ASHES OF TIME
D: Wong Kar Wei; with Leslie Cheung, Bridget Lin, Tony Leung Kar Fei, Maggie Cheung, Carina Lau, Tony Leung Chu Wai, Jacky Cheung.Easily the most ambitious picture of last year, this epic, action melodrama from director Wong Kar Wei (The Days of Being Wild) is so structurally complex in its unfolding of plot and characters, not to mention so ruthlessly revolutionary in its destruction of typical narrative techniques, that films like Pulp Fiction look like simple A-Z storytelling by comparison. Based on a classic Chinese novel, the plot follows hired assassin Leslie Cheung (A Chinese Ghost Story) and the unusual characters that cross his path: A wandering friend suffering from amnesia, a visually impaired swordsman, a kind-hearted warrior turned hired-killer, and a curiously asexual stranger with a split personality (appropriately named “Yin” and “Yang”) all visit Cheung at one time or another, and as the movie progresses, their web-like connection to one another is slowly revealed. The story itself really isn’t all that complicated, but is told in such a fractured style that subtle details and character relationships aren’t at all clear until the gloriously anticlimactic finale, and, even then, it may take multiple viewings to get the whole thing straight. The all-star cast is absolutely tremendous (with the possible exception of pop singer-cum-actor Jackie Cheung), with all of them delivering solid, textured work. Tony Leung Chu Wai’s blind swordsman and Bridget Lin’s lovelorn schizophrenic are particularly worthy of mention. Other pluses include the fine electronic music score, Samo Hung’s energetic fight choreography (deliriously photographed in a variety of slow-motion and step-framing techniques), and last, but not least, the astonishingly rich and inventive cinematography by Christopher Doyle, whose expert realization of Wong Kar Wei’s imagery earned the award for best cinematography at last year’s Venice film festival. As I said before, Ashes of Time is a film designed for multiple viewings, and therefore, may not be everyone’s cup of tea. (A fellow viewer dubbed it, with deliciously overblown hyperbole, “the most inaccessible movie ever made!”) But Wong Kar Wei’s film is definitely one of the most challenging to come along in quite some time – reason enough to give this wildly ambitious picture a look, or two, or three… or until you think you’ve got it.
4.0 stars (J.O.)
Hogg
New Review
SEARCH AND DESTROY
D: David Salle; with Griffin Dunne, Dennis Hopper, Christopher Walken, John Turturro, Illeana Douglas, Ethan Hawke, Rosanna Arquette, Martin Scorsese.These days, the newest rage seems to be for established visual artists to enter the ranks of film directing. Robert Longo recently released his debut feature Johnny Mnemonic and it’s reported that Julian Schnabel is currently working on a film project about his deceased colleague Jean-Michel Basquiat. Search and Destroy represents hyperrealist painter David Salle’s first foray into filmmaking, following an art career shaped by drastic swings between public lionization and critical opprobrium. It is unlikely that Search and Destroy will engender much heartfelt reaction from either end of the spectrum. The movie is an offbeat black comedy with edgy noir eruptions that, despite many wonderful bits and pieces of dialogue, staging, and performances, never fully coalesce into a unified whole. Salle’s foremost achievement with this project may be the impressive assemblage of creative talent he managed to gather together. Search and Destroy originally came to life in the early Nineties as an off-Broadway play by Howard Korder. The play was adapted for the screen by the under-appreciated filmmaker Michael Almereyda (Twister, Nadja). Salle’s art-collector pal Dennis Hopper signed on for the film project and Martin Scorsese, who reportedly saw the film as something of a cousin to his own After Hours, came aboard as executive producer. Griffin Dunne, who essayed the story’s lead character of Martin Mirkheim in the off-Broadway run (and also starred in After Hours), recreated the character for the screen. Mirkheim is a failed-but-always-trying entrepreneur and a wannabe film producer. Martin has sundered so many enterprises that even the IRS is having trouble keeping account of his failures. His new dream is to produce a movie based on an uplifting adventure novel by late-night TV self-help guru, Dr. Luther Waxling (Hopper, in a brilliant embodiment of a self-serving huckster). When Martin’s lack of cash proves a turn-off to the good doctor, Martin turns for help to Waxling’s assistant Marie (Douglas), who aspires to sell her unproduced horror screenplay about a “spine sucker” that looks like “a gangrene penis with a lobster claw” and a heroine who is “a fully realized, multi-dimensional character with huge breasts.” Martin and Marie go to New York to get some fast cash through the contacts of a business acquaintance played by Walken. Walken here creates another one of his creepy characterizations of a dangerously borderline personality who, in turn, introduces Martin to an even wonkier character played by John Turturro. Two scenes between Walken, Turturro, and Dunne – one staged in a tailor’s fitting room with a three-way mirror and the other on an in-home squash court – are so outrageously performed and shot, that they, by themselves, make the entire movie worthwhile and probably come the closest to manifesting Salle’s visual style on film. Watching Walken and Turturro each trying to out-crazy the other is an oddsmakers’ bout between two well-matched loons. Actually, all the film’s performances are finely etched and enjoyable to watch. The story’s dark center about the nature of business as the provider of hope for the hopeless is sardonically witty and sharp. But the movie’s constant shifts in tone and undeveloped angles prove frustrating. Search and Destroy doesn’t zero in on its target so much as it camouflages the perimeter.
3.0 stars (M.B.)
