On the Nature of a Good Review, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Movies

Perhaps the most significant accusation leveled against The Cinema King, other than the predilection of a fairly small kingdom with an otherwise unknown number of subjects (seriously, readers, make yourself known!), is the call that there are too many good reviews on this site.

This bears investigation. Let us then as statisticians evaluate the factual merit of this claim. Of 77 posts tagged as "movie reviews" (thank you, Blogger), I would only describe 16 as more than 50% negative. (Movies that I halfheartedly enjoyed I evaluated on a case-by-case basis and decided from there.) That leaves 61 positive reviews on this site - a 79% ratio -- almost 4 out of 5 reviews.

So the claim that the majority of reviews on this site are positive has merit. We could now turn to the claim of "too many good reviews." Are there too many good reviews on this site? Is 80% too much? Unfortunately, I can't seem to find a ratio for the reviews of Roger Ebert (a reviewer with whom I have been known to disagree but whose writings I still very much respect), so we don't quite have a barometer. "Too much" is perhaps too subjective a term for me to properly evaluate here, so let us leave it to your discretion. If 80% of my reviews being positive ones perturbs you, I can point you in the direction of some snarkier blogs.

However, let me first offer some explanation as to why the majority of my reviews are positive. For a review to emerge as a positive one, two things must occur. The reviewer must have enjoyed the film, and the reviewer must be able to articulate that enjoyment in the form of a clear and entertaining piece of prose that may best bear the term "review." I attempt always to fulfill the second of these requirements, providing content that I hope my readers enjoy (do you?) while satisfying my own desires as a writer. The first one is a little more difficult to do. I can't always guarantee that I'll like a movie before I go into it. But I frequently can.

That's where Mr. Ebert and I are doing different jobs. Yes, we're both movie reviewers (though I am The Cinema King, he is far more prolific and popular), but he has the means, opportunity, and in some ways the responsibility to see far more movies than I do. Where I have 77 reviews on my site, Rotten Tomatoes registers an excess of 6200 reviews from Camp Ebert. Therefore, his potential for writing negative reviews is exponentially greater than my own. He's literally written thousands more reviews than I have (he's also been doing it for longer, but the nascency of this blog isn't something I can get nostalgic about just yet).

There's a final difference between Sir Ebert and myself: choice. I don't mean to imply that he has no volition in his capacity as reviewer (potentially apocryphal stories have him walking out of the cinema), but I think it's safe to say that I - standing in front of the shelf in a rental store or a library or media emporium - have a bit more freedom in which movies I watch and review. That's why the uneven quantitative comparison between us. My greater freedom of choice is a double-edged sword. Unlike Mr. Ebert, I never get invited to preview screenings (save for a pre-midnight show of Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End on one of my more unforgettable birthdays), and so my reviews are frequently less than timely; the fact that 15 posts on this site are tagged with a decade before 2000 is testament to the fact that timeliness isn't one of my chief concerns.

However, greater powers of selection in moviegoing allows me to weed out movies I know I won't like, such as The Ugly Truth (watch out for a Trailer Park post on that stinker coming soon). Since I can choose the films I review, I can limit my scope to films I'm dying to see (Michael Mann's Heat was viewed days before I resumed my reviewing enterprise, and it met with my approval and a query as to just how influential it was for Nolan on The Dark Knight) or to films that I'm sort of lukewarm about seeing. I won't spend my time watching a movie I know I won't enjoy when I could be watching one I will. That's perhaps the greatest reason for the 80% approval rating on this site: choice.

I hope that clears up any thoughts on my being too enthusiastic of a film fan. Admittedly, I have some "guilty pleasures" - at my place of employment, I'm still being chided for enjoying Hairspray and Sweeney Todd more than No Country for Old Men (even if I'm starting to recant that position) - but that's the beauty of reviews. In the words of the great Dennis Miller, "Of course, that's just my opinion. I could be wrong."

Trailer Park: Inglourious Basterds (2009) [Trailer #2]

For starters, I'm reviewing the second trailer for this video, though I'll be taking for granted a slight familiarity with the first trailer (and that one's embedded at the bottom of this post).

We've been waiting since Kill Bill for the next Quentin Tarantino movie (okay, Grindhouse fans, Death Proof counts) and here it is. We've been hearing about Inglourious Basterds (back when it was spelled Inglorious Bastards) for some time now, and I was just about to relegate it into the dead pool where The Vega Brothers currently tends bar. Thankfully, Tarantino managed to get his script put together and filmed in time for the 2009 movie season.

This one looks like what every Tarantino fan loves - kitsch, violence, and hyperstylized dialogue. Furthermore, Brad Pitt devotees will probably have much to enjoy when it comes to his distinctive characterization of Lt. Aldo Ray (an interesting combination, one reviewer has noticed, of Cary Grant and Foghorn Leghorn), whose every movement is in step with a unique character - the kind for which Tarantino is best known.

Inglourious Basterds probably isn't landmark cinema, but it looks like it'll be a lot of fun. Plus, Mike Meyers is doing an accent again, and Hitler is wearing a cape. Like I said, a lot of fun.

The Game (1997)

It's a good thing director David Fincher is so articulate, because I can't think of a better way to describe his 1997 thriller The Game other than "a fashionable, good-looking Scrooge, lured into a Mission: Impossible situation with a steroid shot in the thigh from The Sting."

Michael Douglas is Nicholas Van Orton, an investment banker reminiscent of Douglas's turn as Gordon Gekko in Stone's Wall Street. A visit from Nicholas's brother Conrad (Sean Penn) sets into motion Nicholas's involvement in a game perpetrated by the shady and mysterious business Consumer Recreation Services. The game begins innocuously enough, but soon Nicholas finds himself fighting for everything - literally, everything - he has in order to win the game.

Kudos to Fincher - director of cult favorites Se7en and Fight Club - for keeping the film moving without ever really giving the audience anything concrete to latch onto. The screenplay is extra-strong here, its postponed questions facilitating the bait-and-switch Fincher deftly pulls on the audience. For two hours, the film careens from plot twist to surprise misdirection, without ever really revealing its hand until literally the last scene of the film. Fincher never gives the audience more than an inch in this one, keepng me on the edge of my seat while asking, "Okay, he's in on it? No, wait, she is? Is he? Whose side is she on?" Like Nicholas, the audience is kept in the dark for most of the film, and so the film is a great deal of fun as far as unpredictability goes.

Where performances are concerned, Douglas is superb as always. Having proved himself adept at thrillers in both Fatal Attraction and Don't Say a Word (perhaps the closest thematically to his performance here), Douglas is, to borrow a line from his co-star Sean Penn, "one of our finest." Penn does a great job in his first scene, which sets up a stark and immediate difference between the Van Orton brothers, but he's nowhere near the presence that Douglas is in the film (if memory serves, Penn only has about three or four scenes total). And Deborah Kara Unger, as a waitress who gets caught up in the game, doesn't do much but serve as a focal point for a few twists - the only ones I can profess to have seen coming.

The Game is not for everyone. It's not for those who like their movies cut and dry, black and white. It's not for those who can't handle top-notch suspense, and it's certainly not for those who get disturbed by movies that ask "How would you handle this?" It is, however, an excellent film for those of us who like a movie that keeps us guessing, that never lets up, and that is as finely crafted as a whittled whistle. The Game is delightfully always one step ahead of its audience.

