Usually the scariest thing about Vin Diesel is the amount of money his movies make. The Fast and Furious franchise has raked in more than $4 billion. Add in revenue from Guardians of the Galaxy and Riddick and you have a truly terrifying amount of money.
In his new film, The Last Witch Hunter, the raspy-voiced actor boasts, “You know what I’m afraid of? Nothing,” as he delivers scares playing an immortal warrior who must prevent evil New York witches from destroying the world. The 48-year-old is so convinced the movie will do well, he’s already announced that the studio is developing a sequel.
“The first one doesn’t hit theatres until October 23rd,” he wrote on Facebook in July, “yet they want me to commit and already block out time to film it.”
Before Fast and Furious made him Hollywood’s version of an ATM, Diesel made baby steps towards becoming a superstar. Director Steven Spielberg saw Multi-Facial, Diesel’s self directed, written, produced and scored über low budget short film and was so taken with the young actor he had the role of Private Caparzo in Saving Private Ryan specially written for him. The result was an effective performance that mixed physicality with poignancy. Winning the role, he says, was “like one of those Hollywood fairy tales that you never believed.”
Critics began to take notice. New York Times critic A.O. Scott said he, “may be the sexiest ugly man in movies since Anthony Quinn” as Diesel lent his distinctive gravelly voice to the title character in the animated film The Iron Giant and played streetwise stockbroker Chris Varick in the 2000 stockbroker drama Boiler Room.
His breakout performance came with the sci-fi film Pitch Black. “Richard B. Riddick,” he says by way of introduction. “Escaped convict. Murderer.” Artificial eyes allow Riddick to see in the dark, making him very useful when bloodthirsty creatures attack during a month-long eclipse. The character became a franchise for the actor, spawning sequels, video games and animated films.
“I know it sounds corny but I feel like I learn about myself when I play that character,” said Diesel. “Going to that dark isolated place produces some kind of vision or understanding about myself. He mirrors my own quest for identity, my eternal quest as a child.”
Movies like Knockaround Guys and Babylon A.D. played on his tough guy persona, but with The Pacifier he tried to switch from cracking ribs to tickling funny bones. Playing a Navy Seal assigned to protect a house full of out-of-control kids, he attempted to prove he was more than just a muscle mass that got lucky in pictures. The chaotic comedy made some money, but ultimately proved Diesel’s strength lay in muscle, not mayhem.
Since then he has stayed the course, pumping out action-adventure films — including the soon-to-be relaunched xXx — proving himself to be a great action star. Smarter than Stallone, younger than Schwarzenegger and with even less hair than Bruce Willis, his appeal transcends his biceps, as he also appears to have a brain in his head. Throw in a large dollop of charisma and look out Jason Statham, you’re about to be kick boxed into the old age home.
Dean Norris is best known for portraying police officers. “I play DEA, CIA, FBI, LAPD; I got ‘em all,” he once said. He became instantly recognizable to a generation of TV fans as the boisterous DEA agent Hank Schrader on Breaking Bad, and in his new film he’s once again playing a cop, but with a twist.
“You almost feel sorry for him,” says Norris, “until you realize who he is.”
The film is Remember, a road movie of sorts. Christopher Plummer plays Zev, a man on a journey to justice, a quest to find the Nazi guard who killed his family 70 years before. Along the way he meets Norris as Officer Kurlander, a sad and lonely man with a connection to one of Zev’s suspects.
Their explosive meeting is difficult to discuss without giving away a plot point, but suffice to say Norris reveals when he had a chance to watch it he did so with his hands covering his face.
“We had three cameras going and I was like, ‘Just run them and let me hit it,’” says the fifty-two-year-old actor. “It was one of the few times where I almost felt out of body. You know when you see red and get kind of blinded? I’m not even sure what I said some of the time.”
Norris credits his director and co-star with making the five-day filming of the wild sequence possible.
