Based on the Hasbro toy line that initially captivated kids in the 1980s, director Michael Bay's Transformers finds two warring bands of shape-shifting alien robots renewing their intergalactic conflict on Earth. While the Decepticons, followers of the malevolent Megatron (voiced by Hugo Weaving), strive to take over the planet, the Autobots, led by the valiant Optimus Prime (voiced by Peter Cullen), are intent on protecting humanity. When young Sam Witwicky (Shia LaBeouf) discovers that his new car is really the Autobot Bumblebee (voiced by Mark Ryan), it sets the stage for a massive giant-robot showdown. A shining example of the Hollywood summer blockbuster at its best, Transformers combines stunning CGI effects and thrilling action sequences with drama, humor, and a touch of romance. Featuring a large cast that includes Josh Duhamel, Tyrese Gibson, Jon Voight, John Turturro, Anthony Anderson, and Rachael Taylor, the film is anchored by LaBeouf, who always displays an engaging Everyman charm, whether he's running from colossal robots, interacting with his well-meaning parents (hilariously played by Kevin Dunn and Julie White), or pining for his gorgeous classmate (Megan Fox). While some Transformers purists may be dismayed by certain aspects of this bold big-screen adaptation (Bumblebee is a Camaro instead of a Volkswagen), the movie balances its spectacle with an admirable amount of substance, giving it an appeal far beyond pre-teen boys and their nostalgic Autobot-loving elders. Transformers, the second big-screen adaptation of the Hasbro toy line about two sets of vehicle morphing robots, delivers in all the places that spiders, pirates, and surfers couldn't: It's a crowd-pleasing, rock-´em, sock-´em, explosion-laden 143 minutes, with no pretense of being anything more than it is. Every aspect of the film is a wonder to behold, not just the buildings when weapon blasts eat out chunks of their sides or the massive robots wrestling with each other in Ultimate Fighting Championship-type encounters. Either Industrial Light and Magic has progressed leaps and bounds beyond the effects houses that handled "Spider-Man 3" and "Pirates of the Caribbean," or those other outfits are grossly incompetent. From a rational standpoint, there is no way that what is on screen could come from miniatures or stop motion. But from a moviemaking standpoint, how can Spider-Man swinging through the streets of New York look so obviously fake and cartoonish (although I LOVED the Spider-Man movies it did bug me), yet the Autobots and Decepticons so convincingly real? They blend in with their surroundings so completely and interact so flawlessly with the human actors that it's not outside the realm of possibility the production team assembled full-size robots for every sequence in the picture. There are no jerky movements, not so much as a detail out of place. Scorch marks, dents, dings…even the way each individual gear moves when one of the Transformers walks. The effects are bar none the best we've seen outside of "300." Even the actors fulfill their end of the bargain. Of course, they're not asked to do a whole lot besides run, jump, slide, yell, and pull triggers. With Josh Duhamel, Tyrese Gibson, Anthony Anderson, Jon Voight, John Turturro, and Bernie Mac, a cast which reminds us more of "Armageddon" than "The Rock," takes shape. Without fail, everyone in the film does what they were contracted to do: Duhamel provides the good-looking poster boy; Mac provides a welcome breath of humor early on; Voight is his patented bewildered government official (here the Secretary of Defense); and Turturro is the man we all love to hate. Now to the plot. The Allspark has been kept in a U.S. landmark for decades, and its power signature has been masked from everyone by reinforced concrete. I'm sorry, but concrete? Are you serious? This thing has the power to destroy entire worlds and concrete keeps all manner of scans from seeing its location? And the final decision to move the cube is just as bewildering. Why, outside of the "blowing stuff up good" rationale, would anybody agree to this plan? Hell, we can bat around all manner of plot holes or head scratchers, but that wouldn't be fun. For the sake of argument, though: Why are people continuing to run from the scene of the final battle twenty minutes after its started? Is the government so desperate as to be recruiting analysts out of high school? And why, for the love of everything rational, does the military consistently discount the one person with any credible information on the Transformers or the Allspark? Not that it really matters: This is an action movie with no agenda. If there is one aspect of the film that doesn't quite live up to what it should be, it's the introduction of Optimus Prime and the final battle with Megatron. When Optimus finally comes on the scene, there should be a bombastic score, something to herald the coming of the hero the fans want to see. There isn't that sense that everything will be okay once he's arrived. Think of how Darth Vader is introduced in "Return of the Jedi," with the Imperial March. Prime is a hero worthy of that level of