Heaven

dir. Tom TykwerThe script for Tom Tykwer's new film, Heaven, was written by Krzysztof Kieslowski, who directed the Three Colors trilogy and is considered by some to be the last great European director (he died of a heart attack in 1996). By great, I mean there was an aura of importance that surrounded him and his work. Tom Tykwer, who directed Run Lola Run, is closer than anyone else to becoming the next great European director, and so it's fitting that he directed a film written by the last great European director. There is also another reason why it's fitting that he directed a Kieslowski script: Both are preoccupied with the nature of fate. Heaven begins with an English schoolteacher, Cate Blanchett, attempting to assassinate a notorious drug dealer with a bomb. But she bungles the mission and accidentally kills two girls, their father, and a cleaning lady. The terrorist is captured, and during the interrogation a young Italian police officer, Giovanni Ribisi (who is actually great in this film), instantly falls in love with her. The terrorist eventually falls in love with the police officer. Both accept their fate, escape from the police station, and dreamily drift to the blue nothingness of the end. Heaven is beautiful. CHARLES MUDEDE

The Man from Elysian Fields

dir. George HickenlooperMuch like Hickenlooper's previous films, The Low Life and The Big Brass Ring, Elysian Fields takes an intriguing premise and mangles it beyond recognition. Andy Garcia plays a novelist with a well-reviewed debut book currently gathering dust in the remainder bin. Because he is eager to keep his pregnant wife (Julianna Margulies, ugh) happy and homebound, he becomes desperate for extra money, but is too vain to get a job. Enter Mephistopheles, in the crenelated form of Mick Jagger (looking every inch the menopausal woman), playing Luther Fox, proprietor of a tony escort service for lonely rich women. So our hero becomes a gigolo; lucky for him, his first client just happens to be a super-hottie (Olivia Williams), who just happens to be married to an aging, impotent literary giant (James Coburn), who just happens to be stuck on his farewell novel. Unfortunately, the Faust trope runs out of gas, because everyone starts playing this ludicrous scenario so completely straight that all you can see are the wires. Garcia is his usual impassive self, Jagger is his usual self-conscious self, and Coburn is Coburn. The main problem is that the film wants you to believe that writing is holy work that ennobles its servants and renders their flaws tragic, which is a bigger load of crap than an escort service where males are hired to escort women. SEAN NELSON

Merci pour le Chocolat

dir. Claude Chabrol

Fri-Thurs Oct 18-24 at the Varsity.Une femme est une femme, mais une Isabelle Huppert est une actrice. And I mean that! One of the great pleasures of watching Claude Chabrol's recent films has been watching Isabelle Huppert. Another pleasure is watching his pulp/crime narratives weirdly spiral toward their dark centers. Merci pour le Chocolat happens to be one of his darkest films. Le Boucher (1969) was certainly dark, but movies about rural butchers are rarely sunny. Chocolat is darker than Boucher because visually, it's so elegant and charming. It's set in civilized Switzerland, and involves two well-to-do families who live in comfortable homes, drive futuristic automobiles, and dress handsomely. This is why the serial-killer mom (played by Isabelle Huppert) is so eerie. All around her are people experiencing the good life--drinking coffee by Lake Geneva, watching American movies, having secret sex, and playing the piano. But this black widow, this femme fatale, has to spoil everything by poisoning family members with her rich and dark chocolates. CHARLES MUDEDE

The Ring

dir. Gore VerbinskiNaomi Watts, her post-Academy Award nomination glow just barely beginning to fade, stars in this remake of the Japanese cult film Ringu. The premise: A mysterious videotape is circling that, once watched, suddenly kills its viewers seven days later. This, it should go without saying, is a bad thing--especially since Watts herself, along with her former boyfriend and her very own son (she's not the best mother in the world), has seen the tape. Which means they have seven days to solve the mystery of the tape or they're all shitcanned. So... the race is on!

Or, kinda on.

Actually, The Ring, despite its relatively brief running time, takes its own sweet time unfolding. And while such a leisurely pace would normally be to its benefit (after all, the best horror films are generally slow, quiet, moody pieces--see The Shining and/or Carnival of Souls), Gore Verbinski's (The Mexican) direction, along with Scream 3 scribe Ehren Kruger's hack-job, makes for rather dull going. There are a few jumps here and there, along with one startling image near the end involving a TV, but for the most part The Ring just sorta trudges along, rarely surprising, often befuddling. Naomi Watts gives a fine performance, but the film, unfortunately, offers her very little in the way of support. BRADLEY STEINBACHER

Tribute

dir. Kris Curry and Rich Fox

Wed Oct 23 at 7 and 8:45 pm, EMP.For those who saw Russ Forster's Tributary a few weeks back, consider this film, which tackles the same subject matter (the world of pro cover bands), a like-minded but infinitely superior investigation of the phenomenon at hand. Examining bands that salute KISS, Queen, Judas Priest, Journey, and, most hilariously, the Monkees, Tribute unearths the devotion, desperation, and delusion that fuel the fires of people who pretend to be other people for a musical living, and who are drop-dead serious about it. The filmmakers extend their inquiry to fans (including one very disturbing Queen worshipper), wannabes, and has-beens, on the way to painting a bleak psychological portrait. It's also hilarious. SEAN NELSON