Print this articleIn the day of political correctness, it's nice to see a movie that bucks such a trend while still having something smart to say. Towelhead, from American Beauty writer Alan Ball, is an unconventional drama/almost-comedy about race and sex in the early 1990's. Set in Texas during the first Gulf War, Towelhead revolves around Jasira (Summer Bishil), a 13-year old Lebanese-American girl who is beginning to find herself sexually. Though her father (Peter Macdissi) is also American, he has a strict view of what's proper and a harsh form of love. This, coupled with the fact that Jasira has discovered how to give herself orgasms, leads to a variety of awkward-to-bad situations, including a relationship with a black boy (Eugene Jones) her father disapproves of and a few run-ins with her much older next door neighbor, played by Aaron Eckhart. Maria Bello and Toni Collette also star.
Towelhead is an exploration of sex and racism, though I can't say I'm quite sure what the intent of the story is. Nonetheless, the movie is an intriguing and entertaining picture - albeit a disturbing one - that touches on subjects rarely seen in a major film. From female masturbation to rape of a minor, teenage sex and more, Ball doesn't hold back many punches, which is not surprising since he is, after all, the guy who wrote American Beauty (granted, Towelhead is based on a book by Alicia Erian). The movie is well-written, albeit in an unconventional way, and the result is a slow-boil picture that gets better over time. It takes a little getting used to, as many of the scenes are rather blunt and it's not quite clear whether you should be disturbed or laughing at any given time. I was expecting more of a comedy than what Towelhead actually is, but Ball slips in some dark humor from time to time. Ultimately, the movie is as funny as you want it to be, as some of the most serious moments are also the funniest.
The real strength comes from the actors, who all deliver terrific performances. Twenty-year old Bishil has the tough role of headlining a film with bigger actors than her and playing a 13-year old girl who in one way is completely innocent to the world yet is naively aware of her sexual power over men. Her performance is a strong one, as she manages to create a character who is both a victim and instigator of the many situations that occur. Macdissi is also very strong as her overbearing father, a man who must consciously make the effort to come off as nice. His performance is probably the strongest of the group. Eckhart, meanwhile, plays sleazy very well, and manages to do so in a way where we still feel some compassion for him at the end. Collette also delivers a quality performance.
Towelhead is not without its flaws, however. While never slow, a few scenes could have been snipped here and there to cut the running time. The first act takes a little getting used to, as previously mentioned, and there are a few scenes that could have been smoothed over a bit. Of course, it doesn't help that the movie is going to be compared to American Beauty, due to the strong involvement of Alan Ball and its suburban, sexually charged setting. This comparison may not be fair, but the movies are similar enough in tone and energy that Ball makes it hard to avoid. Unfortunately, Ball is no Sam Mendes, and Towelhead feels a bit plain at times. It works for this picture, but I didn't see anything too impressive here.
Nonetheless, Towelhead is an engaging and entertaining drama with quality writing and directing. It may not be good enough to qualify for the Oscars come March, but it is one of the better movies of 2008.
Review by Nathan Samdahl (B)
Eagle Eye, director D.J. Caruso’s follow up to the successful Disturbia, delivers on most of the promise seen in its entertaining, but overplayed trailer. A cross between The Game and 2001: A Space Odyssey (in concept, not execution), the film unravels at a fast pace as the prolific Shia LeBeouf and the sexy Michelle Monaghan become increasingly entwined in a deadly game neither of them can win. Strong supporting performances by Billy Bob Thornton, Rosario Dawson and the Shield’s Michael Chiklis help ground the plot, which at times, despite being consistently exciting, is a bit ludicrous.
While certain elements of the film concerning the omnipresent reach of the antagonist are a bit hard to swallow, Eagle Eye is a wild ride with a strong twist that changes the whole landscape of the film. However, for me, the twist, while being essential to the overall story, diminished my interest in the movie. This is perhaps because after this point the mystery of the movie is almost completely gone and the film changes gears to follow a more WarGames plotline, which in face of past films (such as WarGames), felt a bit derivative.
The visuals in Eagle Eye are fairly strong. The action scenes and special effects are big and in your face, better than most, but not unique in the same way as scenes in summer fare such as The Dark Knight or Wanted. However, the speed at which the action scenes unfold help greatly to cleverly cover up some of the sizeable plot holes that in retrospect keep the film from reaching a higher plateau of action films.
Eagle Eye is a very enjoyable movie, perhaps because or despite the film’s quintessential Hollywood approach-big, loud, over-the-top, filled with big stars and non-stop until the end. Shia LaBeouf is engaging as usual even though his ever witty rebel approach does not really show a new side to him after similar roles in Transformers, Indiana Jones, and well just about every other Shia LaBeouf movie. Probably not to go down in the annals of great Hollywood films, Eagle Eye does have potential to be a big draw at the box-office and in the face of rather weak competition (even though I am sure Miracle at St. Anne will be a better film), is your best bet for a thrill this weekend.
Review by Alice Graves
I used to think that Woody Allen could do no wrong. When I lived in New York I went to see each new movie on opening night. I stood out in the freezing rain to see "Hannah and Her Sisters" but it was worth it. I came away from that movie renewed, inspired, and optimistic about the possibilities of love and life. It was his most uncynical film.
Allen's early films were howlers aimed at a college-educated (preferably in comparative literature), urban audience. Like "Love and Death," his hysterical historical movie about a plot to assassinate Napoleon with references to philosophy, literature and the Marx Brothers. Thirty-three years later, it is a classic.
I even liked "Hollywood Ending," his own Hollywood ending of sorts. In it he conjured Sophocles by creating the role of the film director who becomes hysterically blind and can't see the movie he is making. It's hilarious but it has essence. It has something to tell the audience. The movies coming out of Hollywood are not worth seeing. In the end, the Allen character moves to Paris, where his work (like that of Jerry Lewis) is appreciated.
Allen made two more films in the US before leaving for London, where he made Hitchcockian thrillers "Match Point" and "Cassandra's Dream," with "Scoop" thrown in the middle for a comic breather.
And then on to the Continent.
As much as I hate to say this, I was disappointed in "Vicky Christina Barcelona." I loved the city of Barcelona used as a backdrop. I am ready to move there. But the characters were shallow and the story was murky. The character with the most depth, who we barely saw enough of, was the American expatriate Judy, played by Patricia Clarkson. She is simply unforgettable as a woman who knows the score, and her scenes made the movie worth seeing. Scarlett Johansson is beautiful to look at, as are Javier Bardem, Rebecca Hall and Penelope Cruz, but their characters were all one-dimensional.