Village
First Run
BRAVEHEART
D: Mel Gibson; with Gibson, Sophie Marceau, Patrick McGoohan, Catherine McCormack, Angus McFadyen, Brenden Gleeson.In the late 13th century, after England, under Edward I, extended its rule over Scotland, William Wallace helped lead the charge for Scottish independence. There is a real history of Wallace, though not much is reliably known. Wallace was obsessed with liberty and freedom and, as was extremely rare then, incorruptible; he couldn’t be bought with land or money. There is a historical person. Then there is this splendid, rousing adventure by Mel Gibson, a deliberate heroic myth-making tale that combines history with fantasy. Gibson, who starred, produced, and directed, audaciously presents this as a classic adventure, without apology, telling the tale of a Scotland suppressed by King Edward I (McGoohan), of William Wallace (Gibson), a commoner who wanted nothing to do with the cause, of his falling in love, of tragic turns that forced him to take up arms in a war for freedom and liberty. Although it presents complex political relationships, these are mostly entanglements designed to complicate and enhance the plot rather than pose real ideological or historical relationships. Gibson plays fast and free with history, but Braveheart is a film of romance, of legend, of possibility, and of freedom. Deftly, Gibson directs this epic along; with most of the story racing to reach the screen, the almost three-hour film rarely drags until just before the end, and even then, redeems itself. No revisionist history here, and few dark undercurrents, war is made to look brutal and fruitless, and at the same time heroic. Wallace begins by leading a small band of rebels and is soon at the head of a large army fighting several battles destined to become famous. This is a movie of warfare, of smoke, of blood, and of fire. Action directing is unusually difficult; it requires enormous imagination to be able to cinematically convey a battle – part of the genius of Stanley Kubrick’s Spartacus is that the battle scenes are so coherent. We know where each side is, we know how and when they are crashing. Although Gibson occasionally overuses slow motion, the whole film is beautiful (shot by Legends of the Fall cinematographer John Toll), and the battle scenes are splendid. Lacking Kevin Costner-liberal-revisionist tendencies or Spartacus screenwriter Dalton Trumbo’s overt politics, outside of celebrating violence, freedom, liberty, and the rights of the people against the uncaring nobles – all as extremely broad and nonspecific concepts – Braveheart offers no real vision. But it is the most thrilling epic since Clint Eastwood’s The Ballad of Josey Wales; the scope is grand and the acting ideal for the film. If you can’t stand a certain amount of body-hacking and na�ve adventuring, then this is probably not for you, although Annie, planning to duck out in the middle and go book-shopping, found herself glued to her seat for the entire time. Epics frequently flail about, characters lost in dialogue rather than action, they climax too quickly, or offer great action scenes but no plot. Braveheart overcomes these problems; it is tightly scripted and beautifully directed.
4.0 stars (L.B.)
Arbor, Lake Creek, Lakehills, Lincoln, Movies 12, Riverside, Roundrock
THE BRIDGES OF MADISON COUNTY
D: Clint Eastwood; with Eastwood, Meryl Streep, Annie Corley, Victor Slezak, Jim Haynie.With Unforgiven, Clint Eastwood was grandly given credit for single-handedly reviving the moribund genre of the film Western. Such hyperbole may also come his way for The Bridges of Madison County, which can be seen as breathing fresh life into the stagnant genre of women’s film melodrama. But probably not, because Bridges is, after all, a woman’s story, and what’s our Clint doing mucking around in girl stuff? Clearly, Bridges is a movie Eastwood very much wanted to make: Not only does he co-star, he also directs and co-produces. Yet when word crept out that Eastwood was preparing Robert James Waller’s runaway bestseller for the screen, reactions were generally incredulous and bemused. The common ground between the screen icon and the romance novel were far from obvious. But Eastwood has always been one to flex his screen persona, so it’s not that unusual that he chose to play the role of the sensitive photographer and lover, Robert Kincaid. His real stroke of genius, though, was casting Meryl Streep as Francesca Johnson, the story’s Italian-born Iowa housewife. Through her body language, Streep conveys just as much through what she doesn’t say as through what she does. She is a lonely woman, though she is surrounded by family; she is someone whose dreams of coming to America have not been fulfilled by the dull reality of her life in Winterset, Iowa; she has a busy life stuffed with details but has nothing that truly satisfies or excites her anymore. She’s certainly no lachrymose creature bemoaning her fate, but one senses that her capacities for feeling have deadened over time. She’s ready for that handsome stranger to come to her door seeking directions. In some ways, Bridges reminds me of The Rose Tattoo with Anna Magnani and Burt Lancaster. In it, Magnani plays a fiery widow with a thick Italian accent who falls for the beefy truck driver who comes to her door. The set-up is not too unlike Italian-accented Francesca’s four-day solitary holiday while her family is at the state fair, only her gentleman visitor is a lanky photographer from National Geographic. Actually, between Bridges and Don Juan DeMarco, 1995 has so far proved to be a good (if you really want to call a sum total of two “good”) year for the depiction of romance amongst the over-40 set. Bridges is punctuated by scenes of Francesca’s grown children discovering the existence of her long-ago affair after their mother has died. At times, watching them deal with this new information is interesting, since it makes them question everything they thought was true about their lives. But their invvolvement becomes too much and their resolutions ring phony. Another problem with this otherwise beautiful script by Richard LaGravenese (The Fisher King, The Ref, A Little Princess) is that it sometimes renders things way too literally, when the film’s evocative images would have sufficed perfectly. But, for the most part, the script strips the novel of its purple prose while retaining the drama at the heart of the story. Bridges is another example of Eastwood’s remarkable economy of style as both a director and an actor. It is neither his best work nor his worst, though it is a fascinating exploration.
3.5 stars (M.B.)
