Alexander (2004)
Alexander the Great (1956)
Amazing Grace
American Beauty
Apocalypto
As Good As It Gets
The Big Lebowski
Bringing Out the Dead
Chicago
Click
The DaVinci Code
Fight Club
An Ideal Husband
King Arthur
Kiss or Kill
Lost In Space
Mr. Deeds
Moulin Rouge
Mulholland Drive
The Mummy
The Mummy Returns
My Giant
Natural Born Killers
O Brother, Where Art Thou?
Once Upon a Time in Mexico
The Passion of the Christ
The Prince of Egypt
Reign Over Me
Saving Private Ryan
Shakespeare In Love
Sin City
Sleepy Hollow
Snatch
Star Wars III - Revenge of the Sith
Stardust
300 / The 300 Spartans
Titanic
Troy
The Truman Show
Wild Things
You've Got Mail

ALEXANDER (November 29, 2004)

Alexander gets Stoned

Filmmaker Oliver Stone does not shy away from touchy subjects, often depicting material and points of view virtually guaranteed to alienate some viewers, please some viewers, and confuse other viewers (especially those ignorant of history). His latest production, the three-hour historical epic “Alexander,” is no exception. It has some faults, which some may find more serious than others, but it is worthwhile viewing for anyone interested in history. The young, charismatic, and ambitious king Alexander III of Macedon (known as Alexander the Great) was arguably the most influential personality in recorded history, certainly among the top five, and his sometimes-controversial impact on world civilization remains to this day. Loved and hated by many, he was both an idealistic visionary and a ruthless pragmatist. He was driven by a thirst for immortal glory, knowledge of the unknown, and uniting of diverse cultures, yet he was also given to violent fits of petty anger and brutal, uncompromising revenge.

It is only natural that Alexander’s short but eventful life be adapted into pop-culture entertainment, a tradition begun within the first century of his death several weeks before his 33rd birthday in 323 B.C. For well over a thousand years, a heavily fictionalized adventure novel inspired by various facts and legends surrounding Alexander was the most popular work of literature besides Homer’s “The Iliad” and “The Odyssey” and the Judeo-Christian Scriptures. This “Alexander Romance,” as it is often called, has survived in 24 different language translations with 80 different versions of the material included, some of it based in fact, much of it invented, some of it pure fantasy.

Stone’s film has some departures from recorded facts and leaves out a great deal that perhaps should have been included. On the whole, however, it is probably the most faithful movie interpretation on the subject to date. It does a certain amount of sanitizing for sensitive viewers, but is far more explicit in its violence and sexual attitudes than unprepared viewers might appreciate (and still doesn’t dare depict certain common ancient Greek customs—mainstream audiences just aren’t ready for nude athletic training, naked soldiers, or older men romancing adolescent boys). In fact, the film is like a capsule, three-hour undergraduate mini-course on Alexander that covers some of the major highlights but requires a certain amount of historical background to understand.

This is part of the film’s problem. It’s often more like a pageant dramatizing key selections from a history book than like a traditional Hollywood adventure movie. While interesting in themselves, the episodes don’t always come together as a cohesive plot in such a short time (even at three hours). The decision to place a major incident severely out of chronological order distracts from the flow and comprehension for anyone not already familiar with Alexander’s history, and the editing of the battle scenes gives more of a sense of the soldiers’ chaos than making sure the viewers can follow what’s happening. The vast material Stone tries to include would be more suitable for perhaps a twelve- to twenty-hour miniseries viewed in one to two-hour chunks than one highly condensed three-hour film. Stone’s “Alexander” nevertheless captures both the essence of the historical man with all his paradoxes, and a bit of the wistful hero-worship that grew to even greater proportions after his death. It begins and ends in the library at Alexandria, Egypt (although the city’s founding by Alexander is inexplicably not depicted), as the aged pharaoh Ptolemy, a former general and friend of Alexander, is dictating his memoirs. This places the story nicely if sketchily within its own historical context and helps explain why Alexander’s life is even being dramatized in the first place. However, it also reinforces the feeling that the audience is being lectured to, even if by such a distinguished actor as Anthony Hopkins in a small but impressive CGI recreation of the ancient world’s most important city.

The acting throughout the film is first-rate, with Colin Farrell as Alexander, Val Kilmer as his father Philip, Angelina Jolie as his mother Olympias, Jared Leto as his very close friend Haphaistion, Christopher Plummer as his teacher Aristotle, Rosario Dawson as his Sogdian (Uzbekestani) wife Roxane, and many more. Their tendency to verge on the intense is in keeping with the legendary status of the characters, and had another benefit. During the first two hours of the showing I attended, the frequent shouting matches and boisterous fighting also helped greatly to overpower the wails of a miserable infant whose thoughtless parents had dragged with them.

Some viewers have complained about an overt homosexual agenda by Stone, as well as the choice of actors and the Irish accents, obviously unaware that that the ancient Greek ruling classes generally practiced what today would be considered bisexuality, that Alexander actually was blond, that people of the Mediterranean, Middle East, and southwestern Asia display a wide variety of racial characteristics, and that all ancient historical figures do not speak English with a refined British accent. Since the prestigious accent in English is that of the London elite, it would make the most sense to have only Athenian Greeks speak that way, since their Attic dialect of the southeast peninsula was the one all Greek-speakers tried to imitate in their literature. Representing Macedonian Greek (a couple hundred miles north of Athens) as Irish-accented English makes perfect sense. A Russian-sounding accent for a native of one of the tribes in Eprius (across the mountains on the northwest side of Greece) is perhaps a bit odd, but reinforces the Macedonian attitude towards the exotic foreignness of Olympias. Physical racial features are a non-issue and a modern hang-up. The ancients may have been fiercely nationalistic with strong family, city, tribal, and class prejudices, but simply did not consider complexion or ethnic facial characteristics as any more relevant to a person’s character than eye color or hair color. The widespread intermarriages in those times (further encouraged by Alexander’s policies) could easily have produced people who resemble the modern-day actors playing them. Other viewers object to the showing Alexander’s death as a result of poisoning as unproven. This conspiracy theory (nothing unusual for Stone, after all) was current even at the time he died, although it is just as possible Alexander’s early demise was due to his heavy drinking bouts catching up to him or a disease picked up from swimming in contaminated water.

Overall, Oliver Stone’s “Alexander” is an ambitious and only slightly disappointing biography of the single most celebrated military conqueror of all times. Although it paints a generally admiring portrait, it shows him as complex, perhaps somewhat insane, and a dangerous, flawed genius. It is a valuable complement to the only previous major motion picture on his life, Robert Rossen’s “Alexander the Great” (1956).

ALEXANDER THE GREAT (November 29, 2004)

A different view from different sources

In 1955, the cycle of big-screen epics was in its heyday and noted filmmaker Robert Rossen (“All the King’s Men,” Body and Soul,” “The Hustler”) wrote, produced, and directed his own CinemaScope and stereophonic sound extravaganza based on Alexander’s career. Conveniently, this 1956 United Artists release has recently been issued on DVD, no doubt to capitalize on the theatrical release of Oliver Stone’s version.

Rossen’s film has a powerhouse international cast led by Richard Burton in the title role, with Fredric March as Philip, French actress Danielle Darrieux as Olympias, and Spanish actress Teres Del Rio as Roxane, Claire Bloom as Barsine (a character left out of Stone’s version), along with British stalwarts Peter Cushing, Harry Andrews, Stanley Baker, and Michael Hordern. Burton makes a memorably intense and troubled Alexander, although a bit stiff in some scenes, and March is excellent as his suspicious father. This film is an even more admiring portrait of Alexander than Stone’s, concentrating on his uneasy position between two ambitious parents and his subsequent campaign of conquest. It shows him fighting mainly against the Persians, but has greater emphasis than Stone’s film on his philosophy of spreading Greek civilization. It also prefers to follow the “Alexander Romance” over more historical accounts in certain details. One is the tradition of letters between Alexander and his mother and between him and Persian King Darius. Another is the persistent legend of Roxane being the daughter of Darius instead of a remote Bactrian noble from Sogdiana, something Stone gets right (but some viewers keep right on assuming she’s Darius’ daughter or at least Persian!). Rossen includes some of Alexander’s violent outbursts, but discretely avoids any implications of same-sex attractions and sanitizes most of the goings-on for 1950s tastes. Rossen’s large battle scenes, while easier to follow than Stone’s, lack much of the excitement, while the Darrieux’s Olympias is less colorful and more stereotyped than Jolie’s flamboyant character. The production is impressively mounted, however, if on a slightly smaller scale than Stone’s CGI-assisted settings and crowds.

The best thing about Rossen’s “Alexander the Great,” seeing it just before or after Stone’s “Alexander,” is that it includes so many historical incidents that Stone’s version omits, despite being about 45 minutes shorter. On the other hand, it leaves out a fair amount of things that Stone does cover (such as Alexander’s childhood) and chooses somewhat different and equally interesting interpretations of certain elements they both cover (such as Alexander’s murders of his friends and the deaths of both Philip and Alexander).

Released as one of MGM Home Entertainment’s $10 bargain discs, the DVD transfer of “Alexander the Great” has a sharp widescreen picture with good color. It preserves the film’s original 4-track stereo sound with some noticeable directional dialogue and sound effects, although the magnetic recordings seem to have suffered some audio degradation at times. The disc’s only bonus item is the original British theatrical trailer, and the inclusion of alternate French and Spanish-dubbed audio tracks and optional English, French, and Spanish subtitles.

AMAZING GRACE (March 27, 2007)

Amazing Grace preaches well, but to choir

“Amazing Grace” is another atypical character-centered movie for today’s mass-market multiplexes, even more so than “Reign Over Me.” Michael Apted’s film is a biographical study of an influential English politician in the late 1700s and early 1800s. The superb cast and high production values recreate the period in meticulous detail to tell the dramatic story of William Wilberforce’s long, painstaking struggle to outlaw slavery in the British Empire.

Ioan Gruffudd makes an effective Wilberforce, with Benedict Cumberbatch good as his close friend William Pitt, who became Prime Minister in 1783 when both were only 24 years old. Romola Garai is also quite good as the outspoken Barbara, who eventually becomes Wilberforce’s wife. Standouts, however, are Albert Finney, as ex-sea captain John Newton, tortured by the knowledge that he transported 20,000 Africans into slavery, and Michael Gambon as Lord Charles Fox, a member of Parliament who ultimately comes to agree with Wilberforce’s passion.

The film’s title comes from the famous hymn, which was written by Newton after he changed his ways. The film overall is a sincere and carefully crafted work, yet the script’s single-minded focus tends to make it come off as more of a sermon to the converted, a hagiography of Wilberforce, and a vividly dramatized lesson in British history more appropriate for a classroom than a commercial cinema. Its scenes of political debate and behind-the-scenes plotting may perhaps invite comparisons to more recent political activities concerned with different issues, but “Amazing Grace” remains strongly rooted in the decades surrounding the turn of the 18th to the 19th century. As such, it will likely appeal more to history buffs, students of social reform, and die-hard anglophiles than to the general public, despite the film’s superior production qualities and excellent performances.

AMERICAN BEAUTY (October 11, 1999)

American Beauty an American masterpiece

The critics are right. American Beauty could very well be the best movie of the year. The personalities and details of life in this tale of a suburban family’s meltdown make what first appear to be stereotypes ring with an unexpected depth and a truth of recognition. There were even smatterings of applause from time to time at last Sunday night’s showing in Grand Forks.

Kevin Spacey (The Ususal Suspects) is superb as the protagonist Lester Burnham, an average middle-aged, middle-class man struggling to get by, unappreciated by his employers as well as by wife and daughter. His pent-up frustrations lead him to deal with his mid-life crisis in a way that has the audience rooting for him, despite the fact (a la Sunset Boulevard) we know within the opening minutes that he will be killed by the end of the film. Few actors could make a character who does so many questionable things as likable as Spacey does. Annette Bening, likewise, is excellent as the domineering yet insecure workaholic wife Carolyn, and former child star Thora Birch is perfect in the Christina Ricci-like role of the moody teenage daughter Jane. Wes Bentley shows amazing control as Ricky Fitts, the unusual boy from the even more unusual family who moves in next door. And Mena Suvari brings a poignancy to her Angela, the sextease cheerleader friend of Jane who encourages the massive crush Lester develops on her.

