Mission: Impossible III

Where the original TV show’s appeal lay in the Impossible Mission Force going in with stealth, accomplishing its mission and getting out before the bad guys even knew they had been screwed with, my gripe is that the movie versions have merely used the title (and of course Lalo Schifrin’s unforgettable theme music) as an excuse to blow stuff up and fight a lot in a James Bond rip-off. But this third movie pays homage to the show’s stealthy origins, at least in one segment, and gets points for that. And those ubiquitous latex masks, a screenwriter’s crutch if there ever was one, are kept to a minimum, so a few more points. Phillip Seymour Hoffman as the cool, cruel villain doesn’t hurt, and there’s a more coherent narrative. But Tom Cruise’s increasingly weird public personality is making it harder for him to inhabit a character, if he ever could, and while this popcorn movie moves along at a brisk pace, there’s little in it you haven’t seen before. Hormonally speaking, testosterone yes, adrenalin no. (126 min)

Cinemas 2 3 7 11 26 45 51 60 61 70 90 95 96 99 102 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 125 126

Fever Pitch

The Farrelly Brothers venture a long way indeed from There’s Something About Mary territory with this unabashedly schmaltzy, formulaic romantic comedy from a book by Nick Hornby (High Fidelity, About a Boy). The Meet Cute happens in winter, the Emerging Problem not apparent until March, when Drew Barrymore learns that Jimmy Fallon is the most rabid of Boston Red Sox fans, and the Conflict Resolution, interestingly enough, is played out during that miraculous Sox-Yanks AL playoff series in October 2004. It’s above average for the RomCom genre, but I hope Bobby and Peter go back to disreputable soon. (98 min)

Cinema 35

Live Freaky! Die Freaky!

Nothing new here, just another clay-animation musical reenactment of the Sharon Tate murders by the Manson family. Using lots of red clay. Graphically depicts clay-puppet sex, the cutting of fetuses out of wombs, stabbings and beheadings, and lamely satirizes women, gays, ecologists and the media. There’s no reason for all this proudly presented bad taste, and I wasn’t as much outraged by its puerile content (as intended) as offended by its juvenile banality. I don’t know what kind of person finds this entertaining, but I fervently hope I never meet one. Am I being vague? Do not see this movie! (75 min)

Cinema 19

Return of the Living Dead: Necropolis

There are good zombie movies, like 28 Days Later, and there are bad zombie movies, like, well, like this brain-sucking Romanian/Ukranian effort. Features an apparently constipated Peter Coyote in the mad defense-corporation scientist role, and the requisite clutch of poorly acted, vaguely annoying, soon-to-be-bitten “American” teenagers, this time with faintly Eastern European accents. But it at least makes an attempt at originality with things like a barbecued zombie rat, fetal clone zombies, and even a mom and pop pair of robo-zombie uber-soldiers (those wacky defense corporations!). Ick. (90 min)

Cinema 43

Silent Hill

Paralyzingly vague plot in this self-serious computer game adaptation has a concerned mother taking her creepy daughter to the scene of her nightmares, an eerie town atop a 30-year-old coal-mine fire. There they encounter burning coal people, faceless zombie nurses, rat-sized flesh-eating insects and (gasp!) religious fundamentalists. She should have stayed home. So should you. A solid half hour of exposition toward the end just makes things murkier. Nicely ambiguous ending, but you’ll first have to sit through two mind-numbing hours of gore, cheesy dialogue and, title aside, much screaming. (126 min)

Cinemas 4 30 47 63 90 96 102 109 110 112 115 116 117 118 119 120 125 126

Tideland

A huge disappointment, this darkly gothic Alice in Wonderland from Terry Gilliam (Brazil, 12 Monkeys, The Fisher King—but also the recent Brothers Grimm turkey). I’ve previously described Gilliam as a “poet of decay,” but this one takes the pink potato. Here’s a glimpse: The good news is that Jeff Bridges is in it. The bad news is that only in the first quarter is he not a progressively hideous decomposing corpse! Taxidermy is involved. And severed dolls’ heads. The juvenile morbidity sputters along and gets stale fast, only very occasionally relieved by something actually happening. (122 min)

