More peaks and valleys than the women in the movie
The women in this collection of animated short stories are very fond of taking off their clothes and/or hopping into bed with men they just met. Not a criticism, just an observation. When you add graphic violence, elements of sci-fi and fantasy, and relatively crude animation to the busty nymphos, you have a slapdash, strangely affecting film that is both irritating and fascinating.
As has been mentioned in several comments, the quality of the stories vary from dull to captivating. The taxi driver tale and the story about the young geek who becomes a muscular hulk are weird and fun to watch; others, like the final story about an avenging beauty clad in a skimpy system of straps, are tedious and revel too much in their unique brand of kinkiness. However, the story about the fighter plane which becomes infested with the living dead is an underappreciated gem.
The writing is average and the animation is pedestrian when compared with some of today's animated classics ("The Iron Giant," "Tarzan"), but "Heavy Metal" is an amusing enough exercise in rock and roll cartooning. (The selection of music is hit-and-miss as well, and the exclusion of Ted Nugent is inexcusable.) If you rent this not expecting much, you might be pleasantly surprised.
"Palmetto" is humid and sweaty, but it flounders around on the screen trying to convince the audience that it is a taut noir thriller. "Palmetto," about a fake kidnapping plot gone wrong, is actually aimless and pretty tame. The film isn't outright bad, exactly. Just unremarkable and forgettable.
Woody Harrelson, who is good in just about anything, nicely conveys Harry Barber's desperate attempts to keep the kidnapping plot from collapsing, but Elisabeth Shue looks like a deer caught in headlights and acts like an eleven-year-old girl trying on Mommy's clothes and acting naughty. The plot progresses with the mandatory double-crosses and revelations, but fails to make any impression except for Shue's vamping and Gina Gershon's nagging.
The final twenty minutes of the movie are downright laughable, but by then I was already bored into a state of complete disinterest. Honestly, "Palmetto" makes "Follow That Bird" look like an edgy thriller. And the only intriguing about "Palmetto" is Elisabeth Shue's wig at the end.
Action films aren't SUPPOSED to be boring, are they?
Sheesh! Chow Yun-Fat has the silky charm and coiled rage of a tiger, and Mira Sorvino has great legs, but they are both wasted in this dull, Hong Kong action flick-wannabe. The film, about a hitman (Yun-Fat) who refuses to kill a young boy and becomes hunted by mercenaries, is the cinematic equivalent of a fast-food restaurant's neon sign. Flashy and colourful, noisy and shallow, "The Replacement Killers" is never as cool or as exciting as it could have been.
There's one great sequence - a shoot-out in a car wash - and any film with Michael Rooker in it isn't completely worthless. Most of the film, though, is a cluster of pedestrian action scenes centred around a group of characters with no depth. Sorvino is on autopilot as the brash, hard-as-nails chick; the villains are instantly forgettable; and Yun-Fat only gets to glower.
To tell you the truth, I have no desire to write any more about this movie. Having never seen an actual Hong Kong action movie, I can only guess they're better than "The Replacement Killers." In any case, you'd be better off renting one of those.
"We're having fun now; Mommy never let you in the kitchen."
Dustin Hoffman and Meryl Streep star as a husband and wife who go through what has to be the most easy-going divorce in film history. What little friction there is arises from the battle over custody to their young son, played amazingly well by Justin Henry. Ted and Joanna (for 'tis their names) seem completely wrong for each other, making it hard to believe that they were actually married for seven years. Judging from the interaction we see in the film, I would have given them maybe a year at most.
But none of the details of their relationship really matter because the film is mainly about Ted's changing relationship with the boy, Billy. Dustin is excellent as always, smoothly fitting into the hustle-bustle life of an advertising executive, but his shift from self-absorbed to caring father is done in clearly visible steps. I never sensed that his progression was natural.
Still, the scenes between Hoffman and Henry work splendidly; they capture the casual yet touching balance between father and son. The script is smart and it gives the two actors plenty of good scenes (Ted's French toast and Billy's introduction to his father's girlfriend stand out in my mind). Streep (working without an accent!) broke my heart as the stifled woman who needed to find herself.