The script by Alan Ball (who created and produced the new TV series, "Oh Grow Up") is a fascinating mix of predictability and surprises, leading the viewer to expect one thing while delivering several reversals that are nevertheless completely logical. These unanticipated developments are what turn the stereotypes into more complex, believable individuals. They even manage to build suspense towards the inevitable conclusion, since one is no longer certain what the various characters might be capable of doing. There are elements reminiscent of The Ice Storm, Blue Velvet, Falling Down, The Great Santini, and other relatively intense films. American Beauty is not really a mystery story, however, nor is it basically a heavy drama about dysfunctional families and a man’s murder. It is foremost a comedy—a very black comedy, yet one whose casual bitterness is balanced and finally superseded by a deep inner optimism. The irony of the conclusion is what gives the story its power, and also ties together different characters. Anything less would be a cop-out.

Director Sam Mendes, in his first film, turns what could easily be a story reliant upon its dialogue into a visual feast, with the aid of veteran cinematographer Conrad Hall. They use the wide screen beautifully to emphasize the character relationships, their distance from one another, as well as Ricky’s distance from the rest of the world, which he prefers to see through the viewfinder of a video camera. More than once Mendes has the camera placed looking through a window so we cannot hear what the characters are saying. The words themselves don’t matter at such times. We can see the attitudes and emotions through the skill of the actors, as in a silent film. American Beauty also uses sound in some interesting ways, and utilizes the digital stereophonic track’s directional capability for off-screen voices and music—something other films do not always take the time to do. In short, American Beauty is a timely satiric slice of American life, a knowing, maddening, touching, and entertaining tragicomedy that is a sure bet to be remembered when the Oscar nominations roll around. It is easily the best film this fall, and a completely different picture from such other strong contenders this year as The Sixth Sense, (still playing and well-worth a look if you haven’t seen it yet), An Ideal Husband, and Cookie’s Fortune. Don’t miss American Beauty on the big screen.

APOCALYPTO (Dec. 12, 2006)

‘Apocalypto’ blends action and allegory

The number one theatrical movie over last weekend was an action-packed adventure thriller, yet at the same time was a modest-budget ($40 million) period picture. “Apocalypto” is Mel Gibson’s fourth film as a director, obviously blending elements of his last two, “Passion of the Christ” and “Braveheart,” but also taking a somewhat different approach that recalls some of his movie roots. Instead of dramatizing specific historical characters and events, with “Apocalypto” Gibson painstakingly recreates life in ancient Mexico as a backdrop for an intense tale of survival and the power of the human spirit to endure against unfavorable odds. Simultaneously it is a carefully plotted mythic saga with prophecy, violence, retribution, and poetic justice, as well as serving as an all too timely political allegory and an ironic commentary on cycles of civilization. (It was Gibson, after all, who played postapocalyptic hero “Mad Max” and “The Road Warrior.”)

Cinematically it is a gripping tour de force of lush visual imagery and visceral editing that keeps the viewer involved in both the action (which is nearly non-stop) and the central characters’ personalities. The naturalistic performances by the largely nonprofessional Native American cast (including many ethnic Mayans) are just as critical in bringing the story to vivid life. The story begins as a tale of jungle villagers who live by hunting and warily deal with neighboring tribes, but who must still deal with small-town social pressures and good-natured teasing about family-related difficulties (i.e., lack of ability to produce one). Entertainment is playing with children and listening to revered elder storytellers around the fire. This opening sequence sets up the major characters and their way of life, only to be violently interrupted with an attack by a slave-raiding party from a nearby Mayan city. The invaders devastate the village, carry off the women for slaves, and capture the surviving men to use as bloody human sacrifices in the hopes of appeasing their gods. Our hero, Jaguar-Paw (Rudy Youngblood), manages to hide his pregnant wife and young son at the bottom of an empty well before he is captured. A series of colorful adventures, treading the fine line of preordained fate, dramatic coincidence, and personal force of will, eventually result in his escape from the Mayan city with his captors in hot pursuit. From here right up until the end, close to half of the 139-minute film, “Apocalypto” is a long, intense, and brilliantly sustained chase.

As a story, “Apocalypto” is a cross between “The Naked Prey” and “The Most Dangerous Game” but set in Central America of about 500-600 years ago. As a film, it is also a rare glimpse into a little-known era of American history before European contact, meticulously researched for authenticity. All dialogue is in the Yucatec dialect, the current-day descendent of the ancient Mayan language. The Mayans had an elaborate form of hieroglyphic writing (whose knowledge was lost for centuries and only deciphered within the past 30 years), advanced mathematics and astronomy, and one of the most accurate calendars ever developed. The height of their three thousand year culture was a half-millennium during the Dark Ages of Europe, and by the time of the European Renaissance the Mayan civilization was on the verge of collapse.

In a way it is frustrating not to see more exploration of the amazing Mayan sophistication, but Gibson wisely focuses on his main characters and their situation rather than wallowing self-indulgently in historical settings, props, and costumes like so many Hollywood epics. He shows mere hints of interesting parallel subplots (like the father-son relationships, the religious aristocracy) that if developed would work better for a TV miniseries than a single film. The brief episode in the Mayan city is tantalizing. But its noisy industrialized chaos and highly defined class distinctions make that much more effective a contrast to the simpler lives and more human/humane interaction of the villagers, who are thrown into this unfamiliar, rather ominous environment against their will.

It is notable that having ignored the historical use of ancient Greek for his film “Passion of the Christ,” Gibson chose a Greek title for his film about Mayan history. “Apocalypto” literally means “I uncover” or “I reveal,” besides its biblical connotations dealing with the end of the world. The film, of course, depicts the waning days of the Mayan world, its people living, loving, worshipping and killing in blissful ignorance of the impending invasion of European conquerors. And perhaps ominously, the film alludes to the ancient Mayan calendar, which, it turns out, predicts the end of the world for almost exactly six years from now – the winter solstice on December 21-22, 2012 in modern counting. Perhaps the film may inspire more popular interest in Mayan history and other pre-Columbian accomplishments, or the interesting mythology described in one of the few surviving Mayan books, the “Popol Vuh,” which is the Mayan story of creation and the earliest generations of people.

“Apocalypto” is not only a well-made film, an interesting anthropological artifact, and food for philosophical-political speculation, but is itself a revelation heralding the end of an era in motion picture production. It was photographed entirely on digital video using ultra-high resolution cameras that come closer than any so far to reproduce the look of traditional film. Ironically enough, this new model of electronic Panavision camera Gibson used to reveal his visual drama is called the “Genesis.”

AS GOOD AS IT GETS (Dec. 14, 1997)

Film title just might be prophetic of 97 releases

James L. Brooks’ new comedy-drama-romance opens Christmas Day. The lastest from the writer-producer-director responsible for Broadcast News and Terms of Endearment, among others (and he produced Jerry Maguire), stars Jack Nicholson, Helen Hunt, and Greg Kinnear in another wonderful piece of ensemble acting. Based on a script called "Old Friends," the final title may very well describe the film among the rest of this year’s offerings by major American studios--As Good As It Gets. (Well, OK, so Tri-Star is now owned by Sony, which is technically Japanese, but the film was made in America.)

The story is set in New York City, and brings together three characters of very different personalities, all beginning as casual acquaintences with their own personal problems and preconceptions. The relationships that form among the three grow into a deeper bond of appreciation and friendship that is rarely depicted on the screen. The same situation could easily have become just another TV sitcom plot padded out to theatrical feature length. In fact the film runs close to two and a half hours, but never seems to drag.

There are moments of overly cute comic schtick (when in doubt, dolly in to a closeup of the dog) and the abrasive personality of Nicholson’s character provide most of the laugh lines. For the most part, however, the characters are allowed to be genuinely human rather than stereotypes. They each have strong feelings about one particular thing, but otherwise are unsure of themselves, tentative about interacting with others, respectful of others’ feelings yet suspicious about their motives. And what other love story in recent memory does not feel obligated to have its couple fall into bed on (or off) screen? Brooks derives more dramatic and romantic energy between Nicholson and Hunt by having them almost on the verge of getting together a number of times until one (usually Nicholson) says exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time.

Nicholson’s character is a successful writer, who happens to have mental problems of obsessive-compulsive behavior and also tends to be antagonistic to other people on general principle. Underneath it all, however, he has a basic decency and concern he is almost afraid to show. It is an ideal Nicholson part and few actors could handle it as well.

Hunt is a waitress at a café Nicholson frequents, and the only employee who seems able to put up with his eccentricities. She has a young son with severe asthma but as a single mother (who lives with her own mother) cannot afford proper medical treatment for him. Finally Hunt has a major film role that allows her to use her acting talents. (Twister didn’t have a plot, so it doesn’t count. Besides, despite an appealing presence, there she seemed basically an extension of her Mad About You TV character, constantly spouting clever one-liners.)

Kinnear is a gay artist who has the apartment across the hall from Nicholson, and whose little dog constantly aggravates Nicholson. He is also intimidated by Nicholson’s blunt views of his lifestyle. Kinnear, too, has not been impressive on the screen before, but here projects both honesty and sensitivity. The lives of all three become more complicated and intertwined after Hunt’s son has such a severe attack she must remain home rather than coming to work, and a model hired by Kinnear off the streets brutally beats him while he and friends are trying to rob his apartment. Nicholson hires a doctor to pay a housecall on Hunt so she can again wait on his table, and is also reluctantly talked into taking care of Kinnear’s dog while he is in the hospital. The reactions of both to Nicholson’s unexpected generosity forms the basis of what follows.

Cuba Gooding, Jr., so wonderful in Jerry Maguire, is allowed a few good scenes as a gay art dealer friend of Kinnear, but mostly seems wasted here. Still, it’s nice to have really good actors in the smaller roles as well as the bigger ones (a notable feature of Francis Ford Coppola’s The Rainmaker). It is Gooding’s character who ultimately is responsible for arranging for the other three to take a road trip together, a trip which becomes a key section of the film.

As Good As It Gets may live up to its title, although with the December 31 deadline fast approaching this is traditionally the time for the release of many films their companies hope will receive Oscar nominations. A number of those, on the other hand, will not get wide distribution until well into 1998. For now, As Good As It Gets is one of the few pictures for commercial theatres that is both pleasant and intelligent.

THE BIG LEBOWSKI (March 14, 1997)

Coens take on bowling

Films by the Coen brothers are an acquired taste for many viewers. Their dry, dark sense of humor and off-kilter perspective on things endears them to their fans but can confuse and alienate a typical moviegoer.

Their latest picture, The Big Lebowski, is funnier and has even stranger characters than Fargo, the film that somehow became a mainstream hit and major Oscar contender. The Big Lebowski, however, is anything but mainstream entertainment. Many local audiences seem put off by the odd goings-on and find the story difficult to follow. It’s not really that hard to follow if you are prepared to expect the unexpected and understand that major characters range from psychotic and severely disturbed to nymphomaniac to pathologically lazy to merely dysfunctional and co-dependent.

So here’s basically what it’s about. This unemployed surfer-dude (Jeff Bridges) has the same name as a paralyzed middle-aged rich guy whose teenage wife has been piling up debts with a porno film producer (Ben Gazzara) and various shady characters. Two of those shady characters try to shake down The Dude for the money, not realizing they’re at the wrong house. The Dude’s best friend, a terminally annoying, screwed-up southern Californian Vietnam vet (John Goodman), convinces him to visit the real Lebowski and demand reimbursement for his damaged property. Then things get complicated. The wife turns up missing, believed to be kidnapped by a gang of German-speaking nihilists (including Fargo’s Peter Stormare), and to deliver the ransom Lebowski unwisely enlists the aid of The Dude, who unwisely allows his friend to become involved. Meanwhile, Lebowski’s avant-garde artist daughter (who is older than his wife) becomes somewhat enamored of The Dude and tries to set him straight on what is really going on. All along The Dude and his friends would rather be bowling and smoking pot, especially poor Donny (Steve Buscemi), as they are all entered in an upcoming bowling tournament.

At one point The Dude is drugged by the porno producer and has a bizarre musical dream about bowling and chorus girls that is one of the highlights of the film. Although the story is set in southern California, the Coens manage to incorporate an obligatory Minnesota gag. Needless to say, all of this could only happen in a Coen brothers film.

The Big Lebowski is the perfect alternative to TV sitcoms and the standard Hollywood studio formula comedies that glut theatre screens. It is definitely something different, so be prepared. Warning (for those who need it): the favorite word of several characters starts with "F."

BRINGING OUT THE DEAD (October 25, 1999)

HALLOWEEN it's not...

