The Magnificent Seven (2016)

The very first thing that must be said about The Magnificent Seven is that any movie directed by Antoine Fuqua that stars Denzel Washington is automatically worth a look. Having said that, one can’t help but feel that The Magnificent Seven suffers a bit for being an ensemble piece because we don’t get as much Denzel time as we deserve. That’s not to say that The Magnificent Seven is ever boring or unwatchable, but it is underwhelming.

In a remake of the eponymous 1960 western (which was itself a remake of Seven Samurai), Denzel Washington stars as Sam Chisolm, a bounty hunter recruited by Emma Cullen (Haley Bennett) to save her village from a mustache-twirling robber baron (Peter Sarsgaard) who wants the exclusive mining rights to the valley. Chisolm assembles a posse comprised of the self-proclaimed “world’s greatest lover” (Chris Pratt), a mountain man (Vincent D’Onofrio), a traumatized Confederate and his Chinese comrade (Ethan Hawke and Byung-hun Lee), a Mexican outlaw (Manuel Garcia-Rulfo), and a Comanche (Martin Sensmeier) on his own path.

Here’s a pretty good cast, and it’s really very evident that they’re all having a terrifically good time together. D’Onofrio is delightfully strange, as is his wont, and the rest of the cast seem to enjoy playing off that peculiarity. (Ten points to anyone who can identify that accent, incidentally.) Washington and Pratt are, essentially playing variations on the Yul Brynner and Steve McQueen, with an engaging chemistry between the two of them.

It is, however, a chemistry predicated on Pratt playing the clown and Denzel as the straight man, which is a tragic underutilization of the latter’s skill. It’s no surprise that Pratt is a success as a character that boils down to “Star Lord by way of John Wayne,” but it’s a wonder that Denzel loses to his costar so many opportunities for clever one-liners and sarcastic reactions. This isn’t to say that Denzel himself is a disappointment – in a sense playing both the leads of Django Unchained, Denzel is charismatic and heartbreaking, determined and haunted, and (we sense) withholding a part of himself from his exterior out of a sense of duty and propriety. But it is a bit of a letdown to come to expect a leading performance out of an actor who’s modest enough to embrace his role as 14% of an ensemble.

The Magnificent Seven is not, as its title promises, magnificent. It’s not a transcendent moviegoing experience, but then again in late September I don’t think it has to be. Because on the other hand, The Magnificent Seven is not a disappointment of heroic proportions. It’s fun and fluffy and diverting, and it doesn’t do anything egregiously wrong. It’s in that Baby Bear territory of “just right,” and perhaps it’s gluttonous of me to want the Papa Bear portion of a Denzel Washington western. Moreover, it’s different enough from its predecessors to justify its existence as a variation on a theme. At any rate, keep them coming, Denzel, because I’ll be in the front row every time.

The Magnificent Seven is rated PG-13. Directed by Antoine Fuqua. Written by Nic Pizzolatto and Richard Wenk. Starring Denzel Washington, Chris Pratt, Ethan Hawke, Vincent D'Onofrio, Byung-hun Lee, Manuel Garcia-Rulfo, Martin Sensmeier, Haley Bennett and Peter Sarsgaard.

Training Day (2001)

Before we begin Depp Week 2010 here at The Cinema King, we're going to flashback to 2001 for a look at the performance that netted Denzel Washington a much-deserved Academy Award: dishonest cop Alonzo Harris in Training Day.

The film is pretty much a Denzel Washington performance with a plot and a few other actors around it, but there's a formula to a Cinema King review, so let's remain consistent: It's Jake Hoyt's (Ethan Hawke) first day on the job as a narcotics officer, and he's assigned to veteran Alonzo Harris (Washington), who's got a mean streak and a penchant for dispensing brutal "street justice." Over the course of 24 hours, Jake has to decide what side of the law Alonzo is on - and what side he himself wants to be on.

I really liked this movie - in fact, I fully expected to - so I'm not going to kid around about it. I've never met a Denzel Washington movie I didn't like, and Training Day is no exception. To keep the food metaphors going, it's a little like a steak - I'd been interested for a long time but was waiting for just the right moment; it didn't disappoint but rather is now something I'll be ready to revisit later (just not every day). It's just delicious. If I have a complaint about this movie, it's that there are scenes where Denzel isn't on camera, and when it's a performance this fine we feel cheated when he's not the permanent center of attention. (Of interesting note: an early choice for the role was Samuel L. Jackson; not sure how that would have compared to what we have here, but it makes me long for a prequel crossover between this and Lakeview Terrace.)

