http://blogcritics.org/ A sinister cabal of superior bloggers on music, books, film, popular culture, politics, and technology - updated continuously. en Copyright 2005-2007 by the authors Mon, 11 Jul 2005 11:03:45 EDT http://backend.userland.com/rss Blogcritics.org custom software http://blogcritics.org/ Phillip WinnSunday, August 26, 2007, marks the switch of all Blogcritics.org article feeds from full-content to short-content. This is the result of several converging factors, and is unfortunately a permanent decision (as permanent as any decision can be on the web, that is). We are aware of all of the reasons that this is a Bad Idea, and we are aware that some of you will be quite upset about having to click on something to read the free content, and we're sorry. Unfortunately, despite great effort, full-content feeds are not currently economically viable. Two other factors are involved: full-content feeds have resulted in an unprecedented level of content theft, with BC content appearing on many websites, usually spam sites, without attribution or permission. This duplicate content causes a cascading set of problems, not the least of which is that search engines generally aren't favorable to duplicate content, and don't always guess correctly. Finally, our RSS advertising partner is strongly in favor of short-content feeds. We hope that you'll continue to subscribe to BC via RSS, and when an article grabs your eye, it's only a click away, still free on the BC website. Thank you for your understanding. Administration0@blogcritics.org Sun, 26 Aug 2007 12:00:00 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/07/11/110345.php Chase McInerneyIn updating H.G. Wells' classic The War of the Worlds into modern-day America, Steven Spielberg and screenwriters David Koepp and Josh Friedman conjure up an alien invasion that reverberates with the horrific sights and sounds of 9/11.That isn't to say this latest War of the Worlds aspires to some sort of Big Message. No, this is Spielberg at his most commercial, a big, buttery, popcorn-fed creature packed with enough thrills to satisfy a Knievel family reunion. Even so, Wells' 1898 masterpiece of science fiction has always been remarkably malleable for exploiting the fears of generations. As a staunch socialist and critic of the British colonialism of his time, Wells challenged his country's zest for occupation by imagining that Britain itself endures a Martian reckoning day. In 1938, Orson Welles' infamous radio version seemed all too real in a world witnessing the beginnings of Hitler's quest for European domination. Fifteen years later, Hollywood revisited the Wells novel in the midst of Cold War anxiety.So it's only fitting that this War of the Worlds is thick with familiar imagery. In the wake of the movie's alien invasion, buildings come crashing to the ground while bridges snap like toothpicks. An airliner slams into a suburban neighborhood. As the death toll rises, clothes come wafting down from the heavens. Desperate families search for missing loved ones by plastering handbills along the sides of buildings. The survivors of the attacks stumble about in a daze, covered head to foot in a gray ashen soot.While that might sound a bit too close to reality -- particularly in light of another major terrorist strike -- Spielberg is less interested in parable than he is in purely whiz-bang filmmaking.Tom Cruise takes time out from pistol-whipping postpartum moms to star as Ray Ferrier, a divorced New Jersey dockworker who apparently went to the Spielberg school of problematic fathers. Ray's ex-wife drops off their kids, 10-year-old Rachel (Dakota Fanning) and teenaged Robbie (Justin Chatwin), for the weekend so that she and her current husband can travel to Boston, but Ray is hardly the prepared poppa. His kitchen boasts more car parts than it does food, and the immature Ray barely knows what to talk about to his distant children.Then the aliens arrive -- or, more accurately, they emerge. A freak electrical storm serves as a prelude to the invasion. The creatures pop up from the earth below, piloting long-buried fighting machines that stomp around on three legs and shoot death rays that vaporize victims within seconds (another chilling throwback to the World Trade Center tragedy). Shot for shot, the initial appearance of the itching-for-a-fight spacemen nearly rivals the intensity of Saving Private Ryan's storming of Omaha Beach.Throughout War of the Worlds, Spielberg revels in cinema's possibilities with the same zeal that D.W. Griffith must have relished transporting audiences