The new Martin Scorsese film Bringing Out the Dead, despite its title is not a Halloween type of film at all. Bringing Out the Dead is a moody, unsettling, slice-of-life covering a weekend in the world of a burnt-out paramedic. Nicholas Cage has one of his best roles as the central character who is starting to go insane from the stress of working night shifts on the seedy streets of New York City. Fascinating to watch from a stylistic standpoint—unusual camera angles, theatrical lighting techniques, chemically manipulated film for an unusual "look" to the image—it is also an interesting look into a character’s state of mind and the various philosophies of people who must cope with the hard life of inner city New York. It certainly wouldn’t inspire anyone to move there, although it is somewhat more upbeat than the Cage picture Leaving Las Vegas, which treats many similar themes.

Bringing Out the Dead is worth seeing, but has been getting mixed audience reactions. Unlike the popular ghost story The Sixth Sense, the main character here only thinks he sees dead people. Unlike the bitter protagonist of Fight Club, this bitter protagonist is struggling for redemption rather than mere catharsis. Unlike the attitude of American Beauty that life can change dramatically, one way or another, in Bringing Out the Dead the impression is that it simply goes on, one way or another. Strangely enough, despite its generally downbeat mood, it somehow seems less oppressive, less relentless than some of Scorsese’s other, more realistic street stories.

CHICAGO (February 3, 2003)

“My kind of film, 'Chicago' is...”

Finally going into a wide enough release this weekend to play in Grand Forks is the Golden Globe-winner for Best Picture (Musical or Comedy), Chicago. Choreographer and stage/TV director Rob Marshall makes a spectacular feature film directorial debut with this energetic adaptation of the 1970s Broadway musical that was itself adapted from a 1926 non-musical stage play by ex-court reporter Maurine Dallas Watkins, inspired by actual incidents of people exploiting each other and the media. Marshall’s flashy film will likely be a strong Oscar contender, and definitely deserves the awards for its editing, and at least nominations for its cinematography, music, art direction, costumes, and performances.

The late 1920s were the heyday of prohibition, gangsters, sleazy nightclubs, and rampant tabloid journalism. In this milieu, Roxie Hart, a small-time chorus girl who wants to be a star (Renée Zellweger), shoots her low-life boyfriend in a moment of passion and soon finds herself on death row with popular vaudeville headliner Velma Kelly (Catherine Zeta-Jones), who killed her two-timing sister/partner. Both engage slick lawyer Billy Flynn (Richard Gere) to get them off by playing on public sentiment and media publicity. Zellweger shines, but all give strong performances, as does Queen Latifah as mercenary jail matron “Mama,” John C. Reilly as Roxie’s long-suffering husband, Christine Baranski as the self-important “sob sister” reporter, and Taye Diggs and Lucy Liu in small but memorable parts.

The cynical dark comedy remains just as timely today with its tale of unrepentant murderers and a shyster lawyer who take advantage of the ever-insatiable public and media fascination with sordid scandals. It inspired an effective 1927 film version by Cecil B. DeMille and a somewhat watered-down but still funny William Wellman remake in 1942 starring Ginger Rogers, this time retitled “Roxie Hart” (whose title character Rogers and writer-producer Nunnally Johnson made more sympathetic than Phyllis Haver’s scheming 1927 portrayal). Now Zellweger makes the role of Roxie her own with a charming blend of victimized but guilty innocence that quickly evolves into hard-boiled pragmatism. Legendary stage director Bob Fosse turned “Chicago” into a hit musical in the mid-1970s (recently revived) but its theatricality resisted attempts to make a new film version until now. Like “Cabaret” and “All That Jazz,” the music of “Chicago” has a jazzy 1970s Broadway flavor, while creating a reasonable impression of the rhythms and chord changes used in the hot jazz of the 1920s.

The new movie version of “Chicago” successfully rethinks the genre of the movie musical to make it more acceptable to modern audiences who are unable to adjust to the artificial convention of characters singing their thoughts on screen. Instead of having the actors break into song in the middle of a scene, the songs are presented as stage performances, either actually taking place in a theatre or as fantasies in the imagination of the characters. (The film version of “Cabaret” used a similar approach.) The dazzling production numbers blend skillful choreography of the performers, the lights, the set, and the camera itself, all intensified by brilliant editing in time to the beat of the music. Rather than the highly stylized fantasy of last year’s “Moulin Rouge,” however, the more stage-oriented approach of “Chicago” looks realistic by comparison. The real world is always present and the songs are an extension of the characters’ thoughts while scenes are being played out. The film often intercuts from one to the other to make the distinction clear, and actually increases the momentum of the music in the process. The climactic courtroom sequence, which literally becomes a circus and shows how the lawyer can tap-dance his way out of a desperate situation, is a classic example of this, as is the powerful execution scene.

Surprisingly, for a film less than 50 years old, the major three stars in the dramatic leads are also able to do their own singing and dancing. Renée Zellweger, Catherine Zeta-Jones, and yes, even Richard Gere prove they have substantial vocal and terpsichorean talents. Although not as taxing as performing an entire stage show straight through, the song and dance numbers were generally shot a number of times in complete takes of over three minutes, using several cameras simultaneously from different angles. Thus most of the effects had to be achieved live during the numbers rather than added optically or digitally. (Digital effects were, however, crucial to recreating Chicago as it appeared around 1929.)

“Chicago,” like Baz Luhrmann’s “Moulin Rouge,” may not be to everybody’s taste, but it shows that the movie musical is far from a dead genre and can be restyled to appeal to a new generation (without alienating existing musical fans). The question is, will Hollywood sense a new trend and rush films of other stage musicals into production? Without the care and unique visions of a Luhrmann or Marshall, however, a glut of inferior musicals or a few big-budget failures would effectively bury the genre once again, as happened in 1929-30 until revived by 1933’s “42nd Street,” and again in the 1960s and 70s until “Moulin Rouge” in 2001.

CLICK (June 27, 2006)

‘Click’ sometimes does, sometimes doesn’t

Adam Sandler is a talented actor-comedian who seems torn between taking dramatic risks and rehashing proven formulas, between pursuing clever, intelligent, gentle humor deriving from genuine human emotion, and relying upon crude sexual and scatological gags, between trying something original and simply adapting classic movies by acknowledged masters to the present day and his own persona. He often winds up doing all at the same time, hoping it will click with audiences. “Click” is the perfect example of this apparent insecurity complex, with some sections guaranteed to please fans and turn off non-fans, and others that will court non-fans and either surprise fans with his versatility or lose them with his shift of gears. The preview trailers imply that the film is a wild comedy-fantasy about a man who manages to get a universal remote-control that will work on the world around him (his universe) instead of just electronic devices. It’s an interesting concept, but Sandler’s screenwriters soon turn the script from light slapstick in the typical Sandler vein into an often heavy-handed, tear-jerking sentimental drama that is a thinly disguised and unacknowledged remake of Frank Capra’s “It’s a Wonderful Life,” with perhaps just a bit of “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”

Of course remakes, admitted or otherwise, have become part of Sandler’s tradition. He revisited Capra four years ago, updating the original 1936 “Mr. Deeds Goes to Town” into the passable but watered-down imitation, “Mr. Deeds.” Just last year he officially remade the 1974 Robert Aldrich Burt Reynolds vehicle, “The Longest Yard.” Some of Sandler’s previous remakes, however, were less obvious to all but silent film buffs, who could immediately recognize that “Big Daddy” was really Charlie Chaplin’s “The Kid” (1921) and that “The Waterboy” was Harold Lloyd’s “The Freshman” (1925). Even movies like “Billy Madison” and “Happy Gilmore” drew on characterizations from silent comics Harry Langdon and Buster Keaton.

“Click,” on the other hand, hopes to be an inspiring didactic allegory about personal priorities and addictions (whether they be drugs or ambition), trying to hook the Sandler fans with his trademark crude humor at first, and then teach them a lesson as their hero literally works himself into a situation beyond his control. The comic potential of being able to freeze-frame, rewind, or fast-forward his real life gives way to the gradual realization that once he fast-forwards through the dull parts, he can never re-live the moments he missed. The first half of the movie sets up the drama with an emphasis on broad comedy, and the last half puts the main character into traumatic and extremely emotional situations calculated to touch viewers’ hearts.

The film’s split personality appears to anger a large number of Sandler fans while impressing many others (according to viewer responses on the imDb). There is less middle ground in audience reaction, and the “user rating” that hovers slightly above average (between 6 and 7 on a scale of 1 to 10) reflects the two extremes more than indicating a moderate approval. Actually, despite its faults the film has many good moments, getting better as it goes along and moves toward the dramatic. The supporting cast is very strong, especially Henry Winkler and Julie Kavner, who are excellent as Sandler’s parents at various ages (thanks to some impressive age manipulation by veteran makeup artist Rick Baker). One might like to see more of Kate Beckinsale as Sandler’s wife and Christopher Walken as the mysterious scientist/angel who changes his life, and there are many amusing turns by David Hasselhoff, Sean Astin, and Jennifer Coolidge.

Perhaps the film reflects Sandler’s own mid-life anxieties (he turns 40 this fall) and a desire to be taken seriously while not losing his fan base. There is no reason, other than convenient mass-marketing, that any film needs to be all comedy or all drama. However, if Sandler had eliminated the frequent sex gags (usually involving the family dog) and toned down the humor revolving around bodily functions, he might have had a much more appealing family film that could well have taken a place somewhere in the neighborhood of its Capra inspiration. Instead, he winds up with an interesting but fitful hybrid that may alienate both his core fans and parents who still can’t grasp the concept of either the “PG” or the “13” in the MPAA’s PG-13 rating.

THE DA VINCI CODE (May 30, 2006)

“DaVinci” demystified: code itself is the point

Well, the fuss seems to be dying down a bit, as well as the size of the crowds, so I finally made it out to see “The DaVinci Code.” Never having read the book, I did not have preconceived notions of how it should be filmed, and did not know ahead of time either the numerous unexpected plot twists that pop up every so often or whether the book gives more detailed and plausible explanations for some of the script’s frequent outlandish episodes.

Ron Howard’s movie is a fairly well-made pop thriller that relies on rapid changes of events to keep the audience focused on its two main characters, instead of stopping to realize how improbable the whole thing is, especially the catalytic opening incident that brings the main characters together. The structure of the plot is much like a computer adventure game that forces its players to solve one puzzle to get the clue for how to find another puzzle, and solve that one to find the next, and so forth, before finally discovering some sort of final “treasure,” all the while trying to evade various obstacles and enemies. The result (in the film, at least) is that there is only enough character development to further the action and mystery. Because the puzzle rather than logic is the main concern, this may not matter for many viewers. Indeed, the two main characters are a cryptologist and an expert at interpreting symbols. It’s essentially a story of various fanatics out either to kill, to protect, or to expose other fanatics, with two people caught in the middle trying to survive long enough to figure out why. Secret societies and conspiracy theories have long been popular topics in B-grade adventure stories, so all of the controversial material connected with this one comes off primarily as a calculated marketing hook to stir up interest in what would otherwise be just another mystery thriller.

The fast and loose way it makes selective use of and convenient distortion of historical “facts” relies upon the genuine fact that the general public has only a vague idea of anything that happened more than a few years ago, let alone a thousand or two thousand years ago. The encoded “clues” in DaVinci’s painting of “The Last Supper” call to mind the far-fetched mystical speculation over the Dallas-issued “Kennedy” dollar bills after JFK’s assassination. Nevertheless, the action and intrigue in “The DaVinci Code” move fast enough that while the film is going on it’s even possible to ignore how insignificant its central premise really would be if it were true in today’s world. The naïve may actually believe some of the claims made by the fictional characters in this work of narrative fiction, and fundamentalists insecure in their beliefs may condemn the film because of them and ignore the rest of it. However, the film’s indisputable basic truth comes in the line “as long as there has been one true God, there has been killing in his name.” And while the film does not mention it, this can apply equally to all three of today’s leading monotheistic religions.

The rest of the plot is a moderately interesting exercise in “what if” fantasizing, designed to tap into the tabloid-reading public’s craving for scandalous exposes about high-level cover-ups and conspiracies, specifically among famous historical figures and the Christian hierarchy in this case. What seems to fascinate many (and worry others) is the discussion of “lost” or “suppressed” books of the Bible, and this is where the film conveniently leaves out substantial information. Some of the early religious writings were indeed suppressed, but the “non-canonical” books were more often ignored and forgotten simply because they strayed so far from mainstream thought and beliefs. Many of the books alluded to have been readily available for the past half-century to anyone interested in searching them out (over a century for some of the books), and while sections may overlap and complement familiar passages of the New Testament, substantial parts of them (notably the recently rediscovered Gospel of Judas) tend to ramble off into esoteric philosophical, metaphysical, and ritual references that reflect Gnostic and other mythologies. The fascinating Gospel of Mary Magdalene, although missing several pages in its surviving copies, is more coherent than many, yet gives no explicit support for the theory that drives the plot of “The DaVinci Code.” The Gospel of Philip, apparently a work of a century or two later, is much more disjointed in its organization, and while it often veers from orthodox tradition, it likewise gives no unambiguous “proof” of the movie’s premise in the brief passages that even mention Mary Magdalene. The last verse of the Gospel of Thomas reiterates the apostle Peter’s constant annoyance at Mary Magdalene’s presence among the disciples, but ends with the odd statement by Jesus that she and any female who makes herself male will enter heaven--obviously a contradiction of the movie’s general attitude.