Great Hills, Lake Creek, Lakehills, Lincoln, Movies 12, Northcross, Riverside, Roundrock
CASPER
D: Brad Silberling; Christina Ricci, Bill Pullman, Cathy Moriarty, Eric Idle, Malachi Pearson as the voice of Casper.At its best, which is when it’s exploiting both its eye-popping special effects and delicious production design (the interior of the haunted mansion is truly awe-inspiring), Casper proves itself to be passable, if mindless, kiddie fare. At its worst, Casper continually resorts to desperate star cameos to get a rise out of the audience, lame and phony heart-tugging to get them emotionally involved (and there is more of this nonsense than you might expect), and ridiculous, coincidental plotting to make sure this thing runs at least 90 minutes. For the record, the story follows young Kathy Harvey (Ricci, better known as the scene-stealing Wednesday from the two Addams Family movies) and her father (Pullman), who makes a living as a psychiatrist for, as he puts it, “the living impaired.” He is hired to clear unwanted spirits out of an old abandoned mansion by two sleazy, money-grubbing opportunists (Moriarty and Idle, both of whom seem to be having a good time) who are eager to get their hands on the “treasure” buried within its basement. There are four ghosts in the house: Casper, of course, is the friendly one, and immediately falls head over heels for Kathy; the mischievous Stinky, Stretch, and Fatso are the hell raisers, bent on making (mostly harmless) trouble and scaring the daylights out of whomever they can. Throw in a Halloween party gone awry, a machine that can magically bring ghosts back from the dead, and an unwelcome dose of coming-of-age melodrama, and you have a movie that’s constantly busy… but never really going anywhere. The cast is still appealing, however; the talented Bill Pullman comes off the best and provides some wonderful physical slapstick, particularly in a fun scene where he takes on the three troublemaking ghosts with a toilet plunger. But let’s cut to the chase, shall we? The only real reason anyone is going to see Casper is for its special effects sequences, which, thankfully, are both spectacular and frequent, though lacking the same jaw-dropping sense of wonder that audiences felt when they saw such milestones as Jurassic Park’s dinosaurs or the water tentacle from The Abyss. In the end, if you’re looking for mindless entertainment that might keep the kids busy for a couple of hours, the effects-filled Casper will probably fit the bill, but if you want a real story, real characters, or – let’s just say it – a really good family movie, don’t get lost in the Spielberg hype machine (Spielberg and his company Amblin produced Casper) and forget about a movie called A Little Princess.
2.0 stars (J.O.)
Great Hills, Lake Creek, Lincoln, Movies 12, Northcross, Riverside, Roundrock, Westgate
FARINELLI
D: Gerard Corbiau; with St�fan Dionisi, Enrico Lo Verso, Jeroen Krabbe, Caroline Cellier, Omero Antonutti, Renaud Du Peloux de Saint Romain.The grand, operatic gestures in Farinelli are apropos, considering its subject matter: It tells the story of Carlo Broschi, an 18th-century castrato called Farinelli, a performer with the beautiful voice of a soprano and the tortured heart of a man who can’t help but believe his gift, one deviated from nature’s course, is both a blessing and a curse. Sumptuous to look at, this recent Oscar nominee for best foreign film has contemporary resonance – as countless women swoon over the charismatic but emasculated title character, you can’t help but see parallels between this historical figure and modern-day, pop culture icons such as… Michael Jackson, perhaps? Scriptwriter Andree Corbiau has structured the film’s larger-than-life screenplay in Freudian terms in which fraternal love and guilt are inextricably intertwined. Farinelli and his brother, Riccardo, have a pact which dictates that they share everything – their careers, their women, their lives. What’s more, it requires Riccardo to compose musically inferior works short on inspiration but long on flourishes and embellishments, allowing Farinelli to showcase his vocal range for his adoring audiences. (Of course, there’s a reason for this symbiotic relationship, one that’s not too difficult to discern before its revelation in the film’s third act.) As Farinelli, Dionisi emphasizes his character’s grande dame tendencies; for the most part, he plays the role with the flair of a temperamental diva. It’s a performance, however, that’s little more than adequate, trading more on superficialities than any true emotion. And although a subplot involving the famed (and somewhat sadistic) George Handel, a composer who is awed and envious of Farinelli’s success, has Amadeus-inspired overtones, the heart and soul of this movie lies in its brother-love conflict. Despite its aspirations, however, Farinelli doesn’t always soar with the beauty and feeling of its castrato’s arias. But there’s no question that it hits a couple of high notes, which – if you like historical dramas of this kind – may make it worth seeing.
3.0 stars (S.D.)
Village
FLUKE
D: Carlo Carlei; with Matthew Modine, Nancy Travis, Eric Stoltz, Max Pomeranc, Ron Perlman, and Comet.Fluke starts off with a bang: a gorgeous series of shots culminating in a spectacular point-of-view collision that vies with virtual reality in its breathtaking effect. The movie quickly downshifts to a heel-high perspective as we see, hear, and nearly feel the slurpy licks of a mother dog cleaning her pup. Point of view is what this odd and uneven little movie is all about. With a fledgling director (this is Carlei’s second feature, his first in the U.S.), a terrific cast, and some fine cinematography, Fluke teeters between shameless, manipulative melodrama and a story that is heartfelt and very human – despite its canine focus. Fluke explores a puppy’s growing realization that, not too long ago, he had only half as many legs. And with this realization comes a disturbing sense of vengeance and a need to find and protect the human family he left so unexpectedly. What Carlei captures perfectly, and what gives Fluke its affecting moments, is a sense of uncanny canniness that the “lower” animal world so often displays. That and a neat little plot twist (not to mention a touching rescue scene involving a chimpanzee and a terrier) make Fluke an interesting, offbeat family movie. Unfortunately, the movie suffers from the use of a sweeping musical score that crescendos constantly, signifying nothing, and enough cute animal shots to prove that adage about too much of a good thing. But on the way home, I had a wonderful, spirited discussion about reincarnation with two curious eight-year-olds who will never look at another living (or dying) thing in the same way again.
2.0 stars (H.C.)
