Film Review - WANTED: Blood, Guts, Bullets & Octane!

Have you ever see a film that, early into the viewing, had you shaking your head in incredulity? They don’t really think I’m dumb enough to enjoy this, do they? But then, lacking the will to walk out and demand a refund, you surrender to the inanity and slowly begin to enjoy yourself and even, dare I say, feel an increasing glow of admiration for whoever concocted the bizarre clap-trap of ridiculousness before you?

Well, I had such an experience watching the hyper-violent Wanted, the 129th graphic novel adaptation to be released this month alone (I kid!). It raised my awareness of a secret group of assassins who have been covertly working right under our noses, corrupting societal order, for the last thousand years. I know! I was as surprised as you are!

Equally as shocked is young Wesley Gibson (James McAvoy), a corporate drone in near-suicidal Dilbert mode. His life just plain sucks. He’s broke and he hates his job, where his shrewish boss sadistically emasculates him. Even worse, his conniving girlfriend is cheating on him with his loser best friend. Just when things couldn’t get any worse, a mystery woman named Fox (Angelina Jolie) shows up in a pharmacy and saves him from the deadly killer Cross (Thomas Kretschmann), who apparently offed Wesley’s super-assassin father. Before long, our young hero is persuaded to join The Fraternity, a secret assassin squad run by Morgan Freeman (Aren’t they all nowadays?). Despite having to go through a strict regimen of facial beatings, stabbings and gruesome bodily mutilations, Wesley is soon a bad-ass gunman who can “curve the bullet”, which is a pretty nifty skill and even groovier special effect. Given the assignment of taking out Cross, Wesley soon finds the metaphorical tables turned, and then must decide who to trust, who to kill, and exactly how many stray rats to blow up. I’m not making that last part up, either.

Look, it’s clear from the get-go that Wanted has very few intelligent ideas in its pretty little head. The film’s secret weapon though, is Russian director Timur Bekmambetov (Night Watch, Day Watch) who has never found a shot he couldn’t improve through sheer kinetic loopiness. There is a car chase early in the picture, with McAvoy driving a red Ferrari and Jolie laying across the hood unloading multiple firearms, which ups the ante on outrageous car-chases. My other favourite moment, a smaller one, is a scene where Wesley smashes a keyboard across an opponent’s face and stray keys fly towards the screen in slow-motion, spelling out an obscenity. While the overabundance of hyperactivity grows a tad stale by the end, I can always find respect for an action movie that shows me something new.

James McAvoy proves himself to be a surprisingly effective action hero. I’ve been unimpressed with most of his prior work, but his commanding presence here has me hoping that’ll he’ll apply this new charismatic approach to future work. Angelina Jolie plays the male fantasy version of Angelina Jolie, beating the snot out of people and looking devilishly seductive at the same time. Morgan Freeman does the umpteenth variation on his typical mentor role, but at least gets to toss off some F-bombs which are actually more shocking than the film’s creative carnage.

I suspect most thrill-junkies are going to have a great time with Wanted. It’s almost two hours of mindless stylized death that leaves you giggling as you walk out of the theatre doors. However, it’s done skilfully and with a level of originality that earns it a recommendation. Now I’d really like to see what Bekmambetov can do with a script that doesn’t involve detonating vermin...

3 out of 5

Film Review - HANCOCK: A Truly Flaccid Blockbuster... Heehee.

As I sit here, trying to sort through the scattered details of my experience watching Hancock, I’m left with a simple question: What happened? We have Will Smith, arguably the biggest movie star on the face of the planet, playing a conflicted superhero. We have a solid supporting cast featuring the always engaging Charlize Theron and comically gifted Jason Bateman as a husband and wife team who help the mighty-louse achieve respectability. There’s even an emerging hot-shot directorial talent, Peter Berg (The Kingdom, Friday Night Lights) running the show. So why is Hancock such an incomprehensible mess? No really, I’d like to know.

