Reviews

It's gotta suck to know how you're going to die, what's it going to take getting there and it's the end result no matter what you do or how you do it. Especially for a self-proclaimed "control freak" like Wendy (Mary Elizabeth Winstead). She and some friends, and a few other people she just kind of knows, are getting on a roller-coaster when she sees it take an ugly turn: guy disobeys the no loose objects rule, the safety bars come free and everything f**ks right up. She gets off; others join her. Others don't, and... well, you know.

And, like both FINAL DESTINATION movies before it, you know that cheating death is a no-no. Figure out its "plan", save victims, and it'll improvise. So, as soon as Wendy and Kevin (Ryan Merriman) find out about a certain airplane explosion and freeway pile-up, and how the death "force" tracked down survivors and offed them, anyway, they go to the digital photos Wendy took that night and start looking for clues.

FD3 suffers from repetition (aside from being exactly like the first two films in this series): gruesome death, main characters lament, try and stop the next one, can't. Repeat. But, it doesn't suffer much. It's better acted than even the second installment - which I thought was darn good. Winstead is convincingly trepidatious about getting on that coaster, has a believable freak out. There's also a nice meeting of the minds scene between her and her rebellious kid sister. I liked the two stereotypical airheads, how they give each other an adorable little pound. I liked the brutality and ingenuity, and just sheer screw-PG-13 of the death sequences. Tanning beds that become incinerators, a nasty little drive-thru incident, the opening carnival ride -- all expertly done. The climax is absolutely fabulous. The dialogue isn't horrible; "If there's any place that makes me feel like there's no life after death, it's a cemetery." There's also, I thought, a pretty good point made about "the equality of death", during a funeral.

Sameness notwithstanding, FINAL DESTINATION 3 is a blast. Surprisingly, impossibly, the first really good picture of the new year. Now, fourth go round, maybe have skiers on a chair lift, it stops because someone accidentally misses their chair (been there done that), and a small low flying airplane plows into them. You could even start using, "based on real events" if you wanted; I think I read about that actually happening, once.

The third theatrical film directed by character-actor Saul Rubinek (did he flat-out own TRUE ROMANCE, or what) is a curious thing. Witty, and oddly fascinating, but at the end of the day just too damn esoteric for my taste.

The title refers to a video diary project of sorts that Betty (Wendel Meldrum) puts together to capture private confessions, or as a performance piece, or manipulation technique, or – hell, I couldn't figure it out. She hides her camera everywhere, takes it with her to the gynecologist, to work, on blind dates. Tapes herself talking about Buddhism and how "the inside of the mouth is the same kind of skin as inside the vagina".

Does she really want to know all the stuff she gets about other people, and if so, why? Will she be using the material in some evidentiary way? Is it simply to call attention to the way some people say one thing and turn around and do another, then try and justify it? Or, does Betty just need someone or thing to talk and share her innermost thoughts with, so the digital recorder acts as a therapist? The film never comes clean.

There's a scene at the end where Betty plays her tape to a roomful of people who've unwittingly acted as supporting cast members, and aside from using the word "unconscionable", they mostly remain speechless. At first, CRUEL BUT NECESSARY is funny and intriguing, but by that last scene, you gotta throw your hands up. It's well-acted and written, with Meldrum, our Betty, giving a spot-on, terrific performance. But d*mned if I know what the point was.

One of those Thank-God-I-don't-live-there documentaries. This one tells of two warring factions in Colombia, guerrillas and paramilitaries, and the surrounding peoples of Medellin.

Guns, drugs and death run rampant. The guys, no older than 22, not in the middle of fighting a war are in jail. The girls – not women, girls – always react the same way when one of them is killed, with tears and screaming. You scratch your head; what did they expect, really? I don't know what's more disturbing: the nightly shoot-outs and civil unrest, or that everybody just seems to passively accept things as are. Or, seeing that boy drinking what is obviously not his first beer, being all of what, 10? If you were to take these any of these young men out of their situation and put them some place where they had the opportunity to do more, be more, how many would choose not to stay?

Based on this documentary, all, I'm afraid.

