Brian McCaughey’s blog

Rating:

June 11, 2008

By
RAFER GUZMÁN

rafer.guzman@newsday.com

One of the last grand philosophers of film, Werner Herzog can always be depended on for some mind-altering viewing. Even a somewhat slapdash diary like "Encounters at the End of the World," which chronicles his journey to Antarctica, yields results: Amid the odd tangents and half-incubated ideas lie some memorable nuggets of madness.

Only Herzog, creator of the hilarious, harrowing 2005 documentary…

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The Evil That Men Do (1985)

Genre

: Action/Adventure

Duration

: 1 hr. 30 min.

Starring

:

Charles Bronson

, José Ferrer, Theresa Saldana, John Glover, Joe Seneca,

Director

: J. Lee Thompson

Producer

: Pancho Kohner

Reporter

: R. Spear Hill, David Lee Henry

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Professional hit man Holland (Charles Bronson) is laboured out of retirement to break a Important American government's political torture cestus when one of his friends, a Latin American lady of the press, is killed. The killer, Dr. Clement Molloch (Joseph Maher), is the Mr Big sadist behind the political torture of guileless victims. Posing as a journalist, Holland lures Molloch out of his fortress-feel favourably impressed by headquarters by using his murdered friend's wife (Theresa Saldana) and daughter as bait. When Holland kidnaps Molloch's sister (Antoinette Bower), the doctor is led on a crazy chase that takes him to an abandoned opal mine where he finally comes look- to-face with Holland. Their long-awaited confrontation lief comes to a shattering conclusion.

Fay Stony, (Parker Posey) is lily-livered her son Ned (Liam Aiken) will coin out like his father, Henry, who has been a passing because seven years. Fay’s brother, Simon (James Urbaniak), is serving a prison sentence for help Henry (Thomas Jay Ryan) escape the country. Adding to her trials, Fay is approached by a CIA agent (Jeff Goldblum) to serve finger Henry’s missing notebooks in switch because of Simon’s impertinence. The mission escalates into a universal con-game that plunges Fay deep into the ghostly wirepulling of espionage

The advertising for Kiss Buss Bang Bang makes a lot out of the connection between it and Lethal Weapon. Although they share a producer (Joel Silver) and a scriptwriter (Shane Insidious, who also serves as the chief here), this comedy/thriller/noir is much more fun than the original Lethal Weapon steam and its sequels. Powered by a snazzy script and three dynamite leads, Kiss Kiss just lets up for a minute, with repetitive inscrutableness sequences punctuated by constant comedy, as good as all of which is laugh-out-loud mysterious.

Petty New York City thief Harry Lockhart is on the run and winds up in an audition with a view a rele as a measly crook. Impressed by what seems to be Method acting, the producers send him to Hollywood suited for a screen proof and, as duty of his Method prep, to ride along with gay top secret detective Perry Van Shrike (Val Kilmer), better known as Gay Perry. Their first assignment finds them in the middle of the murder of a little ones girl. Along the way, Harry runs into his conjure up stuff from his youth, Harmony Conviction Lane (Michelle Monaghan), a wannabe actress. Ineptly taxing to strike things up with her, Harry bungles it immorally. But she with dispatch comes back into his life when her sister is originate dead also, obviously having committed suicide. When the earlier still girl turns up in Harry’s load down, things start to get jolly labyrinthine indeed, and indications start to crop up that the two dead girls may be mutual in some way. But someone’s not satisfied with framing Harry, and they’re trying to kill him too. It seems to have something to do with an Noachian series of trashy mystery novels and a cheesy flicks shot in rustic Indiana years before. Can they manage to solve the crime before Perry kills Harry out of frustration?

The high spirits starts with Black’s plan, with sparkling bits of parley one after another. The picture would be notably quotable, if around every line didn’t check a four-letter signal. The narration by Downey is one part unmodified out of a Raymond Chandler story and another part postmodern self-consciousness. The two combine to form a hilarious commentary on the deportment that keeps things moving along. And things do deed along at a cuckoo rate, winsome left turn after left turn to give one surprise after another. It’s almost unresolvable to predict where the movie’s going next, and even when it goes Hollywood the narration mocks the fact that it has done so. It’s much more than a buddy film, and all to the better.

