In this time of economic downturn when banks seem to be responsible for leading the world down the financial rabbit hole The International may be the timeliest movie to come down the pike so far this year. Loosely based on the 1980s Bank of Credit & Commerce International banking scandal, the bankers portrayed in the film are evil, money hungry thugs who care more for money than people; the kind of guys who spend as much time pouring over Sun Tzu’s Art of War as they do ledgers. In other words exactly the people who recently brought Wall Street to its knees.
The fictional IBBC is an international banking concern that deals in more than cold hard cash. Instead of offering a toaster when you open an account these guys pony-up guns and missiles. By supplying arms and advanced weaponry to warring countries they hope to control the debt that war creates. “When you control the debt,” says the inscrutable Wilhelm Wexler (the great Armin Mueller-Stahl), “you control everything.” The only thing standing between IBBC and world domination is Louis Salinger (Clive Owen), an Interpol agent who’s part bank inspector à la It’s a Wonderful Life and part CSI: Luxembourg. When he and his American counter-part Eleanor Whitman (Naomi Watts) realize the only way to bring down the bank is to step outside the law the only question that remains is: Will the collateral damage be worth it?
Clive Owen plays his now patented steely character with a troubled past, a person we’ve seen him essay in everything from Sin City to Shoot ‘Em Up to Children of Men. He’s all guts and glory, the kind of guy who takes a beating but keeps on ticking. Owen has these characters down pat—the determined scowl and smoldering eyes—but is left hung to dry by a screenplay that seems to have been written by the patented Raymond Chandler Hard-boiled Detective Script Generator.
Not only does first time scriptwriter Eric Singer deliver a paint-by- numbers thriller but he saddles the actors with clumsy tough-guy dialogue that would have seemed corny in Humphrey Bogart’s day. Luckily director Tom Run Lola Run Tykwer has cast good actors like Owen and Mueller-Stahl because who else could deliver old hat lines like, “Sometimes the hardest decision in life is knowing which bridge to cross and which bridge to burn. I’m the one you burn,” without feeling a distinct sense of déjà vu.
Despite an implausible plot—the conspiracy, not the evil bankers part—Tykwer and cast pull some memorable moments from the thin material. It’s stylish, with some moments of great tension and a wild shoot-out in a New York landmark that almost justifies its two hour running time.
When The International shoots—that is expend thousands of rounds of ammo—it scores. The action is quite good; it’s just too bad the intrigue isn’t intriguing enough.
Inside Man is director Spike Lee’s take on a heist film, and predictably he puts his own spin on an old genre and offers up something unpredictable. It’s like an episode of Law and Order minus the order.
Lee forgoes the usual set-up for movies like this and gets us directly into the action. Five minutes into the movie we are inside the bank and the bad guys—led by the charismatic Clive Owen—have already taken control, closing off the building and taking hostages. On the outside a team of detectives led by Spike Lee regular Denzel Washington—they’ve made four movies together—tries to keep the situation under control.
It sounds rather standard, but Lee crafts a story in which the moral compass can’t find true north, and the good guys aren’t always good and maybe the bad guys aren’t as bad as they seem.
Also unexpected for a thriller of this kind is how much humor Washington and Owen bring to their roles. Their conversations crackle with sharp one-liners that diffuse some of the tension of the story.
In one effective scene Owen spends some time with the youngest hostage as the street-wise kid plays with a violent videogame on his PSP. Owen inspects the game that includes drive-by shootings, stabbings and most outrageously, a hand grenade stuffed into the mouth of a pedestrian. As the videogame character’s head explodes Owen says, “I’ll take you back to your Father. I think should have a word with him about that game.” It’s a humorous moment, but one also laden with social comment. In earlier films Lee has employed a heavier hand when trying to get his message across, but it seems he has learned that a spoonful of sugar can sometimes more effectively help the medicine go down.
Inside Man will keep you guessing until the end, and maybe even after you leave the theatre. Lee chooses not to tie up all the loose ends, and the film is more intriguing because of it.
For once a movie really lives up to its title. The name Shoot ‘Em Up is the perfect label for this action flick in which Clive Owen’s character uses 18 different guns, fires off countless rounds and spills (according to IMDB) 15 gallons of fake blood. Finally there’s some truth in advertising. Now the question is whether or not you want to rent a movie so over-the-top it makes Natural Born Killers look subtle.