There's a 30 to 45-minute movie buried in THE GRUDGE that would've been perfectly decent fright fare. A house, where awful things happened to the original owners, has awful things happen to anyone else who enters. Like THE RING, in a way, except instead of a videotape you watch, then die, there's this big house you set foot in, and then die. And, it doesn't take a week.

A half hour of this would do; at feature length, it takes its toll. A character hears a noise off-screen, then slowly, cautiously walks toward it, the soundtrack building to crescendo, weird sh*t happens to them, fade to black. Repeat. Surely, it wasn't necessary to see this more than once or twice. But, alas.

I think Sarah Michelle Gellar is ridiculously cute. I'd love to see her in something darker, with more of an edge. Stephen Susco's script, here, doesn't have her doing a whole whole lot, so most of her acting's got to be in the eyes. Unfortunately, all we get is a look of innocence, or a look of consternation. Lazy performance. And, the film is too mild-mannered for its own good, anyway. There are scares -- one in particular, with Gellar taking a bus home, reminded me I had a pulse -- only few, and far between.

Anyone who can explain why the ghost kills certain people, while only scaring others into catatonia, wins a prize.

So what if M. Night Shyamalan's latest twist ending is shamelessly ridiculous. To write-off THE VILLAGE because of its conclusion would be dismissing an Oscar worthy supporting performance by Bryce Dallas Howard (you can tell this girl is going to be able to do _anything_ on screen), her tender scenes with Joaquin Phoenix and the lovely music that flows out of Hilary Hahn's violin. This is an intriguing, textured film; the work of a master storyteller. When you're under Shyamalan's spell, there's nothing like it.

A group of settlers live in fear of the creatures inhabiting their village outskirts. The movie isn't terribly interested with the inner workings of this community -- what do these people _do_, anyway? -- nor does it quite explain why everyone speaks contraction-free. It and they seem to exist solely for us to eventually find out if the monsters ("those we do not speak of") are for real or not. For the answer, look no further than the message board below.

There's a revelation made late in THE VILLAGE that, on the page, you probably couldn't help but laugh at. On the screen, though, it sorta works, because by the time we get to it, the proper atmosphere hass been established and the timing is right, and it doesn't linger. Too much. Those who dwell on it and don't forgive the rest of the film aren't giving Shyamalan credit for how gifted a filmmaker he is. He knows how to compose scenes in a way that's distinct: like Tarantino, or Scorcese, or Fincher, we can tell this guy's movies apart from other directors. He knows how to write dialogue and, better yet, knows how to pick the actors to perform it. Phoenix doesn't have a lot to do, but does a ton with his eyes. Even William Hurt, who usually bugs me to death, comes off just right; I loved the scene where he explains himself to the elders for allowing his daughter to do what she does.

And, Bryce Dallas Howard floored me. I don't know how long it'll be before I've forgotten her quiet exchange with Joaquin Phoenix, talking about when they'll dance together. Ivy Walker is blind, but gets around without trouble. She's resilient, warm and genuinely caring a person. Determined. You root for her relationship with Lucius. You feel for her safety during a confrontation with one of the "creatures", even though we already know what to expect. This is a complete, three-dimensional performance by a talented, extremely agreeable actress, and she deserves all the recognition in the world for her work here.

Does THE VILLAGE need a better finish? Of course it does. I could have easily done without Adrien Brody's last scene; it adds nothing. I'd also like to have it spelled out for me why red is the bad color, and why Lucius picks those holly berries.

Still.. haunting stuff.

A-list yawner, with Willem Dafoe and Robert Redford as kidnapper and nappee taking a stroll in the woods to hash over fathers and sons, and what we deserve in life and don't deserve.

The tricky narrative -- we jump forward to Redford's wife (Helen Mirren), after the face, left to wonder what on earth could've happened, and ponder their marriage, so that the kidnapping itself is always well under way -- is the only sign of life. Anyone who can explain to me how Dafoe's character is able to direct Mirren over the phone to the exact spot she needs to go with such precision gets a prize.