The greatest value that “The DaVinci Code” may have, is to inspire viewers to seek out some of the not-really-secret original sources for themselves, and perhaps learn what really did happen at the Council of Nicaea in 325 A.D. instead of the wild dogmatic claims one of the movie’s characters asserts. In the meantime, the film is still a passable action thriller to waste a couple of hours at.

FIGHT CLUB (October 18, 1999)

The first rule about "Fight Club"…
Don’t talk about "Fight Club" (unless the other person’s seen it)

"Fight Club" is yet another in a spate of movies lately with surprise twists that can easily be spoiled by talking about the plot in much detail (don’t worry, I won’t give anything away). "Sixth Sense" and "American Beauty" are other films you should try to see before anyone ruins their impact. I must admit that the prevue trailers for "Fight Club," especially the first "teaser" trailer that played with the latest Star Wars movie, were more inclined to make me avoid the film than see it. Then I found out it was directed by David Fincher ("Seven," "The Game," "Alien 3") and decided it might be worth a look. It is. It’s his most impressive film so far—much better than "The Game" and even surpassing his brilliant dark thriller "Seven"—yet it bears strong resemblances to both.

"Fight Club" is also nearly identical in its basic spirit to "American Beauty," but takes nearly an opposite approach in how the plot develops out of the initial premise. For one thing, we have Edward Norton as a thirtyish single yuppie in a dead-end white-collar job instead of Kevin Spacey as a fortyish married yuppie in a dead-end white-collar job. Both are sick and tired of the hypocritical, unfulfilling daily grind, but whereas Spacey’s character in "American Beauty" tries to turn his life around for the better no matter what anyone else thinks, Norton’s character in "Fight Club" grasps at any vicarious experience he can during his hours away from work merely to maintain a semblance of sanity. This ranges from attending death and disease support groups to starting the underground fist-fight club which quickly attracts a wide variety of disaffected wage slaves who hate their lives. Spacey’s character makes up his mind what he wants to do and decides to give up everything to do it, while Norton’s character never really knows he wants to do in the first place except that it’s not what he’s doing for a living.

"Mischief. Mayhem. Soap." The catchphrase promoting the film says it all (you’ll understand once you’ve seen it). The black comedy in "Fight Club" is rather less subtle than in "American Beauty," far more raw and far more bitter, yet its constant presence keeps the brutal story from becoming too overpowering until events in its protagonists’ unhappy life finally move completely out of his control. The ending may be a letdown for those who liked "American Beauty" or a relief for those who did not, but it remains even more ambiguous than "American Beauty." "Fight Club" is certainly a more disturbing movie overall, with an unglamorized yet ambivalent view of its anti-social ultra-violence that may remind some viewers of Kubrick’s "A Clockwork Orange." Along with a nearly omnipresent narration (usually voice-over but occasionally delivered directly to the camera), from time to time some spectacular digital effects give the viewer a fascinating subjective view of the character’s state of mind. The rest is done through effective editing and fine performances, especially by Norton with strong support from Brad Pitt and Helena Bonham Carter (and Meat Loaf, of all people). The only character we really get to understand much is Norton’s, whereas although Spacey is the central figure of "American Beauty" we nevertheless get vivid portraits of his family and neighbors. This is frustrating at times and tends to distance Norton’s character even further from the world he lives in, even though it is really part of the film’s basic plan. As a modern-day Jekyll and Hyde he knows he shouldn’t be leading his dual life. The initial exhilaration soon turns into misgivings but like Jekyll he becomes so fascinated with the dark life he has thrust himself into that cannot help himself after awhile.

As with "Sixth Sense" and "American Beauty" many may wish to see "Fight Club" a second or third time to catch more nuances and all the hints and foreshadowing of what will follow. It is hard to say it is better than "American Beauty," but "Fight Club" is certainly just as thought-provoking and much more intense an experience while it is happening. Like "American Beauty," "Fight Club" was filmed to use the full CinemaScope width of the screen, so it will suffer greatly on the small video screen. Be sure to see it with stereo sound, as well.

AN IDEAL HUSBAND (September 21, 1999)

Ideal movie seeks audience

Well better late than never. The film version of Oscar Wilde’s An Ideal Husband finally arrived in Grand Forks three months after its June release, and it was well-worth the wait. A more delightful film has yet to appear on movie screens this year, except possibly for Cookie’s Fortune (entirely different in tone but coincidentally also featuring Julianne Moore) and Shakespeare in Love (which was actually a 1998 release that never played here until Oscar time this year). Thoughtful, funny, beautifully acted, and attractively mounted, it may well earn more than one Academy Award nomination—yet attendance at the Columbia 4 Theatre was virtually nil. But then there are no car chases, gun battles, spectacular visual effects, or ghosts to grab the attention of the moviegoers.

Instead there are these rich people from a hundred years ago with British accents talking in a very civil way about things like honor and reputations and love, and they have this really dry and wittily sarcastic sense of humor that people actually have to pay attention to understand so it’s obviously far too boring for somebody like the Farreley brothers or Adam Sandler or Jim Carrey to ever dare to attempt (well, maybe Carrey might with the right script). For Anglophiles, on the other hand, An Ideal Husband is an ideal film, easily surpassing Emma and Remains of the Day, as much fun as A Room With a View and at least as good as if not better than Howard’s End and Sense and Sensibility. The verbal wit flying back and forth is chock-full of Wilde’s trademark cynicism (a main character’s motto is "to love one’s self is the beginning of a life-long romance"). However, this masks a deeper seriousness that comes out later as the plot complications thicken. Another line, directed at the title character and which turns out to be prophetic, goes "Did you do something wrong? I certainly hope you did, because people who do right all the time are so stuffy."

An Ideal Husband is a rare combination of a comedy of manners, poking fun at the conventions of Victorian England of 1895, and a moving character drama of human relationships with some touching insights into the limits of love and friendship. At any moment a twist of the plot could easily turn it into a poignant tragedy. Being a comedy, it naturally has a happy ending, yet at more than one point there are serious doubts about how exactly the various conflicts will be able to resolve. And something highly unusual for a comedy once it does resolve—the characters have all been forced to realize things they never thought they could accept, and are changed immeasurably by their experience.

All the actors are perfectly suited to their roles, bringing out a depth of character not immediately evident in the dialogue. Rupert Everett heads the cast as confirmed bachelor playboy Lord Arthur Goring, an antisocial socialite who discovers to his surprise that he has a suppressed sense of nobility. Jeremy Northam is fine as Sir Robert Chiltern, the title character who married the idealistic woman Goring also loved, and who is hiding a dark secret about his own past. Cate Blanchett is vulnerable and strong-headed as his wife whose trust in him is suddenly shattered by a revelation from Mrs. Laura Chevely (deviously played with a believable British accent by Julianne Moore), a woman with past ties to all three of them. Minnie Driver is also quite enjoyable as Chiltern’s sister who hopes to interest Goring in her.

Director Oliver Parker has made one of the best adaptations of Oscar Wilde on film. Throughout the film, Everett’s Lord Goring is more or less the voice of Wilde, his aphorisms wonderfully delivered. At one point there is a double in-joke, as the characters go to the theatre to see Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest, and Wilde himself appears on the stage after the performance. With the size of the audiences patronizing the Columbia 4’s engagement, An Ideal Husband will not play long on the big screen, but it is a film worth buying rather than renting when it inevitably comes out on home video. Either way it is a must-see for anyone who loves intelligent comedy or the English theatre.

KING ARTHUR (July 12, 2004)

Fun film, misleading history, revised myth

Jerry Bruckheimer’s latest summer action film, “King Arthur,” is everything a Hollywood summer action film needs to be, and even a little more. It has just enough plotline to spotlight an idealistic hero, a band of loyal sidekicks, a feisty female love interest (but not much romance), some large-scale battle sequences, and some impressive recreation of ancient history that almost gets things right and is closer than most films of its type.

This “King Arthur” is a rousing paean to independence and individual freedom worthy of Mel Gibson (although a few anti-Catholic overtones are perhaps an attempt to distance itself from such comparisons). There are some subtle political undercurrents that resonate in today’s world events, with its military men forced to fight in a foreign land for a cause they are not sure is worthwhile, and are then required by the government to fight again after their originally contracted tour of duty is finished. It may or may not be coincidence that Arthur’s knights are “Sarmatians,” members of a nomadic tribe believed to have originated in Iran. His band of knights are sort of the equivalent of a 5th century special forces unit who must deal with local terrorists and then unite with them to fight off invading foreigners.

Political and religious implications aside, the new “King Arthur” is a breath of fresh air in the cinematic depiction of the legendary hero. Clive Owen is a strong and passionate Arthur who exhibits the stoic sense of duty, the personal sense of justice, and the charisma to command the loyalty of his men and the respect of his enemies. Among his knights Ray Winstone stands out as the rough and ready Bors (who has so many illegitimate children he has to number them), with Ioan Gruffudd, Mads Mikkelsen, Joel Edgerton, and Hugh Dancy all appropriately intense as the much less prominently featured Lancelot, Tristan, Gawain, and Galahad. Keira Knightley’s Guinevere, far from the love-smitten stereotype, is a fiercely aggressive Celtic warrior for whom romance is more of an afterthought, but who has exactly what is needed to turn Arthur’s Roman ambitions back to his British roots. Stellan Skarsgård and Til Schweiger are brilliantly menacing Saxon cheiftans, the major source of conflict in the story.

A definite flaw in the film (besides its inevitable historical liberties) is that it almost appears to be a pilot episode of a series, introducing characters and situations it never gets around to getting back to. Foremost is that it starts as the story of Lancelot being taken as a boy to become a Roman legionnaire, but then quickly relegates him to the background after Arthur enters the scene 15 years later, treating Arthur’s youth much later in a brief flashback. Although it runs around two hours or so, it bears signs of extensive cutting of subplots and motivations that it assumes its audience can still piece together or will already be familiar with. Merlin (nicely played by Stephen Dillane) is all but eliminated from this plot. The love triangle with Guinevere is hinted at, and while it really belongs in another story, this angle might have been a bit further developed. The battle scenes (as well as the love scenes) have obviously suffered from censorship by Disney studio heads hoping for a blockbuster family film instead of a respectable (and bloody) adult epic.

King Arthur is one of the most beloved figures of English myth and legend, the subject of numerous works of literature over the past 1400 years and of American movies since at least 1920. A veritable cult of Arthurian fans exists, and one might expect them to be a large part of the target audience for this new film, but one would be wrong. The film retains enough references to its mythic sources to live up to its title (and gives an interesting re-thinking of the “sword in the stone” incident), but those looking for the Arthur they “know” would be better off renting John Boorman’s stylish “Excalibur,” the boring musical “Camelot,” or the hysterically irreverent “Monty Python and the Holy Grail.” Bruckheimer’s “King Arthur” is an admirable attempt to demystify and the legend and explore its source, while giving it a larger-than-life but reasonably believable (i.e. non-supernatural) mythic stature of its own. Basically, the magic is gone. This fact alone seems to be responsible for the widespread outcry against it, a reaction that is actually quite surprising in this 21st century day and age of reality TV, historical/political exposés, “truth behind the myth,” and “the rest of the story.”

The real King Arthur seems to have lived in the late fifth or sixth century. Here Bruckheimer takes some artistic license that most viewers will likely not notice, setting it instead about a century earlier, leading the audience to believe it is supposed to be 467 A.D., but including historical events and characters from roughly 50 years and more before that. The film’s historical prologue also falsely shows Romans marching under Christian banners in 300 A.D., when they would never have done such a thing until after the pagan Emperor Constantine attributed his vision of a cross in 311 to the Christian God’s support for his battle victory.