Maybe Allen is trying to tell us that Americans are gullible and know nothing about love. But Bardem and Cruz, so passionately and violently in love, are not convincing either. Yes, their love inspires them to create art, but is art love or is it merely art?
Allen is brilliant at making his locations a character in his films, and his actors are lovely to look at. I even thought Bardem was sort of cute as the psycho killer in "No Country for Old Men," but I'll take that one up with my shrink.
If you're wavering on whether or not to see "Vicky Christina Barcelona," I say see it, because it's Woody Allen which makes it better than most of the tripe on multiplex screens these days. But don't expect the Woody Allen who made "Annie Hall" or "Take the Money and Run" and don't expect to roll in the aisles howling with laughter, your giant cola spurting through your nostrils. Woody Allen, like a fine wine, has mellowed. Just inhale and sip.
Last year, the Coen Brothers finally found their maker when they won several Oscars for the stirring film No Country for Old Men. One of the best movies of 2007, though in my opinion not the best, No Country seems to have propelled Joel and Ethan to a new level of a popularity. In other words, the Coen brothers could make Disaster Movie and people would have lined up in droves. Thankfully, they decided to put their brains together for more original fare, like the idiotic comedy-thriller Burn After Reading.
Burn After Reading is a clever movie about how a job firing and divorce proceeding leads to a comedy of errors that gets the CIA involved, relationships destroyed and people dead. Too bad the Coen brothers, even with their renewed popularity, couldn't get any big names into their film. All the dual directors could muster up was Frances McDormand, John Malkovich, Tilda Swinton, Brad Pitt and George Clooney.
Without giving too much of the plot away, the movie is about a couple of idiotic fitness club employees (McDormand and Pitt) who stumble across a CD that contains what they believe to be top secret spy information. While the files do belong to a CIA analyst (Malkovich), they aren't nearly as important as first expected - but that doesn't stop them from starting a cat-and-mouse game between the CIA, the Russians, and a variety of people that "all seem to be sleeping with each other."
As with most Coen brother comedies, Burn After Reading is at times inconsistent. There are stretches where things aren't all that funny, but the directors are more concerned about the overall effect of the movie rather than the hilariousness of each little scene. While not perfect, Burn After Reading does seem to be the movie the Coens set out to make. It has its laughs, it has a lot of weird characters and a goofy plot that most writers could only dream of pulling off. And, unlike No Country, it has an ending that wraps everything up all nice and neat.
What really makes Burn After Reading is the actors, though. While Swinton really doesn't get much to do, the rest of the leading cast - and some smaller members as well - really pull out all the stops. McDormand, a Coen brothers regular, is great. Malkovich, while not quite up to Philip Seymour Hoffman's performance in Charlie Wilson's War, also plays the eccentric spy quite well. The real stars, though, are Pitt and Clooney, both of whom turn in pitch-perfect performances. Pitt's exuberant, bumbling character is classic; from his hairdo to his zany mannerisms, this is one of his most memorable performances to date. As for Clooney, how many other actors could pull off a womanizing yet socially awkward government employee with nervously twitching eyes and paranoid delusions? Clooney has always excelled in playing the smart-idiot (another Coen brothers movie comes to mind), and he has done it again here.
David Rasche and J.K. Simmons also turn in great, memorable performances as two not-overly concerned CIA agents. In fact, their comedic timing is so perfect that their few scenes are some of the best of the movie.
Burn After Reading is an enjoyable and funny film if you like offbeat, quirky comedies, though at 96 minutes, it still feels a bit long at times. The movie picks up in the final act, but there are a few stretches that could have used some tinkering. Nevertheless, though not without its flaws, Burn After Reading is an entertaining, early-fall entry to theaters.
Review by Robert Bell (C)
With a dash of unnecessarily gratuitous violence, a sprinkle of overt misogyny and a veritable cornucopia of unintentionally amusing character traits, Bangkok Dangerous is in no danger of garnering any Oscar nominations, which for the most part appears to suit it just fine. Despite playing it straight - which makes it that much more amusing - the film seems to be at least a little bit aware of its own ineptitude and desire to cater to the lowest common denominator, which includes guns, tits and severed limbs.
While on a routine assassination mission in Thailand, Joe (Nicolas Cage) reflects on the isolationist nature of contractual killing and whines a bit about how hard it is to make friends while brutally murdering various baddies. To help him out with his somewhat convoluted assignment, Joe enlists the help of a street criminal named Kong (Shahkrit Yamnarm), who picks up suitcases from high-class hooker Aom (Panward Hemmanee).
In between routine slaughters and heroin injections, Joe makes a visit to the local pharmacy to get some Bactine for a miscellaneous gash and meets the demure, sexless and conveniently mute Fon (Charlie Yeung), an inhuman male fantasy who giggles a lot. Inevitable he starts up a flirtation with the young woman that hits a wall when he blows someone’s brains out all over her cream coloured jacket.
Teenage boys will surely find a great deal of pleasure in the many profane utterances and bullet-ridden chase sequences throughout, as will a certain selection of grown men (business in the front; party in the back). This movie was made for that demographic and they will likely complain only about the first lethargically directed hour before the titties flop out and the blood starts flowing.
Regardless of maturity or let’s face it - competence, Bangkok Dangerous treads along at a decent clip and can be perceived as entertaining by a variety of different kinds of people for a variety of different reasons.Review by Robert Bell (C)
The House Bunny is Legally Blonde's slightly retarded and far more profane cousin who would likely get drunk at a kegger, show everyone her famous ping-pong ball trick and cry about it the next day. It's kind of amusing in its own embarrassing way but lacks any real meaning or sense of self.
Without Anna Faris' unique comic sensibilities there would be very little to redeem this somewhat offensive, formulaic yarn outside of a very large girl attempting to seduce a classmate by indicating that she needs to lay a deuce. All progression and character motivation - regardless of endless feminist rants from secondary characters - stem from a desire to please and attract men. The overall message seems to be something akin to “you don't need to show the world your cooter to get respect, a little cleavage and butt-cheek is more than enough”.
This fish-out-of-water comedy follows Shelley (Anna Faris) after her 27th birthday when she is chagrined to find that she has been evicted from her home; the Playboy mansion. Desperate to find a new home, she stumbles across a college campus and weasels her way into the role of “House Mother” to a sorority filled with dysfunctional social misfits in desperate need of a makeover.
Roughly following Snow White and the Seven Dwarves - if they were named: Preggers (Katharine McPhee), Crippley (Rumer Willis), Dorky (Emma Stone), Butchy (Kat Dennings), Stinky, Mutey and Dumpy - there is a reinvention of the freaks urged by the inevitable fear of losing the sorority house to a group of preppy skanks led by Mrs. Hagstrom (Beverley D'Angelo). Throw in a requisite love interest in the form of Colin Hanks and the formula is complete.
