Side Effects

Side Effects is set in New York City, but it barely looks like it. Steven Soderbergh, acting as always as his own cinematographer, makes the city look colder and more modern than ever, putting his characters in front of anonymous glass buildings and generic streets, robbing the city of its character and warmth at every turn. It's a brutally effective choice for what he claims is his final theatrical release, a twisty and surprisingly sexy thriller that, despite its heat, is actually about how cold and disconnected the world can be.

The film, written by Soderbergh's frequent collaborator Scott Z. Burns, is being sold as a tense drama about evil pharmaceutical companies and the beautiful young woman Emily (Rooney Mara) who becomes their victim, but that's barely the beginning of it. To talk about much about how Catherine Zeta-Jones, playing Emily's former psychiatrist Dr. Siebert, fits into the story would be spoiling too much. It even hard to talk about Channing Tatum, who plays Emily's white collar criminal husband newly released from jail, and whose gentle goodness Soderbergh once again brings out beautifully, but with sinister results.

Hopefully it's not unfair to reveal that Jude Law, not Mara, is the true star of the film, playing the psychiatrist she turns to when she falls into depression after her husband's return. He prescribes her the drug Ablixa for what seem like the right reasons, but it's not hard to see the factors that might lead him astray-- fancy lunch meetings with drug reps, offers of cash from pharmaceutical companies who want his seal of approval, and a wife (Vinessa Shaw) and kid who need his support. When the Ablixa causes some tragic, uh, side effects for Emily, Law's Dr. Banks seems like a well-meaning guy blindsided by a bad drug? but, again, like those shiny corporate surfaces on New York City skyscrapers, what's beneath it is a whole lot more complicated.

After stellar supporting work in Anna Karenina and Soderbergh's own Contagion, Law slips marvelously into the main role here, a would-be hero of his own story who is also, clearly, unraveling. He's well-matched by Mara, whose implacable stillness makes her seem quiet and enigmatic, until it's too late to recognize what was actually happening. The story that surrounds the two of them is more of a mixed bag. It is satisfying to watch Soderbergh tighten the screw on the audience, leading us in one direction then dropping us off a cliff, sliding in new character motivations and backstory at finely tuned moments. But where the story goes isn't necessarily as satisfying as where you thought it would, and though the film still leaves room for some pretty scathing commentary on the pharmaceutical industry, it's ultimately more about the tingling thrills than a larger social purpose. It didn't have to be Traffic, but it could have used a bit more heft to fill in the gaps.

If Soderbergh is indeed retiring, this will be his swan song in the movie theaters, and a not entirely inappropriate one-- the crisp digital cinematography, fine performances and air of cynicism about the modern world are perfectly Soderberghian. But it's more of a clean shot down the middle than one of Soderbergh's wild curveballs, like The Informant! or Magic Mike, that make him great. In the end it might be the upcoming HBO film Behind the Candelabra, a Liberace biopic, that is the best way to Soderbergh fans to say goodbye to this iconoclastic, irreplaceable filmmaker.

Read More

Identity Thief

Shitting in a sink is a tough act to follow.

Melissa McCarthy may have logged hours on Gilmore Girls and Mike & Molly, but her star broached the stratosphere the moment she soiled a posh, cream-white dressing room in Paul Feig?s irreverent Bridesmaids. That scene-stealing performance earned McCarthy two chances this year to convince audiences she?s capable of carrying oneleg of a harmless buddy comedy (the next being Feig's The Heat). So far, though, the gifted comedian?s only being asked to recycle the obnoxious, uncouth and inappropriate persona that she already milked for laughs.

If you weren?t paying attention to the credits, Identity Thief could be mistaken for the latest Todd Phillips comedy. Whether that?s an endorsement or a warning depends on your tastes.

McCarthy plays Diana, an unseemly Floridian con artist who ? in the opening scene ? dupes her mark into sharing his vital statistics (name, date of birth, credit card number) over the phone. That would be Sandy Bigelow Patterson (Jason Bateman) a mild-mannered Denver accountant with a gorgeous wife (Amanda Peet), two precocious kids, and a selfish boss (Jon Favreau) who is screwing him at every turn.