Arbor, Highland, Movies 12, Northcross, Westgate
FUNNY BONES
D: Peter Chelsom; with Oliver Platt, Lee Evans, George Carl, Freddie Davies, Leslie Caron, Jerry Lewis, Richard Griffiths, Oliver Reed, Ruta Lee, Harold Nicholas.Funny Bones is a wonderfully eccentric movie, one whose narrative advancement occurs more through epiphanies than events. Unfolding in what seems, at first, quite a random fashion, the viewer must trust that the movie will, ultimately, come together and deliver a payoff. Funny Bones rewards that trust handsomely. In many ways, Funny Bones resembles Chelsom’s last film, Hear My Song. That highly acclaimed film also marked this British director’s debut as a feature filmmaker. Each film presents an odd mixture of comic and serious tones, as well as a strong sense of place. Most of the action in Funny Bones occurs in Blackpool, England, a seaside resort and entertainment mecca especially popular during the vaudeville years. But before getting to Blackpool, Funny Bones first visits the scene of a high seas smuggling caper gone awry and then switches, quite disconcertingly, to a Las Vegas dressing-room psychodrama. During the smuggling scene we are introduced to Jack Parker (Evans), who is last seen here diving into the sea below from the crow’s nest of a ship. In Las Vegas, Tommy Fawkes (Platt), the son of a Mr. Showbiz legend (Lewis), is about to take the stage. Always in the shadow of his world-famous father, Tommy is about to make his Vegas debut as a comedian. Bombing spectacularly, Tommy escapes (incognito in a yellow suit) to Blackpool, where he spent his early childhood during what he recalls as the happiest years of his life. Ostensibly in town to buy the funniest physical comedy material he can find, Tommy discovers some crucial keys to his past and future. In Jack, who is now perched atop Blackpool’s famed tower, Tommy finds his comedic other half. Tommy also learns some secrets about his father, as well as some knowledge about the sources of comedy and the art of clowning. The movie also functions at a level beyond the pure narrative; it provides a sort of ongoing meta-commentary on such thorny issues as mortality and the very nature of comedy. Somehow, this description makes Funny Bones sound much darker than it actually is. What it is, actually, is hilarious. A montage of auditioning Blackpool comedy acts is side-splittingly funny. Jack, who is described as a “laugh child,” is a natural-born clown whose problem is not knowing when to stop. His father and uncle, the Parker Brothers, are played by real-life variety artists Freddie Davies and George Carl. As for Jerry Lewis, the role of George Fawkes was written with him in mind and he inhabits the character as commandingly as he did that of Scorsese’s King of Comedy. Cast as Jack’s mother and a professional trouper, Leslie Caron is positively captivating. Moreover, she gets to sing and play a believable Cleopatra. Still, these are only a few of the film’s highlights; oddities are the stuff of this universe. The most significant contribution of Funny Bones may be the way it celebrates the act of dancing on the edge, the way a true artist needs to push the borders and venture into the dangerous beyond. Lovingly recapturing the visual texture of the past while embracing the artistic challenges of the future, Funny Bones is a rare contemporary delight.
4.0 stars (M.B.)
Village
JOHNNY MNEMONIC
D: Robert Longo; with Keanu Reeves, Dolph Lundgren, Ice-T, Dina Meyer, Udo Kier, Henry Rollins, Barbara Sukowa.From controversial artist Robert Longo comes his film debut based on William Gibson’s short story (Gibson also wrote the screenplay) about the perils of cyberspace in the 21st century. Reeves is Johnny, a mnemonic courier (that is, a person with a cranial implant which enables the uploading and downloading of sensitive information from computer to brain, and vice versa) on the run from the vicious Yakuza with only 24 hours to download 300-odd gigabytes of precious information before it kills him. The information turns out to be the blueprint for the cure to NAS, a sort of global-wide plague that destroys the human nervous system and is afflicting humanity at a rapid rate. Teaming up with the LoTeks – a rebel band fighting a guerrilla war against the current corrupt government – and a NAS-carrying female bodyguard (Meyer), Johnny must fend off the ever-increasing attacks from the Yakuza and their henchmen while desperately trying to locate an avenue of release for the information overload in his head. Fans of Gibson’s grim cyberpunk writings will no doubt flock to the film in droves, but Johnny Mnemonic also works fairly well for those of us trapped in the Stuckey’s alongside the gridlocked information superhighway. Take away all of Gibson’s technophobic grime and Longo’s crazed, cluttered set pieces, and you’ve basically got an updated D.O.A., with Reeves filling in for Edmond O’Brien (in a version that’s vastly superior to Rocky Morton and Annabel Jankel’s cheesy San Marcos-lensed yawn-fest of 1988). For his first shot at feature filmmaking, Longo does an admirable job of keeping the story line rocketing along, though his seeming attempts to out-Blade Runner Ridley Scott in the decaying cityscape department grow wearisome and the occasional wooden drivel that Reeves spouts adds a bit of unintentional humor to the proceedings. All in all, it’s much better than expected, and almost certainly a notch or two above the upcoming The Net, whose current theatrical previews curiously make it out to be The Pelican Brief with more technospeak and less Grisham.
3.0 stars (M.S.)
Great Hills, Lake Creek, Lincoln, Movies 12, Northcross, Riverside, Roundrock, Westgate
A LITTLE PRINCESS
D: Alfonso Cuaron; with Eleanor Bron, Liam Cunningham, Liesel Matthews, Vanessa Lee Chester, Rusty Schwimmer, Errol Sitahal, Heather DeLoach.Sometimes, when I visit the places of my childhood, I am struck by how small everything is. It’s not just the physical diminution – the knee-level school drinking fountain or the barely-off-the-ground tree limb that seemed so daringly high – but the subdued spirit of the place that affects me. The treetops rustle rather than waltz with the wind, the brilliant colors of the birds and flowers seem muted, and the magic boulder where we tea-partied and cast spells and looked for signs of elves now has a decidedly unmagical, plain-gray rockness about it. I have become such a grownup. But last night, for two enchanting hours, my world became big and colorful and lavish and lyrical again. Director Alfonso Cuaron, in his first American movie, has fashioned a world so real and so engaging that you can feel it and smell it and taste it as surely as if you were there. Based on the Frances Hodgson Burnett (The Secret Garden) novel, A Little Princess tells the tale of a young girl who moves to her mother’s native land from India, where she has been living with her widowed father. Captain Crewe is called to fight in World War I and determines that Miss Minchin’s School for Girls in America is a safer place than England for 10-year-old Sarah. At first, Sarah’s loneliness and aversion to her new prim and stuffy surroundings is buffered by Miss Minchin’s desire to please the affluent Captain Crewe and by her own affinity for the magic of make-believe. She shares the lore of her beloved India (as well as her Indian nanny’s assertion that all girls are princesses) with her fellow students and with the serving girl, Becky, who quickly become an avid audience for tales romantic. But when Captain Crewe is reported killed in action, Sarah becomes a penniless orphan and is exiled to the attic with Becky to earn her keep. Now it is Becky and the other girls who must keep the magic of hope alive for Sarah. And A Little Princess is radiant with magic. The love between Sarah (Liesel Matthews in her first, but definitely not last, screen performance) and her father (Liam Cunningham) is palpable and enduring – the two have a familial chemistry that fills the theatre. The scenes played out from Sarah’s Indian stories are dazzling. They have the super-dimensional clarity, brilliant color, and oddly voyeuristic feel of Viewmaster slides, while the school is all long polished hallways, subdued colors, and the exaggerated scale of a place that dwarfs children rather than exalts them. From the exquisite costumes to the remarkable set design to the superb performances, this fairy tale comes to life in a way that makes you despair at its ending. But though end it must, its spirit of imagination and its magic of abiding love lingers on.
