Hey folks, Harry here with the man that just churns em out... CAPONE... If Moriarty is "one of those comic artists," ya know... the ones that miss deadlines due to peyote experiences... Well Capone is a John Byrne or a Curt Swan... the type that gets the job done and done well without fail. Me? I'm one of those obscure comic artists that self publishes cuz nobody would ever publish my shitty scrawls. ANYWAY - here Capone goes on many of the films coming out today and in the upcoming weeks... Enjoy...
Hey, Harry. Capone in Chicago here with a windfall of reviews of upcoming releases that I've had backed up in my head for weeks in some cases and just haven't had the time to spew out all over my keyboard. I'll be brief and direct...
BAD SANTA
As much as I adore the sublime, more subtle humor of perfect little movies like LOST IN TRANSLATION and AMERICAN SPLENDOR, I'm also a gi-normous fan of balls-out vulgarity. I love to laugh at sick shit, and based on the heat that's coming down on BAD SANTA even before its release this week, I'd say we have an absolute winner in the "Most Wonderfully Sick Film of the Year" category. I loved this movie. It has no scruples, no class, and aims low in a tale of a professional mall Santa (Billy Bob Thornton) and his elf sidekick (Tony Cox) who pose at a different department store in a different part of the country every year and then knock off the place on Christmas Eve. The only problem is that Billy Bob is a drunken womanizer who hates children with a sadistic passion, and every year he risks blowing the gig through major acts of insubordination. He's a mean, crass S.O.B., people. Bernie Mac is on hand as the head of the pair's latest target store, and rather than turn them in, he wants a piece of the action. Also in the mix is Lauren Graham as a bartender that Billy Bob hooks into and who has a thing for guys in Santa suits, and the late John Ritter as the meek department store manager. He's really good here and as sad as it is to see him, it's great that he went out in such a funny movie like this. At the helm of this bit of nastiness is CRUMB and GHOST WORLD director Terry Zwigoff, who directs exactly as he should: as if he didn't have a heart or an ounce of sentimentality about Christmas or cute kids. The film is a ruthless look at human beings, and despite a vague attempt at redemption at the end of the film, pretty much everyone comes out looking like a asshole. It's great, evil fun. Give into your base desires, folks. Ho ho ho, bitches. It opens this week.
P.S.: I'm only going to say this once: THIS IS NOT A FILM FOR KID!! Consider yourselves warned. There is nothing in this film that children should see. Get a damn babysitter, you cheap bastards.
HONEY
This might be at the top of my list right now for worst movie of the year, not because the acting is terrible (it is), not because the music is unlistenable and repetitive (ditto), not because the story and characters are vapid and pointless (check and check), but because HONEY offers oversized portions of all of these factors. This is the kind of film you're going to play for your friends five years from now just to piss them off. I WOULD wish this movie on my worst enemy, and I hope he chokes on it.
HONEY is the "story" of a dance instructor and bartender named Honey Daniels ("Dark Angel's" Jessica Alba). And in case you forget her name, nearly every song in this movie has the word "Honey" repeated over and over again. Honey biggest dream is to become a dancer in music videos....I shit you not. She auditions like crazy, but is eventually discovered by a video director (David Moscow) who sees her shake her amazing form at the club where she bartends. I found it a little disturbing that the only major white character in the film (Moscow) is also the biggest asshole and practically tries to rape Honey in the movie's most awkward sequence. Reverse racism is alive and well. Anyway, Honey eventually works her way into choreographing music videos and holds meetings with director and artists that seem about as real as...well, nothing. They seem fake and laughable. Honey "teaches hip-hop" (whatever the hell that means) at the local youth rec center, where she meets a basketball playing Chaz (Mekhi Phifer, whom I felt the most sorry for trapped in this garbage). Also zipping in and out of my field of vision for 80 minutes is hip-hop artist and non-actor Lil' Romeo, who reads his lines about as convincingly as Steven Seagal on "Saturday Night Live."
If HONEY had actually been about a woman making her way from dancer to choreographer, I might have been remotely interested, and I'll admit that watching Jessica Alba swing her hips is pretty inspirational. Unfortunately, she only really does this aggressively in the first 10 minutes of the film. Instead, we are forced to endure meaningless subplots about Romeo's crappy life. Will he deal drugs and go to jail, or can being a dancer in one of Honey's videos save the day? Who the hell cares? Will Honey blow off her best friend's (Joy Bryant) birthday trip to Atlantic City to go to a mega-hip music industry party with her would-be play-rapist director/mentor? Again, who cares? The entire gumbo of nonsense culminates with a "big show" that Honey must put on to put a downpayment on a dance studio she's trying to get off the ground. Apparently the big show lasts all of one routine, and a lame one at that. Oy! As much as this film would like to recall the pleasure of watching a SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER or FLASHDANCE, the movie it is most likely to be compared to is GLITTER. All that really happens here (like in GLITTER) is that all of the characters tell the lead actress how beautiful and talented she is for 80 minutes. If you're on the lookout for a film that will push you over the edge and inspire you to swallow a shotgun, we have a winner. It opens December 5 and hopefully closes December 6.