to ancient Babylon in Intolerance. When the Ferriers flee Jersey in one of the few functioning SUVs, the camera whips around -- and then in and out of -- the vehicle in a dazzling single take. In one edge-of-the-seat scene, an alien probe checks out a dank basement where the Ferriers are hiding while Ray struggles with another survivor, a half-out-of-his-mind fella named Ogilvy (portrayed by Tim Robbins). In a jaw-dropping orchestration of F/X, seat-shaking sound effects and virtuoso camerawork, Spielberg keeps the narrative at a fever pitch. And he wisely makes sure that we see the alien takeover through the eyes of the Ferrier family, rarely moving his camera away from ground level.The guy has still got it. Video32374@blogcritics.org Mon, 11 Jul 2005 11:03:45 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/06/30/111220.php Chase McInerneyIf there is any justice in the box office, Batman Begins would be awash in moolah. Alas, while it appears to be doing well, its box office still appears to be below expectations (perhaps a real indication that the home entertainment phenomenon is having a significant and lasting impact on movie theaters).As excellent as Memento was, that marvel of indie filmmaking from 2000 hardly hinted at the big-budget confidence of director Christopher Nolan. Taking the helm for this prequel marking a return to the Batman franchise, Nolan presents what some might have thought unthinkable: a quasi-realistic, intelligent and provocative movie based on a comic book hero.Christian Bale stars as our brooding Caped Crusader, the son of a Gotham City philanthropist who was a child when he saw his parents gunned down by a mugger. The trauma spurs his personal odyssey to East Asia, where he apparently bums around the likes of Tibet, living as a petty thief until he falls under the guidance of a shadowy cult, the League of Shadows. It is there he learns to become something of a super vigilante, although Bruce bails once the group's leadership, portrayed by Liam Neeson and Ken Watanabe, start crazy talk about destroying Gotham City.So Bruce returns to his hometown after a seven-year absence. Drawing upon his education from the badasses of the League of Shadows, the heir to the Wayne fortune begins the painful creation of Batman, dedicated to cleaning up this city overrun by mobsters. During such scenes, the movie provides a kick of familiarity in the same way that the final 30 minutes of Revenge of the Sith tickled moviegoers. We are watching the birth of an icon, from the Batman costume (sans Joel Schumacher's plated nipples, thank God) to the Bat Cave to Batmobile. And best of all is that Nolan grounds his story in a veneer of realism.Batman Begins delivers plenty of bone-crunching action and some edge-of-the-seat sequences (particularly a chase involving the Batmobile), but screenwriters Nolan and David S. Goyer conspicuously avoid much of a body count. For all the darkness inherent in the Batman myth, the filmmakers are not afraid to examine timely questions of what separates vengeance from justice. Batman refuses to play executioner.Bale is terrific in the lead, an actor blessed with a tough action-hero presence but one who is also capable of acting. Katie Holmes is fine as Bruce Wayne's childhood pal-turned-honest assistant district attorney; the only downside to her performance is that she's a bit of a distraction in the wake of the TomKat media deluge. But the cast is uniformly top-notch, and cinephiles are sure to appreciate the litany of great character actors: Michael Caine, Gary Oldman, Morgan Freeman, Rutger Hauer, Cillian Murphy and Tom Wilkinson all get a chance to shine. Video31821@blogcritics.org Thu, 30 Jun 2005 11:12:20 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/06/14/122159.php Chase McInerneyIn the annals of big-budget Hollywood movies -- if, indeed, there are people retentive of such annals -- Mr. and Mrs. Smith is likely to be remembered chiefly for the tabloid coverage surrounding the alleged off-screen coupling of its on-screen couple, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. But leashing it beside such mangled mutts as Gigli and Proof of Life would be a bit unfair, for the movie, while far from a masterpiece, is no dog -- at least, not by the standards of what's shaping up to be a lackluster year at the movies.By now you undoubtedly know that Pitt and Jolie portray Joe and Jane Smith, clandestine assassins who work for competing (and nameless) agencies. The affluent, bored husband and wife have kept their lethal professions a secret from each other, but