It can’t be blamed on the script being hopeless, because it has been a hot property in Hollywood for a fair number of years. Sold and produced under the title Tonight, He Comes (*tee-hee*), then given the slightly less porn-centric moniker Hancock, the film was initially intended to be a blackly humorous deconstruction of the superhero genre with a thoroughly unlikable protagonist. My guess is that that’s where the Hollywood heavies stepped in and made some drastic changes in the name of the kid-friendly PG-13 rating and the guarantee of summertime dollars. The hell with logic or narrative focus, not to mention artistic integrity!

As it stands now, the Fresh Prince’s titular character isn’t even that much of a scoundrel. He’s more of a surly alcoholic with a bawdy streak and a penchant for leaving bedlam and destruction in his wake. After saving nice-guy Public Relations executive Ray Embrey (Bateman) from a train-wreck (Ironic, much?), the struggling professional decides to take on Hancock as a project. The drunken crusader, initially resistant, humours Ray and allows himself to be incarcerated for his numerous crimes against the city’s architecture. After a montage of therapy/prison life scenes, he’s in reluctant hero-mode, uneasily helping the police stop bank robberies, and donning a goofy black costume. However, hidden complications soon loom, and when they come into play, Hancock and Ray’s lives are irreversibly altered, and the film itself veers off into Looney-land.

The plot synopsis above really only covers the first half-hour of this ninety-minute snoozer. Whatever impressions you’ve gotten from the movie’s marketing campaign should be dismissed, as Hancock is not the comedic hero flick you’ve been expecting. Each of the three acts manages to take the film into a different genre: The first section is a foul-mouthed comedy in which the word “asshole” is uttered, perhaps, more than any film in the history of cinema. Then there is a clunky transition, and we’re suddenly in action-thriller territory, with a predictable surprise development and a truly dismal attempt at a superhero battle. Finally, after we’ve grown frustrated and tired from being jerked around, the movie develops into a tragic romance that is so overblown it’ll likely draw titters from the peanut gallery and mass watch-checking from the everyone else.

Through it all, Will Smith stands tall and strives valiantly to entertain. He’s actually quite good here, fearlessly kidding his family-friendly image and being pretty darn winning in the process. Jason Bateman is equally on par, essentially holding the film together with his well-executed straight-man routine. On the other hand, I don’t really know what to say about Charlize Theron. Half of the film consists of her giving ridiculously over-the-top reaction shots in the presence of Hancock, hammering home that a “Big Plot Twist” is on the horizon. I half expected her to jump off the screen and plop down into the seat next to mine, where she could then nudge me knowingly in the ribs every ten seconds. Her work in the latter part of the film, when she is actually given dialogue, is passable, but was overshadowed by the story sending my Preposterousness Meter screaming into the red.

By all appearances, Hancock wreaks of the work of a desperate studio who, needing a July 4th tent-pole film, have taken an edgy comedy and cut and slashed it into something resembling bland family entertainment. When one observes the abundance of plot-threads and ideas shoe-horned into such a scant running time, you know something is rotten in Tinseltown. If anyone ever decides to assemble a detailed behind-the-scenes expose on the backstage politics going on during Hancock’s production, it’ll be a worthwhile Amazon purchase.

Hancock is a complete belly-flop of a film that lacks a single justification for its own existence. This season has already seen two superior super-powered epics in Iron Man and The Incredible Hulk, and with the impending Dark Knight and Hellboy II, Hancock is utterly outclassed. At this point in the game, the super-hero film bar is at such a lofty level that franchise hopefuls have a zero margin for error. The people behind Hancock shot themselves in the foot the second they fired it out of the gate half-cocked.

1.5 out of 5


P.S.: Imagine what Bad Santa's Terry Zwigoff could have done with this project... *Sighs*.

Film Review - GET SMART: Missed It By That Much...

Since the mid-nineties, the “reimagining” of classic (and not-so-classic) television shows as feature film events has been a spotty and questionable trend. For every spectacular The Fugitive or amusing Brady Bunch Movie, we’ve been subjected to a plethora of sub-human atrocities such as Scooby-Doo, Flintstones or Car 54, Where Are You?. However, being less than intimately familiar with the source material, none of these films touched me on a deeper level. I could never throw on my fanboy hat and passionately champion or deride them for how successful they were in manipulating beloved memories of my past. Until now, at least.

