Film Freak Central

TIFF '02: 8 Femmes

8 Women
***/****
starring Danielle Darrieux, Catherine Deneuve, Isabelle Huppert, Emmanuelle Béart
screenplay by François Ozon, Marina de Van, based on the play by Robert Thomas
directed by François Ozon

by Bill Chambers Almost every French actress I can rhyme off without help from the audience is in the cast of François Ozon's 8 Femmes, a delightfully odd murder mystery with song-and-dance interludes. (Imagine if John Waters had directed Clue.) The film takes place during Christmastime in 1950s France at a country manor where various women have gathered to celebrate the holidays with Marcel, the only significant man in any of their lives. But Marcel has been stabbed in the back (literally), and a snowdrift outside leaves the eight femmes of the title stranded together with nothing to do other than accuse each other of his murder. Was it Marcel's loveless wife (Catherine Deneuve)? One of his off-kilter daughters (Virginie Ledoyen and Ludivine Sagnier)? Marcel's "ugly" sister-in-law (Isabelle Huppert, in horn-rimmed glasses) or his patently dishonest mother-in-law (Danielle Darrieux)? His promiscuous sister by blood (Fanny Ardant)? Or did the butler--rather, either of the two maidservants (Firmine Richard and Emmanuelle Béart)--do it? With a plot that strikes as stream-of-consciousness and musical numbers that do, too, 8 Femmes indicates little desire to change the world, but it works as a frothy, hyper-theatrical experience. Compounding the amusement are the sparse, candy-coloured sets--which bring to mind Gold Key comics from yesteryear--and watching so many famously sedate performers let their hair down; one can't imagine the Meg Ryan remake of The Women, in lieu of which this film was made (and, like 8 Femmes, planned to feature an exclusively female cast), being half as much fun. PROGRAM: Special Presentations

TIFF '02: L'Idole

The Idol
**½/****
starring Leelee Sobieski, James Hong, Jean-Paul Roussillon, Jalil Lespert
screenplay by Gérard Brach, Samantha Lang, based on the novel À l'heure dite by Michelle Tourneur
directed by Samantha Lang

by Bill Chambers I'm largely indifferent to L' Idole, a Gallic production directed by an Australian and co-starring two Americans of different ethnicities who admirably perform their parts in French. Leelee Sobieski's task is made more difficult by the role's requirement of her to deliver foreign-language dialogue in a tertiary accent, as the native New Yorker plays an Australian touring France with a theatre company. (I'm not enough of a linguist to gauge her success at it.) Sarah Silver (Sobieski) moves into a Paris co-op and befriends next-door neighbour and former cook Mr. Zao (James Hong), an elderly gentleman who comes out of retirement, so to speak, to wait on Sarah hand and foot. Co-written, pointedly, by frequent Polanski collaborator Gérard Brach, L' Idole thus bears a passing resemblance to the Sobieski starrer My First Mister but replaces Hollywood bullshit with European humbug--the last half-hour is full of stock ambiguities and the filmmakers mistaking Sarah's coquettishness for depth of character. (And, it must be said, the moment in which Sarah tells Mr. Zao that they will never make love drains the movie of its compelling sexual tension, however questionable.) Save a Storytelling-esque subplot involving a duplicitous little girl, the picture draws its power from the worldly Hong, perhaps best known on these shores as the centuries-old villain from Big Trouble in Little China; Hong overcomes L' Idole's tendency to dismiss Chinese courtliness out of hand--cavalier treatment of Mr. Zao by every other character, in other words--with a defiant dignity. I just hope it's not his swan song, because going out as the sage equivalent to Ghost World's Seymour is no kind of curtain for this screen legend. PROGRAM: Contemporary World Cinema

Frailty (2002) - DVD

***½/**** Image A- Sound A Extras B+
starring Bill Paxton, Matthew McConaughey, Powers Boothe, Matthew O'Leary
screenplay by Brent Hanley
directed by Bill Paxton

by Walter Chaw Dad (Bill Paxton) gets lists of demons from God. He has also provided Dad with three weapons with which to dispatch said demons: a pair of work gloves, a length of pipe, and an axe named "Otis." Oldest boy Fenton (Matthew O'Leary) and his little brother Adam (Jeremy Sumpter) are left to decide whether Dad is indeed touched by divine hand or just another redneck serial killer in a white van.