“(Atom Egoyan) does what the good directors do,” he says, “and makes a comfortable space for you to play in and feel safe, which was important on this damn thing because it is so crazy. You want to feel safe to be able to go to wherever you have to go to, and I did with him.”
Norris describes Plummer as one of the greats. “It was like working with Laurence Olivier.”
“It was a pleasure to watch him,” he says. “There would be moments where I’d be in the scene and saying to myself, ‘I’m looking into the eyes of a man who has been in these scenes for decades. Been in the moment with unbelievable people in unbelievable movies.’ It’s like I wanted that to seep into me. Steal his essence.
“It’s a memory I’ll have for the rest of my life.”
There haven’t been many laughs coming out of Afghanistan lately and I’m sad to report the new Bill Murray comedy, “Rock the Kasbah,” doesn’t rectify that situation.
Murray plays Richie Lanz, a rock ‘n’ roll manager who’s been around so long he worked with Eddie Money back when he was still known as Eddie Mahoney. Based out of a dowdy home office in Van Nuys, California, he only has one real client, cover band singer Ronnie (Zooey Deschanel). When the offer of a USO tour of Afghanistan pops up he jumps at the chance but almost as soon as they land Ronnie splits, taking Richie’s cash and passport.
Stranded, he parties with American gun runners, the self titled Ammo Kings of Kabul (Scott Caan & Danny McBride), hangs out with a hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold (Kate Hudson) and before finally hiring a mercenary named Bombay Brian (Bruce Willis) to smuggle him out of the country.
To raise Bombay’s fee he agrees to smuggle ammunition into the rural Paktia province. When things go wrong he winds up in a small village where he hears the beautiful voice of Salima (Leem Lubany), an Afghan girl who sings Cat Stevens’ songs in secret. Always a hustler, Richie isn’t going to let the lack of credentials stop him from plying his trade. Sensing her talent he takes her on, guiding her through to the top of Afghan Star, an American Idol knock-off.
Everybody loves Bill Murray. That is a fact. Unarguable. He has woven himself into the fabric of popular culture both on screen and off. If he’s not opening a movie he’s going viral, getting videoed at some random dude’s bachelor party providing marital advice. He’s everywhere and is usually a welcome presence but lately I’ve begun to feel that his career is in a bit of a “Groundhog Day” loop. Time after time he has returned to a familiar formula: crabby guy alienates everyone around him only to have a warm and cuddly epiphany by the time the credits role. Frank Cross, Phil Connors, Vincent MacKenna or Richie Lanz, the character names change but their journeys are essentially the same.
Normally audiences don’t care, Murray is such an icon it’s enough for him to simply show up and snark his way through a few funny lines and VIOLA! instant classic. It’s a crowd-pleasing recipe but it runs dry in “Rock the Kasbah.” Strapped with an improbable and occasionally insulting premise (although it is VERY loosely based on the true story of Setara Hussainzada) and a third act twist into misplaced social commentary Murray’s charm falls flat. With his message of tolerance director Barry Levinson certainly has his heart in the right place but the movie is off key and unfunny.
Vin Diesel looks good for an 800 year-old-man… er… immortal witch hunter. He’s Kaulder, a former mortal whose family was wiped out by the Witch Queen’s (Julie Engelbrecht) deadly black plague. The only way to destroy her is to still her beating heart, but before he can do so she places a hex on him. With all his family gone he has nothing to live for, so she curses him with immortality.
Centuries later he’s a supernatural superman, living in a swank Central Park South apartment and bedding flight attendants when he’s not subduing bad witches. Known as “the Weapon,” he works with a Dolan—a spiritual advisor—and helps enforce the uneasy truce that has been struck between witches and humans. When Dolan 36 (Michael Caine) steps down and winds up dead within twenty-four hours (“I’ve seen people get old, retire and die but rarely on the same day,” Kaulder says.) the hunter knows evil forces are at work. With the aid of Dolan 37 (Elijah Wood) and an unlikely witch ally (“Game of Thrones” star Rose Leslie) Kaulder seeks to finally put an end to an ancient evil.