Get Smart was a weekly ritual for my good friend David and I during the latter years of elementary school. The assorted misadventures of bumbling Maxwell Smart (Don Adams) and mod-chic Agent 99 (Barbara Feldon), agents of CONTROL battling the sadistic forces of KAOS, were slyly hilarious hodgepodges of spy-movie satire and top-notch slapstick, which played directly to my juvenile tastes. Sadly though, Get Smart hasn’t had a particularly strong shelf life, and indeed seemed lost in the annals of TV’s golden days. Or at least it was, until Warner Bros. decided to retrofit Get Smart into a multi-million dollar summer blockbuster.

Get Smart Version 2.0 now features former-40-Year-Old Virgin Steve Carell donning Maxwell’s reliable shoe-phone. However, unlike the earlier incarnation, his Maxwell Smart is a lot more competent this time around. When the film begins, he’s an ace CONTROL information analyst who dreams of being a field agent akin to the dashing Agent 23 (Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson). This fantasy is shattered, alas, by The Chief (Alan Arkin), who feels Smart is too valuable an asset to risk in the field. Nevertheless, after CONTROL is infiltrated and nearly destroyed by a KAOS mole, the hopeful agent is promoted and teamed with the alluring Agent 99 (Anne Hathaway), an experienced operative with little patience for Max’s over-zealous and seemingly clueless methods. Yet, as is usually the case, respect and attraction gradually blossom as the two become entrenched in the villainous plot, presided over by head-baddie Siegfried (Terence Stamp), and must work together to expose the mole and save the world from impending doom.

Now, I am well aware that the majority of you wading through this review have little familiarity with the 60’s TV show. So, instead of succumbing to the temptations of unbridled geekiness, I’ll avoid going into torturous details regarding accuracy, and instead inform you that Get Smart, despite flashes of brilliance, is not the thriving success it deserves to be. There is a dual-personality at work here, that can’t decide whether to give emphasis to comedy or action, and lacks the confidence to truly commit to either. Director Peter Segal, the maestro behind films such as Tommy Boy, 50 First Dates and The Longest Yard, is competent, but the film cries out for a master’s deft touch.

Steve Carell has been in some ill-fitting comedic roles as of late. In fact, his filmic output led to me creating a litmus test for judging his performances, as well as the strength of the script. He tends to have an unusual proclivity for screaming nonsensically in films that don’t give him enough comic material to work with. Hence in disasters like Evan Almighty he acted like a deranged mental patient who had managed to slip through the gates during puzzle time. Fortunately, the scream quotient is kept to a reasonable level in Get Smart, and Carell is actually an inspired casting choice. He understands how to deliver well-aimed zingers with a mix of understatement and sincerity, and his chemistry with Hathaway, who shows surprisingly strong comedic chops, is flawless. It’s a testament to their talents that they even make this flick’s dramatic moments feel genuine, when they are actually pretty hokey.

The supporting cast, while nicely eclectic, is a little shakier. Dwayne Johnson gives probably his strongest performance to date, nicely immersing himself into the film’s zaniness. In addition, Alan Arkin is on fire, delivering the biggest laughs in the film. On the flip side, villain Stamp is fairly lifeless, and comedians David Koechner and Terry Crews fail to add any zing to their “madcap” CONTROL field agents. James Caan, as the president, does a decent George W., but that parody exceeded its Best-Before-Date years ago.

To be fair, Get Smart is extremely watchable. It’ll make a decent rental in a couple months. But as a reason to go to the movies, it doesn’t quite connect. The actors are dedicated, but the laughs aren’t consistent and the action set-pieces are unremarkable. This franchise has a lot of potential, and I hope the filmmakers work out the kinks in the inevitable sequel. Diehards and casual viewers will likely agree that Get Smart would benefit from being a whole lot, well, smarter.