Ultimately, I liked the film because none of the characters are either black or white. As Ted himself admits in court, he isn't a perfect father. Joanna certainly isn't a perfect mother. And Billy can be a little brat. But underneath their various tensions, there is concern and a true desire to make this major change to their lives without hurting each other. Flawed yet touching, I'll give "Kramer vs. Kramer" a 7.
It is EXTREMELY refreshing to hear from someone in the media who doesn't bow and scrape to the lumbering corporations that control every aspect of global communication. Rather than push the corporate doctrine of "profit is everything," film maker Michael Moore pulls back the curtain to reveal the true, ugly face of capitalism.
"Roger & Me" examines how Moore's hometown of Flint, Michigan is affected when General Motors closes down a series of factories in order to set up production in Mexico. The town is devastated, economically and spiritually, because GM was practically the only game in town - the city was built around GM.
Rather than interview labour experts and union representatives - people who would side with him - Moore talks mainly with GM executives and Flint citizens, building a damning picture of General Motors along the way. It becomes clear that GM cared only for making more and more money, for attaining the greedy goal of progress, while neglecting the human need in Flint.
The elimination of jobs in Flint would be understandable if the company was going under, but GM was seeing record profits! Moore repeatedly tries getting an interview with the titular Roger, Mr. Smith, chairman of General Motors, so he can invite the CEO to Flint to see the devastation GM has caused. As Moore is stymied at every attempt, we get classic footage of security guards and low-level flunkies trying to shake the dogged film maker off their backs.
Moore is a master of irony, effectively poking apart GM's lame excuses regarding the massive lay-offs. (A particularly effective montage is when Roger Smith's festive Christmas speech is intercut with footage of a former auto worker being evicted on Christmas Eve.) Moore lets the GM PR guy paint himself and the company as heartless by letting him state matter-of-factly that a major company owes nothing to the town in which it was born.
The film is more than just a stinging indictment of GM, though. There is a powerful vein of despair and sadness running through the film. As Moore illustrates the desperate lengths to which the town and townspeople have resorted, we see a portrait of a town that has lost it's soul. (Who can forget the woman and her pathetic rabbit farm or the attempts to turn Flint into a tourist centre? "Our new spark will surprise you!")
Serio-comic in tone, "Roger & Me" is a passionate piece of work that reveals the evil that corporations do to the people who depend on them for a living. With it's heart in the right place, this film speaks up for the working man and makes itself heard loud and clear.
The first time I saw this film, I was suitably impressed but found I couldn't enjoy it completely. In order to keep up with the relentless pace of the plot, I didn't pay as much attention to the writing and the performances as I should have. When it was over, I felt the breakneck pace of the story overshadowed the screenplay and acting, rendering the film an accomplished reprisal of fact but not much else.
What a difference a second viewing made. My familiarity with the plot allowed me to appreciate all the finer details of the film. Watching Redford and Hoffman's disciplined performances as Woodward and Bernstein, for instance, is like watching two expert tennis players work in tandem with one another. When they act together, there is a delightful give-and-take, two masters working their way into a wonderful groove. While they appear steady and reserved on the surface, the two actors radiate a noticeable undercurrent of excitement and dread, as if underneath their stern countenances they're screaming, "Holy sh*t! I can't believe we're doing this!!" Redford, not the strongest dramatic actor, finds his normal-guy niche here and gives one of his best performances. Hoffman is equally strong, making even the simplest scene seem like a masterpiece (the "count to 10" phone scene comes to mind).
Throughout the film, Pakula communicates the idea of these two reporters being completely outnumbered by the people responsible for the Watergate break-in. I loved the numerous overhead shots of Woodward and Bernstein that pull up, up, up, until they're nothing more than specks in the dirty streets of DC. (This technique is also used in the classic scene where the two guys are searching through old records and the camera pulls up to the ceiling and shows them seated along the edge of a circular series of desks.)
The film rockets right along, leaving the viewers as excited over the reporters' discoveries as they are. William Goldman's script helps in this regard, I think, sticking straight to the meat and cutting out any unnecessary roughage. The dialogue gets right down to business while working in realistic vocal habits and the like. Redford really captures this well (listen to his stammering and self-corrections when he talks on the phone to sources - great stuff!).