The new film from Lisa Cholodenko (HIGH ART) is slow and uninvolving. A woman (Kyra Sedgwick) returns to Georgia seeking custody of the two daughters she abandoned years ago. She left their abusive father (played by Aidan Quinn), now ailing, for a rock star (Kevin Bacon, thirty seconds worth), with whom she has another daughter. None of the kids like her. Sedgwick smokes a lot, and sits around looking despondent. There are lots of close-ups of her driving, and reflecting on the past, feeling sorry for herself. And, numerous shots of sunsets. But, Cholodenko never decides what to do with any of it. There's no real direction, here -- just a series of depressing moments, with no hope in sight.

What a friggin' drag.

The film features a quiet, observing performance by Laura Smet, as a young French woman dealing with a disease and the end of her life as she knows it.

Her boyfriend, Paul, may or may not be in love with her, and vice versa; her hospitalization only complicates the issue. He cares about her, up to a point (though, the fact that he smokes around her even when he knows the nature of her diagnosis comes off as more than a little disrespectful). She becomes increasingly more resentful, bitter and impossible, especially with the arrival of a cousin she hasn't seen if years.

EAGER BODIES is reminiscent of Lars Von Trier's BREAKING THE WAVES, both in look and with a girlfriend pushing her lover toward another. The cousin would seem to be a perfect match. But, there's the flaw: there's no real connection between these two individuals outside of basic sexual attraction and being drawn together by circumstance. I wish one of them had taken a second to acknowledge that fact, but since neither one does, at least _his_ top priority must be sex. And, so one could reasonably conclude that he doesn't truly love his dying girlfriend, so why should we care if he is happy after she's gone? Why should we care that she would care?

There's no investment in these characters, and the film is ultimately rather passive, even when it takes a turn for the violent. I also found a three way sex scene to be as unconvincing as it was unnecessary.

Still, Smet is good. I appreciate the subdued tone of the film, and the actors are attractive. Not bad for a winding down Sunday evening on the festival circuit.

Nick Cassavetes' THE NOTEBOOK opens with a beautiful widescreen shot of a sunset, while Aaron Zigman's piercingly lovely score serenades us. It's the kind of opening for movies I normally steer clear of -- sun-dappled, lovelorn trash-romance-novel esque Hollywood crap. But, I was surprised by how effective the movie is. In doses. And how just about perfect the central relationship is.

Allie and Noah meet at the local fair. He jumps onto the ferris wheel, and dangles precariously in front of her until she agrees to a date. The next day when he comes to collect, she denies him, of course, but in a flirty way. She may have some wrong-side-of-the-tracks notion about the guy because of her upbringing, but she can't help but love the attention.

What worked for me about this story is that these two people are in love, and they know it. It's real, they feel it, no pretensions. No waiting till it's too late to do anything about. And, sure, overall the film is sketchy and quite saccharine, with too many _moments_ (he teaches her to drive; they dance in the street). It also doesn't know where to end. But, it put a lump in my throat. The scenes between Ryan Gosling and an extremely fetching Rachel McAdams (from MEAN GIRLS), where it's just the two of them exploring what it's like to be in love at 17, are romantic as hell. Even if it is only a Summer thing, and parents are going to eventually intrude (Joan Allen is a caricature as the unapproving mother), the courtship leading up to their first time together is wonderfully done.

McAdams handles the scene where her character is about to lose her virginity especially well; "I wanted this to be perfect, and now I just can't shut up." Gosling is terrific throughout; soft-spoken and understated, where most actors would overplay. The second half of the film has a moment where Allie comes up on something in the home that Noah has completely remodeled ("like I promised") that stops her in her tracks. Anybody who hasn't already whipped out that trusty box of Kleenex may now do so.

The whole movie has a kind of a LIAR'S MOON feel to it, minus the incest and pregnancy. I didn't like the wrap around scenes as much, with James Garner reading from said notebook to Gena Rowlands. Whenever Gosling and McAdams aren't on screen, I wanted them back.

Still, for a film that lays on the sentiment thick, THE NOTEBOOK is a minor success. It comes the closest I think I've ever seen to capturing that intangible, mysterious feeling of being in love for the very first time.