that changes when their paths cross over a job that both of them bungle. As a result, John and Jane are assigned to kill one another.Like the song says, it's a thin line between love and hate. Mr. and Mrs. Smith is at its cleverest when it riffs on the little secrets that whittle away at marital bliss. Perhaps the secrets harbored by the Smiths involve more of a body count than do those of most couples (we hope), but the resulting detachment and ennui isn't so alien. And so beneath the silliness is a parable of marriage that actually resonates.Well, it resonates some. Simon Kinberg's screenplay doesn't exactly break new ground exploring post-coitus rage. Pictures such as Prizzi's Honor and The War of the Roses boasted much more cutting satire, but Kinberg excels at witty double meanings. "I missed you today," John tells his wife at the dinner table. "I missed you, too," she responds wryly. Such moments help make up for Kinberg's weirdly stale depiction of domestic matrimony. With its post-work martinis, sniping over new drapes and the like, Mr. and Mrs. Smith 's dated take on suburbia is dangerously close to that of the God-awful Stepford Wives remake).When Mr. and Mrs. Smith does deliver the goods for summer popcorn entertainment, most of the credit goes to director Doug Liman. As he proved with Go and The Bourne Identity, Liman is among a handful of filmmakers today who can inject humor into action sequences without it seeming forced. Mr. and Mrs. Smith is hardly flawlessly paced -- it takes too long to get started and it overstays its welcome one shootout too many -- but there are some nifty set pieces, particularly the Smiths' no-holds-barred destruction of their stainless steel designer kitchen.As for the performers, let's just say that Pitt and Jolie have a real and tangible on-screen chemistry. Did they knock boots during shooting? My money is on: You bet your ass, they did. Acting, schmacting. Pitt is a fine actor when he feels like it, but here he doesn't have to do much more than sleepwalk.Jolie is slightly more impressive, and not just 'cause she has a few scenes decked out in a tight leather skirt and fishnets. The woman might be a loon and a half, but she gives a whole new definition to sexy. Video31014@blogcritics.org Tue, 14 Jun 2005 12:21:59 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/05/25/114000.php Chase McInerneyAnother batch of movies I've recently seen or re-seen (four stars the maximum ranking, which means zero stars are -- you guessed it -- is the lowest possible).American Pie (1999) What can you say? As directed by the talented Paul Weitz, American Pie is several notches above the typical teen sex comedy, but it's a teen sex comedy, nonetheless, which means it's subject to all the well-worn cliches, gross-out humor and facile characters that you'd expect. Four high school guys make a pact to get laid before graduation, a Holy Grail of a quest that leads to several truly funny bits, particularly the baked good of the title and an Internet-friendly tryst between the hapless Jim (Jason Biggs) and a sexy Czech foreign exchange student (Shannon Elizabeth). Considering how Weitz's successive comedies, particularly About a Boy and In Good Company, focused on surrogate father-son relationships, it's interesting to see the genesis of that theme in the genuinely affecting interaction between Jim and his well-meaning, but awkward, dad (portrayed by the inimitable Eugene Levy). ***The Battle of Algiers (1965) Events of current-day Middle East make this film as relevant as it was upon initial release. Shot in a pseudo-documentary style in stunning black and white, the film tells the story of the revolution that resulted in Algeria's independence from France. Although Italian director Gillo Pontecorvo squarely sides with the FLN, the Algerian terrorists (or freedom fighters, take your pick) behind that insurgency, the movie's unflinching depiction of civilian bombings and random murder feels decidedly ambivalent nowadays. Some 40 years after its initial release stirred up controversy and was subsequently embraced by such revolutionaries as the Black Panthers, Battle of Algiers doesn't come off as flagrantly biased as it must have seemed to the French government, which banned it (chew on that irony for a while). ***1/2Dirty Rotten Scoundrels (1988) A remake of a little-known 1963 comedy called Bedtime Story, this Michael Caine-Steve Martin farce follows the crosses and doublecrosses of two con men who specialize in duping rich women along the French Riviera. Director Frank Oz has made his share of subpar