Owen is the singularly named Smith (like Cher or Madonna only with big guns), a carrot-chomping transient with an extensive military background. He has stepped away from polite society in the hopes of leading his own, quiet life. Of course that hasn’t worked out for him—otherwise this movie would be called Leave ‘Em Alone. Instead of tranquility he finds himself embroiled in Byzantine political conspiracy, on the run with a baby and a prostitute (Monica Bellucci) all the while tracked by a bloodthirsty hit man named Hertz (Paul Giamatti) and a swarm of assorted bad guys.
Shoot ‘Em Up is kind of review proof. If it is crazy action you want then you’ll love it. If not, the frenetic pace and relentless bang bang of the movie will be headache inducing. It’s that simple.
I thought it was great mindless fun and at least features good actors—Owen and Giamatti are both Oscar nominees—who seem to be having fun shooting guns and uttering snappy one liners like, “Guns don’t kill people! But they sure help!”
Duplicity is a different kind of spy thriller. It’s a romantic comedy about espionage. Imagine if Rock Hudson and Doris Day had starred in Mission Impossible and you get the idea. Written and directed by Tony Gilroy, it stars Julia Roberts and Clive Owen—last seen on-screen together in 2004’s Closer—as romantically involved former secret agents who play a dangerous, sexy game with corporate secrets. It plays as high stakes screwball comedy with intrigue or Michael Clayton with laughs. Take your pick.
Roberts is Claire Stenwick, an experienced CIA officer looking for a change. Owen is MI6 agent Ray Koval, a charmer who can’t remember anyone’s name. Both have left the world of international intrigue for the infinitely more profitable task of corporate security. Together they launch an elaborate plan of corporate dirty tricks to steal a top secret formula that will revolutionize the cosmetics industry. As the plot thickens so do their feelings for one another, but the question remains, can people trained in duplicity ever truly trust one another? “Nobody trusts anyone,” says Ray, “we just cope to it.”
Told using flashbacks and stylish editing Duplicity is more interesting for its flashy look and interesting characters than it is for its jigsaw puzzle of a story. On the surface it is all flash; it has a very Ocean’s 11 vibe. There’s beautiful set design, effervescent camera moves, showy split screen effects and enough international settings to keep your eye entertained, which is a good thing because the wandering story of intrigue is too clever by half to be really engrossing. It’s a story that curves back into itself constantly throughout, leaving the audience wondering who they can trust—if anyone at all.
That’s a bit of a problem in a story that develops into a romance. The give-and-take interplay between Ray and Claire is funny the first time, cute the second time, but by their third and fourth “trust issues” discussion it wears a bit thin.
Luckily for us director Gilroy has done a great job of casting interesting actors. Owen and Roberts are witty and charming and more than capable of carrying the movie but the whole thing would sink like a stone without a distinguished supporting cast. With so many characters, double crosses and story threads to juggle it’s important for the filmmaker to present well defined but varied actors to help us keep things straight. Leading the supporting cast are Paul Giamatti and Tom Wilkinson as the cutthroat, competitive CEOs. Both make the guys who ran Enron look like humanitarians, and both are great fun. Other stand-outs include Broadway star Kathleen Chalfant as an undercover investigator and Dennis O’Hare as the giddy black ops expert Duke.
With its fun performances and stylish look Duplicity is a bit of fun despite its overlong running time and convoluted story.
This new film starring Clive Owen—the man who should have been James Bond—and Jennifer Aniston is a cautionary tale about staying faithful to your spouse and never, ever renting rooms in sleazy hotels. Part Fatal Attraction, part Hitchcock thriller Derailed stays on track through the set-up of the story, but as soon as the going gets rough the story, well, derails.
Owen plays a family man saddled with troubles at work and at home who hooks up with Lucinda, played by Jennifer Aniston, after meeting her on a commuter train. In a hormone induced rush they decide to consummate their illicit affair at a seedy hotel, only to be interrupted by a burglar who robs them and sexually assaults Lucinda. Things spiral out of control as the robber blackmails the couple and seems to have an unquenchable thirst for Owen’s money.