Having watched the teaser trailer for Zach Braff's GARDEN STATE an embarassing number of times, I expected the worse. But, the film doesn't disappoint. It's weird, a little stilted at times, sure, but there's something to it.

Largeman (Braff) heads home after 9 years to attend his mother's funeral. Everybody recognizes him as that guy who played a retarded quarterback in that movie. He's been on prescription medication forever, and he's kind of a zombie when we first see him. But, along comes this girl to make him re-evaluate his life... yada yada.

The best thing about GARDEN STATE is it's direction. I like the way the images linger. The performances are effective, especially by Braff, whose character's slow snapping-out-of-it process is convincing, and Natalie Portman; their scene in the rain is a thing of beauty. Sweet relationship. I'm still not sure the last scene works; actually, I know it doesn't. We clearly understand, from the dialogue on the steps, what is said in the very next scene, without it having to be spelled out.

1. Garden State - the music, what else; I also want to find out what that guy is doing with a cigarette and bow and arrow..

2. Man on Fire (1st) - The Shield theme that opens it; the NIN song that closes it; Denzel laying out his plans for the bad guys; and, could Dakota say the name "Creasy" a few more times please!

3. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (1st) - a sheer what the f*ck is going on spirit! You know you're in for something either really, really special, or just plain not accessible at all. That song is on my iPod, obviously..

4. Van Helsing - special effects look great, especially Wolfman, and Frankenstein tossing the title character from way high up; also, Kate looks delish!

5. Walking Tall - the brief scene with Rock and Knoxville: "Where'd you learn that?".. "Cops".. "That's a good show" -- it plays differently (and much worse) in the actual movie, but the way Rock says his line in the trailer cracked me up something fierce..

Sexual politics in the workplace are nothing new to the movies. It can be terrific stomping ground for social satire. But, rarely have I seen it given a worse treatment than in Jean-Claude Brisseau's good-looking but shallow SECRET THINGS.

Two French hotties, Sandrine and Nathalie, are booted from the bar where they both work for refusing to have sex with a patron and defending that decision, respectively. Soon, they're moving in together and engaging in an endless series of sexual exploits themselves to prove they aren't like everyone else. If they can screw in public and get away with it, what _don't_ they have the nerve for? Both women are unemployed, and both have healthy sexual appetites. Why not use what they have to get what they want -- in this case, climb the corporate ladder? It's a logical step, I guess. But, then Sandrine seems perfectly competent in her new job without the sex stuff. Sure, all the men want her, and without having to so much as flash a smile their direction, she's on her way to being promoted. So, why the insistence on manipulating men, too? I mean, aside from the bar incident, have they been wronged in some way? What makes these women tick?

The film doesn't quite know, and it _has_ to. Otherwise, it's just sex scenes strung together in no discernible order for no apparent reason other than to be titillating on top of intellectual. Only, it isn't either, really. It's far too talky, for one thing, and it doesn't make a great deal of sense; someone please explain to me why there's a wedding in this film. If not for the occasional display of the female form in all its glory, SECRET THINGS would be unendurable. The overheated episodes between Sandrine and Nathalie (mostly the masturbatory variety) are energetic but redundant, and there's an EYES WIDE SHUT-esque orgy scene that comes out of left field, for no apparent reason other than two minutes have gone by without a sex scene. Then again, this movie hits narrative bankruptcy long before. And the ending, if you can stay awake long enough, is absurd.

SECRET THINGS is not nearly as brazen or interesting or complex as it thinks it is. I don't have the energy to hate it, nor would I waste it if I did. The projector stopped about three times throughout an interminable hour and fifty-minute running time; I wish it had stopped more.

Comedy deadzone, with Ben Stiller as a risk assessment analyst who, on his honeymoon, worries about precautions involved with scuba diving, but doesn't think twice about leaving a sexy new bride (Debra Messing) with the naked French hunk (Hank Azaria, absurdly rip) teaching it. There's irony in there somewhere. Marriage over. Along comes Polly (Jennifer Aniston, sexy but wasted on a confused role), a non-commital extrovert who shows him how to live a little by stabbing throw pillows to death. If only the leads had even a hint of chemistry, we might care about Stiller's whole caution to the wind, "gift of freedom" liberation thing. Or, whether he and Polly make it as a couple. No way do these two wind up together on a beach drinking mai-tai's after the restaurant incident -- not to mention her bathroom.