comedies, but Dirty Rotten Scoundrels is a cut above most. It lags a bit in the second act, but most of it is fun and provides room for Caine and Martin to indulge the shticks they do best. ***Donnie Darko (2001) Writer-director Richard Kelly did not lack ambition in this cult film of a disturbed teenager tormented by a guy in an evil bunny costume. With its kitchen-sink storyline involving time travel, schizophrenia and alienated youth, Donnie Darko knocked me out when I first saw it. Alas, its considerable failings become more and more apparent with repeated viewings. Despite some memorably lyrical moments chronicling the descent of our hero (Jake Gyllenhaal), the plot is essentially barely coherent gibberish. Much of the dialogue is cringingly bad, the satire lacks bite (the adults are dumb and fake) and Kelly doesn't do his movie any favors devoting screen time to some awful, and extraneous, supporting performances, such as that of Darko executive producer Drew Barrymore. It is a shame, too, because when the film is most resonant -- as in scenes propelled by music from Tears for Fears, the Church and the like -- Donnie Darko is as weirdly seductive as teen angst. **1/2The Entertainer (1960) Another early-Sixties British study in dour, working-class realism. Tony Richardson directed the film, in which Laurence Olivier recreated his famed stage role as third-rate vaudevillian Archie Rice. Not surprisingly, his performance is impeccable, and Joan Plowright is almost as good as Archie's long-suffering daughter (Olivier and Plowright married a year after shooting the film). But the talky script and unrelenting gloominess starts to suffocate the proceedings. It doesn't take long to realize Archie is an unrepentant screw-up and will continue to screw-up until the final credits roll. ***The General (1927) Certainly the most revered of Buster Keaton 's works, this classic -- equal parts adventure, romance and comedy -- is based on an actual train hijacking during the Civil War. Beautifully shot, surprisingly lyrical in parts and boasting some terrific stunts, The General is still a film easier to admire than appreciate. ***The Incredibles (2004) A nearly perfect Pixar product that comes courtesy writer-director Brad Bird, whose The Iron Giant in 1999 hinted at his sizable talent. The Incredibles reaches the Spielberg standard of excellence when it comes to straightforward, crowd-pleasing storytelling -- but that doesn't mean it skimps on sophistication or subtlety. In its tale of a family of superheroes struggling to be average, Bird parodies family dynamics, a litigious society, the complexities of hero worship, male midlife crisis and the narcisstic certainty of just knowing we could touch the stratosphere if our peers weren't weighing us down. There are some interesting insights to be found amid the jaw-dropping computer animation. ****The King of Comedy (1983) A blistering satire from Martin Scorsese still has every bit as much bite as it did when it opened (to criminally lukewarm box office) 22 years ago. Robert DeNiro stars as pathological fame-seeker Rupert Pupkin, whose idolatry of a late-night TV talk-show host (Jerry Lewis in a superb performance) leads to kidnapping. The film is one of Scorsese's best, and underrated, works. Not only does it skewer America's zeal for achieving celebrity without really doing anything to deserve it -- a jab more relevant in today's Reality-TV era than it was back in the '80s -- but it is also an exceedingly well-told story, expertly paced and peppered with the director's visual flair. ****Mr. Death: The Rise and Fall of Fred A. Leuchter, Jr. (1999) Fred Leuchter was a death geek, a self-styled expert on the implements of capital punishment. Documentary maker Errol Morris chronicles how the Massachusetts native became involved (perhaps unwittingly) with a group of Holocaust revisionists who hired Leuchter to go traipsing through the ruins of Auschwitz in hopes of confirming their insistence that there were no Nazi gas chambers. Morris paints Leuchter as a naive dupe; regardless, the man is too pompous and pathetic to elicit much sympathy. Subsequently, Morris' film is well made, but ultimately empty. You're not exactly sure what Morris found so compelling about this jackass of a subject. ***The Philadelphia Story (1940) I had forgotten what a wonderful movie this is, a true classic that -- aside from a few archaic social mores smacking of racism and misogyny (wife-beating must have been a funny concept for 1940 audiences) -- feels surprisingly contemporary. Its story of high society (and high maintenance) divorcee Tracy Lord and the men who love (and are frustrated by) her provides star turns from Katherine Hepburn, James Stewart and Cary Grant. The generally overlooked Ruth Hussey, incidentally, is excellent in the less-showy role as Stewart's work colleague/would-be love interest. Director George Cukor deserves great credit for maintaining a fast clip with a very talky and stagy script; it was initially a Broadway show, after all. But the dialogue of screenwriter David Ogden Stewart is (pardon the fey description) exquisite. ****The Royal Tenenbaums (2001) The best film to date from Wes Anderson is, loosely, about a cad of a husband and father who attempts to win back his brilliant, but dysfunctional, family. Like Anderson's other films, however, plot is of little consequence. He's more interested in quirkiness, weird detail and a strange brand of humanism. It works, for the most part, and it helps to have an outstanding cast with Gene Hackman a particular standout as the deceitful, no good patriarch, Royal Tenenbaum; Gwyneth Paltrow and Owen Wilson, who co-wrote the script with Anderson, are also damn good. There isn't really a great deal that actually goes on in Royal Tenenbaums, but its eccentricities, off-kilter pacing, twee soundtrack and hermetically sealed fantasy vision of New York all combine to make it (for me, anyway) irresistibly life-affirming. ***1/2You Can't Cheat an Honest Man (1939) When it comes to the great movie comedians from the Golden Age of Hollywood, few can rival the great W.C. Fields. And while You Can't Cheat an Honest Man is sub-par by Fields' standards -- he doesn't get nearly enough screen time, being the main problem -- it's enjoyable enough. The bulk of the movie served as a vehicle for Edgar Bergen and his favorite dummy, Charlie McCarthy. **1/2 Video30119@blogcritics.org Wed, 25 May 2005 11:40:00 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/05/18/121037.php Chase McInerneyWay too much thought and analysis will no doubt swirl around Episode III -- Revenge of the Sith, the last installment in the epochal Star Wars series, but it will be particularly interesting to see what Jedi mind tricks emerge from its unmistakable political undertones. Unlike 2002's disappointing Attack of the Clones, the politics in Revenge arrive amid plenty of lightsaber-fueled action.Some politicos will surely be intrigued by George Lucas' veiled critique of the Bush administration. When Anakin Skywalker (Hayden Christensen) is on the cusp of spiraling off into the dark side of the Force, he tells his one-time mentor, Obi-Wan Kenobi (Ewan McGregor) that "if you are not with me, then you're my enemy." It rings familiar for a reason; you can almost literally hear the echoes of Dubya's infamous warning to the countries of the world that "either you are with us or you're with the terrorists." Anakin's words enrage Obi-Kan, who sputters that "only a Sith deals in absolutes!" (Who would have guessed that the Force embraced relativism and situational ethics?)Demagoguery, albeit the kind gussied up in the wardrobe of patriotism, receives a rebuke later on by Anakin's wife, Senator Padme Amidala (Natalie Portman). As Chancellor Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid) addresses the Senate with a fire-and-brimstone speech, Padme -- in a moment of typically George Lucas non-subtlety -- remarks "this is how liberties die -- with thunderous applause." The inference seems obvious.At last, a space opera that Michael Moore could love.No, I'm not going through some sort of grad school delusion about the picture's subtext. The political currents in Revenge of the Sith were even all the buzz at the Cannes Film Festival, and have been acknowledged by Lucas himself.Still, politics is hardly center stage in Revenge (thank the Force). The crux of the film, frankly, is s a mixed bag, in spite of all the critics who have been wetting themselves coming up with superlatives for Lucas' swan song.I don't share the awe.At least, not until the final 45 minutes, when Lucas barrels toward the fates of he main characters and sets the stage for what was, or will be (the pitfalls of writing about prequels), 1977's Star Wars: Episode IV -- A New Hope.Until that delirious and affecting third act, however, Lucas' direction remains as scattershot as it was in The Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones. Despite jaw-dropping CGI effects and a bounty of battle scenes, the pacing is weirdly choppy. Things come to a screeching halt whenever Lucas turns his attentions to the troubled home life of