It wouldn’t be fair to reveal any more about the plot, but suffice to say it tries to keep the viewer of balance until the closing moments of the movie. The trouble is the script telegraphs most of the story’s surprises, providing a virtual roadmap for all the twists and turns that lay ahead. The other problem is the casting of the leads. Owen and Aniston are miscast as a wimpy, ineffectual man and femme fatale respectively. Owen, whose hangdog look perfectly captures the despair his character feels in his complicated home life, is simply too charismatic to play a believable dumb schmuck and Aniston, who hasn’t been in a thriller since 1993’s Leprechaun, has an innate sweetness that seems at odds with her character.
Last year there was a lot of talk that Clive Owen would be the next James Bond. At the time I thought he would be a perfect choice for the role. In retrospect I’m glad he didn’t get the part because A) Daniel Craig is terrific and B) if he had been playing Bond he likely wouldn’t have had the chance to make Children of Men.
Based upon the novel of the same name by British author PD James, Children of Men is set in England in the not so distant future. A television ad trumpets that the world has collapsed and social terror is the norm but “only Britain soldiers on.” Women have lost the ability to have babies, terrorism and civil war wracks most of the planet, and the youngest person in the world has just been killed in a bar fight.
Clive Owen plays Theo, an alcoholic who spikes his morning coffee with scotch on the way to his bleak, low-level bureaucratic job. He reluctantly becomes involved with a radical group run by his former girlfriend who recruits him to courier the world’s only pregnant woman to safety.
With this film director Alfonso Cuarón (best known as the filmmaker behind the art house hit Y tu mamá también and the mega smash Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban) proves that he is one of the best directors working today. The movie takes off like a rocket from its opening moments, shot in long takes that resemble a documentary. His sense of pacing, accentuated by many unexpected thrills is flawless.
Add to that a steely performance from Owen, terrific turns by Julianne Moore, Michael Caine, Chiwetel Ejiofor and Peter Mullan as a psycho detention camp guard and you have the best movie of the year.
Children of Men was the best Christmas present I got this year.
Clive Owen should be breathing the same air as George Clooney and Will Smith; that crystal clean A-lister air that only the rarified few ever get to sample.
He ought to be a massive movie star, but despite smouldering good looks and some big hits like Children of Men and The Inside Man, he isn’t.
Last year the Globe and Mail noted that Owen “remains just below popular radar” despite “critical acclaim for his acting chops.” He’s a Golden Globe and BAFTA winner and an Oscar nominee, so the acting chops aren’t in doubt, but being a movie star and being a good actor are not mutually exclusive. If so, Sam Rockwell and Casey Affleck would be superstars.
So why isn’t Owen in the mega leagues?
Partly by choice. It’s said that he prefers a quiet life in the coastal town of Harwich, England, with his wife of almost two decades and children, to walking a red carpet.
Fair enough, but I think the eclecticism of his choices prevents audiences from getting a handle on him.
This weekend, for instance, he plays a protective father who battles a bogeyman named Hollowface to protect his daughter in the horror film Intruders.
It’s not the first time he’s played a family man but in very different kinds of films, with varying portrayals.
In Trust he was a sensitive father shattered by his daughter’s involvement with an online predator and in The Boys Are Back he had to learn how to be a father to two kids he barely knew after his on-screen wife died.
Then there is the long list of action movies on his resumé. He has punched, kicked and shot his way through violent films that relied on cartoon theatrics like Shoot ’Em Up and Sin City, espionage thrillers like Killer Elite and The International and even spy comedies like The Pink Panther.
Then there are the swashbuckling period pieces like King Arthur and Elizabeth: The Golden Age, where he’s all ruffles and chain mail, and Gosford Park, a murder mystery set in 1932, where he plays Robert Parks, the valet to a wealthy land owner.
The only constants connecting Owen’s movies are his charisma — “I don’t ‘do’ emotion,” he says. “Emotions are overrated. I’m more interested in creating a presence” — and his acting ability. Mega star or not, no one can deny the guy has presence no matter what the role.
At this year’s TIFF, tough guy Clive Owen is showing a different side of his cinematic self. He doesn’t kick, punch or shoot his way through The Boys Are Back. The only pain he inflicts here is emotional.
