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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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