Anakin -- who feels dissed by the Jedi Council -- and his pregnant bride. Christensen isn't as teeth-gnashingly irritating as he was in Attack of the Clones, but he is still woefully lacking. It's not entirely his fault; Christensen has a daunting task, to say the least, portraying one of the most iconic characters in the history of cinema. And Portman, aside from being beautiful, is just ... just ... awful. (That said, McDiarmid truly shines as the chancellor; his seduction of Anakin to the dark side is appropriately slimy).Moreover, Lucas doesn't do them any favors with dialogue that could charitably be called awkward. OK, so dialogue has never been the guy's specialty, but even by his standards, there is an inordinate number of clunkers here.Ah, but that magical third act delivers on Star Wars' enduring mythology. There's no real suspense, of course; that much is a given in a prequel. But by virtue of knowing what will happen, the proceedings take on a tragic and fatalistic air. Yoda (voiced by Frank Oz) is forced (or is it Forced?) into exile. Luke and Leia are born, while the would-be proud poppa makes the transformation to Darth Vader.It is a change, by the way, more heartbreaking than it is fearsome. Video29693@blogcritics.org Wed, 18 May 2005 12:10:37 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/05/04/101055.php Chase McInerneyIn some ways, Downfall is more of a historical document than it is a movie. A painstakingly authentic dramatization of Adolf Hitler's final days in his underground Berlin bunker during April of 1945, this German-language film has its share of flaws. It meanders occasionally and could have withstood a bit more discipline in the editing process, clocking in at nearly three hours. And it is almost too ambitious for its own good, offering a panoply of characters whom director Oliver Hirschbiegel juggles with varying degrees of success.And yet, Downfall is an often amazing, always powerful film.The movie has drawn criticism in its native Germany for its allegedly sympathetic portrait of some Nazis. I'm not certain what Nazis those critics are referring to -- certainly not Dr. Joseph Goebbels' true-believer wife, Magda (Corinna Harfouch), who poisons her six children rather than risk them growing up in a post-Nazi world.At any rate, I think there's a sizable difference between a sympathetic approach and one that simply humanizes its subjects. Part of what makes Downfall exceptional is its determination to add flesh and blood to these monsters of history. And besides, Bruno Ganz's mesmerizing portrayal of Hitler isn't likely to elicit much sympathy from German movie audience, especially his enraged pronouncements to his generals that the German citizenry deserved to be killed because they'd proven themselves to be so weak.Besides, it seems to me that it is far more unsettling to examine the human side of the psychotic, to observe the recognizable strains of humanity that mask evil. From Ted Bundy to Timothy McVeigh, history is filled with examples of the easy-going, charming -- even likeable -- mass murderer. Those are the truly scary. Less fearsome is the slobbering, wild-eyed madman on the street corner; you already know to steer clear of that guy.And on the topic of war movies ...The documentary Gunner Palace presents a decidedly ambivalent view of the American occupation in Iraq. Husband-wife documentary makers Michael Tucker and Petra Epperlein might not have meant so much moral ambiguity, as a good number of the U.S. soldiers spotlighted in the film come off as, well, young, cocky and mean-spirited.Most don't, of course, and even the more insufferable troops followed in the documentary are easy to empathize with, being stuck in a country where every unaccounted-for item on the side of the road can spell their demise.In the long run, that ambivalence just might be what makes Gunner Palace a more illuminating view of the Iraq War than, say, a polemic like Fahrenheit 9/11. Despite some sloppy narrative techniques in Palace, particularly an annoyingly melodramatic voiceover by Tucker, the movie effectively presents the warts-and-all hell of war. Video29022@blogcritics.org Wed, 4 May 2005 10:10:55 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/04/20/094619.php Chase McInerneyMelinda and Melinda is not exactly a return to form for Woody Allen, but at least it doesn't elicit cringing, which is a good sign -- and a change of pace from his most recent batch of dogs. Moreover its meditations on the nature of life and the creative process mark a return to the sort of stimulating brain