Despite a fairly crappy, by-the-numbers script, Anna Faris does manage to make some of the obvious jokes unique and amusing. There are few actresses that could pull off the Marilyn Monroe standing over a vent gag with any sort of originality but Faris manages. There is an insight and intelligence to her dippy reactions and blank stares that makes it all that much droller.
Cameos in the form of Hugh Hefner and those three hookers from his reality show appropriately but annoyingly make their way on screen and thankfully the obnoxious Kendra doesn't laugh or speak much.
Those who like Anna Faris will forgive the film many of its faults given her abilities, however, those who do not care for Ms. Faris will most certainly find this movie unbearable as it is essentially a retread of Sydney White with more fake boobs and pubic hair jokes.
Jack Bauer, bored of taking on terrorists and assassins, has shifted his focus to a much more dangerous target: mirrors. Yes, mirrors. In the Alexandre Aja movie Mirrors, Kiefer Sutherland stars as a security guard who begins to believe that the mirrors in the abandoned department store that he patrols are possessed with a demonic force that can kill at will.
Aja, the guy behind such gore fests as High Tension and The Hills Have Eyes, has set the bar pretty high. While not everyone loves his films, no one can argue that his two most well known pictures are disturbing and thrilling. That being said, I had relatively high hopes for Mirrors. Unfortunately, Mirrors is also based on a Korean movie, which means that it falls into the dried-up subgenre of Asian horror movie adaptations. That, in the least, is disturbing in its own right.
Thankfully, Aja has created a film that supercedes the subgenre, if only slightly. The movie does follow the pretty typical formula: a guy gets a new job, starts seeing weird things, continues to work there, begins to believe that something is truly wrong and eventually discovers that a creepy little girl may have something to do with it. Aside from that, Aja tries his best to make us forget about the thin plot - and succeeds off and on.
I didn't love Mirrors. The first half is so-so, as there are some plot holes, sketchy moments and so on and so forth. It's never explained to a believable level why an abandoned department store that is halfway burned to the ground needs to be patrolled on an hourly basis, or why Sutherland, who lost his job as a police detective, needs to work a night job when he could just as easily land a normal gig during the day. Of course, there's always the problem that even if you think you're crazy, why the hell would you go back to a job when you see dead people in the mirrors? Furthermore, Sutherland isn't anything special; at least Paula Patton and her cleavage make up for his shortcomings.
Nevertheless, if you can look beyond its flaws, Mirrors is pretty scary. The use of mirrors has always been an easy approach for directors to scare the living daylights out of their audiences, and Aja has made a movie made of nothing but mirrors. There are quite a few scary moments and several of those will make you jump. As far as gore goes, the movie pales in comparison to Aja's other films, but there are still some decent neck-gouging, jaw-splitting death scenes.
The ending, as far as horror movies go, is also quite decent.
Mirrors isn't a great movie and it isn't for everyone, but as far as Asian remakes go, it's pretty good.
Review by Robert Bell (A-)
To dismiss Henry Poole is Here as a maudlin rumination on faith and religion would be to ignore the inherent human struggles and blatant annihilation anxieties rumbling beneath the surface, which are exposed only through the central "religious" plot device that unites a group of people who would otherwise have little to do with each other. Faith acts as a simple fulcrum to expose incontrovertible feelings of disappointment, rage and lost hope.
Surface thematic interpretation aside, systemic cultural incertitude surrounding sincere emotion and the fear of complex mortal thoughts outside of the minutia that society is socialized to value and prioritize will likely cause most to ignore Henry Poole's deeper human themes, which is really a shame as it's one of the better films thus far in 2008.
When he is unable to convince homeowners to sell a house he desperately wants, an angry and disconsolate Henry Poole (Luke Wilson) settles for a dilapidated house down the street. Settling into his routine of getting drunk by himself and eating frozen pizza, Henry is interrupted by an enthusiastic neighbour named Esperanza (Adriana Barazza) who believes a watermark on the side of his house to be the face of Jesus.
Given that Henry moved to the neighbourhood to be left alone, her bubbling persistence and endless religious prattle is particularly unwelcome and only complicated when he meets the mute daughter (Morgan Lily) of his much more affable neighbour Dawn (Radha Mitchell).
Through his newly established relationships, Henry is forced to again battle the learned belief that hope and expectation begets pain and disappointment.
It is true that Albert Torres' script paints subtlety like a 4-year old with an oversized crayon by imbuing central characters with names like "Dawn", "Patience" and Esperanza (which means "Hope") and having them spout dialogue like "Hope won't save me", but Pellington's direction of the material is really rather impressive. He clearly understands despondency and defeat and frames his characters with emotional truth rather than the usual hip and ostentatious vulgarity an emotionally detached audience is accustomed to.
Moments of stillness and reflection will be interpreted as either dull or moving depending on the expectations and connectivity of the viewer, and as such will likely divide audience appreciation of the film. Regardless, it would be difficult to ignore the visual cohesion and use of positioning and lighting to reinforce character representation.
Also difficult to ignore is the sheer magnetism of Adriana Barazza who all but steals the show as an almost manically hopeful woman desperate to believe that such an unfair world can have miracles. There is an energy and complexity in her performance that is both touching and amusing.
Quite simply, this is a film that boils down human complexity to the basic anxieties that create conflict and has the balls to answer the question "Why?" with "Why not?" (Seville)
Review by Nathan Samdahl (B-)
Once again I made the mistake I always try to avoid. That mistake of course is to come into Tropic Thunder with too high of expectations. While the trailers were never phenomenal, I found it hard to imagine a film that starred Ben Stiller, Jack Black, Robert Downey Jr., Matthew McConaughey, Nick Nolte and Tom Cruise to be an endeavor that would end up being surprisingly flat and that would miss the comic mark so many times. Don't get me wrong, the film has hilarious moments, mostly courtesy of Downey Jr. who plays the leading African American role in the film within the film. Also, the visuals are fantastic, thanks to one of my favorite cinematographers John Toll (The Thin Red Line, Braveheart). But despite having almost every conceivable element working in favor of the film being great, it just isn't.
While it is convenient to fall back and place the blame solely on the director, in this case Ben Stiller, it has to be said that this film is sizably larger in scope than any other Ben Stiller-directed film, his next most notable being Zoolander. His movies succeed in being wildly over-the-top throughout, which is perhaps why this one fumbles a bit. Tropic Thunder is most certainly a comedy, but with some pretty extensive action/war sequences including an opening scene somewhat reminiscent of the battle scenes in We Were Soldiers, it doesn't always seem properly focused. Despite all of the humor infused into these action sequences, it perhaps feels a bit too realistic to focus only on the comedy of the situation. This is even more the case later in the film, when Stiller is captured by actual rebels and is tortured. While part of this torture involves Stiller's character Speedman reviving his role as "Simple Jack," a Radio-like flop that epitomized the character's career as of late, even this humorous scenario does not entirely outweigh the seriousness of his situation.