Sandy?s thrown a lifeline by an entrepreneurial colleague (John Cho) starting his own company. Better salary. A vice president?s title. It all sounds too good to be true. Unfortunately, before Sandy can move in to the corner office, he?s told that his credit scores are in the toilet and he?s wanted in the Sunshine State for skipping a mandatory court date. His identity has been stolen.

Proper authorities would attempt to assist Patterson at this point. But because Identity Thief was plotted by Craig Mazin ? whose screenwriting credits include two Scary Movie sequels, two Hangover sequels and Superhero Movie -- we instead plunge headlong into the improbable and flail around in search of broad comedy.

Sandy convinces his employers to give him one week to lure Diana back to Denver. He cooks up an elaborate sting operation that will trick the diminutive crook into confessing her crimes. Apparently flying from Florida isn?t an option (because a deceptive identity thief like Diana supposedly doesn?t have false credentials that will get her on an airplane), so Mazin and director Seth Gordon do their best impersonation of Due Date, putting polar opposites behind the wheel for a series of ludicrous, violent and demeaning pit stops.

McCarthy and Bateman riff on variations of the established snob-and-slob personalities. Twenty years ago, this vehicle would have been shaped around Chris Farley and David Spade. The pair does find ways to make the inevitable odd-couple clich? click, though. Thief works best when its leads can dance around whatever silly situation Mazin hands them, be it a motel tryst with an amorous cowboy (Modern Family?s Eric Stonestreet) or the film?s purest blast of guilt-free comedy involving Bateman and a six-foot-long snake.

For whatever reason, though, Thief keeps slowing down to introduce new characters through subplots that ultimately add little to the mix. Comedy might be the only genre that can be done in by too much plot. Do we really need Genesis Rodriguez and hip-hop artist T.I. as gangsters looking to kill Diana because she scammed them with bogus credit cards? No. They answer to Paolo (the great Jonathan Banks), a Godfather-type mob boss who pulls strings from his prison cell in a series of scenes that likely beefed up a subplot that landed on the cutting room floor. Speaking of, that?s where Gordon should have left Robert Patrick?s contributions as Skiptracer, a bounty hunter also assigned to capturing Diana. Remove any ? or all ? of these characters from the mix and you?re left with a blessedly shorter version of basically the same movie.

Identity Thief isn?t odious. It?s just predictable. Lazy comedies cast the overweight McCarthy as the bullish deadbeat and the conservative Bateman as the buttoned-down bean counter. Gordon could have helped his film establish its own identity by having his talented leads switch characters. Make Bateman ditch his uptight comedic crutch to play a low-life criminal dirt bag. Gamble on McCarthy as the respectable female executive who?s victimized by a con. The gifted comedian has to start playing against type in big-screen comedies if she wants to be remembered as anything other than that heavy-set woman who crapped herself in a Kristen Wiig comedy.

Read More

Safe Haven

Nicholas Sparks has become such a massive force in American romantic films that it only takes a few signifiers to recognize his work. A beach setting, with marshes in the background glinting with sunlight. A couple, almost always white, either in casual resort wear or bathing suits, embracing. There's always something dark looming, be it a secret from the past or a tragedy the characters don't see coming, but the glowing smiles of the lovers overcome it-- these are movies painstakingly engineered to bring its fragile audience just to the brink of raw emotions before planting them back in the pastel-colored, soft and generous Sparksian world.

Safe Haven, the latest film to roll off the Sparks assembly line, follows every one of those instructions to the letter, though he fiddles with the formula enough here that longtime fans might be wooed. The darkness in Safe Haven comes not from some looming future tragedy but from the past, as Katie (Julianne Hough) tries to start a new life in Southport, North Carolina while her abusive husband Kevin (David Lyons) tracks her from Boston. The parallel narrative structure is unusual for a Sparks film, as we watch Katie flirt and fall for local shopkeeper Alex (Josh Duhamel, 16 years older than Hough but who's counting?) while Kevin, a detective, hunts her like a bloodhound.