“You know what I’m afraid of?” asks Kaulder. “Nothing. It’s boring really.” And so is “The Last Witch Hunter” because nothing remotely scary happens. It’s as though the film was originally written as a straight ahead action movie. Here’s the pitch: Gravelly-voiced man fights the baddies with the help of an aging mentor and a sidekick. It’s the generic hero’s journey. It’s “The Dark Knight” without the cape (but with Michael Caine). It feels like someone read the script early on and said, “You know what would make this great? Witches and Vin Diesel,” but even the addition of supernatural elements like Dreamwalkers, cranky witches and immortality can’t disguise the fact that this is as generic an action movie as we’ve seen this year.
It follows a familiar pattern: Action scene followed by witch hunting mumbo jumbo that segues into a fight scene. Reset with a buddy, buddy scene featuring dialogue like, “You’re not qualified for what happens next.” Add to the mix flashbacks, light romance and loud special effects and you have every generic action movie ever made… with witches.
Diesel is fast and furious enough to deliver the “Conan the Barbarian” level dialogue (like: “The benefit of eternal life is that I get to kill you twice!”) with conviction but the movie is dull enough you’ll wish these witches would go away for a spell.
With a cast headlined by Christopher Plummer and Martin Landau, Atom Egoyan’s new film “Remember” brings over 150 years of acting experience to the screen. Plummer is Zev, a man set on delivering justice to the Nazi guard who killed his family 70 years before. Plummer and Landau are both Academy Award winners and early buzz suggests they may both earn Oscar attention again for this film.
Revenge is on Max’s mind of (Martin Landau). After a lifetime of bring Nazis to justice with the Simon Wiesenthal Center, he’s now an octogenarian living in a senior’s home confined to a wheelchair. An Auschwitz survivor, he has made it his life’s work to “find the man responsible for the murder of my family,” but time is running out and there is one last name left on his list, Rudy Kurlander. Trouble is, there are multiple Kurlanders who fit the profile. In the dying days of World War II SS soldiers stole the identities of their victims and four Rudy’s emerged in the aftermath. One is an alias for the man responsible for the deaths of Max’s family.
To track down and dispatch Kurlander Max recruits Zev (Christopher Plummer), a ninety year-old widower from the senior’s home. Like Max, Zev was at Auschwitz and as the last living survivors from the prison block is, as Max tells him, “the only person left who can recognize the face of the man who murdered our families.” Despite a failing memory—“Sometimes I forget things,” Zev says.—Zev embarks on the search for Kurlander, armed with a detailed letter from Max to remind him of the operation’s details and a loaded Glock.
“Remember” is a road movie, a journey to justice. Along the way we meet several Rudy Kurlanders, a neo Nazi with a dog named Eva and several very helpful hotel clerks. Despite the constantly changing scenery and situations the constant is Christopher Plummer in a remarkable performance as a man on a mission. Struggling, he methodically works his way through the list, years of anger bubbling under the surface. He’s genteel—“Let us not argue,” he says while holding a gun on one of the Rudys. “We are too old for lies.”—but deeply wounded by events that he can now barely remember. Plummer conveys it all, confusion, anger, fear, resignation and in one extraordinary scene, deep sorrow as he shares a tender moment with one of the Kurlanders.
Egoyan parcels out the story carefully, building tension to an explosive climax. The thrills come with the search, but “Remember’s” main buzz comes from Plummer’s heartfelt and assured performance as a man struggling to reconcile the past with the present.
Imagine if your worldview only extended ten feet in all directions, with a skylight as your only view into the world beyond your walls. That’s the situation Jack (Jacob Tremblay), the five-year-old son of Ma (Brie Larson) finds himself in. He wakes up every morning to greet the only things he knows to be real. “Hello table,” he says. “Hello sink, hello bathtub.” A backyard is something he’s only ever seen on television and when he asks, “Where do we go when we dream?” Ma says, “Nowhere, we’re always here.”