The Game is rated "R for language, and for some violence and sexuality." Language consists of the occasional F-bomb, and violence begins to escalate only as the game gets closer to the finish line - neither of these are excessive because the real tension is all in your head. Sexuality comes with a few suggestive photographs that are used as part of the game.

High School Musical 3: Senior Year (2008)

When it comes to the subject of High School Musical 3: Senior Year, I have two confessions.

First confession: I saw this movie of my own volition. I wasn’t dragged, and I wasn’t sitting in the fourth row for any reasons but my own.

Second confession: I actually liked HSM 3 (to use ‘Wildcat’ shorthand).Coming from a guy whose favorite movie of all time is Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight (followed closely by Martin Scorsese’s The Departed), that may come as a bit of a shock. So I suppose a third confession is in order: I’m actually a fan of the franchise.

True, I don’t have posters of Zac Efron on my wall, nor do I own a single pink cap, but I do own the first movie on DVD, and I even know what a jazz square is.

Maybe I’m a little biased, then. But where the first two installments of the franchise were fluffy teeny-bopper schmaltz-fests, Senior Year is actually a movie in its own right.

Efron leads the ensemble cast (with six leads and scads of supporting characters) as the Wildcats are chugging through those last days of high school. There’s no senioritis here; Troy, Gabriella (Vanessa Hudgens), Sharpay (Ashley Tisdale) and Ryan (Lucas Grabeel, still my favorite) are all scrambling to stage their last musical at East High, a chronicle of their own experiences as they head off to college. Throw prom and separation anxiety - Gabriella’s moving to Stanford, exactly 1,053 miles away from her doe-eyed boyfriend - and three new sophomores into the mix, and you’ve got a $42 million opening weekend.

If the first two movies had catchy songs (who didn’t find themselves ready to “Bop to the Top” or ask “What Time Is It?” in the first two?), Senior Year plays the music to the hilt. I could walk through each of the film’s 12 musical sequences (two more than usual), but there’s really not a dud in the bunch.

“Now or Never” is a fun race against the clock as Troy and the basketball team have only 16 minutes to win a state championship. “I Want It All” will have you humming along as Sharpay and Ryan dream of star status. And “Just Wanna Be with You” is perhaps the most moving piece of the whole film, powerful in its simplicity.

Then there’s “Senior Year Spring Musical” itself, an eight minute track which features reprises of many of the movie’s most memorable tracks. This is unquestionably the best scene in the movie, in which all the characters get to shine, even the ridiculous show-off Jimmy “The Rocket” (newcomer Matt Prokop).

‘Ridiculous’ is probably a word I should use more frequently, both in relation to the movie itself and my enjoyment of it. Try to keep a straight face when Troy dances it out during “Scream” or when he and his best friend Chad inexplicably turn into little kids during “The Boys Are Back.”

Though the music is top notch here, catchy without being overtly bubblegum-ish, the acting isn’t slouching, either. Admittedly, the caliber of acting in a Disney movie isn’t something to analyze too closely, but there’s no question these six have graduated near-legitimacy. Grabeel’s got a part in Milk, the Sean Penn biopic of Harvey Milk, and Efron’s fronting a Footloose remake in 2010. [Alas, this has changed since I wrote this review. It seems Efron doppleganger Chace Crawford is now going to cut footloose.]

Here, the actors feel comfortable in their roles. Efron is all too believable as the confused Troy Bolton, torn between the basketball court and the stage. Hudgens will break your heart as she copes with leaving East High, and Tisdale is delightful as scheming queen bee Sharpay. Even Corbin Bleu fits perfectly as Chad, whose principal preoccupation is finding the perfect way to ask Taylor (Monique Coleman) to the prom.

I’m not a fan of the three newcomers - the aforementioned Jimmy “Rocketman” Zara, Tiara Gold (Jemma McKenzie-Brown) and Donny Dion (Justin Martin). I can understand Disney’s desire to spin these three off into a new trilogy, but it’s tough to get behind any of them. Instead of being interesting new characters, they seem only to be younger versions of Troy, Sharpay and Chad. Tiara is perhaps the worst offender, frustratingly uninspired and with little to no singing ability at all.

HSM 3 won’t win any awards - or hearts, for that matter - but I feel fairly confident I got my money’s worth here, an assertion I wouldn’t make for its box office competition, Saw V. In terms of pure (both unadulterated and innocent) fun, though, it’s difficult not to empathize with the movie’s cast. They’re clearly having a blast with this one.

I did, too.

High School Musical 3: Senior Year is rated G for being so gosh darn wholesome.

Now Broadcasting in Astonishing Widescreen!

"There is nothing wrong with your television set. Do not attempt to adjust the picture. We are controlling transmission. ... We will control the horizontal. We will control the vertical."

Ever since we at The Cinema King imported all the Trailer Park posts into one cozy little home,
we noticed something curious had changed in the interim. YouTube was posting widescreen trailers, but our humble little abode wasn't cut out for the beauty of a widescreen, higher-def video. Back in the days when Trailer Park lived on its own, videos were still fairly compact and fit comfortably in the niche provided by the good folks at Blogger. Not so anymore.

Fortunately, after hours of poring over code and tips from other bloggers, we've adapted. We've spread our wings, and we're now broadcasting in astonishing widescreen with more content, more video, and more of the benign reign of The Cinema King. Now you can enjoy all your favorite Trailer Park reviews without compromising the horizontal integrity of the trailers - because, let's be real, all the good stuff happens on that side of the screen anyway.

"We repeat, there is nothing wrong with your television set. You are about to participate in a great adventure. You are about to experience the awe and mystery which reaches from the inner mind" of The Cinema King ...to you!

The Brothers Grimm (2005)

The Brothers Grimm is almost Kaufman-esque, in a way, as a story about stories. By extension, then, I suppose it's the Pirates of the Caribbean of Charlie Kaufman stories - it doesn't take itself too seriously. But at the same time, it's a Terry Gilliam flick, which means The Brothers Grimm is superlatively visually stimulating, but coherence is not to be expected.

Fortunately, The Brothers Grimm is to date the most accessible Gilliam movie (excepting the brilliant Monty Python and the Holy Grail) I've seen.

These ain't your momma's Grimm Brothers, that's for sure. As portrayed by Matt Damon and Heath Ledger, Will and Jake - not Wilhelm and Jakob - are the 19th century equivalent of Ghostbusters, liberating French-occupied Germany from all manner of witches and demons. We quickly learn that the Grimm enterprise is a sham, as Will & Jake are staging superstitious happenings in order to reap the profits for "defeating" the apparitions. Their fraud is unearthed by the villainous French General Delatombe (Jonathan Pryce) and his Italian torturer Cavaldi (Peter Stormare, best known as the killer from Fargo, Karl Hungus/Uli Kunkel from The Big Lebowski, and rogue electrician Slippery Pete from "Seinfeld"), who force the brothers Grimm to solve the mystery of the missing girls of Marbaden, a forest town filled with every fairy tale denizen you can imagine.

Coherent? Certainly. Spectacular? Not quite. Fun? If you're into this sort of thing.

