Immortals

Mickey Rourke vs. Gods & Humans
No Family Jewels are Safe
By Cole Smithey

Pitched to the public for its producer's association to the 2008 cartoon-cutout sword and sandal trash fest "300," this spectacle-driven tale of myth-based fantasy rightly earns its stripes thanks to a heavy-duty cast that includes the masterful John Hurt as a human-disguised Zeus and Mickey Rourke as an incredibly vicious King Hyperion.
Said producers have taken note of the many criticisms levied against “300” and made significant changes in response. Tarsem Singh ("The Cell") is a welcome replacement to hit-and-miss director Zach Snyder (hit with "Watchmen" and miss with "Sucker Punch"). Gone is the fetishistic adoration of the exposed male physique, which sent “300” into the realm of camp, in favor of truly breathtaking scenes of spectacle in the context of a story that actually holds together. Neptune splashes down to Earth, setting off an unforgettable tsunami which crashes against a cliff shoreline with gigantic, mind-boggling ferocity. It’s one of the first times in recent memory that such a scene excited me so much as an audience member that I was momentarily shaken out of my “critic” mindset.

Greek peasant warrior Theseus (Henry Cavill – “The Tudors”) is handpicked by the mortal incarnation of Zeus (John Hurt) to take up arms against King Hyperion (Rourke) who, with the help of his enormous army, is wiping out everything in his path in search of an all-empowering golden bow (forged in the heavens by the god Ares) that will destroy humanity. Theseus has a running start at battling King Hyperion considering he’s been mentored by Zeus. Still, Rourke’s ruthlessly sadistic King Hyperion is like a cross between British Petroleum, Bernie Madoff, Alan Greenspan, and Dick Cheney.

Only the long-lost magical Epirus Bow can release an army of gargantuan Titans imprisoned in a giant cubical cell buried in Mount Tartaros, where they wait to be brought back to life so they can take revenge against the gods who put them there. The catch is that the Gods of Olympus who defeated the Titans are sworn not to interfere with human matters even if it means allowing King Hyperion to obtain the powerful bow. As such, Henry Cavill’s Theseus carries the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Lush compositions of magnificent iconic imagery are captured by cinematographer Brendan Galvin (“Veronica Guerin”). Ominous foreboding skies cover every scene like something out of a painting by Bruegel the Elder. There’s a constant sense of mythic themes running at crosscurrents to the brutality onscreen. Some of this effect can be attributed to John Hurt’s uncanny ability to influence the narrative during his short but crucial scenes that bookend the story. The incredibly violent action that occurs includes numerous decapitations and scenes of erotic sensuality that temporarily alleviate the bone-crushing violence on hand. Myth genre movies have come a long way since the Ray Harryhausen-designed stop motion effects of “Jason and the Argonauts” (1963). “Immortals” is a big-screen popcorn movie to send off 2011 with a bang. You can taste the fury.

Rated R. 110 mins. (B) (Three Stars - out of five/no halves)

Killer Elite

Action Mediocrity
De Niro, Owen, and Statham Go Slumming
By Cole Smithey

An unhappy marriage of brawny big-screen talent with a nonsensical script, and a newbie director, make for a very mediocre action movie. Admittedly, there’s a certain thrill that comes from seeing Jason Statham rescue Robert De Niro from some Middle East baddies—both men locked and loaded for super-action. However, the knee-jerk series of assassinations committed by Statham’s former Navy SEAL Danny as an excuse for a plotline makes the film seem stale out of the box.

Danny’s former assassin partner Hunter (De Niro) has been kidnapped by an Omani sheikh who holds the aging killer hostage in exchange for Danny’s blood-letting skills. It’s the early ‘80s. The sheikh wants revenge against the men—a group of British Special Air Service members--who killed his sons. The sheikh demands videotaped proof of Danny’s kills. Never mind that video cameras in the ‘80s were the size of boomboxes.

Clive Owen adds his own over-qualified name to the script roster as former SAS soldier Spike. The main selling point of the movie is the chance to watch Statham and Owen go at it mano-y-mano for as long as possible without actually killing one another.

