Tools
911 Open House Gala
Another arts organization relocates to South Lake Union, marking the occasion with food, a cash bar, and music by Seattle digial media artists. The party also functions as an opening for a new video/sound installation by Gary Hill. 911 Media Arts, Thurs Dec 2 at 7 pm.
Abar: The First Black Superman
Abar combats racism and makes hoodlums clean up their own graffiti! Take that! Grand Illusion, Fri-Sat 11 pm.
Berlin: Symphony of a Big CIty
Walter Ruttmann explores the urban archipelago, circa 1927. Rendezvous, Wed Dec 1 at 7:30 pm.
Easy
See review this issue. Varsity, Fri-Sun 2:10, 4:30, 7, 9:20 pm, Mon-Thurs 7, 9:20 pm.
The Fourth World War
A digital documentary about popular uprisings in Mexico, Palestine, Argentina, Iraq, and more. Northwest Film Forum, Thurs Dec 2 at 6, 7:45, 9:30 pm.
Il Posto
Avowed fans such as Scorsese and Coppola may squawk, but the appeal of the Italian neo-realism movement, with its patented combination of minute day-to-day working class detail and sudden cranked-to-eleven emotional arias, can admittedly be tough for a newbie to grasp. At their most indulgent, even the acknowledged masterworks of the form (such as Rocco and His Brothers or The Bicycle Thief) can sometimes feel like watching someone else play a manic-depressive version of The Sims. Give praise, then, to writer/director Ermanna Olmi, whose 1961 Il Posto serves as a wonderful introduction to the genre; a classic that, thanks to a steadily mounting undercurrent of Kafka absurdism, is as easy to actually enjoy as well as admire. Shot in luscious black and white, Olmi's film follows a sad-sack teen as he reluctantly stumbles onto the lower rungs of the big-city corporate ladder. Nothing much happens, really, but the gamut of emotions that Olmi (best known for his later Tree of Wooden Clogs) locates within his self-imposedly limited register are astonishing, from the dazed anticipation of coworker romance to the head-throbbing embarrassment of a boozed up office party to the final unforgettably soul-crushing shot. As far as beautifully damning rage against the corporate machine goes, Dilbert and Office Space have nothing on this. (ANDREW WRIGHT) Grand Illusion, Weekdays 7, 9 pm, Fri-Sat 3, 5, 7, 9 pm.
Myra Breckinridge
The shockingly bad adaptation of the Gore Vidal novel, starring Raquel Welch. Movie Legends, Sun Nov 28 at 1 pm.
* Real Life
See Stranger Suggests. Albert Brooks' 1979 spoof of the prescient '70s reality TV series American Family. Northwest Film Forum, Fri-Wed 7, 9pm.
Spies Like Us
Warren Etheridge and David Deal dissect the spy movie genre. University Bookstore, Mon Nov 29, 7 pm.
The Take
The cinema of anti-globalization is about as exciting as a vegan potluck; despite their best intentions, the documentaries that comprise the genre invariably come off as preachy, didactic, boring, and self-satisfied, because, like most liberals, that's exactly what they are. It's unfortunate, because even misguided resistance can usually be relied upon for at least a modicum of drama, and the contradictions that arise from the new reality of world trade are crucial to explore.
What a shame then that the filmmakers dedicated to treating the subject are so politically calcified. In the case of this tale of Argentine factory workers rising up to claim the disused means of production (abandoned factories), you can feel the rightful frustration of the workers as they face hardship after political disenfranchisement after insult. But documentarians Naomi Klein and Avi Lewis fail to advance any but the most sentimental argument that these workers--who were well and truly fucked over by the noxious President Carlos Menem--somehow deserve to own the factories they occupy. It's hard to know what's more frustrating: the painful reality or the lousy movie these effete chumps made about it. (SEAN NELSON) Northwest Film Forum, Daily 7:15, 9:15 pm.
This is Spinal Tap
"It's like, 'how much more black could this be?'--and the answer is none. None more black." Egyptian, Fri-Sat midnight.
Twisted Flicks: Santa Claus Conquers the Martians
The 1964 film version gets a makeover from Jet City Improv. Historic University Theater, Fri-Sat 8 pm.
While the City Sleeps
1956 film noir by Fritz Lang about a media power vacuum. Seattle Art Museum, Thurs Dec 2 at 7:30 pm.
NOW PLAYING
After the Sunset
In which a superthief (Pierce Brosnan, apparently laying off the Pilates) ponders retirement in paradise while his FBI nemesis (Woody Harrelson, pupils fully dilated) hovers in the wings waiting for a slip-up. There's the germ of a clever premise here--invincible man of action done in by inertia--but any initial potential is thoroughly stymied by shoddy execution and mounting narrative indifference, culminating in a final heist that makes The Great Muppet Caper look like a piece of crackerjack precision. Director Brett Ratner (Red Dragon) appears to be aiming for a genially sloppy, Rat Packish tone (St. Frank is mentioned more than once), but the shambling results come off more as a bunch of slumming actors grinning at each other while rapidly developing melanoma. (To be fair, this does mark a significant improvement over the director's previous efforts.) On the plus side, Salma Hayek wears a constant slew of severely overstuffed bikinis, which honestly may be worth a matinee. (ANDREW WRIGHT)
Alexander
See review this issue.