The fun in the film comes from two places: the cast and the script. The cast isn't quite impeccable, since they never manage to steal the show from the vivacious visuals Gilliam provides, but they all do a nice job of creating memorable if cartoonish characters. Damon and Ledger (both of whom can do no wrong in my book, though I would have liked to see the original choice for Will - Johnny Depp) are the stars, and they've got a real chemistry as brothers that suggests a long history between the two. Ladies man Will often clashes with bookish Jake, and both Damon and Ledger do a solid job of instantly creating a plausible characterization and sticking to it throughout. Ledger's accent, though, is a touch distracting, an interesting combination of Sean Connery and The Joker circa The Dark Knight. Pryce and Stormare are far grosser caricatures, underspeaking a typically British xenophobia of all things continental; Pryce is a knockout as always, and Stormare brings his conventional slimy foreigner aura to his role. Lena Headey (the queen from 300) is negligible as guide/love interest, but Monica Bellucci - as the eerie Mirror Queen - carries well the seductive cruelty of her witchy character.

The script, tangled though it is in places (and admittedly muddy in others) is fun because it's filled to the brim with references, homages, and nods of the head toward the more commonly known career of the Grimm brothers and the fairy tale canon on the whole. Keep your eyes peeled for Snow White, Cinderella, Little Red Riding Hood, Hansel & Gretel, and even The Gingerbread Man (look out, cookie from Shrek). Of course, knowing the identity of the little girl wearing a red hood in the forest isn't essential, but it helps make the later joke - in which Jake jots down in his journal "Little Red Riding Cape" - more entertaining.

I admitted the film is muddy, and it's classic Gilliam mud. After knocking out essential exposition within twenty minutes, the film dispenses with most claims to a plot and instead focuses on the Grimm dynamic and the eye-popping spectacle sequences (like moving trees, cobwebbed horses, and mud with a face). Consequently, the movie gets a little difficult to follow, especially when the narrative jumps quickly from scene to scene with little but imagination to fill in the gaps. What saves The Brothers Grimm from being another Gilliam headscratcher is its existence in a fantasy world where normal rules don't apply. I often ask of a Gilliam film, "How could this happen? What exactly is happening?" Here, the film makes up its own rules as it goes along, answering the question by saying, "X happens because that's the way fairy tales work."

The Brothers Grimm might not leave viewers happily ever after, but you'll at least turn the page with a smile on your face.

The Brothers Grimm is inscribed with a rating of "PG-13 for violence, frightening sequences and brief suggestive material." Violence and terror come on the whole from spooky creatures and foreboding forest environs, which some younger viewers might find more eerie than entertaining. As for suggestive material, Will is implied numerous times to be quite the ladies' man, but this is subtle and not prevalent.

Trailer Park: Transformers II: Revenge of the Fallen (2009)

Let's face it - you either love Michael Bay movies or, like the song goes in Team America: World Police, you wonder why he gets to keep making them.

Like most male moviegoers, I'm in the former category. Michael Bay movies contain three of my favorite things in the world: a nice hybrid of comedy and action, gorgeous women, and things blowing up. Honestly, I don't need much more in a movie, so it's a good thing that Michael Bay seldom goes above and beyond my expectations.

I enjoyed the first Transformers picture because it had all of the above and - more importantly - allowed a newbie like myself to get into the world and follow the plotline without all that heavy geekgasm'ing that a different director might have brought in. It looks like the second film is going to be much the same, with returning heroes and villains as well as a heavy load of action sequences that Bay does so well. It's not that his movies are unwatchable - there just isn't a lot of substance beyond the extremely watchable boom-booms.

And what else does one expect for a summer blockbuster? Something that makes the popcorn tastes better. Bingo, Bay. Bingo. See you at the movies!

Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen crash-lands on June 24, 2009.

Trailer Park: Aliens in the Attic (2009)

Formerly known as "They Came From Upstairs" (which I actually think is a pretty cool title - this one is too generic and has no mystery about it), Aliens in the Attic looks to be a fairly basic kiddie thriller about... well... aliens in the attic. Didn't we see this movie when it was called The Spiderwick Chronicles? (I sure didn't.)

About all this movie has going for it is Ashley Tisdale looking pretty, and I had my fill of that in the three High School Musical incidents--er, movies. Although the one alien who allies himself with the humans is predictably present, one can't help but at least smirk at his forcibly-lovable antics.

But the laughter dies when the ridiculous blond boyfriend is remote-controlled by the bratty boy who instantly resorts to such juvenile tactics as ballet and a numbing game of "Stop hitting yourself." (On that note, what the heck happened to Doris Roberts's career? I suppose if Estelle Harris can land a gig on the Disney Channel, Doris can slum a bit if it means a nice paycheck in a post-Raymond world.) Additionally, did we have to bring back Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger"? I haven't had a song stuck in my head like this since the Miley Cyrus debacle we'll never again speak of.

I'll be skipping this one. The kids will probably laugh themselves silly and maybe even wish there were aliens in their attic, but for parents this is nothing we haven't seen a billion times over.

Aliens in the Attic invades (sorry) on July 31, 2009.

Sorry, Wrong Number (1948)

I think that Sorry, Wrong Number and I had a bad connection - not that I was ever tempted to hang up.

Director Anatole Litvak adapts Lucille Fletcher's classic radio drama into a 90-minute thriller starring Barbara Stanwyck as the bedridden Leona Stevenson-Cotterell, who overhears a telephone conversation in which two mysterious men plot the murder of an innocent woman. The premise seems simple, but in true film noir tradition there is more than meets the eye when it comes to the secrets that Leona and her mysteriously absent husband (Burt Lancaster) are keeping. Through a series of phone calls (and flashbacks), the awful truth comes out.

I'll freely admit that I hadn't heard the radio play before watching this movie. (Prep work isn't exactly my forte when it comes to this site, loyal reader.) So I was coming into this one fresh, ready for a film noir twist but also prepared to play along until the ending happened. This isn't the best noir out there - I'm a devout fan of The Big Sleep, mystifying though much of it is - but Litvak does an adequate job of keeping the movie going while not losing sight of the urgency of the murder to be committed at 11:15. It's not much of a mystery, true, but the why is more important (and more surprising) than the who and what.

Stanwyck and Lancaster are serviceable in their roles as the not-so-happily married couple, though at times Stanwyck borders on overacting (though she does a fine job of creating a simultaneously sympathetic and loathsome heiress) while Lancaster underplays what should be a more devastated part. As items submitted from the 1940s, though, and from a genre that highly prizes stylization, this is to be expected and so does not detract from the overall enjoyment of the picture.

What does, sadly, hurt Sorry, Wrong Number is that it is a touch too long. Some of the flashback scenes overstay their welcome, unnecessarily belaboring a few points (such as the courtship or the chemist's dream of owning horses). Perhaps this is the fault of the script, adapted from a nonvisual medium, or perhaps this is the fault of Litvak, who fails to yell "Cut!" when scenes run overlong. In the hands of, say, Hitchcock, this one might have been a ballpark favorite (I'll have to have a look at Dial M for Murder now to see what Hitch does with a similar premise), but as it stands, a few lines get crossed with Sorry, Wrong Number.