I've said before that the hallmark of any Denzel Washington performance is the way he conveys the fun that he's having into the audience. Maybe it's his infectious grin, or maybe it's his discreet naturalism - whatever it is, it's working. Alonzo Harris is fascinating in a way that a lot of crooked cop characters aren't; where most are fairly one-dimensional, Alonzo is unique in that he's deceptively sympathetic. Like Milton's Satan in Paradise Lost, Alonzo is compelling to the extent that the audience might actually begin sympathizing with him - coming from Alonzo, taking drugs and setting up a dealer for a fall all sound like good ideas until we remember that this is the bad guy talking. It's not difficult to see, then, why Jake begins to be seduced by Alonzo's ideas; Hawke's performance doesn't hurt, either, since here he's as good as he was in Lumet's Before the Devil Knows You're Dead.

It's part of the trivia surrounding Training Day that its screenplay was written by one man and one man only, with no team of rewriters - David Ayer, who does a taut job introducing plot aspects and tying together loose ends which seem at first to be disconnected. The dialogue is sterling, too, realistic while still presenting itself as quotable: Denzel's closing monologue is already a staple for Denzel impressionists, and you'll be riffing a few of your favorite lines in the days to come, I'll bet. Fuqua's direction is on top, too, particularly in a grueling scene in which Jake finds himself at gunpoint in a room full of angry gang members.

But the film's greatest strength is turning Denzel loose and letting him work his magic. That alone - the opportunity to see one of the greatest living actors work his magic in a role that isn't exactly the type he's known for. Training Day is a far cry from John Q (the film that introduced me to Denzel), but it's as compelling a performance as any other one he's given... and maybe it's even his best (I'm still enamored with Malcolm X as the topper).
Training Day is rated R "for brutal violence, pervasive language, drug content and brief nudity." Definitely one of the more in-your-face violent movies, without shyness when it comes to gore or intensity; of course there are F-bombs galore and some heavy drug use in a few scenes, as well as an attempted rape and a fleeting scene of out-of-focus nudity.

Lord of War (2005)

I went into Lord of War expecting not to like it. Even as the FBI warning flashed across my screen, I settled into the couch and thought, "This is gonna be bad." I was expecting a cheesy accent, over-the-top emoting, and a film that generally deserved a better star.

Fortunately, I was mostly wrong. Lord of War is, in spite of my preconceived notions, enjoyable, and even Cage himself is pretty good here.

Narrated by its protagonist, Lord of War is a demi-biopic of arms dealer Yuri Orlov (Cage), who finds himself adapting to a new geopolitical climate after the fall of the Soviet Union. With his brother Vitaly (Jared "Paul Allen" Leto) as his partner, Orlov grapples with competing arms dealer Simeon Weisz (a smarmy Ian Holm), allies himself with Liberian dictator Andre Baptiste (Eammon Walker), and woos the girl of his dreams, model Ava Fontaine (Bridget Moynahan) - all while doding Interpol and its persistent agent Jack Valentine (Ethan Hawke). The film is a standard rise-and-fall story, with a moralistic twist at the end that turns it into a little something more.

I have a love-hate relationship with Nicolas Cage's films. Early Nic Cage - Raising Arizona, for example, and Honeymoon in Vegas - demonstrated a flair for comedic timing while playing offbeat characters with quirky and well-played mannerisms. A funny thing happened on the way to the modern day, and somewhere Nic's career fell to splinters, culminating in what I affectionately call the "Trilogy of Terrible" - Ghost Rider, Next, and The Wicker Man (my personal favorite "bad movie"). Recently, though, he seems to be on a bit of an upswing; the National Treasure franchise won't win any Oscars, but they're at least watchable, and I thought Cage was fantastic as Big Daddy in Kick-Ass. Lord of War brings Cage another step closer on the path to redemption, though he has a long way to go if I'm to forget the (in)famous line "How'd it get burned?!"

The rest of the cast is, for the most part, interchangeable. No actor or actress leaves a truly indelible mark on the film such that the roles couldn't be played by anyone else; as pursuing Interpol agent Jack Valentine, Hawke is fine, but any other actor could have done one step better (I'm thinking of Denzel Washington, but I don't know why). As Ava, Moynahan often bemoans her status as just another pretty face in this film, but I'm wondering if there's a bit of metafictional irony behind that, since any other "pretty" actress could have been just as good here. The only exception, as always, is Ian Holm, who does a fantastic job embodying arms dealer Simeon, once the top in his field and now struggling to retain his position - but I would have liked to see more of him in here, since his appearances are delightful but few and far between.