Alfie
Even in a picture that doesn't require him to do an accent (do people just not notice how terrible he is at doing accents?) pretty boy Jude Law remains unconvincing, even while playing a quintessential narcissist. Recasting the central character as a little boy lost, rather than a predator, director Charles Shyer squanders all the attraction and complications of the original role--you don't hate Law's Alfie; you're supposed to pity him because he's afraid of commitment, which is bullshit, because fear of commitment is never compelling. (SEAN NELSON)
Being Julia
Annette Bening throws herself into each dizzying emotion with abandon, but the histrionics are so grossly out of proportion with the charm or threat posed by her schoolboy lover that the emotional center of the film is hollowed out. The end is smashingly entertaining, but I'm not so sure it makes the tedious, feature-length setup worthwhile. (ANNIE WAGNER)
* The Bourne Supremacy
The clock is ticking from the very first moment of this outstanding sequel, which meets the unenviable challenge of besting its predecessor, the fantastic Bourne Identity. Amnesiac super spy/assassin Jason Bourne (Matt Damon, who is now as hard as a diamond) comes out of hiding to confront his masters, who, as fate would have it, are already scouring the earth looking for him because they think he murdered some Russians and stole some secrets. And guess what: He did! Just not the Russians they think he killed. Sorry, forget the plot. Remember the dizzying fight scenes, the indefatigable cloak and dagger in which everyone is the smartest person in the room (and Bourne is the smartest of them all), the best car chase ever filmed (fact!). Remember director Paul Greengrass's masterful handheld choreography. Best of all, remember the supporting cast: Brian Cox, Joan Allen, Julia Stiles, Franka Potente, all of whom, along with Damon--whose robotic beauty has never better served a character than this one--help to elevate the Robert Ludlum pulp into a high lowbrow masterpiece. (SEAN NELSON)
Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason
Desperate single women can be cute and funny. Moony, jealous women who obsess over their fancy boyfriends are neither cute nor funny. And that's all you need to know about this exceedingly lame movie. (ANNIE WAGNER)
Callas Forever
See review this issue.
Christmas with the Kranks
See review this issue.
* Donnie Darko: The Director's Cut
Having studied the film carefully a few times, I still can't tell if the plot's weird calculus--what actually happens, to whom, and where, and when--actually adds up to anything more than a semi-random sequence of related but unconnected events. What I can say, however, is that the film resonates with a uniquely American kind of sadness. (SEAN NELSON)
Dr. Strangelove
It's difficult to gauge whether the picture's evolution away from timelessness has more to do with its familiarity--its centrality, even, to the contemporary sense of humor--or with the inconvenient complexity of the current state of international affairs. Either way, Dr. Strangelove has changed. Or maybe it's just gotten impossible to stop worrying. (SEAN NELSON)
Finding Neverland
Marc Forster's third film, Monster's Ball, was complete and utter nonsense. His fourth film, Finding Neverland, is ordinary and dry nonsense. Monster's Ball miserably failed to address the problem of racism; Finding Neverland simply fails to address the problem of death. Clearly, Forster is a director of the middling order. (CHARLES MUDEDE)
* The Forgotten
The Forgotten is a surprisingly strong mainstream thriller, with twists that are both implausible and utterly credible, thanks especially to the open-wound vulnerability of the great Julianne Moore. She plays a bereaved mother who suddenly begins to suspect that everyone around her--shrink, husband, neighbor--is part of a conspiracy to make her believe her dead son never existed. Because this is a thriller, she's right, of course, but in a world of infinite possibilities, the choices made by screenwriter Gerald DiPego and highly skilled genre director Joseph Ruben justify the thrills in a refreshingly inventive style. (SEAN NELSON)
* Garden State
Zack Braff's debut film, Garden State, which he wrote, directed, and stars in, may very well be a similar act of egogasm (when you put Simon and Garfunkel on the soundtrack of your examination of disaffected twentysomethings, you're just asking for it), but it features enough odd grace notes among the rampant navel-gazing to warrant a watch. (ANDREW WRIGHT)
The Grudge
The problem with the American remake of The Grudge is that the ghost never rests. You want a moment to look at Tokyo, to observe its traffic, its bright shops and busy bars--but that pleasure must be found in another movie (see Lost In Translation), because before the setting cools into the normal rhythms of urban life, yet another victim is being pursued and devoured. The ghost in The Grudge is to horror films what Ebola is to pathology. (CHARLES MUDEDE)
* Hero
Initially, Yimou Zhang, the director of such intimate character pieces as Raise the Red Lantern and To Live, may seem an odd choice to successfully rekindle the flaming swords and arrows of the martial arts genre, but from the opening frames he sells you. Hero melds modern wirework effects with the director's own mastery of character to create an awesome chop-socky epic with an honestly moving emotional backbeat. This time, at least, the hype can be believed. I could watch it every night. (ANDREW WRIGHT)