Danny speedily puts together a cracker-jack team to assist him in performing said executions. Needless to say, blood flows. Some explosive car-chase sequences rev up the tension even if the story goes limp under the weight of too many pyrotechnics. Part of the problem is that every character, including the film’s three lead actors, seems purely disposable. Based on Ranulph Fiennes’s pulp novel “The Feather Men,” “Killer Elite” (no relation to Sam Peckinpah’s 1975 film “The Killer Elite”) comes across as an instantly forgettable attempt at exploiting a scandal involving Britain’s covert participation in a “dirty war” in Oman in the ‘50s and ‘60s. To anyone who opens a newspaper on a regular basis, such “damning” information is just business-as-usual.

In a film where every character is a killer, there isn’t anything distinguishing one from another. The audience is supposed to feel something for Danny because he has a beautiful girlfriend holed up on a remote farm in Australia, but the hackneyed plot trope is about as stagnate as every other one in an action movie that lacks style and tone.

As fairly generic films like Statham’s “Transporter” franchise prove, a little bit of style goes a long way. Director Gary McKendry received an Oscar nomination for his short film “Everything in This Country Must,” but his readiness to helm a big-budget feature seems premature. The best thing you can say about “Killer Elite” is that it is a competent rendition of a less than skilled script by screenwriter Matt Sherring. There’s guilty pleasure in watching A-list actors like De Niro and Owen elevate B-grade material but guilt overtakes the pleasure. “Killer Elite” isn’t the first time great actors cashed in their talent for a paycheck, and it won’t be the last.

Rated R. 100 mins. (C) (Two Stars - out of five/no halves)

Cowboys & Aliens

"Raiders of the Lost Ark" meets "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" meets "The Wild Wild West" in a genre-blended clusterfuck created by six screenwriters who barely know an inciting incident from a crisis decision.

For as miscast as Daniel Craig is as old west criminal Jake Lonergan, his sinewy slight frame and intensely chiseled face makes for the movie's most interesting feature. Lonergan awakens in the desert to discover his left wrist outfitted with a strange cuff that later turns out to be a much more effective gun than the six-shooter he constantly carries with him.

Maudlin saturated flashbacks explain how Jake returned to his wife at their remote cabin with his share of the gold he and his men robbed from wherever. An alien attack extracts Jake, his gold, and his wife. Luckily for Jake he bumbles his hand into the cuff-gun that enables him to kill his alien captor and escape.

Harrison Ford gets one more shot at blockbuster cash as local capitalist pig Woodrow Dolarhyde. Woodrow's butthead son Percy (Paul Dano) likes to bully, extort, and humiliate town locals at every opportunity. Like many other locals, Percy gets carried off by the aliens who, as it turns out, have their own preoccupation with amassing gold from the area.

The movie bumps and grinds with hollow subplots regarding Jake's outlaw gang and Indian rituals that include reincarnation by fire. The story flows in fits and starts like a row of dominoes set too far apart for them to fall properly. "Cowboys and Aliens" is a poorly told story. Some of the spectacle is cool to look at, but the movie doesn't hold up.

Nearly all films are a combination of at least two or more genres. Every other reviewer's knee-jerk response at calling "Cowboys & Aliens" a "mash-up" [a bogus term that should be stricken from all usage] only serves to show those writers as ill-equipped at judging movies of any kind. FYI: it's an "action/adventure" movie. One thing is certain, this is a film that doesn't work, even on its own terms.

Rated PG-13. 118 mins. (C-) (Two Stars - out of five/no halves)

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2

Going Not So Gently Into That Good Night
Harry Potter and Company Close up Shop
By Cole Smithey

After the rambling first-half effort of the final Harry Potter installment, the filmmakers get down to business to give the franchise a generally rewarding send-off. Although many integral supporting characters from the previous seven films are given short shrift, and some seemingly key plot twists break rather than rotate, "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" strikes a resilient balance between emotion, story, and spectacle. Harry, Hermione, and Ron continue their search-and-destroy mission to smash the last "horcruxe" that will finish off Lord Voldemort once and for all. The trio exhibit considerably more focus than previously noted. Thrills come during a wild gyroscopic-designed rollercoaster journey deep into the subterranean bowels of the Gringotts wizard bank where gold bars and goblets multiply like a wild fire infection inside Bellatrix Lestrange's vault of riches. A gargantuan fire-breathing dragon provides some unexpected assistance for our three protagonists to escape onto the wistfully gray London streets above. The stuff of primordial fantasy doesn't get much more tastefully exotic.

