Fool’s Gold is a microcosm of star Matthew McConaughey’s career. His “Sexiest Man Alive” good looks make him a natural for romantic comedy, while his Greek God physique lends itself to action adventure roles. He done both before so Fool’s Gold should be a welcome hybrid of his particular skills. Unfortunately the combo of having to look good while romancing Kate Hudson and doing dangerous looking stunts is too much of a good McConaughey thing.
He stars as Ben Finnegan, professional beach bum and treasure hunter fixated on finding 40 chests of sunken treasure lost in 1714 off the coast of Florida. In the search for the booty he loses his wife Tess (Kate Hudson), their boat, and, by the time they actually start to search for the treasure, our attention.
The movie needs a treasure map of its own to find its way through the silly plot involving billionaire Nigel Honeycutt (Donald Sutherland), his celebutante daughter, Gemma (Alexis Dziena), a backer in the form of a violent rap star (Kevin Hart) and a rival treasure seeker with a preposterous Southern accent named Moe (Ray Winstone). Even these good actors can’t make this wannabe screwball comedy work.
Predictable in the extreme, with ham fisted direction, clumsily staged action sequences and a characterization of an African American rapper that crosses the line from stereotyping into something bordering on racism, Fool’s Gold takes a premise that could’ve worked—good looking people in bathing suits searching for gold in against a backdrop of sun and fun—and bungles it completely. Not even legendary treasure hunter Indiana Jones could find a good movie buried under this mess.
With its fabulous scenery—set in Florida it was actually shot in Australia—and a beautiful yacht where a good chunk of the action happens, Fool’s Gold looks like one of those movies that was actually much more fun for the cast to shoot than it is for the audience to watch.
Trust me, there’s no treasure to be found anywhere in this movie.
Failure to Launch has one of those titles that begs me to poke fun. I could call it Failure to Laugh or say Failure to Launch fails to launch, but I won’t because it is actually quite an amiable romantic comedy.
Sarah Jessica Parker does a riff on her Sex in the City character Carrie Bradshaw as a woman who specializes in coaxing grown men to leave the nest. Her clients are usually the parents of man-boys who have “failed to launch.” They still live at home well past the point where they should be out on their own doing their own laundry and cooking for themselves. Matthew McConaughey is a handsome, successful thirty-something who still lives with his folks and has major relationship issues. She is hired to lure him out of his childhood bedroom, but of course there are complications.
Along the way we meet the usual rom-com suspects—his goofy friends, her slightly crazy roommate—while the story progresses in a paint-by-numbers way. There are no surprises here, just a few laughs and good-looking people falling in love, which is just as it should be otherwise this wouldn’t be a romantic comedy but a romantic tragedy.
Failure to Launch has an odd premise that wouldn’t happen in real life. As the story unfolded I had to wonder why McConaughey’s parents would go through such a complicated and potentially damaging scheme, so obviously doomed to failure to get rid of him rather than just talk to him. Of course if they did that there wouldn’t be much of a movie.
Failure to Launch is a good romantic comedy with a bad name.
A quick on-line search will reveal something interesting about the posters for some of Matthew McConaughey films. The artwork for Failure to Launch, How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days and his new one, Ghosts of Girlfriends Past are all the same! The female faces have changed along the way, but Mr. McConaughey’s pose remains fixed—back to the girl, leaning on his co-star with a cocky grin on his face. I know movie stars are particular about how they like to be photographed, but surely a man of Mr. McConaughey’s physical charms could come up with a more original pose. But if it isn’t about vanity then it must be something else. After watching Ghosts of Girlfriends Past I knew what it was—the posters are all the same because THE MOVIES ARE ALL THE SAME! Eureka! Not since Drew Barrymore has one actor recycled a rom com formula so shamelessly, or so often.
This time out McConaughey is Connor Mead, a womanizing photographer who “swims in a lake of sex” every night. He believes love makes you weak and marriage is a corrupt and hateful institution that should be abolished. While at his brother’s wedding strange things start to happen—he is confronted by his past, present and future. His past, in the form of his lifelong friend and onetime paramour Jenny Perotti (Jennifer Garner), is very real, but all others may be figments of his drunken imagination—this guy drinks scotch like a sailor on shore leave—or are they some kind of divine intervention to force him to feel things he “hasn’t felt in a long time, like feelings”?
I don’t usually judge movies before I see them, but this one just had stink written all over it, from the bad title to the crappy trailer. When I found out that it was originally supposed to star Ben Affleck but was shelved after Gigli stunk up theaters back in 2003 my worst fears were confirmed. Could there be anything worse than a Affleck hand me down? Judging by this movie, the answer is no. Ghosts of Girlfriends Past is the worst movie to come down the pike in some time.