The contrasting styles of a stalker thriller and a fluffy romance could lend Safe Haven some interesting wrinkles, but director Lasse Hallstrom has no idea how to play out that tension, offering pointless misdirection about Kevin's real identity and revealing clues about how he'll hunt Katie down well after the audience has noticed them. He's more comfortable with the brighter romantic scenes, thanks to experience on the likes of Dear John and Salmon Fishing in the Yemen. The North Carolina locations are sumptuous as ever, and Alex's two moppets (Noah Lomax and Mimi Kirkland) are actually cute, at least when not saddled with dialogue. Hough and Duhamel have no chemistry whatsoever, and their characters are bland and featureless as a bowl of grits, but you paid money to see them romance each other in bathing suits, and they dutifully comply.

Even though it's essentially the same as every coastal Southern town depicted in a Sparks novel, Southport and its easy way of life is surprisingly alluring, and credit to production designer Kara Lindstrom for the effectively weathered general store that Alex owns, and Katie's bungalow in the woods that's the kind of place we'd all run away to, abusive husband or not. Safe Haven's February release is obviously timed for Valentine's Day, but it works as a mental summer vacation as well-- when you get bored of watching Katie and Alex gaze at each other or the convoluted plot that keeps them apart, you can admire their summer clothes and the coastal greenery and start counting down the days until your own beach vacation.

Until, that is, the film's climax, which includes one twist you definitely saw coming-- that abusive husband wasn't going to stay away forever, now was he?-- and one you might not have, a twist so gutsy it will probably be all anyone talks about after. As it turns out, you can complain all you want about Nicholas Sparks's conflict-free stories, but when conflict is introduced it totally ruins the gauzy vacation vibe. Safe Haven doesn't have a whole lot to offer, with a plot so familiar and stars so uninterested in each other, and its resolution only undermines what it's truly best at being-- a cheap North Carolina vacation.

Read More

The Master

In his last and possibly best film, There Will Be Blood, Paul Thomas Anderson dove headlong into a character who is a very specific, very important American archetype. Daniel Plainview, who was almost an instant icon, was the American Dream embodied and curdled, a salesman and sociopath who shaped the wilderness of the country in his own image. In his new film The Master, Philip Seymour Hoffman plays a uniquely American character not unlike Daniel Plainview, a man who chooses to shape people rather than nature. But the film's focus is divided between Hoffman's cult leader Lancaster Dodd and Joaquin Phoenix's Freddie Quell, a drifter who falls under Dodd's spell. It gives the film a range of themes and some powerhouse scenes between the two, but also muddles its focus; The Master is beautiful and thought-provoking, but also frustratingly inaccessible and opaque about its meaning.

In a way that's always always been Anderson's style-- who can claim they know the deal with those frogs at the end of Magnolia?-- but The Master is a film about ideas that's also oddly disconnected from them, exploring the nascent cult Lancaster Dodd has founded without ever giving real meaning to his teachings. Hoffman plays Dodd as a fiery but uniquely entertaining man, holding his followers and the audience in rapt attention through vague speeches about achieving higher awareness and the existence of past lives. He is calm when prodding his followers to new "revelations" but quick to anger in the face of skeptics, ebullient on his daughter's wedding day but cold the next. He's mercurial but giving and endlessly confident, which is what makes him such a great leader-- and such a fascinating figure to follow and never quite understand throughout the film.

But he's nothing compared to Freddie, the film's untamable and menacing heart, a man cut loose from the all-or-nothing morals of World War II into a country that doesn't have room for him. We meet him first on a Navy beach outpost where he takes every joke too far and does insane things like drink rocket fuel; after the war he's left taking portraits at a posh department store, and who can be surprised when that blows up in his face. Like any good American origin myth, Freddie's meeting with Dodd happens entirely by accident, hopping on board a gleaming party boat that's sailing away beneath the Golden Gate Bridge. After a intense kind of psychotherapy called "processing" and some straight talk with Dodd's wife Peggy (Amy Adams), Freddie is brought into Dodd's confidence-- and the insular, unblinking world of The Cause-- before he or we quite understand how it happened.