Late character revelations deliver narrative surprises that relieve the ten-year series' overburdened accretions. Still, some crucial elements arrive too little too late. The promised romantic connection between Ron and Hermione, and between Harry and Ginny (Bonnie Wright), comes more as an afterthought than they do with any significant internal veracity. Here's how to reduce a "snog" to a blip.

For all of Harry Potter's years of study at Hogwarts, he still doesn't have much wizardly prowess to show for it. It's a good thing Hermione took her incantation studies seriously. She reigns supreme above her peers in the realm of wand wielding.

The final climax of more than 20 hours of story comes down to a blow-out battle at Hogwarts against an army of Death Eaters and Dementors. Dame Maggie Smith's Minerva McGonagall finally has her day. For a brief moment Smith steals the show. The special effects that follow, involving giant animated stone soldiers and some very impressive explosions, connect with their intended epic impact. The strategic design of Hogwarts architecture with its long wood bridge and lofty mountain-top placement allows for the audience's mind to bend and for their pupils to dilate at the stunning visuals.

Ciarán Hinds and John Hurt sink their teeth into their singular scenes as Aberforth Dumbledore and Ollivander, respectively. Their brief but weighty scenes contribute to the accumulation of magisterial British actors that have imbued the franchise with a massive scale of thespian nobility. Alan Rickman chews the scenery as the delightfully diabolical Severus Snape whose underlying character motivations provide for the story's most significant piece of hidden information. Rickman's payoff scene is the most rewarding moment of any in the entire series.

The filmmakers clearly made an enormous faux paux in splitting the final chapter into two parts. Considering how exasperating Part 1 was as compared to the dynamic Part 2, it makes you doubt the overall construction of both Rowling's source material and the films as a whole. I wouldn't want to have to sit through all of Part 1 of the Deathly Hallows just to get to Part 2. For that matter, I wouldn't want to watch the previous seven films again either. Still, I could watch "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2" again without compunction, so long as it wasn't the 3D version. Take from that what you will.

Rated PG-13. 131 mins. (B) (Three Stars - out of five/no halves)

Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides

Mermaids, Pirates, and Swords
Depp and Company Finally Get it Right
By Cole Smithey

Having dropped the dead-weight of Orlando Bloom and his guilty-by-association co-star Keira Knightley, the fourth installment of the "Pirates" franchise has finally discovered a way to be coherent. Gone too are the ghoulish zombies that mucked up much of the past "Pirates" films. Johnny Depp reprises his Captain Jack Sparrow role with a restrained polish that is a constant source of pleasure. The character has aged like a fine wine. When Depp's character-inspiration Keith Richards shows up in a featured cameo as Jack's old man Captain Teague, the audience gets a special treat. You could argue that Richards is just playing himself, but the fact is the man can act. The writers could have stood to slip Richards a few more scenes just for good measure.

As the director of sturdy movies like "Chicago" and "Memoirs of a Geisha," Rob Marshall is better suited than former helmer Gore Verbinski to carry off the adventure franchise's obligatory chase action set pieces and recurring sword fights. The first 15-minutes of the movie are set in 18th century London. The playful feeling is more akin to an "Indiana Jones" picture than the forced romance and creepy horror of Verbinski's overly busy kitchen sink efforts. 