Though I'm labeling this as a "good" film and "to my liking," I should go on record as saying that the movie falls apart once it runs into the stereotypical "arms dealing is bad" moralism that ends the film. What began as an entertaining flick with a conscience turns into a conscience with moving pictures; suddenly the audience is preached at, with heavyhanded talk of "necessary evils" and closing title cards that indict members of the U.S. government and the UN Security Council for being worse arms dealers than Yuri Orlov. Huh? I don't know what it is about me, but I'm running into problems with films that start as one thing and end as another without successfully transitioning between the two.

Consequently, the film - and Cage - seems to run out of steam by the end. Cage seems tired, the plot careens into a highly politicized direction, and the film ends with none of the joy that it bore in the first 90 minutes. Perhaps that's the point; gunrunning is a joyless occupation. All right, but the film changes its focus to attempt to highlight the international gunrunning scene when we've previously focused only on Yuri; this switch is sudden and virtually ineffective, leaving only a jarring sense and the feeling that we're watching a different movie than the one we started with.

Lord of War bears an R rating "for strong violence, drug use, language, and sexuality." The violence is particularly graphic here, and the language is pretty strong. Drug use is limited to a few scenes surrounding cocaine, and sexuality includes fleeting moments of nudity as well as a pronounced presence of adultery and prostitution.

New York, I Love You (2009)

It seems that the older I get, the shorter my attention span becomes. Maybe I'm just a jaded filmgoer, maybe today's flicks have run out of pizzazz, or maybe I'm being overdramatic about the whole getting-bored-quickly thing.

At any rate, the beauty of an anthology film is that you only have to invest about ten minutes in any given story. New York, I Love You represents the second in what is apparently a franchise devoted to vignettes about love in important world cities. I was initially only aware of the first "Cities of Love" film, Paris je t'aime (which really ought to be reviewed herein), a film near and dear to the romantic in me.

Before I go any further, I should preface this review by noting that by definition an anthology of any kind is naturally going to be hit or miss. Even Paris je t'aime has a few duds in the bunch. But unfortunately New York, I Love You is primarily a batch of misses with only a few hits. In honor of the anthology format, I'm going to shake things up and review each short separately and then think globally, with the caveat that New York is much more fluid, with its untitled segments intersecting and mingling much more than in Paris.

Director Jiang Wen has the first segment, which stars Hayden Christensen as a thief who picks Andy Garcia's pocket. After being smitten by passer-by Rachel Bilson, Christensen finds out that his quick con on Garcia isn't as easy as it looks. This vignette starts off as a cliche, and the fact that Christensen can't really act doesn't help. But when Garcia and Christensen share the screen, there's something better afoot, with each trying to one-up the other in a game of wills.

Mira Nair directs a more romantic tale about two salespeople (Natalie Portman and Irrfan Khan) married to other people but who fall in love with each other regardless. This segment is unfulfilling, carried by solid acting but lacking any dramatic resolution beyond a clever use of visual language which suggests that these two will always love each other.

Shunji Iwai gets one of the most romantic parts of the film when he brings musician Orlando Bloom together with receptionist Christina Ricci by using Dostoevsky. Props on that one and on creating an ending to their story which feels neither forced nor hackneyed.

Yvan Attal directs two segments, both of which are marked by narrative twists and compelling dialogue which conceals something important beneath the surface. Both are set outside restaurants with their characters on smoke breaks; in the first of these, Ethan Hawke propositions Maggie Q about the inevitability of their romance based on one chance encounter, while in the second Robin Wright Penn plays a jilted wife looking for a change when she meets Chris Cooper and propositions him. The parallel is less pronounced than it seems.

Brett Ratner's segment is my absolute favorite in the film and really the only portion I'd consider rewatching at least once. After breaking up with Blake Lively, Anton Yelchin (one of my new favorites after Charlie Bartlett) agrees to take pharmacist James Caan's daughter to the prom. There's one catch - the daughter (Olivia Thirlby) is in a wheelchair. Don't be fooled; whimsy ensues, and Yelchin's big wish comes true. This one has a fabulous twist; if you only watch one segment, watch this one.

After appearing in a few interstitials, Bradley Cooper co-stars with Drea de Matteo in Allen Hughes's narrator-heavy story about a regrettable one-night stand. This segment flops because it doesn't quite go anywhere, and the ending is abrupt and inconsistent with all but the title of the film.

In the most puzzling segment in the film, Shekhar Kapur directs Anthony Minghella's screenplay about an opera singer (Julie Christie) who returns to a hotel in New York and has separate encounters with two bellhops (John Hurt and Shia LeBeouf). If anyone can make heads or tails of this segment, please let me know what you've decided, as I can't wrap my head around it.