That said, if you can make it through a moderately drawn-out initial 70 minutes, the last 20 minutes - in which the reality behind the overheard phone call is revealed and its staggering consequences play out in brutal real time - are solid gold. In top film noir tradition, the film's final reel makes brilliant use of shadows, shouting, and snappy cuts to build a white-knuckle tension and a staggering climax we all saw coming but hoped wasn't so. That's the genius, I suppose, of the film - like The Taking of Pelham 123, Sorry, Wrong Number did a bang-up job of convincing me how it wouldn't end... and then ended just like it was supposed to. I wouldn't have had it any other way.

It's like a great dessert after an okay main course.

Sorry, Wrong Number made it to theaters before the MPAA carved out their ratings stamps, but this is definitely PG fare. As a 40s flick, this one is fairly innocuous, without any on-screen violence - the tension and the action is all in your head.

The X-Files: I Want to Believe (2008)

As a once-was fan of the iconic and long-running Chris Carter sci-fi series, the announcement that a new X-Files film was en route made a small part of me giggly with excitement. Most of me, though, had moved on, wishing more that Sydney Bristow (from the long-since cancelled Alias) or even just Jack Bauer or the cast of Lost might show up in cinemaplexes. (Heck, I'll take that Arrested Development film any day, Ron Howard.)

So my concerns that perhaps I'd outgrown the paranormal excursions of FBI Agents Fox Mulder (David Duchovny) and Dana Scully (Gillian Anderson) stuck with me for the entire runtime of the film. The film picks up a few years after the series concluded, with Mulder & Scully officially retired from the FBI. But when a shady ex-con priest (Billy Connolly, who's occasionally spooky) has a vision of an abducted FBI agent, the Feds call in the original paranormal specialists, and the X-Files are re-opened once more.

The film tries to stand on its own, with only essential information carried over from the original series - Mulder is the believer, Scully the skeptic. But there are brief references peppered throughout the film that novices (and X-Files apostates like myself) will crane their brains to understand. Additionally, a major cast member from the original series makes a brief return near the finish of the film, but only fans of the TV show will find this cast appearance of any merit; others will query why the dramatic music and camera angle.

As someone whose memories of the series were fairly fuzzy, I realized that the film feels a lot like an episode of the series and is paced in much the same way. However, the movie is twice as long as an episode of the television show and at times feels like it. It's as though the filmmakers had only an hour of material and had to pad their script with longing gazes, dramatic panoramic aerial shots, and almost too many retreads of the "I believe/I don't believe" dialogue that X-heads have come to cherish as much as the Cigarette-Smoking Man (who sadly doesn't make an appearance here) loves his smokes.

Duchovny and Anderson (who's decried her difficulty remounting the "unicycle" of her character) step comfortably into their characters like a kicked-in pair of shoes, comfortable and familiar despite showing a few signs of aging. But the performances are strong, the characterizations convincing (if hit home a tad too much), and the chemistry still striking. The best performance, though he's only given a bit to work with, is Connolly's supporting role as Father Joe, the allegedly psychic priest with a damning past. The downturn, though, is that much of Connolly's performance is shrouded in "Is he or isn't he?" ambiguity, which the actor does well to play both sides and never truly give the audience a leg up on any one theory. As "new" agents, Amanda Peet and Xzibit do little more than become a younger Mulder and Scully, and their characterizations are neither convincing nor compelling.

Part of the main problem of the film, though it's an interesting if a bit overlong, is its ambiguity. When done right (Mulholland Drive on film, Watchmen in text), ambiguity can be a thought-provoking technique which keeps the audience thinking long after the credits - or the back cover - fall into place. However, I doubt I'll be thinking about the moral ramifications of some of the film's factors. I had fun watching the film - I enjoyed the film's sci-fi aspect and the gory subplot suitable for the TV series - but it's not something I'd put on my favorites list.

Diehard fans of the TV show, though, will probably love it. For me, I think I'll stick with the other film that opened on July 18, 2008.

Courtesy of the MPAA, The X-Files: I Want to Believe is rated "PG-13 for violent and disturbing content and thematic material." The film is more disturbing than violent (although there's some depiction of unorthodox medical practices), with a few well-crafted kidnapping-centric scenes that recall Demme's The Silence of the Lambs. I'm still at a loss as to what "thematic material" is, so I suppose this refers to the movie having a plot, drama, and suspense.

Trailer Park: Shutter Island (2009)

Finally, Martin Scorsese is coming back to the big screen. After 2006's The Departed (which still may or may not be my favorite movie of all time), Marty's bringing Dennis Lehane's novel to cinemas while carrying along some familiar faces - and that beloved Bawstuhn accent that's supplanted the Italian vernacular in Marty's catalog.

Of course I think this movie looks spectacular. Leo's finally becoming a real actor, Ben Kingsley is just so creepy as a doctor who I'm sure is hiding something, and the tension is high as a kite in this trailer.

Concerns? A) The trailer seems to be giving away a lot. B) It seems to be mismarketed as a horror movie, which I'm quite sure it isn't. Everything I've read about the film points to it being a mystery/thriller with a question about blurring the line between fact and fantasy, between reality and hallucination. Of course, how do you convey that in a trailer? How do you draw audiences in for a tight psychological thriller?

Simple: put Martin Scorsese's name on the trailer.

Shutter Island drops into theaters on October 2, 2009.

For more information about the film, take a peek at http://www.totalfilm.com/features/on-set-shutter-island, which focuses a lot on the look and feel that Scorsese is seeking for this film. Plus, some pretty pictures.

Introductions to Trailer Park

The spin-off you've been waiting for has finally come home to roost!

Here at The Cinema King, I have heretofore reviewed movies, finished products released to the general public. But there's another facet of the cinematic experience to which I haven't paid due attention - the art of the trailer. We see about four or five of these before a movie in the theaters (and on DVD, if [like me] you're not inclined to skip over them), and they reach us in a way that film doesn't. If these posts look familiar, it's because they once had their own blog, Trailer Park. Yet Trailer Park wasn't satisfying to me on a lot of levels, and with the new introduction of Labels/Tags to The Cinema King, there's now a perfect way to integrate the two concepts while still allowing you the reader to decide whether you want only "movie reviews" or if you're adventurous enough to click on the tag labeled "trailers."

Jim Gaffigan has the old joke that people always feel the need to comment on movie trailers, which are just glorified commercials. "Yet you would never do that for regular commercials. 'Yeah, I'm not gonna buy that cereal.'" Admittedly, it is preposterous to lean over to your moviegoing companion (or a total stranger) and openly opine about the commercial y'all have just seen.

But that's exactly what I'm going to do here.

I'll try to embed the trailer on here via our friends at YouTube, but if not I'll just link to the Apple Trailers site or something similar. See you at the movies.

Big Night (1996)

There's something about Italian accents, I think, especially when they're mingled with shoutings about food and good-spirited feuding. From The Godfather to Goodfellas, from The Sopranos to Cake Boss (an exciting and hysterical reality show about cakemakers in Jersey), I've never been able to resist the dulcet tones of the Italian culture.

There's no Mafia in Big Night, but we do have Stanley Tucci and Tony Shalhoub as brothers Secondo and Primo, who own and run the Paradise restaurant in 1950s New Jersey. They aren't doing great business and find themselves in some financial trouble, thanks in part to the uninspired yet heavily commercialized competition across the street. Their competitor Pascal (Ian Holm) is waiting out their business in the hopes that Primo and Secondo will eventually come work for him, but Pascal tosses the brothers a bone when he says that - as a personal favor - he's invited musical bigshot Louis Prima to dine at their restaurant tomorrow night. With one day to prepare for the big night, tensions flare as high as the flames in the kitchen.