MONA LISA SMILE
I've been genuinely impressed with some of the choices Julia Roberts has made lately, especially when she started (and hasn't really stopped) working with Stephen Soderbergh. OCEAN'S ELEVEN, FULL FRONTAL, CONFESSIONS OF A DANGEROUS MIND, ERIN BROCKOVICH, THE MEXICAN, even going back as far as CONSPIRACY THEORY, NOTTING HILL, and STEPMOM are all watchable, if not always successful, edgy endeavors. Because of this, I was a little let down by her latest work, MONA LISA SMILE, a return to safer ground for Roberts, but a film not without its highlights. Julia plays Katherine Watson, a rookie art history professor at the all-girls Wellesley College in the mid-1950s. She far more progressive and independent than any of the other teachers, and naturally her presence and influence on the girls polarizes the students and other faculty members. When she discovers that the school is essentially a finishing school for women who will aspire to nothing more than being the wives of successful men, she is furious and determined to not let that happen to her girls. The problem with Roberts is that she doesn't surprise us her. You can probably guess without even seeing the trailer how she's going to play this role. And if you have seen the trailer, well, you've seen the movie. She gets the job done, yes, but she isn't trying or challenging herself to play this part and it's a let down. As forward-thinking as she is, she still has time to fall for the school's hunky Italian teacher, Bill (Dominic West), who apparently sleeps with his students.
The upside of MONA LISA SMILE are the students. Kirsten Dunst, Julia Stiles, and Maggie Gyllenhaal are among Roberts' charges. Dunst is a little too patently mean, but Stiles and the sexually liberated Gyllenhaal really shine here. Stiles, whose character is on the pre-law track (although she has no intention of going to law school) becomes Katherine's project. She wants her to think of a life outside of simple being a wife and standing in someone else's shadow. Also doing fine work here in smaller roles are Juliet Stevenson, who appears all too briefly as Katherine's lesbian housemate and fellow professor, and Marcia Gay Harden as the third housemate, who has given up on men entirely as is content to become an old maid before she's 45, watching T.V. in a sort of sad contentment.
Director Mike Newell (FOUR WEDDINGS AND A FUNERAL, DONNIE BRASCO, and 2005's HARRY POTTER entry) has a sure hand guiding his story and characters through one pseudo-drama after another, but there's nothing really inspirational here. I'm not knocking the film's pro-independent woman messages at all. Girl Power, and all that. But I can't imagine women or young ladies of today getting anything of substance from this film. In case you hadn't heard, women can vote and run companies and do all sorts of manly things already. And since I'm pretty sure the story of MONA LISA SMILE isn't based on a true story (I apologize if it is), this tale isn't being told as a historical biopic. So why is it being told? I'm not exactly sure. The acting is top-notch and the film's locations a stunning to look at, but there's a valuable piece missing here: relevance. It opens December 19.
THE LAST SAMURAI
Almost without fail, director Edward Zwick's films (GLORY, LEGENDS OF THE FALL, COURAGE UNDER FIRE, THE SIEGE) all have the same effect on me. I see all of their faults and there are probably a dozen reasons why these movies shouldn't work, but they always suck me in and force me to like them anyway. THE LAST SAMURAI is probably the easiest Zwick film to like despite what I believe is the dreadful miscasting of Tom Cruise in the lead as war hero Nathan Algren, a man who sours at the idea that his bet years are behind him and has begrudgingly settled into a life of personal appearances and drunken stupors. Still, Cruise won me over, especially in the film's second half, by simply shutting up and letting the beauty and elegance of a dying Japanese culture be the center of attention.