And, what's with Polly's Rachel-itis? Incompetent waitress and she finds a list categorizing her faults on a laptop (season 2, disc 2, episode 2.. which, by the way, is a lot funnier than this movie). Oy.

Ben Affleck as publicist Ollie Trinke, whose wife dies giving birth,

leaving him a daughter to raise on his own, without a clue how to. Added to which, Ollie makes a comment about Will Smith that gets him fired from the music busniess, maybe for good. The question is not

whether Ollie will get back on his feet career-wise, or even if he'll go back to his old life in Manhattan or stay in the his new one, working for the city, with dad Bart (a sly George Carlin), a potential girlfriend (bubbly Liv Tyler) and his now seven year-old (way cute Raquel Castro) with a predilection for violent musicals. Doesn't take a scientist, folks.

No, the only question at bar is whether or not gooey sentimentalism fits into the Askiew-naverse of one director/writer Kevin Smith (toned down Kevin Smith, if you will). It's a yes, and no. Not that JERSEY GIRL isn't profane; it has more permutations of the word sh*t than I've

ever heard in a non-R rated film. Smith yanks on the heart strings real hard, real often, and gets his tears; the scene where Ollie finally stops being a total prick to everyone around him, and has a tender conversation with his new tot about the kind of daddy he intends to be is kinda lovely. Without it, by the way, the film is dead, because in his earlier scenes Ollie comes off so full of inexplicable tension and pressure -- he's successful at what he does, not lacking in confidence, has a wife he loves dearly with a baby on the way... what's with the animosity, dude? -- he has a tendency to lash out at people who don't deserve it; the first hospital scene, case in point. You want to throw stuff at the screen.

Soon as Affleck smoothes into the role, as workingclass stiff, and strikes up a relationship with a clerk at the local video store, JERSEY GIRL finds its groove. Whenever Affleck's on screen with the luminous Tyler (she's got all the best dialogue) the movie shines.

Otherwise, this story is a complete inconsequence.

A comedy about two guys who work at a bowling alley in Bremerton, WA. Todd's girlfriend dumped him after five years to pursue an acting career; Oded only gets laid ever eighty-eight days, but dreams of a more active sex life. They decide to make a movie.

I saw this film at the Seattle Intl. Film Festival last year, and I knew going in there wasn't going to be a great deal of actual nudity, based on the title -- read: irony. But, none whatsoever?? The guys keep saying "it's not porn!" as though they're defending some greater artistic aspect of this movie they're struggling to get made, even though there is _some_ adult content. But, there's no adult content. None at all. They keep talking about nude scenes to film and scenes with lesbian sex, but, you guessed it -- never happens. So, all we have is two affable guys producing some low-budget flick we couldn't care less about.

NUDITY REQUIRED opens strongly, with some good CLERKS-esque dialogue. But, it runs out of steam, and is tedious for well over an hour.

I did like the men's casting sequence, with a girl named Joey (local cutie Whitney Leigh) all over them. But, it's not enough.

Does anyone know where I can find it, or download it? Jack Nietszche (sp?) composed the score, and I'm wondering why it isn't on the soundtrack. Any help is

great!

"A graffiti writer doesn't expect to get caught, like a cop never expects to get shot". That's one of many phrases to live by for a group of graffiti artists, or "bombers", in Brooklyn. BOMB THE SYSTEM, which I knew next to nothing about going in, is a heady, energetic film about a particular subculture. Can't say I really care all that much about how graffiti gets where it gets or those responsible, but I can't deny how well made the movie is. The hip-hop music, an old-school mix by El P (whoever), the editing style, the bleached out color palate -- every storytelling device at Director Adam Bhala Lough's disposal is perfectly suited, if just a tad overused, to the material. We're in good hands, here.

