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...

Film Review - THE VISITOR: This One Deserves Some Hospitality.

You probably don’t know Richard Jenkins by name. He’s one of those reliable character actor types who can always be depended on to add a certain amount of low-key professional quality to star-driven vehicles. Whether playing Jamie Foxx’s CIA boss in The Kingdom, Heather Graham’s quadriplegic step-father in Say It Isn’t So, or Charlize Theron’s conflicted dad in North Country, Jenkins has been working steadily and skilfully, showing an impressive range and chameleon-like ability to disappear into a role. It’s not uncommon for these kinds of talented actors to spend an entire career lost in the background. Occasionally though, with proper support, they find themselves occupying the lead role in a truly wonderful piece of cinematic artistry.

It is to our benefit that Jenkins has done just that, starring as an introverted economics professor in the powerful new film The Visitor. His character, Walter Vale, is a man who has withdrawn into his own skin, and become removed from the world around him. It isn’t until he discovers illegal alien couple Tarek (Haaz Sleiman) and Zainab (Danai Gurira) squatting in his New York apartment that the seeds of spiritual rebirth are planted. A frustrated wannabe pianist, Walter grows increasingly intrigued by Tarek’s musical mastery of the African drums. The duo’s bond over a shared love of music is abruptly put to an end, however, when Tarek is arrested and placed in a detention centre. While Walter searches for a legal answer to his friend’s increasingly serious troubles, Tarek’s fiercely independent mother arrives. Played by Hiam Abbass, she further stirs Walter’s emotional growth, and we are treated to one of the most subtly powerful romantic relationships in recent cinematic memory.

The brilliance of The Visitor is its effortless aptitude for presenting a stirring political statement, the frustrations with the post-9/11 U.S. Immigration system, through the lives and interactions of its characters. Writer/director Thomas McCarthy, whose sole previous helming credit was the well-received but little-seen The Station Agent, shows a startlingly well-honed ability to write fascinating three dimensional characters, as well as a deep understanding of natural human comedy. There is not a single false moment over The Visitor’s entire 104-minute duration. We believe these people and are invested in their hopes, dreams and fears. Its amazing work and will likely lead McCarthy towards a prosperous and creatively rich future.

A lion’s share of the credit must also be given to Jenkins. Dressed in drab colors and owlishly peering out through thick frames, Walter hides behind a projected image of overbearing academic superiority. However, the actor allows the viewer to see through the illusion, and into the soul of the character. What we observe there, Walter’s innate goodness and longings for love and acceptance, makes Jenkins’ portrait all the more moving. Pay close attention to the evolution of how he smiles over the course of the film. Initially appearing as insincere reflections of his discomfort they gradually transform to mirror Walter’s acceptance of happiness, particularly in the movie’s powerful music scenes.

The supporting cast is ideal. Haaz Sleiman is a real discovery, emanating good-will and warmth. We can understand why Walter is so taken with him, and thus his unfortunate situation is all the more heart-rending. His ability to enliven the characters around him is sorely missed when he is separated from them. Equally strong is the impassioned performance of Hiam Abbass, who is a perfect match for Walter. Her determined pride and subdued loveliness is a perfect counterpoint for his drab, reserved mannerisms. It’s a rarity in modern films that we can find enjoyment in the simple act of on-screen conversation, but The Visitor makes their verbal communications as riveting as any blockbuster money shot.

It’s unfortunate that this film is being released now, in this season of superheroes and whip-cracking archaeologists, as one has to wonder whether audiences will care about a story as delicate as The Visitor. The performances and direction are so uniformly fantastic that it may have gained more attendees (and awards notices) in the fall season. Regardless, I emphatically urge you to seek out this gem for yourself. Sometimes it’s refreshing to take a break from the CG explosions and view something with substance and a real comprehension of emotional truth. The Visitor is such a film, and it deserves our support.

4.5 out of 5

Film Review - STEEL TOES: David Strathairn Rules This Stage!

Films based on stage-plays have an uncomfortable tendency to rely too heavily on coincidence, stagy set-ups, and histrionic acting. A great translation, such as James Foley’s 1992 scorcher Glengarry Glen Ross, draws the viewer closer into its world, providing a deeper comprehension of motivation and character. A bad interpretation, on the other hand, is invaluable in providing the viewer with a better understanding of the shifts in story-telling that are required in a proper adaptation. The dramatically powerful new film Steel Toes, directed by Montreal-based film-makers Mark Adam and David Gow, and based on Gow’s hit play Cherry Docs, is only moderately successful, but still relatively absorbing.