reverence. Transformers isn't supposed to be anything except loud, action pulp to fill a summer slot and rake in the money. Oh, yeah, and sell toys. It's a family-friendly film, with no real objectionable content. However, there is a large amount of fighting and peril, which might cause a smaller child to have problems. The movie rates a strong 4 on my "Go See" scale because it delivers on its premise and doesn't get bogged down in plot trivialities. It's huge; it's loud; and it's filled with things that crash and blow up in glorious high-definition picture and sound. Transformers is everything you'd expect from a colossal summertime blockbuster. However, looking for logic, sense, reason, even sanity in a story based on a children's toy would be stretching the point. The movie is for the eye and the ear, not the brain. It turned out a lot better than I thought, though, by looking and sounding so very good on the IMAX screen, so I've got to give it credit. Big, dumb, and attractive in this case is good enough. I'm very much looking forward to Revenge Of The Fallen.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
More Than Meets The Eye At The IMAX
Almost A First Class Delivery
There's no honor among thieves in Next Day Air, a dopey, bloody and downbeat "Black Pineapple Express." The laughs come easily enough. But the violence and grim finale drag this coke-deal-gone-wrong comedy into a hole it can't giggle its way out of. Inept thieves smoke weed, play video games and argue over who was supposed to do what at their last botched bank job. An equally stoned delivery man (Donald Faison) misreads the numbers on their door. He leaves them a box stuffed with cakes of cocaine, coke destined for the Hispanic dealer (Cisco Reyes) who lives across the hall, and next thing you know Next Day Air is off. Mike Epps and Wood Harris are cousins who believe the coke "came from God." They plot how to spend the money they're going to make, grand plans for an Escalade and hookers Brody (Epps) hires by phone. "Do something strange for a little piece'a change," he coos. Guch (Harris) is more paranoid. And with a distraught Jesus across the way looking for his lost delivery, correcting everybody's pronunciation of his name ("That's GEE-zus!"), fighting with his shrill Nuyorican girlfriend (Yasmin Deliz), Guch has every right to be scared. In this corner of Philly everybody's related to some other manner of crook, and Brody's cousin (Omari Hardwick) is the hook-up for unloading a lot of blow. Can the clumsy thieves trust the untrusting drug dealer? Will the Mexican drug lord (Emilio Rivera) put it all together and track them down? Or will he take out his frustration on poor Jesus? And what about the doper delivery dude? Will he and his steal-from-his-own-delivery-truck pal ( Mos Def) get theirs? Next Day Air was cast like a comedy with funny roles for Debbie Allen, Darius McCrary and Malik Barnhardt, who plays the robbers' blissfully sleepy roommate. Much of the violence is comic -- threats that Jesus makes every time somebody calls him "hay-Zeus," practicing waving a gun in the mirror. But all these drugs, all these thugs and all those guns are going to wind up making a bloody mess, sooner or later. Director Benny Boom saves that "mess" for the grim, message-slapped-on third act of what had been a gritty, trippy, underwritten comedy. Boom kills his own buzz. The filmmakers behind Next Day Air probably have posters of Guy Ritchie and Quentin Tarantino lining their bedroom walls. The movie is like a fanboy love letter, but you end up wishing director Benny Boom simply sent his heroes bouquets instead. Newcomer Boom directs the script by Blair Cobbs, another first-timer. Neither shows a lot of imagination and the stereotypes run deep throughout. It's the kind of movie in which you can tell the Puerto Ricans from the Mexicans because the latter characters are enjoying a cock fight. While there are some very funny moments, overall the movie is poorly produced and horribly acted. Wasn't this movie made in Hollywood? Can't they get a believable Latina or at least someone with a believable Puerto Rican accent? Don’t get me wrong, I like Yasmin Deliz, just not in this role. Even the black actors had to pretend to be “hood” which was overly acted resulting in a mockery much like that of a parody. Even the freeze frames are badly placed, unflattering and awkward. On the plus side, there are some silly jokes and a few laughs to be had, especially when Faison's character is in with his boss, who accuses him (rightfully so) of smoking marijuana on the job. The music is catchy and fits the feel the movie attempts to create. But we still have one question: who ships ten kilos of illegal narcotics through a commercial delivery service?!? The plot is as ridiculous and unbelievable as the acting. On the plus side, the film does have a certain frenetic energy, and Epps can wring a laugh out of the driest material. But really, you should just rent a double bill of "Reservoir Dogs" and "RocknRolla." Ultimately, it tries too hard to be something that it's not.....entertaining. This gets a dreary 2 on my "Go See" scale for the few laughs it produces.