It seems that this movie struggled a bit with its intended direction. If it had chosen to take an even more over-the-top, less realistic approach it could have been absolutely hilarious throughout. However, as is, some of the more serious moments make the comedic ones that directly follow fall a bit flat. In some cases though, the comedy just falls short on its own accord, which is most pronounced with the rap dancing scenes with Tom Cruise, who plays the crazy financier of the seemingly doomed-to-finish film. His dancing over the end credits was one of those moments where you hope and pray that he won't and when he does it sends a wave of silence over the humor-desiring crowd. Cruise and McConaughey, who plays Speedman's eager to please agent, surprisingly end up being the biggest comedic flops in this one.
Certainly here I have focused on the lesser aspects of Tropic Thunder. This is mostly because the film's concept is fantastic and with a slightly reworked script and a clearer focus on what the film wanted to be, this could have easily been one of the funniest films in years. As is, Robert Downey Jr. is well worth the ticket price, his appearance and voice alone are priceless and despite the film's occasional awkwardness he always is able to deliver a knockout line to bring the laughs. See this movie, but don't bring the same expectations as I did. Without them, you should be able to enjoy Tropic Thunder as a clever and funny summer romp.
Review by Nathan Samdahl (B+)
A surprisingly engaging and well-crafted film, Baghead is a fresh addition to the relatively small pool of films that can be considered horror-comedies. Despite it being several months since I saw the movie, I can still remember it clearly, which alone speaks volumes about the film's quality.
From its description, Baghead could easily fall into the category of a typical horror-slasher film- a group of relatively young people going out to a cabin in the woods to have some fun before eventually being terrorized by a person who wears a bag on his head. However, in this case, the early-thirties couples are four struggling actors who are attempting to go away for a weekend to write a screenplay with four juicy parts, which will kick-start their careers. The problem arises when lack of motivation foils their screenwriting endeavor and the half-ass story they came up with begins to come true. The film's gritty camcorder visuals and the extremely down-to-earth characters make this one of the most relatable horror films in recent memory. The characters actually, for the most part, act in the sensible ways that you hope you would follow in similar circumstances. It also helps that the characters, particularly the two lead males, are hilarious, particularly before they encounter Baghead.
While the characters' toiling at the cabin is the heart of the movie, the film's opening sequence at a small theater/club proves to be one of the most hilarious and relatable sequences. Here both couples go see the performance of one of Matt's friends, Jett Garner, who is played by none other than Jett Garner. The performance ends up being some of the awfully pretentious drivel that people force themselves to enjoy in a vain attempt to be cultured. Thankfully, the directors created four characters that feel the same way the movie audience does about the performance piece, making the sequence an incredibly funny introduction to the characters, particularly when they tell Jett Garner how much they enjoyed the performance.
Baghead is a bit of a slap to the face of all the piss-poor horror films produced for a budget probably ten times that of this film, which really appeared to be shot over the course of a weekend. Unfortunately, this high quality film does not seem to have much at all in the way of a decent distribution deal. Understandably, it has no recognizable actors or directors nor does it have the expected glossy visuals, but that clearly was not the plan for this comedy with dramatic and horror elements. In fact, the story of Baghead seems to pretty closely mirror the production of the film, a story made for four relatively unknown and talented actors to have a breakout role. If you ever get a chance to see this film, more than likely on DVD, take the time to see it. Despite the lack of any marketing for the film, Baghead is one of the most entertaining movies so far this year and at a running time under an hour and a half, this is a great film to watch with an antsy group of friends.
Review by Robert Bell (B)
The title, Pineapple Express, refers to a strain of marijuana that is "so rare, that smoking it is like killing a unicorn." In fact, if smoked, one might be inclined to look up things on the internet, talk about how hard it is to be cool and watch episodes of 227 (yes, that show with Jackee). The film - while nothing particularly special - succeeds in making the usually oblique and inaccessible (to those who aren't under the influence) stoner comedy engaging to a wider (read sober) audience. While it will surely be appreciated more by potheads, the bizarre logic and chaotic happenings are kept relatively grounded in reality by indie director David Gordon Green's candid, matter-of-fact technique.
Dale Denton (Seth Rogen) is a 26-year-old pothead who serves subpoena's for a living and dates a high-school student (Amber Heard) on the cusp of college where, according to Dale, she will forget about him and get into bands like "Godspeed! You Black Emperor" and "The Shins."
After a routine visit to his weed dealer Saul (James Franco) to pick up a rare strain of marijuana known as Pineapple Express, Dale witnesses a drug Mafioso (Gary Cole) and a crooked cop (Rosie Perez) killing someone and accidentally leaves a roach at the scene of the crime. Paranoid and panicking, Dale returns to Saul to find out if this rare weed can be traced back to them.
The pair quickly learn that their paranoid delusions are very much real when a visit to marijuana middleman Red (Danny R McBride) turns to violence and a pursuit by hired baddies (Kevin Corrigan & Craig Robinson).
Pineapple Express is a shallow, slight film that really makes no effort to be anything other than a moronic comedy. Any notions of artistic integrity are thrown out the window somewhere around the third or fourth fellatio and sodomy joke. Attempting to criticize this point would be silly as the film makes absolutely no effort to say anything profound or life changing; it seeks only to paint an accurate picture of pothead nomenclature and explore astonishing notion of weed-fueled paranoia coming true. In this capacity, the film succeeds with flying colours.
Like all Apatow produced films, the second half drags with unnecessary padding and glib life lessons, but in relation to his other productions Pineapple finds itself leaning closer to the amusing antics of Superbad and 40-Year-Old Virgin than the less comically successful Forgetting Sarah Marshall and Knocked Up. Fans of the existing template will be pleased, but others may find the familiarity and initial charm of it waning.
While over-the-top fight scenes and an absurdist car chase sequence bring a great deal of humour to the film, the real scene stealer is James Franco, whose stupid grins and delayed reactions add the much needed human hilarity that Seth Rogen's typical performance is lacking.
For a shallow, slight and insipid glance at stoner humour, one could do much worse than Pineapple Express. It's sure to incite some laughs and the occasionally absurdist plotline is sure to keep most audience members on their toes and entertained for the majority of the running time. Anyone looking for something with depth and significance will be disappointed and should probably consider avoiding films about potheads running from serial killers.