Blest (Mark Webber, hardly recognizable from the lifeless STORYTELLING) has bombed since he can remember. Since his brother died doing the same. Jacking spraypaint cans -- because a true artist never pays -- running from the law, leaving his mark on the sides of buildings and trucks, his sights set on the Brooklyn Bridge one of these days. He and his gang hang out, smoke pot, get drunk and appreciate "the colors, the blends and the smell of paint". These guys keep regular day jobs, the majority of them anyway, and do their thing at night, maintaining rivalries over territory with other gangs, searching for that one spot nobody has touched and that'll bring them a little slice of immortality.

Blest understands his scene. "If I'm gonna risk going to jail, it's gonna be for bombin' and nothing else," he explains to his girlfriend, a fellow writer named Alex (the cute as hell Jaclyn DeSantis). And, it's not like he doesn't have options in life: Alex offers an open invitation for Blest to join her and go cross country; his own crew is asking him to step up and take more initiative right where he is, and he has just been accepted to an art institute. Added to which, maybe he's ready to give it all up for good; "our pieces keep gettin' buffed as soon as we paint them". Graffiti is temporary. After a while, what's the point?

BOMB THE SYSTEM is kind of sketchy from a plot standpoint (it's got that beat of everyday life, so nothing really happens), and it has more of a political agenda than the desire to tell a story, per se. But, I love the philosophising in Lough's screenplay; his dialogue is very urban, profane and also quite literate. I love the way these guys talk to one another. A corrupt police officer tracking Blest and his gang's activity has a particularly objective way of thinking: he doesn't have a problem with prostitution but doesn't want to see them walking the street, either. Same deal with graffiti. If art is what you are doing, do it at home. Want the services of a hooker, call an 800 number and have one come to your home. Discretion is key. While that doesn't make the cop a fully realized character, it's nice to hear someone with an opinion express it clearly. Which is pretty much the case with this entire cast. Noone gets the proper developmental treatment, but at least they have ideas.

The movie doesn't have a beating heart beneath its shiny surface, but what a surface. I hope Lough learns the beauty of the sustained shot; he's too smart not to. SYSTEM is overly busy for its own visual good, at times. An inventive exercise in style. Tone poetry, if you will.

We've seen far too many movies about the dating scene to have to sit through pretentious crap like this. Another bunch of self-loathing interchangeable twenty-somethings "over analyze, obsess and freak out": no one is happy with his or her lot in life, so everybody has to sit around getting drunk and talking about how dissatisfied they are and how much relationships suck, until you're like -- please, GOD, put me out of their misery.

If nightlife in Seattle were really this dull, I would move.

We've seen way too many movies about the dating scene to put up with this pretentious load. Another bunch of self-loathing interchangeable twenty-somethings "over analyze, obsess and freak out". No one is happy with their lot in life, so everybody has to sit around getting drunk and talking about how dissatisfied they are and how much relationships suck, and you're like -- please, GOD, put me out of their misery.

If nightlife in Seattle were really this dull, I would move.

Worst films of 2003:

Bad Boys 2, Dominoes, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, House of 1,000 Corpses, Ken Park, Bad Guy, DARKNESS FALLS.

Maybe it's time to stop making horror movies.

.. 10 best. I'd rank it right around #7 (of course, the year is not over). I cannot stand Jim Carrey movies. This is a terrific movie, period. Very funny -- I challenge anyone to sit stone-faced when Bruce is manipulating his rival to say "I like-a do the cha cha" -- and the plot moves swiftly.

I found it thoroughly entertaining.

Wow.. I just watched this film last night, and couldn't believe how many story elements it lifted from that great Matt Damon flick: .. the hustler with dreams of getting to championship level.. the girlfriend who has seen him down on his luck, and doesn't know if

she can watch him go down that same road twice.. the scene where she finds his "gangster's roll" the morning after, and says, so instead of coming home to be with me you played your game .. the bet for a position in a law firm

I liked the scene where the one guy bets he can drink two pints faster than another guy can down two shots without touching each others' glasses. The lil' twist at the end, where he "buys" the last shot at the table, caught me by surprise.

** 1/2 at most. Energetic, but it rambles.