Thursday, December 1, 2005 Edition
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Film Reviews:


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Review: 'Just Friends'

By Erin Randolph

At the beginning of "Just Friends," the audience is treated to a retainer-wearing, fat-suit clad Ryan Reynolds. But it's not the fat suit that's funny. It's not the addition of the prosthetic second chin, either, which really is more of a second neck that looks like it's about to eat the rest of his bloated face. It's the sincere lip-syncing in the mirror to All-4-One's "I Swear" that's the funniest part, because it's like, so 1995. And it's this beginning part that shows how good "Just Friends" could have been. And it's another bout of lip-syncing during the end credits that really brings this point home.

But back to the fat suit. Here we meet Chris, the token "fat kid" in school who just happens to be best friends with the "most popular girl" (Amy Smart as Jamie) in school. He also happens to have (surprise) a major crush on her that she doesn't yet know about. But at a party on the night of their graduation, Chris writes his true feelings and his plea for something more in her yearbook. But of course, a mix-up puts Jamie's yearbook in the hands of the "asshole football player," who reads Chris' sentiments aloud, much to Chris' dismay and embarrassment. And then, as if things couldn't get worse, Jamie responds to Chris' writings by dumping him in the dreaded "just friends" bottomless pit.

Jump 10 years in the future, when Chris is now a skinny, successful, hunky music executive in Los Angeles. He'd left his teenage home in New Jersey long ago, vowing never to go back. And why would he? He's now neck-deep in females. However, when his plane trip to Paris with a music artist prospect (Anna Faris as Samantha Jones) - also unfortunately an overbearing ex-girlfriend of his - gets grounded in new Jersey, he returns home, where he tries to woo Jamie with his LA bravado.

But now he's got new competition. The once-acne ridden, and now hunky-nice guy Dusty (Chris Klein) is also back in the picture. And while the two do battle for the affections of their high school crush, snafus occur, such as a hockey puck to the teeth and Christmas decorations set on fire. And while there are moments of mild amusement, "Just Friends" adds up to little more than a mixture of romantic comedy and Christmas film clichés. And though many of the elements are the same, "Just Friends" is no "Something About Mary."

It's not that the laughs aren't there. It's just that we've already laughed at these physical comedy antics before - in much better movies. Reynolds, who's perhaps better known for his relationship with moody Canadian alt-rocker Alanis Morrissette than for his roles in "National Lampoon's Van Wilder" and "Waiting...," is an easy enough guy to root for, and he's a funny enough actor, but here he just doesn't meet the challenge of carrying this film into redeeming territory.

And to use the cliché the film encourages (because, hey, the movie wasn't all that innovative either), "Just Friends" is a film that will never rise above a casual acquaintance, the kind that's good to have around in case you're left with the people equivalents of "Jersey Girl" or "Deuce Bigalow: European Gigalo." CV

Review: 'Rent'

By Carolyn Szczepanski

What do you get when you cross a couple episodes of "Dawson's Creek" with a mix of low-budget music videos and a few pick-up truck commercials? An embarrassing mockery of a Pulitzer Prize- and Tony Award-winning play.

Jonathan Larson's "Rent" - a play following a group of starving artists battling disease and discrimination in New York City - debuted in 1996 to critical acclaim and instant popularity. Reinventing the musical genre for the modern audience, it was only a matter of time before this rock opera went Hollywood. But those who have seen "Rent" on stage will alternately cringe and chuckle at the ineptitude of this big screen adaptation.

First off, the music is so overblown it nearly drowns out the actor's voices and Larson's lyrics, which in the case of the former isn't necessarily a bad thing. While on stage the progression of songs creates continuity and plot flow, here tunes are shuffled out of context producing the disjointed feel of an extended string of hackneyed music videos. In fact, even scenes so well-conceived they'd be a no-brainer for an elementary school cast are inevitably overcooked or stone cold, leaving fans marveling at how contrived such inspired songs can appear in 2-D.

But it's not all Director Chris Columbus' fault. Though big on name recognition, the cast is short on substance. Collins (Jesse L. Martin) is cartoonishly hyper, while his ebullient drag-queen partner, Angel (Wilson Jermaine Heredia), is underplayed. Mimi (Rosario Dawson) is all victim and no vibrancy, while Roger (Adam Pascal) sticks to being a vacuous pretty boy, barely hinting at the character-defining bitterness at a lifetime of hopes extinguished. And Mark (Anthony Rapp) must have been cast by a deaf guy in a dark alley because the blonde-haired wimp is downright insufferable.