4.0 stars (H.C.)
Great Hills, Highland
MAD LOVE
D: Antonia Bird; with Drew Barrymore, Chris O’Donnell, Amy Sakasitz, T.J. Lowther, Joan Allen, Jude Ciccolella, Kevin Dunn.While watching Mad Love, the warning “Kids, don’t try this at home” kept running through my head. Although Barrymore (Boys on the Side) and O’Donnell (Circle of Friends) perform well as high school seniors Casey and Matt in director Bird’s (Priest) tale of young love and manic depression/schizophrenia, these weighty issues aren’t treated with respect. In turn, the viewer is pandered to, just as these high school students are in the film. Yes, humor helps when tough issues are tackled on screen, but the film’s presentation of Casey’s clinical depression and her relationship with Matt echoes many after-school specials in that problems are solved, people are cured, and love really does conquer all, although in this case, sex may be the operative term. My companion shrewdly compared Mad Love to an episode of Beverly Hills 90210: the film presents a sensitive subject (here, manic depression) in a slick, relatively tidy package. The television program operates within a one-hour time frame and though director Bird’s film has more leeway, too much material is crammed into too little screen time. Complex parental relationships for both Casey and Matt are only hinted at, unfairly caricaturing the characters of Casey’s mom and dad (Allen and Ciccolella), for instance. Fans of Barrymore will appreciate her ability to swing between playful kookiness and raw desperation, but would someone please tell the costume designers of Hollywood that bra-lessness does not a free spirit make? O’Donnell is well cast as the responsible but put-upon senior caring for an absent-minded father and his twin siblings; Matt’s attraction to Casey is not difficult to understand based on his family situation. The last third of Mad Love hints at what this film could have been if treated as less of a music video for the Seattle scene and more of a film about a young woman struggling to live a regular life as a teenager and cope with mental illness. Teenagers should be taken seriously and shown as young, crazy, and achingly mature all at the same time. Depicting good sex as the Band-Aid for emotional problems and a signifier of true soulmate status is, in this day and age, fairly irresponsible. Even though Barrymore and O’Donnell are both in their mid-twenties and a little hard to believe as high school seniors, their romantic chemistry does have its moments. But Mad Love doesn’t know what kind of film it wants to be. Sometimes this generic ambiguity can be sustained, but usually it leads to an uneven and ultimately unsatisfying narrative. Despite my wanting to like this film solely for Barrymore’s portrayal of Casey, I am reminded of one of Casey’s more incisive comments about romantic myths in the 1990s: “What a desperate hunk of romantic bullshit.”
2.0 stars (A.M.)
Great Hills, Highland, Lake Creek, Lakehills, Movies 12, Northcross, Roundrock
THE SECRET OF ROAN INISH
D: John Sayles; with Jeni Courtney, Eileen Colgan, Mick Lally, Richard Sheridan, John Lynch, Gerard Rooney, Susan Lynch, Cillian Byrne.Water moving, in ripples, in waves. It is the first image in this film, and from it we can feel that the story we are about to be told is one begun many years ago, before the births of our fathers and mothers, before the births of their fathers and mothers, before even the births of those generations before them. Sure enough, as John Sayles’ screen adaptation of Rosalie K. Fry’s novel Secret of the Ron Mor Skerry unfolds, we are led back in time to ancient days when wind and land and sea and beasts and folk lived with an unbroken bond among them, when seals and humans shared the island Roan Inish and tales of selkies – seals who could take the form of humans – were more than legend. Sayles’ new film is a swirl of mystery and enchantment, of romance between men and mystical creatures, of a baby abducted by animals, of his sister who resolves to win him back and in so doing restore her family’s place on Roan Inish. It’s a tale of old ties that we’ve set aside but which are still important and for which we still yearn, and Sayles tells it in a remarkable way, in a swirl of history, nature, and folklore that speaks to all ages. As in other of his films, especially Matewan and Passion Fish, Sayles gets under the skin of the place, to a spot where the pulse of it can be felt and its beat is a steady sound. Here, he doesn’t so much “capture” the rhythm and spirit of Irish coastal life as ride alongside them, matching their pace and rising and falling with them, like a seal through the tide. The atmosphere of this world is thick and pungent as peat; it washes over us in the lyrical language (“He slept like a Christian”), in the lovely performances, in the sounds of Uillean pipes and penny whistles on Mason Daring’s Celtic score, in the crisp cinematography of Haskell Wexler, which celebrates in the stones and seas ash, slate, pearl, and a thousand other shades of gray. Roan Inish conjures magic, but like another current film that is its cousin in spirit, A Little Princess, it does so without relying on technical wizardry. Instead, it creates wonder in the unexpected – in the sudden glimpse of a naked boy in a cradle on the sea – and in the generosity of the human heart – in children restoring decayed homes to save a lost boy. The film is unapologetically sweet and hopeful, but it’s said the heart’s true home is the water, that its nature is to bob atop the cares of the world like a wooden cradle on the waves.
4.0 stars (R.F.)