I * Huckabees
While there are many characters, themes, plots, and subplots in Huckabees, the real conflicts are all dialectical--existential detectives vs. nihilist temptress, surrealistic idealist vs. empirical purist, etc. And even though these precepts are embodied by famous actors, the entire film winds up feeling like an abstraction, rather than a dramatization, of a philosophical quandary. That doesn't mean Huckabees fails to entertain; it just means that the viewer is required to discern a pattern from a seemingly random blizzard of ideas blowing across the screen. (SEAN NELSON)
* The Incredibles
The Incredibles is done in true and beautiful Pixar style, but the action sequences are far more exhilarating than anything seen in Finding Nemo or Toy Story. Plus, the humans aren't annoyingly unattractive, and it's pretty damn funny to boot. (MEGAN SELING)
Into the Deep
As a romantic comedy, Into the Deep comes up drastically short. It's neither funny nor romantic. The chemistry between the main characters (fish with almost no lines and facial expressions that can be described as stoic at best) seems nonexistent until the male is fertilizing the female's eggs, and then--BOOM! Where did that come from? There is scant character development as the camera distractedly follows first one, then another, underwater species with an attention span reminiscent of Richard Linklater's Slacker. The gratuitous squid orgy offers the only titillation. When the entire lot dies after a frenzy of blood-engorged betentacled copulation, we wish the film would die as graceful a death. Instead, it goes on for another 10 minutes while the narrator explains that in the kelp forests, the circle of life and death is infinite--a final irritating example of the lack of respect the filmmakers have for their viewers. One would think this movie was made for small children and not discerning adults who enjoy watching a little hot fish sex. (A.J. GLUSMAN)
Kinsey
The first half of Kinsey is exciting on a micro scale the way Kinsey's work was exciting on a grand one: It demonstrates that reason can prevail over mythology. Unfortunately, because it's a movie, the second half allows mythology--the mythology of narrative--to re-intrude, and the picture grows musty. (SEAN NELSON)
Ladder 49
I can't say Ladder 49 is a powerful movie that does real justice to the life of a firefighter, because I'm not a firefighter. I don't even personally know any firefighters. But if it is, if this movie is even 75-percent legit... well then, shit--firefighters are amazing, courageous, and insane human beings. (MEGAN SELING)
* The Motorcycle Diaries
This is a film that should be taken for what it is: a beautifully constructed road movie with a dash of conscience on the side. There is much to despise about Che Guevara later in his life; these early adventures help us understand where the eventual fanatic was born. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
* Napoleon Dynamite
In this charming new film, 24-year-old writer/ director Jared Hess mines the nebulous area between popular chic and weirdo freak, where outcast attributes are both quality, subtle comedy, and a charmingly dark part of our collective high-school unconscious. (JENNIFER MAERZ)
National Treasure
Ultimately, National Treasure imagines an America that is supremely meaningful, that can be read (or decoded), and has a final reward for those who are super committed to disinterring the mysterious source of its greatness. But at the end of the movie the main mystery remains unsolved: Why was so much money, energy, and talent spent realizing what is evidently a dull and dumb script? (CHARLES MUDEDE)
The Polar Express
Here and there, Polar Express hits on an image or mood worthy of the season, particularly during the early scenes of the magical title vehicle, but the thundering need to make a state-of-the-art prefab classic steamrolls over most of the cheer. On Donner, on Blitzen, on Tron. (ANDREW WRIGHT)
* Ray
Despite a tendency to bathe in the molasses of sentimentality, Ray is a rich exponent of the biopic genre. It'd be crazy not to attribute the film's success to the brilliance of its subject, the inestimably great American composer Ray Charles, and the constant presence on the soundtrack of his songs, but the choices made by the filmmakers certainly don't hurt. Chief among them, the casting of Jamie Foxx, up to now a cloying black comic, and hereafter a dazzling performer capable of inhabiting one of the most recognizable faces of the 20th century in a mesmerizing feat of impersonation. Imposing a narrative on a life, especially one filled with so many contradictions (i.e. beloved entertainer/ abusive junkie cheapskate) may be a fool's errand, but this film is satisfying nonetheless. (SEAN NELSON)
* Saw
To call Saw a study in "ham and cheese" (to steal a line from director Paul Thomas Anderson) would be a massive understatement. Cary Elwes doesn't just chew the scenery here, he fully consumes, digests, and ejects it, delivering a performance that would be sheer comic genius if he weren't so obviously sincere. At the screening I attended, the audience broke into laughter during a scene when Danny Glover, playing a detective, mourns the requisite loss of his partner, and it signaled the swap of the film from a decent horror flick with a good idea, to a must-see comic debacle. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
Seed of Chucky
This is the grossest movie title ever.