2.5 out of 5

Film Review - THE HAPPENING: Pure Shrubbish

Dear M. Night Shyamalan,

I’ve been a fan of your work for many years now, and one of the rapidly dwindling few who acknowledge your mastery for creating on-screen suspense. Those early Hitchcock comparisons were not wildly off-base. The Sixth Sense was obviously hugely successful (deservedly), but I actually thought that your follow-ups Unbreakable and Signs were equally, if not more, efficient. They showed a level of directorial subtlety and control (atypical in mainstream cinema) which, even in the flawed yet entertaining The Village, was eerily effective in creating a mood of unease. Now, we all know Lady In The Water was a dismal trainwreck (People just can’t take the word Narf seriously), so I was really psyched when I started hearing that your latest work, The Happening, would be a return to form. Well, having now just endured that film, I have only one question for you: What in the name of Haley Joel Osment were you thinking?

Now, on paper I can sort of see why you felt this story might work. I agree that it would be really frightening if people began inexplicably going gonzo and committing suicide. I can also recognize that, in casting Mark Wahlberg, you were continuing your tradition of using straight-edged, stoic male leads to help ground the far-out premise. It worked with Bruce Willis and Mel Gibson, right? While I struggled to accept him as a high school science teacher, I was more than willing to oversee this trivial nitpick. However, as the plot persisted, with Wahlberg’s Elliot Moore, along with his moody wife (Zooey Deschanel) and math instructor best friend (John Leguizamo), fleeing a rapidly degenerating Philadelphia, things started gettin’ goofy. Really goofy.

See, we all knew right off the bat what was causing the epidemic. The advertisements have made it blatantly clear, as do you with the endless shots of trees and grass blowing in the wind, that Mother Nature is the culprit. It worked out pretty good for your idol Hitchcock when he made The Birds forty-five years ago, so why shouldn’t it work again! Well, because there are few things less terrifying than swaying foliage (Except maybe chipmunks, although they have those sharp teeth...), and you never really found a way to solve that inherent dilemma.

Audiences will accept many things on faith. They are unlikely, however, to watch the former Marky Mark try to pacify a house plant without engaging in disbelieving laughter. The Happening has a lot of moments like that, and I quickly found myself joining in. For example, that scene with the nutty shotgun-wielding recluse making a gruesome example of two aggressive teens didn’t leave a dry eye in the house. Equally popular was the suicidal zoo keeper feeding his arms to a pair of lions, along with Wahlberg and co. attempting (and almost succeeding) to outrun the wind! By the time Betty Buckley (channeling Mrs. Bates?) showed up as a loony outsider harshly accusing Elliot of “eyeing her lemon drink”, I had given up and surrendered to the silliness.

While I suspect you weren’t intending to craft a worthy successor to Nic Cage’s camp-tastic The Wicker Man, it seems you’ve just done that. The internet folk are already referring to this calamity as The Crappening, which, you have it admit, is kind of amusing. I think it’s time for you to take a break from screenwriting and collaborate with some other talented individuals. You’ve got a good eye! Find a decent script and remind us why we loved you in the first place! Because lord knows, after The Happening dies down, you’re going to be in desperate need of a comeback...

Best wishes for a speedy recovery,

Cam

1.5 out of 5

Film Review - THE INCREDIBLE HULK: Hulk? Smash!

Remember all the hoopla that surrounded Marvel Comics’ Iron Man weeks, even months before its release? The endless magazine articles, trailers and Superbowl spots, coupled with feverishly optimistic predictions and speculation by nerds the world over? Well, while ol’ Iron Man was cake-walking into the warm glow of universal adulation and box-office triumph, the production of Marvel’s second major feature, The Incredible Hulk, was being met with a mix of scorn and pithy nay-saying. Including from yours’ truly.

