The message behind “Draft Day,” Kevin Costner’s last sports flick, is that technical ability is one thing, but having heart is just as important. It’s a key message for the story but also vital when considering the movie as a whole.
This film is technically proficient, but loads of technically proficient flicks aren’t as entertaining as this one. This movie works particularly well because it has heart, just like the players that Kevin Costner’s character recruits for his football team.
On the day of the NFL Draft, Cleveland Browns general manager Sonny Weaver Jr. (Costner) is faced with some tough choices. His team is not doing well, sports radio talking heads are beating him up for ruining the franchise his late father, the legendary coach Sonny Weaver Sr, built up and his girlfriend (Jennifer Garner) is angry with him. His future and possibly the future of the team hinges on one deal; a massive trade for hotshot quarterback Bo Callahan (Josh Pence).
Like “Moneyball,” “Draft Day” scores authenticity points by casting a number of sports figures and insiders playing themselves. Cleveland Browns Center Alex Mack appears as does San Francisco 49ers defensive player Delon Sanders, but it’s the supporting cast of professional actors who really score a touchdown.
Frank Langella, playing the anything-for-a-buck owner of the Browns plus Ellen Burstyn and Dennis Leary as Sonny’s mother and grumpy coach respectively, are all great. Sean Combs as a smarmy sports agant didn’t even bother me. But of course, this really is Kevin Costner’s movie. He’s easy to watch at the best of times but particularly so when he’s in the genre that works best for him, and that’s sports movies.
He plays Weaver much differently than Brad Pitt handled real life manager Billy Beane in “Moneyball.” Unlike Beane, who used an algorithm to put a team together, Weaver works on a combo of instinct, experience and guts, which makes for an all round more emotional trip for him and the audience. “There’s no such thing as a ‘sure thing,”” the movie tells us. “All that matters is your gut.”
Story wise this is a pure sports film, complete with lingo and all kinds of stats, but it’s also a mystery. As Weaver digs into Callahan’s past, questions arise, leaving the movie’s central bit of action—will Weaver draft Callahan or not—up in the air until the closing minutes of the movie. It’s not Hitchcock, but it will keep you guessing.
Sports illiterates might need subtitles to understand some of the goings on. For me it didn’t matter if I followed the intricacies of the trades because the underlying emotion that comes along with changing someone’s life by drafting them into the NFL is very powerful and well played here.
A late career make over as an action star with a particular set of skills worked for Liam Neeson, so why not for Kevin Costner. In “3 Days to Kill” Costner gets his Neeson on, starring in a Euro-thriller with unusual bad guys, a daughter and lots and lots of gunfire.
Ethan Renner (Kevin Costner) has a lot going on. After five years of dangerous undercover work away from his family he has been diagnosed with a terminal disease. He opts to spend his final months making amends with his estranged wife (Connie Nielsen) and daughter (Hailee Steinfeld) in Paris. His plan is disrupted when a mysterious CIA femme fatale (Amber Heard) turns up with an offer he can’t refuse. In exchange for an experimental drug that could save his life and a lump sum of cash he must go on a wild shooting spree in the City of Light, exterminating a very bad man called The Wolf (Richard Sammel) and his brutal enforcer The Albino (Tómas Lemarquis). Ethan is a family man and contract killer.
Unlike Neeson’s “Taken,” which reveled in its trashiness, “3 Days to Kill” isn’t cheeseball enough to provide the same kind of down-and-dirty fun. Director McG has pitched the movie as an uneasy mix of sentimentality and ultra violence. When Ethan isn’t ramming people with his car or grilling their hands in a sandwich press, he bonding with his daughter, trying to make up for lost time. He teaches her dance, ride a bike and even cuts a torture session short so he can have a meeting with her school principal.
There are some outlandish plot points—for instance, looking for advice about his daughter he goes to the home of a man he has just finished torturing to ask advice from the man’s teenaged girls—and the tone is jokey but unfortunately only about half the gags actually hit home.
Costner has a world weary, easy charm here that helps sell the humor and he appears comfortable with the action but “3 Days to Kill” is a little too generic overall to score with audiences who embraced Neeson’s leap into the action fray.
“Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit” is nothing fancy… and it’s also nothing Clancy.
As the first of the Ryan movies not based on a Tom Clancy novel it feels generic. There is the usual spy story intrigue, exotic locations and tense scenes but what the movie doesn’t have is the ear for dialogue of the other films in the series. When you have a senior CIA agent muttering the line, “This is geopolitics, not couple’s therapy,” it’s hard to know whether this is a satire of spy films or just badly written.
As played by Chris Pine (taking over from Alec Baldwin, Harrison Ford and Ben Affleck) CIA field agent Ryan discovers evidence of an upcoming terrorist attack. Leaving his jealous girlfriend (Kiera Knightley) behind, he is sent to Moscow to continue the investigation by Intelligence boss Agent Harper (Kevin Costner).
Dodging bullets and bad guys, he encounters Viktor Cherevin (Kenneth Branagh, who also sits in the director’s chair) an evil businessman with a plot to destabilize the global economy and create the “second Great Depression” in the United States.
Remember when Kenneth Branagh used to make movies like “Henry V” and “Hamlet”? I do too, which makes me feel a little empty inside when I watch something like “Shadow Recruit.”
This is a case of a director with no affinity for the material. It’s almost as if this was pieced together by people who had seen a lot of spy movies, but didn’t really understand them.
Like Branagh’s “Thor” movie, the action is muddled and so frenetically edited it’s often hard to see through the flashes of light on the screen to see who is punching who. A little clarity in those sequences would have gone a long way to make up for the ridiculous dialogue and under developed characters.
Branagh plays Cherevin with all the nuance of a Bond villain. He’s ruthless, flamboyantly accented and super smart. Smart enough to bring down the global economy but not smart enough, apparently, to see through Chris Pine’s terrible drunk act near the climax of the film.
Knightley is the movie’s third headliner, but you have to wonder why she would accept a role that gives her little to do except complain and go all moon faced over Ryan.
Then there’s Pine, who heroically anchors the “Star Trek” series but comes off here as a little too bland to play an international man of mystery.
“Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit” is the first Ryan movie after a twelve-year break. It wasn’t worth the wait.
Mr. Brooks stars Demi Moore and Kevin Costner. No, it isn’t some lost artifact from the early 1990s; it’s a tightly scripted, but slightly wonky new serial killer movie headlined by stars who were at the top of the form when the first George Bush was in office.
Costner takes a break from his usual nice guy routine to play the title role, Earl Brooks, a successful business man with a beautiful wife (Marg Helgenberger) and an even more beautiful home. His life seems perfect, but the far-away look in his eyes lets us know that everything is not right in Mr. Brooks’ world. You see, he’s an addict. He’s been on the straight and narrow for two years, but something is pulling at him. That something is Marshall (William Hurt) a mayhem loving imaginary friend who looks a great deal like the professor from Altered States.
Marshall convinces Mr. Brooks to indulge his bad habit one more time, letting loose the Mr. Hyde that Earl tries to keep under wraps. They don’t go on a drinking binge, start smoking or take drugs. Mr. Brooks is far too straight laced for any of that kind of behavior. You see, Mr. Brooks is addicted to killing, and Marshall is the bad influence who convinces him to stalk and kill innocent people. When the usually meticulous killer makes a mistake at the scene of the crime he opens himself up to scrutiny from not only a very determined police detective (Demi Moore), but also a wannabe homicidal maniac (Dane Cook) who blackmails Mr. Brooks into schooling him in the ways of the serial killing game.
We’ve seen the serial-killer-next-door scenario played out many times on screen, and as usual, in Mr. Brooks most of the female characters are underwritten. Helgenberger is wasted as Mrs. Brooks in a role that requires her to do little else than look good, while Moore’s determined cop routine, although well performed, is pretty standard stuff. In spite of its shortcomings Mr. Brooks has several points that vault it head and shoulders above the rest.
The story takes a few unexpected zigs and zags. Cook’s killer fan boy is a fun diversion and the seemingly red herring role of the daughter adds depth to the piece but it really is the performances of Costner and Hurt that make Mr. Brooks so entertaining to watch.