Near Dark (1987) - DVD (THX)

****/**** Image A+ Sound A Extras A-
starring Adrian Pasdar, Jenny Wright, Lance Henriksen, Bill Paxton
screenplay by Kathryn Bigelow and Eric Red
directed by Kathryn Bigelow

by Walter Chaw There is an element of the delirious in Kathryn Bigelow's superb, genre-bending nomadic vampire fable Near Dark--an element of the hopelessly erotic, the melancholic, the breathless. Like the best vampire myths, it recognizes that the root of the monster lies in sexual consumption and addiction, in the interplay between nostalgia for the freedom of youth and the pricklier remembrance of the confused fever dreams of adolescence. (Hence the recurrence in modern myth of a Methuselah beast trapped in the soft body of a child.)

Your Secret is Safe with Payami: FFC Interviews Babak Payami

August 25, 2002|I met Babak Payami last week while he was drinking an espresso in a leather-upholstered booth at a chichi Denver eatery. In town to discuss his second film, Secret Ballot (Raye makhfi), Payami was not the craggy visage in a fisherman's knit-wool sweater with a shock of white hair--the living incarnation of Samuel Beckett as would befit the author of a film that plays like a cross between "Waiting for Godot" and "Endgame"--I expected. Instead, I was greeted by a compact, powerful-seeming man in a sweater. Articulate and confident, yes, but there the similarity to papa Sam ended.

Butler Did It: FFC Interviews George Butler

August 25, 2002|George Butler is perhaps best known as the maverick filmmaker behind 1977's Pumping Iron, the benchmark bodybuilding documentary that almost single-handedly introduced a young Austrian fellow by the name of Arnold Schwarzenegger to American audiences. Each of Butler's subsequent projects have been examinations of the urge for achievement in ages of relative leisure, from the groundbreaking female bodybuilders of Pumping Iron II, the big game hunting of the disaster- and controversy-ridden project In the Blood, and finally this year's IMAX Shackleton's Antarctic Adventure and companion feature-length documentary The Endurance: Shackleton's Legendary Antarctic Expedition. Despite the similarity of Mr. Butler's projects, the bonhomie growing between people during strife and outrageous circumstance, and the evolution (or lack thereof) of machismo, he frowns on discussions of intentionality in his work and choices of subject material. That's something that I learned the hard way. (Please note: this interview was conducted during last winter's awards season.)

High Crimes (2002) - DVD

½/**** Image A Sound A Extras B
starring Ashley Judd, Morgan Freeman, James Caviezel, Adam Scott
screenplay by Yuri Zeltser & Cary Bickley, based on the novel by Joseph Finder
directed by Carl Franklin

by Walter Chaw Its title too easy a condemnation of the film itself, the otherwise-talented Carl Franklin's High Crimes is a sickly, by-the-numbers member of a proud lineage of films that includes such abortive boondoggles as The Presidio, A Few Good Men, The General's Daughter, True Crime, and eventually What Lies Beneath. It begs the question of whether Morgan Freeman, unquestionably the American actor with the most commanding presence and charisma, will ever get a film that's truly worthy of him--and whether professional punching-bag Ashley Judd will meekly get the stuffing knocked out of her in the upcoming Catwoman as well. It confirms that Jim Caviezel should consider either a cup of coffee or a different career, that Amanda Peet was probably born sucking on a lollipop and wearing Daisy Dukes, and that after having seen some variation on High Crimes for the umpteenth uncountable time, I have grown, unquestionably, very weary of it.

Little Secrets (2002)

*/****
starring Evan Rachel Wood, Michael Angarano, David Gallagher, Vivica A. Fox
screenplay by Jessica Barondes
directed by Blair Treu

by Walter Chaw I fear that Blair Treu's Little Secrets is the latest picture to fall victim to my predisposition against insipid and trite films. The problem with my bias in this instance is that there is a considerable segment of the middle-class population at large that seems particularly enamoured with such fare, particularly as it manifests under the aegis of "family entertainment" or Meg Ryan movies. It's only a problem, I hasten to add, because I hate arguing with the upper-reaching bourgeoisie--there is no good way, after all, to explain to the fuzzily intractable why a self-pitying adopted girl who makes money like Lucy from the "Peanuts" strip while staying home to practice violin in anticipation of an orchestra tryout is more suited for the dinosaur prose of big-print Beverly Clearys than for the voluntary consumption of any self-respecting human being.

Return to Never Land (2002) - DVD

*/**** Image A Sound A Extras C+
screenplay by Temple Mathews and Carter Crocker
directed by Robin Budd, Donovan Cook

by Bill Chambers I can only assume that Disney buried Peter Pan in Stephen King's pet sematary, for resurrected in the misbegotten Return to Never Land is one sour Fairy King. In the original Peter Pan, the title character lost his shadow; in the sequel, Peter is all shadow, a fascist dictator separated from the malicious Captain Hook by a single distinguishing feature: the hook. Return to Never Land pits the two in conflict once more, this time over the stolen treasure of Captain Hook, which Peter has stowed away for a rainy day. The movie gives no indication as to how Hook acquired the chest full of gold in the first place, thus our introduction to Peter is as a thief. And by the end of the picture, that's the kindest thing I could think to call him.

