Film Review - DECEPTION: Don't Deceive Yourself Into Seeing This Piece Of Suckage!!!

It’s a telling sign when a major star vehicle is dumped into a busy box-office weekend with little advertising or buzz. Occasionally it’s due to a studio’s blind ignorance towards a good film, such as last year’s The Assassination of Jesse James, but the majority of the time it is because the film is an inept disaster. Deception belongs in the latter category, a clumsy erotic thriller that curiously fails to be either erotic or thrilling.

The film introduces us to Jonathan McQuarry (Ewan McGregor), a nebbish accountant for Manhattan’s most under-populated corporate office. One late night he is befriended by sleazy lawyer Wyatt Bose (Hugh Jackman) who decides to help Jonathan break his routines and find some excitement in life. He does this by “accidentally” switching cell phones with the clueless accountant, and providing him the opportunity to join a secret high-profile sex club, where professionals of all walks of life meet anonymously in sparse, high priced hotel rooms to engage in poorly staged, slow-motion sexual activities. Despite the initial glee Jonathan experiences, he soon falls for one of his dates, a mysterious woman played by Michelle Williams. Their date goes horribly wrong however, and soon Jonathan is on the run, while Wyatt’s sinister motivations are revealed.

The basic set-up of Deception has a certain lurid potential. However, the sex club material is extremely poorly handled, and not really necessary to the central plot of the film. Wyatt and Jonathan could have joined a skeet-shooting fraternity and the story would not have suffered. This conceit could be forgiven if the twists which populate the film weren’t so frustratingly mundane. Screenwriter Mark Bomback, who penned last summer’s Live Free or Die Hard, seems unable to reveal a single surprise without telegraphing it twenty minutes earlier.

Equally guilty is first time director Marcel Langenegger, who over-stylizes the film to the point of parody. He engages in endless slow-motion tracking shots of long-stretching hallways, and lingers pointlessly over every sheer white surface in the film. As well, every character is cloaked in shadows at all times, even when standing in broad daylight on a tennis court. This effect is especially damaging to the erotic aspect of the film.

Deception is filled with beautiful women, Michelle Williams obviously, but also Maggie Q. and Natasha Henstridge, all of whom have never looked worse. Done up like aging Southern Californian porn-stars and draped in eighties Skinemax queen Shannon Tweed’s cast-off’s, they immediately recall to mind the Seinfeld episode where Jerry was dating the woman who appeared hideous in certain lighting. It’s extremely difficult to build up any sort of sexually-charged atmosphere when the participants look like the sort of folks you’d see lurching towards you drunkenly at closing time. It also doesn't help matters that they are all one-note roles with little screen time.

The men fare no better, with McGregor in particular giving perhaps his worst performance to date. It’s hard enough to image McGregor as a socially-retarded nerd, but he doesn’t help matters with his painfully hilarious American accent. Using a bland monotone, which occasionally betrays his Scottish heritage, he frequently slips into a full-on Woody Allen impression in moments of extreme emotion. Whether hearing him whine about his desire to “consummate the deepest human needs”, or pleading for an “honest to God conversation”, he’s a character begging to be in a farce. In addition, his character plays two scenes in tightie-whities. Didn't anyone remember the golden rule: boxers for drama, briefs for comedy? Yeesh.

Jackman is also wasted, although he at least has a bit more fun. He plays up the creep-factor of his character, and at least hints at an affinity for playing figures of questionable morality. I’d like to see him take on a similar role in a film devoid of dramatic scenes of high-stakes accounting and cheesy moments ripped from The Red Show Diaries.

Deception is an unequivocal failure on every possible level, and an early candidate for the worst of 2008. In retrospect though, it’s appropriate that a major plot twist centers on faulty plumbing, as Deception is nothing less than cinematic sewage.

1 out of 5

P.S.: I love how the marketing department copycatted the film's poster from last year's infinitely superior Hugh Jackman film The Prestige. I suppose that when your movie sucks this bad your only hope is to play on people's fondness for better films. Hopefully it backfires and instead inspires the public to just go and rent the Chris Nolan film.

G.I. Blows

Wow. What a difference a couple weeks makes. Recall, if you will dearest reader, a time when the world was enthusiastic and optimistic about the impending (Summer 2009) G.I. Joe film. Why, I myself posted a gushing entry about the recently released photos of Ray Park as Snake-Eyes. Sure, it was no Jonathan Pryce, but still... Well, as can happen in this age of internet-driven fandom, joy has quickly turned to bitter, bitter rage.

See, everyone was happy with Snake-Eyes. More than happy. Prancing across the meadows like a school girl on the first day of horse camp. "Dead on!" was the general consensus. Funny though, just as people were lowering their guards, pulling oft-derided director Stephen Sommers into the warm bosom of nostalgic afterglow, the marketing department released another photo. It was of Rachel Nichols as Scarlett. I didn't post it. All fanboy ecstasy silenced. There was a palpable feeling of "Huh. It looks just like Snake-Eyes costume... Black rubber with fake muscles... Like X-Men... Well, I hope they don't ALL look like that...” Well good folks, what can I say? Stephen Sommers never fails to not disappoint, and the massive amount of leaked photos today proves just that.