Dobie
TALES FROM THE HOOD
D: Rusty Cundieff; with Corben Bernsen, Rosalind Cash, Rusty Cundieff, David Alan Grier, Anthony Griffith, Wings Hauser, Clarence Williams III.A deft, well-directed horror anthology film from the makers of last year’s hilarious Fear of a Black Hat. Cundieff weaves together a quartet of eerie urban shockers that brings to mind everything from Amicus Film’s early-Seventies shockers, Tales From the Crypt and The Vault of Horror, as well as Hammer’s superlative Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors and the more recent Creepshow and Tales From the Darkside films (there’s even a tip of the skull to several Twilight Zone episodes, not to mention Christopher Young’s decidedly Zone-esque scoring). The framing device – three young hoodlums meet up with the bizarre owner of an all-black funeral parlor in an effort to retrieve a cache of lost drugs – is as strong as can be expected from this sort of thing; almost as a rule, it’s the opening and closing bracketing systems that are the weakest links in the anthology chain. Williams III (best known as Linc from television’s The Mod Squad), as the certifably deranged mortician-in-residence, gives a deliciously hilarious, absurdly over-the-top performance that adds a much-needed dose of creepy humor. The four interwoven stories here are, I’m glad to say, well above much of the tame drivel most similar films have put out recently. The first, and the weakest, concerns a group of rogue cops who murder a black activist and then are subjected to a Horrifying Vengeance From Beyond the Grave. “Boys Do Get Bruised,” the follow-up tale, posits a battered young schoolboy and the sympathetic teacher who intervenes to save him from “the monster.” Not half bad, really, but it’s the two final stories – “KKK Comeuppance” and “Hard Core Convert” that are the bloody icing on this particular cake (devil’s food, one suspects). LA Law’s Bernsen stars in the first as Duke Metger, a racist southern politician who incurs the wrath of a cadre of haunted dolls possessed by the wandering spirits of the slaves who died at the plantation house where he now resides. Excellent stop-motion animation by the Chiodo Brothers gives this a truly sinister frission. “Hard Core Convert” takes a page from A Clockwork Orange in telling of the bizarre “reprogramming” awaiting a hardened gangbanger in “Dr. Cushing’s” medical laboratory. Nicely executed (no pun intended) from start to finish, Cundieff proves that Black Hat was no fluke with what may be the best African-American horror film since William Crain’s Blacula.
3.0 stars (M.S.)
Highland, Riverside
Still Playing
CRIMSON TIDE
D: Tony Scott; with Denzel Washington, Gene Hackman, George Dzundza, Viggo Mortensen, James Gandolfini, Matt Craven, Jason Robards.Submarines hold a near-mythic place in the pantheon of Great American Male Film Fantasies, and this juggernaut of a movie plays right into these childlike fantasies. Scott’s film posits a sudden takeover by rebel Russian soldiers of various strategic nuclear arsenals and the West’s alarm over such an occurrence. Sent in to “give the rebels pause” are Captain Ramsey (Hackman) and Executive Officer Hunter (Washington). Once on board the sub, the two men find themselves not only in close quarters but also in constant conflict, as the complex, Harvard- and Annapolis-educated Hunter and the crusty, combat-hungry Ramsey engage in their own verbal and psychological war while the real thing waits just around the corner. Scott is a master of slick action films, and Crimson Tide is beautiful to look at. The central conflict between Hackman and Washington, though, quickly becomes bogged down in unintentional war movie clich�s as the two act and react to each other (especially in Hackman’s overwrought, bombastic performance) like a pair of noisy schoolchildren. Their conflict has all the subtlety of a torpedo. Go see it, get the adrenaline rush; it’s noisy and fun, but that’s all it is.
3.0 stars (M.S.)
Arbor, Highland, Lake Creek, Movies 12, Riverside, Roundrock, Westgate
DIE HARD WITH A VENGEANCE
D: John McTiernan; with Bruce Willis, Samuel L. Jackson, Jeremy Irons, Graham Greene, Colleen Camp.Continuing the unlikely adventures of beleaguered NYPD cop John McClane (Willis), this third installment unfortunately forsakes much of the occasionally clever, somewhat wry dialogue and situations of its predecessors in favor of a more generic action-adventure approach that piles on stunt after stunt, explosion atop explosion, and leaves you with nothing so much as a headache and the notion that the Die Hard franchise is indeed dead. Returning to his old stomping grounds in the Big Apple, a now-suspended, separated, and nearly alcoholic McClane is called back into active duty by his superiors when a mysterious mad bomber (Irons), begins targeting a decidedly hungover McClane with threats of vaporization and lesser forms of torment. McTiernan is an old hand at actioners and, like the pro he is, keeps the film rushing along from fiery stunt to stunt. But after an hour or so you find yourself wishing for fewer big bangs and more pithy extemporizing from Willis, one of the few humanistic – albeit contrived – aspects from the series’ previous outings. Thankfully, Irons keeps the film from sinking too far into dismal self-mockery with a bravura, nicely twisted performance.
2.0 stars (M.S.)
Arbor, Lake Creek, Lincoln, Movies 12, Northcross, Riverside, Roundrock, Westgate
THE ENGLISHMAN WHO WENT UP A HILL BUT CAME DOWN A MOUNTAIN
D: Christopher Monger; with Hugh Grant, Colm Meany, Tara Fitzgerald, Ian McNeice, Kenneth Griffith.Perhaps it is because in a country as small as Wales, with such tiny villages where so many share the same surname and where nearly everyone knows everything about one another, local events are reduced to a nearly microscopic level. That trait, combined with a fierce patriotism for a country which has struggled to maintain its own cultural identity, requires that the inhabitants of the village Ffynnon Garw make a mountain out of a hill. Which, of course, is the subject of The Englishman Who Went up a Hill But Came Down a Mountain, a gentle comedy based on a true story passed down to the film’s director and writer by his grandfather. Rich in lush Welsh landscape and eccentric characters, Monger’s Englishman provides a look, both sweet and sly, at a place most people only know of through Dylan Thomas or Richard Burton. Hugh Grant shines as the reluctant hero. The picture’s deadpan humor and quiet romance is marred by a too-loud, overly dramatic score and some serious pacing problems, but nearly redeems itself with a hilarious ending.
2.0 stars (H.C.)