Shall We Dance?
In Shall We Dance?, which is directed by Peter Chelsom, an estate planner (Richard Gere) wants to fuck a mysterious dance instructor (Jennifer Lopez). His marriage is safe, dull, and very white; in a flash he sees the exact opposite of all that he is--a brown voluptuous woman. She thrives in the heart of the city (Chicago); he is imprisoned in the suburbs. She has passion; he has a pension. As always, the north wants to hump the south. He makes a cautious move toward his desire, but what he ends up with are a bunch of dance lessons instead of sex. His wife (Susan Sarandon) suspects he is having an affair; but she soon learns that he is spending his nights practicing the tango. The movie ends with the marriage reaffirmed and a return of peace to the kingdom of the petty bourgeoisie. (CHARLES MUDEDE)
* Shaun of the Dead
A sharp, clever, and gory horror-comedy that manages to be as scary as it is hilarious, Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg's Shaun of the Dead shows all the marks of becoming a cult classic (and yeah, I know that sounds clichéd--but in this case, it's actually true). In the recent glut of financially successful zombie flicks--from 28 Days Later to the remake of Dawn of the Dead--the UK-made Shaun is the clear spiritual and intellectual winner, a film that simultaneously respects and satirizes the zombie genre. (ERIK HENRIKSEN)
* Sideways
While Sideways is a road movie, it's a lazy one; the distance traveled, both physically and emotionally, is short. Blessed with pitch-perfect performances, especially by Paul Giamatti and Thomas Haden Church (who really is an actor on the downslope of his career), Sideways is a slight film, to be sure, but it's also one of Alexander Payne's least snide efforts; known for rolling his eyes at his characters as much as he rolls cameras on them, the director keeps himself mostly in check here. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow
This is perhaps the most expensive experimental film ever (think of a cheerful Lars von Trier's Zentropa, or a Guy Maddin film with a ridiculous budget), and as such it's fairly shocking that it exists at all. Studios are not ones to gamble, after all, especially on first-time filmmakers with cockamamie schemes about robots and fighter planes, but Conran has managed to make something in Sky Captain that both harks back and leaps forward at the same time, and it is without a doubt, on a purely technical level, one of the bravest major studio pictures ever released. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
* The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie
Based on Nickelodeon series, The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie appeals to both the easily entertained and those who appreciate the power of double meaning--i.e., an ice cream bender that cause SpongeBob and Patrick to pass out, and wake up crimson eyed and quick tempered. The film follows in the footsteps of smart-ass cartoons like The Simpsons and Ren and Stimpy. Except SpongeBob's moneyshot is a cameo by David Hassselhoff. (JENNIFER MAERZ)
Team America: World Police
Heavily inspired by Gerry Anderson's Thunderbirds series (which was recently bastardized by Paramount into a puppet-free "adventure"), the marionette work in Trey Parker and Matt Stone's film is truly amazing. The action sequences, and even the quiet moments, are triumphs of design, beautifully photographed by Bill Pope and far more complicated than any sane person(s) would even attempt, let alone succeed at creating. It's not just an homage to Anderson, it's a completion of the creepy world Anderson was so obsessed with. Team America's comedy may run from inspired to painfully flat, and the politics may be far too simplistic, but Parker and Stone have done one thing better than anyone has before: They've made the greatest marionette movie of all time. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
Vanity Fair
The problem with Reese Witherspoon as Becky is linked to the way this film tries to reinvent her character. Thackeray's secret sympathy for his conniving protagonist--who is so bad she even hates children--always seeps through the cynical narration. Becky Sharp is great because, no matter how much we admire her pluck from the safe distance of the 21st century, she was a terrible bitch. Mira Nair does not agree. (ANNIE WAGNER)
* Vera Drake
The title character, played with impossible pathos and naiveté by Imelda Staunton, is a housekeeper, mother, visitor of shut-ins, and part-time abortionist. She is paid for polishing fireplace grates in rich people's homes, but the latter three functions--feeding and clothing her family of four, putting the kettle on in the cramped flats of various invalids, and pumping the uteruses of troubled women full of a noxious solution of carbolic soap--she performs gratis. The narrative is clearly engaged in modern political struggles, but at the same time it's a bruising, classical tragedy about a woman whose passionate altruism brings pain and suffering upon herself and the people whom she loves. (ANNIE WAGNER)
What the #$*! Do We Know?!