Natalie Portman steps behind the camera to direct a segment about a father's (Carlos Acosta) day in the park with his daughter (Taylor Geare). This segment is cute and fluffy but ultimately forgettable. Portman does a fine job writing and directing it, to the extent that I'd be curious what she can do with longer material.

Fatih Akin directs an empty segment about a painter (Ugur Yucel) who falls for Chinese herbalist Shu Qi and then dies. Burt Young peeks his head in as Yucel's landlord. Huh? That's about all this segment amounts to.

Joshua Marston writes/directs the final full segment, in which Eli Wallach and Cloris Leachman celebrate their 63rd anniversary. The dialogue in this segment is well-played and flows at a leisurely pace, but if you're looking for a conventional narrative you won't find it here. This segment feels very personal and personable, and it's a comfortable way to close the film.

Throughout, Randy Balsmeyer gives transition scenes which feature various characters entering taxicabs together; Emilie Ohana plays a videographer whose role in the film seems only to be to unite the characters. One interstitial in particular, though, is memorable, with Eva Amurri and Justin Bartha quarreling about how they never vacation together.

The DVD includes two deleted vignettes, one of them directed by Scarlett Johannson and starring Kevin Bacon as a New Yorker with a bad case of wanderlust. These deleted scenes, though, have rightfully been omitted, as they are entirely lifeless and protracted. Perhaps Ms. Johannson should stay in front of the camera looking pretty, which she's very good at doing if Iron Man 2 is any indication.

Taken separately, there is a fair amount to like about New York, I Love You, but taken together as a 103 minute film there is a lot of disappointment. The choice to more deliberately blend vignettes - Drea de Matteo visits James Caan's pharmacy, and Chris Cooper meets Maggie Q at a dry cleaner's - makes the film difficult to follow in points; it is often unclear where one story ends and another begins. This trademark of the first film is evident only in the film's most successful segments - Iwai's and especially Ratner's. On the whole, though, Ratner's segment is the only standout feature in an otherwise disappointing follow-up to Paris je t'aime.
New York, I Love You is rated "R for language and sexual content." This being a movie about New York, F-bombs pepper the dialogue; this being a movie about love, sex comes up in conversation and is depicted twice without any nudity to speak of.

Before the Devil Knows You're Dead (2007)

May you be in heaven half an hour, the old saying goes, before the devil knows you're dead.

The significance of the film's title is just one of the many things about which Sidney Lumet's latest - Before the Devil Knows You're Dead - will leave you thinking. Although I had a similar amount of unprocessed thoughts with Brokeback Mountain, I'm more inclined to label this film as "to my liking."

It seems almost a crime to give any sort of plot summary to the film, which jumps back and forth chronologically in order to properly tell the story of a heist gone wrong. (Sensing a trend in my summer movie tastes? I sure am.) Let's put it this way - you find all this out in about the first twenty minutes, anyway. Andy (Philip Seymour Hoffman) and Hank (Ethan Hawke) are two brothers, both of whom are hard up for money for reasons that the film will explain as the story progresses. So they decide on a victimless crime: the robbery of an insured mom and pop jewelry store. The catch? The mom and pop store belongs to Andy and Hank's mom and pop (Rosemary Harris [Spidey's Aunt May] and Albert Finney). Naturally, the heist goes horribly askew, and the film becomes a mix of covering the trail and making things right.

Credit Sidney Lumet's impeccable direction for keeping the film at an even pace while meandering to and fro in time. In a way, Lumet is doing the same thing that Lost has been doing for four years, only he's doing it one step better by making the flashbacks and flashforwards a) interesting and b) relevant to the plot.

Another element Lost is missing is strong character acting (of course Lost has its acting athletes like Michael Emerson, but... we're not here to review serialized drama, are we?). Each performance in here is top-notch; P.S. Hoffman deserved an Oscar for this more than he did for Capote (for the definitive Capote film, see Toby Jones in Infamous), Ethan Hawke redeems himself as an actor, and Albert Finney brings an intensity to his role that only a Brit can provide. Even Marisa Tomei, whose basic function here seems to be to stand around and look attractive, has her moments to shine.

I should also commend Kelly Masterson's masterful screenplay, which keeps the plot moving while alternating between moments of high tension and dramatic revelation. My only gripe here is that the fate of one of the main characters is left completely open ended; we last see this character running around a street corner, never to be seen or heard from again. It's as though the film should have gone on for another scene.

But it's good to see that, fifty years after his debut with 1957's Twelve Angry Men, Sidney Lumet hasn't lost his touch.