and you will be richly rewarded. See it before you hear too much more about it.

This gross-out coming of age story is funny in spots, but it lacks the comic inspiration that made "There's Something About Mary" so outstanding. Most of the gags in "American Pie" are just gross without bothering to be funny (e.g., a kid mistakes a cup of urine for beer, drinks it, then throws up on his girlfriend. ha, ha, ha. There's also a scene in which one of the characters is shown having diarrhea in the school lavatory, complete with sound effects. The scene has no other reason than just pushing the envelope of movie grossness.). The famous "money scene" of the movie in which an apple pie is used as an onanistic prop was funnier when I read about it than when I actually saw it (the scene also owes a lot to Phillip Roth's novel "Portnoy's Complaint," in which the masturbation-obsessed title character has a go with a piece of liver intended for the family's dinner.) The young characters in the movie are appealing and that alone keeps the movie mildly enjoyable. The funniest scenes are those that are the least gross: Jim's Dad tries to explain the birds and the bees; Finch and his friend's sexy mom (who is like Mrs. Robinson on 'ludes) go about seducing each other (Mom: The scotch is aged 18 years, just the way I like them.)

This mess of a film seems like the work not of the accomplished Spike Lee but of some new director just out of film school, who wants to imitate Scorcese (from the Mean Streets milieu down to the bumper's eye shot of a cruising car right out of "Taxi Driver") while throwing in every theme he can think of, and randomly trying out exotic tricks with camera and lighting. It starts out as the story of serial killer "Son of Sam," but soon switches to a group of Italian-American characters living in Brooklyn at the time the killings took place. These characters may or may not be stereotypes, but for sure none of them is very interesting. Lee cuts back and forth among the Italian-Americans and their various problems and every so often goes back to the Son of Sam story, without bothering to make any connections (did Lee have anything in mind?). The scenes are without a unifying style or look. The acting is generally good, especially Adrien Brody and Mira Sorvino. But it is wasted in a story that fails to gain the audience's sympathy or interest. Even the steamy sex scenes fail to involve. Footnote: Lee should not encourage his actors to improvise. They seem to think that when portraying lowlife characters, the goal of improvisation is to use the word "f**k" as frequently and in as many parts of speech as possible.