Arthur here is a Roman-British commander, but the fact is that Rome had already withdrawn its legions from Britain by 410, when Rome was sacked. Although Britons were left on their own, they continued to appeal to Rome for aid for another generation or two. The bishop Germanus who brings the discharge papers for Arthur’s knights was actually the Christian St. Germanus, sent to Britain to combat the influence of heretical British-born religious philosopher Pelagius in about 430 and 445. Pelagius himself was exiled from Rome and disappears from history around 418, but is believed to have died around 427, possibly in Egypt. The Pelagian controversy, ironically, has been in the news recently (in Grand Forks, at least), and might be worthy of its own film, as would be Germanus, who also happened to be the bishop that consecrated St. Patrick in 432. Setting “King Arthur” in this time, rather than the depths of the Dark Ages or the more popular medieval period, gives an added poignancy for anyone who can remember that the official Roman Empire would be gone in 476 A.D. and that the mainland European Angles and Saxons would eventually displace the Britons to achieve an equal identification with the island. What Bruckheimer and screenwriter David Franzoni have actually given us is more of a Hollywood version of the life of British leader Vortigern, throwing in the main elements of the Arthurian legend…but then marquees advertising “Vortigern” wouldn’t fill any seats at the theatres.

KISS OR KILL (April 12, 1998)

Take a road trip down under

If you are reading this Thursday, April 16, tonight is your last chance to see Kiss or Kill, the superior crime thriller from Australia that winds up the eight-title spring artfilm series at the Midco 10 in Grand Forks. Otherwise you’ll have to search it out when it’s released on video and it is well-worth searching out. Like many Australian pictures, Kiss or Kill is off-beat, quirky, and deals with the vast desert known as the outback. Unlike many, it is a psychological thriller that mixes mystery, suspense and dry comedy in a way that echoes the films of Alfred Hitchcock. It so impressed the Australian film industry that it took Best Picture at the Australian Academy Awards.

Nikki (Frances O’Connor) and Al (Matt Day) are young couple who make a living as con artists by having Nikki seduce rich businessmen and drug them, so the pair can rob them and take off before they wake up. One night one of these marks dies in his hotel room (accidentally or on purpose?) and the couple discover that he had been blackmailing a local sports celebrity with a pornographic videotape. They flee into the desert to avoid a murder charge, taking the tape with them, and are pursued by both the police and the frantic, ruthless ex-soccer star on the tape. Various people they meet up with meet untimely ends. Though the couple have never included murder among their petty crimes, each is not sure if the other is killing them or if someone else close on their trail is responsible. The tendency of Al to have a short, violent temper and of Nikki to sleepwalk during troubled dreams of her mother’s grisly murder years before gives them both reason to suspect each other. The audience can’t be sure if either, both, or neither is a killer.

The wonderfully crafted script ties together disparate, seemingly unrelated elements and minor characters, and keeps the audience guessing until the very end (with some viewers still unclear after the rapid resolution and unsettling last shot). The relationship between the two detectives is quite amusing, and almost the opposite of an American cop-buddy story. A scene when they are eating is particularly hilarious. The editing style, using numerous jump cuts, gives an edgy, nervous energy to scenes that would otherwise be straightforward. Writer-director Bill Bennett knows exactly how to handle his material. A movie like Wild Things may have its unexpected plot twists and characters who aren’t what they first seem, but the film still has a smooth, glossy Hollywood look. Kiss or Kill, on the other hand, has a rougher edge more suitable to its plot. In addition it presents a more intimate portrait of its central characters, yet keeps enough uncertainty that both they and the audience are unsure what they are really capable of. They are at once attractive, likable, nasty, and a bit frightening, yet still manage to have an underlying vulnerability--a highly unusual combination. Their complexity makes them far more human than typical movie protagonists, even the ambiguous anti-heroes who often populate film noir. Kiss or Kill is a must-see for any fan of movie thrillers. It’s a shame attendance rarely topped five persons per showing.

LOST IN SPACE (April 6, 1998)

Danger, Will Robinson…
Penny’s from heaven

The Star Trek movies proved that big-screen adaptations of 1960s sci-fi TV series could lure a substantial audience into theatres every couple of years, so perhaps the producers of Lost In Space hope for a similar reaction and long-lived franchise.

The new film Lost In Space has the look of a pilot movie, either for a new TV series or a series of theatrical sequels. It spends a great deal of time setting up socio-political conditions and character relationships without really developing any to much depth (something usually reserved for individual episodes). It spends a great deal of time luxuriating in the futuristic environment created by its art design and special effects crews. It spends a great deal of time (and time travel) trying to get through a plot whose entirety is summed up in its title. It spends way too much time on a cutesy little alien pet, crudely computer-generated and superimposed into superfluous scenes with live actors.

On the other hand, it does not give nearly enough screen time to the most interesting (and best-acted) characters in the story. Child genius and wise-cracker Will Robinson was the reason so many families tuned in to the original TV series. His role in the movie, while critical to the plot, becomes lost at times in the film’s attempt to establish the roles of everyone else (as a pilot episode might do). Jack Johnson gives the part the required energy and the sense while he is on screen that his character really is the most important in the movie.

Pushed even more into the background is sibling rival Penny, whose character in the film is decidedly more colorful than her television inspiration. Diminutive 15-year-old Lacey Chabert’s sulking and sneering sister brings the picture to life when she is allowed to be on screen. The story might easily have centered around her reaction to the family’s predicaments and her love-hate relationships with the other family members.

Chabert (previously known more for the TV series Party of Five and commercial/cartoon voice-over roles) and Johnson (grandson of screenwriter Nunnally Johnson in his first major film role) give the film the tongue-in-cheek sense of fun it should have had throughout its unnecessary length. The rest of the cast appear to take their parts too seriously. William Hurt and Mimi Rogers are solemn, concerned parents. Gary Oldman makes Dr. Smith into a genuinely obnoxious villain rather than the larger-than-life comic caricature of either the original series or his own wild performance in The Fifth Element. Heather Graham’s Judy and somebody named Matt LeBlanc (is he supposed to be a star somewhere?) as Major Don West are the half-hearted romantic interest, although there are undeveloped hints of something between Penny and the superjock. And the new robot looks more like a reworked droid from Robocop instead of the classic Forbidden Planet leftover used in the TV show (until Will tries to rebuild closer to that classic design).

Director Stephen Hopkins got far more excitement out of his Predator 2 and Judgement Night, and was much more impressive with his last film, The Ghost and the Darkness. All this is not to say the new Lost In Space is not entertaining. Despite its dragging, it is worth sitting through for science fiction fans. It has a few good scenes and a number of moments that should appeal to a broader audience. What it needs most is some judicious cutting, and possibly the restoration (if they exist) of more scenes featuring Lacey Chabert and Jack Johnson. With luck they will be the main characters of the sequel.

MR. DEEDS (July 1, 2002)

Good Deeds?
Well, not too bad, at least...

Okay--I decided I’d better go to the new version of “Mr. Deeds” just to see what Adam Sandler did to it. It wasn’t as bad as I was afraid of, but it wasn’t as good as I’d hoped. Sandler’s fans on the internet movie database are rather split on it (rating it 6.4 on a scale of 1 to 10), but the Grand Forks audience Sunday night seemed to enjoy it overall. The directing is so-so and the writing is uneven, both attempting to force the original Depression-era film to fit Sandler in today’s world, getting some good laughs in the process but simplifying the message. Perhaps Sandler assumes his fans need a simpler story and more obvious message than Frank Capra preferred to deliver.

Sandler has toned himself down a notch or two from his usual craziness, but has still adapted the classic Deeds character to his own persona. This is one of the film’s strong points as well as one of its weak points. He can actually do serious drama when he tries, and can pull off comedy that has a lighter touch when given the chance. Some of the film’s best portions are those that follow the original film most closely, but Sandler’s apparent need to pander to his fans with his usual schtick does not really let the audience grow to like his Deeds character in the same way viewers can feel for Gary Cooper’s Deeds. This flippant attitude fits Sandler’s personality but often gets in the way of effective plot motivations.

His relationship with his new butler (an hilarious supporting role for John Turturro) works wonderfully. On the other hand, it never quite seems believable that Winona Ryder’s scheming tabloid reporter would fall in love with this goofy small-town hick, no matter how generous he is with his money and friendly he is to strangers. It never seems plausible that Sandler’s carefree Deeds would actually have his feelings hurt by New York sophisticates. He just shouldn’t care what they think or say, whereas Cooper’s Deeds had an emotional vulnerability that leads both the audience and the reporter to feel for him.

The editor-reporter boss-employee relationship in this version is also far less genial, which distances the viewer more from the situation. Ryder’s desperation to do the assignment to save her job (instead of a simple desire for a raise and vacation) seems calculated to give her more sympathy from the start, but instead merely makes her change of heart less dramatic. Even though she begins the film as cynical as Jean Arthur’s “Babe Bennett,” Ryder’s character is less in control of her life and career than Arthur’s (even though this is 2002 instead of 1936!).

Other plot changes from the original weaken the motivations as well, and turn the ending into an easy, if rather far-fetched sentimental cliché instead of the powerful emotional climax that the original builds up to. The fewer characters and shorter running time may tighten up the pacing (the original does drag in a few spots) but the eliminations from the story dilute the film’s impact while retaining its heavy-handed social preaching. Oddly, the subplot in the original about covering up accounting irregularities is completely gone, and as it turns out it would have made the remake even more up to date with current headlines! Bad call there by the producers.

Peter Gallagher is a pretty standard and stereotyped money-hungry corporate villain, but Allen Covert as his sidekick has some amusing variations with great line readings and reactions (even though he can never quite replace Lionel Stander). Conchata Ferrell also has some good scenes as Jan, Deeds’ old friend from his pizza shop back home, notably when she gets into a knock-down, drag-out fight with Winona Ryder (which is also one of Ryder’s better scenes). Steve Buscemi is amusing but wasted as the even more bizarre eccentric than what he usually plays (see “Ghost World” if you haven’t already, for Buscemi at his best).

All that said, there are enough funny bits in Sandler’s “Mr. Deeds” (especially by minor and supporting characters) to entertain a crowd, and probably just enough feeling for the original story to qualify as a passable remake. Everyone who sees the film (and also those who don’t) would do well to go out and rent or buy the 1936 Frank Capra “Mr. Deeds Goes to Town,” which may not be perfect, but is far superior. The difference is comparable to savoring the work of a seasoned professional who often broke new ground as opposed to appreciating the efforts a reasonably talented amateur who prefers to revise the work of others.

MOULIN ROUGE (June 4, 2001)

'Red Mill' is alive, with the sound of music...

Broadway stage musicals may be more popular than ever, but the movie musical has been pretty much a dead genre since the 1960s, with the exception of animated cartoon features. Australian director Baz Luhrmann’s vibrant, flamboyant “Moulin Rouge” could change all that. Luhrmann’s 2001 “Moulin Rouge” bears virtually no relation to John Huston’s 1952 film of the same title (a colorful biographical drama about artist Toulouse-Lautrec), although it is set (more or less) in that famous Parisian nightclub of 1900 and it does feature Toulouse-Lautrec as a character (played to the hilt by an almost unrecognizable John Leguizamo). This “Moulin Rouge” is a celebration of music and songs as both entertainment and as a form of expressing emotion-particularly emotions in the area of romantic melodrama. It is operatic in its approach, and in fact the plot is a loose blending of the popular operas “La Boheme” and “La Traviata,” but its songs are an anachronistic yet inspired pastiche of popular music (especially love songs) from the last half of the 20th century.

The incongruity of Parisian Bohemians from a century ago singing songs ranging from “The Sound of Music” and “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend” to “Like a Virgin” and “Smells Like Teen Spirit” looks annoyingly self-conscious and just plain odd when seen in excerpts (and notably such scenes were carefully left out of the preview trailer, which doesn’t even seem to hint that the film is a musical). However, in the context of the whole movie they actually work perfectly. Luhrmann is a master at creating a fantasy world from some parallel universe-his debut film, the 1992 musical “Strictly Ballroom,” is a delightfully goofy caricature of the world of ballroom dancing competition. His most popular film, “William Shakespeare’s Romeo + Juliet,” successfully transfers Shakespeare’s original dialogue into an opulent, not-quite-real world of 1990s urban crime families and gang violence. “Moulin Rouge” depicts an imaginary Paris that might appear in a dream, and can only exist through the medium of the motion picture.

From the opening scenes until the closing credits, the film is a widescreen, stereophonic, visual extravaganza, a “Spectacular-Spectacular” (like the name of the show the story’s main characters are performing at the Moulin Rouge). The screen starts in total darkness, fading in on a stage with closed curtain and a tiny figure of a conductor in front. He raises his hands, the curtain parts, and the 20th Century Fox logo is projected behind him as he conducts the fanfare, leading into an overture of musical themes that will recur later. Then the main theme song of the movie, a haunting rendition of the Nat King Cole classic “Nature Boy,” leads us into the story proper.

