Anyone who saw Lara Croft: Tomb Raider will agree that it didn’t make a great deal of sense. That apparently didn’t matter to the people who flocked to the multi-plex to see Angelina Jolie run in slow motion and hang upside down while fighting bad guys. Enough people agreed that trifles like plot and believability were secondary to seeing Jolie battling a frantic robot that a sequel was commissioned.
I’m tickled to report that Lara Croft Tomb Raider: The Cradle of Life not only has one of the longest titles of the summer, but also has a story that almost makes sense! Not that we demand much from these movies. The story is simply a peg to hang Ms Jolie’s bikini on while temples crash, motorcycles rev and people defy gravity, flying through the air as Lara Croft punches a shark. It’s a popcorn movie, not Dostoyevsky, although at times this movie feels as long as a Russian novel.
Here’s the story as I remember it… Somewhere between diving in a skintight silver wetsuit and riding side-saddle on her English country estate archeologist Croft learns that a shining golden globe – which she had in her possession, then lost – is actually a map to the mysterious Cradle of Life where the famous Pandora’s Box is said to be hidden. While wearing a natty kimono Croft learns that former Nobel Prize winner and “modern day Dr. Mengele” Jonathan Reiss (Ciaran Hinds), has the orb and is close to uncovering its secret. She must don a skin-tight motorcycle jacket and find him, before he discovers the deadly secret of Pandora’s Box and sells its poison to the highest bidder.
For support Lara entices an old flame named Gerrard (Terry Butler), currently doing time in a Siberian ultra-high security prison for crimes against the state. Looking fetching in a white fur trimmed winter coat she offers him freedom and a great deal of money to help her. Thus begins their whirlwind world tour of destruction as the dynamic duo travel to Mainland China, Hong Kong, and Africa in their attempt to recover the globe and unlock its secrets.
Dutch director Jan de Bont (Speed, Twister) makes good use of the scenery – both Ms Jolie and the international locales – showcasing the beauty and the danger of each. A nicely staged gun battle involves inventive use of a neon sign and a pole vault to a helicopter; another scene shows the couple “flying” over the skyline of Shanghai. In both cases de Bont actually shows us the action. If Charlie’s Angels director McG had shot those scenes we would have seen a glimpse of the helicopter blade, a quick cut of someone flying through the air and heard the whoosh of a bullet as it cut through the air. My major complaint with recent action sequences is that we don’t actually get to see anything. It’s all fast cuts and loud techno music. Jan de Bont avoids that trap, allowing the scenes to play out, and while sometimes they drag on a bit too long, at least we know what we are looking at.
Angelina Jolie plays Lara Croft like a Barbi doll come to life, batteries, but no heart included. She is powerful, sexy, agile, adventurous and no-nonsense (as Gerrard learns the hard way), but like the videogame character she is based on, doesn’t seem to have any emotional life under the pretty façade. Unlike that other famous cinematic archaeologist, the quirky Indiana Jones, there is no vulnerability to Croft at all.
Jolie’s beautiful face is a blank slate, expressionless for most of the film with only the occasional arching of an eyebrow to remind us that a real person lives beneath her perfect skin. Perhaps in the foreseeable Lara Croft Tomb Raider 3: The Saga Continues In More Exotic Lands she will transcend her computer generated origins, and we’ll get a glimpse of the real person behind that raised eyebrow.
Lara Croft Tomb Raider: The Cradle of Life is like its name, a bit too long, and kind of silly, but a vast improvement on its predecessor.
Based on a Booker Prize winning novel by Graham Swift, Last Orders examines the way people express their grief when a close friend passes away. Jack (Michael Caine) dies, leaving behind his childhood friends (Bob Hoskins, David Hemmings and Tom Courtenay), a wife (Helen Mirren) and reserved son (Ray Winstone). His friends and son take his ashes to Margate, a two-hour drive outside of London. Along the way, through flashbacks, we learn of the complex roles that these men have played in each other’s lives. Although it is a heartbreaking ride, there is nothing morose about this movie. The old friends argue and tell jokes, remembering Jack in their own unique ways. The common thread being that while they are sad he died, they are even happier that he had lived and graced their lives. The superior acting skills of Hoskins, Hemmings, Courtenay and Winstone rescue the film from director Fred Schepisi’s languid direction. Helen Mirren (who doesn’t accompany the guys on their ash-scattering mission) shines in her scenes with her hospitalized daughter. If only Schepisi had picked up the pace a little this could have been a real winner. As it is Last Orders is only marginally recommended.
A better title for this movie would have been Legally Bland. The makers of the sequel to 2001’s surprise hit comedy Legally Blonde seem to have pushed the new film through the dreaded “movie de-flavourizer,” sucking all the charisma, fun and worst of all, the humour, out of the script. Even Reese Witherspoon, who charmed her way into the Hollywood a-list as pretty-in-pink Elle Woods in the first instalment, seems flat and uninspired.