Serving Sara (2002)

ZERO STARS/****
starring Matthew Perry, Elizabeth Hurley, Vincent Pastore, Bruce Campbell
screenplay by Jay Scherick & David Ronn
directed by Reginald Hudlin

by Walter Chaw Reginald Hudlin's Serving Sara is a miserable, listless, pathetic excuse for a movie. It's already dreadful by the time Matthew Perry finds himself shoulder-deep in a bull's rectum, after which it defies a few natural laws by somehow getting worse. There are no laughs to be found in the whole of this lugubrious shipwreck--even the sight of Perry getting the tar beaten out of him by a pair of Italian caricatures is a sour, joyless affair. Seeing as being physically humiliated is Perry's sole silver-screen reason for being (see also: The Whole Nine Yards), that his getting kicked and punched is not ever at all amusing says a great deal about the relentless excrescence of this exercise. I would add that at least it's better than the amazingly awful Perry vehicle Almost Heroes, except that it's not.

24 Hour Party People (2002)

***½/****
starring Steve Coogan, Keith Allen, Rob Brydon, Enzo Cilenti
screenplay by Frank Cottrell Boyce
directed by Michael Winterbottom

by Walter Chaw Inviting direct comparisons to Todd Haynes's ebullient Velvet Goldmine with a flying saucer, Michael Winterbottom's brilliant 24 Hour Party People apes, too, a great deal of the style and tone from that film: insouciant, arch, and invested in giving over the stage to the zeitgeist of an era through its youth culture and its music. 24 Hour Party People distinguishes itself, however, with a flip, post-modern absurdism that includes asides to the camera ("I'm being post-modern before it became popular") and a certain self-awareness that somehow encapsulates the discursive, free-associative madness of Factory Records founder Tony Wilson (Steve Coogan). Beginning with The Sex Pistols' first performance in 1976 before a rapt crowd of 42 people, the picture takes on a dizzying kind of animal logic, stalking the fortunes of the "New Wave" Manchester ethos of Joy Division (into the band they became, New Order), Happy Mondays, the Hacienda dance club, and, most importantly, Wilson himself--part huckster, part savant. All along, Wilson cues us that the world is about to change and that this band of brothers, this group of bouncing, sullen, devotees to a new punk energy, are the men who will change it.

Strictly Sinatra (2001) [Widescreen] - DVD

Cocozza's Way
**½/**** Image A Sound A-
starring Ian Hart, Kelly Macdonald, Brian Cox, Alun Armstrong
written and directed by Peter Capaldi

by Walter Chaw A smalltime flick in which a smalltime crooner accidentally becomes a smalltime hood, hyphenate Peter Capaldi's sophomore feature Strictly Sinatra (a.k.a. Cocozza's Way) is an enjoyable crime romance about a longtime loser with a bottom-shelf whiskey voice who falls for cigarette-girl Irene (Kelly Macdonald). A rendering of "In the Ghetto" leads to a bought drink to a favour paid to crime boss Chisolm (Brian Cox), followed fast by the slow sneaking realization that our little Toni Cocozza (Ian Hart) has been drawn into a spider's den of organized crime.

Tarzan & Jane (2002) - DVD

½*/**** Image A Sound B Extras D
written by Bill Motz & Bob Roth and Mirith J. Colao and John Behnke & Rob Humphrey & Jim Peterson and Jess Winfield
directed by Steve Loter

by Walter Chaw Like most other Disney direct-to-video sequels, Tarzan & Jane was poorly scripted, looped in a tin can, and abominably animated. It's not even up to the standard of a cheap Saturday-morning cartoon--we're talking Nintendo64 here. The second Disney foray into the realm of everyone's favourite late-Victorian bestiality fantasy, Tarzan & Jane takes a page out of the surreally bad Cinderella II by presenting an anthology format that breaks up the plotting responsibilities into stultifying and manageable chunks. Its framing story something to do with the approach of the odd couple's first year anniversary, the wise-cracking duo of gorilla Turk and elephant Tantor remind Jane of the tumult of T & J's common-law existence.