As you can see, by ignoring my chatter and just looking at the pretty pictures, every character looks almost exactly the same! Like they went to the Schumacher boutique and stocked up on clichés. These photos of Channing Tatum (Duke) (Right), Rachel Nichols (Top-Right) and Marlon Wayans (Ripcord) (Left) are all identical to the Snake-Eyes design. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at Sommers' lack of creativity. Van Helsing was proof enough. But still, it’s hard not to be a tad crestfallen at the sheer lack of effort present.

But ignoring the bondage gear, what the hell is up with Dennis Quaid (Hawk) (Below Left)? Dude looks absolutely embarrassed. Jaws 3-D mortified. Is this the best we can offer to veterans of The Day After Tomorrow and Undercover Blues? Rather than spend his golden years in some respectable art films or playing supporting bits in classy Hollywood fare, Quaid is stuffed into a campy ill-fitting army suit. Can you feel his shame from looking at this photo? It's uncomfortable and makes me sad. He may lead the Joes, but he still looks like a man who decided to try on his High School Halloween costume. It’s such a trainwreck that I want you to just look at it for a second. Click on it for a full screen and see if it burns your retinas as bad as mine. You can practically see his soul dying! LOOK AT IT!!!

Hmmm, so anyways, the blonde chickaroo is apparently a Victoria's Secret model (whom Sommers' probably "auditioned") named Karolina Kurkova (Right). I have no idea who she's playing. IMDB claims that it’s a character named Courtney A. Kreiger. Seeing as how she's 16th billed, I don't think it really matters who she is. Still, her costume is the least painful as it is the most generic. Thank the lord for small mercies.

That just leaves the bad guys for last. Is there a less intimidating presence than Sienna Miller (Left with Lee) in Matrix-like black leather??? Girl's 5'5, built like a waif, and rocking a really bad wig. Couldn't they at least have cast someone even semi-threatening? Gina Gershon could've done wonders, but I guess she would have been far over the cast's general age of 26... (Not including Quaid. We all know he's the father figure here.). My guess is that the production company was so thrilled to get someone with semi-competent acting chops that they were more than willing to ignore the blatant miscasting. Funny how she and Rachel Nichols look like the Blandsie twins...

As well, we have Storm Shadow. At least I think that's who it is, as Storm Shadow wears a mask... Whatever, I'll just assume he'll put it on for fight scenes and such. I dunno, Byung-hun Lee looks like a fine choice but the outfit is, again, like a bad Matrix rip. Why overcomplicate things? Just put him in a white ninja-suit and people would be thrilled! Instead, we get a goofy leather get-up that looks too "designed". Whatever, I said I'd post Storm Shadow, here he is.

I was sorta looking forward to posting released photos as they appeared and geeking out over them along with the rest of you. Not gonna be the case now. I'll still post Cobra Commander and Destro when they are leaked, but it'll be in a sparse little blurb at the bottom of a story on something more worthy of my invaluable time. Like The Love Guru. Or Meet Dave.

I'm still kinda optimistic that G.I. Joe will be a fun nostalgia kick, but it’s hard to have much faith when the earliest releases are this bad. I hope you disagree with me, but I suspect you don't. Only one thing can turn this whole fiasco around: Jonathan Pryce as The President pics! You know what I'm talking about!

Later folks. I'll see about the possibility of a Forgetting Sarah Marshall review this week. As well, I'm pretty much locked for a review of the Hugh Jackman/Ewan McGregor "erotic thriller" (Oh dear...) Deception (Isn't that a great title?). See you soon and thanks for stopping by. I'll try to crank these soulless rants out quicker.

R.I.P. Charlton Heston (1924-2008)

I can't believe I'm writing another celebrity obituary... Y'see, when I started this clumsy excuse for tireless movie-related whining I made a pledge to veer stealthily away from anything that focussed on the celebrity aspect of Hollywood. I was in it for the art! And Batman flicks... But, I suppose any true credibility I could have once declared was officially null when I wrote 1200 words on the impending Mummy 3. So, dignity be-damned, I am here tonight to say a few words about a beloved icon of cinema that passed away last night. I'm talkin' bout the Chuck!

Many young people growing up are exposed to certain idols of olde Hollywood which they forever associate with the era's past. Whether it is Judy Garland, Jimmy Stewart or Rory Calhoun, there is an odd sense of magic about them. They lived in a time we, as ignorant youngsters, have no comprehension of. For me, that man was Charlton Heston.