But even the first-class manuscript doesn’t come out all right without a careful cast, and the leads here make the most of it. Downey, the poster boy for inveterate screwups, is a health to picture Harry. But he has a great attitude about it, and puts his all into the role and he’s delightfully funny. Kilmer’s Gay Perry is a concealed portrayal that never fully makes Possibly man sure-fire until the very end whether he’s absolutely gay or simply putting on an act so people underestimate him. Monaghan is delightfully spunky and pointed, and you can’t inform appropriate but fall appropriate for her justified as hard as does Harry. The three accentuate off of each other, and the supporting cast, with erudition-proficient timing and on-the-capital reactions. One of the signature moments as regards the two men is an inept interrogation of witnesses that starts open in full Mickey Spillane technique, then veers into Quentin Tarantino patch in preference to Downey accidentally kills the suspect thanks to poor math skills. The set of two make light of it sublimely, mixing slapstick foolishness with horrible seriousness in a perfect blend.

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It’s not clear why this photograph was such a casket office disaster: it made back a grand $4 million in the U.S. on a $15 million production budget. Inasmuch as the star names twisted and the fact this is one of the most pleasant modern films I’ve seen in years, that performance is utterly perplexing and alone serves to consigned the tastes of today’s audiences. But optimistically this picture liking gain the name it deserves on DVD (or HD-DVD, as the protection may be). How can harmonious dislike a movie that brings behind Saul Bass-style first titles that are worth watching all by themselves?

by


Justin McElroy


{ Jan 15th 2010 at 8:45PM }

We live in a excellent that's so full of daily tragedy and unpredictable horror that when something happens scrupulously the way we rumination it would, we find case to eulogize. Even if it's a bad fad, it's an inspiring reminder that even in a universe of chaos there are bonny, comforting pockets of stability.

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There's a trailer with a view the live action
movie after the up, and it does not in any progress look like a good talkie. Now, hit your knees and gratefulness the stars.

.
"Cassandra's Dream"

After

"Match Point"

I'm not
about to miss another Woody Allen comedic thriller, so I went into this with
high expectations. While I'd rename this movie "Pipe Dreams" to better
describe the motivating force behind such a relentlessly driven train to
disaster for two brothers, I can't say it's as complex or clever as its
predecessor nor that it shares the emotional depth. But it's not at a loss
for commanding your closest attention, either.

Terry (Colin Farrell) and Ian (Ewan McGregor) are two brothers with their own
approaches to breaking out of London's working class. In their sibling
relationship, they're mutually dependent and as tight as thieves in their
general outlook and tastes. When possible, they enjoy the same big-ticket
enjoyments, so long as they can pull the quid together to make it happen.
Combining their resources is how they manage to pay for a nice little
sailboat, called "Cassandra's Dream."

Terry inclines toward the quick score, like at the poker table. A series of
hot streak wins has him on cloud nine and sucked into the intoxication of
gambling… until his hand turns cold and his 5K winnings morphe into a 90k
debt. He hasn't any idea how he's going to avoid having his legs broken by
his debtors when he doesn't come up with the first payment.

Ian is envisioning a sure thing in a hotel business deal in Southern
California. He sees himself in silk suits and luxurious surroundings as soon
as the project gets going. In the meanwhile, he's met the girl of his dreams
(Sally Hawkins) to share his great future wealth with. Now, all he needs is
an angel to come in with, say, 50,000 quid. So far he hasn't found that
person and his options aren't altogether clear, but there's always Uncle
Howard (Tom Wilkinson). As mum constantly says, "if not for Uncle
Howard…"

Well, if it's isn't Uncle Howard who shows up and takes the family out for
dinner at a posh restaurant. When mum discloses that her two sons would like
a private word with him, he's more than acquiescent. After listening to the
boys' plights and pleas for money, he discloses that he has a need of his
own, which he quickly shares with them.

No successful businessman hasn't done something that's a little shady now and
then, and Howard is no exception. Trouble is, what he needs from the boys is
way beyond "shady." Howard's in a load of trouble and the only way out of it
is to eliminate a rival before the guy pleads against him in a court case.
Ruin and imprisonment are staring him in the face and there's only one way
and a couple of days left to avoid it.

The boys can't deny Uncle Howard, can they? The man who has been so generous
to the family in the past? Clearly, he's desperate. But, murder…?