Despite all the talk of Dodd being a thinly veiled take on L. Ron Hubbard, nothing in The Master reflects that heavily on the real world, and for all the ways we see Freddie and Dodd straining against the confines of post-war American life, their story isn't presented in the mythic tones you might expect. The best parts of The Master are when it condenses down into tinderbox scenes between Freddie and Lancaster, the two of them probing and defying each other, sometimes exploding-- as in an unforgettable scene in a prison cell-- or gazing at each other with the kind of sadness and affection you might expect from lovers. Freddie is not like the devoted, thoughtful followers Dodd has already amassed-- he's like a feral animal, with poor impulse control and disturbing sexual obsessions, and that challenge to overcome his base nature fits neatly into Dodd's rambling teachings about connecting to a higher self.

Shot in rich, detailed 70 mm that adds unexpected depth and clarity to even the simplest scenes, The Master is gorgeous in its careful construction, but also a little distant and hard to grasp. A second viewing seems practically a requirement, like many of Anderson's films, and it's a little painful to write this review now, knowing I haven't yet gotten the whole picture. Based around undeniably great performances, impeccable design and Anderson's unnerving confidence behind the camera, The Master is unforgettable, but like the mercurial men at its center, the harder you try to read into it, the more it slips away into the distance.

Read More

Beautiful Creatures

Your Twilight alarm may be screaming at first glimpse of Beautiful Creatures, a supernatural romance between two teenagers-- one human, one immortal-- who long to be together, and express that longing in a lot of gorgeous natural locations while scored to modern pop music. And while the world of Beautiful Creatures is no less absurd than Twilight, filled with witches called "casters" and curses from the Civil War and an all-knowing Viola Davis, it possesses a crucial self-awareness to actually allow you to get in on the fun. It's not always easy to follow the rules of this new supernatural world, but by not getting caught up in the details and exploring the giggly thrill of teen romance, Beautiful Creatures is way more fun than your Twilight-weary soul might imagine.

It starts, surprisingly enough, with the two attractive young leads, both of whom commit to the high emotions of romance without forgetting that they're supposed to be, y'know, enjoying each others' company. Alden Ehrenreich slaps on a syrupy Southern accent to play Ethan Wate, a sweet-natured kid itching to escape his South Carolina hometown, but also stuck caring for his dad following his mother's death. He's drawn immediately to the new girl in town, Lena (Alice Englert), who's staying with her uncle Macon Ravenwood (Jeremy Irons) in a run-down old mansion that everyone thinks is haunted (the connection between Macon and To Kill a Mockingbird's Boo Radley is stated early, one of many hints that Beautiful Creatures is smarter than it looks). Ethan pursues Lena not with smoldering glances but an easy smile and a willingness to look silly, and the imperious Lena eventually softens-- but not before revealing the family secrets that could keep them apart.

You see, Lena is a caster-- the terms for witch used in Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl's novels-- and on her approaching 16th birthday she will be "claimed" for either the dark or light side. In the chaotic group of supporting characters we see both the light side (Margo Martindale in an insane wig, mainly) and the dark (Emmy Rossum's vampy Cousin Ridley), and Lena's own dark caster mother Seraphine comes to town, possesses the body of the local Moral Majority snoop (Emma Thompson) and tries to meddle in Lena's life enough to make her dark transition a guarantee. On top of all that, there's also a curse left over from the Civil War that guarantees that Lena's love for a mortal will make her dark forever. Being 16 ain't easy, y'all.

When Thompson first appears as the schoolmarmish yokel she seems wildly out of place, but when she transforms into Seraphine with one delicious monologue delivered to Irons, she lights a rocket under the movie and delivers its purpose. Yes, all the Southern accents in this movie are awful. Yes, it's impossible to keep track of which caster is meddling with Lena in which way. Yes, there are moments where we peek into Lena's magical world and something completely nonsensical-- like a man with his entire body painted like clouds-- is presented as if we should understand it. But even when Beautiful Creatures is nonsense, it is stylish, captivating, gloriously enjoyable nonsense, with all of its performers well aware of what they're given. Director Richard LaGravanese, seemingly grateful to have assembled this kind of cast, lets his actors cut loose, but all are smart enough not to turn it into a joke. You'll find yourself believing in it all despite yourself; like the Civil War re-enactments featured in the final action scene, it all looks insane on the surface, but has a mighty power to suck you in.