Cinemas 7 100

Cars

Hotshot rookie racecar Lightning McQueen (voice of Owen Wilson), on his way to the Big Race, gets into trouble in an old ‘50s Route 66 town bypassed by both the interstate and time, and has to do some community service before he can be on his self-important way. While waiting, he meets a girl, a lovely Carrera named Sally (Bonnie Hunt—should have called her “Portia”), makes friends with a tow truck (Larry The Cable Guy), a low-rider (Cheech Marin), a hippie van (George Carlin), a smooth Caddy (Jennifer Lewis), and a crusty old Hudson Hornet (Paul Newman), who Lightning later learns was once a champion racecar himself. And he learns a few Life Lessons about teamwork and friendship. I know. Seen it before. But the genius in Pixar’s latest offering is in the thousands of beyond-clever details and humor, and in the near-photorealistic graphics, if indeed desert formations that look like tailfins and hood ornaments can be called realism. While lacking the emotional punch of Toy Story or The Incredibles, it’s fast-moving and satisfying. Stay for the closing credits. Big screen, please. (122 min)

Cinemas 2 26 51 56 61 70 90 95 96 99 102 109 111 112 114 115 116 117 118 120 125 126

Layer Cake

Stylish, cynical and compulsively watchable British gangster flick is reminiscent of Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels but with less slapstick and darker, more deadpan humor. Call it more Goodfellas. Daniel Craig is the unnamed “good guy” drug dealer, conservative and competent, whose wry voiceover describes what works in the criminal world, and what doesn’t. He’s backed up by a killer supporting cast that includes Colm Meaney, Michael Gambon, Kenneth Cranham and Sienna Miller. Directed with confidence by Matthew Vaughn, this one never loses its momentum or comes anywhere close to predictable. (105 min)

Cinema 25

Nine Lives

Two former lovers who clearly never should have broken up, now separately married and/or pregnant, meet in a supermarket after several years. A woman in jail can’t get the phone to her daughter to work in the visiting room; another prepares herself for breast cancer surgery, a third for a motel tryst. These nine vignettes of women at emotionally devastating moments of their lives, written and directed by Rodrigo García and all shot in single 10-12 minute takes, work not just because they tell us something about the people in them, but because they tell us something about ourselves. (115 min)

Cinema 22

Metal: A Headbanger’s Journey

Writer/director Sam Dunn, an anthropologist who has studied diverse cultures around the world, turns his academic skills toward this playful and thorough analysis of his real love: heavy metal music. A detailed “genealogy chart” chronicles the development of the genre from its blues/classical (!) roots with Cream and Black Sabbath through dozens of metal subgenres (power, progressive, glam), its social, religious and sexual implications, and why it has endured for so long despite being condemned and dismissed by so many. The point is that, despite all the posturing and satanic blather, these overly made-up screamers are all just a bunch of pussycats at heart. It’s what sells, see, and it’s no more satanic than pro wrestling is competitive (though some under-medicated, church-burning Norwegian black metal guys are admittedly a bit worrisome). Most hilarious segment is Twisted Sister’s Dee Snyder, in eyeliner, facing down Tipper Gore’s Senate panel on unsuitable music. This movie won’t make a headbanger out of you, but it may send you looking for something else to be afraid of. (96 min)

Cinema 21

Ultraviolet

Ultra-violent, jackbooted superhero-type babe regularly kicks the asses of dozens of male-model vampires while looking cool in sunglasses, displaying lots of belly button and changing her hair color every few minutes. Why does Milla Jovovich continue to star in these pointless, incomprehensibly plotted, childishly fake movies that require absolutely no acting ability? Or does that question answer itself? It’s like walking through a game arcade with the volume turned up to 11 and not even being allowed to play. This is the kind of movie that makes trash like Aeon Flux seem smart. (88min)

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Green Street Hooligans

Among British football fans, we are led to believe in this movie by German lady kick boxer Lexi Alexander, what happens on the pitch is only secondary to demonstrating support for one’s club, preferably by bashing in the brains, usually while very drunk, of rival club supporters. Our unlikely portal into this world is Matt, a smallish Harvard dropout (Elijah Wood) who goes to England to visit his sister (Claire Forlani) and falls in with the Green Street Elite, a mob-loyal “firm,” as they are called, that backs West Ham and is led by her brother-in-law (a suitably psychotic Charlie Hunnam). At first appalled, little Matt soon discovers a hidden talent for mayhem, the inference being that all males have a built-in addiction to violence if you just push the right buttons. Yeah, well maybe. It’s not perfect and gets bogged down toward the end in melodramatic subplots, but delivers in a visceral sort of way. Satisfying coda. (109 min)

