Film Freak Central

The Larry Sanders Show: The Entire First Season (1992) - DVD

Image C+ Sound B Extras B-
"The Garden Weasel (a.k.a. What Have You Done For Me Lately?)," "Promise," "Spiders," "The Guest Host," "The New Producer," "The Flirt," "Hank's Contract," "Out of the Loop," "The Talk Show," "The Party," "Warmth," "A Brush with the Elbow of Greatness," "Hey Now"

by Bill Chambers TV was born puritanical and never really took the stick out of its ass. We don't even think of cable as TV--one asks, "What's on TV?" vs. "What's on cable?" It's a television medium, a bastard offspring, and what I love--one of the things I love--about "The Larry Sanders Show" is that it revolves around TV but could only be a cable show. You'll wish, after a couple of episodes, that network sitcoms weren't still so reined-in by standards and practices and beholden to children up past their bedtimes, as "The Larry Sanders Show" makes poetry of profanity and has a sadistic, altering worldview, particularly on business relationships and the entertainment industry. One whiff of it wipes the Stepford smile off TV's face.

Dragon and the Hawk (2001) - DVD

*½/**** Image D Sound D
starring Julian Jung Lee, Barbara Gehring, Trygve Lode
screenplay by Robert Gosnell
directed by Mark Steven Grove

by Walter Chaw I came to the startling and somewhat crushing realization midway through it that not only have I seen worse movies than Mark Steven Grove's Dragon and the Hawk, I've seen worse movies today. Shot in and around Denver and Littleton, Colorado at locations where I've been tooling about for most of my life, Dragon and the Hawk is formula chop-socky involving martial arts master "Dragon" (Korean Tae Kwan Do expert Julian Lee) as a fish out of water looking for his missing sister (Gayle Galvez). The villain Therion (Trygve Lode) has abducted li'l sis and is injecting her with some kind of serum that turns innocent schoolgirls into goth hench-chicks. It's up to Dragon and maverick cop "Hawk" (Barbara Gehring) to save the Denver metropolitan area from...goth hench-chicks, I guess.

Venomous (2001) - DVD

½*/**** Image A- Sound C Extras B
starring Treat Williams, Mary Page Keller, Hannes Jaenicke, Geoff Pierson
screenplay by Dan Golden
directed by Ed Raymond

by Walter Chaw I have a theory about Treat Williams: I believe that he, after being passed over for an Oscar for his magnificent performance in the 1981 Sidney Lumet film Prince of the City, has been on a vicious retributive rampage against the American viewing public. There can be no other explanation for an obviously gifted actor to have starred in three Substitute sequels and in films alongside Joe Piscopo and Michelle Pfeiffer. After watching the direct-to-video shocker Venomous, directed and commented upon by one of the keepers of Ed Wood's flame, Ed Raymond (a.k.a. Fred Olen Ray, Nicholas Medina), I officially concede victory to Williams. You win this round, Mr. Williams--no más...no más.

Joy Ride (2001) [Special Edition] - DVD

*½/**** Image A Sound A+ Extras B
starring Paul Walker, Steve Zahn, Leelee Sobieski, Matthew Kimbrough
screenplay by Clay Tarver & JJ Abrams
directed by John Dahl

by Walter Chaw John Dahl's latest foray into knock-off B-movie territory is Joy Ride, a film that indulges an awkward dedication to hiding the face of its villain (which results in the biggest cheat of the film at its conclusion), presents predictably misogynistic victimizations for both of its female characters (followed by weak-wristed salvations), and demands an ironclad suspension of disbelief that the bad guy is omniscient, omnipresent, and only ruthless when there isn't a long speech to be made. The joyless Joy Ride is a leaden collection of cheap thriller clichés redolent with the flop-sweat stench of stale desperation and clumsy sleight-of-hand, a stultifying series of promising set-ups with threadbare pay-offs. The film drives home its cautionary message against childishness with an increasing immaturity--it's the equivalent of burying a toddler up to the neck for throwing a tantrum, and though it will predictably (and fairly) be compared against The Hitcher and Duel, the most telling stolen moment in Joy Ride is a cornfield intrigue that substitutes the evil crop duster from North by Northwest for a rumbling semi tractor-trailer that somehow locates its prey in the dead of night amongst concealing stalks.