As a wee lad, there was one particular Easter tradition that never failed to elicit indifference from me and my sister. And that was the annual viewing of Ben-Hur. See, my dad attended the theatrical showing of said Hollywood epic back in 1959 and was forever altered. We actually have an old-skool hardcover programme for it around here somewhere. Probably underneath the "How to Raise Problem Children" books (Not me, my sister. I swear!). It was his Star Wars, in a sense. So, his unbridled enthusiasm was projected onto me every year starting when I was about 6 or so. While the film became a beloved favorite over the years, to be honest, at the time all I really recall was being troubled by the slave ship material, and freaked out of my ever-lovin' buster browns by the damn lepers. Oh, I think I thought the chariot race was cool though...

What's funny though, is that while the movie (at the time) wasn't a favorite, I had an odd amount of respect for Mr. Heston. There was a seriousness about him that was also sort of inviting. He could be intense and still give off a weird twinkly glow from his eerily sharp blue eyes. The man personified what I would consider "old movie guys", and yet had a sense of timelessness about him.

Flash forward to now (Roughly 21 years later), I write this blog as an impassioned movie viewer, who lives and breathes the history and future of cinema. I've delved through the careers of untold classic actors, gaining great appreciation for so many that the "good ol' days" had to offer, and yet few project the mythical stature that Mr. Heston did.

He was a man who brought authority and immeasurable weight to any project he did. Sure, it’s easy to cite his Oscar-winning performance in Ben-Hur, The Big Country, or his splendid work in Orson Welles' A Touch Of Evil (As a Mexican!), and preach about his skills in understanding the nuances of his character's psychology. Heck, one could even go into depth about his breakthrough work in 1952's Oscar-winning The Greatest Show On Earth... But that's not the Charlton Heston that I've grown to love over endless hours of movie-going. No, the Heston that means the most to me is the man who appeared in Planet Of The Apes, Beneath The Planet Of The Apes, Soylent Green, and Earthquake. While many actors would have slept-walked through these particular types of genre film, Heston stepped up to the plate and delivered ten-fold. He enhanced the positive qualities within those scripts and helped craft classic entertainments that would prove to outlive the majority of his "serious" work.

His fearlessness in going BIG with those roles signalled his shift from actor into icon. Many imitated his scenery-chewing line deliveries ("SOYLENT GREEN IS PEOPLE!", "IT'S A MADHOUSE! A MAAAAADHOUSE!!!"), but that was only a sign that what he was doing was working. I would argue that he became as similar in legendary status as the great John Wayne and Clint Eastwood. He was a towering figure of pure machismo, free of irony, and a monument to cinema's proud tradition of strong male protagonists. Those fine gentlemen, as well as fellow actors Charles Bronson, Yul Brynner, Steve McQueen and Lee Marvin, paved the way for the 80's boom of the Schwarzenegger’s and Stallone’s. Heck, I can think of few more iconic moments in tough guy history than when ol' Chuck showed up, chompin' stogies, as Arnold's boss in True Lies. It was the recognition of Hollywood past and future. He also inspired one of The Simpsons' greatest characters: Troy McGlure, which also ain't too shabby...

What is sad, however, is that with his passing, we have one less classic Hollywood alpha-male archetype around. The age of self-improvement books, irony, and metro-sexuality have all but put a stake in the heart of the rugged type of masculinity that was once a driving force in entertainment. So, the passing of Heston, for me, also symbolizes the further vanishing of a beloved era of artistic achievement.

Heston was a man who worked hard, and fought for his beliefs no matter how controversial. His status as an NRA spokesman unfairly cast a pall over his later years. You show me an 80-year-old who doesn't hold stubborn conservative beliefs and I'll rethink my position on Batman Forever. So, I'd just like to draw as much attention to Mr. Heston's invaluable voice in promoting civil rights, as well as his outspoken opposition to the Vietnam War. No matter what he was fighting for he did it with complete conviction and unwavering confidence, and I don't think that is something to be flippantly dismissed.

But aside from all that, he was an impassioned performer who changed lives through his work. He gave us a persona that we could root for not matter what the odds. He was effortlessly strong, while never failing to exhibit an emotional connection with the audience. He was one of the best of the old school Boy's Club, and probably one of the reasons I'm inspired to do what I do to this day. So, thanks for the memories, Mr. Heston, and I'll be sure to introduce my own children to one Judah Ben-Hur... Just like I was so many years ago.

P.S.: Extra special thanks for your beyond brilliant cameo in Wayne's World 2. It's been endlessly quoted and pontificated over by my sister and I since 1993. "One perfect day on Gordon Street...."

Coming In July...

Hey folks, I'm gonna get into the summer movie spirit and post a little teaser for an event that will be beginning on Friday, July 11th, and carrying on until The Dark Knight's release on the 18th.

It'll be called "7 Days of the Bat" and it's gonna be fun. Look for it here at Cam's Pop-Culture Episodes this summer.

More to come...