Great Hills, Highland, Village
FORGET PARIS
D: Billy Crystal; with Crystal, Debra Winger, Joe Mantegna, Cynthia Stevenson, Richard Masur, Julie Kavner, William Hickey, Robert Constanzo, John Spencer, Cathy Moriarty.Forget Paris is not a total bust: It does have a few very funny scenes and gags. Billy Crystal can be a genuinely funny guy. But why does he insist on having all the marbles? Not simply a star, Crystal is now his own producer and writer, as well as his own leading man. Crystal’s self-inflation factor is exactly what is wrong with Forget Paris: too much Crystal and not enough substance. The movie recounts the bumpy path of romance traveled by Mickey (Crystal) and Ellen (Winger) told in continuing segments by a slow-gathering ensemble of old friends of the couple. The better we get to know Mickey and Ellen, the less appealing the two steadily become. Neither is there any “chemistry” or believable passion in the pairing of Crystal and Winger. This is only made more painful by the awareness that all the other assembled couples are infinitely more interesting than Mickey and Ellen. Only William Hickey emerges unscathed in his on-target portrayal of a just-this-side-of-senile father-in-law. Ever wonder what happens after the ellipses in When Harry Met Sally…? Forget Paris provides the answer in the form of When Mickey Met Ellen….
1.5 stars (M.B.)
Arbor, Highland, Lake Creek, Lakehills, Movies 12, Roundrock
FRENCH KISS
D: Lawrence Kasdan; with Meg Ryan, Kevin Kline, Timothy Hutton, Jean Reno, Francois Cluzet, Susan Anbeh.French Kiss is a cotton candy movie – a sweeter-than-sugar, lighter-than-air concoction that makes you forget your woes and leave the theatre humming or holding hands. I’m usually a sucker for the pink, sweet stuff. Take Green Card, for a not-so-coincidental example. Same story, really, and though it’s predictably preposterous and shamelessly sentimental, it works. Maybe it’s just Depardieu magic, maybe it’s the over-the-top intonation of a real French actor that Kevin Kline was (perhaps wisely) afraid to tackle. Or maybe I just long for the style and wit of early Kasdan movies and can’t help feeling disappointed by his subsequent efforts. Whatever the reason, French Kiss loses something in the translation. Ryan does her cute and goofy thing, yet shines in the picture’s physical comedy. Kline can’t quite capture that peculiarly French appeal that separates shaggy from scuzzy. If I’m going to indulge in the sweet stuff, it needs to be fresher than this.
1.5 stars (H.C.)
Arbor, Westgate
FRIDAY
D: F. Gary Gray; with Ice Cube, Chris Tucker, Nia Long, Anna Maria Horsford, Regina King, Bernie Mac, John Witherspoon.Friday is a refreshingly lighthearted look at day-to-day life in the inner city. It suffers from a few problems in the scripting and directing departments, but entertains nonetheless, thanks mainly to the easygoing style of its talented cast. Rich in low-brow laughs, Friday’s most obvious strength is its energetic cast, led by rap superstar Ice Cube and stand-up comedian Chris Tucker. The downside? Well, F. Gary Gray’s direction is painfully flat, and curiously – especially for a popular music video director like Gray – lacking any interesting visual style. Another drawback is the scattershot script by Ice Cube and fellow rap star D.J. Pooh, which runs out of ideas about halfway through and sets up a bizarre finale. Despite its faults, Friday is lively entertainment, full of personable actors and cheerfully served up with nary a trace of cynicism.
2.5 stars (J.O)
Highland, Northcross
MY FAMILY, MI FAMILIA
D: Gregory Nava; with Jimmy Smits, Esai Morales, Eduardo Lopez Rojas, Jenny Gago, Elpidia Carrillo, Constance Marie, Edward James Olmos.Gregory Nava’s (El Norte) most recent film spans 50 years in the life of the Sanchez family, a Mexican-American clan whose roots in the United States date back to the 1920s in Los Angeles. The film’s epic proportions occasionally diminish into blips in the family’s history as the action takes place in various decades. These 20-year shifts are problematic in terms of developing any real connections with characters. Scenes that attempt to depict the problematic integration of American culture with the Sanchez’s Mexican heritage groan under the burden of representing years of stereotypes. My Family, Mi Familia’s cast represents some powerhouse acting talents, yet the film loses steam because of weak dialogue and underdeveloped characters. My Family, Mi Familia seems to speed through the important developments in this family’s history. While the current state of Hollywood cinema calls out for a strong epic film about Mexican-American life (or any non-Caucasian life, for that matter), Nava’s film does not fill that void.
2.5 stars (A.M.)
Highland
PANTHER
D: Mario Van Peebles; with Kadeem Hardison, Bokeem Woodbine, Joe Don Baker, Marcus Chong, Tyrin Turner, Dick Gregory, M. Emmett Walsh, James LeGros.After years of floating around Hollywood, the story of the Black Panther Party has finally made it to the screen, and though some critics point out the film’s occasional historical inaccuracies, the Van Peebles’ (son Mario directed and father Melvin scripted; both co-produced) depiction of the nascent African-American political party-cum-self-empowerment movement is a stirring – if readily dramatized – history lesson for the Nineties. Panther uses Kadeem Hardison’s fictional character, Judge, as the eyes through which the party is seen. The performances here are almost all first rate, with Chong’s Newton capturing much of the charismatic personality of the party leader and comedian/activist Dick Gregory doing a wonderful turn as local Reverend Slocum. Peebles uses old black-and-white news footage of the party to add an almost documentary feel to parts of the film, but the story frequently has a noticeable (and cloying) “Hollywood” feel to it; there’s gloss on the ghetto and Hoover at times seems more menacing than Darth Vader. Despite these filmic flaws, Panther manages to kick-start the mythic elements of the very real Black Panther Party. It’s about time.
3.0 stars (M.S.)