Queen of the Damned (2002)

**/****
starring Stuart Townsend, Marguerite Moreau, Aaliyah, Vincent Perez
screenplay by Scott Abbott and Michael Petroni
directed by Michael Rymer

by Walter Chaw The latest big-screen adaptation of an Anne Rice Vampire Chronicle, Queen of the Damned looks great but remains the sad product of Rice's juvenilia and velvet eroticism. Its sweaty mythmaking matched by its thirty-something-decade whining, the film substitutes blood for semen in its kinky puerility (a rose-petal love scene is a classic in scarlet euphemism) and becomes boring and pat when it should've been trashy and unapologetic. The greatest problem with the film isn't as obvious as its bad writing and weak structure: it's that Queen of the Damned tries to make sense where none is to be made.

Piňero (2002)

**/****
starring Benjamin Bratt, Giancarlo Esposito, Talisa Soto, Nelson Vasquez
written and directed by Leon Ichaso

by Walter Chaw The problem with disconnected narratives and the (empty) conceit of alternating film stocks of equally shoddy quality is that what is intended as evocation of the character's grimy chaotic shiftlessness can come off as cinematic smoke and mirrors. Was Miguel Piňero a poet of the devil's part or was he just a scrapper in rat's alley? The answer is a difficult one. Like most third world or disadvantaged artists, Piňero acquisitioned the art of the ruling class: Of the three poems recited in their entirety over the course of Leon Ichaso's scattershot biopic Piňero, the first of them hijacks Percy Shelley's 1819 "Ode to the West Wind" (in its shift from Shelley's "withered leaves to quicken a new birth" to Piňero's "candy wrappers in the wind") and the last of them Longfellow's "My Lost Youth." The purpose of that reinvention is, of course, to take on, like Yeats's Leda, the power of the representational tradition of that with which one would prefer to be equated. Failing that, it makes a Basquiat pop-art impression to subtly pervert familiar images--an instant credibility from an almost parasitic revisionism of which Ichaso's film seems to suggest Piňero was self-aware. Regardless of Ichaso's insistence, I still harbour doubts as to the Nuyerican poet's artistic self-knowledge and his long-term viability as a compelling literary voice.

Dragstrip Girl (1994) - DVD

ZERO STARS/**** Image D Sound D
starring Raymond Cruz, Mark Dacascos, Natasha Gregson Wagner, Traci Lords
screenplay by Jerome Gary
directed by Mary Lambert

by Walter Chaw Unspeakably horrendous, Showtime's excruciating Dragstrip Girl finds its way to home video eight years after its initial airing. There is nothing to recommend this film save perhaps a quarter of a Traci Lords breast glimpsed briefly from behind. It's appalling in every conceivable measure of quality, from acting to screenplay to direction to editing; the only thing that kept me going is the ghoulish realization that the lovely Natasha Gregson Wagner (who is an exquisitely bad actress) now has a period drag-racing movie just like her mom Natalie Wood. (They even share the same costume in a particularly tasteless homage.) I can only think that Dragstrip Girl is getting a video release now because the surprise success of star Mark Dacascos's Brotherhood of the Wolf might sucker a few people into renting the benighted thing. That avaricious, spur-of-the-moment thinking explains why the the film's DVD transfer is so awful, but it doesn't explain why Dragstrip Girl itself is, too.

Italian for Beginners (2000)

Italiensk for begyndere
***/****
starring Anders W. Berthelsen, Anette Støvelbæk, Peter Gantzler, Ann Eleonora Jørgensen
written and directed by Lone Scherfig

by Walter Chaw Dogme 95 is a naïve and self-gratifying cinematic movement founded by Danish filmmakers Thomas Vinterberg, Lars Von Trier, Søren Kragh-Jacobsen, and Kristian Levring. Between them they drafted a(n oft-betrayed) manifesto dedicated to "rescuing" motion pictures from artifice by forbidding special lighting and props brought in from off-site, by advocating handheld camerawork, and by urging an avoidance of recognizable genre definitions. Too often that obsession with bypassing convention plays a little like convention; over the course of eleven films, it has defined a disquieting genre all its own.