David Strathairn, the intense hawk-like presence from The Bourne Ultimatum and George Clooney’s Oscar-nominated Good Night, And Good Luck, stars as Jewish lawyer Danny Dunkleman, a fiercely logical and business-minded professional. He is assigned to plead the case of deceptively slow-witted Neo-Nazi skin-head Mike Downey (Andrew Walker), who has viciously attacked and brutally beaten an East Indian immigrant (Ivan Smith). Initially hammering down his client’s bluster with condescension and heavily stated superiority, Dunkleman must go to work in preparing his insensitive client for court. However, he must also face the unexpected changes within himself that result from peeling away the layers of deception that Downey hides behind.

On a purely narrative level, one could easily accuse writer David Gow of simply altering a winning formula to suit his own needs. We’ve all seen similar tales of violent criminals being redeemed by tough mentors before, but Gow seems hardly interested in delivering a sturdy genre entertainment. Rather, he uses his framing device to delve deeply into the souls of his characters, and to engage in endless streams of expressive and insightful dialogue. He’s interested in the true nature of hatred and intolerance, how it changes people, and whether redemption is possible.

In Strathairn he couldn’t have found a better lead. Steely-eyed one second, and on the verge of collapse the next, Strathairn is fearless is creating a compelling portrait of an often distant man whose faith in his own logical and liberal humanist nature is called into question. In one powerful scene, following a particularly expressive meeting with Downey, Dunkleman has a near breakdown over the enthusiastic services of a homeless Squeegee kid. It’s a shattering moment, with a beautifully subtle shift from annoyance into fury, ending in uncontrollable weeping. It’s the type of moment that would be endlessly reused on awards circuit performance reels, and the actor makes us feel every moment of it. Similarly effective is an uncomfortable dinner table scene with his wife (Marina Orsini) and two guests, which uncomfortably swings between irate outbursts and silent, simmering rage.

Andrew Walker isn’t quite in the same league as his seasoned co-star, but he has enough solid material to make his presence known. The actor is quite skilled in raising the annoyance of the viewer. His Mike Downey is a simmering bully with low self-esteem who hides behind a cocky smile and unjustified sense of entitlement. He pushes Dunkleman towards abandoning logic and words and embracing catharsis through violence, and shows an intriguing mastery of manipulation and psychological control. Yet the character’s most telling scene comes when he is in solitary confinement, destroying his cell like a dervish from hell before breaking down into melancholy whimpering. He’s a caged animal, who has lost his humanity to hatred.

While these performances are viciously engaging, there are a number of elements of Steel Toes that prevent the film from being as flawless as its actors. The most harmful element is the resolution of the film, which features Downey’s unconvincing psychological breakdown, followed by abrupt emotional changes in both characters. Strathairn and Walker are committed, and are aiming for the fences, but these developments feel too “writerly” and out of character. The scenes may have worked in a play-like setting, where sudden changes are more acceptable, but in film it rings false. As well, Dunkleman's relationship with his wife is very shoddily handled, and the passage of the time that the story encompasses is not well established.

The look of the film, and cinematography by Mark Adam, is often darkly beautiful. In particular, the prison meeting scenes are filmed in rich brown hues which provide a sense of misplaced comfort amidst the emotional chaos. Not quite as effective, unfortunately, is the decision to stage Downey’s savage assault in a scene edited like a late eighties music video. This particular stylistic decision badly reduces the horror of the moment.

In terms of its content, Steel Toes isn’t quite as incisive as similarly themed films such as American History X or The Believer. It’s a small film, but one that is definitely worth checking out simply for the joys that come from watching two masterful actors firing on all cylinders. It’s also a further testament to Strathairn’s position as one of the best character actors working today.

3 out of 5

Film Review - THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA: PRINCE CASPIAN: Close The Book, This Franchise Is Officially Dead!

I've been going to the movies for over twenty years now, and have seen the odd advance screening. Usually they are quiet affairs, with contest winners wandering confusedly into a film they have no real knowledge of. Tonight, however I had my first run-in with Walt Disney's group of hired movie-militants. After being corralled like Mad Cow-diseased bovine, we were slowly filtered into a crude interrogation section where purses were rummaged through and warnings were issued regarding bringing recording equipment into the theatre. Then the metal detectors and even-more-formal harsh warnings and threats of audience surveillance came into play...