Review by Robert Bell (C-)
Leaning ever so slightly on the side of Republican, this cloying, saccharine and entirely didactic offering of Capra-esque summer counter-programming, may be the perfect treat for the senior citizen crowd who will surely gasp and feel a little naughty during the many occasions that Kevin Costner cusses and takes the Lord's name in vain.
From the moment the film opens onto a charming small town in the south, to the moment that we learn that every person and every vote counts, Swing Vote keeps its morally superior and idealistic values at the forefront, even when alcoholism, under-aged driving and politically incorrect campaign commercials occasionally fizzle to the surface.
While doing a class project on the historical significance of the American political landscape and the right to vote, the precocious Molly Johnson (Madeline Carroll) asks her redneck alcoholic father Bud (Kevin Costner) if she can be involved in the voting process. When he gets drunk and forgets to meet her at the polling station, Molly decides to sneak in and make his vote for him.
A series of mishaps leave the vote uncounted, which becomes significant when the entire presidential election comes down to a tie and has to rely on Bud's vote to decide who the next president will be.
When industrious local journalist Kate Madison (Paula Patton) breaks the story to the media, both the Republican (Kelsey Grammar) and Democratic (Dennis Hopper) presidential candidates make an effort to "swing" Bud's vote, while he garners his 15-minutes of fame and his daughter learns of the political hypocrisy that masks the true needs of the American people.
While the implication that Republican political candidates use fear tactics and forcefulness to sway affiliation and Democrats blow a lot of hot air up everyone's behind with their idealistic platforms is amusing, it's not particularly fresh or insightful. Also, given that everyone learns their lesson in the end, any intended subversion is lost in an uplifting score and the usual "people-really-do-mean-well" crap.
What may be the most interesting subtextual aspect of Swing Vote is the notion that the average American voter is an easily manipulated, borderline-retarded, lemming. This may have been unintentional, but exists nonetheless.
Despite the contrived and calculating nature throughout, there are some moments of true hilarity that arise when Bud makes entirely inappropriate statements about political issues like abortion, gay marriage and immigration. Both candidates (illogically) change their platforms - through television commercials no less - with amusing results, which involve Mexicans running across the border with chickens, gay stereotypes standing on a rainbow flag with Kelsey Grammar and exploding children in a playground.
This mild amusement does mildly detract from the manipulative nature of the film and Kevin Costner does do his best to make his alcoholic cliché palatable, but little else is particularly digestible for anyone who doesn't enjoy being spoon-fed pablum.
Overall, what attempts to be an accessible mediation on current political landscapes, winds up feeling a lot like those early 90's Jim Belushi movies where an average douchebag learns a valuable lesson and helps make the world a slightly better place.
It has been six years since "The X-Files" last graced television sets and ten years since the movie blasted onto the big screen, but David Duchovny, Gillian Anderson and Chris Carter are back for another so-called X-Files adventure. Unfortunately, those looking for aliens, monsters or even a spooky plot should look elsewhere.
Before I dive into this review, let me establish that I am a huge X-Files fan. The show was one of the first serials I ever watched growing up, and I still regard it as one of the best. As such, it was pretty damn awesome to see Mulder and Scully back on the big screen - that is, until you realize that Carter has delivered the one kind of movie he shouldn't have: a picture that appeals neither to the X-Files aficionado nor a regular moviegoer. No wonder the marketing for this movie was so disastrous.
The horribly titled The X-Files: I Want to Believe begins with an FBI agent getting attacked at her home by a couple of mysterious men. The next day, a priest-turned-pedofile-turned-psychic (Billy Connolly) claims to have a vision - which leads the FBI to pull Mulder and Scully out of retirement to help the investigation. As the two wrestle with their relationship and their careers, they discover that what they've stumbled upon is not a sinister, supernatural plot, but instead a pretty standard, uninteresting one instead.
It's a real shame, because The X-Files 2 (with a different title) could have been pretty good. The assumption had always been that Carter, in an attempt to appeal to people who didn't watch the show, would do a single-episode story, a long "episode" where Mulder and Scully investigated something dark and abnormal unrelated to the alien mythology that drove the show for so many seasons (a few too many seasons). This was all fine and dandy with me; I just expected Carter to do something big, scary and disturbing. Think of some of the best "X-Files" episodes, whether it be "Home" (where the hillbillies have incestuous sex with their mother) or the ones where there's that stretchy guy who kills people and make nests under an escalator - those were scary and messed up. On the opposite end, there's The X-Files: I Want to Believe, which has you waiting for something dark and twisted occur, only to greet you with the end credits instead. Honestly, I don't know how this movie got green lit.
Plot aside, The X-Files: I Want to Believe is pretty decent. While the movie has a bit of a TV feel to it, Carter has done a good job of bringing his characters back to the big screen. Mulder is as funny as always; Scully his conservative doppelganger. He's treated their development in a realistic light, giving them solid and believable back stories.
That being said, Carter stripped a little too much away from what makes The X-Files what it is. Mulder and Scully are no longer formal FBI agents; neither have guns or badges or authority. Most disappointing is the fact that the two leads rarely are on screen together, even though they're romantically connected. Mulder does what he does best, while Scully spends her time fiddling around with a cancer patient who has no connection to the story every audience member is interested in. Furthermore, the story isn't supernatural. It doesn't contain monsters and it doesn't contain aliens. In other words, other than the presence of a silly psychic and a brief hint at something disturbing, the story presented here could have been shown in just about any modern FBI television series. Ultimately, Carter got so caught up in the metaphorical "Believe" and "Don't Give Up" bits that he forgot to make a movie that would appeal to those watching it.
Beyond the plot, there are some clunky parts. Carter glosses over many moments without much explanation; he drops the fact that Scully and Mulder are living together in a rather odd way; his revelation as to what the plot is about is so subtle that you could blink and miss it; and so on and so forth.
The X-Files lacks the story, excitement, creepiness and bang that the movie could have so easily achieved. As such, this is undoubtedly the last time we'll ever see Mulder and Scully together. The only truly good thing about this movie is that it inspired me to go watch my DVD box sets all over again.
It's 3:07 am on Friday, July 18th, and I have to wake up for work in four hours. But it's worth it. Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight packed six screens at the nearby theater; the line to get in, two hours ahead of time, spiraled down two flights of stairs and out the door. But it was worth the wait.
Batman Begins was already highly regarded as one of the best, if not the best, superhero adaptation, but Nolan has made that film look like nothing more than a setup for the chaos that rains down in this complex, gritty and twisted film. No character is safe and anything can happen as the Joker - and eventually Harvey Two-Face - embrace Gotham. Batman, a.k.a. Bruce Wayne, has helped reduce crime, but where he has squeezed, the criminal element is reacting accordingly. Whereas Batman is order, the Joker is chaos, and that is what is at play in The Dark Knight.