This ungainly, inane film purports to be about quantum physics but is really about the power of positive thinking, with a midlife-crisis plot (starring Marlee Matlin) and some childish cartoon figures and a series of talking heads who can't stop using the word "paradigm." (EMILY HALL)
Stranger Personals
911 Open House Gala
Another arts organization relocates to South Lake Union, marking the occasion with food, a cash bar, and music by Seattle digial media artists. The party also functions as an opening for a new video/sound installation by Gary Hill. 911 Media Arts, Thurs Dec 2 at 7 pm.
Abar: The First Black Superman
Abar combats racism and makes hoodlums clean up their own graffiti! Take that! Grand Illusion, Fri-Sat 11 pm.
Berlin: Symphony of a Big CIty
Walter Ruttmann explores the urban archipelago, circa 1927. Rendezvous, Wed Dec 1 at 7:30 pm.
Easy
See review this issue. Varsity, Fri-Sun 2:10, 4:30, 7, 9:20 pm, Mon-Thurs 7, 9:20 pm.
The Fourth World War
A digital documentary about popular uprisings in Mexico, Palestine, Argentina, Iraq, and more. Northwest Film Forum, Thurs Dec 2 at 6, 7:45, 9:30 pm.
Il Posto
Avowed fans such as Scorsese and Coppola may squawk, but the appeal of the Italian neo-realism movement, with its patented combination of minute day-to-day working class detail and sudden cranked-to-eleven emotional arias, can admittedly be tough for a newbie to grasp. At their most indulgent, even the acknowledged masterworks of the form (such as Rocco and His Brothers or The Bicycle Thief) can sometimes feel like watching someone else play a manic-depressive version of The Sims. Give praise, then, to writer/director Ermanna Olmi, whose 1961 Il Posto serves as a wonderful introduction to the genre; a classic that, thanks to a steadily mounting undercurrent of Kafka absurdism, is as easy to actually enjoy as well as admire. Shot in luscious black and white, Olmi's film follows a sad-sack teen as he reluctantly stumbles onto the lower rungs of the big-city corporate ladder. Nothing much happens, really, but the gamut of emotions that Olmi (best known for his later Tree of Wooden Clogs) locates within his self-imposedly limited register are astonishing, from the dazed anticipation of coworker romance to the head-throbbing embarrassment of a boozed up office party to the final unforgettably soul-crushing shot. As far as beautifully damning rage against the corporate machine goes, Dilbert and Office Space have nothing on this. (ANDREW WRIGHT) Grand Illusion, Weekdays 7, 9 pm, Fri-Sat 3, 5, 7, 9 pm.
Myra Breckinridge
The shockingly bad adaptation of the Gore Vidal novel, starring Raquel Welch. Movie Legends, Sun Nov 28 at 1 pm.
* Real Life
See Stranger Suggests. Albert Brooks' 1979 spoof of the prescient '70s reality TV series American Family. Northwest Film Forum, Fri-Wed 7, 9pm.
Spies Like Us
Warren Etheridge and David Deal dissect the spy movie genre. University Bookstore, Mon Nov 29, 7 pm.
The Take
The cinema of anti-globalization is about as exciting as a vegan potluck; despite their best intentions, the documentaries that comprise the genre invariably come off as preachy, didactic, boring, and self-satisfied, because, like most liberals, that's exactly what they are. It's unfortunate, because even misguided resistance can usually be relied upon for at least a modicum of drama, and the contradictions that arise from the new reality of world trade are crucial to explore.
What a shame then that the filmmakers dedicated to treating the subject are so politically calcified. In the case of this tale of Argentine factory workers rising up to claim the disused means of production (abandoned factories), you can feel the rightful frustration of the workers as they face hardship after political disenfranchisement after insult. But documentarians Naomi Klein and Avi Lewis fail to advance any but the most sentimental argument that these workers--who were well and truly fucked over by the noxious President Carlos Menem--somehow deserve to own the factories they occupy. It's hard to know what's more frustrating: the painful reality or the lousy movie these effete chumps made about it. (SEAN NELSON) Northwest Film Forum, Daily 7:15, 9:15 pm.
This is Spinal Tap
"It's like, 'how much more black could this be?'--and the answer is none. None more black." Egyptian, Fri-Sat midnight.
Twisted Flicks: Santa Claus Conquers the Martians
The 1964 film version gets a makeover from Jet City Improv. Historic University Theater, Fri-Sat 8 pm.
While the City Sleeps
1956 film noir by Fritz Lang about a media power vacuum. Seattle Art Museum, Thurs Dec 2 at 7:30 pm.
NOW PLAYING
After the Sunset
In which a superthief (Pierce Brosnan, apparently laying off the Pilates) ponders retirement in paradise while his FBI nemesis (Woody Harrelson, pupils fully dilated) hovers in the wings waiting for a slip-up. There's the germ of a clever premise here--invincible man of action done in by inertia--but any initial potential is thoroughly stymied by shoddy execution and mounting narrative indifference, culminating in a final heist that makes The Great Muppet Caper look like a piece of crackerjack precision. Director Brett Ratner (Red Dragon) appears to be aiming for a genially sloppy, Rat Packish tone (St. Frank is mentioned more than once), but the shambling results come off more as a bunch of slumming actors grinning at each other while rapidly developing melanoma. (To be fair, this does mark a significant improvement over the director's previous efforts.) On the plus side, Salma Hayek wears a constant slew of severely overstuffed bikinis, which honestly may be worth a matinee. (ANDREW WRIGHT)
Alexander
See review this issue.