I've said it once, and I'll say it again. Why isn't Stanley Tucci an A-lister? Between this, The Devil Wears Prada, and the trailer for Julie & Julia, it's high time that Mr. Tucci starts getting some of the respect that he deserves. Though he looks a lot like Andy Garcia in this one (perhaps they and Mark Strong should get together and play a trio of brothers), Tucci is in good form, emotionally gripping in one breath and comedically gifted in the next. Plus, Tucci co-wrote and co-directed Big Night. Can we please get this guy the recognition he deserves? (At least he's hitched his wagon to the Meryl Streep star, so at least more people will be seeing his films.) Shalhoub (TV's Monk) has the stronger temper and thus more of the comic opportunity, but he's got a real chemistry with Tucci, and it's not hard to believe the two are brothers.

But the scene stealer in the movie is neither Minnie Driver nor Isabella Rosselini nor even Allison Janney as love interests; for big stars, none of these three ladies (who have proven themselves elsewhere to be fairly gifted, professionally speaking) are given much to do, though Rosselini tries the best of the three. No, the real "best supporting actor" as it were is Ian Holm as Pascal. Though he's not terribly convincing as an Italian (his accent isn't as impeccable as Tucci & Shalhoub's), his turn as a top restaurateur and expert salesman (particularly of himself and his grandiose personality) is superb. If you ever wondered how Pixar & Co. chose Holm for the villainous Skinner in Ratatouille, look no further than his entertaining used car salesman of a cuisine king.

I came into this expecting a laugh-out-loud comedy, which the film delivers though only sporadically in top-notch moments (see: preceding paragraph) and not in a consistent cheek-wounding capacity like The Hangover did. It's more appropriately a drama film with a comedic streak. As a result, there was a bit in this film that felt unnecessary; a subplot involving infidelty felt like fat that needed to be trimmed from this steak of a film, making its characters too fallible and unnecessarily complex. Furthermore, there's a predictable ending, accompanied with a familiar message about how all we really have is each other (a theme I prefer delivered in the "Family first" capacity of Arrested Development). But the film scores points on execution here, because the film's final scene is a deaf play between Primo, Secondo, and Cristiano (a young Marc Anthony) - all done in one long take. Of course, I just melt like garlic in a frying pan when I see a well-done long take.

For a few well-done moments, well-timed dialogue, and a top performance from Ian Holm, Big Night is hot. The film, though, tends more to simmer than sizzle and so is best appreciated like a fine wine and not a quick shot of what-have-you.

Big Night is rated "R for language," most of which comes from moderate use of the F-word, primarily from Pascal. But that's part of what makes him so endearing, to me!

The Taking of Pelham 123 (2009)

If you're not familiar with the oeuvre of Tony Scott, he's the guy whose movies always look like they were filmed from a moving train (Domino, Man on Fire, and Déjà Vu, though not so much True Romance). So it's only appropriate that his latest film, both a remake of a 1974 classic and the novel that inspired it, is centered in the New York subway system.


The Taking of Pelham 123 is a fast-paced, near-realtime thriller with a simple core: Walter Garber, a civil servant thrust into the shoes of being a hostage negotiator (Denzel Washington) matches wits with a troubled and somewhat unstable criminal named Ryder (John Travolta) on the other end of the microphone. The demands are simple: $10,000,000 within an hour or hostages start dying. And the supporting cast is fairly simple: an actual hostage negotiator (John Turturro) coaching Garber as the Mayor of New York (James Gandolfini) scrambles to get the ransom money in time amid his own personal scandal.


I can't do much by way of comparison with the original (and a 1998 version starring Edward James Olmos), which is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, I can't provide the kind of commentary I'm sure some of you are seeking, but on the other hand, I'm free to concentrate on the film that Tony Scott has made without any distractions. As updates go, this one compensates well for technology not extant when the originals came out, but I'm just speculating there. Not knowing anything about the original versions, this one kept me guessing and held my attention during the whole thing, and the 106-minute runtime flew by... well, like a subway train.


Despite being a high-stakes plot with 19 lives in the balance and despite Scott's brutally flashy direction (which is entertaining if a little distracting), there doesn't seem to be a whole lot of urgency behind the film; it's as though at times there aren't lives on the line. But that's all right. The heart and soul of the film is the interaction between Washington's charismatic everyman and Travolta's unhinged hostage-taker. Like Sam Jackson, these two are just plain fun to watch, especially Washington, who disappears behind his klutzy character while bringing us in on every small tic and mini-grin Garber carries with him. Travolta isn't exactly menacing - that is, when he's not brandishing a gun in a hostage's face (there, he's downright spooky) - but he's a great foil for Denzel, and the two are clearly having a great time playing off of each other.


That these two are such magnets for the audience's attention compensates for the fact that no one else really does anything in the movie. Turturro stands over Denzel's shoulder, Mayor Gandolfini squawks his way past a Tony Soprano impression (having learned his lesson, it seems, from Lonely Hearts), and the rest of the terrorists in Ryder's crew pace the length of the car with their guns drawn but never actually have to fire. Even the hostages are fairly cookie-cutter.


But again, none of that really matters. When Garber is on the screen, I couldn't look at anyone else - even though I'm a huge fan of the other major hitters in the cast - because Denzel Washington is just that good. Perhaps I should stop before this turns into an overwrought love letter to one of the best actors of our time... oops, too late. Simply put, this movie is fun, refreshing for its simplicity in spite of its own crafty direction and seemingly involved plot (yes, I learned by the end of the film, it's really that straightforward).

The Taking of Pelham 123 is rated "R for violence and pervasive language." Violence is quick and sprinkled throughout the film, though bloody after-effects linger in the cramped subway car, and the language is standard F-bomb fare dropped casually and occasionally intensely about 50 times.

The Hangover (2009)

The Hangover isn't a terribly bright comedy, but it's laugh-out-loud in a "my cheeks hurt" kind of way, something I haven't really had since Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist.


With their best bud Doug (Justin Bartha, Riley from the National Treasure flicks [also known as the last watchable Nic Cage movies]) getting married, Phil, Stu, and Alan (Bradley Cooper, Ed "Andy Bernard" Helms, and Zach Galifianakis) decide to host the bachelor party to end all celebrations of singlehood. It's the party they never want to forget, but the next morning it becomes clear that this was the party that they can't remember: furniture is smoldering, there's a tiger in the bathtub, a baby wails in a closet, and Doug is missing. What follows is a quest to find their friend - and their memories.


Part of the magic of the film is the almost impossibly complicated shenanigans the hungover experience, and so it'd be ruining the fun if I told you any of what they discover they got into over the course of the night/morning. So, let a few generalizations suffice:

I wasn't prepared to laugh as much as I did at this movie. Perhaps the phenomenon I'm ready to call "Nick and Norah syndrome" is at fault here - it is, of course, easier to laugh at a film when watching it with multiple people. (The same thing happened with Anchorman for me, as well, a film I thought was stupid until I watched it with other people -- and fell in love.) But I was constantly laughing, smiling, or slapping my forehead during the entire movie. Like I said, my cheeks hurt; I clearly enjoyed myself.