Beijing Bicycle (2001)

***/****
starring Lin Cui, Xun Zhou, Yuanyuan Gao, Shuang Li
screenplay by Peggy Chiao, Hsiao-ming Hsu, Danian Tang, Xiaoshuai Wang
directed by Xiaoshuai Wang

by Walter Chaw The pivotal scene in Wang Xiaoshuai's Beijing Bicycle comes near the end: a gang of young toughs is chasing a country boy and a city boy through a sprawling labyrinth of houses in a questionable section of Beijing; one says to the other, "What are you doing? This doesn't concern you." The other replies, "I don't know my way out." Beijing Bicycle is a sparsely-written allegory of political oppression that has the visual style of an early Beat Takeshi film and the poetic reticence of the Chinese people. It is more about looks than speeches, pauses than action--and the degree to which each character finds its voice speaks volumes as to the level of self-sufficiency and freedom that each character possesses.

No Man's Land (2001)

**½/****
starring Branko Djuric, Rene Bitorajac, Filip Sovagovic, Georges Siatidis
written and directed by Danis Tanovic

by Walter Chaw Chiki (Branko Djuric) is one of two surviving members of a front-line relief party that was decimated after their guide got them lost in a fog. (From the first, the visual metaphors fly as thick as pea soup.) His companion Cera (Filip Sovagovic), thought dead by the enemy, has been placed on a pressure-sensitive mine; his antagonist, Nino (Rene Bitorajac), has been disarmed and wounded. The three of them (four if you consider the mine a character) decry their causes while overlooking their similarities. No Man's Land is at its best when it tantalizes with the possibility for resolution--and at its worst when it explodes the claustrophobia of its first hour to include the UN, the press, and a newsreel montage lending background to a conflict the movie's only ostensibly about in the first place.

The Evil Dead (1982) [The Book of the Dead Limited Edition] - DVD

****/**** Image A Sound A+ Extras A+
starring Bruce Campbell, Ellen Sandweiss, Richard DeManincor, Betsy Baker
written and directed by Sam Raimi

by Walter Chaw The Evil Dead defies wisdom: It's an ultraviolent horror film made on a nothing budget (rumoured to have been in the neighbourhood of three-thousand dollars) that still manages to produce an enduring and brilliant performance and demonstrate (like a Dario Argento shocker) that gore, if it's perverse enough, can be the beginning and the end of horror. The product of Bruce Campbell's hilariously physical turn, of Sam Raimi's genius in fashioning dazzling camera moves, and of an uncredited Joel Coen's flair at the editing table, The Evil Dead bristles with life and joy. It is a testament to how bliss and the spark of inspiration can elevate a film of any budget in any genre from routine to sublime.

Jack and the Beanstalk: The Real Story (2001) - DVD

***/**** Image A Sound A Extras C
starring Matthew Modine, Vanessa Redgrave, Mia Sara, Daryl Hannah
teleplay by James V. Hart and Brian Henson & Bill Barretta
directed by Brian Henson

by Walter Chaw Visually fascinating and texturally dark, Jim Henson Studios' Jack and the Beanstalk: The Real Story (henceforth Jack and the Beanstalk), directed by Henson heir Brian, is a hallucinogenic take on the tale of Jack the Giant Killer that posits Jack as a liar and a thief--the bad guy. Set in modern times with a descendant of the legendary Jack (also named Jack (Matthew Modine)) being the head of a large multinational corporation (shades of co-writer James V. Hart's Hook), Jack and the Beanstalk presents an occasionally captivating point of view that mythologizes big-business malfeasance as it manifests through environmental atrocity and unchecked expansion. It suggests that Jack's theft of the goose that laid the golden eggs and the singing harp results in 374 days of famine for the denizens of the giant's world--and that the giant Thunderdell (Bill Barretta) was in fact a beneficent and much-loved keeper of his people.

Queer as Folk: The Complete First Season (1999) - DVD (volumes 1 and 6 only)

Image C Sound C+ Extras ?

by Walter Chaw It's extremely difficult to review a television show in a traditional sense. Television series tend to be long-term investments--seldom is the first season of anything ("The Sopranos" being an obvious exception, "Cheers" being an obvious example) worth much of a damn, especially in comparison to later seasons, when everything hums like a well-oiled machine. Explanation for this can be found in the awkwardness inherent in too much desperate exposition crammed into too short a time. Accordingly, the first episode of "Queer as Folk", recently collected in a six-DVD box set (FILM FREAK CENTRAL was supplied only with discs one and six), is mannered and uncomfortable. That's almost beside the point.

Bully (2001) - DVD

(Oy, these early reviews. -Ed.)