It was among the most demeaning experiences of my life, at least it was up until and they blasted the trailer for Beverly Hills Chihuahua at us in deafening digital audio. As I sat there, confoundedly attempting to make some of sense of this cinematic catastrophe, and distracted by the "friendly" Disney SWAT team darting around the aisles looking for video-cameras, I was both amused and angered by the sheer insanity of it all. At the end of the day, we're just there to see a movie, not declare jihad on the downtown cineplex. It was an ugly look into the ruthless corporate entity that hides behind the Magic Kingdom. In retrospect though, I can see why they were desperately afraid that pre-release footage from Prince Caspian would get out. Because if anyone sees a few minutes of this turkey on-line in the next few days there's no way they'll be showing up at the theatres this weekend.

I reasonably enjoyed 2005's The Chronicles Of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch & The Wardrobe. It was nicely shot, with a deliciously evil and seductive villainess in Tilda Swinton's White Witch (Who shows up briefly in Caspian in a scene so awful it must be seen to be believed). She, and Liam Neeson's regal voicing of the Jesus-lion, Aslan, helped overcome some of the bumpy effects and often terrible acting from the four children at the heart of the story. It was like Lord Of The Rings-lite, engaging and amusing... And occasionally even terrific fun.

Alas, there is nothing good to say about the new follow-up, the agonizingly dull and lifeless Prince Caspian. This time around, the young heroes Peter (William Moseley), Edmund (Skandar Keynes), Lucy (Georgie Henley) and Susan (Anna Popplewell) find themselves transported back to Narnia, and in direct confrontation with the evil King Miraz (Sergio Castellitto - made to look exactly like Gerard Butler in 300), who aims to wipe the mystical inhabitants of the land off the map. To further aid his plan, he has driven the true heir to the kingdom, the titular Prince Caspian (Ben Barnes) into exile. Soon the children must make an uneasy alliance with the Prince and, with the aid of the magical creatures of the forest, take back Narnia and restore it to its former glory.

While in brief synopsis form the storyline of Caspian is far from wretched, the execution is never anything less than woefully inept. Director Andrew Adamson, who helmed the previous film, as well as the first two Shrek outings, shows absolutely zero flair for the material. His shots are lifeless and devoid of energy. As well, Prince Caspian is among the cruddiest looking blockbusters in recent memory. There is a prolonged castle siege that is so muddy and foggy looking that one begins to wonder if someone spilled ink onto the print. Similarly, the sweeping fields and hills of Narnia have no splendour or majesty. They're point-and-shoot travelogue shots.

The battle scenes are particularly horrible. It's quite obvious that all of the stars are in desperate need of some extensive swordplay summer schooling, and thus every fight is a hack-and-slash edit job without grace or impact. There is a LOT of swash-buckling here, and not an iota of it looks even slightly competent. It's really pathetic when a major summer film like Narnia can't even provide a half-decent action scene.

This brings us to the acting... Or lack thereof. The young leads are hopeless, delivering all their lines in disbelieving monotones. There's no passion or drive, and they seem to care little about the apparently massive stakes of the story. Sadly though, they still manage to blow Ben Barnes right off the screen and back into central casting. I cannot recall a more bland performance by a lead actor in many a moon. This mannequin makes Hayden Christensen's prequel performances look like the work of Orson Welles. Looking like Timothy Olyphant's emo brother, and displaying limited facial mobility, Barnes mumbles his witless lines through a bizarre Greek-sounding accent that seems calculated to irritate. As well, special notice must go to the award-winningly bland villainous turn by Castellitto, who would probably have been better off as Ray Liotta's sword-boy in In The Name Of The King.

The script (HA!) for Prince Caspian, by director Adamson, Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely, makes sure to give each character only a single minor personality trait so as to prevent them all from congealing, in the viewer's mind, into a single mass of slithering blandness. I dare anyone to even attempt to care about a single character here! (The cute sword-slinging mouse not included). And therein lays the problem, for all the tortured (and often incomprehensible) revelations and twists in the plot, there is nothing to care about. Instead of watching a story unfold, we are subjected to simply counting off an endless amount of flat scenes until the underwhelming and plodding conclusion.

Honestly, I can't imagine there being a worse major film this summer than Prince Caspian. It is an epic blunder that kills any chance of me paying to see the next chapter, as well as any chance for an even half-decent trilogy. It's cynical audience-manipulating dreck without a single ounce of cleverness or wonder, and among the longest 2.5 hours I've ever spent in a theatre. There are going to be a lot of disappointed and bored families walking out of this clunker, and more than likely a massive number of complaints about the far-over-PG level of violence and scariness. At one point little Lucy declares "It feels like magic!" No, Lucy, Prince Caspian is where magic goes to die.

1 out of 5

Film Review - IRON MAN: Heavy Metal Wonder!