Deliver Me Next Day Air, To A Better Movie
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
3 Ghosts Changed My Life
It's gone well past cloying to see Matthew McConaughey play a ''charming cad.'' (The more he pushes the charm, the more the cad shows through.) But even if you've tired of the star's oily cocoa-butter narcissism, Ghosts of Girlfriends Past offers a solution, of sorts: It casts him as a studly photographer who is such a smarmy, dislikable (insert expletive of your choice) that the film doesn't pretend you're supposed to like him. In the first scene, McConaughey, cast as a fellow named Connor Mead (that should get your hate juices flowing right there), swans around a photo set, firing off lewd remarks at barely dressed models. When they make goo-goo eyes at him anyway, the film seems to be endorsing this sleazy-does-it lounge lizard. Fear not, though — it's counting on the audience's revulsion. Ghosts of Girlfriends Past, you see, is a chick-flick update of A Christmas Carol, with Connor as a heartless, babe-magnet Scrooge who, during the long weekend of his brother's wedding, gets his comeuppance when a series of ghosts reveal the train wreck — past, present, and future — that is his romantic life. The movie is cheesy, tacky, and gimmicky. But as directed by Mark Waters, it's also prankish and inventive enough to be kind of fun. As the ghost of Uncle Wayne, the Hefneresque bachelor who taught Connor how to be a pickup artist, Michael Douglas shows his gift for turning creepiness into light comedy. Laying down rules lifted from Neil Strauss' egregious insult-your-way-into-bed manifesto The Game, Douglas shows you the loser inside the swinger. And it helps to have Jennifer Garner, with her dimpled vivacity, as the lifelong object of Connor's affection. There's some funny business with a wedding cake, as well as a deeply unfunny (and shrill) performance by Lacey Chabert as the bride, but mostly there is Matthew McConaughey acting abashed — and, yes, a wee bit charming — as he gets the lesson he deserves. through its first act with little to offer in the way of comedy or romance. Connor is more cheesy than amusing, the supporting characters and situations feel re-used from other ghost or wedding movies, and the jokes are mostly pretty lame. There's also a crassness to the tone that makes it hard to laugh at the chick-chasing antics of Connor and his ghostly uncle. Surprisingly, though, things become more appealing when the film starts to focus, at first in flashbacks and then in the present, on the relationship between Connor and Jenny, one of the few women who seems immune to his supposed charms. The scenes involving the two characters as kids, then teens, then adults lead up to a pleasant if conventional third act in which Connor sees the error of his ways. While McConaughey does manage to give Connor a more interesting and vulnerable side in the story's latter stages, it's really Garner's understated performance that lends the film what charm and warmth it has. Surprisingly, there isn't much to say here. While I enjoyed this movie, it will surely be ine of those that will be seen and then forgotten. This gets a 3 on my "Go See" scale.
When Can To Many Ghosts Become A good Thing?