As usual McConaughey is playing a “charming” scamp with something to learn. In this case his lesson would involve learning how to be a real character and not simply a mish mash of the worst kind of grotesque lounge lizard clichés left over from a bad seventies sitcom. He’s coasted through a number of these poorly conceived rom coms on the strength of his pecs and pearly whites but this represents a new low. He smarms his way through the first hour and fifteen minutes before busting out his sincere face for the film’s finale. If he did something, anything grin worthy along the way I wouldn’t have to bash his performance so, but this isn’t a performance, it’s simply a succession of facial ticks.
Micheal Douglas doesn’t fare much better. What was he thinking? Really. Did he read the script and think “I’d be proud to put this next my other work. Let’s see… Fatal Attraction, The China Sydrome, Wall Street and Ghosts of Girlfriends Past. That’ll dress up the resume a little bit” It doesn’t compute. I expect this kind of garbage from McConaughey but not Douglas. He plays McConaughey’s randy dead uncle, sort of a cross between Hugh Hefner and Robert Evans and is just as charming as you’d imagine that unholy marriage to be.
The only real ray of sunshine here is Jennifer Garner, who frankly, should have known better.
The Ghosts of Girlfriends Past is mirthless and worthless. Save your money.
“The Lincoln Lawyer” feels like a throwback. It echoes an era when courtroom procedurals featured anti-heroes and more turns than a twisted mountain road and to a time when its star Matthew McConaughey made good movies.
Based on a novel by American crime writer Michael Connelly, “The Lincoln Lawyer” is the story of Mickey Haller (McConaughey), a wheeling dealing L.A. criminal defense attorney who works out of the back of a Lincoln sedan with the vanity plate NTGUILTY. He’s a bottom-feeder who values money more than ethics until he takes a case involving a dead prostitute, a head strong client, a legal conundrum and his very survival—both personally and professionally.
The first fifteen minutes of “The Lincoln Lawyer” aren’t all that promising. McConaughey appears to be less a character than a collection of charming tics; the kind of work he’s spent the last few years doing in forgettable films like “The Ghosts of Girlfriends Past” and “Fools Gold.” At least he doesn’t resort to taking his shirt off, which, while pleasing to some, is the cheapest way for him to fill the screen.
The winning smile and movie star charm, however, begin to fade as McConaughey drops the smarm and actually begins to explore the character and the story’s twists and turns. The deeper we get into the story the more entertaining and edge of your seat it becomes leading up to a surprising ending.
“The Lincoln Lawyer” will remind you of “Primal Fear” and feels like something that might be more at home on cable TV than on the big screen, but it is a well written, edgy drama with good performances and a welcome return to form from McConaughey.
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.
Here’s the answer to the first question most people have asked me about “Magic Mike”: Yes, Channing Tatum appears naked but not nekkid. In movie terms naked means posterior shots, nekkid is when he turns around. Channing is now too big a star to turn around, but rest assured, within a minute of appearing on screen he leaves little to the imagination.
Directed by Steven Soderbergh, “Magic Mike” is a loosely biographical account of Tatum’s time spent dancing for money in a Tampa strip club. He plays the title character, a thirty-year-old entrepreneur and stripper with one foot on the stage and one in the business world. When he recruits the hot-headed Adam (Alex Pettyfer) to dance at the club he gets drawn deeper into the dark side of the art of selling sex.
Let me first say “Magic Mike” is abtastic.
There haven’t been this many finely sculpted stomach muscles in one place since the Dr. Ho infomercials of the late 1990s. The genetic blessings of stars Tatum, Matthew McConaughey, Joe Manganiello, Matt Bomer and Adam Rodriguez as Chippendales stereotypes like cowboys, firemen and construction workers, mixed with the little details–how Mike smoothes out the sweaty, rumpled bills that get shoved down his G-string and then presses them under a large book–and moves that redefines dirty dancing, paint an effective portrait of the dancers who liberate the sexual passions of the giddy girls in their audiences.
That part the story gets right. When the movie is showing some skin it works, it’s when it gets to the stuff underneath–the heart and soul–that it falters. Up until the final half-hour it’s all about, as Mike says, “women, money and good times,” but the inevitable turn toward the dark side isn’t nearly as interesting as everything that came before it. “Boogie Nights” did it first and did it better.
By the time “Magic Mike” reaches its redemptive moment, with the classic rock anthem of rebirth “Feels Like the First Time,” blaring in the soundtrack, the movie feels like something we’ve seen before.
But for those who stopped reading after the words “Channing Tatum” and “naked” “Magic Mike” offers the pleasures of an endearingly charming performance from the titular character, an unhinged one from McConaughey and lots of buff, hairless men doing things that would make your grandmother blush.