Englert, with her moody eyes and powerful charisma, is an obvious star in the making, but Ehrenreich matches her not in sex appeal, but boy-next-door relatability-- the two of them alone are worth a sequel to dip back into this loony-tunes world. As a South Carolinian I think I finally understand what it's been like for Louisianans to watch True Blood all these years, seeing their culture transformed into something howling and maybe even offensive. I also can't wait to see it happen again.

Read More

Oz The Great And Powerful

In a world of sequels, reboots, remakes, re-adaptations and re-imaginings, prequels have become one of Hollywood?s hardest nuts to crack. There have been far fewer successes than notorious missteps, from George Lucas? second Star Wars trilogy to X-Men Origins: Wolverine. In directing Oz The Great and Powerful, Sam Raimi was facing an uphill battle working to live up to the legacy of Victor Fleming?s classic The Wizard of Oz, but by embracing what was great about the old film while introducing plenty of new to the world, he has succeeded.

The legacy of both Disney and Oz both could have found a way to stifle Raimi?s style, but Oz The Great and Powerful is undeniably a Raimi film. The director brings all of his little flourishes that he?s had since The Evil Dead to the new blockbuster - most notably the quick-zooms that distinguish scenes of chaos ? and he?s also even able to play around with some scarier elements. The film is never any more frightening than The Wizard of Oz is, but between dragon-winged baboons, intense witches and a scene involving some freaky plant monsters, the movie will raise your pulse at times.

And credit to Raimi for actually building Oz for his actors to interact in instead of a bunch of green screens. Not only does it give the film a surreal quality, convincing the audience of its otherworldliness, it?s also a boon to the 3D cinematography, which succeeds in not making the characters look like cardboard cutouts against a matte painting. But where the CGI does come in its fantastic, particularly in the design and integration of the China Girl, who looks impressively photorealistic.

As an origin story for The Wizard of Oz, this film cleverly balances its own story while also embracing the elements that made the original great to begin with. Raimi includes many nods to Fleming?s movie, including the sepia-toned 4:3 aspect ratio opening that turns to color and widescreen in the Land of Oz, and the fact that both stories have a group of unlikely heroes joining together to go on a great adventure, but keeps the story surprising and clever enough for it all to play as loving homage. The troupe that the movie pulls together - which includes Oz (James Franco), the con-man/magician/presumed wizard destined to save the land from the wicked witch; Finley (Zach Braff), a flying monkey who owes a life-debt to Oz; and the aforementioned China Girl (Joey King), a sassy young porcelain doll who Oz rescues ? has wonderful chemistry and conflicting personalities, while the three witches Glinda, Evanora and Theodora (Michelle Williams, Rachel Weisz, and Mila Kunis) all get interesting new backstories that add surprising depth to previously underdeveloped characters.

Fun as Franco is in the eponymous role, it?s surprisingly his CGI co-stars that wind up stealing the show. As Finley, Braff has the benefit of getting the lion?s share of the funniest one-liners and quips, but the actor deserves the credit for his great timing and simply having the perfect voice for the part. King, meanwhile, brings the ideal level of pluck and cute humor to the China Girl without ever being cloying or reducing the character to being a stereotype.

Unlike 2011?s The Thing, Hannibal Rising or Dumb and Dumberer: When Harry Met Lloyd, Oz The Great and Powerful is the rare prequel that fans will want to rewatch back to back with the original classic, not only finding the places where the stories sync up, but also just enjoying the story of it all. It?s an entertaining family movie, a true Sam Raimi film, and a fun return to a merry old land.

Read More

Stoker

The best way to watch Stoker, the new film from director Park Chan-wook, is as if you have the senses of its lead character. India Stoker, played by the brilliant Mia Wasikowska, has a special gift where she can hear and see things imperceptible to the rest of us, seeing the world for all of its smallest details and elements. Watching the movie, audiences should completely absorb themselves in it, pushing back reality to focus on every line, every cut, every pan and every sound. It?s the only way to properly view something this magnificent.