Film Review: DRILLBIT TAYLOR - The Blase Blonde Bungled In Budget Bodyguard Bomb.

Before diving into my review of Drillbit Taylor, I have to make clear my status as a dedicated fan of the work of Mr. Owen Wilson. While the cool kids prefer to only wax poetic over the brilliance of his droll collaborations with director Wes Anderson, best displayed in the acidic The Royal Tenenbaums, I’m one of many who derives equal amounts of joy from Wilson’s carefree Zen-like performances in films like The Wedding Crashers, Meet the Parents, and the criminally underrated Shanghai Noon series. Heck, I even paid to see Behind Enemy Lines and I Spy in theatres, and if that isn’t a declaration of my fandom I don’t know what is.

However, as I’ve followed Wilson’s career, from Armageddon lows to Tenenbaum highs, I’ve come to understand that the success of the Wilson persona depends entirely on the strength of his collaborators. So, when it was announced that Drillbit Taylor would team him with mega-producer Judd Apatow and co-writer Seth Rogen, the devious brainchildren behind the fresh and hilarious trifecta of The 40-Year-Old Virgin, Knocked Up and Superbad, I was nearly giddy with anticipation. Sadly, however, sitting in the darkened theatre my excitement quickly began to dwindle. It’s an established rule that the success of comedy depends heavily on tonal consistency, and in that regard Drillbit is a mess.

It's unfortunate, as the set-up is perfectly serviceable, with Wilson playing the titular character, an aimless drifter and U.S. army deserter, who is hired by three geeky high school freshmen (Nate Hartley, Troy Gentile and David Dorfman) to act as a personal bodyguard against a pair of nasty bullies. Initially seeing the hopeless trio as an easy way of financing his trip to the promised land of northern Canada, he worms his way into their lives, infiltrating their school as a substitute teacher. However, as the viciousness of the bullying increases, Drillbit must decide between friendship and financial gain.

While the plot works on a superficial level, the film is a hopeless study in disjointedness. The world inhabited by the teens and Drillbit is a cheerfully sunny suburban California landscape, where adult authority is nearly non-existent, except for punch-lines and dramatic necessity. As well, the teens are bland carbon-copies of the hilarious Superbad trio (Including a truly pathetic attempt at a mini-McLovin), who are so innocuous that they might as well be members of the Little Rascals. The problem is, these elements clash horribly with the bully subplot, which is so violent that it becomes disturbing. The bully, played by Alex Frost, who starred as a Columbine-like killer in Gus Van Sant’s Elephant (Bizarre type-casting or coincidence?), is so relentlessly grim and psychotic that he drags the film down every time he appears. Bullying is rarely funny, but less so when there are actually attempts at committing murder.

A talented supporting cast of comedic talents also fail to connect. Stephen Root, Adam Baldwin, Frank Whaley, David Koechner and Danny McBride are all wasted, with the audience expected to find hilarity simply in their being there. Only Leslie Mann, as a randy English teacher, manages to consistently deliver. The scenes featuring her and Wilson riffing off each other are sharp and clever, and hint at what the movie really should have been about.

Wilson does what he can, though he has fewer moments of blasé brilliance than usual. It’s always brutal to watch a comedic actor flounder, and the whiff of desperation grows stronger throughout the film. He gets little assistance from director Steven Brill, who continues his streak of slap-dash film-making, as previously on display in the Adam Sandler “classics” Mr. Deeds and Little Nicky.

Drillbit Taylor isn’t a horrible film, simply a woefully misguided one. Here’s hoping that it’s only a temporary set-back for Apatow, and that Owen Wilson will return and amaze us all anew in the forthcoming Night at the Museum 2: Escape from The Smithsonian... Well, I can hope, can’t I?

2 out of 5.

P.S.: Rap battle scenes never have been, or never will be funny. This movie is further proof of that fact. Word.

G.I. JOE: First Publicity Pics A (Snake)EYE-ful

Hey there, just a short update (It's 12:30am and I'm too tired to rattle on like a dementia- crazed Floridian). Now, I'm sure any of you wandering over to this inconsistently updated corner of the web-verse are well educated on the upcoming G.I. Joe film adaptation. It's been covered half to death over at aintitcool.com and the most excellent chud.com. But before I get to the news, an update for the confused.

Stephen Sommers (Pictured right), the mastermind behind the Mummy series and Deep Rising... Not to mention Van Helsing... God, did that movie suck! A joyless exercise in CG buffoonery! Man, those were two hours of my life I'll never get back... You know, I don't know why I'm wasting space talking about anything that goblin hack is associated with! Oh yeah, I remember! See, as much as I dislike the directorial ineptitude of Sommers, I do have a soft spot for G.I. Joe.