Smart comedy? Certainly not - though none of the official Frat Pack members show up in this movie, this one might as well belong in the canon. (In fact, between this and Wedding Crashers, Bradley Cooper might as well be an honorary Frat Packer.) The Hangover is riddled with the kind of humor I've come to expect: people under the influence losing their inhibitions, profuse amounts of randomized vomiting, people ramming their heads into car doors and other objects, as well as pretty prose peppered with profanities. That, a baby in sunglasses, and the funniest photos-over-credits montage I've seen in a long while (replete with Wayne Newton cameo).


The cast is magical in their roles, especially frontmen Cooper, Helms, and Galafianakis. Heather Graham is charming but relatively one-dimensional as the Vegas wife of the gents, and there's a delightful near-cameo from Jeffrey Tambor (George Sr. of Arrested Development fame) as Doug's future father-in-law. Even Mike Tyson does a decent job of eliciting a few chuckles in his self-parodic supporting role, singing and slugging with the best of them - though the star song in this one belongs to Helms, who delivers an impromptu "What Do Tigers Dream Of?" reminiscent of his crooning moments on The Office.


A guy comedy that ought to appeal to chicks as well (the packed house I was in was made up of about half and half, all of whom seemed to be having a good time), The Hangover is more than enough fun for moviegoers looking for loads of laughs.

Deservedly so, The Hangover is rated "R for pervasive language, sexual content including nudity, and some drug material." No dearth of profane and sexualized dialogue, though nudity is fairly fleeting and played for laughs. Like all black-out nights, drugs were involved, and there's some confusion over what drugs exactly were (ab)used.

Lonely Hearts (2006)

Lonely Hearts tries hard, but it's no LA Confidential. Instead of being a gritty period piece (this time modeled on a true story rather than a James Ellroy novel), Lonely Hearts is ultimately little more than a limp cop thriller with a cast that's seen better days.

This was a true story that was unfamiliar to me, but someone out there must know of the Lonely Hearts Killers - Raymond Fernandez (Jared Leto) and Martha Beck (Salma Hayek) - who answered personals ads and swindled WWII widows of their "hero's pay." The film also follows the cops (from right in the image: John Travolta, James Gandolfini, and Scott Caan) on the killers' heels.

I like cop films - the fact that I've reviewed four Dirty Harry movies in less than a month should be testament to that. And I like period films - I'm often nostalgic for a 1930/40s that probably never was, and Glenn Miller's on my Top 100 Most Played in iTunes. And I'm a huge fan of most of the headliners in this movie. Why then doesn't director/screenwriter Todd Robinson's film about his own grandfather (Travolta) work?

Though this isn't Robinson's debut film, parts of Lonely Hearts feel amateurish. There's a lot in here that doesn't work, and the screenplay isn't among the strongest. Perhaps I've been jaded by Brian Cox's stellar cameo in Adaptation ("God help you if you use voiceover in your work, my friends! God help you!"), but I've been so badly brainwashed against the concept of a narrator that even Morgan Freeman is an unlikely-at-best antidote. Gandolfini's narrative is confusing, suffering both from stylized diction and an equally heavy accent that feels like a holdover from the days of The Sopranos. Consequently, most of the important exposition is lost in the squawking swamps of Gandolfini's voice, and so the film can be a touch inaccessible.

Gandolfini's certainly not at the top of his game, nor is Travolta, who I usually enjoy in almost anything. Here Travolta seems weary, as though he's not putting his heart and soul into this one. In fact, one might invoke the old cliche and say that Travolta seems to have phoned this one in. It's almost as though Robinson was afraid to ask too much of his actors. Lynch-muse Laura Dern floats in and out without much consequence to the plot, and Leto looks too much like Zac Efron with a mustache to be truly intimidating. Indeed, the only performance in Lonely Hearts that seems to succeed (other than Scott Caan, who is entertaining but neither is given much time nor seems to fit in at all) is Salma Hayek, who does a more than adequate job of bringing the simmering psychosis of her character to a brutal boil throughout the film.

The film, though, lacks a grounding stability that would have made it feel more coherent. The film isn't sure if it wants to be a cop film or a criminal film and can't manage to strike a happy balance between the two. Near the tail end of the film, things spiral out of control, and the audience's heads starts spinning when characters behave irrationally and the plot starts taking "How did that happen?" turns. Furthermore, Lonely Hearts isn't a terribly good period piece, either; the sets, cars, and wardrobes look the part, but none of the actors really fit into the mold of the late 1940s and so the film feels unsettlingly anachronistic. A few moments look good (Gandolfini in the barn at the end of the film is well-shot), but on the whole the film doesn't feel right.

Perhaps in the hands of a more able director (Michael Mann, perhaps?) with a more coherent screenplay (no one writes crime like William Monahan), Lonely Hearts might have been a better film. As it stands, though, the film disappointingly falls flat despite tremendous potential from its otherwise-golden cast (and the tremendous hope this reviewer had going into the picture).

The MPAA rated Lonely Hearts "R for strong violence and sexual content, nudity and language." The violence is brutal, gory, and sprinkled throughout the film in liberal doses. Nudity is less frequent but still present, frequently surrounded with sexualized situations (as well as unsettling concepts of incest), and the language is standard F-bomb fare for a cop film, albeit one set before I like to believe people talked like that.

Defiance (2008)

It's somewhat surprising to encounter a Holocaust film that breaks new ground and tells a story that hasn't really been told before. In telling the true story of the Bielski partisans, Edward Zwick's Defiance does just that, and decently so at that.

Daniel Craig and Liev Schreiber star as Tuvia and Zus Bielski, brothers who lead a group of Polish Jews into the forests to evade Nazi persecution after a series of grisly hunts and raids. As they begin to make camp, more survivors trickle in (the highest number quoted in the film is 1200) and tensions begin to grow between the Bielski brothers, who hold different beliefs about how best to react to their plight.

Aside from the originality of a surprisingly heretofore untold true story, there are two things that really stand out in this fim and are thus meritorious of comment here on this blog: the casting and the pacing. First, the casting. Craig and Schreiber are excellent casting choices, valuable assets to any film for which they're selected. Though they're not quite on the level of Liam Neeson in Schindler's List (still the pinnacle of Holocaust performances for me), they perfectly draw the distinction between their characters - Craig as the level-headed do-gooder Tuvia and Schreiber as the more vengeance-seeking guerilla fighter Zus. The rest of the supporting cast is solid, though nothing stands out like the two powerhouse performances fronting the film.

The pacing, however, is less creditable. The cinematography on the film is beautiful, especially with a good quality television, but at about two-and-a-quarter hours, Defiance starts to feel a little long, dragging its feet in a few places and ultimately sacrificing content for character. For the actors, this is a good thing - they get to hone their craft and turn in a more than decent performance - but for the audience it feels like Defiance is waiting to get started. A few well-done action sequences and several tense moments with Nazi patrols do a fair amount to break this deliberate and unhurried pace, though it felt like a few moments in the film could have been shortened without hurting the overall integrity of the piece.