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
The Dangerous Battle For Terra
Battle For Terra is certainly not a brilliant little experiment, but it sure is colorful enough to warrant a few peeks. Animation buffs will appreciate the film's lush landscapes -- but I'm wondering if the movie has that "kid appeal" that's the absolute lifeblood of CG features. The plot kicks off in slightly familiar fashion, but then we're thrown a nice little curve-ball: Seems the planet of Terra is populated by these kind-hearted and really adorable tadpole-ish creatures. This species knows nothing of war or violence, so when a massive "something" appears in the sky, most of the Terrians mistake the presence for that of a "new god." (The movie touches on religion only tangentially, but also rather interestingly.) But it's not a god; it's an invading force. Obviously the viewer is expecting the invader to be some sort of horribly nasty creature, and in some ways it is: The invader is us. After spending generations floating through space on a massive ship, the universe's last humans have chanced upon Terra -- and it sure looks like humanity has a plan to terra-form and colonize that pastoral planet. Too bad the oxygen-making process will make the Terrians extinct, but that's of no concern to the human military leaders. While some of the more considerate folks are looking for other options, the selfish General Hemmer (Brian Cox) decides to -- you guessed it -- bomb the hell out of Terra and claim it for "humanity." Clearly we're looking at a simple enough allegory, but hats off to the filmmakers for at least tossing a few curve balls into the mix. Although it's a simple adventure story and an obvious statement on the evils of war, Terra also makes a few small statements about organized religion, the dangers of conformity, and the importance of open-mndedness. I also like how neither race is portrayed as too angelic or too evil. The heroic Terrians are victims of their own conformist ways at the outset, and the humans express both nobility and horrific selfishness. Yes, it's a pretty "sweet-natured" movie, but there are some shades of gray in there, which I both noticed and appreciated. The animation is exceedingly beautiful as far as the exteriors, the landscapes, and the overall production design are concerned -- but the characters (both the humans and the Terrians) are a bit too stylized to sell the meat of the movie. The heroic Lt. Stanton looks a like like a larger, blander version of Buzz Lightyear, while the Terrians are all tails and eyeballs; cute, but not all that dramatically engaging. As is always the case with CG features like Terra, the voice cast is jam-packed with familiar chords: Evan Rachel Wood and Luke Wilson provide the voices of lead characters Mala and Stanton, but eagle-eared moviegoers will recognize David Cross as a helpful robot, Danny Glover as a wise leader, Brian Cox as a war-mongering soldier, and hey that's Justin Long, James Garner, Dennis Quaid, Chris Evans, and on and on. Based on director Aristomenis Tsirbas' short film from a few years back, the feature-length Terra has a basic-yet-admirable statement to make about the best and worst of human nature, and it makes the statement colorfully and sincerely. It's got a little something for everyone and should be seen by all. This gets a 3 on my "Go See" scale.
Mankind Takes It's Battle To Peaceful Terra
Friday, April 24, 2009
Go Ahead And Get Obsessed
"Fatal Attraction,""The Hand That Rocks the Cradle,""The Temp," and "Disclosure" all come to mind as Obsessed plays out. One of those genre staples wherein a dangerous, unhinged individual becomes severely and, ultimately, violently fixated with another, the film is predictable, trashily entertaining time-filler. The villain of the piece—sexy, efficient, and, yes, obsessive office temp Lisa Sheridan (Larter)—is treated in the first half with enough intriguing shades of sympathy that it all plays out well when it turns from serious exploration into a sad, unhealthy mind showing climactic bursts of violence. Derek Charles (Elba) seemingly has it all—a beautiful wife, Sharon (Knowles); a precious baby son, Kyle (Nathan Myers, Nicolas Myers); a spacious new home in the Los Angeles suburbs; and a tidy new position as executive vice president to law firm Gage Bendix. When assistant Patrick (Matthew Humphreys) gets sick and must miss a few days of work, ambitious blonde Lisa Sheridan arrives to temporarily fill in. Derek is friendly with Lisa, listening to her boyfriend woes, bonding over music, and sharing a nice conversation and drinks. To him, their relationship is harmless, and he not once even considers the option of cheating on Sharon. To Lisa, however, there is much more between them, and she is going to do whatever it takes for their fantasy romance to become a reality. Obsessed is competently made, not above