***½/**** Image B+ Sound B+ Extras C+
starring Brad Renfro, Bijou Phillips, Rachel Miner, Michael Pitt
screenplay by Zachary Long & Roger Pullis, based on the book by Jim Schutze
directed by Larry Clark

by Bill Chambers An authority figure delivers the definitive line of dialogue of Bully, Larry Clark's quasi-sequel to his own hotly-contested Kids: "I don't know what you're up to. I don't think I want to know." Well, Clark insists on letting us know. Often accused, even with only three motion pictures under his belt, of over-sensationalizing already sensational material, he's hardly the next Oliver Stone. He may be something of an interfering observer, but he's not a conspiracy proselytizer running with scissors down the hallway. Where Stone drew slave parallels to football in Any Given Sunday by intercutting clips from Ben-Hur, Clark makes more organic shock statements. He can be tactless, sure. Can't we all?

John Q. (2002)

ZERO STARS/****
starring Denzel Washington, Robert Duvall, Kimberly Elise, Eddie Griffin
screenplay by James Kearns
directed by Nick Cassavetes

by Walter Chaw John Q's (Denzel Washington) chosen nom de guerre is a tripartite signifier meant to evoke Kafka, Black Muslims, and the everyman ("John Q. Public"). It's the kind of import-laden affectation that almost always indicates a screenwriter in over his head. It is, in other words, only the first hint that John Q. is going to be the kind of populist bullshit to which Oprah Winfrey will inevitably devote an hour of her terrifying television show. According to the film, though, anyone even approaching the big O's income bracket is part of The Problem.

Crossroads (2002)

ZERO STARS/****
starring Britney Spears, Zoe Saldana, Anson Mount, Taryn Manning
screenplay by Shonda Rhimes
directed by Tamra Davis

by Walter Chaw Crossroads is appalling and noxious. Consider how it maturely teaches that a young girl's choice to lose her virginity should be one based on careful consideration, and then has its heroine bed a tattooed ex-con she met five days previous; this is Smooth Talk without recognition of consequences. It stars Lolita mega-tart Britney Spears in her first movie, and the first scene we share with her is in her bedroom as she jumps up and down on the mattress in teeny underwear, quickly followed by a shot of Ms. Spears in tiny pink Victoria's Secret attire hopping into bed with her dorky lab partner before reconsidering the big leap. We also get shots of Spears in a sleazy Louisiana nightclub, where she finally erases any line left between her act and a strip show, and after that a few weird angles of her posing on the hoods of cars and in motel rooms while clad in towels and bikinis. The only thing separating Crossroads from a Showtime soft porn (it has all the excrescent acting, bad soundtrack, and vaguely suggestive dialogue) is the lack of any actual nudity. Like its star, the film is just a highly inappropriate tease.

Super Troopers (2002)

½/****
starring Jay Chandrasekhar, Kevin Heffernan, Steve Lemme, Paul Soter
screenplay by Broken Lizard
directed by Jay Chandrasekhar

by Walter Chaw From the self-satisfied pens of LA/NY sketch comedy troupe "Broken Lizard" springs Super Troopers, fully formed like some Plutonian messenger from midnight-movie hell. The film is a series of skits involving a bumbling division of highway patrolmen more interested in pranking the unfortunates they pull over than in doing their jobs. Wrapped around a pathetic excuse for a plot, the vignettes vary wildly in quality from dull to slightly less dull, the lone exception being the opening sequence, which approaches the menacingly surreal. A film that debuted at last year's Sundance Film Festival and sat on the shelf since for various reasons (not the least of which is a running gag involving "Afghanistan-imation" and some mocking pro-Taliban dialogue), what Super Troopers succeeds the most in doing is providing a disquiet world the long-dreaded completion of the Police Academy series.

Iris (2001)

**/****
starring Kate Winslet, Hugh Bonneville, Judi Dench, Jim Broadbent
screenplay by Richard Eyre, Charles Wood, based on the book by John Bayley
directed by Richard Eyre

by Walter Chaw Iris wants nothing more than to be an objective look at the life and decline of British novelist Iris Murdoch (played by Kate Winslet and Dame Judi Dench) from insouciant free-love literati to decrepit Alzheimer's victim in the care of her stuttering husband, novelist and critic John Bayley (Hugh Bonneville and Jim Broadbent). But the film confuses objectivity with sentimentality, and in the process obscures its titular protagonist with maddening fragments meant to elucidate her brilliance. Iris makes the mistake of assuming that its audience is well versed in the work of Murdoch and Bayley--enough so that the loss of her mind is one that is tragic beyond the spectator's basic human decency. Iris also makes the mistake of not allowing Dench the opportunity to play Murdoch as anything but a woman in mental decline, leaving the "pre-disease" spunk and vitality to a game Winslet. The "before" and "after" shots are two different people and the film just isn't agile enough to carry an illusion contrary.