Now, when I say I have a soft spot, I am in no way trying to call myself out as a super-fan. I never had many figures or watched the show (My mom wouldn't let me! I know, sacrilege!!!), but I have fond memories of spending hours with my friends Mark, Iain and Ben creating massive efforts of action-figure driven mayhem. So, when I say I look forward to a G.I. Joe movie, it’s for that simple nostalgia of two or three kids sitting on the front lawn imagining violently horrific acts that were probably psychology harming.

But back to the flick, G.I. Joe: The Movie, which is underway now (And due to be released summer 2009). A slight alteration: they are now a global taskforce as opposed to an American power. Probably a good idea for foreign business. So far, the cast includes: Dennis Quaid (Day After Tomorrow, Jaws 3D) as Hawk, Channing Tatum (Step Up) as Duke, Joseph Gordon-Levitt (3rd Rock From The Sun, The Lookout) as Cobra Commander (Apparently a pivotal character in the movie who will begin on the side of good and transform into the bitchy narcissist we know and love by film's end.), Sienna Miller (Stardust, Layer Cake) as Baroness, Rachel Nichols (P2) as Scarlett, Christopher Eccleston (28 Days Later) as Destro (The film's main villain), Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje (!!!) (Get Rich And Die Trying) as Heavy Duty, Marlon Wayans (Scary Movie, Requiem For A Dream) as Ripcord, Arnold Vosloo (The Mummy) as Zartan, Byung-hun Lee as Storm Shadow and most exciting of all: Jonathan Pryce (Pirates Of The Caribbean trilogy) as "The President".

Now let’s delve deeper into that Jonathan Pryce casting! What I've always found fascinating about Jonathan Pryce is his ability to find the emotionally duality of his character. Why, his "President" will no doubt be a scintillating study in the corrupting power of the military industrial complex over political independence...

Oh wait, who cares?! No, let's get to the real enchilada, the reason I'm wasting your time and mine in posting this update. I wanna talk about Snake-Eyes! No, not the Nicolas Cage movie! Though I could happily discuss that wretched Brian DePalma debacle for hours... Anyways, I'm referring, obviously, to everyone's favorite mute, black-clad ninja-assassin. Well, as was announced a while back, he'll be portrayed by Ray Park (Pictured right), he who was Darth Maul and Toad in X-Men, as well as his most popular character: A.J. Ross in Ballistic: Ecks Vs. Sever! Park, a killer martial artist, is frankly the largest reason I'm psyched to see this flick. Snake-Eyes, the biggest fan-fave, has to potential to be an awesome vehicle to show off Park's skills and agility. Hopefully Sommers, after finishing "Directing For Dummies", re-watched Star Wars: Episode I and made notes. Give this guy long shots and long takes. No crappy Bourne-style camera work. No MTV-editing. This is obviously all speculation, as its unlikely Sommers has the ability to write, but I can hope and pray that Park finally gets a good launching pad that could get his first dream project, a film adaptation of Marvel's Iron Fist, off and running.

Oh, and to please you rabid Snake-Eyes fans, here's two awesome shots of Park in full regalia. I'm gonna just post them big, and not scrunch them up amongst my desperate-for-attention yammering. Enjoy.

















Okay guys, that's them! I'll try to post the first Destro and Cobra Commander pics as well whenever they surface. AND I PROMISE to get the first Jonathan Pryce as "President" pics! I can easily squeeze 1000 words outta those! Speaking of which, I'm actually close to that point now, so I'm gonna git to bed. I'm tired and have to work tomorrow. Check back soon for more wacky Jonathan Pryce-related news here as Cam's P.(ryce)-C.(entred) Episodes.





Heh heh heh... You said it, Johnny-boy! You rocked in Tomorrow Never Dies!

Film Review: DOOMSDAY: Director Neil Marshall's DESCENT Into 80's Action Is A Cheeselover's Dream!

To call Doomsday the funniest film you'll see all year may sound like something of an insult, and indeed it sort of is. Brit director Neil Marshall, who helmed and wrote the stylish and frightening 2005 spelunking horror flick The Descent, returns here with what can only be described as a grotesque assemblage of scenes from far better movies. It's like Marshall couldn't select one or two movies to rip off, so he decided to do as many as possible in one gloriously disjointed explosion of carnage and absurdity. The results are campy, over-indulgent, and sometimes oddly brilliant.

But I'm getting ahead of myself here. Doomsday introduces us to a future where the "Reaper Virus" (A mix of Ebola and the 28 Days Later germ) has taken control of the United Kingdom. To combat the problem the government has quarantined the northern half of the continent for the last 30 years. However, in "2035.Now", as the title card slyly reads, the infection has escaped into populated London, while simultaneously survivors have been spotted by satellite living in the infected zone. A heavily armed Special Forces team, led by Eden Sinclair (Rhona Mitra - Pictured right), have just 48 hours to enter the zone and track down the elusive Dr. Kane (Malcolm McDowell) in hopes of finding a cure. The task is complicated immensely by the discovery of a cannibalistic army of nomads (Who like like Maori warriors crossed with the Sex Pistols), which leads to essentially ninety minutes of excessive brutality and ultra-splatter.