Cinemas 7 20 64

Casanova

This 18th-century Venetian sitcom (I mean that in the best of ways), very loosely based on the legendary lothario, sometimes even out-schmaltzes Shakespeare In Love. This working-class art flick never takes itself too seriously; there’s not even much sex (it is a Disney pic). The first two-thirds are a constant naughty chuckle (though it relies overmuch on the old mistaken identity device), and Heath Ledger, Oliver Platt, Jeremy Irons and Lena Olin display their comic talents. But then it decides that the multiplex crowd needs an overcooked action-flick third act, and this I could have done without. (108 min)

Cinemas 8 24 42 112 116

Get Rich or Die Tryin’

This is Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson’s lurching, semi-autobiographical movie product about how he nobly (if reluctantly) pulled himself out of the violent drug-dealing world to become the planet’s top gangsta rapper, where only the lyrics are violent. You may not think this blank-faced man capable of acting, but he’s every bit as good as Mariah or Britney, which is to say not at all. I can’t judge his music, except to say that the movie tells us nothing of his inspiration, but as an actor, this guy makes Seagal seem animated. And what’s Jim Sheridan doing directing this trite crap? (118 min)

Cinema 20

Inside Man

Spike Lee takes an uncharacteristic stroll into the action/adventure genre with his latest and most mainstream (big-budget) joint, a fresh and intriguingly constructed take on the tired old hostage drama. Story revolves around the give-and-take between the head of a foursome of bank robbers (Clive Owen) that has taken several dozen people hostage in a Wall Street bank, and the cop in charge of figuring out what’s going on (Denzel Washington), since these guys are not acting like proper bank robbers. They make demands, but don’t seem to care whether they are met. Are they stalling? Why? Superfluous and insufficiently explained subplot involving Christopher Plummer as a bank president with something to hide and Jodie Foster as the “facilitator” he hires just gets in the way, but frequent low-key humor keeps everything from getting too heavy. This one kept me guessing, right through to the rather satisfying conclusion, which you will not read about here, and even had me thinking back on it for a week or so. Also Chiwetel Ejiofor and Willem Dafoe. Nice score by Terence Blanchard. (129 min)

Cinemas 7 57 90 96 102 109 111 112 113 114 116 117 118 119 120

Breakfast on Pluto

Neil Jordan (The Crying Game) film about an orphaned transvestite who prefers to be called “Kitten.” S/he knows s/he’s “different,” cares not a bit what you think about it, and understands the truth that, well, you gotta be you. Kitten wanders passively through a succession of boyfriends—a biker, a rocker, a magician, an IRA killer—and we meet some colorful characters. But first you have to be made to care, and this is not done altogether successfully. Personally, I found it cloyingly whimsical, repetitive, overly long, and Cillian Murphy’s monotonous portrayal of Kitten increasingly tiresome. (135 min)

Cinema 41

New York Doll

The influential proto-glam-punk band the New York Dolls, in time-honored rock band tradition, more or less self-destructed in 1975 due to pure excess. Some members died and some found other gigs, but bassist Arthur “Killer” Kane’s life spiraled ever downward into alcoholism, drugs, wife-beating, attempted suicide and finally Mormonism, which helped him get back on his feet and gave him a job as a library clerk. So maybe you never heard of the band and don’t dig punk. Why should you care? Well, because this heartwarming, heartbreaking, inspiring documentary is certain to confound your expectations (it did mine), and really has nothing to do with music. It follows the somewhat addled (but wryly self-deprecating) Kane as he learns that the Dolls have been asked to do a reunion gig in London, his apprehensions about re-entering (minus the glitter) his former persona, getting his bass out of hock, practicing hard and his eventual redemption. A moment toward the end where Kane’s imaginary nemesis, former bandmate David Johansen, plays a tribute to Kane is particularly moving. (78 min)

Cinema 24

The Da Vinci Code

Dan Brown’s inescapable 60-million-seller raised the literary bar for hackneyed, hoax-based hokum. Perhaps, even on this level, the necessary suspension of disbelief is easer to achieve from the written word than from the filmed script. The Big Revelation, involving a cover-up that would disastrously undermine the Catholic Church’s very reason for existing, was greeted with laughter at Cannes. Ron Howard’s direction is fine, the performances by Tom Hanks and Audrey Tautou are pretty good (while Ian McKellen steals all his scenes and Paul Bettany is constantly over the top as the albino monk assassin). It seems rushed, but at the same time the verbose and frequent explanations sap any suspense that’s created, turning this page-turner into a watch-watcher. And somehow it’s simply sillier. Rome has called for a boycott, which will only boost the film’s profits. I’d worry less about the negative image this kind of drivel gives the church, and more about why so many people are so willing to be entertained by a goofy Catholic conspiracy. (150 min)

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The Constant Gardener