Ewan McGregor plays Christian, a young writer who joins the carefree Bohemian artistic subculture of Paris, where he falls in love with popular Moulin Rouge performer and prostitute Satine (Nicole Kidman). She, however, is lusted after by a wealthy duke (Richard Roxburgh), whom her employer (Jim Broadbent) urges her to entertain so he’ll invest in his theatre and her career-and meanwhile she is slowly dying of consumption! Naturally the plot of the show within the show corresponds closely to all the backstage romantic intrigues.

Elaborate sets, costumes, and computer visual effects, gaudy colors and extreme camera angles, along with exaggerated performances of gleefully stereotyped characters and clichéd plot elements never let us forget this is a fantasy and a fairy tale. The inherent realism of photography and the cinema’s tendency toward natural (or simulated) locations may be a reason audiences as a whole have lost their taste for the jarring artificiality inherent in musical drama on film (and may be why the same audiences accept it in the stylized world of live theatre or animated cartoons). Luhrmann’s world in “Moulin Rouge” is so stylized that somehow it seems natural that characters should break into song every so often. Near the beginning a green fairy materializes briefly (deriving from the Nyquil-like drink, Absinthe), flitting and flirting like Tinkerbell from “Walt Disney’s Wonderful World of Color.” Flashy, intricate camera moves are often reminiscent of videogame virtual reality but within an atmospheric setting more like a classic silent movie. The film is a lovingly crafted studio-bound creation that is the exact opposite of certain independent filmmakers’ dogma about strict realism, simple basic techniques, and no special effects. Things are at their most outlandish during the first part of “Moulin Rouge.” Perhaps the most comparable example in a recent movie might be the bizarre Busby Berkeley-inspired bowling fantasy sequence in “The Big Lebowski.” Once the plot begins to develop, Luhrmann concentrates more on the romance, melodrama, and clever integration of pre-existing love lyrics into the dialogue and songs into the story. (Part of the fun is trying to recognize all the songs included.)

“Moulin Rouge” is an affectionate tribute to the 20th century, to love songs, to popular entertainment, and to the capabilities of movie magic. So far, it is the most satisfying (and re-watchable) movie released this summer.

MULLHOLLAND DRIVE (November 17, 2001)

A drive through the dark...

Director David Lynch’s latest film, “Mulholland Drive,” has already won him the “Best Director” award at the 2001 Cannes Film Festival and was the centerpiece of this year’s New York Film Festival. Now in limited theatrical release, “Mulholland Drive” is spellbinding Lynch’s devoted fans and bewildering unsuspecting moviegoers who are not familiar with his peculiar dark humor and distinctive, unusual style of storytelling. Its run in Grand Forks was largely ignored by the public, resulting in the print being pulled after one week when “Harry Potter” inundated theatre screens. Area viewers get another chance to see “Mulholland Drive,” as this weekend it opens at the Fargo Theatre. The film is a must-see for fans of Lynch and of off-beat, thought-provoking cinema.

As far back as 1916, psychologist Hugo Münsterberg recognized that motion pictures were a visual representation comparable to the way we dream. Experimental filmmakers have frequently tried to make cinematic equivalents to dreams. Perhaps no mainstream movie director (if he can even be labeled “mainstream”) has exploited film’s dreamlike qualities in telling narrative stories as much as Lynch. It is not giving away too much of the film’s surprises to say that this aspect of his films is critical to making sense of “Mulholland Drive.”

A word of warning-do NOT read the “user comments” about the film on the Internet Movie Data Base before you have seen it! The sometimes conflicting and controversial analyses might aid in coming to your own conclusions about the plot, but too many of them will spoil any sense of surprise and discovery (and some of them are simply confused, anyway). While “Mulholland Drive” is the kind of film that may well require repeated viewings for full comprehension, it can never recapture the same impact as that first viewing when you don’t know what’s really going on.

“Mulholland Drive” is not quite as bizarre and enigmatic as “Lost Highway,” but it does tend to make “Blue Velvet” look like a routine Hollywood mystery-thriller. With each film, and during the course of his TV series “Twin Peaks,” Lynch seems to stretch the bounds of what is accessible to his audience. He can take a standard, formula plot and present it in a way that constantly keeps the viewer uncertain as to what will happen next (or even what has already happened). The major roles are powerfully acted by relative unknowns Naomi Watts, Laura Harring, and Justin Theroux. Some familiar faces and in-jokes come from nicely incorporated cameos by the likes of Ann Miller, Billy Ray Cyrus (!), Chad Everett, Robert Forster, Dan Hedaya, and even the film’s composer Angelo Badalamenti (as a gangster-type).

Typically for Lynch, the film contrasts good and evil, high life and low life, light and dark, reality and artifice. Imagery and sounds often take precedence over easy-to-follow narrative coherence. Originally intended as a TV pilot for a never-realized series, the story involves a wide variety of characters in Hollywood-a hopeful young actress, movie stars and directors and industry types, detectives, crime bosses, hit men, waitresses, etc.-with a wide variety of plot lines that occasionally intersect and overlap. Much of the action deals with an amnesia victim (Harring) and the young woman who wants to help her (Watts). Relationships between all these gradually start to become more clear about two hours into the 146-minute (and definitely R-rated) theatrical version. By the last 10 or 15 minutes it should not be too difficult to figure out-although it may take some reflection after it is over to put it all together. This, of course, is not the way to please a mass audience accustomed to having everything spelled out. It is, on the other hand, exactly what Lynch’s fans expect. “Blue Velvet” remains arguably David Lynch’s masterpiece, but “Mulholland Drive” is a welcome new addition to his impressive list of credits.

THE MUMMY (May 11, 1999)

Mummy Dearest

Old-fashioned action-adventure with a light touch of romance, a heavy dose of comedy, and spectacular computer-generated special effects have proven once more to be a box office attraction. Universal Pictures’ remake of their 1932 classic horror film The Mummy takes a completely different approach from its first incarnation. The original was slow, serious, moody, and hypnotic, its action and modest special effects reserved for the final scene. This remake is virtually non-stop action. Set in the early 1920s, it follows the tongue-in-cheek retro pattern that was repopularized by Raiders of the Lost Ark and the other Indiana Jones movies. It also does it bigger and better, even if the comic shtick verges on the ridiculous at times (library shelves conveniently arranged to fall like a row of dominos?). The Mummy is faster-paced, funnier, and has more elaborate special effects than the Indiana Jones movies. A risky but nice touch for such a big-budget movie is the lack of any major stars, except up and coming Brendan Fraser—who will now be a much bigger star, thanks to the huge success of this movie. Pretty Rachel Weisz’a plucky Egyptophile librarian may give her the same kind of career boost that Kate Winslett got from Titanic. Arnold Vosloo in the title role doesn’t say much, but has a strong, often eerie presence that will definitely get him noticed by other filmmakers.

The 1999 version of The Mummy is not really a horror film for the most part. In fact, it is only partly a remake of the original 1932 The Mummy, which itself was just an imaginative reworking of the 1931 Dracula. After an opening pre-title sequence set in ancient Egypt (which parallels a flashback in The Mummy) most of the story is a close remake of the 1969 Gregory Peck-Omar Sharif western MacKenna’s Gold, which followed a band of adventurers on a long (very long) search across the desert for a lost canyon of gold hidden in a sacred Indian mountain, guarded by Apache warriors. This time they are looking for a Pharaoh’s fabulous gold treasures, buried in a legendary lost city of the dead, guarded by descendants of the Pharaoh’s bodyguards. The only major plot element missing is a rival romantic interest counterpart to Julie Newmar’s character and her nude swimming scene (darn!), but if you’ve seen MacKenna’s Gold you’ll recognize most of The Mummy. There’s even a band of American cowboys in on the treasure hunt to strengthen the parallels, and one of them drops his glasses and loses his eyes, in ways combining the Burgess Meredith and Edward G. Robinson characters of that film.

When they finally reach the underground treasure house, the plot of the original mummy movies takes over, as our overenthusiastic heroine accidentally raises the mummy from the dead by reciting a certain spell over his tomb. Like previous mummy stories, the maniacal mummy was an Egyptian high priest buried alive for daring to love the wrong woman 3000 years ago, and now he wants to reincarnate his long-lost love by making a human sacrifice of the beautiful heroine. Naturally, the hero doesn’t want this to happen. This title character is much less sympathetic that Boris Karloff’s version. He often comes off as a movie monster closer to one of the raptors in Jurassic Park, especially since he is a digital character for much of the picture. Nevertheless, Vosloo gets across a tragic dignity that gives a credible motivation to his actions usually missing in monster movies. The movie’s general attitude blends the thrills with light-hearted adventure melodrama. It never takes itself too seriously, but the campiness is done with genuine affection rather than simply poking fun at the genre. It was evidently done by people who know and love old movies enough to recreate as many favorite scenes as possible in an Egyptian setting. Besides other mummy movies, you’ll see touches of Lawrence of Arabia, The Ten Commandments, Jason and the Argonauts, Night of the Living Dead, Hellraiser, Carrie, The Exorcist, and countless others. Part of the fun is trying to recognize what movie a certain shot or scene is copying.

As for its historical accuracy, there is plenty to make anyone familiar with Egyptology chuckle and/or cringe at the mistakes, changes, and anachronisms, yet it does a reasonably acceptable job of presenting the Egyptian atmosphere. The digitally-created sets in the opening sequence are fascinating, even if they are mis-identified as Thebes, a city over 300 miles south of the pyramids and sphinx. The hieroglyphic inscriptions appear authentic rather than the illiterate scribbles used in most low-budget Egypt movies. The long-dead ancient Egyptian spoken language was reconstructed by a scholar, the same person responsible for the Egyptian used in Stargate. With any luck, the movie could spark renewed public interest in ancient Egypt, the source of civilization and many supposedly modern concepts for much of the world. (And forget Anakin Skywalker, I want my Mummy action figures!) Even in its sold-out opening weekend, there were a number of repeat customers. People anticipating horror and thrills found the movie was much more fun than they expected. As with most movies of this type, half the fun is seeing it with a receptive crowd on the huge wide screen with the digital surround sound. The Mummy is certainly a film I plan to see again and to buy on video

THE MUMMY RETURNS (May 8, 2001)

‘Mummy’ dearest

Both the strengths and weaknesses of “The Mummy Returns” lie in its tendency to take the most popular elements of “The Mummy” and work them into a new story while elaborating upon them with even more spectacular digital visual effects. The results are definitely spectacular, action-packed, and entertaining, but the filmmakers sacrifice a good deal of plot clarity and character development in favor of more and more action and effects scenes. And those scenes not only seem to run on longer than necessary, but often seem arbitrarily added, as if from another story altogether (a propeller-driven hot-air balloon with rockets??), simply to show off the increasingly impressive capabilities of digital technology. The supernatural elements have proliferated exponentially. A mummy or two rising from the dead is one thing, perfectly understandable—but why thousands and why pygmies, and what’s with the magically appearing pyramid and oasis and armies of jackal-like soldiers of Anubis? Exciting and campy fun it may be, but it just gets a bit much. Another problem is the trendy injection of Chinese-inspired martial arts scenes (can we say “Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon”?) into the plot. There are some occasional nice, even touching moments between various characters, but they’re not allowed to interact long or often enough for the viewer to connect with them on some emotional level. Instead, the film relies on what we remember from their relationships in the previous movie. Also helping bridge plot gaps are the performances—the strong screen chemistry between gorgeous but spunky Rachel Weisz (as Evie) and impetuous but hunky Brendan Fraser (as Rick), the powerful presence of Arnold Vosloo (as Imhotep) and Oded Fehr (as Ardeth Bey), and the high melodrama of vampy Patricia Velazquez (whose character Ankh-Su-n-Amun was rather sympathetic in the first film but has now become a scheming super-villainess).

It actually looks at times as if scenes might have been filmed that would explain some things, but were deleted to keep the running time in the two-hour range. It would be nice to know, for instance, just how Princes Ankh-Su-n-Amun could be reincarnated in a modern girl while her spirit remained in the land of the dead, just when Rick obtained that distinctive and large wrist tattoo, and why Evie is suddenly having dreams of ancient Egypt she hadn’t had previously. It might also help to get to know Rick and Evie’s precocious son Alex (Freddie Boath) a little better. It’s like writer-director Stephen Sommers is changing the story as he goes along and making up new mythology to go with it, but then only had time to include a few excerpts from the story line to bridge the chases, fights, and special effects sequences. Perhaps we’ll find out when the DVD hits the shelves (no doubt by Christmas). And of course there are rumors that the film’s prologue may spawn its own separate movie starring Dwayne Johnson (aka “The Rock”) in a prequel about the adventures of the Scorpion King, a backstory central to the plot but only sketchily depicted at the beginning of “The Mummy Returns.”