To call the plot of Doomsday unoriginal is somewhat of an understatement. Its less a film than a greatest hits package, with assorted bits taken from: The Lord of the Rings, Resident Evil, The Warriors, Escape From New York, Clockwork Orange, Gladiator, The Omega Man, The Mad Max trilogy, Ladyhawke, 28 Days Later, and the Gimp from Pulp Fiction thrown in for good measure. But homages can be a lot of fun when handled properly, and Marshall manages to pull off the majority, with exception to the fight scenes. Despite liberally pilfering elements from a number of better action films, similar scenes in Doomsday are shoddily edited and nearly incomprehensible. The hand-to-hand combat lacks geography and establishing shots, which takes away from the visceral thrills. The car chases fair much better, however, and are a fitting tribute to George Miller’s The Road Warrior.

The lack of truly spectacular action is not favourable when a movie has as bland a plot as Doomsday, and indeed the first quarter of the film is deadly dull. With that said however, all weariness is immediately gone the second cannibal-biker leader Sol, played by a possessed Craig Conway (Pictured right), takes the stage. What follows is a scene of pure, unbridled B-movie glory. As the bikers gather at a Thunderdome-like arena, Sol preens and prances across a stage, lip-synching “Good Thing” by the Fine Young Cannibals, while being backed by gyrating female pole dancers and kilted male Scottish dancers. It’s the best scene in the film, unforgettable in its ludicrousness, and it instantly erases our memories of the tortured earlier scenes.

Its unfortunate that the rest of the actors don’t appear the relish the material as much as Conway does. Star Mitra, while a perfectly capable physical performer, emotes like a Kate Beckinsale clone lacking facial mobility. Bob Hoskins, as Mitra's boss, seems embarrassed to even be here, while Malcolm McDowell gives another hammy performance on par with his appearances in Halloween and Tank Girl. Is it just me or has he not been good since... Um... Clockwork Orange...? Actually, I liked him in Gangster No. 1, but still. Come on Malcom, pull yourself up and do something that isn't sub-Street Fighter. And no, your cameo in In Good Company didn't count.

Despite its many obvious shortcomings, its is very hard to hate Doomsday. It has that goofy 80's John Carpenter spirit that emphasizes cheesy thrills over even a modicum of intelligence. And indeed, its difficult to really dislike any film that treats us to a close-up on an exploding rabbit... Or a decapitated head bouncing off the camera lens... Or a buff heroine outrunning knights on horseback in a 2008 Bentley... Or a... Well, you'll just have to see the rest for yourself. And if you do go, bring friends... And perhaps alcohol if you feel so inclined.

2.5 out of 5

A HULKing Lack of Inspiration

Hey kids, it’s me, Uncle Cam, returning from my schoolwork-imposed exile! While I've been toiling away on scintillating essays on Chaucer, Shakespeare and Virgil, mucho movie stuff has been going on, uncommented on by yours truly. Why, we've seen the release of the brilliant Iron Man, Indiana Jones and Dark Knight trailers, as well as the release of The Hottie and the Nottie! Well, no more shall these important global events go unrecognized, which is why I feel compelled to escape my studies to comment on the newest bit of studio-produced hype: the trailer for The Incredible Hulk!!!

Now, I have made some disparaging comments about this little indie film in the past. I expressed my lack of confidence in the choice of Transporter director Louis Leterrier. As well, I ruminated on the necessity of making a follow-up/reimagining to/of a film that was mostly disliked by comic-fans and hated by the general public. Sure there are exceptions, but for the most part the Ang Lee directed Hulk is viewed as a boring misinterpretation of a classic character with cheesy effects and an unnecessary obsession with Freudian subtext. Oh, and stupid mutant dogs.

This overwhelming annoyance with the "franchise" made a follow-up a risky notion. So, I have to congratulate Marvel and Universal for having the guts to sign on for a 130-million dollar reinvention. That said, one has to wonder about the decision to keep this movie so quiet that no one outside of the fanatical has any idea it’ll be dropping into theatres this summer. While The Dark Knight, Iron Man and Hellboy 2 have been raising awareness throughout the year, building ravenous anticipation, The Incredible Hulk has just been plodding along, seemingly oblivious of the necessity to raise any sense of excitement or awareness. Well, good on them! Sure they put out a bunch of glossy and semi-nifty screen shots, but let’s face it, no one really noticed (or cared). But that time is over, and the marketing brainiacs have stewed up a colossal, bloated CG-crammed monstrosity of a trailer to plug the collective film-going arteries.

View it here:


So, how does it go down?

You know how McDonalds always has photos of magnificent looking hamburgers on their menu wall that when you get them, they look like they were acting as seat cushions for the Grimace? That's The Incredible Hulk trailer in a nutshell. When viewed in screenshots this thing looked promising, but when actually delivered it makes you want to give up solids. Well, almost.