Highland
ROB ROY
D: Michael Caton-Jones; with Liam Neeson, Jessica Lange, John Hurt, Tim Roth, Eric Stoltz, Brian Cox, Andrew Keir.With long hair blowing in the chill Highland wind, a swath of MacGregor tartan flung over his shoulder, and sword clattering above his bruised and mud-streaked knees, Liam Neeson fills the kilt of the giant MacGregor (not to mention the big screen) with born-to-it aplomb. Countering Neeson’s quietly formidable Rob is the evil dandy, Cunningham (brilliantly portrayed by Tim Roth), whose effeminate posturing cloaks a deadly efficacy with blades. Unfortunately, not even the trenchant battle between these exceptional players can compete with the conflict inherent in the film itself. Part historical narrative, part epic romance, and part swashbuckling adventure, Rob Roy is overly cultivated, resulting in a stiff, unnatural hybrid that’s quite lovely to look at, but lacking spontaneity. If you’re going to tinker with the conventions of a genre (or two, or three), you’d better do it with verve and wit – two elements missing from Rob Roy.
2.0 stars (H.C.)
Highland
SHALLOW GRAVE
D: Danny Boyle; with Kerry Fox, Christopher Eccleston, Ewan McGregor, Keith Allen, Ken Stott, Colin McRedie.From its opening titles, you know you’re in for something different, something wild. First-time director Boyle scores impressively with this Scottish tale of greed, murder, and the quest for a perfect flatmate that echoes everything from Alan Parker’s The Commitments to The Treasure of Sierra Madre, and never feels anything but wholly original. Boyle keeps the proceedings quick and humorous, despite the gravity of the story. It’s as much a comedy about the modern foibles of roommates as it is a psychological suspense drama, and his camerawork is top-shelf, heightening both the panicky tension that rises as the film moves forward and the desperate comic air the film maintains throughout. For their parts, all three leads are mini-masterpieces of audacious, thoroughly believable acting. Shallow Grave is a bracing, beautifully filmed black comedy-cum-horror show that grabs hold of you in the first few minutes and then refuses to let you go until the bitter, shocking end. Brilliant.
4.0 stars (M.S.)
Dobie
WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING
D: Jon Turtletaub; with Sandra Bullock, Bill Pullman, Peter Gallagher, Peter Boyle, Jack Warden, Glynis Johns, Micole Mercurio.From the man who brought us the bizarre Disney hit Cool Runnings and – ouch! – 3 Ninjas, comes this love story: lite, a frothy bit of fluff that goes down as easily as cotton candy and almost as nutritiously. It’s charming, in its own little way, but really, this film has as much substance as a Cirrus cloud, despite fine turns from Boyle as the family patriarch and Warden as Godfather Saul. Bullock, as always, is so goonily charming, it’s all you can do not to leap up and try to hug her. In essence, While You Were Sleeping is a swell date movie: romantic, sweet without being cloying, and light on its feet. But that’s all it is.
2.5 stars (M.S.)
Arbor, Highland, Movies 12, Westgate
Previews
CONGO
D: Frank Marshall; with Dylan Walsh, Laura Linney, Ernie Hudson, Grant Heslov, Joe Don Baker, Tim Curry.Let’s see; it’s been a few hours since something was released with Michael Crichton’s name attached to it. Congo is based on a novel Crichton wrote 15 years ago about a scientific field expedition in Africa which finds killer apes instead of lost civilization and treasures. Congo was scripted by Oscar-winner John Patrick Shanley (Moonstruck) and directed by action specialist Frank Marshall (Arachnophobia, Alive). Marshall and his producer and wife Kathleen Kennedy are Amblin Entertainment veterans who, between the two of them, they have worked on all the Spielberg adventure classics of our time.
stars (M.B.)
Arbor, Lake Creek, Lincoln, Movies 12, Northcross, Riverside, Roundrock, Westgate
FASTER, PUSSYCAT! KILL! KILL!
D: Russ Meyer; with Tura Satana, Haji, Lori Williams, Susan Bernard.Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! is proof that with a great title, you can sell just about anything. For the so-called “King of the Nudies,” Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! is fairly tame stuff. Though the movie’s combined d�colletage is abundant and ample, as befitting Meyer’s signature visual style, these heroines remain fully clad and as buttoned up as possible throughout. What’s unusual about this Meyer soft porn movie is its nasty tone. Though Meyer is widely recognized for bringing the innovation of narrative structure to the soft-porn film industry, Faster, Pussycat! does not have what you’d call a profusion of storytelling structure. Mostly, Faster, Pussycat! is a vehicle for having three bosomy women race around in three separate sports cars and occasionally get out and whoop the hell out of whatever icky men have crossed their path. These pussycats are clawed tigresses, beating up on men for the sheer pleasure of it. This 1966 movie is like some Sixties Strom Thurmond nightmare about emancipated women run amok. Though I’m told these homicidal bosom buddies have developed a bit of a cult following in some women’s circles, I’ve always felt that Faster, Pussycat! suffered from an absence of Meyer’s usual creative flourishes. The director’s distinctive editing style, so commonplace today but so unusual for its time, is scarcely apparent in this movie. Also, Meyer’s films tend to share a ribald and genuinely funny sense of humor that here gets usurped by a mean and nasty impulse that tends to block out the humor and exaggeration. New 35mm prints have been struck for this current re-release of Faster, Pussycat!, and, on the big screen, some of the eye makeup and d�colletage are not to be believed. (For more on the movie, see article on p. 42.)
stars (M.B.)
Village
HIS GIRL FRIDAY
D: Howard Hawks; with Cary Grant, Rosalind Russell, Ralph Bellamy.THE AWFUL TRUTH
D: Leo McCary; with Cary Grant, Irene Dunne, Ralph Bellamy.
The Paramount’s summer series of film classics is well under way with a continuously changing schedule of double bills. Both His Girl Friday and The Awful Truth highlight Cary Grant and Ralph Bellamy in their eternal stereotypes of the cad who gets the girl and the nerd who loses out,. The Saturday/Sunday-only screening of these two comedy gems features new prints. While you’re there, check into the Paramount’s special “Flix Tix”special, a book of 10 film passes for $29.
stars (M.B.)
Paramount
This article appears in June 9 • 1995 and June 9 • 1995 (Cover).