Both of Sommers’ “Mummy” movies appear to have been strongly influenced by the mystery adventure novels of Elizabeth Peters, which feature sleuthing Egyptologist Amelia Peabody—who in the first book meets and falls for irascible professor Emerson, is married by the second book, and has a precocious son by the fourth novel. The latest in this delightful series, “Lord of the Silent,” just hit bookshelves last week, and is everything a good sequel should be, bringing back old friends but able to stand on its own with none of the faults or supernatural excesses of “The Mummy Returns.” The film would have been better had it imitated the somewhat exaggerated but very realistically grounded Amelia Peabody stories more closely. In fact one of the annoying aspects of “The Mummy Returns” is the plot’s sudden betrayal of the Evelyn character’s serious historical concern for careful scientific methods, merely to get a quick laugh. Stephen Sommers’ “The Mummy” was a huge hit because it combined appealing characters with tongue-in-cheek adventure, and always had believable goals and motivation. “The Mummy Returns” is enjoyable when approached as old-time Saturday matinee action-adventure formula with a comic book level of stereotyped characters whose only motives are to rule, destroy, or save the world. It’s fun for what it is, but it could have been so much better if it had only taken time to let the characters live a little.

MY GIANT (April 12, 1998)

Giant misunderstanding by public

Comedian Billy Crystal was one of the best parts of the Academy Awards telecast last month. His performance in the new movie, My Giant, is largely responsible for making the potentially oversentimental material both pleasant and entertaining. My Giant is somewhat of a rarity these days (Titanic was another) in that it’s a film that can be enjoyed by audiences with a wide range of ages and backgrounds. Unfortunately it is not reaching much of the target audience of the general public from roughly junior high school age and up. The title and the PG rating, have falsely implied to a majority of parents (who never did comprehend what the ratings system means) that it is a children’s film. The PG rating does not and never did mean a film was for children. (Neither does the G rating, for that matter. Was 2001: a space odyssey a kiddie movie? Was Gone With the Wind?)

My Giant is NOT a film made for children. Children under age 10 or 11 should not be allowed to attend it unless they are mature for their age, and certainly not without an adult supervisor willing to keep them under control. The crowds of small children dropped off at My Giant do not understand most of it and are bored by a great deal of it. The few dozen adults in the audience have a harder time hearing the dialog and paying attention with all the children talking and running up and down the aisles.

The story of My Giant focuses on a Hollywood agent (Billy Crystal) fallen on hard times. He is separated from his wife and son, he is down to one client (an egotistical child actor on location in Romania), and that client is about to fire him to find someone better for his career. Understandably upset, he accidentally drives his rental car into a river in the Romanian forest, is miraculously rescued and taken to a monastery. There he discovers the man who rescued him is about eight feet tall, is named Max (Gheorge Muresan), and has a long-lost love who left for America 20 years ago. The agent is grateful to this genial giant for having saved his life, but soon realizes the giant could be the beginning of his Hollywood comeback, convincing him that appearing in movies would earn his ticket to America and fame would win the love of his old girlfriend.

The rest of the film has the unlikely pair trying to overcome various obstacles and reach their respective goals, the savvy and cynical agent trying to introduce the naïve giant to American culture. In the process of his own exploitation of his new friend, the agent grows very protective of him, trying to shield him from even worse exploitation and from the bitter realities of life. The inherent mercenary streak of Crystal’s character provides much of the humor (aided by Crystal’s always right-on delivery of various one-liners). Then it starts to clash with his basic decency, and the character comes to learn his true priorities and the meaning of friendship. This latter portion of the film could have become sickeningly heartwarming and sweet in lesser hands, but the script (by Crystal with David Seltzer) has enough realistic touches to avoid becoming heavy-handed. The performances of Crystal, Muresan, and Kathleen Quinlan as Crystal’s wife are honest and believable throughout. My Giant may not win any awards, but it’s an enjoyable comedy-drama with a good balance of cynicism and sentiment, and not overpowered by either.

NATURAL BORN KILLERS (August 27, 1994)

NATURAL BORN KILLER ENTERTAINMENT

Oliver Stone's latest film, Natural Born Killers, is a natural born candidate for "Best Picture" nominee in next spring's Academy Award competition. It is the most impressive American film since David Lynch's off-beat, disturbing masterpiece, Blue Velvet, although it is more in the spirit of his Wild at Heart. It certainly is Stone's most daring and most effective picture to date, and joins Born on the Fourth of July, The Doors, and Salvador as one of his best films. A dark, biting satire, Natural Born Killers does not appear to be designed for broad audience appeal. With its avant-garde, experimental filmmaking techniques it does not even seem to be the mainstream major studio release that the television ads might lead many movie-goers to expect.

Straightforward, dramatic story-telling, it definitely is not. Instead, we see an unusual (for your typical multiplex theatre), very intense, personal cinematic statement on the direction American life and media-shaped culture is headed, if indeed it has not already arrived there. It is not like any film Stone has ever done, and is far superior to his self-indulgent, overblown, JFK. In fact, in many ways Natural Born Killers is more reminiscent of David Lynch than any earlier works of Stone, or any other director, for that matter. Not since Lynch's Wild at Heart has a major studio release had such a bizarre and vibrant depiction of violence and love. Stone actually goes Lynch one better in his black comedy, linking those elements inextricably with the mass media's exploitation of them and America's insatiable appetite for that very exploitation. At the same time he graphically depicts the ancient wisdom that all beings (including human beings) act according to their natures, despite psychologists' (and audience members') hopes and expectations.

The story, briefly, follows the lives of a young couple who love each other and love killing anyone who stands in the way of their security and happiness. Unlike Blue Velvet, which brought out the unsettling duality of human nature in its protagonist, Natural Born Killers presents its leading characters as just what its title states. Mickey and Mallory enjoy the ultimate in American freedom. They follow their natures doing whatever they feel like doing whenever they feel like doing it, no matter what it may lead to. Woody Harrelson and Juliette Lewis are perfect as the cold-blooded couple to whom death is just another inevitable part of their life. Not completely immoral (they marry each other early in the film, albeit in a private, ad hoc ceremony) and not completely amoral (Lewis' Mallory denounces Harrelson's Mickey for an uncalled-for, unnecessary killing), the pair ultimately become folk heroes via all the media exposure they receive. Robert Downey, Jr. demonstrates his broad range of character acting in his flamboyant portrayal of a tabloid TV producer-host with an Australian accent. Tommy Lee Jones, as usual, is completely at home in his part as a vindictive prison warden. Unexpectedly, comic Rodney Dangerfield turns in a bitterly sarcastic portrayal as Mallory's crude and violent father.

Stone's filmmaking style in Natural Born Killers is as audacious as the over-the-edge story he is telling. The relentless use of unusual camera angles, the constant intercutting of standard 35mm color film scenes with black-and-white film, videotaped shots, and grainy Super 8 footage, the surrealistic superimposed background scenes--all have a compelling, exhilarating effect that matches the wild story. Imagine a two-hour long MTV-type music video with the music in the background and with a plot line and character development that keeps your eyes riveted to the screen. Fans of "Headbangers' Ball" might find themselves right at home. Filmgoers whose tastes lean towards "I Love Lucy" reruns or Whitney Houston love ballads will probably be shocked. Natural Born Killers is not a film for everyone. Like Blue Velvet, Wild at Heart, and Naked Lunch, (or a generation ago the films A Clockwork Orange and Bonnie and Clyde), it will be either loved or hated. Like those films, it is a perverse comedy that will likely catch average movie fans off-guard. Filmgoers who see it with an open mind (and prepared for something out of the ordinary) will discover a cinematic treasure island in the sea of bland mediocrity the formula-happy Hollywood system has been providing lately.

O BROTHER, WHERE ART THOU? (February 5, 2001)

Tell me, amuse, a many-mannered movie...
(Odysseus, where art thou?)

The latest Coen brothers film, the one that has been making “Top 10” lists all over the country and is sure to be a strong Oscar contender, has finally arrived in Fargo and Grand Forks. “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” lives up to its advance reputation as one of the best pictures of 2000, and easily joins “Fargo,” “Miller’s Crossing,” and others, among the Coens’ best works.

“O Brother, Where Art Thou?” is a comedy, its very title an amusing in-joke to film buffs. It is the same title as the film that a popular director of comedies wanted to make as his first serious social drama in the Preston Sturges satire “Sullivan’s Travels.” In that film Joel McCrea plays a disillusioned Hollywood director who decides to travel across the country as a hobo to get a feel for making a movie with redeeming social value instead of just the silly comedies he cranks out for the studio.

The Coen Brothers’ “O Brother Where Art Thou” picks up on this theme by setting the story during the Depression and following a long trek of three down-and-out men (escaped convicts in this case) across the state of Mississippi in 1937. A couple of incidents from “Sullivan’s Travels” find their way into the film, but the Coens state in an opening title that their story is adapted from Homer’s epic poem “The Odyssey.” They also admit in an interview that they’ve never read “The Odyssey.”

Nevertheless, both the basic premise of a man’s long journey home after an extended time away, and a number of individual episodes are “inspired by”/ “borrowed” from/“stolen” from “The Odyssey.” Viewers with even a moderate familiarity with Homer’s adventure will recognize a blind seer, seductive sirens, a man turned into an animal, a monstrous one-eyed giant, and even a character named Homer. And of course, the central character played by George Clooney is named Ulysses Everett McGill. (“Ulysses” is ancient Latin transliteration of the original Greek “Odysseus,” the Romans like the English evidently unable to pronounce the Greek name.) You’d half expect the plunder that Clooney keeps talking about would have been from Troy, Michigan, but the film doesn’t go quite that far.

The film’s resemblance to both “The Odyssey” and “Sullivan’s Travels” is primarily an amusing gimmick. One could also identify a few close parallels with “Deliverance” and various other stories. “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” is a typically quirky Coen brothers comedy from beginning to end. That is to say, it is very different material from their previous films yet is full of the same sort of off-beat characters (and actors), in-jokes, and weird sense of humor they are noted for. You can always expect the unexpected in a Coen brothers movie.

“O Brother, Where Art Thou?” is a prison break picture, it’s a journey picture, it’s a social commentary, it’s a musical, it’s a comedy, and it’s generally a great time at the movies. George Clooney’s Ulysses is the most intelligent of three men on a Mississippi chain gang (the others being Tim Blake Nelson and Coen brothers favorite John Turturro). He tries to lead the little band to freedom with the promise of shares in a huge stash of money, but basically he just wants to get home to his estranged wife (Holly Hunter)-who is named Penny rather than Penelope, incidentally. Along the way they get mixed up with a political campaign for governor, a group of born-again Christians being baptized in the river, a mercenary Bible salesman (John Goodman), a young black blues guitarist named Tommy Johnson (Chris Thomas King) who claims to have sold his soul to the devil at the crossroad, a blind radio station recording engineer, a late-night Ku Klux Klan rally, and a massive flood (standing in for Charybdis?), among other things.

It is not necessary to understand all the allusions to enjoy “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” but each one you catch makes the film that much more entertaining. The movie stands on its own as a funny tale, with some brief serious elements, about characters that are easy to get to care about as the story progresses. Clooney’s sly, self-confident rogue is perfectly balanced by the simple-minded sincerity of his two comrades played by Nelson and Turturro. At times all of them are innocents easily victimized by people out to take advantage of them, yet their unsophisticated sense of loyalty manages to fit into the overall scheme of things, helping them out of difficult situations and sometimes unintentionally setting in motion events of poetic justice. Like their other films, this one pokes fun at human frailty, stereotypes, overbearing personalities, and greed. Describing the film in much detail would spoil many of the surprises that make it so much fun. “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” is a movie well-worth seeing more than once.

ONCE UPON A TIME IN MEXICO (September 16, 2003)

Once upon a time in moviemaking...

I spent most of last weekend transferring digital video to my computer hard disk and editing. I completed the five and a half minute music video for Sons of Poseidon’s song “Success Through Violence,” intercutting shots of the band in concert with them performing on one of the “Dark Highways” outdoor movie locations, clips from “Dark Highways,” a dream subplot shot just for the video, and a few classic film clips. I also got some editing done on the feature, and now have the first 19 minutes (out of an estimated 110) completed and scored in roughcut form.