Wild in the Country (1961) + The Razor's Edge (1984) - DVDs

WILD IN THE COUNTRY
***/**** Image A- Sound B+
starring Elvis Presley, Hope Lange, Tuesday Weld, Millie Perkins
screenplay by Clifford Odets, based on the novel by J.R. Salamanca
directed by Philip Dunne

THE RAZOR'S EDGE
***/**** Image B- Sound B-
starring Bill Murray, Theresa Russell, Catherine Hicks, Denholm Elliot
screenplay by John Byrum & Bill Murray, based on the novel by W. Somerset Maugham
directed by John Byrum

by Bill Chambers It occurs to me that many of the most ungainly movies about love--and in the end, most movies are (about love, that is)--have gotten it right for their very awkwardness as cinematic constructs. This week, in the August funk that used to correspond with the encroaching schoolyear but is now some vague collegiate-nostalgia trip, I shook the salt of Wild in the Country, The Razor's Edge, Pretty in Pink, and Some Kind of Wonderful (the latter two to be covered in a separate piece) on my reopened wounds and came away impressed not by the art of these films, but by their emotional complexity. What you see in all four of these pictures that you perhaps don't often enough is that money tends to govern attraction.

We Were Soldiers (2002) - DVD

***/**** Image A- Sound A+ Extras B
starring Mel Gibson, Madeleine Stowe, Sam Elliott, Greg Kinnear
screenplay by Randall Wallace, based on the memoir We Were Soldiers Once...and Young : Ia Drang--The Battle That Changed the War in Vietnam by Harold G. Moore, Joseph L. Galloway
directed by Randall Wallace

by Walter Chaw We Were Soldiers is a rousing war epic presented as the world's most gruesome underdog sports intrigue, its carnage--fuelled by a brilliant attention to the decisions made in the heat of battle by a genius-level military mind--at once exploitive and orgasmic in its cathartic effectiveness. Concerning the bloodiest confrontation between the United States and North Vietnam, which took place in the infancy (November 14, 1965) of the doomed police action at LZ X-Ray in the Ia Drang Valley, the memoir of the battle We Were Soldiers Once...and Young (by battlefield commander Lt. Col. Hal Moore with war journalist Joseph Galloway) finds its way to the screen with Mel Gibson as Moore and his Braveheart scribe Randall Wallace at the typewriter and behind the camera.

Happy Times (2000)

Happy Time
*½/****
starring Benshan Zhao, Jie Dong, Biao Fu, Xuejian Li
directed by Zhang Yimou

by Walter Chaw Titled in the same serio-ironic vein as Giuseppe Tornatore's Everybody's Fine, Zhang Yimou's Happy Times aspires for the piquant but only really achieves a sort of ridiculous sourness. It's a misunderstanding of irony taken to an Alanis Morrisetteian extreme; far from the eventuality being the opposite of the expected, the outcome of Happy Times is the worst kind of cliché, and its execution is so blunt compared to the sharp satirical barb of Yimou's own Ju Dou that I wonder if Gong Li wasn't the brains in that long lamented relationship. Still, what works in Happy Times is what has worked in this director's best work (Shanghai Triad, Raise the Red Lantern, Red Sorghum): mordant social critique so far removed from realism that its status as political allegory is as subtle as a neon sign and a crack to the noggin.

Possession (2002)

*/****
starring Gwyneth Paltrow, Aaron Eckhart, Jeremy Northam, Jennifer Ehle
screenplay by David Henry Hwang and Laura Jones and Neil LaBute, based on the novel by A.S. Byatt
directed by Neil LaBute

by Walter Chaw There's the seed of an interesting idea in Neil LaBute's Possession--something traceable to A.S. Byatt's melodramatic novel of the same name: the film's one clumsily extended trope that it is about keepsakes and the desire for memento mori and memento amor as it manifests amongst intellectuals. That this seed never germinates, limping along before being crushed beyond recognition by an unforgivable grave-robbing sequence is due to LaBute's icy disconnection (badly misplaced here) and the horrific realization that Possession is two stultifying formulas vying for screentime.

Jacked Up (2001) - DVD

Jacked
**½/**** Image C Sound B Extras C
starring Ron Beaco Lee, Bizzy Bone, Alexis Fields, Anna Maria Horsford
written and directed by Timothy Wayne Folsome

by Walter Chaw Courageous and extremely well performed, Timothy Wayne Folsome's zero-budget Jacked Up demonstrates a rare and surprising willingness to explore the moral consequences of a moment's rash misadventure on victim and family alike. It is, in that sense, as unusual and compelling as Roger Michell's brilliant Changing Lanes, even if the route that it takes to get to its revelations are circuitous at best and overly familiar at worst. Jacked Up is a showcase for a young filmmaker's potential (otherwise missing from Folsome's debut of a couple of years ago, An Uninvited Guest), but it also exposes Folsome as a bad visual stylist and a limited scenarist who depends too much upon the path most travelled. Good thing there are lots of flowers of interesting bouquet to sniff along the way.

