Underworld: Awakening

 


 
 Release Date: 01/20/2012
  Rating: R
  Runtime: 1 hr 28 mins
  Genre: Horror
  Director: Bjorn Stein
 Cast: Kate Beckinsale, Stephen Rea, Michael Ealy, Theo Jame

Review
After sitting out most of Underworld: Rise of the Lycans, the 2009 “prequel” to the Underworld saga, Kate Beckinsale returns to her trademark role as the face of the blockbuster action-horror franchise in Underworld: Awakening. The film finds Beckinsale’s vampire heroine, Selene, waking up in a research facility after a dozen years in hibernation, whereupon she discovers that both vampires and lycans, the traditional adversaries of the Underworld universe, are now nearly extinct – “cleansed,” as it were, by us good-old humans – and that her 12-year-old daughter, Eve (India Eisley), is imperiled. It seems that both the dreaded lycans and a mad scientist named Dr. Jacob Lane (poor Stephen Rea) are after the girl, on account of her special DNA.
All of which is meant to provide a serviceable backdrop for a good 85 minutes or so of relentless carnage, orchestrated with relish by the Swedish directing tandem of Mans Marlind and Bjorn Stein and meted out dutifully by Beckinsale. Nine years after she first portrayed Selene, the actress appears as comfortable as ever in her familiar black leather as she carves through waves of monstrous creatures and hapless henchmen, performing the odd acrobatic feat to better position herself for the killing blow. The bloodlust occasionally pauses to allow Beckinsale a moment to emote over lost love or seek a fleeting bond with her offspring, but soon more CGI beasts arrive on hand, and the soulless slaughter hastily recommences. Gorehounds hungry for splatter will delight at the myriad ways Underworld: Awakening finds to depict an exploding skull (in fabulous, brain-bursting IMAX 3D!), but in the end, they’re likely the only ones who’ll leave the theater sated.

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Man on a Ledge

Release Date: 01/27/2012
Rating: PG13
Runtime: Not Yet Available
Genre: Drama, Thriller
Director: Asger Leth
Cast: Sam Worthington, Jamie Bell, Ed Harris, Edward Burns

Review
In the cinematic desert that is the January-February movie-release schedule, one gains a greater appreciation for mere competence. And that’s precisely what you’ll get with Man on a Ledge, a mid-budget thriller with modest aspirations and genuine popcorn appeal. Sam Worthington (Avatar, Clash of the Titans) stars as Nick Cassidy, a former New York City cop wrongly convicted for the theft of a prized diamond. After exhausting all judicial avenues for exoneration, he takes the unusual and seemingly desperate next step of planting himself on a ledge outside the penthouse of midtown’s Roosevelt Hotel and threatening to jump. An NYPD psychologist (Elizabeth Banks) is summoned to talk him down, unaware that Nick harbors an ulterior motive. From his perch above midtown, he is secretly orchestrating a scheme to take revenge against the corrupt corporate chieftain (Ed Harris) who engineered his demise and prove his innocence once and for all.
Director Asger Leth, making his U.S. feature-film debut with Man on a Ledge, keeps the pace brisk and never allows the tone to stray into self-seriousness, which is crucial for a movie whose premise is so devoutly ridiculous. The script, from Pablo F. Fenjves, provides enough feints and twists to keep us engaged. Jamie Bell and Genesis Rodriguez aren’t the most believable of couples, but there’s a screwball charm to their comic routine as amateur thieves charged with aiding Nick’s scheme. (Leth can’t resist inserting an entirely superfluous – but nonetheless greatly appreciated – scene of the criminally gorgeous Rodriguez stripping down to a thong in the middle of a heist.) Worthington makes for a likable populist protagonist, even if his Australian accent betrays him on copious occasions, and Harris’ disturbingly emaciated frame lends an added menace to his devious plutocrat villain.

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Red Tails

A drawn out history lesson that nose-dives from beginning to end.

While Steven Spielberg's Saving Private Ryan helped define the style of a modern day war film, it was his HBO mini-series Band of Brothers that truly captured the World War II experience. The multi-part saga dealt with every nook and cranny of the US military's involvement in the war, from large scale battles to intimate character details. The new movie Red Tails, developed and produced by Spielberg's Indiana Jones collaborator and Star Wars mastermind George Lucas, attempts to cover the same ground for the sprawling tale of the Tuskegee Airmen—albeit in a two hour, compressed form. The result is a messy handling of a powerful story of heroism. The good intentions make it on to the screen...but the drama never gets off the runway.

Red Tails assembles a talented cast of young actors to portray the brave men of the 332nd Fighter Group, a faction of the Tuskegee Airmen. The ensemble is reduced to a jumble of simplistic, one-note characterizations: Easy (Nate Parker), the do-gooder with a dark past; Lightning (David Oyelowo), the suave rebel who never listens to orders; Junior (Tristan Wilds), the fresh-faced newbie ready for a good fight; and the rest, a nameless group of underwritten yes men all with just enough backstory to make you interested, but never satisfied. Thankfully, with the little material they have to work with, the gentlemen excel. Rapper-turned-actor Ne-Yo is a standout as the quick-witted Smokey, overshadowing vets Terrence Howard and Cuba Gooding, Jr. (who spends most of the movie chomping on a corn cob pipe and grinning).

With the plethora of characters comes too many plot threads, and Red Tails stuffs its runtime with everything from epic flyboy dog fights, romantic interludes (Lightning finds himself infatuated with a local Italian woman), office politics, alcoholism and even a POW camp escape. If there was a true lead character, the movie may have succeeded in stringing the events together in a coherent narrative, but instead, Red Tails is choppy and uneven. The aerial battles, for all their CG special effects nastiness, are incredibly exhilarating, but when the movie's not tackling the intensity of a battle (which it does often), it comes to a near halt. That mostly comes down to history standing in the way—the crux of the story focuses on how segregation caused the military's higher ups to avoid utilizing the Red Tails in true battle. Meaning there's a lot of talk on how the team should be fighting, as opposed to actually doing it.