The story, such that it is, holds a bit of comedic promise. Woods, the not-so-ditzy blonde, wants to invite the mother of her closet friend to her upcoming wedding. That friend is, of course her dog Bruiser, and unfortunately the mother is trapped in an animal testing facility. After trying to convince her stuffy law firm to take action against the laboratory, and getting herself fired in the process, she decides to take on Washington. From here on in the movie follows the pattern established by the original, minus the jokes. As Elle tries to get an animal rights bill passed in congress she is pitted against a series of sit-com worthy characters that are eventually won over by the perky fashionista.
It’s all very trite, which is fine, this is a summer teen movie after all, but the complete absence of chuckle worthy material makes what should have been a light and airy film float like a lead balloon. Not even the reliable Bob Newhart as the wise doorman can wrestle a laugh out of this script.
Making a sequel can be a nasty, unforgiving business – in this case the original was as sweet and gooey as pink cotton candy while Legally Blonde 2: Red, White and Blonde is a sugarless retread.
I hate it when actors that I really like appear in terrible movies. On paper Levity sounds like it might have something going for it. Billy Bob Thornton, an actor who in 2001 alone handed in three very good but very different performances in The Man Who Wasn’t There, Monster’s Ball and Bandits. He’s versatile and not afraid to take risks. Morgan Freeman is a journeyman who is always good, even when the material is beneath him. Director Ed Soloman is best known as a comedy writer, having made us giggle with the Bill and Ted movies as well as the first Charlie’s Angels film. Why then would he step out of his field to write and direct a painstakingly earnest movie about an ex-con’s search for redemption? And how is it possible to take two actors that I really like, Thornton and Freeman and make them almost unwatchable? This is what happens when an inexperienced director decides to make an art-house film. Don’t be fooled by the title, there isn’t a laugh in sight. The inappropriately named Levity limps along for ninety minutes, with the only compelling action happening just seconds before the credits roll. To paraphrase my co-host Geoff Pevere, the only thing this movie did was bring me 100 minutes closer to my death.
The Slevin of the title is an unfortunate guy played by Josh Hartnett who happens to find himself in the wrong place at the wrong time and winds up involved with some very bad men. With the help of a curious neighbor, a world-weary hit man and two warring crime bosses he tries to extricate himself from this messy situation.
This is a hard-boiled crime drama in the vein of The Usual Suspects and Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, which means that it is bloody, darkly funny and will keep you guessing. The film is a bit of a roller coaster ride of mistaken identities and convoluted plotlines, but near the end when the labyrinthine story starts to fall into place, revealing surprising connections and unlikely alliances the movie pays off.
The script sometimes veers off in Tarantino land with too many clever pop culture references to comic books and old movies, and over-written unusually articulate gangsters, but the actors here rise above the script. Ben Kingsley and Morgan Freeman both play mafia kingpins with gusto, chewing the scenery so much I feared that Kingsley might actually bite through the screen. Bruce Willis makes the best of his usual cool-guy persona, this time as a hit man, and Josh Hartnett, an actor who seems to have been teetering on the edge of stardom for a while now, gives the most likeable and best performance of his career so far.
Lucky Number Slevin isn’t destined to become a classic genre picture in the way that The Usual Suspects of Memento have, but it is a cool movie with really fun performances.
Albert Brooks stars in the movie with the most audacious title of the season. In the film the comedian is called upon to attend a secret State Department meeting regarding the shape of humor in the Muslim world. His mission, should he accept it, is to spend a month in India and Pakistan and then write a 500-page report on what tickles the Muslim funny bone. What seems to be a plum government assignment is soon revealed to be less than ideal as Brooks begins his travels in hospitality class and finds himself stuck in an office behind a large call center in New Delhi.
The premise of this mockumentary is to shatter the idea that Muslim equals terrorist in the post 9/11 world. Brooks attempts this not with sharp satire, but with the loping rhythms of his understated comedy. In the end all we really discover that humor is global even if the things that make North Americans laugh leave Indian audiences straight faced.
Brooks is a legendary comedy writer, and his self-depreciating humor relies on a perfect set-up to really drive the punch line home. Looking for Comedy is a great premise looking for a great way to present the comedy. There are funny lines and several funny situations—such as when Brooks auditions for the lead role in Harvey for director Penny Marshall—but the movie as a whole doesn’t hold together and as a viewer I found myself looking for the comedy in Looking for Comedy in the Muslim World.
“The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones,” is a young adult action adventure that feels like a K-Tel version of some of the most popular movies of the last few years. The movie, based on the popular books by Cassandra Clare, Frankensteins the best of “Harry Potter”—Dumbledore’s son, Jared Harris, even makes an appearance—and “Twilight.” The only things missing are Harry’s cloak of invisibility and Bella’s ennui.
When typical teen Clary Fray (Lily Collins) witnesses a murder at a club called the Pan Demon Inn she is catapulted into a strange world where half human, half angel assassins called Shadowhunters stalk and kill demons. Meanwhile at home her mother Jocelyn (Lena Headey) has been attacked and abducted by deputies of Valentine (Jonathan Rhys Meyers), the power hungry demon slayer who believes she knows the location of the shadowhunters’ Holy Grail, the Mortal Cup.