Con Express (2001) - DVD

½*/**** Image D Sound C
starring Sean Patrick Flannery, Arnold Vosloo, Ursula Karven, Tim Thomerson
screenplay by Terry Cunningham, Paul Birkett
directed by Terry Cunningham

by Walter Chaw A mosaic of stock footage and terrible acting that makes Extreme Limits look decent, Con Express is a Jim Wynorski cheapie that happens to be directed this time around by a pretender to the "king of knock-off schlock" crown named "Terry Cunningham." Titled with honesty, Con Express is a scam promising thrills that takes you for a stultifying ride. It's a direct-to-video howler promising the guy who played The Mummy (Arnold Vosloo) playing Anton, a villain of the non-zombie variety (a rogue Russian general--as if there were any other kind) again bent on taking over the world. Arrayed against him are beautiful Slavic agent Natalya (Ursula Karven) and hunky customs agent Brooks (Sean Patrick Flannery), who (gasp) develop romantic feelings for one another even though they start out hating one another. Between South African Vosloo, German Karven, Enemy at the Gates, and K-19, I begin to wonder if there are any such things as actual Russians or if they're just a mythological Hollywood bogey manufactured as a bottomless well of nostalgic Red menace-dom.

Reservoir Dogs (1992) [Ten Years - Special Edition] - DVD

***½/**** Image A- Sound A- Extras A+
starring Harvey Keitel, Tim Roth, Chris Penn, Steve Buscemi
written and directed by Quentin Tarantino

by Bill Chambers

"They were perfect strangers, assembled to pull off the perfect crime. Then their simple robbery explodes into a bloody ambush, and the ruthless killers realize one of them is a police informer. But which one?"
--DVD liner summary for Reservoir Dogs

I came around to being a fan of Reservoir Dogs after Quentin Tarantino's standing had crested and the backlash was kicking in. It's impossible for me to see now why I didn't take to it initially--solid flick, as they say. Stylish, knowing, but not necessarily pretentious. Well-performed. And moving, in its macho way: Let us not forget that Reservoir Dogs ends in tears and an embrace.

The Business of Strangers (2001) - DVD

***/**** Image A- Sound A-
starring Stockard Channing, Julia Stiles, Frederick Weller
written and directed by Patrick Stettner

by Walter Chaw Julie (Stockard Channing) is a hardened businesswoman on a lecture trip who becomes certain that her last day on the job draws nigh. When young Paula (Julia Stiles) arrives to a presentation late, Julie unleashes all her fears and frustrations on the hapless girl. Written with an ear for dialogue and a wicked edge, Julie's enthusiastic upbraiding of Paula sets the stage for three elements that drive The Business of Strangers to its conclusion. The first is the discomfort arising from Julie and Paula being stuck in the same hotel overnight due to grounded flights, the second is a possible explanation of the antagonism between the pair that culminates in a disturbingly open-ended finale, and the final is the idea that in Stettner's interpersonal corporate nightmare, fear is the mechanism that catalyzes the characters towards generosity, friendship, and cruelty.

xXx (2002)

**/****
starring Vin Diesel, Samuel L. Jackson, Asia Argento, Martin Csokas
screenplay by Rich Wilkes
directed by Rob Cohen

by Walter Chaw The first film of the summer to actually make my ears bleed, Rob Cohen's xXx is a lightshow wrapped around an idiot plot that may or may not become a franchise based entirely on how hungry audiences are for another poorly-made boom-boom fest and how susceptible they are to a marketing machine intent on repackaging a cheap updating of Condorman as "the next James Bond." Vin Diesel (apparently separated at birth from his sister, David Schwimmer) plays monosyllabic Neanderthal Xander "my friends call me 'X'" Cage, an extreme-sports political activist who steals conservative senators' cars and drives them off bridges with pal Tony Hawk. When a dapper tuxedoed NSA (don't ask) agent is assassinated at an industrial concert in Prague, lone wolf spymaster Gus Gibbons (Samuel L. Jackson, in Batman supervillain Two Face makeup) does a Dirty Dozen and recruits the shadowy agency's next superagent from a pool of dangerous criminals.