Alfie
Even in a picture that doesn't require him to do an accent (do people just not notice how terrible he is at doing accents?) pretty boy Jude Law remains unconvincing, even while playing a quintessential narcissist. Recasting the central character as a little boy lost, rather than a predator, director Charles Shyer squanders all the attraction and complications of the original role--you don't hate Law's Alfie; you're supposed to pity him because he's afraid of commitment, which is bullshit, because fear of commitment is never compelling. (SEAN NELSON)
Being Julia
Annette Bening throws herself into each dizzying emotion with abandon, but the histrionics are so grossly out of proportion with the charm or threat posed by her schoolboy lover that the emotional center of the film is hollowed out. The end is smashingly entertaining, but I'm not so sure it makes the tedious, feature-length setup worthwhile. (ANNIE WAGNER)
* The Bourne Supremacy
The clock is ticking from the very first moment of this outstanding sequel, which meets the unenviable challenge of besting its predecessor, the fantastic Bourne Identity. Amnesiac super spy/assassin Jason Bourne (Matt Damon, who is now as hard as a diamond) comes out of hiding to confront his masters, who, as fate would have it, are already scouring the earth looking for him because they think he murdered some Russians and stole some secrets. And guess what: He did! Just not the Russians they think he killed. Sorry, forget the plot. Remember the dizzying fight scenes, the indefatigable cloak and dagger in which everyone is the smartest person in the room (and Bourne is the smartest of them all), the best car chase ever filmed (fact!). Remember director Paul Greengrass's masterful handheld choreography. Best of all, remember the supporting cast: Brian Cox, Joan Allen, Julia Stiles, Franka Potente, all of whom, along with Damon--whose robotic beauty has never better served a character than this one--help to elevate the Robert Ludlum pulp into a high lowbrow masterpiece. (SEAN NELSON)
Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason
Desperate single women can be cute and funny. Moony, jealous women who obsess over their fancy boyfriends are neither cute nor funny. And that's all you need to know about this exceedingly lame movie. (ANNIE WAGNER)
Callas Forever
See review this issue.
Christmas with the Kranks
See review this issue.
* Donnie Darko: The Director's Cut
Having studied the film carefully a few times, I still can't tell if the plot's weird calculus--what actually happens, to whom, and where, and when--actually adds up to anything more than a semi-random sequence of related but unconnected events. What I can say, however, is that the film resonates with a uniquely American kind of sadness. (SEAN NELSON)
Dr. Strangelove
It's difficult to gauge whether the picture's evolution away from timelessness has more to do with its familiarity--its centrality, even, to the contemporary sense of humor--or with the inconvenient complexity of the current state of international affairs. Either way, Dr. Strangelove has changed. Or maybe it's just gotten impossible to stop worrying. (SEAN NELSON)
Finding Neverland
Marc Forster's third film, Monster's Ball, was complete and utter nonsense. His fourth film, Finding Neverland, is ordinary and dry nonsense. Monster's Ball miserably failed to address the problem of racism; Finding Neverland simply fails to address the problem of death. Clearly, Forster is a director of the middling order. (CHARLES MUDEDE)
* The Forgotten
The Forgotten is a surprisingly strong mainstream thriller, with twists that are both implausible and utterly credible, thanks especially to the open-wound vulnerability of the great Julianne Moore. She plays a bereaved mother who suddenly begins to suspect that everyone around her--shrink, husband, neighbor--is part of a conspiracy to make her believe her dead son never existed. Because this is a thriller, she's right, of course, but in a world of infinite possibilities, the choices made by screenwriter Gerald DiPego and highly skilled genre director Joseph Ruben justify the thrills in a refreshingly inventive style. (SEAN NELSON)
* Garden State
Zack Braff's debut film, Garden State, which he wrote, directed, and stars in, may very well be a similar act of egogasm (when you put Simon and Garfunkel on the soundtrack of your examination of disaffected twentysomethings, you're just asking for it), but it features enough odd grace notes among the rampant navel-gazing to warrant a watch. (ANDREW WRIGHT)
The Grudge
The problem with the American remake of The Grudge is that the ghost never rests. You want a moment to look at Tokyo, to observe its traffic, its bright shops and busy bars--but that pleasure must be found in another movie (see Lost In Translation), because before the setting cools into the normal rhythms of urban life, yet another victim is being pursued and devoured. The ghost in The Grudge is to horror films what Ebola is to pathology. (CHARLES MUDEDE)
* Hero
Initially, Yimou Zhang, the director of such intimate character pieces as Raise the Red Lantern and To Live, may seem an odd choice to successfully rekindle the flaming swords and arrows of the martial arts genre, but from the opening frames he sells you. Hero melds modern wirework effects with the director's own mastery of character to create an awesome chop-socky epic with an honestly moving emotional backbeat. This time, at least, the hype can be believed. I could watch it every night. (ANDREW WRIGHT)