As my tired fingers tap against my keyboard, I must make note that to truly appreciate The Dark Knight, it may take a day or two for it to soak in, or even multiple viewings. I have my grievances, though I suspect many of those slight hiccups are a result of too much hype and anticipation. Such minor flaws will gloss over in time, and I will come to realize The Dark Knight for what it is - Hell, I pretty much already realize it - that this movie is as close to a masterpiece as comic book adaptations can come.
Well-written, superbly directed and, of course, brilliantly acted, The Dark Knight is the crowning achievement of comic book films. It's hardly fair to compare it to Spider-Man 2, which relishes in mutated heroes and villains, or even X-Men 2, which has dozens of the like. Those are both great films, and there are people who will like them more because they are pure entertainment and blockbuster action flicks. I still love them, but The Dark Knight takes one of the most popular superheroes in history to an entirely different level. Nolan's version of Gotham is shockingly realistic. Other than a guy who flies around in a bat suit and a psychopath who can destroy a city, the Nolans (Christopher with brother Jonathan) have created a gritty, believable crime thriller complete with a sustainable plot, riveting characters and plenty of action. The Dark Knight has it all.
Before I get to the good stuff, let me point out the few annoyances I have. I don't like the cell phone sonar system - it was a little too James Bond-ish for this kind of film. Christian Bale, while still great, didn't blow me away as much this round; I didn't like his gravely Batman voice. While Two-Face isn't relegated to the very end of the movie, I was hoping to see even more. And why does Nolan even include the Scarecrow at all? There are a few other things, but my tired mind has started to wander.
To get it out of the way, Heath Ledger makes this film. His rendition of the Joker is disturbing, psychotic and downright creepy. This is one of the rare roles where the actor, as he really is, cannot be recognized. If he hadn't died, would an Oscar nomination even be considered? Perhaps not, just because of the type of film he has chosen to deliver his crowning achievement. But he is gone, and it is almost assured that Ledger will get a nomination. Ledger is absolutely incredible.
Aaron Eckhart, as Harvey Dent/Two-Face, is also surprisingly good. The marketing team kept his character - or at least his eventual self - under tight wraps, and the anticipation pays off. The makeup job is incredible; nothing like the horrible Tommy Lee Jones pink-face from the late 90's. His performance is sound, though it would have been great to give him an entire movie on his own. After all, how is Nolan going to follow up The Dark Knight with something better? I really don't see how a sequel could be better than this.
The movie is two-and-a-half hours long, but it doesn't feel like it. It moves at a fast pace and the Nolans have plenty of plot to play with. The movie starts off good, but gets great in the middle section - I literally was grinning through much of it - and ends pretty solidly. I wouldn't say it's perfect, but it's near perfect, and again, a couple more viewings of this picture may convince me that the film is flawless. Either way, The Dark Knight is jaw-dropping.
Review by Robert Bell (B)
Staying true to her singular feminist roots and psychosexual explorations of the inherent imbalances between men and women, but stepping away from prosthetic penises, fun with menstrual blood and brutal parallels of symbolic emotional rape, Catherine Breillat has assembled her most accessible art house film to date. It's a slightly perverse, subtext-laden and stuffy Masterpiece theatre style entry with soft-core porn lighting and surprisingly glib insights on female sexuality in relation to religious constructs of male supremacy. Breillat's feat here is mainly that of transferring Jules-Amédée Barbey d'Aurevilly's invariably male-centric novel of the same name and spicing it up with some sly feminist critique.
The Last Mistress tells the story of 30-year-old libertine Ryno De Marigny (Fu'ad Ait Aattou) in 1830's France where he is set to marry a bleached-blonde and pubis-shaven chaste aristocrat named Hermangarde (Breillat regular Roxane Mesquida). Being known for his 10-year affair with an Andalusian courtesan called Vellini (Asia Argento), Ryno is eyed warily by those surrounding Hermangarde, which leads him to professing his story to her grandmother, la Marquise de Flers (Claude Sarraute).
The majority of the film is told through this flashback, as Ryno's initial dislike for the homely (according to the text) Vellini, turns to arousal, pursuance and conquest.
As the pair go from unknowns, to lovers, to parents and back around they continue with cat-and-mouse games that lead into the present when Vellini learns of Ryno's marriage to the virtuous Hermangarde. In true form, Vellini shows up from afar to tempt her long-time lover with her ardent sexuality and knowing gaze.
Breillat's preoccupation with the profane is still apparent in Mistress, with chicken slaughter, wound licking, kooky sexual positions and some erotic asphyxia next to the burning corpse of a 3-year-old, but is considerably more palatable in relation to the narrative than much of her previous work. Perversion is often used to symbolize demonized female sexuality as well as the virulent nature of cannibalistic French socialites throughout the film and is recognizable as such.
A great deal of the films strength lies in the connection and intensity of the performances from both Aattou and Argento. While Aattou radiates a naïve charm and relatively lucid idealism, Argento purrs with intimidating sexuality, which stems from her husky voice and penetrating gaze. They are able to play off of each other's strengths with ease as Vellini clearly dominates the milquetoast Ryno both intellectually and sexually. Their passion is convincing, leading to a greater believability in Ryno's struggle to remain faithful to his comely bride whom he quickly loses interest in.
The implication that men are simplistic creatures driven by sexual impulse and entitlement, while women must use hard-earned wit and manipulation to obtain power, is nothing particularly new or insightful. It is, however, an interesting take on some fairly familiar and somewhat bland material.
Review by Robert Bell (B)
As a straightforward and guileless adaptation of the hit musical, Mamma Mia! mostly succeeds, despite the fact that it is essentially two-hours of celebrity ABBA karaoke with only a little vocal talent. Agnetha, Björn, Benny and Anni-Frid's layered harmonies and catchy hooks lend themselves well to the popular musical format, adding some accessibility to a less euphoniously discerning crowd than perhaps a Sondheim musical might, with its angular harmonies and polyphony. Understandably, this aggressively fluffy pop music is juxtaposed with an equally exuberant and almost psychotically optimistic plot about following one's heart and knowing that love is love regardless of DNA and external genitalia.
With her impending nuptials, 20-year-old Sophie (Amanda Seyfried, Bill's oldest, anti-polygamist daughter on Big Love) is desperate to find her real father, whose identity has been kept hidden by her mother Donna (Meryl Streep). After uncovering her mother's diary, Sophie quickly finds out the reason that her mother has been so secretive about her patriarchal roots. It seems that back in the day, Donna got pelvic with three different men in a very short period of time, which means that the father could be Sam (Pierce Brosnan), Bill (Stellan Skarsgard), or Harry (Colin Firth).