The Object of My Affection (1998) - DVD

ZERO STARS/**** Image A Sound B
starring Jennifer Aniston, Paul Rudd, Alan Alda, Nigel Hawthorne
screenplay by Wendy Wasserstein, based on the novel by Stephen McCauley
directed by Nicholas Hytner

by Walter Chaw A fascinatingly unpleasant precursor to NBC's "Will & Grace", The Object of My Affection details the predominantly platonic friendship between a romantically tortured straight woman, Nina (Jennifer Aniston), and a prototypically sensitive gay man, George (Paul Rudd). The unbearably treacly score by long-time offender George Fenton immediately announces by its very presence (and Fenton's very participation) that The Object of My Affection is going to be atrocious, and true to form, it's really atrocious. Yet to say that it's as predictable as it is sickening in its laziness (there's a VH1 music video montage in which our odd couple attends a dance class) would be to downplay the actual visceral "wrongness" of the piece, something that has nothing to do with the subject matter.

Muhammad Ali: Through the Eyes of the World (2001) - DVD

**½/**** Image A Sound A- Extras B-
directed by Phil Grabsky

by Bill Chambers One can't accuse the documentary Muhammad Ali: Through the Eyes of the World of false advertising: it filters Ali's life story through the perspective of people who don't necessarily know him but were around to feel the ripple effect he had on pop and politics in the hippie era. There is Billy Crystal, who says he couldn't sleep for days after Ali lost his title to Joe Frazier; there is Maya Angelou, she of the voice that's like a lozenge for our spiritual ills, saying she might have co-opted Ali's "Float like a butterfly/Sting like a bee" verse were it not spoken during the peak of his fame.

Fatal Error (1999) - DVD

ZERO STARS/**** Image C+ Sound C
starring Antonio Sabato Jr., Janine Turner, Robert Wagner, Jason Schombing
teleplay by Rockne S. O'Bannon, based on the novel Reaper by Ben Mezrich
directed by Armand Mastroianni

by Walter Chaw A fatal virus transmitted by an evil computer program enters via the eyes and turns people into chalk (neatly combining two plots of "The X Files"). It's up to hunky Antonio Sabato Jr., as ex-Army virologist-cum-contract paramedic Nick, and the vacuous Janine Turner, as current Army virologist Dr. Samantha, to unravel the puzzle before millions die. That Robert Wagner plays the corporate villain without a hint of irony is just one of those sad lessons about wise investments that parents should tell their children.

Don't Say a Word (2001) - DVD

*½/**** Image A- Sound A Extras B+
starring Michael Douglas, Brittany Murphy, Famke Janssen, Sean Bean
screenplay by Anthony Peckham and Patrick Smith Kelly, based on the novel by Andrew Klavan
directed by Gary Fleder

by Walter Chaw It's probably not at all surprising that lock-step director Gary Fleder's Don't Say a Word, based on a by-the-numbers novel by fiction hack Andrew Klavan (True Crime), has less original material than Michael Jackson. It opens on a heist scene that reminds of Point Break and Heat (plus a thousand other heist films), segues into a home invasion/child-snatching that recalls Michael Douglas's own Fatal Attraction, proceeds into a cell phone cat-and-mouse like Ransom, ends with a cascade of particulate debris that brings to mind Witness, and touches base to varying degrees with Sliver, Nick of Time, Instinct, Nuts, and Awakenings in particular in its sloppy patient/doctor dynamic (and the naming of a secondary character "Dr. Sachs"). There's even a bit concerning a stolen child, a mother, and a song familiar to them both taken whole from Hitchcock's remake of his own The Man Who Knew Too Much. Sadly, Don't Say a Word forgets to first establish that the tune is meaningful. It is a poignant omission that illustrates as well as any the problems of a lazy knock-off film that plays a lot of familiar notes but doesn't once strike a chord nor find a melody of its own.