Let's start from the opening, cuz it’s a doozy. We are introduced to the tormented Dr. Bruce Banner (Edward Norton) as he sits in a darkened room, facing a male friend... in front of a roaring fireplace, talking about his "personality problems". Now, I don't know about you, but the duo's locked eye contact and the setting, taken from one of those "Romantic Hits of the 60's" infomercials, gives off a seriously unintentional (?) homo-erotic vibe. I mean, come on! How many guys invite friends over to sit in front of the fire, with all the house's lights turned off??? Stylistic decisions aside, it's never good when a movie trailer like this starts off with bad, ironic laughs.

Anyhoo, what happens next? Well, if I didn't have an understanding of the movie's storyline I wouldn't be able to tell you. Edward Norton appears to be in trouble with the army... And running a lot... And talking in a bland monotone... Oh, and Tim Roth and Liv Tyler keep showing up and not saying anything... What the? Why is Norton jumping out of a helicopter??? Why is Mr. Orange getting stabbed with needles??? What the hell is that??? Wait, what the?... Bah, I'm tired. I'm gonna go watch Everybody Loves Raymond.

But seriously, there is no narrative logic, or true storyline (beyond a vaguely rudimentary sketch) in the content of the trailer. I'll fill you in, though. Liv Tyler is taking over for Jennifer Connelly, playing Banner's love interest Betty Ross, who is also daughter to General "Thunderbolt" Ross (William Hurt - Laughing his way to the bank! - Pictured left). The General wants Banner's DNA secrets for the military. Old Tim Roth, on the other hand, is Emil Bronsky, a Russian spy, who gets injected with Hulk-errific serum and becomes the poorly realized CG-menace, Abomination, shown arbitrarily at the end of the trailer. Banner then must deal with his inner-Hulkness and man up and go save the day. While this is a potentially compelling story, there's no dramatic interest from any of these people here (Other than Norton), and indeed no dialogue from anyone other than the star, save for a single Hurt-driven expositional utterance in the trailer! So, since there is not a single human emotion on display, let’s focus on the Abomination and Hulk himself.

Now, I realize this movie is still over three months from release, but boy do these two CG creations look crappy. Abomination (Pictured right), which interestingly bears zero resemblance to Tim Roth, is borderline embarrassing. His design is okay, in that it is basically just a more organic and solid looking Spidey 3 Sandman copycat, but he has all the weight and charisma of a screensaver. The same goes for the Hulk, who looks half-decent... Until he moves. Then, he becomes a glowing, pixellated cartoon. Both characters have zero screen presence, thus packing all the dramatic power of a PS3 cut scene. Their dramatic clash at the end is so underwhelming that it will likely inspire collective indifference from the masses. It's really sad when the whole selling point of your superhero movie looks about as convincing as Shrek the Third. As well, I have dire suspicions that the specific reason the filmmakers chose to film this whole epic clash of the polygons in pitch darkness was as a desperate attempt to obscure their obviously shaky efforts. Call it Godzilla '98 syndrome.

So, now that I've bitched on this long about a two minute trailer, am I still going to slap down my ten bucks on June 13th? Well, I paid to see Elektra and Ghost Rider, didn't I? Despite my unhinged ranting, I'm actually an optimistic person. A bad trailer does not necessarily equate a bad movie, and vice versa. Heck, I loved the Transformers trailer and look at how that turned out! I hope Norton and crew pull it off and impress the hell out of me. I'll give them a glowing review on here and go door-to-door raising awareness of Hulk! But, on the basis of this supremely lame effort I now have to place The Incredible Hulk in the "Potential Flops" category for summer '08. Oh well, at least Speed Racer and The Love Guru can keep it company.


Wow, that was exhaustive! And soon to be redundant... Oh well, come on back soon, I'll have a review of the upcoming Rhona Mitra post-apocalyptic trashfest (Potentially in a good way!) Doomsday by Wednesday. As well, my now pointless "Best of '07" List.

See ya then.

Film Review: RAMBO - His Hell Is Our Playground.

How does one review a movie like Rambo? It is a blood-soaked, brutal exercise in pain, sadism, and aggression without a hint of irony. To say that it does it better than almost any action film I've seen is almost beside the point. It takes the violent stakes set by First Blood Part II and Rambo III and decapitates them with Panzer tank shells. So, let's start with a look at the Rambo legacy, as it were.