I can't recommend "All the President's Men" enough. It's tightly-structured, fiercely-paced, and captivating as all get-out. If necessary, watch it twice: once to find out who's who, the second time to savour the handiwork. If you want to talk more about it, leave a red flag on the potted plant on your balcony.
As a 20-year-old male, I realize that I am not the target audience for "Strike!" (is the exclamation point part of the title?). This is a film aimed at teenage girls and it is designed to make them giggle, cheer, and revel in the joys of being flighty and immature. Telling the story of a girl's prep school, the movie puts forth a strong message of female independance and pride.
But, wow, is it a bad film! Good intentions aside, this thing made me wish for the disciplined, mature filmmaking of "Now and Then." Forgettable characters, cliched situations, and a flat script make this bastion of girl power tired, obnoxious, and moronic.
It is hard to dismiss the offhand way the film deals with bulimia and sexual harassment. We learn early on that Tweety (the wonderful Heather Matarazzo) barfs up every meal she eats, fearing she is too fat. The film never, NEVER does anything to resolve the issue; it is as if Tweety's bulimia is a CHARACTER TRAIT, played for comic relief. God. Also, when a teacher tries to hop in the sack with Odette (Gaby Hoffmann) it is dealt with in a whimsical, "hilarious" manner.
The plot is crowded and not very interesting. Boys, co-ed education, strife among friends, yadda yadda yadda. These things are part of a teenage girl's life, I know, but you know why these make uninteresting topics for a movie? BECAUSE THE LIVES OF TEENAGE GIRLS ARE UNINTERESTING!!!! This film is a celluloid version of YM magazine; glossy, hollow, and superficial.
The one redeeming feature is the actors. Lynn Redgrave is fabulous in the tired role of the strict yet kindly headmistress. Hoffmann and Matarazzo are good, Kirsten Dunst is strong, and the rest of the cast is effective (with one notable exception, see below). The highlight, though, acting-wise is the charming Rachel Leigh Cook who gives her role a brightness and depth it doesn't deserve. Cook is not just another pretty face; she can really ACT. Someone please give her a movie deserving of her talents.
The notable exception would have to be the entire gang of Flat Critters, lead by the smarmy, irritating Vincent Kartheiser. If there was anyone as false and one-dimensional as this terrible character in real life, they'd be beaten half to dealth. The whole Flat Critters posse is another fake nail in this movie's coffin of artificiality.
I saw this film as "The Advocate," not that it matters, but just so you know. The place where I rented it didn't have the original box, so I had NO idea what the film was about. I was, um, surprised.
Colin Firth plays a 15th-century lawyer (called an advocate) who moves to the country from Paris. He wants to get in touch with the real essence of the law, defending the common folk and such. As it turns out, animals can be charged with crimes as well. Poor Colin finds himself defending rats and a pig in open court. (I could make a really obvious crack about the parallels to the practices of modern law, but that's a tad crass. Truthful, but crass.)
The film's claim that the secret of the movie is along the same lines of "The Crying Game" is surely meant as a joke. Still, the movie spends too much dwelling on the absurdity of defending animals and not enough time finding a story to tell. There is some twaddle about defending a beautiful gypsy woman's pig in a murder trial, but it is never gripping or, sadly, interesting.
The acting make up for the triteness of the story, though. Firth is solid and has some great scenes with the Seigneur who owns the land and the village Firth comes to reside in. There is also a small appearance by the wonderful, underrated, nuanced, subtle IAN HOLM~ as a shady priest. The cast raises the film from the status of sideshow curiosity.
While the "Crying Game" style secret is a reference to the murder case that is (ultimately) shuffled off to the side of the movie, I have no problem revealing another big secret of "The Advocate": the sow is really a hog!!!
"Urban Legend" is a moronic film. I wish I could put it more elegantly than that, but the word "moronic" fits the film perfectly. This is a carefully constructed attempt to cash in on the teen-slasher market, nothing more. It has no flair, logic, imagination, or spirit. I only hope tripe like this has had its day at the box office.
Every cliche in the book is used in "Urban Legend." People jumping out at each other from the dark and then asking, "What are you so jumpy about?" The weirdo who has some knowledge about the murders that are occurring. The massive cast of characters, each person possibly the killer. The surprise ending. And so on and so on.