Collateral Damage (2002)

ZERO STARS/****
starring Arnold Schwarzenegger, Elias Koteas, Francesca Neri, Cliff Curtis
screenplay by David Griffiths & Peter Griffiths
directed by Andrew Davis

by Walter Chaw There is an inexplicable instinct in Hollywood to cast Arnold Schwarzenegger as an everyman when the Austrian Oak has only ever played a pre-Christian barbarian and post-apocalyptic robot convincingly. Perhaps sensing something awry in Arnold playing a mild-mannered Irish fireman named Gordon Brewer, the creators of Collateral Damage have made an effort to portray Schwarzenegger's character as a comic book superhero--maybe one named "Fire Man." Brewer irrationally favours the tools of his life-saving trade (a pair of axes and a serendipitously placed sliding pole) over the far more plentiful (and practical) guns, while a cleverly donned white Panama Hat (making Arnie look a little like Leon Redbone crossed with a bratwurst) somehow successfully disguises the 6'2" goliath from seeking eyes. A pulp caped crusader comic would at least have the decency to be lurid and exciting, though--all Collateral Damage manages to be is shatteringly dull.

The Tunnel (2001)

Der Tunnel
**½/****
starring Heino Ferch, Nicolette Krebitz, Sebastian Koch, Alexandra Maria Lara
screenplay by Johannes W. Betz
directed by Roland Suso Richter

by Travis Mackenzie Hoover The Tunnel is a handsomely-mounted TV movie with a sideline in uplift. There's nothing particularly wrong with it on a professional level, but its subject matter--a group of people who tunnelled under the Berlin Wall to save friends and family--has been drained of its ideological thrust: It's so sure that we know the horrors of life in East Berlin that it never really goes into details, and in the process, it blunts its effectiveness as a piece of drama. The film may be nicely shot and well-acted, but it makes so many assumptions about what we think and how we should feel that it neither teaches us anything we didn't already know nor makes us feel the urgency of that which we already do.

Sleepless (2001) - DVD

Non ho sonno
*/**** Image D Sound D
starring Max von Sydow, Stefano Dionisi, Chiara Caselli, Gabriele Lavia
screenplay by Dario Argento, Franco Ferrini, Carlo Lucarelli
directed by Dario Argento

by Walter Chaw Italian horror master Dario Argento's desperation for a critical or popular success is starting to manifest itself in self-imitation and sloppiness. Fourteen years removed from his last good movie (Opera), his latest film Sleepless (a.k.a. Non ho sonno), starring the inimitable Max Von Sydow and heralded as a return to Argento's roots in the giallo genre, hits North American shores months after bootleg copies of it have already circulated amongst the ranks of disappointed fanboys. Sleepless lacks the savant-level spark of invention that elevates Argento's best films (Deep Red, Suspiria, Tenebre) and the flashes of brilliance that indicate his second-tier of work (Phenomena, Opera, Inferno). It is listless and painful, with fakey gore and dialogue that reaches nadir even for an auteur never known for his pen.

Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001) [2-Disc Collector's Edition] - DVD

**/**** Image A+ Sound A Extras A
screenplay by Tab Murphy
directed by Gary Trousdale & Kirk Wise

by Walter Chaw Clearly trying to gain some anime credibility by aping the mystical mumbo jumbo of Akira in an unfathomable third act, jettisoning the musical romantic comedy format, and inserting a few subtitles, Disney's Atlantis: The Lost Empire (henceforth Atlantis) has moments of true grandeur, though it has a good many more of pure Disney. It gets hip genre credibility from the story contributions of "Hellboy" creator Mike Mignola and "Buffy" scribe Joss Whedon, but the best of intentions often lead to the worst of eventualities, and Atlantis is ultimately less "wow" than "oh, boy" and, eventually, "huh?"

Bubble Boy (2001) - DVD

**½/**** Image A Sound A Extras B
starring Jake Gyllenhaal, Swoosie Kurtz, Marley Shelton, Danny Trejo
screenplay by Cinco Paul & Ken Daurio
directed by Blair Hayes

by Walter Chaw At its giant heart, Bubble Boy attempts the Herculean task of convincing us that the best parts of America died with the forced naiveté of "Land of the Lost". Single-handedly, the film tries to resurrect the cheesiness of that awful Kroft Brothers' show that held my generation transfixed after Saturday morning cartoons, allowing its titular protagonist to play a mean electric guitar version of its theme song (provided by Dweezil Zappa) while featuring a dream sequence cobbled together from outtakes from that late, lamented prehistoric Neverland. If this strikes you as a strange thing for a movie to try, consider that Bubble Boy is also the finest Todd Solondz film that Solondz never made.