Algren is hired by progressive-thinking Japanese railroad tycoons looking to enlist American war heroes to go to Japan and fight the last of the samurai, who are struggling to hold on the old ways of Japan and resists Westernized ways. Algren is brought into the battle by his former commanding officer Col. Benjamin Bagly (Tony Goldwyn), who Algren has serious misgivings about for reasons I'll keep secret for now. Algren drags along with him the faithful Sgt. Zebulah Grant (Billy Connolly) for comic relief. Algren trains the Japanese troops in how to use rifles, and defend themselves against the samurai's awesome skills with swords, arrows, and staffs. In the first clash between the new Japanese army and the samurai, Algren is captured after putting up an amazing fight. The samurai leader, Katsumoto (Ken Watanabe) is so impressed with him that he takes him back to their village in the mountains rather than kill him. Despite their fighting on opposite side, Algren acknowledges the he has no real grudge with the samurai and, instead, takes to observing the disciplined manner in which they live every aspect of their lives. Algren and Katsumoto (who is learning English) form a tentative friendship based on mutual admiration of each other's warrior ways. Not a lot happens in this mid-section of the film, but that's okay. The training sequences (which Algren joins in on) substitute for action, and it works. The early stages of a love story also start up as Cruise begins to fall for the woman running the dwelling where he's being allowed to say. They have a unwelcome connection that he's unaware of, and it threatens the relationship, but the love story is a minor part of this movie.
In the film's jaw-dropping third act, the key themes are blood, gore, and death...and more blood. In the final battle between new and old Japan, it seems that every stroke of a samurai sword results in a gaping wound or a complete run through an opponents body. Blood is gushing from every sword cut and bullet hole. I'm sure there is some degree of special effects at work here, but it's flawless. And this is no KILL BILL-style sword fighting; you feel the weight and sharpness of every stroke. Thankfully, no wire works here either. This is reality, people. This battlefield is shear brutality, and those who loved Zwick's battle scenes in GLORY will not be disappointed as you wipe the blood from your brow. THE LAST SAMURAI is one of those rare films that works as well during its most quiet and serene moments as it does during its most booming and relentlessly violent. I was genuinely impressed by all of the actors, even Cruise who shows a gift for knowing when to step into the background, and Zwick's fantastic eye for action and scenic views. The visual style of THE LAST SAMURAI reminded me a lot of some of Kurosawa's later color films in its treatment of color, in particular, blood red. This is a hearty, worthy film filled with great things despite its few flaws. It opens December 5.
IN AMERICA
In his most personal film date, acclaimed Irish writer-director Jim Sheridan (MY LEFT FOOT; THE BOXER; IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER) brings us an account of his mid-1980s' attempt to illegally move to America and become an actor in New York City. Paddy Considine is Johnny who enters America over the Canadian border with his wife, Sarah (Samantha Morton) and two daughters (real sisters Sarah and Emma Bolger). The family has recently suffered the loss of the only son, Frankie, an event that is still having a devastating effect on all of them. Despite being forced to live in a run-down building in the slums of New York, the two little girls stay upbeat and positive with talk of magic and conversations with their dead brother. The parents aren't as fortunate and tensions rise in the small, dark dwelling. The family make friends with a tortured artist neighbor named Mateo, played by Djimon Hounsou (AMISTAD), who encourages their spiritual thinking about their dead brother and the prospect for added inspiration in the form of a new baby for Sarah. IN AMERICA is a bit of a jumble but the important things are done right here. Hounsou's strength as an actor and a force of nature really jumps off the screen, and Morton power as an actor is unquestionable. Sarah's mental condition is always a factor in this story, and Morton conveys her fractured mind with sensitivity and authenticity. IN AMERICA is the kind of film whose faults are easy to overlook because what it gets right it gets so right. Jim Sheridan's storytelling abilities are without fail as he takes a simple stranger in a strange land scenario and beefs it up and gives it weight and substance. IN AMERICA is simply lovely in the most disturbing sense. It opens this week.
HOUSE OF SAND AND FOG
This holiday season may go down as the most depressing on record with films like 21 GRAMS and THE LAST SAMURAI (which you can probably tell from the title doesn't end well). But I think HOUSE OF SAND AND FOG (based on the book by Andre Dubus III) has them all beat. This film is drop-dead misery, and I mean that in the best possible way. It also just happens to be a film filled with great acting, a devastating story about the danger of letting your unchecking emotions get the best of you, and a visual style from newcomer Vadim Perelman (who some of you may have heard has been assigned the task of turning the Stephen King-Peter Straub novel THE TALISMAN into a film for 2005) that is both eerie and completely appropriate. I know people say crap like this all the time, but the look of this film (having much to do with the weather) is like its own character here.