Director Anthony Hemingway tries to do this important historical milestone justice, but the execution flies too low, even under made-for-TV movie standards. Red Tails is a dull history lesson occasionally spruced up with Lucas' eye for action. The charisma of the the main set of actors goes a long way in keeping the film tolerable, but they can't fill the gaping hole where the emotional hook belongs. This is a movie about heroes, yet not once are the filmmakers able to pull off a moment that feels remotely brave. Which is unfortunate—as it's a story of the utmost importance.

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Joyful Noise

Queen Latifah and Dolly Parton try their best to make this cinematic noise into something joyful.

A massive hit never ends at its own conclusion, for better or worse. Lost, Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland, The Blair Witch Project and other pop culture milestones spawned plenty of imitators of wavering quality that trickled on to screens until the phenomena tapered off. Joyful Noise, the new film starring Queen Latifah and Dolly Parton, is one these auxiliary creative endeavors, a direct descendant of the cheeky drama/comedy/musical hybrid Glee. But instead of teenage issues and pop covers, Joyful Noise swaps in familial struggles, gospel tunes and a sizable serving of Christian faith. The combination results in a movie that lacks the jazz hand energy of Glee, but packs good-natured laughs to keep someone awake for its two hour duration. More "noise" than "joyful."

Mere minutes after the passing away of choir leader Bernie, Vi Rose (Latifah) inherits the position—along with a serving of negative vibes from Bernie's wife G.G. (Parton), who was hoping to take the job herself. The new responsibility is only the beginning of Vi Rose's troubles, as she attempts to balance her rebellious daughter Olivia's (Keke Palmer) raging hormones, her son Walter's (Dexter Darden) Asperger's syndrome, her husband's absence during a military stint and her own old school, God-faring ways. Hardships are whipped into further chaos upon the arrival of Randy, G.G.'s rambunctious, horny grandson, who shows up at rehearsal with an eye on Olivia and undeniable vocal skills. Randy's rock and roll edge is readily embraced by the group, but even with the national gospel championship on the line, Vi Rose isn't ready to toss tradition aside.

Joyful Noise is a mixed bag, sporadically entertaining when director Todd Graff (Camp, Bandslam) lets his two commanding stars flex their comedic muscles or belt soulful tunes. Latifah and Parton can do both with ease—Latifah has a natural charm, while Parton essentially fills the "kooky Betty White" here—but instead of letting the two fly, Graff breaks up the action with overwrought drama and bizarre side character stories. The script injects a lot of ideas into the picture—loss of faith, modernizing ideologies, coping with tragedy, sexuality under the eye of God—but every tender moment is fumbled. A gut-wrenching conversation between Vi Rose and her autistic son should have weight, and the actors do their best, but the material doesn't service the emotional complexity of the scenario. Instead, it opts to cut to a musical number. Another sequence involving the overnight demise of another character is even played for comedy, even when it causes one woman to question her beliefs.

Thank God for the musical numbers, which have enough energy to brush the flimsier moments under the rug. The Glee-inspired pop tune covers (Michael Jackson's "Man in the Mirror," Usher's "Yeah"—both tailored with religious modifications) aren't nearly as interesting or powerful as the straight-up gospel songs. But unlike the tunes, Joyful Noise doesn't have rhyme or reason. A mishmash of played out character stereotypes, narrative cliches and enjoyable, but erratic music, the movie feels more like a cash-in than it should. Latifah and Parton are a sizzling duo, but the vehicle built for them is a clunker. As Vi Rose might say, the only way to have a great time at Joyful Noise is to believe. Really, really hard.

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'Haywire'

According to official Haywire lore, director Steven Soderbergh chanced upon the woman who would become the star of his breakneck action-thriller one night while watching television. Which isn’t entirely unusual, except that Soderbergh wasn’t watching some obscure indie film or BBC miniseries, but a bout of women’s mixed martial arts fighting. So impressed was he at the sight of Gina Carano, an American Gladiators alum turned cage fighter, that he had the Haywire script, from The Limey writer Lem Dobbs, reworked to accommodate her casting.

In the film, a conventional spy-gone-rogue tale made unconventional by its director and star, Carano plays Mallory Kane, a black-ops freelancer who seeks vengeance against her betrayers upon being double-crossed. Watching her in action, it’s easy to see why Soderbergh was so enamored. Carano is a physical marvel: strong and agile, a skilled fighter and grappler with the face of a model and the shoulders of a linebacker. Having grown accustomed to waif-like action heroines played unconvincingly by the likes of Beckinsale, Jovovich, and Jolie, it’s refreshing to witness an actress who can deliver a knockout blow – and take one – with some credulity.

And Carano kicks a staggering amount of ass in Haywire. In the film’s many fight scenes, Soderbergh prefers wide angles and long takes, the better to showcase his star’s talent for violence. There are no shaky-cam close-ups to cheat the action, and the sound is almost strictly diegetic, lending each of Carano’s brawls (and they are brawls, messy and destructive) a brutal verisimilitude.

It’s when the action stops in Haywire that Carano’s deficiencies as an actress become apparent – she’s wooden and flat, well beyond the requirements of her coldly efficient character – and so Soderbergh labors conspicuously to ensure it hardly ever does. When Mallory Kane isn’t fighting, she’s running, a fugitive agent scrambling to find out who engineered her downfall even as threats amass against her. Each lengthy pursuit is stylishly photographed from a variety of exotic angles (my

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