teases that Allen offered in such great works of his as The Purple Rose of Cairo, Zelig and Stardust Memories.The movie opens with two playwrights (Wallace Shawn and Larry Pine) at a Manhattan restaurant arguing about whether life is chiefly tragedy or comedy. By way of illustrating their respective viewpoints, the pair offer up conflicting scenarios that spin from a single episode (or an inciting incident, as Robert McKee might call it): a woman named Melinda crashes in on an insufferably affected dinner party.In the "tragic" story, Melinda is a chain-smoking neurotic who makes poor choices in men and finds herself ensnared in a web of affairs involving her friend Laurel (Chloe Sevigny), and jazz pianist Ellis (Chiwetel Ejiofor). The Melinda of the "comic" story finds our female lead as a sunny ingenue who is pursued by a married out-of-work actor, Hobie (Will Ferrell.)As Allen has done for nearly two decades, he plunders his earlier, and better, works for jokes and situations. Hobie complains to his wife that they hardly ever make love anymore, and his Woodyesque gestures and stammering harkens back to almost identical scenes from Annie Hall and a handful of other Allen films. Hobie's wife, an indie filmmaker (Amanda Peet) , is at work on something she calls The Castrating Sonata, a warmed-over reference to The Castrating Zionist, a fictitious memoir scribed by the protagonist of Manhattan.And of course, the characters are composites from the Woody Allen gene pool: loquacious, self-absorbed, neurotic, implausibly sophisticated folks who are surprisingly cavalier about marital infidelity (particularly important in the make-believe world of the man who ran off with his stepdaughter).In that stifling milieu, however, you have to offer kudos to any actor with the gumption to elbow breathing room for himself or herself. Radha Mitchell is very impressive in her dual Melinda performance, particularly in the comic tale. The gold star, however, goes to Ferrell, whose knack for physical comedy helps lift his Hobie beyond the Woodyisms that hobbled other actors (most notably Kenneth Branagh in the abysmal Celebrity).Melinda and Melinda hints at the ambitious and clever Woody Allen his fans know and wish were still making movies. But ambitious and clever alone don't keep an audience invested -- not with a tragedy that isn't very tragic and a comedy that isn't very funny. Video28417@blogcritics.org Wed, 20 Apr 2005 09:46:19 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/04/13/124852.php Chase McInerneyThe Upside of Anger is a change of pace for Joan Allen, a gifted actress whose previous works -- notably The Ice Storm, The Contender and Nixon -- consisted of portraying repressed, emotionally remote characters. By contrast, Anger's Terry Ann Wolfmeyer is anything but demure. After her husband apparently skips off to Europe to shack up with a Swedish secretary, Terry finds herself pissed at the world and balancing an SUV-sized chip on her shoulder. And it leaves this affluent Michigan housewife at home alone to cope with four beautiful daughters, with whom she fights over everything from their chosen careers to chosen boyfriends.Let's say this upfront: Joan Allen's work as the vodka-swilling, acid-tongued Terry is worth the price of admission all by itself. Her performance is a wonder of controlled, sardonic ferocity.And she ain't alone. Kevin Costner is almost as impressive as Terry's neighbor Denny Davies, a scraggly, no-account ex-baseball star (what else?) for the Detroit Tigers. Both Terry and Denny are drawn together by loneliness and their affinity for boozing, and it doesn't take long before the retired pitcher is hanging around the uptight, if comfortable, Wolfmeyer household.Unfortunately, things sag from there on.Writer-director Mike Binder apparently used up most of his creative juices imagining the two middle-aged lovers at the movie's core. Although he has given himself a scene-stealing role as Denny's sleazebag radio producer, Binder is far less generous to the other actors. The Wolfmeyer daughters (Alicia Witt, Keri Russell, Erika Christensen and Evan Rachel Wood), who range in age from their mid-teens to early-20s, seem especially stranded by sketchy characterization. They are cardboard cutouts devised solely for the purpose of instigating familial conflict; we have the dancer who doesn't eat, the pretty one who doesn't want to go to college and so on. Only Wood, who was so impressive in Thirteen, manages to find shades of depth as the youngest daughter.Despite a handful of funny scenes and a lot of arguments -- and