In Earl Brooks Costner, never an expressive actor, finds the perfect character fit for his acting style. Most of the time Costner’s bland approach undermines his characters, but Brooks is a man who controls his emotions, the blank look on his face hiding the barely controlled malevolence that wracks his brain. The actor’s dull exterior perfectly mirrors the image Mr. Brooks must portray to avoid being caught. This is a guy who looks like he couldn’t blow the foam off a glass of beer let alone put a bullet in someone’s head and that’s just as it should be.
William Hurt hands in a bravura turn as the evil alter ego who simply can’t contain his glee at the pandemonium he causes. He’s rotten to the core, but Hurt plays him more as a mischievous older brother who encourages his siblings to sneak a drink from dad’s liquor cabinet than a psychological force who pushes his host to commit heinous acts of murder.
A decade and a half ago these two actors almost co-starred in The Big Chill before Costner’s role ended up on the cutting room floor. Had that footage survived it would be interesting to see if they had the same kind of chemistry on-screen then as they do now. Mr. Brooks cooks with gas when those two do their evil twin routine.
Mr. Brooks isn’t on the same playing field as Silence of the Lambs or Psycho, but it is an interesting portrait of the killer next door.
Swing Vote is the kind of movie that Hollywood used to pump out by the truckload. Directors like Frank Capra and Preston Sturges had a corner on patriotism, cranking out movies about ordinary men and women who made a difference. While the politically patriotic film saw its heyday in the 1940s with Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and State of the Union only to be almost completely wiped out by post Watergate cynicism, this new film starring Kevin Costner as a regular man who holds the outcome of a Presidential election in his hands hopes to resurrect the genre.
Coster is single father Bud, a New Mexico egg factory worker who spends as much time drinking and hanging out with his friends as he does sorting eggs. His daughter, a precocious twelve-year-old named Molly (Madeline Carroll), is the true adult in their relationship, but in one impulsive moment she sets off a chain of events that conclude with Bud’s uncounted vote becoming the swing vote that will decide who becomes the next President of the United States. When both the Republican incumbant (Kelsey Grammer) and Democratic hopeful (Dennis Hopper) come to his small town of Texico, New Mexico to court his vote Bud and Molly learn hard lessons about how politics and the media really work. In the end, however, Bud learns the much more fundamental lesson that every vote counts.
Although Swing Vote’s story is as corny as anything Frank Capra ever committed to film its earnest message is relevant as the November McCain / Obama showdown looms and voter apathy is causing Democrats and others to have heart palpitations. As presented, the every vote matters mantra is heavy handed and a little bit old hat—but not untrue, just ask Al Gore—but Costner grounds the movie with a comic performance that keeps the light and airy story from floating off into the ether.
Costner isn’t known for his comedic skills. Bull Durham and Tin Cup aside, he has rarely used his light touch in such an obvious way. In his hands Bud is just this side of being a drunken good old boy caricature. He does pratfalls, bangs his head on low hanging signs and wears a perpetual goofy grin most commonly seen in the stands of Nascar races. His gradual realization that there is more to life than booze and good times seems a bit sudden, but Costner somehow manages to pull it off and even delivers the inevitable “I don’t understand much, but I know my country” speech with panache.
Unfortunately despite Costner’s charm the movie doesn’t quite work. Kelsey Grammer has a nice turn as the dim bulb President, and Dennis Hopper and Nathan Lane do their usual journeyman work but director Joshua Michael Stern has a hard time balancing all the disparate aspects of the story. As a co-writer he’s even handed in his treatment of the Republicans and Democrats—both sides are treated fairly and equitably—but the style of the film fluctuates wildly from jarring music video editing to laid-back Hal Ashby style rural landscapes to Paper Moon hi-jinks. If he had committed to one cinematic texture Swing Vote would be a better film.
I’m not sure if Canadian audiences will care about Swing Vote and its take on jingoistic American politics, but its heartfelt “rock the vote” message is a good one no matter where you live.