I * Huckabees
While there are many characters, themes, plots, and subplots in Huckabees, the real conflicts are all dialectical--existential detectives vs. nihilist temptress, surrealistic idealist vs. empirical purist, etc. And even though these precepts are embodied by famous actors, the entire film winds up feeling like an abstraction, rather than a dramatization, of a philosophical quandary. That doesn't mean Huckabees fails to entertain; it just means that the viewer is required to discern a pattern from a seemingly random blizzard of ideas blowing across the screen. (SEAN NELSON)
* The Incredibles
The Incredibles is done in true and beautiful Pixar style, but the action sequences are far more exhilarating than anything seen in Finding Nemo or Toy Story. Plus, the humans aren't annoyingly unattractive, and it's pretty damn funny to boot. (MEGAN SELING)
Into the Deep
As a romantic comedy, Into the Deep comes up drastically short. It's neither funny nor romantic. The chemistry between the main characters (fish with almost no lines and facial expressions that can be described as stoic at best) seems nonexistent until the male is fertilizing the female's eggs, and then--BOOM! Where did that come from? There is scant character development as the camera distractedly follows first one, then another, underwater species with an attention span reminiscent of Richard Linklater's Slacker. The gratuitous squid orgy offers the only titillation. When the entire lot dies after a frenzy of blood-engorged betentacled copulation, we wish the film would die as graceful a death. Instead, it goes on for another 10 minutes while the narrator explains that in the kelp forests, the circle of life and death is infinite--a final irritating example of the lack of respect the filmmakers have for their viewers. One would think this movie was made for small children and not discerning adults who enjoy watching a little hot fish sex. (A.J. GLUSMAN)
Kinsey
The first half of Kinsey is exciting on a micro scale the way Kinsey's work was exciting on a grand one: It demonstrates that reason can prevail over mythology. Unfortunately, because it's a movie, the second half allows mythology--the mythology of narrative--to re-intrude, and the picture grows musty. (SEAN NELSON)
Ladder 49
I can't say Ladder 49 is a powerful movie that does real justice to the life of a firefighter, because I'm not a firefighter. I don't even personally know any firefighters. But if it is, if this movie is even 75-percent legit... well then, shit--firefighters are amazing, courageous, and insane human beings. (MEGAN SELING)
* The Motorcycle Diaries
This is a film that should be taken for what it is: a beautifully constructed road movie with a dash of conscience on the side. There is much to despise about Che Guevara later in his life; these early adventures help us understand where the eventual fanatic was born. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
* Napoleon Dynamite
In this charming new film, 24-year-old writer/ director Jared Hess mines the nebulous area between popular chic and weirdo freak, where outcast attributes are both quality, subtle comedy, and a charmingly dark part of our collective high-school unconscious. (JENNIFER MAERZ)
National Treasure
Ultimately, National Treasure imagines an America that is supremely meaningful, that can be read (or decoded), and has a final reward for those who are super committed to disinterring the mysterious source of its greatness. But at the end of the movie the main mystery remains unsolved: Why was so much money, energy, and talent spent realizing what is evidently a dull and dumb script? (CHARLES MUDEDE)
The Polar Express
Here and there, Polar Express hits on an image or mood worthy of the season, particularly during the early scenes of the magical title vehicle, but the thundering need to make a state-of-the-art prefab classic steamrolls over most of the cheer. On Donner, on Blitzen, on Tron. (ANDREW WRIGHT)
* Ray
Despite a tendency to bathe in the molasses of sentimentality, Ray is a rich exponent of the biopic genre. It'd be crazy not to attribute the film's success to the brilliance of its subject, the inestimably great American composer Ray Charles, and the constant presence on the soundtrack of his songs, but the choices made by the filmmakers certainly don't hurt. Chief among them, the casting of Jamie Foxx, up to now a cloying black comic, and hereafter a dazzling performer capable of inhabiting one of the most recognizable faces of the 20th century in a mesmerizing feat of impersonation. Imposing a narrative on a life, especially one filled with so many contradictions (i.e. beloved entertainer/ abusive junkie cheapskate) may be a fool's errand, but this film is satisfying nonetheless. (SEAN NELSON)
* Saw
To call Saw a study in "ham and cheese" (to steal a line from director Paul Thomas Anderson) would be a massive understatement. Cary Elwes doesn't just chew the scenery here, he fully consumes, digests, and ejects it, delivering a performance that would be sheer comic genius if he weren't so obviously sincere. At the screening I attended, the audience broke into laughter during a scene when Danny Glover, playing a detective, mourns the requisite loss of his partner, and it signaled the swap of the film from a decent horror flick with a good idea, to a must-see comic debacle. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
Seed of Chucky
This is the grossest movie title ever.