Wolfen (1981) - DVD

**½/**** Image A- Sound B-
starring Albert Finney, Diane Venora, Gregory Hines, Tom Noonan
screenplay by David Eyre and Michael Wadleigh, based on the novel by Whitley Strieber
directed by Michael Wadleigh

by Bill Chambers Wolfen goes through the paces of a typical detective thriller, but it's far from conventional. I crave to understand this picture's somewhat literal bleeding heart better and thought the DVD would be of more assistance--unfortunately, the advertised commentary track with actors Gregory Hines and Edward James Olmos and director/co-writer Michael Wadleigh is AWOL. My mother calls Wolfen "a werewolf movie from the werewolf's point of view," and that's not a bad take on it, since the homicidal title creatures are in essence the good guys of the piece. Certainly, the film's preponderance of "wolf P.O.V." shots make it less than figuratively so.

Dahmer (2002)

**½/****
starring Jeremy Renner, Bruce Davison, Artel Kayaru, Matt Newton
written and directed by David Jacobson

by Walter Chaw Well-acted but without a point-of-view, hyphenate David Jacobson's sophomore feature Dahmer is less biopic than Arthouse Exploitation Lite, a curiously uninvolving glimpse into the banal life and times of a serial murderer. Rather than portray the stalking and vivisection of man as grotesquely vapid (like its more successful brothers Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer or The Untold Story), Dahmer chooses that same all-too-familiar docudrama frankness to illustrate a sick man's loneliness and inability to make a true connection with another human being. It's not attempting to humanize Dahmer so much as it's attempting to elevate Dahmer to the level of great post-modern anti-hero: unromantic, unexceptional, and unmoored, utterly, from moral responsibility--Beavis playing frog baseball with a holy trinity of representative pretty-boy victims. Even its end title card, reporting (we infer "mournfully") that the titular bogey was murdered just two years into his 1,070-year sentence by a fellow inmate, seems intended as an epitaph for a misunderstood prophet rather than a declaration of karma asserting itself, penitentiary-style.

Secret Ballot (2001)

Raye makhfi
***½/****
starring Nassim Abdi, Cyrus Abidi, Youssef Habashi, Farrokh Shojaii
written and directed by Babak Payami

by Walter Chaw It begins and ends with waiting, while the middle of Babak Payami's Secret Ballot (Raye makhfi) is invested in the Theatre of the Absurd--this is Samuel Beckett, in other words, applied to the Iranian voting process, as an unnamed election agent (Nassim Abdi) travels to a remote Persian island on a quest to gather votes from citizens who may not know that it's election time, are probably unfamiliar with the candidates, and almost certainly aren't affected by the outcome anyway. If anything, Payami's picture confirms that things are the same all over.

Hell's Gate (2002) - DVD

Bad Karma
ZERO STARS/**** Image C Sound A-
starring Patsy Kensit, Patrick Muldoon, Amy Locane
screenplay by Randall Frakes
directed by John Hough

by Walter Chaw An inept hybrid of Time After Time, Fatal Attraction, and Dead Again, John Hough's (Watcher in the Woods) cheapo slasher flick Hell's Gate (a.k.a. Bad Karma) suggests that Jack the Ripper had a girlfriend and that they've been reincarnated as mental patient Agnes (Patsy Kensit) and her shrink, Trey (Patrick Muldoon). The film opens in flashback as a younger version of Agnes (the character is named "Laurie Hatcher" but the actress playing her is uncredited in the closing credits) strips out of her parochial school outfit and wiggles into a pair of see-through panties, only to get kidnapped by a sicko who jolts her with a car battery until she "remembers" her past life as The Ripper's squeeze. (I say "younger" because the film says so--it seems unlikely, however, that any thirteen-year-old bombshells have lipo and implant scars.) Breaking out of the loony bin after biting off an orderly's prosthetic tongue, "old" Agnes floozes her way across the countryside on the trail of robotic Trey, his insipid wife Carly (Amy "I'm in a Coma, I Just Haven't Stopped Moving Yet" Locane), and his piping daughter Theresa (Aimee O'Sullivan).

Spy Kids 2: Island of Lost Dreams (2002)

**½/****
starring Antonio Banderas, Carla Gugino, Alexa Vega, Daryl Sabara
written and directed by Robert Rodriguez

by Walter Chaw Owing to Robert Rodriguez's infectious goodwill and delirious visual sensibility, Spy Kids 2: Island of Lost Dreams is the kind of children's movie that respects a child's imagination along with parental patience. Packed with invention from its opening theme park to its closing Island of Dr. Moreau, the picture is a three-pepper salsa that, for all its flashing gizmos and stop-motion monsters, suggests that the best gadget is a rubber band, and that the most important quest is one undertaken on behalf of a family member.