See I, like many, still feel the sting of 2003, when Ang Lee’s initial incarnation of the Hulk lurched awkwardly onto screens. A bloated and often depressing film that drowned the great beast’s rage in a sea of pseudo-Freudian gobbledygook (Personified by a dishevelled and frenzied Nick Nolte); it was a major downer that seemed to act as a premature end to the Big Green’s film career. But it seems that the jolly folks of Marvel weren’t going to let little things like poor numbers and audience apathy get in the way of the franchising of one of their top comics properties (After Spider-Man and the X-Men), and to their credit they have successfully delivered one of the most joyously exhilarating spectacles of the season (thus far).

The film opens with booming confidence, re-introducing the audience to the Hulk’s world through an electrifying opening credits sequence. On top of being a top-notch primer, it is also really effective visual storytelling. We are shown brief flashbacks of events that we’ve never actually seen, as this film has no connection to the previous film, yet which catches us immediately up to speed.

Opening with a long, awe-inducing helicopter shot that follows an endless mass of poorly-constructed shacks up a Brazillian hillside, we are instantly immersed in the film’s world. It just so happens to be something of a lonely place, occupied by one very tired and tormented man named Bruce Banner. Played by Edward Norton, with the right level of gravitas, Banner is on the run from the U.S. Military forces overseen by the dogged General Ross (William Hurt), who wants to use his DNA for weapons experiments. Ross has hand-picked a team of top-agents, including a Russian British forces import named Emil Blonsky (Tim Roth).

After Banner’s blood is inadvertently shipped back to the U.S. in a soda bottle (Don’t ask), the military killjoys track Banner down and we are treated to a kinetic chase through the rooftops and streets of Rio, a scene which owes more than a little to The Bourne Ultimatum. After an initial Hulk-out and escape, Banner heads back to America, where is aided by his scientist sweetie, Dr. Betty Ross (Liv Tyler) – The General’s daughter. While the two search for a cure for Bruce’s spinach-coloured alter ego, Blonsky plays guinea pig for the General’s genetic enhancement experiments. As this is a comic-book, all does not go well and Blonsky eventually ends up horrifically Hulk-ified, leading to the film’s culmination: a spectacular Harlem-based throwdown between the two ginormous green-machines.

Now I was dubious when press releases stated that Louis Leterrier, the mastermind behind The Transporter (an overstylized piece of ADD junk), would be holding the Hulk’s reigns this go-around. Usually the better superhero flicks are produced by less action-oriented directors, but in this case Leterrier is an inspired choice. Since The Incredible Hulk is structured as a chase film, his energetic shooting style is perfectly employed in cranking up the tension and hitting all the necessary action beats. It’s a great looking picture that has a level of style and verve in its action scenes that wasn’t quite as obvious in the more wittily entertaining Iron Man.

The actors are all perfectly cast, and play their roles well. Norton trumps Eric Bana’s bland Hulk ’03 performance, capturing the haggard torment and sharp intellect of Banner. He makes the dramatic scenes feel real and even when he disappears into a storm of pixels, his spirit remains present. Liv Tyler has somewhat of a thankless role, but manages to infuse Betty with a keen intelligence that complements her vulnerable beauty. Roth’s Blonsky is more interesting, a hubris-driven professional killer whose increasingly evident weaknesses and determination spell out his fate. Roth never goes too far, yet makes us almost feel bad for the guy when things start getting... ugly. In addition, Tim Blake Nelson has a wonderfully bizarre bit part as a biologist who just may have a solution for Banner’s problems. Hints that he may play a bigger role in future instalments filled me with geeky glee.

Clocking in at a touch less than two hours, The Incredible Hulk perfectly encapsulates what a summer movie should be. It’s swift, funny and dramatically satisfying, with furiously thrilling effects and enough in-jokes to please any die-hard Marvel fan. This Hulk’s a smash!

4 out of 5

Film Review - THE STRANGERS: This Flick Let's It's Fright Flag Fly!!!

The horror genre has been something of a laughing stock for the last few years. With only a small handful of genuinely effective films, including The Mist, 28 Weeks Later and the recent update of The Hills Have Eyes, the fright flag has mostly been carried by an endless parade of toned down scare-free remakes and morbid disgust-a-thons, such as the Saw and Hostel series. Well it’s nothing short of a perverse miracle that The Strangers, the latest attempt at separating the audience from their lunch, is a cringingly efficient throwback to the glory days of seventies horror.