We first see Captain Jack from the back. He's disguised as a British judge busy hearing a case against a man believed by the rest of the court to be himself. The curly blonde wig Jack wears with little granny glasses does little to hide his trademark eyeliner that makes him resemble punk lord Stiv Bators. Jack's planned escape from the courthouse lands him in the unexpected company of King George II (delightfully played by the ever reliable Richard Griffiths). The scenery chewing on display is especially enjoyable. Jack is rumored to have in his possession a map that points to the fabled fountain of youth. King George informs Jack there is a Jack Sparrow imposter roaming around London searching for men to run crew for an unknown expedition. Enter Jack's longtime rival Barbossa (Geoffrey Rush). Since we saw him last Barbossa has turned over a new leaf after losing a leg to work for King and country. Barbossa's peg-leg charge is to find the fountain of youth before the Spanish can beat the Brits, or any pirates, to the punch.

The serviceable Penélope Cruz plays Jack's former love interest Angelica. In the year's since Jack rescued her, Angelica has discovered Blackbeard (Ian McShane) to be her biological father--maybe. Cut to Angelica kidnapping Jack onto Blackbeard's ship so her old flame can lead them to the fountain of eternal life for the sake of her dying pirate papa.  

Rob Marshall maintains formal camera compositions throughout to keep the audience in the story. Every lush shot, whether at sea or in a thick jungle, is referenced in medium and wide vantages. There's a grand scale to every mesmerizing location. Although the director doesn't do near as much as he could with the film's 3D effects, there are a few welcomed moments where swords break the fourth wall. The big trick the film has up its salty sleeve are its mermaids. An integral part of the plot involves the necessity of a mermaid's tear in order for water from the fountain of youth to have the desired effect.

The rollicking tides the competing ships must cross are made "strange" by the presence of long-tailed mermaid sirens who are every bit as beautiful as they are treacherous. Their perfect teeth can transform into fangs at a moment's notice. The filmmakers do a nice job of maintaining the creatures' sensual topless allure with well-placed long hair that is a much costume as body part. Mermaids have never played such a significant role in an adventure film. Their exotic nature is contrasted with an element of horror that captures your imagination and toys with it as a cat would a mouse.  Astrid Berges-Frisbey steals scenes as Syrena, a mermaid captured for Blackbeard to extract a tear. A romantically inclined clergyman (Sam Claflin) falls especially hard for Syrena's unreliable charms. 

"Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides" is far from being a perfect adventure movie. Although Ian McShane does a lot with the little he's given, we don't get a sense of who his Blackbeard really is. Penélope Cruz barely fulfills the demands of her role whereas a more interesting actress could have added much more humor and mystery. This is Johnny Depp's movie. He has embraced Jack Sparrow as a kind of alter ego and built on his own legacy. Depp is clearly having fun. And so are we.

Rated PG-13. 137 mins. (B) (Three Stars - out of five/no halves)

The Mechanic

 

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Simon West (director of "Con Air" and "The General's Daughter") has been off the big screen radar long enough to properly contemplate the slick little cinematic take-over that is "The Mechanic." The film's generic poster of a handgun made up of roughly sketched weapons cleverly conceals an ingenious update on the time honored assassin-with-a-heart genre. The film is an update of Michael Winner's 1972 original, which starred Charles Bronson and Jan Michael Vincent. Jason Statham plays ace hit man Arthur Bishop. Arthur lives in a well appointed house on a remote New Orleans waterway when he isn't executing high paid hits for an oily corporate bigwig named Dean (Tony Goldwyn). Arthur isn't just good at what he does, he's a "machine." We know this from watching the way Arthur invisibly dispatches the film's first victim in a heavily guarded indoor swimming pool where he drowns the home's owner. In black scuba gear, Arthur animates the fresh corpse as if the man were still swimming so as not to attract attention to the dastardly deed he has just performed. The guards are watching but they don't suspect a thing.

It's a treat to see Donald Sutherland come into frame as Arthur's ally and former mentor Harry McKenna. Sutherland bites into his wheelchair-bound character like he's enjoying the best meal of his life. His vibrancy as an actor remains undiminished. A Rubik's cube plot scheme puts an onus on Arthur to extend some assistance to Harry's troublesome son Steve (played with fierce intensity by the always-invested Ben Foster). Steve is a temperamental brat but he has potential as a contract killer, with suitable guidance from Arthur. The trouble is that Steve doesn't always follow directions as closely as he should. Such inattention to detail leads Steve to the home of his first victim, a towering brute who weighs twice as much as the diminutive Steve. What follows is a vicious and yet humorous mano-y-mano fight scene. It's a pure thrill. As much as it seems that Steve bites off much more than he can chew, he's a tactical fighter who uses everything at his disposal. The knock-down-drag-out fight sequence is worth the film's price of admission alone.