some egregious displays of clichés—there is, indeed, a heated confrontation in a parking garage, as well as some plate-throwing during an argument—but relatively absorbing for much of the time. Usually stuck in supporting roles, Idris Elba deservedly gets the lead role of Derek Charles, and is up to the challenge of portraying this faithful, hardworking businessman who gets so far in over his head that he has no idea how to get out of it. His relationship with Lisa, traveling close enough to the line of what is and isn't appropriate between coworkers that it is easy to see how Lisa might get the wrong impression, is well-developed. In another place, in another time, these two might have actually been ideal for each other. That Lisa is unwilling to accept the reality, getting lost in her own delusions of a life with Derek, is where the conflict arises. None-too-subtle examples of workplace sexual harassment follow, and the way the film sets up this predicament and then finds ways for Derek to be unable to explain his side of the story before it is almost too late to salvage his family is smart enough to not strain believability. As Lisa, Ali Larter is quite arresting, the most fascinating character in the film. Before the script pushes her off the deep end and flirts with making her a stock psychopath, Larter is given the chance to essay a person who feels like a true human being, her disastrously skewed reading of situations and relationships worth feeling sorry for her over. Fortunately, director Steve Shill is brave enough to follow the gradually charged storyline out to a natural, character-oriented conclusion. He goes for the obvious, with Lisa drugging Derek during a business retreat, and later breezing into Derek's and Sharon's home while they are out to dinner, spending time with their baby and ransacking their bedroom. The third-act brawl between Sharon and Lisa is expected—curiously, Sharon is the instigator of the knock-down fight—and worth some the excitement. As it turns out, this is also the film's biggest hit, dislocating the root predicament between Derek and Lisa simply so there can be an action-oriented, to-the-death finale where Sharon spouts one-liners and calls Lisa a bitch while dragging her across the floor and smashing her face into the upstairs banister. Certain audiences will be cheering by the end of Obsessed, particularly fans of Beyoncé Knowles who are there to see nothing more than the former Destiny's Child singer kick some white-girl booty. Knowles is perfectly respectable in the part of Sharon. The crowd-pleasing conclusion that utilizes her to her fullest is guilty of being portrayed to some as pure run-of-the-mill silliness that demeans the character of Lisa and deems her to be unworthy of receiving the professional psychological help she needs. By ending on a freeze-frame that brings no insight into anything and solves the plot in the most rudimentary fashion imaginable, Obsessed may seem like it runs out of last straws, but I enjoyed it. I thought the casting was very well put together. It will definitely draw a good crowd. This gets a 3 on my "Go See" scale.
This Is What Happens When You Get Obsessed
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Bringing Music To My Ears With The Soloist
The Soloist Is A Tragic Story Of Brilliance
Not Just A Whole Lot Of Fighting
I Left Fighting The Urge To Like This Movie
Monday, April 20, 2009
An Intriguing State Of Play
Paul Abbott's much-admired BBC drama serial about a murderous conspiracy at the heart of the British establishment has been condensed and Americanised into a decent, workmanlike, old-fashioned political thriller, directed by Kevin Macdonald. The original had seemed so edgy and contemporary - State of Play was state of the art - but the movie version, while perfectly watchable, could have been made any time in the last 30 years, despite references to blogs. The TV show had young John Simm as Cal, a political journalist who was once campaign manager for a politician now intensely embarrassed by the apparent suicide of a beautiful young female researcher. The film transmutes this character into Russell Crowe, as an older and more traditionally rumpled investigative reporter, less obviously encumbered by personal conflicts of interest, but encumbered nevertheless. He is that enviable kind of journalist who never seems to have much to do in the way of work, and his grizzled integrity and heart-of-gold cynicism transmits itself in the form of a grotty car, dingy flat and a sprinkle of Irish-lite mannerisms. Ben Affleck plays Stephen Collins, the troubled congressman her paper is writing about, a man who is taking on the sinister, unaccountable corporate powers with their snouts in the defence-security trough, powers who may be behind the death of the young employee with whom Collins was having a dalliance. Rachel McAdams plays