This movie is spectacular… spectacularly bad that is. The year is twenty years from today. Fire-breathing dragons have taken over the world, destroying everything in their wake, leaving just a few iron-willed survivors who live a primitive lifestyle, have become very muscular and apparently like to take off their shirts when they work. Their leader, Quinn (Christian Bale) is a moral, principled man who just wants to protect his extended family from the dragons and lead a decent life inside his castle. This utopian dream is upset one day when Denton Van Zan (Matthew McConaughey) shows up at his front gate. Van Zan is a buff American Dragon Slayer who says things like “Let’s rock and roll!” when going into battle with the fire-breathing demons; the kind of guy who pours testosterone on his Wheaties in the morning. With veins popping and eyes bulging McConaughey chews every bit of scenery in sight, sometimes threatening to bite clean through the screen and assail the audience. Bale struggles to turn Quinn into ssomething more than a cardboard character, and as a result never achieves the over-the-top quality of McConaughey. Reign of Fire was directed by Rob Bowman, best known for helming The X-Files on television. He knows a thing or two about how to create a foreboding atmosphere, but his action sequences fall flat. The battle scenes are over-edited to the point where the viewer can’t tell who is who and what they are doing. It dulls impact of the scene when you can’t really tell what is happening on the screen. If you find pumped-up and shirtless heroes entertaining you might like Reign of Fire. If not, stay home and rent Dragonslayer instead.
The first glimpse of Josh Brolin as scarred comic book bounty hunter Jonah Hex reveals it is a role he was born to play. His natural bad boy swagger shines through the character’s heavy make up but Brolin wasn’t the first choice to play the character, or even the second. As is so often the case in Hollywood many other actors were first considered for the part.
California surf boy Matthew McConaughey was approached, as was indie film darling Emile Hirsch.
Thomas Jane even went as far as submitting photos in full Jonah Hex drag, scars and all.
In the end, Brolin brought that extra something special that made the role his, and joined a long list of actors who weren’t the first choice to headline big movies.
Many actors have played James Bond but a recent JamesBondwiki.com poll anoints Sean Connery as the two-to-one people’s favourite.
Guess what? He wasn’t the first choice.
Author Ian Fleming partially modelled the Bond character on Cary Grant, so the suave actor was top-of-the-list when the first Bond film, Dr. No, was cast. Grant, however, sent his regrets, saying he was too old to play the spy.
When Connery was cast, the writer was less than pleased.
“He’s not exactly what I had in mind,” said Fleming, who felt Connery was too “unrefined” for the role. He later changed his mind and Connery went on to play Bond in six movies.
Connery was the first choice to play Gandalf in The Lord of the Rings series but said no.
“I didn’t understand the script when they sent it to me,” he said. “Bobbits? Hobbits?”
New Line apparently wanted him so badly they offered him a huge chunk of the of worldwide box office receipts. That “no” cost him almost $400 million.
Many other movies have “settled” for second choices. Pretty Woman director Garry Marshall courted Molly Ringwald and Daryl Hannah, who said no because she felt it denigrated women, before casting Julia Roberts.
Can you imagine The Matrix without Keanu Reeves? Apparently the Wachowski Brothers could as they offered the role of Neo to Will Smith first. Smith declined, opting to make the box office disaster Wild Wild West instead, but says he has no regrets.
“I would have absolutely messed up The Matrix. At that point I wasn’t smart enough as an actor to let the movie be — whereas Keanu was.”
“Bernie” is a true crime story that falls into the stranger than fiction category. Based on a true story, the details are so strange, the characters so colorful that it feels ripped from the pen of a Hollywood screenwriter rather than the pages of the Panola County Newspaper.
Jack Black is Bernie Tiede, a portly and courtly Southern funeral director. He is beloved by the folks of the small east Texas town of Carthage for his work with the church, his community involvement and general sunny demeanor. He is particularly loved the little old ladies of the town, many of whom trusted Bernie with their husband’s final … One elderly woman, Marjorie Nugent (Shirley MacLaine), took Bernie under her wing, making him her travel companion and beneficiary of her will. Their relationship confounded many in town. Marjorie was the town shrew, an unpleasant woman who ran the local bank and refused many townspeople loans in their time of need. Soon, despite Bernie’s calming influence the relationship turned sour. “Basically it was like Bernie was her property,” says Bernie’s old boss. Then the unthinkable happened.
To say any more would ruin one of the pleasures of this movie. Director Richard “School of Rock” Linklater lets the strange docu-drama unfold in a leisurely way, through reenactments and talking heads. Broken into sections—Who Is Bernie? Was it Romantic? Was Bernie Gay?—the film provides an interesting portrait of Bernie and the town of Carthage.
Black hands in a nuanced and subdued performance, and Texas native Matthew McConaughey is a live wire as the local DA, Danny Buck, but it is the talking heads that really bring the story alive.
They are the docu part of this docu-drama. Each of them actually knew Bernie, and were supporters of him, even while he was on trial. Their lively colloquialisms—like “There’s more tattoos than teeth on that jury.”—brighten up the movie, helping to create a fully rounded picture of who Bernie was and why he did this terrible thing.