Of course, not all the laugh-out-loud inadequacy is the fault of the actors either. The bungled translation from stage to screen also is to blame: sure, the outstretched arms, poignant stares and grasping the sides of the pool table in the midst of an emotional song are all good drama onstage. But on the big screen, such overdrawn liberties make the whole production look like a childish farce. A farce that will, no doubt, leave true "Rent" fans grasping for their soundtracks to resuscitate their faith in this modern theater classic. CV


Review: 'The Ice Harvest'

By Joshua Tyler

"The Ice Harvest" should be a slam dunk. Harold Ramis is the right director for this sort of thing, his wry wit and biting sense of humor ideally suited for the dark, crime comedy this is supposed to be. It's got the right cast too. John Cusack and Billy Bob Thornton teamed up for a "Trapped in Paradise"-esque, Christmas caper? It should be genius. It isn't. Here's the thing: it just isn't very funny. Instead, "Ice Harvest" is a morose, sometimes depressing flick. It's not a dark comedy so much as it is a miserable one.

The premise is all too familiar. Charlie (John Cusack) and Vic (Billy Bob Thornton) have decided to steal from their employers, the mob. Charlie is a mob lawyer; Vic heads up the strippers and porn division of gang boss Bill Guerrard's empire. Their plan? Steal $2 million and get the hell out of town before anyone notices. Well, maybe not right out of town. Instead, they decide to hang around a few hours, for reasons understood only to them. There's talk of icy roads, but that doesn't seem to stop them from driving around town from location to location as a plot device to get themselves in trouble. In between stealing money and getting himself caught, Charlie hops between strip clubs and bars making a spectacle of himself even though Vic has just reminded him to lay low and act normal. Charlie bumps into his old friend Pete (Oliver Platt) and the movie comes alive for awhile so that Oliver Platt can steal scenes.

The basic problem here is this: "The Ice Harvest" thinks it's a comedy and it isn't. It's not even a dark comedy. For the most part, it's simply unhappy without purpose, meandering from one depressing stripper, drunk or corrupt cop to another. The witty lines are too few and far between. The film's trailers have heralded it as this year's "Bad Santa," and they're only doing it a disservice. "Bad Santa" is sick, twisted, irreverent and depraved. "The Ice Harvest" is none of those things and instead kind of settles in on being flat--out sad. CV

 

Review: 'Capote'

By Dan Vinson

The first two scenes of "Capote," the discovery of the murders, then an upscale party at which Truman Capote holds court, perhaps best sum up his quirky life. To profile the celebrated "Breakfast at Tiffany's" author, director Bennett Miller focuses on the years immediately following its success. It all begins in November 1959, when Capote reads about a brutal quadruple homicide in tiny Holcomb, Kan., and decides to report on it for The New Yorker magazine.

With his trusty research assistant and lifelong friend Nelle Harper Lee (yes, that Harper Lee, sternly played by Catherine Keener), Capote (Philip Seymour Hoffman) boards the cross-country train from New York City to the heartland. He could do it without her, but Nelle is Capote's way in. Because people usually judge his supremely effeminate mannerisms, she disarms the suspicious townspeople first. Their first stop: the police station to meet Chief Alvin Dewey (Chris Cooper), who is all business, and not at all impressed with this New York "dandy." They interview the murdered daughter's best friend, and others. (In these early scenes, Capote and Nelle appear to be crime solving.) They visit the crime scene, attend press conferences, and begin wining and dining at the Dewey's, where Truman hopes to secure further access. Most nights, Truman talks long-distance to boyfriend Jack (Bruce Greenwood), also a writer, maintaining that he will return soon. But then suddenly, the Las Vegas Police Department calls to say they have the Kansas killers, two drifters. After extradition, Truman visits Perry Smith (Clifton Collins Jr.). Perry says little, but Truman is spellbound.

Eventually Nelle's book, "To Kill a Mockingbird," gets a publisher, so she leaves Kansas, and Truman, who is still visiting/interviewing both men in Leavenworth, takes periodic trips -New York to reassure The New Yorker, Spain to reassure Jack - only to return again and again. But does Truman feel something for him? Or, is he simply using Perry for his masterpiece? (By this point, it's no longer just one article but a series, with a "non-fiction novel" to follow.) Because he usually says whatever will get him his way, it's hard to tell how Capote actually feels. He gives readings in New York but tells Perry he doesn't even have a title: "I haven't written a word." In literature, Capote would be an "unreliable narrator," in the film he's the unreliable subject. The only hint at how he truly feels comes at the gallows, six long years after the murders, and into his defining project.