Based on Emma Donoghue’s Man Booker Prize-shortlisted novel of he same name, “Room” dramatizes the inner-dialogue of the book, walking us through the claustrophobic story of a woman abducted by an abuser she calls Old Nick (Sean Bridgers). He locks her away in a small soundproof shed for seven years, making regular conjugal visits, the result of which is Jack, a sweet natured boy born into captivity.
Days after celebrating Jack’s fifth birthday, Ma tells him he’s old enough now to help her fool Old Nick and possibly escape their prison. “I want to be four again,” he says, but agrees to go along with the audacious plan. If the plan works they will be free again, but what will life beyond their ten-foot-by-ten-foot box be like?
“Room’s” first hour is claustrophobic, but when Ma and Jack are onscreen together, filled with warmth. They have a bond that goes beyond the usual mother-son connection—she’s the only person Jack has ever communicated with—and the film does a good job at fleshing out their relationship. The connection between them turns the film into a story of a mother’s love rather than a ripped-from-the-headlines tale of abduction and abuse.
The film’s second half reveals the effects of Old Nick’s long term abuse, the post traumatic stress of seven years of subverting yourself to the whims of a captor. The two halves of the story are bound by remarkable performances from Larson and Tremblay. Larson is vulnerable and fierce, simultaneously, doing what she must to protect and raise her child. Similarly Tremblay’s performance is modulated between temper tantrums, wonder and bewilderment as he learns about finding his place in a world that didn’t know he existed.
“Room” is a tearjerker that occasionally makes too much room for melodrama and on-the-money dialogue, but is captivatingly told nonetheless.
“I’m a good boy from a good family,” says Agu (Abraham Attah), the preteen protagonist of the drama “Beasts of No Nation.” His father is a teacher, his mother a churchgoing woman. Big brother is a muscle-head teen with a crush on local girl.
As civil war comes to his village (in an unnamed African country), summary executions become common and soon Agu is left alone and on a run for his life. He finds a new family as a child soldier under a rebel Commandant (Idris Elba). “A boy is very, very dangerous,” he says. “He has two eyes to see, two hands to strangle and fingers to pull a trigger. Leave this in my charge. I will be training him to be a warrior.”
The Commandant is charismatic leader, a master of indoctrination and brainwashing who weaves a protective web around the young boy, creating a family unit for the boy as he turns him into a killer. Agu is convinced the very real war is personal; it’s a battle against the people who killed his father. He ‘s taught the art of cruelty, how to hack a man to death with a machete and kill people by inserting grenades into their mouths.
The trip into the heart of darkness is sidelined by the Commandant’s own journey into Colonel Kurtz territory. Disillusioned, Agu begins to understand “the only reason we are fighting anymore is to be dying.”
“Beasts of No Nation” is a harrowing experience. It’s not the kind of movie you leave the theatre saying, “I really enjoyed that.” Instead, it’s an experience, an unforgiving film that begins by allowing us to get to know Agu’s family before tragedy strikes, then torments us with the terrifying sound of gunfire heard from inside a hiding place before showing us Agu’s descent into a hellish kind of survival. It’s ruthless and brutal, perhaps best summed up in the plainspoken words of the boy himself. “I saw terrible things and I did terrible things.” Be prepared, he may be a lot of things, but he’s not a liar.
Guillermo del Toro’s love letter to both V.C. Andrews and Edgar Allen Poe is a beautifully crafted gothic horror that will make you squirm in your seat as your eyeballs dance around the wonderfully appointed screen.
It takes the elements of gothic literature—love transcending death, seductive strangers—and the weirdness we expect from del Toro—haunted houses, ghosts, vats of blood and even incest—to create a whole that is one of the most singular films of the year.