With Arthur and Steve teamed up as tutor and pupil, the story takes an inevitable direction that proves to be still full of surprises. The filmmakers blend spectacle with vengeful intention like Van Gogh mixing colors. The stunt coordinators really make the stunt men work for their money. You want super-action? You've got it. When the action shifts to a high-rise building in Chicago, there's barely a moment to catch your breath.

Jason Statham got his start with Guy Ritchie's "Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels." It enabled Statham to maintain a fairly high level of quality action movies that includes Luc Besson's "Transporter" franchise. Time has been kind to the able-bodied action star whose chiseled physique carries the credibility of stunts that he clearly does himself.

"Victory loves preparation" is the inscription on Harry McKenna's polished steel handgun. It might sound like an obvious principle to build a hit man action movie around, but it works like a charm here. "The Mechanic" is a modern grindhouse picture that elevates the genre because it allows its characters to exert the logic of their flaws. Even an elite assassin like Arthur Bishop can make mistakes. And even a loose cannon screw-up like Steve McKenna can become an effective killer. Anything you do, don't underestimate "The Mechanic." This is one badass movie.

Rated R. 92 mins. (B+) (Four Stars - out of five/no halves)

January 24, 2011 in Action/Adventure | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Season of the Witch

 

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Caged Slurry
Period Adventure Horror Hoax
By Cole Smithey

This movie sucks so awfully you'd think it was a vicious prank. A mockery without humor, "Season of the Witch" is so blandly and artificially written that screenwriter Bragi F. Schut should never be allowed near a keyboard again. That's not to say that director Dominic Sena isn't equally culpable in this diabolical failure on every level of production, music and special effects.

Caricature actor Nicolas Cage plays Behman, an inarticulate 14th century Christian knight who gets fed up with killing women and children as a soldier fighting in the Crusades. The Roman Catholic Church has a proclivity for conducting witch trials that always end up with the same result. Behman and his equally smarmy war buddy Felson (Ron Perlman) go AWOL. On the run, in a plague infested village, the pair are arrested and forced to transport a nameless demonically-possessed girl across "dangerous" terrain. Their destination is an abbey where the erratic child will be "fairly" judged about her identity as a witch. An exorcism may be needed. The girl (ferociously played by Claire Foy) is blamed for unleashing the Black Plague which is killing thousands. Devil wolves and a shaky rope bridge provide about as much suspense as a Peanuts cartoon. Looking spookily like the Sex Pistol's drummer Paul Cook, Stephen Graham gives the film its only bright spot in his supporting role as Hagamar, a petty swindler who guides the group across a not-so daunting wilderness filled with dubious CGI effects.

There's an art to period acting. When you see an actor like Kenneth Branagh, Ian Mckellen or Cate Blanchett embody the life of a character from another time in history, you sense that they ate their breakfast that morning as that character. In "Season of the Witch" you feel like you're watching a beer commercial with no punchline. To be shown up by a supporting actor would be unforgivable to an actor like Al Pacino or the late Laurence Olivier. It says something about a loss of respect for the craft of acting that Perlman and Cage would even attempt to pawn off such unpolished performances, regardless of the content of the script or lack thereof. 

Nicolas Cage gave up creating characters, in any Stanislavski meaning of the practice, after baring his unvarnished soul in Mike Figgis's moving 1995 tragedy "Leaving Las Vegas." The performance won Cage an Oscar for Best Actor, and left him with no more artistic intentions than raking in big money to famously squander on mansions and fast cars. Shifting into a stylized all-purpose action movie star for disposable films like "The Rock" and "Con Air" took a toll that removed any attention to detail for an actor who once compared favorably with Sean Penn, Mickey Rourke, and Matt Dillon. Although he has since flirted briefly with unconventional roles in "Adaptation," "Matchstick Men," and "Lord of War," there's nothing in those performances to rival his unforgettable work in films like "Birdy" or "Moonstruck." 