In a fall of rich biopics, Philip Seymour Hoffman is likely the actor to beat. He doesn't just play Truman Capote; he embodies him, infusing his quirks with a subtle gravity. Clifton Collins Jr. is touching as the increasingly remorseful Perry, and Chris Cooper is always a welcome presence.

From handheld to deep, wide shots, Adam Kimmel's cinematography is focused, yet expansive, mirroring director Miller's documentary background, Dan Futterman's superb screenplay, and "Capote" overall. Those other biopics, "Good Night, and Good Luck," and "Walk the Line" also capture single sections of their subjects' lives, while capturing a single section of American life, the suddenly go-to decade of the 1950s. This postwar decade changed everything for Truman Capote and for America. Capote predicted he would never recover from Perry's death and, awash in alcohol, he never wrote another book. Awash in paranoia, America has never quite recovered either. CV


Review: 'Walk the Line'

By Jon Gaskell

James Mangold's "Walk the Line" retells the first half of Johnny Cash's life - from his tragically unhappy childhood in Arkansas, to his quick rise to country music fame despite a wife who wanted him to be in sales, to his addiction to amphetamines. And unlike last year's "Ray," which left viewers clapping their hands and humming along to looped tunes, "Walk" is a raw, rough ride that should do quite a bit of strolling down the aisle come Oscar night.

Deep down, "Walk" is a love story about two deeply troubled souls - Cash played by Joaquin Phoenix and June Carter played by Reese Witherspoon - but it's no honeymoon. Cash is unhappy in marriage, Carter is divorced, and the long hours of being on the road (along with Elvis and Jerry Lee Lewis) create the type of tension that was taboo in the 1950s. Getting there, for this group anyway, is not half the fun, as Cash openly yearns for Carter, his lovesickness spread thickly over his long, black sleeve.

For the viewer, however, "Walk" plays out like a country ballad - lots of ups, lots of downs. Cash needs Carter to save him from himself, following her around like a Tennessee hound dog, while Carter does well to keep him at bay, playing cute and flirting on stage, tempting him when the curtain goes down. And Phoenix and Witherspoon are brilliant in their respective roles. This isn't mere impersonation. These are actors who went places neither has ever been before to find what made these superstars tick. Neither is a spot-on match for their character, and thus "Walk" takes a while to get used to, as does Phoenix's singing, which turns out to be utterly affecting, growing with confidence as one would imagine a boy with a dream-turned-rock star's would, digging deep for that certain something that steered him toward Nashville in the first place.

"Steady as a train and sharp like a razor," Carter says of Cash's voice after first seeing him perform. The same could be said of "Walk the Line." CV


Review: 'Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang'

By Erin Randolph

It's apparent that "Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang" isn't your typical action movie when the film reel appears to stop, spin backwards and start up again at a different point, with a narrator apologizing for being a poor narrator by missing pieces of the story. Or maybe it's when a dog eats a lopped-off finger or when a corpse is urinated upon. In any event, "Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang" is a witty, intelligent tribute to film noir that feels as much pulp fiction as it does "Pulp Fiction."

Harry Lockhart (Robert Downey Jr.) is a petty thief whose choice in career improves after his after-hours Christmas "shopping" trip goes awry. However, as he runs from the cops, he runs right into a movie audition for a Hollywood detective movie. Touting him as a potential new face in Hollywood, the producer flies him out to Los Angeles for a screen test.

It's at a trendy Hollywood party that Lockhart meets "Gay" Perry (Val Kilmer), a real-life (gay) private investigator who's tapped to help Lockhart prepare for his screen test. It's also at this point that Lockhart is reintroduced to his high school crush, Harmony Faith Lane (Michelle Monaghan), now an aspiring actress who moved to LA at the age of 16, inspired by her hero Jonny Gossamer, a private eye from a series of pulp fiction novels.

All three are thrown into a real-life murder mystery when the suicide of Harmony's sister intersects with an unrelated case that Lockhart and Perry are investigating. As bodies surface and resurface and the bad guys just keep on coming, the three must employ their own detective skills to solve the case.

In recent years, having the name "Val Kilmer" on a movie poster was basically a box office death wish. And Robert Downey Jr.'s career has been plagued by drug- and alcohol-fueled rehab stints. But these two shine in their roles together, providing an unlikely chemistry through their intelligent banter. "Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang" is a movie hopped up on caffeine. With boundless plot twists, quick-witted and clever language, "Kiss Kiss" doesn't insult the audience's intelligence. It instead gives it the benefit of the doubt, which will undoubtedly mean the dialogue will be over some people's heads. CV

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