Based on a true story, Owen plays Joe Warr, a top sportswriter with a perfect life. He travels the world covering sporting events, has a beautiful wife and a young child. When his wife is diagnosed with cancer and succumbs to the disease after a short fight, Joe’s life is turned upside down. The existence he knew disappears, replaced by a new reality that only makes the longing for his late wife all the more acute. When a son from his first marriage arrives, he must learn how to be a father to two kids he barely knows.
The Boys Are Back shows a side of Owen we haven’t seen for a while. He’s spent the past few years on the action tip, making movies like Shoot ’Em Up and Sin City, violent films that relied on cartoon theatrics but he hasn’t always just made movies that involve shooting and killing.
In Vroom, his big screen debut, Owen plays Jake, the sauve owner of a restored 1950s Chevrolet. Unemployed and unhappy, Jake, his friend Ringe (David Thewlis) and a middle-aged divorcee played by Diana Quick hit the open road to escape the crushing burden of Thatcher-era oppression. It’s a by-the-numbers road flick, but the young Owen is already showing his soon-to-be trademarked charisma.
More highbrow is Gosford Park, a murder-mystery period piece directed by the late, great Robert Altman. The film shows the murder from the POV of the guests and the servants. The murder, however, is a McGuffin, simply a ruse to tell a story about class distinctions in Britain. Appearing alongside every British actor in the English actor’s union, Owen plays Robert Parks, the valet to a wealthy land owner. It’s a sumptuous-looking movie, filled to the brim with fine acting and topped with a great performance from Owen.
Owen also proves he doesn’t need a gun to steal scenes in Century, another period piece that would make a great double bill with Gosford Park.
For the first time in recent memory Clive Owen isn’t relying on his physical side to carry a movie. He doesn’t kick, punch or shoot his way through “The Boys Are Back.” The only pain he inflicts here is emotional.
Based on a true story, Clive Owen plays Joe Warr a top sportswriter with a perfect life. He travels the world covering sporting events, has a beautiful wife and a young child. When his wife (Laura Fraser) is diagnosed with cancer and succumbs to the disease after a short fight Joe’s life is turned upside down. The existence he knew disappears, replaced by a new reality which only makes the longing for his late wife all the more acute. When a son from his first marriage arrives he must learn how to be a father to two kids he barely knows. “Shouldn’t the state intervene to make sure a woman looks after children?” he says. On a more mundane level, the housework comes as a shock, even though, as he says, “I’ve watched so much of it over the years.”
“The Boys Are Back” shows a side of Owen we haven’t seen for a while. He’s spent the last few years on the action tip, making movies like “Shoot ‘Em Up” and “Sin City,” violent films that relied on cartoon theatrics. They’re entertaining but “The Boys Are Back” is something different. It showcases Owen’s intensity but the theatrics have been packed away with the weapons and what’s left is an emotionally raw study of a man who learns that “life is a journey that must be traveled no matter how bad the road.”
The gravitas he brings to his action roles works well here as his character shifts from light hearted father to widowed single guardian of two. He shows his versatility, breaking fee of the typecasting that has kept him in action movies, and hands in his best performance since 2006’s “Children of Men.”
Equally impressive is Nicholas McAnulty as the six-year-old recipient of Joe’s questionable parenting skills. In his acting debut McAnulty gives a completely natural performance. Rupert Grint look-a-like George MacKay also fares well as a teen rebel who just wants to get to know his dad.
“The Boys Are Back” does a good job at showing what it is like to lose someone and have that person remain in your life even when they aren’t physically present. It is a study of grief and how to best deal with a sudden profound loss, but at the end of the day it is the performances that recommend the movie.
In this time of economic downturn when banks seem to be responsible for leading the world down the financial rabbit hole The International may be the timeliest movie to come down the pike so far this year. Loosely based on the 1980s Bank of Credit & Commerce International banking scandal, the bankers portrayed in the film are evil, money hungry thugs who care more for money than people; the kind of guys who spend as much time pouring over Sun Tzu’s Art of War as they do ledgers. In other words exactly the people who recently brought Wall Street to its knees.