Shall We Dance?
In Shall We Dance?, which is directed by Peter Chelsom, an estate planner (Richard Gere) wants to fuck a mysterious dance instructor (Jennifer Lopez). His marriage is safe, dull, and very white; in a flash he sees the exact opposite of all that he is--a brown voluptuous woman. She thrives in the heart of the city (Chicago); he is imprisoned in the suburbs. She has passion; he has a pension. As always, the north wants to hump the south. He makes a cautious move toward his desire, but what he ends up with are a bunch of dance lessons instead of sex. His wife (Susan Sarandon) suspects he is having an affair; but she soon learns that he is spending his nights practicing the tango. The movie ends with the marriage reaffirmed and a return of peace to the kingdom of the petty bourgeoisie. (CHARLES MUDEDE)
* Shaun of the Dead
A sharp, clever, and gory horror-comedy that manages to be as scary as it is hilarious, Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg's Shaun of the Dead shows all the marks of becoming a cult classic (and yeah, I know that sounds clichéd--but in this case, it's actually true). In the recent glut of financially successful zombie flicks--from 28 Days Later to the remake of Dawn of the Dead--the UK-made Shaun is the clear spiritual and intellectual winner, a film that simultaneously respects and satirizes the zombie genre. (ERIK HENRIKSEN)
* Sideways
While Sideways is a road movie, it's a lazy one; the distance traveled, both physically and emotionally, is short. Blessed with pitch-perfect performances, especially by Paul Giamatti and Thomas Haden Church (who really is an actor on the downslope of his career), Sideways is a slight film, to be sure, but it's also one of Alexander Payne's least snide efforts; known for rolling his eyes at his characters as much as he rolls cameras on them, the director keeps himself mostly in check here. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow
This is perhaps the most expensive experimental film ever (think of a cheerful Lars von Trier's Zentropa, or a Guy Maddin film with a ridiculous budget), and as such it's fairly shocking that it exists at all. Studios are not ones to gamble, after all, especially on first-time filmmakers with cockamamie schemes about robots and fighter planes, but Conran has managed to make something in Sky Captain that both harks back and leaps forward at the same time, and it is without a doubt, on a purely technical level, one of the bravest major studio pictures ever released. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
* The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie
Based on Nickelodeon series, The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie appeals to both the easily entertained and those who appreciate the power of double meaning--i.e., an ice cream bender that cause SpongeBob and Patrick to pass out, and wake up crimson eyed and quick tempered. The film follows in the footsteps of smart-ass cartoons like The Simpsons and Ren and Stimpy. Except SpongeBob's moneyshot is a cameo by David Hassselhoff. (JENNIFER MAERZ)
Team America: World Police
Heavily inspired by Gerry Anderson's Thunderbirds series (which was recently bastardized by Paramount into a puppet-free "adventure"), the marionette work in Trey Parker and Matt Stone's film is truly amazing. The action sequences, and even the quiet moments, are triumphs of design, beautifully photographed by Bill Pope and far more complicated than any sane person(s) would even attempt, let alone succeed at creating. It's not just an homage to Anderson, it's a completion of the creepy world Anderson was so obsessed with. Team America's comedy may run from inspired to painfully flat, and the politics may be far too simplistic, but Parker and Stone have done one thing better than anyone has before: They've made the greatest marionette movie of all time. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
Vanity Fair
The problem with Reese Witherspoon as Becky is linked to the way this film tries to reinvent her character. Thackeray's secret sympathy for his conniving protagonist--who is so bad she even hates children--always seeps through the cynical narration. Becky Sharp is great because, no matter how much we admire her pluck from the safe distance of the 21st century, she was a terrible bitch. Mira Nair does not agree. (ANNIE WAGNER)
* Vera Drake
The title character, played with impossible pathos and naiveté by Imelda Staunton, is a housekeeper, mother, visitor of shut-ins, and part-time abortionist. She is paid for polishing fireplace grates in rich people's homes, but the latter three functions--feeding and clothing her family of four, putting the kettle on in the cramped flats of various invalids, and pumping the uteruses of troubled women full of a noxious solution of carbolic soap--she performs gratis. The narrative is clearly engaged in modern political struggles, but at the same time it's a bruising, classical tragedy about a woman whose passionate altruism brings pain and suffering upon herself and the people whom she loves. (ANNIE WAGNER)
What the #$*! Do We Know?!
This ungainly, inane film purports to be about quantum physics but is really about the power of positive thinking, with a midlife-crisis plot (starring Marlee Matlin) and some childish cartoon figures and a series of talking heads who can't stop using the word "paradigm." (EMILY HALL)
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