Period-piece It Girl Mia Wasikowska is Edith Cushing, daughter of a Buffalo, New York construction magnate. She’s a writer, penning a story of ghosts and love, when she is swept away by a mysterious stranger. Thomas Sharpe (Tom Hiddleston) and his sister Lucille (Jessica Chastain) are British gentry in America to raise money to perfect and build a machine to mine the rich, crimson red clay that lies under their family estate. Edith is immediately taken with Mr. British Tall Dark and Handsome, leaving her previous suitor Dr. Alan McMichael (Charlie Hunnam) behind.
Soon they are married and off to Sharpe’s family estate, nicknamed Crimson Peak because in the winter the red clay it sits on turns the snow a lurid shade of cerise. The crumbling building holds many secrets in its rotting walls, secrets Edith must unravel if she is to survive.
Bloody and by times bloody terrifying, every frame of “Crimson Peak” drips with del Toro’s Grand-Guignol sensibility. Madness and murder are front and center, coupled with arch performances—Chastain in particular embodies the Hammer Horror style of wild-eye-acting—and the director’s flawless instinct for creating unease in the audience. It’s a transport to another world, a place where the ground seeps red and old houses moan in the wind. With atmosphere to burn it’s an operatic companion piece to “The Devil’s Backbone” and “Pan’s Labyrinth” that plays like a fever dream.
As many of you know Andrea and I officially hitched up this week in a small, private ceremony at Sardis on 44th Street in New York City. The “I do’s” took place under the knowing gaze of dozens of Broadway caricatures in “The Little Bar,” the small room on the main floor where we first sat many years ago on our first visit to Sardis. It’s our favourite watering hole in NYC and we were thrilled when Andrea’s parents Ron and Angela joined old friends of mine, John and Gina for the actual tying of the knot in the space where we have shared so many memorable moments.
Want to go to Sardis but not get married? Do it. It’s like walking into an episode of Mad Men without the cigarette smoke and Don Draper’s bad attitude. Ask Jeremy for a Bloody Mary. They’re fantastic, and so is he. He’s Jeremy Wagner, King of the Bartenders and our much-loved mixologist (although Sardis is WAY too old school to use such a term) who graciously took a break from pouring cocktails to be our witness.
It truly was everything we hoped for despite Andrea whispering in my ear, “This is weird,” about one second before our officiant Alice Solway started the vows. It was weird. I guess after fourteen years it felt strange to stand up in front of everyone and verbalize what everyone already knows about us, but that is part of what makes it important and special. And weird.
The day went by in a blur. Andrea looked beautiful in a Vera Wang dress. My shoes were so shiny you could see them from space. We took pictures with a slightly tipsy Elmo in Times Square and an epic photo with Chewbacca, Iron Man and Cat Woman. My shiny gold brocade jacket—it can only properly be described as a relic from the Sammy David Jr. 1968 Comeback Special—and Andrea’s bejewelled pumps sparkled in the neon glow of 44th Street.
Thanks to John and Gina who drove many, many miles to share the day with us. It was so special to have them there. John and I have known one another since we were foetuses and no matter how many years pass we still behave like kids. Gina took over 1600 photographs! She was both the official documentarian and spreader of the most delicious pub cheese in the world. They helped make an already special time even more special. Isn’t that special?
Ron and Angela have literally known Andrea since she was a foetus and the day would not have been complete or as extraordinary without them there.
It was a big day. I discovered that when you parade a beautiful woman around in a wedding dress in any of the five boroughs it is impossible to pay for a drink. I also discovered how gracious and wonderful all my Facebook friends are. You guys showered us with good wishes and it really meant a great deal to us to know that people, worldwide, were sending good vibes our way. You know what? It worked. We had a perfect week in New York, topped by a day I will never forget.
The day after the wedding we went to the Comedy Cellar. It’s a legendary room and almost every time we go someone cool stops by to do an impromptu set. This time Ray Romano, who has an apartment down the block, stopped by. During his set he asked me if we were married. I said, “Yes, for about 26 hours.” He looked at us and said, “The first 12 hours is the best.”
He’s not entirely wrong. The first twelve hours was great… but I anticipate many more great hours, days, weeks, months and years.