Mixing elements of the modern day, the Victorian gothic era and the mid-20th century, Stoker is a stunning mix of coming of age tale and horror/thriller that begins on India?s 18th birthday ? the day her father (Dermot Mulroney) is killed in a terrible car accident. But it isn?t until the funeral that she discovers she won?t be alone in her giant house with her unbalanced mother, Evie (Nicole Kidman). It is there that she first learns of her mysterious Uncle Charlie (Matthew Goode), family she has never knew existed. From there, Park and screenwriter Wentworth Miller weave a captivating and phenomenal tale of mystery and terror, as sexual and psychological tension constantly rises between the mother, daughter and uncle and India?s fascination with her estranged relative unravels not only his past, but also her future.

Every frame in Stoker feels like it was crafted with satin-gloved fingertips and a pair of tweezers held by a filmmaker in complete control. Park makes regular use of long, flowing shots that take the audience around the palatial Stoker estate, lending the film not only a feeling of elegance, but a creepy, underlying voyeurism. ?The sound design is otherworldly, as we occasionally dip into India?s perceptions and listen to the world the way she hears it, from the light breathing and shallow gulps during a quiet family dinner to the shatter of a gunshot and gurgling blood. The film creates an opulent, wonderful landscape of senses that lures you in and snaps like a bear trap when the dark undertones become extreme overtones.

Leading the cast and lending a stoic, mesmerizing quality to India, Wasikowska is a stand-out in a cast replete with awesome performances. The young actress creates an impressive balance for the character, accentuating her great strength (like when she strikes back at bullies tormenting her at school) while also making her vulnerable (particularly when in the presence of Uncle Charlie). Goode?s take on the film?s mysterious antagonist is frighteningly reminiscent of Anthony Perkins? Norman Bates in Psycho, while Kidman?s turn is blessed with subtlety that makes Evie?s instability all the more engaging. When the three gather in one room you can palpably feel the emotions between all the characters and it?s immediately clear you?re watching something special.

You won?t find any jump scares in Stoker. Nor will you find any demonically-possessed children, CGI beasts, or half-assed twist endings. The movie forgoes any stunts and tropes and instead generates genuine terror from flawless filmmaking, a collection of outstanding performances and a story of bubbling monstrosity and bad blood. If this is what Park Chan-wook can bring to the American film world, then hopefully he will stay for a very long time.

Read More

The Last Exorcism Part II

New Orleans is a really spooky place. It?s a strange mix of buttoned up Christianity, hidden superstitions and nighttime sin. It has its own pace, its own bilingual history and its own demons. In many ways, it?s the perfect setting for a horror movie interested in creepy and off-putting visuals and/ or backstories involving slavery, vampires and old mansions that have fallen into disrepair.

At times, The Last Exorcism really seems to understand the potential in its location. It cuts to creepers in Mardi Gras masks and disturbing painted street performers. It even throws in some voodoo-like rituals, but none of it is enough to save a flat exorcism story arc that few of us asked for and even fewer will enjoy.

Even casual horror fans have probably seen at least one young woman?s body twisted, contorted and raised into the air. If not, they?ve at least seen one member of a weird cult or religious organization get called out of the bullpen to try his home spun remedies on a protagonist slowly losing his or her mind. That?s why exorcism movies have to be about the characters now, as as characters go, The Last Exorcism is short on good ones.

After the de-possession story of the first The Last Exorcism, Nell Sweetzer (Ashley Bell) is discovered in the woods and brought to live in a group home for troubled young girls. After repeatedly being told the demon who possessed her, Abalam, isn?t real, she starts to make a real life for herself. There's a potential boyfriend (Spencer Treat Clark) to awkwardly go to the zoo with, a gaggle of girlfriends to talk about it with, and a job as a maid in a local hotel, but alas, we all know that bliss can?t last in an exorcism movie. Abalam reappears in various forms to sometimes torture her, sometimes woo her and consistently confuse the hell out of any viewers with common sense.

There?s a difference between a genre movie not answering every possible question a viewer might have and a horror movie straight up not making sense, and The Last Exorcism 2 is on the wrong side of that unforgiving line. We?re told Abalam is powerless without Nell; yet, he?s apparently capable of inhabiting people?s bodies and committing a boatload of felonies with only a marginal bit of effort. Sometimes we?re given evidence to believe certain characters and certain behaviors are figments of people?s imaginations, and sometimes we?re given evidence to believe certain characters and certain behaviors are actually happening. It?s a big jumbled, needlessly complicated mess.