I was fortunate enough to attend the 7+ hour Rambo Marathon at the Scotiabank theatre in lovely downtown Vancouver yesterday evening, where I revisited the entire saga. It's curious the way the series started, with the sad, and dare I say gentle, First Blood. With its meagre kill count of 1, First Blood was a psychological study in thriller trappings. Sure there are some explosions and gun-fights, but ultimately it is a study in one tormented man's personal demons and inability to fit into human society. It's almost comical how Rambo: First Blood Part II takes him to Vietnam and has him wipeout an entire generation of Viet-Cong. It seemingly goes against everything the first film was saying, and embraces the type of gloss that the age of excess demanded. Rambo III is so far over the top that it becomes a droll study in overkill. A fun one, to be sure, but so far removed from its humble beginnings that it's bizarre. After re-reviewing them, however, it is important to note that they are all consistently enjoyable films with nicely understated work by Stallone, and brilliant technical efficiency. So, how does the newest film fit into the established world of John Rambo?

Well, Rambo is, without any doubt, the goriest and most stomach-churning of them all. It also, on the flip side, restores the sadness so well exemplified in the series' first entry. John Rambo is a man constantly in pain whose only ability is to stop evil through sheer, relentless savagery. He's the anti-John McClane. No sneaking around air-shafts for this guy.

Rambo opens with news reel footage of the human rights atrocities in Burma, where the Karen Christians have been systematically slaughtered over the last sixty year (The longest civil war in history!). This real-life touch is both staggering and problematic. The previous Rambo sequels, while they did make use of current political situations, were always in some sort of heightened reality. This opening grounds the film in the real. We then witness the horrific massacre of a tribe of villagers by the Burmese military, and it is stunning. Director Stallone lingers over the violence, making us witness the unspeakable. It is, frankly, shocking.

The basic plot then kicks in. Rambo has been living in Thailand as a snake-wrangler for the last twenty or so years. He is found by a group of Christian relief workers (led by Julie Benz (left with Stallone) and Paul Schulze), and they plead with him to drive them by boat into war-torn Burma so they can aid the suffering. After some coaxing by Benz, he begrudgingly agrees and takes them over. Before you can say "Ballistic Carnage", the group are captured (and also their entire village gruesomely raped/decapitated/torched/shot/exploded/ vivisected/gutted/severed/you get the picture). Back at Rambo's home (and by home I mean hammock), a priest comes and pleads with Rambo to take a group of Church-paid mercenaries to the relief workers' destination so they can extract the workers and get them home. After a soul-searching montage, Rambo suits up and leads the team into action. Much vivid butchery follows.

What I really liked about Rambo was the simplicity of it. It's much like last year's Rocky Balboa, in that it is a lean 90-minute piece with a minimum of plot that relies on the mythic essence of the title character. The plot is a clothes-line and while in many other films that is a major problem, here it is to the films benefit. The characters are mainly archetypes with a minimum of detail, and the villains are mostly faceless. I appreciated the ways in which the mercenaries are sketched out. We know next to nothing about them, other than a few passing bits we get through behaviour. It makes sense. Hired mercenaries are men who thrive on secrecy. They don't communicate with each other more than what is necessary. Much like Rambo himself. As played by the 61-year-old Stallone, he has settled into a nice quiet gruffness which is perfectly suited to the material. Stallone is without question a limited actor, but he is under-appreciated in the ways he can create an internalized character and communicate everything through silence and eye gestures. He plays John Rambo as well here as he did in '82 with First Blood.

As for the action, it is numbing. The human atrocities presented here make the gruesome material of Schindler's List look like gentle ribbing. The villain's are so far past monster status that it is almost uncomfortable. In a sense, by immersing the viewer in their deeds we begin to better understand the psyche of John Rambo. He has witnessed horrors so severe that he has emotionally shut down and lost touch with humanity. Well, after witnessing what the villains do here we share that mindset. The world is an ugly place and sometimes violence is necessary. Whether you agree with the message or not, Stallone makes his message clear and concise. We are so filled with disgust that we want to see Rambo decimate this group beyond reason. The final firefight, which surely is a nod to The Wild Bunch, is roughly twenty minutes of grisly catharsis. Disgusting or not, it delivers exactly what one hopes for after the momentous killing sprees of Rambo's 2 & 3. The ending is a brief downbeat nod to the first film that leaves us with a poetic sense of relief after the exhausting visceral experience we've just undergone.

Many will hate Rambo for being such a blatantly sadistic (and obvious) exercise in brutality. But, it is exactly what it has been marketed and intended to be. That it does it so well is nothing short of commendable after years of PG-13 action-lite extravaganzas. Sylvester Stallone has crafted a mean little film that, while it will never get much critical respect, is a relentlessly pure experience that leaves you breathless and numb by the end. To enjoy it is almost not an option. It is meant to be endured, and I can't help but thank Stallone for creating an action-film that actually made me feel something. It's a fitting end for John Rambo, and a film-going experience I won't soon forget.

4 out of 5

P.S.: While it is odd to have Rambo follow Rambo III, the title fits
the film. It's simple and hard-hitting. Again, much like Rambo himself.

P.P.S.: Richard Crenna's presence is missed, but doesn't detract from the film. Something tells me that even Trautman would have been throwing up his hands halfway through events of this film.