The Endurance: Shackleton's Legendary Antarctic Expedition (2001)

***½/****
screenplay by Caroline Alexander and Joseph Dorman, based on the book by Alexander
directed by George Butler

by Walter Chaw If there seems to be a glut of information lately on Sir Ernest Shackleton and his ill-fated voyage across Antarctica, thank Caroline Alexander, who almost single-handedly revived interest in Shackleton's travails by unearthing Aussie photographer Frank Hurley's astonishing archive of photographs and short films after eighty years. Inspired in part by the death of legendary polar explorer Robert Falcon Scott, Shackleton and his crew of 28 set sail in August of 1914 in a three-masted barkentine dubbed "The Endurance." Their quest, the last great trek of the age of exploration, was to be the first to cross Antarctica on foot, but The Endurance was trapped by pack ice about one day's sail from the continent.

The Sweetest Thing (2002) [Unrated] - DVD

ZERO STARS/**** Image B+ Sound B Extras B-
starring Cameron Diaz, Christina Applegate, Thomas Jane, Selma Blair
screenplay by Nancy M. Pimental
directed by Roger Kumble

by Walter Chaw Roger Kumble's The Sweetest Thing presents a good news/bad news situation. On the one hand, it's barely eighty minutes long--on the other, for those eighty minutes it's repugnant beyond words. On the one hand, the worst film of 2002 has already appeared with eight months to go, and on the other, I not only had to watch the benighted thing, I am now required by my vocation to relive it in detail. I am forced, for instance, to remember a scene in which the only Jewish Laundromat owner in all of San Francisco's Chinatown tastes a semen stain to determine that it's such; to recall the moment where a woman with a penis stuck in her throat mumbles Aerosmith's "I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing" to clear her air passage. Yes, The Sweetest Thing is crass and moronic, this much goes without saying (that Cameron Diaz plays another emetic simpleton is also not much of a surprise). What is a shock is that Parker Posey cameos late in the game and even she's not funny. If it takes a brilliant director to make a bad actor look good, the corollary holds, too.

Rocco and His Brothers (1960)

Rocco e i suoi fratelli
***/****
starring Alain Delon, Renato Salvatori, Annie Girardot, Katina Paxinou
screenplay by Luchino Visconti and Vasco Pratolini and Suso Cecchi d'Amico, based on the novel Il ponte della Ghisolfa by Giovanni Testori
ritten and directed by Luchino Visconti

by Travis Mackenzie Hoover Once, decades ago, Luchino Visconti was a name to conjure with. Not only was his Ossessione recognized a torrid precursor of Italian Neo-Realism, but his tragic characters on the cusp of societal change and fragmentation were greeted with the respect commonly afforded to what used to be known as high culture. Now, he's barely remembered in North America, punished for the crime of quietly going about his business. La terra trema notwithstanding, he was less movement-defining than high neo-realists like DeSica or Rossellini; nor was he an inventor of modernist forms, like Antonioni and Resnais. And as his literary, aristocratic bent was less formally bracing than a nouvelle vague hotshot, Visconti's films seem to the uninitiated too much like just movies--they didn't change how you looked at the medium, they simply inhabited it, for good or for ill.

The Starz Independent FilmCenter Project, Vol. 11

by Walter Chaw

SWIMMING (2002)
***/****
starring Lauren Ambrose, Jennifer Dundas Lowe, Joelle Carter, Josh Pais
screenplay by Lisa Bazadona, Robert J. Siegel, Grace Woodard
directed by Robert J. Siegel

An insightfully-written, delicately-performed coming-of-age piece that is good enough not to be cheapened by that genre appellation, Robert Siegel's Swimming captures one summer at tourist-filthy Myrtle Beach. (A film professor, Siegel directs his first feature here in some 20 years.) Frankie (Lauren Ambrose) works at her family's restaurant, right on the main drag next to childhood pal Nicola's (Jennifer Dundas) piercing parlour. Frankie's plain and pale, Nicola's brash and blonde; their banal day-to-day is interrupted by the introduction of floozy bombshell Josee (Joelle Carter), who begins as the standard catalytic plot device but ends as something complicated and possessed of unusual depth. The same could be said of the rest of the cast, from Dundas's volatility to Ambrose's amazingly transparent and tricky performance. Even-handedly negotiating the tricky shoals of hormone-addled actions and emotions, Swimming excels in presenting the sort of small-town yearning I most associate with Steve Earle's early production, the cruelty of teens on the make smartly presented with the same kind of nostalgic affection as the moment when a plain girl recognizes the strength of her decency and the inimitable quality of her difference. Observations of the ebbs and flows of adolescent angst are interesting in Swimming, though not interesting enough to make this charming adolescent melodrama resonate with the melancholia of Bogdanovich's similarly themed The Last Picture Show, and the picture runs out of steam with a goofy subplot involving a sweet-natured ganja-burner played by Jamie Harrold.