In an effort to solve the mystery, Sophie invites all three men to her wedding, much to the surprise of her mother, and her mother's lifelong girlfriends (Julie Walters & Christine Baranski).
As surely as cynics will scoff at unrealistic character reactions, occasionally crappy singing and frequently sloppy transitions between songs, ABBA loving optimists will be tapping their toes along to each musical number and delighting in the sheer, undeniable whimsy and spirit. Director Phillida Lloyd has opted for an edited, musical montage approach rather than the choreographed soundstage approach of other recent musicals like Enchanted and Hairspray. The result is decent, engaging and occasionally beautiful, even if there are occasional moments similar to early 90's music-video's where ingénue's wear overly emotional expressions on their faces while singing at the camera.
The biggest question that a lot of people will invariably ask about Mamma Mia! is if the actors can sing. The answer is both yes and no. Amanda Seyfried is impressive all around, proving herself as a bankable star, which is especially significant considering that she is standing next to the multi-talented Meryl Streep, who herself can sing quite well. On the other hand, Pierce Brosnan sounds like a dying goat whenever he opens his mouth and Stellan Skarsgard sings a bit like a kid who licks glass and eats three lunches a day.
Quite simply, Mamma Mia! is a reasonably well made - if somewhat touristy and compact - film that will please fans of the genre and annoy those who dislike pop and/or musicals; plus, Meryl Streep plays air guitar and dresses up in a glittery jumpsuit.
In 2004, then-relative unknown director Guillermo Del Toro adapted the challenging comic book "Hellboy" into a mildly successful and extremely entertaining movie about a tough, red demon with a stone hand who likes cigar and kittens, is in love with a firestarter who looks a hell of a lot like Selma Blair and who protects humanity from monsters, immortal Nazis and so on and so forth. Hellboy is not the kind of character that one would think audiences could relate to, but relate they did, mainly with the help of Ron Perlman's performance. Hellboy II: The Golden Army picks up where the first one left off... sort of.
Hellboy II brings back Perlman, Blair and other members of the cast, and most importantly Del Toro, who has since proved his worth with the excellent and ultimately denied Pan's Labyrinth. With Del Toro's newfound imagination for the weird, Hellish creatures from Labyrinth, Hellboy II had the makings of being an incredible and improved sequel.
That is not the case.
Hellboy II: The Golden Army is entertaining, pretty funny and has some good action scenes, but something is amiss, not quite right, a little off, a tad different. While a continuation in story, the movie feels more like a reboot with a different writer, different actors and different visuals, which is odd since the writer, director and actors are all the same. The improvements are not for the better. Hellboy himself seems more subdued, more lovely dubby, less sarcastic and less intimidating, and that's not a good thing. He walks around love stricken for most of the movie and hesitates when he must kill nasty creatures. The relationship between Blair and Hellboy is bitter at best; Del Toro skipped over the good times and went straight to the downhill part. We never got to see them as a loving couple, and thus we can't relate when they're somewhat beyond that. The chemistry between Blair and Perlman seems to have fizzled. Abe Sapien, too, is different, his character less odd and less intriguing. A romance that sparks between him and and an underworld princess is more distracting than anything else.
There's just something off about the movie, and the blame must fall on Del Toro. He tried to turn his action-comedy premise into a fantasy-action-comedy, and the result is inconsistent at best. Hellboy's foray into a troll market, which is like an extreme, monster-filled version of Harry Potter's Diagon Alley, is interesting but surprisingly too magical for Hellboy, at least based on my limited knowledge of the character from the first movie. The encounter with his personal "death" and the decision Blair's character must face is interesting as well and truly imaginative, but also seems out of place in a movie like Hellboy II.
Going into Hellboy II, I was looking forward to an amalgam of Hellboy and Pan's Labyrinth, but in hindsight, I just wanted Hellboy. I wanted the tough, sarcastic character to kick some ass and take on a truly intimidating villain, and that just didn't happen, at least not entirely. Again, Hellboy II is entertaining, but it shifts from comedy (including a singing sequence between Hellboy and Abe) to action to drama, but doesn't properly combine the three. Furthermore, the main villain, Prince Nuada (Luke Goss) isn't nearly as intimidating as I was expecting. Though he wants to kill all of humanity, he isn't nearly as scary or dark as he needed to be. Compared to the ruthless villain of the first film, he is nothing.
All that being said, Hellboy II does generate a fair amount of laughs, and there are some very well done action sequences. When Del Toro does dive into action, the movie picks up tremendously; the last half hour are especially good. It's not a bad movie, and in many ways is still quite good, but it still feels more like Spider-Man 3 than Spider-Man 2. Del Toro needed to cut 20-30 minutes out of its running time, the almost-romance between Sapien and the princess and some of the more fantastical elements and focus on the film's strengths.
Hellboy II: The Golden Army is entertaining, but lacks the cohesive chemistry the first film maintained. This sequel does not live up to its potential.
One of the best reviewed movies of the year is, no surprise, Pixar's Wall-E, a movie that has been buzzing since the first, dialogue-free teaser trailer hit theaters a summer ago with Pixar's last masterpiece, Ratatouille. As good as Ratatouille was, it feels like an appetizer compared to Wall-E, which is as close to a masterpiece as movies can be. It fires on all cylinders and rarely, if ever, misfires.
Wall-E continues the near-perfect streak of the company-not-to-be-outdone, Pixar, as they continue to buck the trend that other animated production houses take. Whereas DreamWorks and Fox and any other company that does animated films tend to play as modern satires and spoofs, with timely jokes and music, Pixar continues to amaze with fully realized characters, visuals and story. Pixar films are becoming increasingly daring and ambitious, and Wall-E, by far, is their crowning achievement.
Whereas most animated films will be crammed with the voices of well known actors to pull in box office dollars, Pixar has gone the unconventional route of removing almost all dialogue from the entire picture. The two main characters, both robots, say twenty words between them; the main character says two or three at most. It's a risky move, as, after all, Pixar is making a movie for children. Or are they? When one thinks about it, Pixar has transcended the level of cartoon or kid's flick. Pixar is the one animated brand that all but guarantees widespread appeal and general audience attention. Most animated movies, even box office successes like Kung Fu Panda, do not automatically appeal to older audiences, and as such, DreamWorks and the rest have to make movies with the easy laughs. Pixar is guaranteed a lot of box office, and thus they have the ability to experiment.