For good performances and a new facet of the Holocaust, Defiance is a creditable two-some hours on film. For exciting shoot-em-ups, fans of Craig and Schreiber might want to stick with the Bond flicks (Casino Royale more than Quantum of Solace) and X-Men Origins: Wolverine.

Defiance is rated "R for violence and language." Though not as gory as most post-Saving Private Ryan WWII fare, this film does have a few violent shoot-out scenes, as well as occasional objectionable language and brief discussion of rape.

Wonder Woman (2009)

Of the big three at DC - Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman - the Amazon princess has always been my least favorite (Batman of course holding a special place in my geek's heart). 2009's latest installment in the DC Universe Animated Original Movie line, an origin film for Wonder Woman, won't be dethroning Batman and Superman from their Top Two positions, but it might help build Wonder Woman's street cred for me.

As an origin film, Wonder Woman explores the backstory behind Diana (voice of Keri Russell), daughter of Amazon Queen Hippolyta (Virginia Madsen). Diana meets crash-landed Air Force pilot Steve Trevor (Nathan Fillion), but their budding romance is put on hold when evil god of war Ares (Alfred Molina) escapes from captivity.

As origin stories go, this one is pretty concise, dealing quickly with the birth of Diana and moving quickly into "first adventure" territory. At 74 minutes, the run time is a little brief, and I would have liked to see more content, perhaps a subplot with another of Wonder Woman's adversaries (Cheetah makes an appearance at the end, though there's plenty in the Amazon's stable of villains) or even just more of the "adjusting to America" scenes. What there is, I enjoyed, but I was left wanting more - whether Green Lantern: First Flight will deliver or whether I'll simply have to wait for Wonder Woman 2: Cheetahs Never Prosper (come on, that'd be an amazingly corny title, right in step with the tongue-in-cheek attitude of this animated adventure) remains to be seen.

Like every entry in the DCUA line (excepting, of course, the beautiful adaptation of Cooke's The New Frontier), Wonder Woman sports the same Dini/Timm look that fans either love or hate. I'm in the former category, having been a fan since Batman: The Animated Series way back in the early '90s. The animation is fun and streamlined, slick and stylized without being overly showy. My only complaint here is that some of the Amazons look very similar to each other, with background Amazons looking distractingly like main characters (how many Artemises can you spot?).

The voice cast is strong here, though Keri Russell wouldn't have been my first choice for Wonder Woman. As Ares, Alfred Molina is excellent, bringing the necessary gravitas for a mythological villain, though the animated figure doesn't exactly measure up to Molina's thick voice. Rosario Dawson and Virginia Madsen, as Artemis and Queen Hippolyta (respectively), are adequate choices with believably strong personalities bleeding through their dulcet tones, but the standout in the voice cast is Nathan Fillion as Steve Trevor. It helps that he gets all the best lines in the film - "You smell good" being one of the best examples of comedic timing - but Fillion's inflection and tongue-in-cheek sense of wit are what make his performance the best in the film.

The dialogue is a little corny, but it's surprisingly racy for an animated feature - and thus abundantly entertaining. Example: upon regaining consciousness, Steve Trevor finds himself bound with the Lasso of Truth as scores of angry Amazons loom over him. "I haven't had this dream since I was thirteen," he quips, adding to Hippolyta, "Your daughter's got a nice rack." The wit here borders on sexism, but its gaudy flamboyance (and expert delivery, mostly from Fillion) ends up sailing past any claims to misogyny. Instead, it's so over the top at times that it's something you can laugh both at and with.

The lackluster Superman: Doomsday aside, I've enjoyed the DCUA line of animated films thus far, and I'm looking forward to their interpretation of Green Lantern as well as the sterling Jeph Loeb-penned Superman/Batman: Public Enemies. Wonder Woman is a admirable addition to this line, even if it's sort of like that otherwise-lovable cousin that tells dirty jokes at family reunions.

Wonder Woman tousled with the MPAA and came out rated "PG-13 for violence throughout and some suggestive material." It's all cartoony, with little blood, but there are some pretty epic and extensive battle sequences and a surprising amount of decapitations (all in silhouette). The dialogue is more suggestive than I was expecting, and it's not subtle subtext that kids won't pick up on. It's mild compared to an Apatow script, but this ain't your momma's cartoon comic lingo.

Now with 100% more accessibility!

Greetings, loyal readers!

Those of you eagle-eyed surfers of the net may have noticed a slight overhaul going on last night here on The Cinema King. It all started with the 2009 season including MPAA ratings and explications; that's when I knew things might be changing around here.

But what we've added here ought to revolutionize the way you read The Cinema King. For a long time, Blogger has offered a feature called "Labels" (also known as "tags") that allows me to say briefly what each post includes. This feature had been heretofore ignored; most of my reviews are one-shot deals, with only a few select features getting the multiple post treatment (The Dark Knight... and that's about it).

Yet watching the Dirty Harry films, I realized a new potential for this feature. Labels/tags could easily enable readers to jump to similar reviews, be they similar with respect to genre, actor, franchise, rating, or decade.

Now you can do just that, loyal reader. In the sidebar on the right-hand side of the site, if you scroll down you'll encounter (in this order) "Welcome!", "About Me," "Blog Archive," and now "Labels." Hopefully this new feature will allow for greater interactivity, accessibility, and overall ease and enjoyment. You can now quickly jump to films within the decade, within the genre, with similar MPAA ratings, with similar actors or crew members, or just simply find movie titles alphabetically rather than in the order in which they were reviewed. You can also sort by "movie reviews" only or look at all the "announcements," "links," and "videos" posted here.

If there's a label you'd like to see on this site, let me know! I relish the comments you loyal readers feed me. Happy viewing!

Sudden Impact (1983)

Four movies into the franchise and Dirty Harry is starting to run out of steam. Despite being directed by star Clint Eastwood, Sudden Impact isn't as entertaining or as watchable as its three predecessors.

Sudden Impact feels more like a movie with Dirty Harry Callahan in it than an actual Dirty Harry movie. Callahan (Eastwood), after apparently intentionally giving a mob figure (a fun cameo from Michael V. "Frank Pentangeli from The Godfather, Part II" Gazzo) a heart attack, is given an assignment out of town to investigate a murdered man's past in San Paulo. He meets artist Jennifer Spenser (Eastwood's then-lover Sondra Locke) and starts romancing her, not knowing that Spenser is killing the men who raped her and her sister years ago.

Eastwood is excellent as always in the shoes of Inspector Callahan, menacing and grimacing his way through another picture. The film includes one of the most famous scenes in Dirty Harry's career, right next to the "Do I feel lucky?" speech - here, he provokes a hostage taker by brandishing his trademark Magnum at the man and growling, "Go ahead, make my day." This scene alone is worth the price of admission; indeed, the first half or so of the film is all Eastwood's and ends up being the better half. Dodging mafia assassins and bonehead superiors, piecing together evidence ballistic report by report, and even acquiring a dog named Meathead in this one, Callahan continues to do it all.

Yet the film suffers for its unwillingness to relinquish full control of itself to Dirty Harry. Perhaps this is due to the fact that Eastwood is behind the camera for this adventure as well as in front of it, but the fact remains that the film spends far too much time on Jennifer's character and her backstory. Locke, unfortunately, is not an actress cut out to hold 49% of a Dirty Harry picture, which Sudden Impact asks her to do. The film also seems uncertain as to how it should react to Jennifer's crimes of revenge - is she a villain, a victim, a combination of both? Until the film's final moments, when Dirty Harry re-enters the plot and has a chance to weigh in, the film waffles like a long-faced senator from Massachusetts.