Clary soon learns the man she saw murdered at the club was a demon, slain by wise cracking shadowhunter Jace (Jamie Campbell “cheekbones” Bower), and that she isn’t a “mundane,” (or, if you’re a Potterhead, a muggle), but a powerful shadowhunter who must not only rescue her mother but also keep the Mortal Cup from falling into the wrong hands.
“City of Bones,” the first in a proposed series, pinches the supernatural love triangle and benevolent werewolf characters from the “Twilight” series, the Hogwartian Shadowhunter Institute and much of the mythology from “Harry Potter,” but, despite the overall sense of déjà vu, it also provides a number of PG thrills and chills between the mushy scenes.
While it doesn’t have the immediate appeal of its sires, with its developed mythology–bring a notebook, there’s loads of new lingo–and sequel-ready ending, it looks to have to legs. Favoring the gothic over the gushy, its hard to know if it will strike the same chord as “Twilight,” but like a Hammer film for kids, it may have more appeal to boys than Stephenie Meyer’s supernatural romances.
“The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones” feels derivative, but like a K-Tel record it strings familiar elements together in an entertaining way.
How do you make a movie for kids about monsters whose job it is to scare children without doling out nightmares along with the price of a ticket? That’s the fine line Pixar treads with their new film, “Monster’s University,” a very kid friendly mix of “Bad News Bears,” (without the drunk coach), “Mean Girls” (without the unadulterated nastiness) and “Carrie” (without the murderous rage).
Starring the voices of Billy Crystal, John Goodman, Steve Buscemi and Helen Mirren, instead, it features strong messages and more complex characters than usual for a kid’s flick.
In this prequel to “Monsters Inc.” Mike Wazowski is a one-eyed–actually he’s mostly eye–green monster whose dream is to scare unsuspecting kids and capture their screams. Enrolling in the Harvard of Horror, Monster’s University, he’s a good student, devouring books on the five essential components of a scary roar and the like, but there’s a problem. He’s not as scary as his classmates, particularly Sullivan (Goodman), a blue beast with a family background in haunting kid’s dreams. In fact, he’s not scary at all. But determined to prove everyone wrong, Mike and the misfits of Oozma Kappa compete in the Scare Games, a spooky showdown to determine which frat house is the most gruesome.
There’s nothing particularly scary about “Monster’s University.” Very young viewers might be disturbed by the dramatic entrance of Mrs. Hardscrabble (Mirren), a winged dragon lady who scurries around on insect legs, but by and large the key word here is fun not fright.
The animation is top notch with creature designs that bring to mind plush toys. This campus full of multi-headed girls and tentacled boys, with blue, green and red skin that feels like Dr. Seuss gone wild. It’s fanciful eye candy that kids should love.
With the visuals comes messaging about perseverance, bullying and the virtues of honesty all set in an utterly unique world of Pixar’s creation. The story may be a prequel and have call-backs to other films but director Dan Scanlon pushes the story into unexpected territory. A predictable ending is avoided, and even though it forwards the iffy notion–MILD SPOILER!!!–that life experience is more valuable than school, it brings the movie to a satisfying conclusion.
“Monster’s University” once again exerts Pixar’s dominance in animation by giving audiences great characters and taking equal care with the visuals and the story.
This slow moving Mississippi river-set movie features infidelity, murder and theft, but at its heart it isn’t really about any of those things.
Not Really. Instead it’s a story about the things we do for love.
When two fourteen-year-old boys (Tye Sheridan and Jacob Lofland, who plays the excellently named Neckbone) discover a charismatic stranger named Mud (Matthew McConaughey) living on a remote island they get drawn into a dubious scheme to reunite the loner with his true love Juniper (Reese Witherspoon).
Methodical and moody director Jeff “Take Shelter” Nichols takes his time telling “Mud’s” coming-of-age story. The film’s pacing echoes the sleepy lifestyle of its rural setting, which some viewers might find too slow—especially amid the crash-boom-bang of summer blockbuster season—but the moody approach allows the story to explore the gritty moodiness of the titular character and the confusion of a young boy who believes that love trumps all.
The performances of the leads—McConaughey and child actor Tye Sheridan—are stellar and quietly effective.
McConaughey does take his shirt off, but this time around it’s part of his unique backstory and not an excuse for Kate Hudson (who is nowhere to be seen here) to widen her eyes and giggle at his abs. It’s another compelling performance—following “Bernie,” “The paperboy” and “Killer Joe”—that continues his acting rehabilitation after years of romantic comedy purgatory.
Also effective in supporting roles are Sam Shepard as a sharp shooting river rat and Michael Shannon who plays it remarkably straight here after a series of edgy performances in films like “The Runaways” and “Premium Rush.”
“Mud” is a small film about epic subjects—true love, loyalty and the nature of friendship—that has a much clearer world view than its title might suggest.