The Last Exorcism worked because it made clever use of a skeptic, got a great performance from its lead actress and offered just enough genuine scares. The Last Exorcism 2 gets that same great performance from Bell, but beyond that, it doesn?t offer much more than confusion and the occasional New Orleans shoutout. Unlike its predecessor, this one isn?t destined for good word of mouth, and if we?re in luck, it won?t be destined for another sequel either.

Read More

Jack The Giant Slayer

The beanstalk has been eliminated from the title of this version of Jack and the adventure that happens when he brings home magic beans, and we have to wait a hell of a long time to see it. When padding out a children's fairy tale to become an epic, CGI-heavy film, you've got to add some story in there somehow, and in its opening act Jack slides painfully from animated recreation of the giant legends to meet-cute between our hero and heroine to the political instability of a kingdom that doesn't exist.

Even when the beanstalk erupts, and Jack (dewy and engaging Nicholas Hoult) joins a rescue party to rescue the pretty princess (Eleanor Tomlinson) who's trapped atop it, director Bryan Singer can't quite wrap his arms around this wily revisionist fairy tale. Only when those titular giants emerge, miraculous creations of motion-capture and imagination, do Jack the movie and Jack the person seem to find their purpose, spinning a children's film with surprising violence and even more goofy humor, a fairly standard-issue fantasy with just enough sparks of wit that show someone cared enough to make it better.

That's not necessarily what I'd hoped for from Singer, who's spent the the four years since the muddled release of his terrific film Valkyrie working on this and overseeing the X-Men universe. Though Jack works with some excellent moments of tension-- like when Jack and his princess love are on the verge of being cooked into a giant pie-- it's not nearly the high wire expertise Singer has shown in the past, and the grinding mechanics of the script credited to four different people keeps the film leaden for far too long. A movie that gets good only after 45 minutes is a tough sit, but Jack only manages to become OK-- a hard sell both to the kids it's aimed at and the parents who might know Singer is capable of better.

Jack isn't as chaotic as Clash of the Titans and not nearly as self-serious as John Carter, which at least puts it ahead of some of its fellow early-spring fantasy competition. And its bright spots are often remarkable, like the swashbuckling Errol Flynn-style performance from Ewan MacGregor as the head of the rescue party, or Stanley Tucci as the princess's sniveling intended, with his own secret plans for how to rule the kingdom. When the rescue party begins the men-- of course they're all men-- are an unruly gaggle of about a dozen, and only after about half of them literally fall off the beanstalk is it possible to figure out group dynamics (Eddie Marsan is in there somewhere, but has a hard time breaking out of the pack). And though it's hard to to sense the love connection between Jack and Princess Isabelle that sends him clambering up that beanstalk, once they're reunited they have a nice thing going on. It's a shame the adventuresome princess barely gets to be a part of the actual action, but with so much else going on in the plot, it's almost a relief to have one less story to deal with.

The giants, and especially a motion-capture Bill Nighy as the leader Fallon, are a mighty impressive CGI creation, covered in all kinds of weird warts and growths and, on one of them at least, a second head. Shooting much of the film outdoors allows the giants to feel even more authentic, though parents might find that realism a bit too intense for kids. In an effort to balance that intensity Jack is crammed with silly humor, leaving it in an odd middle-ground between straight-up family adventure and a more familiar fantasy cribbed from Lord of the Rings. It's a strange hybrid, and not entirely a successful one, but hey, at least it's trying something different.

Read More

This Means War

• Release Date: 02/17/2012 
• Rating: R  
• Runtime: 98 min
• Genre: Comedy, Action , Romance
• Director: McG
• Cast: Reese Witherspoon, Chris Pine, Tom Hardy, Chelsea Handler

Storyline

Two top CIA operatives wage an epic battle against one another after they discover they are dating the same woman. 