Starring Liv Tyler and Scott Speedman, and directed by newbie Bryan Bertino, The Strangers takes its cue from an assortment of classic genre staples, yet manages to make effective use of its barf bag full of clichés. The movie’s foreboding mood is immediately established when a rumbling death croak on the soundtrack informs us that the story we’re about to endure “is based on true events”. Now “true” is a relative term in horror-land, and indeed we can recall that the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre opened the exact same way back in 1974, but this simple bit of description is effective as it grounds the film in a recognizable, though eerie, reality.

Also essential in immersing the audience in gloominess is the nicely naturalistic performances. Playing a couple in the middle of an emotional crisis, Tyler and Speedman never overact or reach for unnecessary high-notes. As the two mournfully wander, in near silence, around the world’s most under-lit farmhouse in the wee hours of the morning, their emotions are communicated to the audience through behaviour and body language, as opposed to clunky exposition. While they aren’t the cheeriest duo to hang out with, we feel close to them, and grow even more involved when a trio of masked lunatics, led by an individual that bears an unmistakable resemblance to Batman Begins’ sinister Scarecrow, descend upon them. Initially making their presence known through abrupt loud knocking and pounding sounds, it isn’t long before their game gets deadly and menacing hands start searching the woodshed and kitchen drawers for the necessary tools of the trade. What happens next is best left unsaid, although I will admit that it isn’t overly pleasant.

Despite having never helmed a feature film before, Bertino shows a control over his material that is far beyond his years. Filtering his ghastly happenings through murky browns and straw yellows, he nicely recaptures the atmosphere of the great hillbilly horror films of the seventies, as well as John Carpenter’s original Halloween. He also shows a decent knack for staging shockingly effective scare moments that will jolt you from your seat. While I do find his over-reliance on shaky hand-held camera moves unnecessary, it’s a minor quibble. I have to admit that Bertino’s few shortcomings are gruesomely redeemed by one of the most effective and applause-worthy shotgun slayings I’ve ever witnessed... And sadly, I’ve seen more than my share.

While a great deal of the credit for The Strangers’ fear-soaked environment falls at Bertino’s feet, the real unsung hero of the film is the sound design team. Through an increasingly aggressive background of foreboding ambience, the team create a setting that drips with dread and white knuckle tension. As well, composing team tomandandy provide a nicely complimentary score which ratchets up the pressure at all the right moments.

Amongst all the chaos, the presence of Liv Tyler stands tall. One of the more underrated actresses working today, she lets her soulful blue eyes do the heavy lifting. Chillingly alternating between distressed survivor and emotionally wounded innocent, she infuses her somewhat thankless role with a level of sophistication and professionalism far removed from typical horror-film heroines. She’s our guiding force in the film, and her frightened performance makes the darker moments all the more potent.

Scott Speedman, an actor infamous for projecting blandness, has finally found a film that makes good use of his vanilla delivery. His subdued emotions nicely match The Strangers' sombre opening developments, as well as the later unending terrors. He may not have much range, but he makes a good anchor for the material.

Seeing The Strangers in a theatrical setting is a necessity if you are interested in enduring a film of this nature. The film’s scare tactics are designed for state-of-the-art audio and picture quality, and a responsive audience will make all the difference. Bryan Bertino has crafted a nastily efficient little B-movie that deserves some attention. It left me feeling wrung out and tired, but appreciative of the skill involved. It also left me optimistic that, with less homage-driven material, Bertino may just have what it takes to become the next horror-film icon. Bloody good show, young man.

3.5 out of 5

Film Review - YOU DON'T MESS WITH THE ZOHAN: Hair Pollution!