The Business of Fancydancing (2002)

**½/****
starring Evan Adams, Michelle St. John, Gene Tagaban, Swil Kanim
written and directed by Sherman Alexie

by Walter Chaw Reading a little like an anguished autobiography of a certain kind of success and the ethnic price of it, Sherman Alexie's The Business of Fancydancing demands an examination of the compulsion to use "Native American author" as a prefix to Alexie's name. It's not a success in a conventional sense and that's actually somewhat to its credit--having made a living as a Native American author with a mostly white readership, Alexie's aim here seems to be one of defying traditional Western narrative forms in favour of the liquidity of a more aboriginal oral tradition. If its performances are uneven and some of its characters and events completely superfluous, The Business of Fancydancing gets a great deal of leeway based solely on the raw intimacy of Alexie's uncompromising point of view.

Full Frontal (2002)

*/****
starring Blair Underwood, Julia Roberts, David Hyde Pierce, Catherine Keener
screenplay by Coleman Hough
directed by Steven Soderbergh

by Walter Chaw An experiment in perceptual distortion that questions the nature of viewership and the law of observation that states, in part, that the nature of the process of observation necessitates a change in the essential quality of the observed, Steven Soderbergh's Full Frontal is a hyper-pretentious film-within-a-film-within-a-film conceit so gimmicky it hardly matters that by the end gimmickry is its point. The picture begins with the opening of a fictional film called "Rendezvous" starring Calvin (Blair Underwood) and Francesca (Julia Roberts), written by Carl (David Hyde Pierce) and produced by Gus (David Duchovny), and as this "fake" film proceeds in perfectly acceptable 35mm, it is interrupted by long stretches of extremely grainy digital-video footage that purports to represent "reality."

The Master of Disguise (2002)

ZERO STARS/****
starring Dana Carvey, Mark Devine, Jennifer Esposito, Harold Gould
screenplay by Dana Carvey & Harris Goldberg
directed by Perry Andelin Blake

by Walter Chaw Produced by Adam Sandler's Happy Madison company and directed by one of Sandler's sycophantic toadies (Perry Andelin Blake), The Master of Disguise is every bit as soul-sucking and painful as one of the comedian's own plodding star vehicles. Graceless and dunderheaded, the film's only message is that slapping people across the face is the best way to achieve empowerment, and its only reason for being is to serve as proof positive of the Peter Principle. Edited with a hacksaw and presenting an insipid child character (Austin Wolff) used for slapstick laughs before getting kicked to the curb, The Master of Disguise represents a lot of what's wrong with movies in the United States today. That it happens to be the sequel-in-spirit of Dana Carvey's "breakthrough" film Opportunity Knocks (1990) is what folks in the business call "sadistic."

Martin Lawrence Live: Runteldat (2002)

½*/****
directed by David Raynr

by Walter Chaw The funniest five minutes of Martin Lawrence's embarrassing concert diatribe Martin Lawrence Live: Runteldat (trans: "Run, Tell That") occur in an opening video montage that recounts the troubled comedian's arrest for shouting at traffic while brandishing a firearm and the time he fell into a coma while jogging wrapped in plastic wrap yet somehow overlooks the sexual harassment suit filed against him by former television co-star Tisha Campbell. After an hour of deadening material that fails to elicit one cross-cultural laugh, Lawrence returns to the topic of how members of the evil media (and critics) have done him wrong and then proceeds to admit that he was shouting at traffic because he was high as a kite, did indeed have a gun (just for self-defense, he assures, though intentionality is hard to gauge when one is "high as a kite"), and passed out from heat exhaustion during a jogging on the hottest day of the year (a wool skullcap is confessed; not so the cling-wrap). His confessions lead one to wonder how exactly the comedian believes he's been misrepresented by the media.

Exorcist II: The Heretic (1977) - DVD

ZERO STARS/**** Image B Sound B
starring Linda Blair, Richard Burton, Louise Fletcher, Kitty Winn
screenplay by William Goodhart
directed by John Boorman

by Bill Chambers Possibly the worst film ever made and surely the worst sequel ever made, Exorcist II: The Heretic is the last of an uneven trilogy to hit DVD. Understand that while I would only recommend a purchase to my arch-enemy, the picture is definitely worth seeking out in the way that one likes to see the Leaning Tower of Piza or Easter Island before leaving this world--it's the greatest unnatural wonder known to cinema. I've now endured it twice (please send my Medal of Honor for self-sacrifice in the line of duty in care of this website), the second time so that I could compile a list of my favourite bits; apologies in advance if this review reads too dada for its own good.