The Smokers (2001) - DVD

*½/**** Image B- Sound C
starring Dominique Swain, Busy Philipps, Keri Lynn Pratt, Nicholas M. Loeb
screenplay by Christina Peters and Kenny Golde
directed by Christina Peters

by Bill Chambers Thora Birch turns around in the closing shot of The Smokers and sticks her tongue out at the camera. Short of adding a raspberry sound, we couldn't ask for a more pithy review of the film, even if Birch's gesture wasn't intended as such. (Whatever the case, it's a bit of fourth-wall breaking that ultimately feels cathartic.) The Smokers is aimless, feckless, and finally bad, an indie made with an absence not only of cash but also vision, though the fact that it doesn't have any major-studio obligations leaves the filmmakers free to present complex female characters. Too bad they are that way in large part because their actions are so damn inexplicable.

The Testimony of Taliesin Jones (2002)

Small Miracles
Taliesin Jones
*½/****
starring Jonathan Pryce, Ian Bannen, Griff Rhys Jones, Geraldine James
screenplay by Maureen Tilyou, based on the book The Testimony of Taliesin Jones by Rhidian Brook
directed by Martin Duffy

"Excessive sorrow gains nothing,
Nor will doubting God's miracles.
Although I am small, I am skilful"
--6^th century, Taliesin

by Walter Chaw Chief Bard of Britain and a Celtic shaman, the historical Taliesin lived in Wales in the sixth century, his poems the direct precursor to the Arthur legend as well as his own as a druidic shape-shifter and spiritual healer. (He's thought to be the inspiration for the Merlin character.) Rhidian Brook's well-regarded children's tome The Testimony of Taliesin Jones concerns a quiet child who, stricken by the divorce of his parents, turns to faith-healing to deal with the arbitrary turmoil of his life. With its heart so clearly in the right place, it's hard to come down too hard on Martin Duffy's same-named cinematic adaptation of Brook's text, but the film is so intent on capturing the spiritual aspects of its title character and its namesake that it gives short shrift to the tragedy of its familial disintegration, discarding subtlety, too, in its proselytizing wake.

Slackers (2002)

**/****
starring Devon Sawa, Jason Schwartzman, James King, Michael C. Maronna
screenplay by David H. Steinberg
directed by Dewey Nicks

by Walter Chaw A film that does for masturbation what Freddy Got Fingered did for manually pleasuring large land mammals, Slackers is a teen revenge/romance film (a bellicose cross between Real Genius and Three o'Clock High) that surprises for its random Conan O'Brien-esque spark of perverse invention. There are at least two sequences that belong in a better film, and they're tied together by a gross-out comedy that vacillates between the typical (a vibrator gag) and the surreal (a talking penis-powered sock puppet). It's an amalgam of Farrelly Brothers archetypes (i.e., the flawless inamorata: gorgeous, kind, candy striper) and Jason Schwartzman's Rushmore-brand of aggressive outcast, and though it spends long minutes flirting with "potential cult favourite," Slackers ends up as just another ugly also-ran.

A Rumor of Angels (2002)

*½/****
starring Vanessa Redgrave, Ray Liotta, Catherine McCormack, Trevor Morgan
screenplay by James Eric & Jamie Horton & Peter O'Fallon, based on the book Thy Son Liveth: Messages From A Soldier To His Mother by Grace Duffie
directed by Peter O'Fallon

by Walter Chaw A Rumor of Angels is a maudlin tearjerker in the rarely interesting "gimp on the hill" tradition (The Man Without a Face, Finding Forrester, Heidi): a child befriends the town outcast to teach us all a little about acceptance through a series of rote vignettes. Peter O'Fallon's belated follow-up to his claustrophobic neo-Tarantino gangster flick Suicide Kings is long on twinkly-eyed close-ups and short on shame. A young boy (Trevor Morgan) trespasses on a wizened hag's property (Vanessa Redgrave), gets shot at, suffers a post-traumatic stress fit at a bridge (the source of which is not ever a mystery, considering the boy's mother has recently died), and gets picked up by his weird uncle (Ron Livingston, overacting). There is never a question that the boy and the old lady will become dear pals, never a doubt that they will fill a void in one another's life, and never an uncertainty that the kid's skeptical parents (Ray Liotta as his dad and Catherine McCormack as his stepmother) will eventually come around.