Review 

In This Means War – a stylish action/rom-com hybrid from director McG – Tom Hardy (The Dark Knight Rises) and Chris Pine (Star Trek) star as CIA operatives whose close friendship is strained by the fires of romantic rivalry. Best pals FDR (Pine) and Tuck (Hardy) are equally accomplished at the spy game, but their fortunes diverge dramatically in the dating realm: FDR (so nicknamed for his obvious resemblance to our 32nd president) is a smooth-talking player with an endless string of conquests, while Tuck is a straight-laced introvert whose love life has stalled since his divorce. Enter Lauren (Reese Witherspoon), a pretty, plucky consumer-products evaluator who piques both their interests in separate, unrelated encounters. Tuck meets her via an online-dating site, FDR at a video-rental store. (That Lauren is tech-savvy enough to date online but still rents movies in video stores is either a testament to her fascinating mix of contradictions, or more likely an example of lazy screenwriting.)

When Tuck and FDR realize they’re pursuing the same girl, it sparks their respective competitive natures, and they decide to make a friendly game of it. But what begins as a good-natured rivalry swiftly devolves into romantic bloodsport, with both men using the vast array of espionage tools at their disposal – from digital surveillance to poison darts – to gain an edge in the battle for Lauren’s affections. If her constitutional rights happen to be violated repeatedly in the process, then so be it.

Lauren, for her part, remains oblivious to the clandestine machinations of her dueling suitors, and happily basks in the sudden attention from two gorgeous men. Herein we find the Reese Witherspoon Dilemma: While certainly desirable, Lauren is far from the irresistible Helen of Troy type that would inspire the likes of Tuck and FDR to risk their friendship, their careers, and potential incarceration for. At several points in This Means War, I found myself wondering if there were no other peppy blondes in Los Angeles (where the film is primarily set) for these men to pursue. Then again, this is a film that wishes us to believe that Tom Hardy would have trouble finding a date, so perhaps plausibility is not its strong point.

When Lauren needs advice, she looks to her boozy, foul-mouthed best friend, Trish (Chelsea Handler). Essentially an extension of Handler’s talk-show persona – an acquired taste if there ever was one – Trish’s dialogue consists almost exclusively of filthy one-liners, delivered in rapid-fire succession. Handler does have some choice lines – indeed, they’re practically the centerpiece of This Means War’s ad campaign – but the film derives the bulk of its humor from the outrageous lengths Tuck and FDR go to sabotage each others’ efforts, a raucous game of spy-versus-spy that carries the film long after Handler’s shtick has grown stale.

Business occasionally intrudes upon matters in the guise of Heinrich (Til Schweiger), a Teutonic arms dealer bent on revenge for the death of his brother. The subplot is largely an afterthought, existing primarily as a means to provide third-act fireworks – and to allow McGenius an outlet for his ADD-inspired aesthetic proclivities. The film’s action scenes are edited in such a manic, quick-cut fashion that they become almost laughably incoherent. In fairness to McG, he does stage a rather marvelous sequence in the middle of the film, in which Tuck and FDR surreptitiously skulk about Lauren's apartment, unaware of each other's presence, carefully avoiding detection by Lauren, who grooves absentmindedly to Montel Jordan's "This Is How We Do It." The whole scene unfolds in one continuous take – or is at least craftily constructed to appear as such – captured by one very agile steadicam operator.

Whatever his flaws as a director, McG is at least smart enough to know how much a witty script and appealing leads can compensate for a film’s structural and logical deficiencies. He proved as much with Charlie’s Angels, a film that enjoys a permanent spot on many a critic’s Guilty Pleasures list, and does so again with This Means War. The film coasts on the chemistry of its three co-stars, and only runs into trouble when the time comes to resolve its romantic competition, which, by the end, has driven its male protagonists to engage in all manner of underhanded and duplicitous activities. This Means War being a commercial film – and likely an expensive one at that – Witherspoon's heroine is mandated to make a choice, and McG all but sidesteps the whole thorny matter of Tuck and FDR’s unwavering dishonesty, not to mention their craven disregard for her privacy. (They regularly eavesdrop on her activities.) For all their obvious charms, the truth is that neither deserves Lauren – or anything other than a lengthy jail sentence, for that matter.

Read More