Ben Kingsley plays a former high-ranking Iranian colonel named Massoud Amir Behrani who was forced out of Iran when the Shah left. He fled for America with his wife (Shohreh Aghdashloo), daughter, and son. He was unable to take much money with him, but that hasn't stopped him from trying to appear rich to his friends and associates. His main concern in life was to make money to give his daughter a chance of marrying well (which she does early in the film) and to get his son into a fine university. He works two menial jobs and nearly drives his family broke for appearances sake. Then one day he discovers the world of seized property auctions, and he uses all that his family has left to buy at a fraction of its price a spacious sea-side seized house, which was taken from a woman (Jennifer Connelly) for missing only $500 in back taxes that she shouldn't have even been charged in the first place. Connelly's Kathy Nicolo is a recovering substance abuser who lives at the house alone, doesn't look at her mail, and basically sleeps all day. When she finds herself suddenly homeless, she is befriended by the deputy sheriff assisting in her eviction, Lester Burdon (Ron Eldard). Kathy's lawyer (Frances Fisher) explains to her that if the Behrani will sell the house back to the county for what he paid, she could move back in. Otherwise, she's without a home or money. But Behrani has already had the house appraised for three times what he paid, and has no intention of selling. As he and his wife and son fix up the house, they start to grow fond of it, especially the seaside location, which reminds them of their home on the Caspian Sea in Iran.
This is the set up to a tragic chain of events that sees Kathy make several attempts at convincing the Behrani's to give up the property, a few threatening visits from the sheriff, and a plethora a poor decisions of everybody's part. The wonderful thing about HOUSE OF SAND AND FOG is that you can't imagine it working. On the surface it sounds like a film about real estate, but that couldn't be further from the truth. And what the hell are Jennifer Connelly and Ben Kingsley doing in the same room? Actually, a pretty incredible job acting. The emotional tension in this film is sky high, and you never know in which direction the story will go, which adds a level of fear to the proceedings that I hadn't anticipated. I was particularly moved by the performance of Shohreh Aghdashloo, whose desperation to have a normal, happy life in America is unreasonably threatened by the sheriff. She doesn't understand many words in English, but she knows and fears what "deportation" means, despite the fact that the entire family are American citizens. There isn't a bad performance in the bunch. Even Eldard uses his usual book-on-tape delivery to advantage here. At first he come across as a by-the-book kind of officer, but when his emotional attachment to Connelly deepens and it becomes clear that he kind of digs her desperation, his cool demeanor melts away (as does his relationship with his own family). But the real surprise here is Connelly. Image her character from REQUIEM FOR A DREAM kicking the drugs and beginning a new life with no advantages other than her looks. That's Kathy in a nutshell, and Connelly plays desperate better than just about anyone.
I won't give any clues as to just how bad things get for these characters, but based on the opening shot of the film, you get an idea. HOUSE OF SAND AND FOG is about as fine a high-level emotional journey as I've seen in a long time. Powerful stuff. It opens December around Christmas.
THE HAUNTED MANSION
I'll begin this review with two prefaces. First, I saw this film and THE CAT IN THE HAT a day apart; this film is much better. Second, when I was a wee lad, I owned The Haunted Mansion talking book on vinyl. I'm probably dating myself, but so what; I wore that thing out listening to it and I still remember every drawing from the accompanying book. It wasn't until year after I got this that I actually went to a Disney theme park and saw the actual Haunted Mansion attraction. Imagine the thrill I got seeing my dog-eared book come to life with the same voices, visuals, and sound effects I'd memorized. As my little egg shell cart was nearing the exit and I saw the hitchhiker ghosts in the seat next to me, I was in little kid heaven.
THE HAUNTED MANSION film may also be little kid heaven, but it wasn't mine, not entirely. The folks at Disney's second ride-turned-movie (after the way cool PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN) have made something a bit more child appropriate, which isn't to say that grownups like me won't get something out of it. For Haunted Mansion faithful, we still have the body-less Madame Leota (Jennifer Tilly) chanting to musical unseen spirits, the barbershop quartet singing busts are here, the parties in the ballroom and adjoining cemetery, and yes, my favorite hitchhikers are well represented. Unfortunately, we also get strapped with a lame-brain story involving a real estate agent (Eddie Murphy), his wife (Marsha Thomason), their two annoying kids, and a weak backstory about a tragic lost love by the mansion previous owner (Nathaniel Parker). Yes, it's fun to see veterans Terence Stamp (as the scheming ghost butler Evers) and Wallace Shawn (as another ghost servant) hamming it up in dismissable roles; and I was thrilled to see makeup wiz Rick Baker back doing some neat rotting corpse designs, which may be a little intense the the youngest of kiddies, but just right for me. But to get to the good stuff, you have to endure some pretty mediocre plot points and the phoning-it-in performance of Eddie Murphy, who forces himself to smile at his own stupid jokes a few too many times. I'm not sure how Disney could have made this film any better, but PIRATES proved that the potential is there and left totally unrealized in HAUNTED MANSION. I big, but not unexpected, disappointment. The child in me has died a little more this day. It opens this week.
Capone
If you'd like to buy Chi-Town Charlie's BNAT ticket, drop me an email and a bid!
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