Della, the feisty young blogger with whom Mirren forces grumpy old Cal, that exasperated warrior from the Journalism 1.0 old school, to team up. Having "met cute" in the normal way, Cal and Della break the biggest scoop of their careers and despite Della's modernity, she doesn't seem to mind handling the softer "female" side of the story. Crowe ticks every box for the Hollywood journalist. In the real world, we tend to have the unexciting appendages of family, children, elderly parents, etc, to whose unsexy needs we must attend on getting home from work in the evening. Crowe, of course, is a supercool loner in a sparsely masculine apartment, in which he can take anonymous calls in the dead of night. In the real world, we tend to be obliged to show up on time for work, and then, in fact, do some work. Crowe, in that fantastic big-screen way I have never been able to manage, shows up in the office hours after everyone else and then does a kind of running lap of honour exchanging quips and in-jokes with various other ranks to show how unstarry and down-to-earth he is, before cracking on with the day's business: exchanging barbed badinage with the editor. His stories apparently do not need to be sub-edited or run past the legal department. You may recognize the scenario from a dozen other movies as Crowe sets about finding out that a congressman’s researcher didn’t commit suicide but was murdered. The politician seems to be doing a good job rooting out big-business corruption — in this case the privatisation of homeland security — but may, in fact, be deeply compromised in other ways himself and has been having an affair with the researcher. He is also our reporter’s best friend from college days; Cal, however, once had a fling with his wife (Robin Wright Penn). So we’re in the midst of an awkward political and emotional dogfight, and it looks as if the congressman’s career is a certain goner. Lie low and keep quiet, says poobah Jeff Daniels. But we know by that time that illicit sex is only half the story. How it plays out makes, in the hands of an excellent director such as Macdonald, a taut and clever thriller — even if it’s not as modern as it likes to believe. Writers Tony Gilroy, Matthew Carnahan and Billy Ray have provided a convincing screenplay and, though the action doesn’t serve up the kinetic feast of the Bourne franchise, it works well most of the time. The old-fashioned investigative hack, so wedded to his now slightly antediluvian methods he still uses a typewriter, eventually teams up with Della, his cyber-snoop Girl Friday, to solve the case. You feel the film’s heart is located somewhere in the Seventies, even as it provides enough action to placate the present. That’s no real disadvantage when the performances are excellent, right down to Jason Bateman’s sleazy PR man. Crowe and McAdams dovetail well together without — thank goodness — resorting to what would once have been an obligatory romance. Originally cast as Cal, Brad Pitt pulled out over perceived flaws in the screenplay. But Crowe, taking it at short notice, inhabits the role with an experienced weariness that perfectly suits the piece. You can almost smell the whisky on his breath — “Irish wine”, he calls it. Mirren, as a scolding, hard-boiled editor who knows she has to deliver and pushes her staff into action until her corporate bosses say no to too much scandal, is equally convincing. “The real story,” she barks, “is the sinking of this bloody newspaper.” The ending provides a speech about the continuing necessity of good, old-fashioned journalism that underlines the sentiment. We may have seen this all before but generally not as convincingly done. Alan Pakula, director of The Parallax View and All the President’s Men, would no doubt approve. It doesn’t stray too far from his better movies which suggested that campaigning journalism can sometimes solve problems beyond the daring of politicians. The director, Kevin McDonald, clearly has an affinity with the material. He’s meticulous about tying up loose ends and his pacing is dead on; deliberate and measured enough for each twist to register with the audience but never losing the sense of controlled urgency of the breaking scoop. This is not an action movie — its thrills are more of the cerebral variety — but an opening scene that captures a ruthlessly efficient double murder is a heart-stopping entrance into Washington’s underworld. Later there’s a tremendously tense sequence where Cal, too close to a very dangerous man, is stalked by a would-be killer in an underground car park. But most rewarding is the battle of wits between a journalist compromised by a friendship and a politician who might be prepared to use that friendship for his own purposes. This is exhilarating, compulsive storytelling and looks likely to be one of the year’s cinematic highlights. This gets a 3 on my "Go See" scale.