always in public settings with plenty of onlookers (a particular peeve of mine in movies) -- not much actually happens in Upside of Anger. Binder, whose chief contribution to our popular culture until now was HBO's The Mind of the Married Man series, is saddled by his own ambitions. The moves opens with the principal characters gathered at a funeral before we shuttle back in time three years to begin the story proper. It's a nifty narrative device -- whose funeral is it? -- but Binder keeps scratching this gimmick until it starts to bleed. He toys with his audience to second-guess which character was in that opening-scene coffin, offering us such possible suspects as a suddenly ill Wolfmeyer daughter and a peripheral character obsessed with bungee jumping. You half-expect Hercule Poirot to pop up from behind a sofa and reveal the corpse before the ending credits roll.And speaking of the ending -- don't worry, I'm not revealing more -- suffice it to say that it's a full-blown annoyance. The ostensible twist does boast dramatic potential, but Binder has cheated mightily in order to get us there. In the world Denny might refer to, you could say that Binder corked the bat for what turns out to be nothing more than an infield grounder. Video28118@blogcritics.org Wed, 13 Apr 2005 12:48:52 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/04/13/002357.php Chase McInerney At first blush, a romantic comedy might seem a bit of a stretch for Peter and Bobby Farrelly, the brothers who whipped up hair gel in There's Something About Mary and bull-milking in Kingpin, but even their grossest gross-out comedies have been romances at heart.Fever Pitch purports to be a love triangle between a workaholic businesswoman (Drew Barrymore, cute and sunny as ever), a fanatical Boston Red Sox fan (Jimmy Fallon) and the Bosox during its magical 2004 season. But the movie is more inclusive than a mere valentine to baseball. Loosely based on the Nick Hornby memoir, Fever Pitch essentially has fun with examining the art of compromise in relationships. Oh, it maintains a light touch, all right, but nevertheless it does touch upon real issues dealing with self-identity and juggling passions ... and all that other crap.And so Fever Pitch, for all its endearing silliness about Red Sox Nation, reveals sincerity and even a bit of wisdom (this from the pair who made Dumb and Dumber). But the movie does commit one glaring error (surely you didn't think I'd get through this without at least one baseball analogy). Jimmy Fallon is milquetoast. He doesn't embarrass himself, but the guy has no real presence.I never thought I'd say this, but where's Adam Sandler when you need him? Video28101@blogcritics.org Wed, 13 Apr 2005 00:23:57 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/04/12/081527.php Chase McInerneySahara is a big, dumb, improbable, kid-friendly adventure yarn. And much like last summer's big, dumb, improbable, kid-friendly adventure yarn, National Treasure, it is decent popcorn entertainment, provided you're willing to temporarily put aside all ability to reason, ponder and use opposable thumbs.In this adaptation of a Clive Cussler novel starring his hero Dirk Pitt, director Breck Eisner (son of Disney's Michael Eisner -- ahhh, the joys of being the child of a movie mogul) does little more than string together a bunch of preposterous chases, close calls and explosions, several of which are slightly remodified versions of scenes from the Raiders of the Lost Ark trilogy. During the Golden Age of Hollywood, this sort of stuff would be labeled derring-do. Maybe it still is. Eisner's direction is hackneyed, and the editing is far too jumbled to really follow much of the action, but the goofiness of it all is, grudgingly, pretty damn fun.Sahara's biggest drawback, aside from it being utterly ridiculous (and since that's part of the good time, who can really call that a drawback?) is a cast in desperate need of a collective bitch slap.The inexplicably famous Matthew McConaughey, who stars as our hero, looks and acts as if he'd be more comfortable spring breaking it at Padre Island than racing through desert sands. As the beautiful and brainy love interest, Penelope Cruz offers line readings slightly more proficiently than that of a trained seal.And as the trusty sidekick, Steve Zahn plays Steve Zahn, which is to say he is engaging enough in that smartassed sidekick sort of way, until you realize about two-thirds of the way through that the filmmakers have no intention of killing this guy off. Video28052@blogcritics.org Tue, 12 Apr 2005 08:15:27 EDT