Jared Leto's main character is a bland, arrogant doofus. I was praying, hoping, wishing that the lame parka-clad killer would gut him like a freshwater trout. (By the way, how come no one says anything about a person walking around the campus in a parka. In the _summer_?? And how ridiculous is it that three different people have the SAME parka?? Arrgh!)
Alicia Witt is the one bright spot. Her charisma and ability shine through this muddle, believe it or not. I will also give credit to Joshua Jackson for abandoning his image and getting slaughtered.
The premise of a serial killer knocking off people using urban legends is good, but it falls to the tired old situations that populate movies like this. The identity of the killer is painfully obvious, just because it is the one character who is so UNobvious. The showdown is dumb, the surprise ending is laughable, and the final scene is ludicrous. This pathetic pretender is a big plate of lousy.
After seeing the first "Halloween" and not thinking much of it, I was apprehensive about the sequel. However, bad title aside, "H20" was an enjoyable slasher film that interested me more than any of 1998's other teen horror flicks.
Jamie Lee Curtis is reason enough to see the movie. As the alcoholic, paranoid Laurie Strode she brings humanity to the film, something that the slew of god-awful slashers like "Urban Legend," "I Still Know What You Did Last Summer," and "Disturbing Behaviour" neglected. A film is worthless if the audience doesn't have anything invested in the characters; everybody knows that. I cared about Laurie and didn't want to see her new life stripped away from her.
Watching the obnoxious couple getting massacred in the kitchen was enjoyable, as was poor Adam Arkin's death. Man, in this movie and on "Chicago Hope," that guy gets no respect! Thankfully, the movie didn't focus too much on the students at the prep school; this is Jamie Lee's film and it is much better that way.
There are slow bits and a few horror movie cliches (and what's up with LL Cool J's appearance at the end??), but "H20" is infinitely preferable to other 1998 slashers. Thumbs up.
I would not be giving away too much of the film to tell you that there are many, many, many, MANY scenes of Lucas (the young protagonist) walking and looking at things! Yep. And you'll be happy to know that the first third of the movie is pointless, meaningless, and pretty much ignored for the rest of the film!
This movie is populated by dull people who do dull things, and the dullest person of them all is young Lucas, who is going blind and needs an operation. You see, he has delusions, terrible delusions! He thinks a killer is preying on blind women! He walks around a lot and acts like an insufferable jerk!
Patience does NOT pay off with this film. By the end, the plot and events are just as confusing and lethargic, and it is very hard to care one way or the other about what any of the nightmarish images meant. Nothing is made clear, the film moves at a snail's pace, and it left me with the same effects of a hangover.
Judging from "Afraid of the Dark," the British don't make stupid thrillers like the Americans do; they make boring ones.
Jodie Foster's performance is good and the gang rape scene at the end of the film is horrific, but the whole movie has the unfortunate feel of a made-for-TV movie. As Jarvis Cocker of Pulp sang, "A movie made for TV, with bad dialogue, bad acting, and no interest. Along with no story and no sex."
Actually, I don't feel the movie was THAT uneventful (I just wanted to squeeze in the Pulp reference, to tell you the truth.) But the difficult subject matter is rendered tame with a boring court case and lots of "You can't win this trial!" dialogue between Kelly McGillis and her bosses. What's worse, the conclusion of the case of the case is never in doubt. Yawn.
The movie is best when it focuses on how Sarah reacts to the rape. She is a fragile woman who acts braver than she is, and her struggle with the rape is rendered clearly and plainly on Foster's face and in her mannerisms. The scene in the record store is uncomfortable and disconcerting, as it should be.
McGillis, though, isn't believable as the prosecutor. She is too bland, too unconvincing; she seems like a calculated attempt at a strong woman character. She never exists as anything more than "the lawyer."
This could have been a very powerful film, one that conveys the pain and anguish of such a terrible crime. As it is, I had to settle for a few powerful moments and some toothless filler.
Hurt is fabulous, Pullman is lovestruck, and Davis doesn't suck!
No one is better at playing cold, distant men who are cut off from their feelings than William Hurt. His gift for bring emotionally-isolated men to life is on full display in "The Accidental Tourist," a sad yet uplifting tale about grief and the ability to love.