Cage's singular foray into directing with his sadly overlooked film "Sonny" (2002) showed a promising glimpse inside Cage's mind as a filmmaker. Poor distribution doomed the film at the box office, and left a bad taste in his mouth for pursuing directing as a viable option for further artistic exploration. Currently, the best thing that can be said about Nicolas Cage as an actor is that his name has come to represent a sure signal of something to avoid.

It's a time-honored tradition that Hollywood dumps the movies it needs to unload during January and February. So it comes as no revelation to see the first week of 2011 squeeze out just one wide-release film. But this dog is a real yelper. You'll yawn, you'll look at your watch, and you'll be sorry you wasted your time and money.

Rated PG-13. 95 mins. (D-) (Zero Stars - out of five/no halves)

January 9, 2011 in Action/Adventure | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Red

All Climax and No Impact

2010 Shaping Up as the Year of the Abysmal Action Flick

By Cole Smithey

Here's another pound of proof supporting the theorem that "story is about thoroughness, not shortcuts." Director Robert Shwentke's adaptation of a DC Comics action/comedy graphic novel is nothing but a series of creaky narrative half-steps. The result leaves no cohesive story for an audience to invest in. Bruce Willis is a lonely retired CIA op named Frank Moses who strikes up a fluffy phone romance with Sarah Ross (Mary-Louise Parker) a young government clerk who Frank repeatedly calls to report his undelivered social security checks. Frank secretly tears them up as a excuse to keep calling Sarah. An assassination attempt against Frank alerts him that he and his fellow retired CIA hit-men pals, Joe (Morgan Freeman), Marvin (John Malkovich), and Victoria (Helen Mirren), are under attack by a black-ops kill squad as revenge for a falsified assassination attempt our old-school group supposedly committed many moons ago. Behind the kill order is CIA black widow Cynthia Wilkes (Rebecca Pidgeon) and her physically intimidating underling Will Cooper (Karl Urban). After kidnapping Sarah--for safety of course--Frank takes her on a cross-country road trip to roust Joe from a nursing home and meet up with trigger-fingers Marvin and Victoria who also know a thing or two about automatic assault weapons. Malkovich's Marvin is the loose screw of the group due to 11-years of daily LSD testing. Naturally, our team of elderly assassins need to break into CIA headquarters to extract top secret files that will exonerate them should they live that long. There's nothing distinctive or original about this puddle-jumping shoot 'em up action movie where even the razzle-dazzle is a snooze.

"RED," we learn, stands for "Retired, Extremely Dangerous." But if there's supposed to be some pithy social commentary--funny or otherwise--about the ability of old people to kill people, the moment never arrives. "Red" falls into this year's similarly small-minded action fare that includes "Killers," "The A-Team," "The Losers," and "Takers." What these films share in common, beyond their interchangeable titles, is a general disrespect for their audience.

Where an engaging exploitation action movie like "Machete" rattles across the screen with a knowing hum of its raw stylized form, "Red" steamrolls your senses into oblivion with a constant barrage of light-hearted violence. Perhaps it works if you've never seen big explosions on a big screen, or watched thousands of rounds of ammunition being fired at miraculously invisible human beings. If that's the case then you might find some degree of spectacle satisfaction. However, in the grand scheme of cinema, screenwriters Jon Hoeber and Erich Hoeber have turned in an incompetent script that's been bankrolled into a big budget disaster.
 
It's sad to see a talented cast of actors doing such an obvious pay-check job as "Red." You spend the movie trying to forgive the performers for allowing themselves to be so diminished by the flaky source material they cling to like a lifeboat. If there's a winner in this cinematic travesty it's Mary Louise Parker whose handling of her quirky role provides the audience with a character who's just as victimized as they are. Even viewed as a comic-book or cartoon film, "Red" fails in its nonexistent use of thematic values or character arcs. Oddly, this is a movie that's all climax and no impact.

 Rated PG-13. 110 mins. (D+) (One Star - out of five/no halves)

 

October 10, 2010 in Action/Adventure | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

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