Experiment they do. Wall-E takes place on Earth 800 years in the future. There are no humans left; in fact, the only form of life is a single cockroach. New York and the rest of the world are piled high with skyscraper-sized garbage heaps, created by the Wall-E robots left behind to clean up humanity's mess. The mess, created by megastores and consumerism, has caused humans to go on a five-year journey - going on 700 years - through space. Aside from the cockroach, all that's left is a single, lonely robot, who goes about his day doing his job and curiously examining the garbage he is designed to cleanup. When a spaceship lands and a new, shiny white female robot named Eve emerges to search for any sign of life, though, Wall-E falls in love. His curiosity and devotion lead him to follow Eve into space, and with him could come humanity's salvation.
Yes, it doesn't sound like a kid's movie. And in many ways it's not, except that it contains no objectionable material and is highly enjoyable in every single way. Wall-E does carry a heavy environmental message, but it's never in your face to where it becomes distracting. Written and directed by Andrew Stanton, the director of the Toy Story movies and Finding Nemo, among others, Wall-E is flawless in design, execution and story. Nothing is said for the first half hour of the movie, yet Stanton keeps you engaged, intrigued and entertained. Wall-E is funny, but in a simple, realistic way. Wall-E is like a curious dog, and humor comes from the same things that you would laugh about when watching your pet explore a new yard. Anything and everything can be fascinating to him, and he acts like a sad, lonely but determined puppy.
Beyond the writing, though, the visual effects and direction are absolutely amazing. The visuals, some of the best on the market today, continue the almost-realistic visuals seen in Ratatouille. The first half hour is especially mesmerizing as Stanton and his visual effects time show us a world that is stunningly detailed. The visuals deserve an Oscar, and if not for the stigma against animated films, I could see a Best Director nod in favor of Stanton.
Wall-E is quite possibly the best animated movie ever created, and beyond that, it is a funny, cute, romantic and heartwarming tale. It is, simply, a masterpiece.
In our third superhero movie of the summer, we get the refreshing Hancock, a rare genre film not derived from any comic book. While not perfect, this action-comedy has enough gunfights, laughs and entertainment to make it well worth the $10 admission.
In Hancock, Will Smith stars as a super-powered man who is invincible, has super-strength and can fly at blazingly fast speeds. Despite that, everyone in the city hates him. Not only does he tend to cost the city millions of dollars in damage with his "heroics," but he's a bum, a drunk and an asshole. With people chomping at the bit more than ever from Hancock to stop "saving" them, a PR agent (Jason Bateman) manages to convince Hancock to do some time behind bars to appease the public and make them realize just how much the city needs him. The plan works, but what happens next will surprise you.
First off, if you liked the previews, you will love the first half of the movie. Hancock, directed by Peter Berg (The Kingdom), is a fast-paced thrill ride full of car chases, gunfights and ugly children being thrown thousands of feet into the area just for mouthing off to the "hero." Smith is a convincing drunken bastard, and he acts like one with amazing ease. There are plenty of laughs, some good one-liners and lots of destruction (amazingly few explosions, come to think of it). I was highly anticipating Hancock, and much of the film delivers.
In the second half, though, Hancock begins to show some cracks. People are going to disagree on just how big of cracks there are; I would have gone an entirely different, simpler direction, but can't complain too much. The movie is consistently entertaining and has a fair amount of action, though some of the magic from the first half is lost in the second. After a completely surprising twist, the film's dynamic changes, not necessarily for the better. It dives into some rather unconventional plot elements that I don't know were the right choice for a summer blockbuster, but more importantly, Hancock loses much of its humor. I wouldn't say the film gets dark, but it certainly gets darker.
If you're wondering what I meant by keeping things simple, I would have had a supervillain show up and start wailing on Hancock. End with a gigantic fight sequence and throw in a few laughs to boot. It wouldn't have been the most original way to wrap things up, but when it comes to comic book movies, you don't need to be original, just exciting. Hancock's ending is pretty good, but perhaps a bit too low scale compared to what I would have expected.
In the end, Hancock suffers from a surprising but not necessarily great twist, weak CGI and a lack of a strong central villain, but its positives make up for at least some of its deficiencies.
Had Berg and writers Vincent Ngo and Vince Gilligan tried to stay within the standard limits of a superhero movie, Hancock could have been great. As is, it's solid but not flawless entertainment.
Review by Robert Bell (B-)
Stepping away from the X-rated exploits of HBO's Tell Me You Love Me, Patricia Rozema has taken on some decidedly lighter material with Kit Kittredge, a depression era G-rated Nancy Drew that is based on the popular "American Girl" doll line. It seems logical that a movie based on a plush doll line of merchandise that professes "dress like your doll" as a selling point would be facile and salable, however, the film features some guileless didactics with a heartwarming centre that is only occasionally contrived.
The film follows Kit Kittredge (Abigail Breslin) during the 1930's depression after her father (Chris O'Donnell) has left their home in search of work and her mother (Julia Ormond) has had to take borders into their home in order to make ends meet. Kit's response to change and hardship is initially fearful, acknowledging social stigmas attached to the poor, such as selling eggs and wearing dresses made of chicken feed bags, but like all plucky heroines she makes lemonade when life hands her a bag of manure.
To keep the younger demographic interested, there is an overlying mystery involving a faceless thief with an arm tattoo, who travels from town to town giving a bad name to hobos. As one of Kittredge's central themes is that of acceptance and prevailing kindness, it doesn't take a great deal of genius to predict the road that the film will eventually travel.
Observations about a child's necessity to take on more adult roles in difficult times, in addition to the human tendency to ostracize and condemn those who are different in order to validate their own fragile existence ameliorate the films schmaltzy tendency to be maudlin and banal. For every false scene where the soundtrack forces unearned sentiment, there are moments of truth such as one where a young boy writes a fake letter to his mother from his absent father in order to give her hope and strength.
Color, costume and construction of Kit Kittredge are all top-notch, giving gravity and credibility to the premise, while performances from the cast of seasoned thesps are uniformly effective aside from Joan Cusack whose over-the-top goofiness is both distracting and aggravating. Also, as Kit Kittredge, Abigail Breslin seems to be only partially present, going through the motions appropriately, but never connecting with her character or the audience. Considering the impressive work by some of the other young actors in the film, this appears to be a problem with the young actress rather than one of direction.
The central mystery, along with Kit's journalistic journey are occasionally lost in a story that tries to cover too much ground, but comes together in a third act that ties things together satisfactorily, if unremarkably. "Kittredge" glibly makes heroes and saints of the hobo community while shuffling looks of distain towards gypsies, but only out of ignorance and the necessity of simplifying complex themes for the younger target audience.
Despite some severe pacing issues, more bookish pre-teen girls should find a connection with the titular Kit and her relentless self-preservation and persevering optimism in hard times.