You know, sometimes I just don’t understand what the heck is going through Adam Sandler’s head. He’s a funny guy with natural charisma and, I would guess, a reasonable level of intelligence. So why does he feel compelled to write and produce films of such appallingly low quality? It worked with his initial efforts, Billy Madison and Happy Gilmore. Those two films defied any sense of logical criticism. They were sloppy, yet contained a maniacal sense of anarchic glee. He seemed thrilled at what he was getting away with. Yet, since the release of those films over a decade ago, he has continued to crank out by-the-numbers mediocrity that lacks any feeling of comic discovery.

It is with great displeasure that I have to inform you that his latest, You Don’t Mess With The Zohan, is by far his most wretchedly awful film to date. Sandler’s character this time, a Mossad agent who dreams of being a hairdresser, would probably fill a lame Saturday Night Live skit, but stretched to over 100 minutes is akin to Chinese water torture.

Zohan isn’t any normal secret agent; he’s a walking caricature of crass Middle Eastern stereotypes and sniggering vulgarity. With a Wham!-inspired haircut and a penchant for shtupping elderly women, he finds employment at a small salon run by the sweet, yet blank, Dalia (Emmanuelle Chriqui), a Palestinian woman with no patience for Zohan’s sexism. As can be predicted, despite their antagonistic relationship, they soon are yearning to “make the bam-boom”. Their insipid love story intermingles with a laugh-free subplot featuring Zohan’s nemesis the Phantom (John Turturro) and a hapless Arab cab-driver (Rob Schneider, ladies and gentlemen...) ineptly planning murder attempts.

Now, racial stereotyping and crude humour can be used to great comic effect in the proper hands. The makers of Borat toed the line brilliantly, delivering great vulgar hilarity mixed with social commentary. You Don’t Mess With The Zohan is not even in the same time zone, much less ballpark. The film is amazingly hostile and mean-spirited, mocking its targets with unfiltered scorn for the majority of the running time, yet tacking on a “we’re all the same” message at the end. It’s like the school-yard bully who beats the snot out of you all semester but wishes you a good summer at when vacation time rolls around. Why did no one involved in this debacle pull Sandler aside and gently suggest that this material was unfilmable?

Also concerning is the amount of animal abuse presented for cheap laughs. There is a particularly soul-killing scene featuring Zohan and two friends playing hacky-sack with a cat. Now, a good writer would use this undeniably objectionable act as a springboard to a larger pay-off. That would redeem the bad taste and warrant the scene’s inclusion. Not here however, where the only apparent joke is that a trio of grown men are kicking the stuffing out of a helpless animal.

What is almost fascinating about Zohan is how little interest the screen-writers have in their own story. New storylines are launched at random to replace the ones running out of gas. I couldn’t believe that the introduction of an evil land-developer to the film occurred near the end of the second act. It would seem that writers’ Sandler, Judd Apatow, and Robert Smigel knew that their material was limited and hoped that by padding it liberally, no one would notice. Hence, the heavy helping of crotch close-ups, homophobia, hummus jokes, and dry humping present. As well, the endless cameos come off as desperate and pointless, although it is amusing that Mariah Carey has finally found a fitting companion piece for Glitter.

To call You Don’t Mess With The Zohan a misfire is a grand understatement. It’s a dreary trudge through poorly staged migraine-inducing “comedy” that is all the more unforgivable considering the level of talent involved. There’s an old adage that it takes true skill and artistry to create a truly horrific film, as hacks will only produce bland mediocrity. Well, Zohan is a colossal achievement, a film that will receive endless mentions on “Worst of 2008” lists, and the rants of legions of angry ticket-buyers. With that said though, Sandler may have inadvertently found a point of agreement for Israelis and Palestinians. I think that both sides would agree that You Don’t Mess With The Zohan flat-out SUCKS!

1 out of 5

Film Review - INDIANA JONES AND THE KINGDOM OF THE CRYSTAL SKULL: The Whip Don't Quite Crack Like It Used To...

For the past decade the return of Indiana Jones to film-screens has been speculated and discussed with more religious fervour than the Holy Grail and the Ark of the Covenant combined. As time marched on though, it seemed less and less likely to ever develop past the point of fan-fiction. However, occasionally miracles happen in that little town of Hollywood, and Harrison Ford, Steven Spielberg and George Lucas all threw their battered fedoras into the ring once more to bring us the latest Dr. Jones adventure, Indiana Jones And The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull.