What an age we live in, when a middle-aged actor as quirky and unpredictable as Robert Downey Jr. can headline a multi-million dollar blockbuster franchise based on a B-level superhero that few are familiar with. More surprising however, which I’m pleased to report, is that Iron Man is one of the better entries in the superhero genre, as well as one of the most amusingly enjoyable film-going experiences in recent memory.

Iron Man, based on the Marvel Comics’ character created by funny-book legend Stan Lee back in 1963, is a cleverly off-beat take on the superhero mythos, featuring the most unlikely of heroes. Tony Stark (Downey Jr.), a charismatic and quick-witted billionaire arms manufacturer in the Howard Hughes mould, is critically injured and detained by Middle Eastern terrorists while conducting an overseas demonstration of his latest weapon to the U.S. military. After the fanatical group demands he build them a super-weapon, Stark takes it upon himself to instead construct a large weaponized suit to aid in his escape. After breaking out of his makeshift prison he returns to the U.S., where he realizes the impact his deadly hardware has had on the world and decides to employ his new creation in cleaning up the damage. His radical shift in ideology has profound effects on his relationships with shadowy business partner, the wonderfully named Obadiah Stane (Jeff Bridges), best friend and U.S. Air Force Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes (Terrence Howard) as well as his devoted and lovable personal assistant Pepper Potts, warmly played by Gwyneth Paltrow. Soon, as is typically the case, Stark must use his abilities to put an end to a super-powered threat which threatens to level the city.

Despite a relatively routine story arc, which we’ve seen used countless times in films ranging in quality from Spider-Man to Ghost Rider, the key to Iron Man’s success is its willingness to write to each actor’s individual strengths and not allow the effects to trump the character work. Robert Downey Jr. is nothing less than a revelation here, making Tony Stark a study in humorous odd-ball behaviour. He delightfully portrays the fierce and perceptive intelligence of Stark, while simultaneously underscoring each moment with droll witticisms and off-beat observations. Most importantly, he effortlessly convinces us that this 43-year-old eccentric really could strap on enough heavy metal to make Ronnie James Dio blanch and save the day.

In fact, it’s surprising in retrospect how close Downey’s performance comes to completely overshadowing the special effects eye-candy. Taking a page from the Batman Begins playbook, director Jon Favreau makes the wise decision to emphasize Tony Stark’s personality and relationships over the scenes featuring Iron Man blowin’ stuff up real good. To this end, Terrence Howard and Jeff Bridges provide great support, and while both a tad under-used, make their archetypal roles feel alive. Likewise, Gwyneth Paltrow is ideal, providing her and Downey Jr.’s scenes with a kinetic bouncy energy, while still managing to subtly hint at their unspoken amorous yearnings. The duo’s rapid-fire conversations play as perfect homage to the great Cary Grant/Katherine Hepburn screwball comedies of yore (Go rent Bringing Up Baby NOW!), and are refreshingly mature and free of nausea-inducing romantic clichés. As well, I really appreciated the fact that these two are no longer lovestruck kids with cloudy minds, but instead capable professionals who understand the daunting prospects of love. They are realists as opposed to idealists.

The special effects by the brainchildren at Industrial Light and Magic are inventive and nearly flawless. As a realized creation, Iron Man is among the best looking effects-driven heroes, with realistic weight and mobility. More importantly, the CG is used in service of the story, instead of in place of it. Iron Man may dart around the sky like a hyperactive projectile, but we never overlook the human being inside the tin-can.

If I have one complaint about Iron Man, it’s the somewhat underwhelming super-villain material. Due to the film focusing its energies towards telling a great origin tale, the development of the arch-nemeses is a bit rushed. The best villains, such as Dr. Octopus and Joker, thrive on a fair share of on-screen development, and Iron Man’s baddie isn’t in the same league. The final battle is more perfunctory than essential, and when compared to the more impressive mano-et-mano's in Spider-Man 2 or X2 comes up pretty short. Here's hoping for a more iconic villain in the future, such as Mandarin or, if dreams come true, Fin Fang Foom.

Downey Jr. and company have crafted a smart and wildly entertaining blockbuster, a rare feat, and Iron Man is guaranteed to thrill and amuse even the most cynical of viewers. In addition, they’ve laid some great foundation for what will likely prove to be an even more fantastic sequel. See you in 2010, Iron-fans.


4 out of 5

P.S.: I hope the next installment also pushes the boundaries of the genre a little more. The best superhero flicks, Tim Burton's and Chris Nolan's Batman's, Spider-Man 1 and 2, and Superman: The Movie and the underrated Returns all aimed to be great films, not just great comic-book films. I'm eager to see Iron Man 2 strengthens its geo-political messages and shows a tad more ambition and style.