All did not go smoothly with my computer, however, and to give it a brief rest between crashes and reboots, I went out to see the first movie in a theatre I’ve seen since last spring. It was as much for research purposes as entertainment, however, as the film I saw was written, directed, produced, production designed, photographed, edited, and music scored by one person, using his own equipment, based out of his home. It was also shot and edited on digital video (albeit high-definition video) before being transferred to film.

“Once Upon a Time in Mexico” is the latest project from enthusiastic auteur Robert Rodriquez, the “wonderchild” who suddenly shot to fame and earned a fortune, but continues to insist on making his movies his own way, outside of Hollywood. In fact, he works from his hometown of Austin, Texas as much as possible. Both the October issue of “Premiere” magazine and the summer issue of “MovieMaker” spotlight his rebellious approach to filmmaking. His outspoken attitude is calculated to inspire anyone with the desire simply to go out and make movies rather than wait for Hollywood deals.

Rodriguez came to public attention about a decade ago, after a feature he shot on 16mm film for $7,000 was bought by Columbia Pictures, blown up to 35mm, and distributed theatrically to respectable audience and critical acclaim. The film was “El Mariachi,” and inspired a low-budget studio-backed sequel called “Desperado.” It had major stars like Antonio Banderas and Salma Hayek, and cost a thousand times the production expenses of the original but was still a tenth of what a major Hollywood production typically cost. Then he went on to do “From Dusk to Dawn,” “The Faculty,” and three “Spy Kids” movies before returning to his roots once more.

Completing the trilogy he started with “El Mariachi,” “Once Upon a Time in Mexico” might almost be a demonstration film for hi-def video production. It is laden with rich color, deep contrasts, and sharp widescreen cinematography to show off the process. To appeal to audiences, it is crammed with lots of comic book style action (with ultra fast-paced editing), ample dark humor, and numerous characters in an unexpectedly convoluted plot. In a few shots, the color seems to have a slightly oversaturated video look, and it still doesn’t quite reproduce the contrast range of light to dark that film-originated images can capture, but overall, and certainly at quick glance, it is not easy to tell it was shot on video rather than film (the $100,000 state-of-the-art camera probably helped!).

As for the movie’s entertainment value, it succeeds in being an enjoyable action picture while perhaps being overly ambitious in the number of plot threads and characters it weaves together in only 101 minutes. Antonio Banderas is back as the legendary singing hit man El Mariachi, now a recluse, but out for revenge on the crime boss who murdered his wife (Salma Hayek) and daughter. Hayek, unfortunately, is seen only in a few flashbacks, but still gets in a lot of action, including a restaging of one of the key stunts from the original “El Mariachi” (a leap onto a moving bus).

Johnny Depp is the real star of the movie, playing a cynical and dangerously eccentric CIA operative who convinces Banderas to kill his old nemesis. The catch is, he is to allow the crime kingpin to assassinate the president of Mexico before making sure he cannot seize power himself. Naturally there are quite a few complications along the way, including a retired FBI agent (Rubén Blades), a beautiful Mexican police officer with a secret (Eva Mendes), and plenty of scheming villains of various levels of sleaziness (Willem Dafoe, Mickey Rourke, Danny Trejo, Cheech Marin, and others). There are so many characters and complications and hints of other elaborate subplots, that it looks as if much more footage was shot than made it into the finished film.

The plot takes the age-old themes of revenge, good vs. evil, crime and punishment, working them into the social-political context of modern Mexican culture. The flashbacks of the El Mariachi character, especially those during the story related by Cheech Marin at the beginning, present a legendary fantasy of an invincible hero. Rodriguez gives a Mexican face to long-time clichés of the American (and Italian “Spaghetti”) Western antihero, the Japanese samurai, and the Hong Kong martial arts master.

For the main story, Rodriguez contrasts the wealthy druglords and their casual violence with the average citizens who have come to take it all for granted but someday may be pushed too far. He depicts a tradition of well-meaning but unstable governments, military coups, and ongoing covert U.S. drug enforcement operations that follow their own private rules. In addition, he works mariachi music into the plot (naturally), as well as the Mexican festivities for the “Day of the Dead.”

“Once Upon a Time In Mexico” is a slick, good-looking action movie whose strengths outbalance its weaknesses. It manages to be both a personal vision and mainstream entertainment. It should at least serve as an inspiration to independent filmmakers who want to do it all themselves.

THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST (March 2, 2004)

The Gospel according to Mel

Mel Gibson’s “The Passion of the Christ” has already set attendance records in the first five days of its release. A large percentage of its viewers have found the film to be a moving experience, sometimes unexpectedly so. Others continue to criticize if not outright scorn the film for a variety of reasons, some understandable, some arguable, and some highly suspect.

While far from a perfect film, Gibson the screenwriter and director has obviously mastered Hollywood’s cinematic techniques for wringing raw emotion from his material. His own passion for his film comes through from beginning to end, along with a sense of meticulous control over the setting, actors, photography, and editing. His worthy effort is aided greatly by the evocative cinematography of Caleb Deschanel (who photographed “The Black Stallion” and “Being There,” among others, and was Oscar-nominated for “The Right Stuff” and “The Natural”).

Perhaps the strongest impression one takes away from the film is the intensity of conviction and single-minded purpose anyone would have to have in order to submit willingly to such pain. This is emphasized all that much more through the eyes of those helpless witnesses to his ordeal: his mother, Mary Magdalene, and John, who stay by him to the bitter end, and various bystanders along the way. The performances by the entire cast are strong, but Maia Morgenstern as Mary and Monica Bellucci as Magdalene stand out in roles that call for almost no dialogue.

The opening scenes have a heavily stylized, studio look to them, with artful beams of moonlight piercing the blue night in the garden where Jesus is last tempted to give up his mission. Here Gibson tends to become a bit overwrought with his symbolic special effects, with frequent use of slow motion and shots of a spooky, androgynous Satan with some computer-generated satanic-looking accoutrements. The earthquake at the moment of the death of Jesus is also shown with a bit more Hollywood-style elaboration, with the Jewish temple cracking in two rather than merely the temple veil as related in the Gospels.

After Judas betrays Jesus and the Judean soldiers arrest him, the film takes on a more realistic treatment for the most part, interspersed occasionally with subjective camera angles and flashbacks. The film is undeniably and graphically violent in its depiction of torture and crucifixion, at the time a common and expected treatment for prisoners. Without such a vivid recreation, pretty much the entire point of the film would be lost.

If Gibson’s film could be identified as “anti” anything, it would be anti-torture. Squeamish American or western European viewers may well be unaware of reports of equally common, if not worse atrocities still going on around the world today. Gibson’s “The Passion of the Christ” certainly cannot be considered anti-Semitic by any rational person. It can only be viewed as an incitement to anti-Semitic feeling by people who are already strongly anti-Semitic to begin with or by people with a severe case of paranoia.

The film clearly shows the arrest and persecution of Jesus as a political conspiracy by an elite segment of the religious hierarchy. One of the Sanhedrin is even shown questioning the motivation for the proceedings and refusing to participate. These high priests would as easily condemn any one of their own they might see as a potential threat to their way of life.

Gibson’s choice to focus on such a short period of time and limited number of central characters naturally leaves out a great deal of the motivation and buildup to the climactic event he portrays. The film assumes its viewers are already reasonably familiar with the Gospel narrative and can fill in the story’s exposition and development from memory with occasional hints from the brief flashbacks. In fact for anyone with no basic knowledge of the Gospels the film will be a confusing slice of life with little if any recognizable cause-effect relationships. Although there are a few interesting glimpses into lives of Judas, Kephas (Peter), and Pilate and his wife, most of it follows the brutal experiences of Yashua (Jesus) through that fateful Thursday night and Friday.

Rather than a traditional narrative, this film is a portrait of feelings and emotions, even if it presents no motivations. The actors’ intense performances and the film’s painstaking detailed recreation of its times are responsible for a large part of its impact. Where Gibson falters historically, however, is in his use of languages from the period, a fault that contradicts his reasoning for shooting the movie in the authentic languages.

The Judeans speak Aramaic, as they should, and sometimes Hebrew, and the Romans speak Latin, as one would expect. Pilate and some of the soldiers are shown speaking Aramaic to the Judeans and some of the high priests and Jesus speak Latin to him. At this time, however, the common language of the Mediterranean world was Greek (the very language the Gospels were originally written in). Though each might have known a few words and phrases of the other’s language, they would have communicated with each other using Greek. Educated Romans even spoke to each other in Greek rather than the “vulgate” - the vulgar language of Latin used by the lower classes. It wasn’t until the fourth century A.D. that the Bible was given an authorized Latin translation.

And the Latin that Mel Gibson has his actors speak is not even the classical Latin as pronounced by the ancient Romans of the Augustan Empire, but the medieval Church Latin kept alive by the Church of Rome with a heavy modern Italian accent. The sign posted on the cross in the movie is written only in Latin and Hebrew, whereas the Gospels of Luke and John both specifically record that it was in Greek, Latin, and Hebrew. It might also have been nice if the film somewhere had found a way to explain that “the Christ” means literally “the anointed one” (again in Greek).

Admittedly, monolingual viewers are not likely to notice or be distracted by the wrong languages or dialects, and most will probably know the story well enough that the superimposed subtitles are not really necessary to follow the action. Who knows -- it might inspire more interest in learning Latin and Aramaic (which as far as I could tell, sounds extremely close to modern Arabic).

Mel Gibson’s “The Passion of the Christ” remains an admirable effort and an impressive independent feature film. It should inspire deeper thought afterwards than typical multiplex movie fare. It may even inspire a few to seek out previous versions for comparison, such as the pioneering classics "The Life and Passion of Jesus Christ" (1902/05) and "From the Manger to the Cross" (1912) that I mentioned in last week’s column, or perhaps even Martin Scorsese’s flawed but interesting and equally powerful “The Last Temptation of Christ.” Whatever one’s personal faith, the underlying story has influenced the world for two millennia and has served as inspiration for artists, believers, and nonbelievers ever since.

THE PRINCE OF EGYPT (December 20, 1998)

If I Were a Pharaoh

Moses is back on the big screen and this time he’s not Charlton Heston. One of the holiday season’s big Hollywood releases is the new Dreamworks SKG Studios (that’s Spielberg-Katzenberg-Geffen) musical cartoon remake of Cecil B. DeMille’s The Ten Commandments, retitled The Prince of Egypt.After seeing the prevue trailer with its melodramatic and Sunday schoolish film clips combined with the top-40 pop-rock theme song that’s been getting media hype lately, I was prepared to be unimpressed. The actual movie, however, turned out to be much better than I expected.

The all-star cast of voices is fine, including Val Kilmer, Ralph Fiennes, Patrick Stewart, Michelle Pfeiffer, and Sandra Bullock. But the film’s real attractions are its artwork, its music, and a couple of unexpected scripting touches. The animation, a blend of traditional cel painting with computer-assisted three-dimensional perspectives, is superb. The first several minutes of the story are all sung rather than spoken, as if the entire film is going to be an opera. Shots and music blend together as in a fine silent film, with no need for additional dialogue until the main plot threads start to develop. In this context the often exaggerated Delsarte-style gestures of the characters seem more appropriate. The songs by Stephen Schwartz (who wrote Godspell, among other shows) fit the story perfectly, making it basically a Broadway musical done in animation--Fiddler on the Pyramid, maybe? The main songs and arrangements are certainly far better than the closing credit numbers sung by Whitney Huston, Maria Carey and Boyz 2 Men. Those performances seem aimed strictly at marketing albums. Much of the film’s imagery is copied directly from DeMille’s 1956 production, and its story line is more a reworking of DeMille than of the book of Exodus itself, and omitting the same material and adding the same new elements invented by DeMille’s screenwriters. Its focus is somewhat different, however. The Prince of Egypt introduces a stronger character relationship between Moses and Ramses, having them grow up as brothers who are also close friends rather than rivals from the start. This makes the story much more interesting and even touching at times, and the two become for the first time believable men instead of icons. With Kilmer providing the voices of both Moses and God, it is an easy step to associate a divine calling with personal conscience and deep inner conviction. It’s a far cry from the simple picturization of Biblical narratives so common in "educational" religious productions.

Like the DeMille film, it also tries to be reasonably accurate in its depiction of ancient Egypt, although there are a few archaeological problems and anachronisms. For one thing there are several shots showing the religious symbols of the "heretic" monotheistic Pharaoh Akhenaten, which are from nearly a century before the time the s