A lot has changed since we last saw Indy and crew ride into the sunset at the end of The Last Crusade, most importantly the demise of the Nazi threat. This time around it’s those blasted Commies, led by a dominatrix-like Cate Blanchett, up to no good, and seeking to capture unlimited power in the form of the cheesy-looking skulls of the title. Indy, initially forced into aiding the Russians, is soon racing to beat them to the prize, aided by a mysterious young greaser of dubious lineage named Mutt (Shia LaBeouf). Along the way they are joined by friends old and new, such as Karen Allen, resurrecting her Raiders Of The Lost Ark character Marion Ravenwood, Ray Winstone as Indy’s shifty accomplice, and a loopy old professor played by John Hurt.

Now, before digging into the details I’ll answer the million dollar question. No, Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull doesn’t come within spitting distance of the level of quality accomplished by the first three series entries. It’s a reasonably competent adventure film with a few really entertaining set-pieces and enough tongue-in-cheek humour to (sort of) warrant its existence. If it were a National Treasure sequel it’d be a revelation, however as an Indy film it’s a bit disappointing.

When Indy IV clicks though, especially in the action sequences, there is a palpable sense of the classic magic that emanated from the original films. The first major scene, a Soviet-led Area 51 break-in, crackles with an excited sense of joy, as Ford swings from the rafters and engages in some nicely staged fisticuffs. As well, a jungle-set vehicle chase, while a little too heavy on CG (a major stumbling block for the film), contains more inventiveness than most of the films that the series inspired.

It’s unfortunate that the script, by David Koepp, lacks a firm grasp on how to pull all the narrative threads together. The film relies far too heavily on exposition, having Indy deliver long, tortured explanations regarding the crystal skulls, and their usage, history, etc. In previous films the artifacts were simply used as character motivation, with little information necessary. I dare anyone to try and recall anything of consequence about Temple Of Doom’s Sankara stones. The long-winded middle section of this film stifles the energy that is so vital to the enterprise.

Spielberg and Lucas seem desperate to make every event in the film bigger and more cartoonish than their predecessors, which hurt the film in a number of ways. The computer-aided immensity of the environments takes away from the intimacy of the series. Whereas previous adventures were filmed in real locations, which lent an aura of believability, the backdrops here just look... Fake. Also, whose idea was it to make the creepy-crawly scene here in CG? Lucas, no doubt. Animated insects have never been less threatening. The CG gophers I can (barely) forgive, but the finale flat-out doesn't work. It's big, but lacks wonder. And why is Winstone's character suddenly struck a paraplegic???

With those complaints notes, I must admit that the actors all seem to be having fun, with Ford typically engaging, however it’s LaBeouf who gives the standout performance. He completely understands the tone of the film and matches it accordingly. Winstone, Allen and Hurt inject good humour into their underwritten parts, while Blanchett is something of a frustration. The actress is game, but she never gets an iconic villainous moment, and her come-uppance is extremely underwhelming.

As an immediate experience, Indy IV is engaging and breezy, with a light-hearted appeal that most mega-blockbusters lack. It’s only in retrospect that the numerous flaws (a few of which I mentioned) become apparent. While I don’t think the film was necessary, or enriches the series in any way, I must say that I enjoyed my time at the Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull and suspect you might as well.

3 out of 5

P.S.: I can't believe I'm saying this, but Spielberg would have been wise to look to Sylvester Stallone for inspiration. With Rocky Balboa and Rambo Stallone demonstrated how to properly deliver follow-ups to long dormant franchises. He understood that you need to strip the iconic character down to his basic essence and place him in a story that emphasizes his mythic qualities. Indy IV needed to be more intimate and scaled back and not a tired attempt at meeting the typical bloated aesthetic standards of the modern blockbuster. Judging from fan reactions to the film, this theory has serious validity...