The acting in the film is superb, not surprising considering the caliber of the cast. Hurt, Kathleen Turner, Geena Davis, Bill Pullman, David Ogden Stiers, and Ed Begley Jr. are strong enough to make any film watchable, at least. When given a strong script, like they are with "Tourist," the whole film runs smoothly.
The script by Frank Galati (based on the novel by Anne Tyler) is crisp and intelligent, never pandering to the audience. When Macon (Hurt) has to chose between the two women in his life, the dilemma is not resolved neatly, like in many films. It is portrayed as a difficult, life-wrenching choice. Such honesty is refreshing.
Although the death of Macon's son casts a fog of grief over the movie, humour and good will does shine through. Macon's blossoming relationship with Geena Davis' character is charming, the chemistry between the siblings is funny as hell, and Pullman is wonderful as Macon's lovestruck publisher.
The film is a tad too long, but all told, "The Accidental Tourist" is a moving contemplation about the communication between people and how it affects mourning, love, and friendship. Good stuff.
I'll give credit where credit is due, and say that Linda Fiorentino gives a good performance as a hard-drinking actress who does what she wants. She's brash, sassy, hard-edged, and very sexy; she is much better than this film deserves.
But that is IT. This dull suspense film is a fragmented mess, attempting at once to be a stalker thriller, a murder thriller, a tale of loyalty and betrayal, and a steamy erotic thriller. The film, my friends, isn't thrilling in the slightest.
For instance, who thought of casting C. Thomas Howell as a desirable leading man? He is not ugly, but for crying out loud, it looks as though Fiorentino's tough-cookie goddess is getting it on with a kindergarten teacher. Howell has neither the authority or screen presence to fill the leading man role.
The script is by far the worst aspect of the film. There is no tension as Fiorentino's character gets eerie phone calls, there is no mystery concerning her guilt in the murders that are the focus of the film, there is no sense of liberation as Fiorentino gets wimpy Howell to lose his inhibitions.
Look for interesting but poorly-done cameos by Adam Ant and Issac Hayes, and one really, really good sex scene between Howell and Fiorentino. Besides that, my first impulse would be to put this sorry piece of trash down and go rent something else.
I am sure that many people enjoyed "Mean Guns" on a purely shoot-em-up level. I enjoy a good violent action flick as much as the next guy, but this one was too repetitive and too corny to enjoy.
It was fun in a trashy kind of way, but fails to reach any level of discernible quality. All the characters are shallow caricatures; they are given a certain attribute and forced to play it up for the whole movie. We have no investment in the characters because they don't ring true; they're cartoon characters.
The plot is intriguing, but the movie is content to let a bunch of scumbags kill each other rather than mixing psychological motivation amid the violence. I didn't know or care about any of the characters that got shot, stabbed, beaten or blown up.
The only pleasure I got from "Mean Guns" was trying to decide which performance was worse: Ice-T's or Lambert's. I still haven't made up my mind. Oh yeah, watch for the scene with the girl whose head is set on fire. Laughable. And the ending is ridiculous. Pass this one over, folks. It was straight-to-tape for a reason.
Do you want to experience cinematic pain and suffering? If so, do yourself a favour and rent "Cold Justice."
For quite some time, this was the worst film I've ever seen. It is a tedious, bloated, nonsensical movie with a cast of about 25 main character and a plot that is practically impossible to recap. The script is in virtual limbo for the hour-and-forty-five minutes this wounded puppy drags on; there is lots and lots and lots of talking, but little action and NO drama.
Roger Daltrey leads this no-star cast as a retired boxer who wants to get back into the business...or something. It is never made clear. This goal of his is buried as he and the rest of the characters go from bar to bar discussing their problems. The sheer number of main characters makes this process excruciating. Before too long, I lost track of who was who, what everbody's problem was, even what bar they were at!
There are so many bad moments in this movie I could sit here all day describing them. If you do happen to find it, look for such terrible moments as:
the part where the whole cast goes on a road-trip! - the guy who keeps singing "Big Spender!" - the pointless suicide by one of the characters! - the mob/priest feud! - and, finally, the classic line, "Well, I'll just take the little bugger off, then!"
"Cold Justice" must be seen to be believed. It is hypno-helio static stasis at full effect. Blah!