The film (according, at least, to Wikipedia) is the darkest and "dirtiest" of the Dirty Harry pictures, and at this it succeeds, so kudos to Eastwood as director for accomplishing this look and feel for the fourth film in the franchise. The film, however, is slowly-paced whenever Jennifer is on-screen - the film seems confused as to who its main character - and ultimately its hero - ought to be. Callahan continues to captivate; Jennifer, unfortunately, muddles this adventure.

While still fun and not the worst movie one could find to watch on a weekday afternoon, Sudden Impact is relatively lackluster when compared to its sterling predecessors - particularly the original, Dirty Harry, which still remains the greatest of the films. Stay tuned to see how The Dead Pool, the final Dirty Harry movie (despite rumors that Gran Torino would be the sixth outing for Callahan), measures up.


The MPAA gave Sudden Impact an R rating, a rating which would stand today for its gritty depictions of violence and of sexual assault, its strong profane language, as well as a brief scene of nudity (what are these types of scenes doing in a Callahan adventure?).

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998)

Has a Terry Gilliam movie ever made complete sense to anyone? Probably not, but I think we can all agree they're at least intriguing when it comes to visual spectacle.

Gilliam's 1998 adaptation of the famous novel by Hunter S. Thompson is an optical tour de force, as close to an actual acid trip as one could come without skirting legal boundaries. Johnny Depp is Raoul Duke, Thompson's fictitious alter ego, assigned to cover motorcycle races and "dangers of drugs" conventions in Las Vegas. Duke brings along his questionable lawyer Dr. Gonzo (an off-the-wall Benicio del Toro) and a suitcase full of every controlled (and potentially uncontrollable) substance known to man. The results are, shall we say, mind-blowing.

Both Depp and del Toro turn in career-capping performances, among the best in both their respective canons. Depp is spot on as Raoul Duke, mastering every one of the little quirks - the walk, the talk, the hair - that make Hunter S. Thompson such an identifiable figure in American culture. And del Toro is so far out there that you'll wonder how much of that is acting and how much of that is "method" acting; the fact that Dr. Gonzo is often brandishing a deadly weapon doesn't hurt. There are fun cameos from Cameron Diaz, Gary Busey, Christina Ricci, Penn Jillette, and Gregory Itzin along the way, but the show belongs to Depp and del Toro all the way.

Of course, the film has a third star - the eye-popping visuals. Since much of the film finds its two protagonists on one bender or another, the look of the film is extremely important to capturing this mood. Fortunately, trippy and surreal imagery has never been a particular weakness of Gilliam's; between the brutally slanted camera angles, the dramatically off-kilter lighting, and the oddball props and lizard costumes that appear at random, the film is as unsettling as it is riveting.

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, then, is a little like Barton Fink - it doesn't make a whole heck of a lot of sense, but it's gripping in a way that it shouldn't be. A film this nonsensical, this non sequitur, this irrational, shouldn't be as interesting as Gilliam and his acting crew make it. It's incoherent, sure, but it's a lot of fun! Nothing happens for vast periods of time, and while this complete lack of plot, exposition, or even substance can be a little irritating, it's nonetheless something from which you can't tear yourself away.

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas got the gift of an "R for pervasive extreme drug use and related bizarre behavior, strong language, and brief nudity" from the MPAA. Drugs and their side-effects are in every scene of the movie, as is pretty harsh language. I don't remember nudity at all.

Wind Chill (2007)

Let's go ahead and put Wind Chill on the list of reasons why I like George Clooney, who produced this thrilling horror picture directed by Gregory Jacobs. You won't, of course, feel any of Clooney's influence on the work, but I'm glad he was smart enough to bring this movie to life.

I've been a big fan of Emily Blunt since becoming a begrudging fan of The Devil Wears Prada (and, to an extent, Meryl Streep), and so her starring role in a horror film (after my recent encounter with the disappointing Blair Witch Project) was enough of an impetus for me to pick up a movie I'd never even heard of and give it a shot.

I'm glad I did. Blunt plays a college student traveling home to Delaware for Christmas break. Rather than take the bus home, she checks the ride board and finds a car headed to Delaware, though she's initially perturbed by the shy yet subtly unsettling driver, who's concealing a fairly large secret. A detour on Route 606 goes awry, and the two crash into a snowbank. Yet the budding conflict between these two co-eds is the least of their worries; the snowy woods, naturally, appear to be haunted.

First, I must offer the same caveat I gave when reviewing The Descent - perhaps this film only worked because I watched it after midnight with all the lights off. At any rate, that certainly helped make the movie a success. What helps more is the direction Jacobs gives here, building an ominous mood throughout the work, beginning with the mystery surrounding Holmes's character and reaching its discomfiting peak as the never-named protagonists try to wait out the snow storm until dawn. This movie has just the right amount of just the right kind of chills, the kind that made The Strangers a surprise success - those moments where we see an out-of-focus figure lurking just behind our oblivious hero (here, heroine more often than not). The ghosts in these woods are numerous, each more frightening than the last; though it's difficult to top the first ghost Blunt encounters, Martin Donovan's sketchy highway patrolman comes darned close.

There are a few moments in the movie that come close to not working, but they're quick and don't interfere with the thrills and chills the movie offers. The introduction of a philosophical tenet key to the meaning of the film seems a touch hackneyed, though it's quickly (and deftly) forgotten, only to be recalled when it matters. Furthermore, the movie falters a little when the history of Route 606 is revealed; the movie's put virtually on hold for a minute or so while one character narrates a ton of exposition that, honestly, attentive viewers would have been able to piece together.

And the ending. It's a good ending the way screenwriters Joseph Gangemi and Steven Katz crafted it, but it could have been a touch better if the writers had gone for a Twilight Zone-style twist ending rather than the easier and more digestible dénouement. (After the ratings analysis, I'll tell you what my ending would have been, for those interested.)

For those looking for a few good chills and a deep unsettling feeling in the pit of one's stomach, Wind Chill is perfectly serviceable in that regard. When done right, the formula of Pretty Protagonist + Creepy Male + Ghosts + Eerie Surroundings ought to equal success. The formula frequently falters, however, but Wind Chill adds up in all the right places.


The MPAA rated Wind Chill "R for some violence and disturbing images." It'd be brutally painful for me to reveal what these images are, since they're strong elements in the surprisingly dreadful mood Jacobs works so hard to craft. Suffice it to say that the ghosts are very unattractive, in varying stages of decay, and some of the ramifications of the car crash aren't pretty either.

Now for The Cinema King's ending. As it stands, the film ends - SPOILER ALERT - with Guy dying and becoming one of the ghosts, doomed as it were to repeat this life. Guy manages to save Girl from Patrolman and eventually leads her through the snowy woods to safety. What I would have liked to see would have looked very similar to this, only with Girl becoming one of the ghosts, as well. Something like that would have brought the theme of repetition fully to life, would have put that final kick to the audience's gut, and would have made Rod Serling blush with envy. In the words of the great and venerable Dennis Miller, "Of course, that's just my opinion. I could be wrong."