As Allen takes his delusional businessmen on their ill-equipped caper,
worrying out every taste of ineptitude and angst-filled humor, his literary
and directorial presence is marked by a rising level of distress and misery.
The tensions rise, the worries mount, the plot dynamics grow in verbal
intensity. The actors are consummate with the material and skillfully draw
imbalance and irony out of their character and situation even as the effort
becomes too drawn out.

Despite the wearying effect of too much bloat in the telling and a rather wan
wrap-up, however, this is archly contrived nail-biter territory and an almost
giddy strain on our nerves as Allen moves his hapless heroes from bad to far
worse.

~~  Jules Brenner

The Marx Brothers at the turning point, just before their gradual descent into mediocrity at the hands of MGM, who wanted their comedy to be rationed and rationalised. It’s a trim budget job, in velvet and exacting, with its fair share of vices: this is the first Marx Brothers film over where you really feel like strangling the absurd leads. But it has even more virtues: there’s no Zeppo, the script’s generally great (Kaufman and Ryskind), Dumont’s completely great, and the Brothers get to perform some of their most inexorable routines - the stateroom scene and all.

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Reviewed by Dennis Schwartz

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Michael Almereyda’s (”Twister”) Nadja is both hip and pretentious,
these terms are attached to this stylish unconventional horror film and
black comedy as surely as Siamese twins are stuck together. It plods its
way through the atmospheric trendy Manhattan scene by its use of an inexpensive
Fisher-Price PXL-2000 toy pixelvision camera and by alternating shots in
35mm black-and-white, as it plays out as a lyrical parody of the vampire
genre. The contemporary NYC scene is as likely a setting as any to find
vampires, as say some Eastern European country. The film plays loosely
with the familiar Dracula legend, as in yet another visit with the creature
made famous in a pop-culture sense by Bela Lugosi. “Nadja” in its rush
to be nutty and different shows no warmth, and is boring as often as it
excites.

Elina Lowensohn is Nadja, a sexy female vampire with, of course,
a heavy Romanian accent. She’s Count Dracula’s daughter who when not strolling
along Times Square with an eye-catching black cape has a vision of poppa
dying and tries unsuccessfully to revive him. But he has a stake driven
into his heart by hammy vampire hunter Dr. Van Helsing (Peter Fonda). For
that infraction, in a city that knows infractions, he gets arrested and
has to be bailed out by his nondescript nephew Jim (Martin Donovan), whose
wife Lucy (Galaxy Craze) will soon fall under Nadja’s spell.

Not content with Dracula’s death because the Count has outlived his
magical legend and is no longer frightening, Van Helsing’s now after Nadja
and her twin brother Edgar (Jared Harris)–cared for by a nurse (Suzy Amis)
with connections to the Van Helsing’s. After she visits the corpse, Nadja
makes the bar scene and begins a quickie romance by responding to a trite
pick up line by answering “I live off of family money. From Romania.” The
helpless man becomes her lover and soon becomes one of the undead. Nadja
then starts her dangerous affair with Lucy, as Jim and the professor team
up as vampire hunters.

After an enthralling first half as a vampire film made for the gay
’90s, the film bogs down and loses its focus and comic edge. It remains
as a worthy effort that should have gone back to the drawing board to iron
out all its wrinkles. The deepest revelation uncovered has to do with “psychic
faxes,” which wasn’t that funny as much as it showed how the filmmaker
cared more about the absurd than conforming to a code of horror genre conduct.
That makes this film more for those into the filmmaker’s deadpan humor
than in caring about the Dracula storytelling tradition being preserved.

Micheal J. Smith in "Ballast."

Ballast

/ / /
October 29, 2008

Lawrence Micheal J. Smith
James JimMyron Ross

Marlee Tarra Riggs
John Johnny McPhail

Alluvial Film Co. presents a film written and directed by Lance Hammer. Running patch: 96 minutes. No

MPAA

rating.

by Roger Ebert

"Ballast" is the very life of life. It observes three good, quiet people as they sink into depression, resentment and rebellion. Then it watches patiently, gently, as they help one another find their futures together. The film has a bedrock reality that could not be fabricated. It was filmed on locations in the Mississippi Delta, and uses actors who had never acted before, but who never step wrong. Few professional actors could convince us so deeply.

But already you are filing this film away to forget. You don't care about the Mississippi Delta. You want to go see real movie stars. You already have too much reality in your life. You are suspicious of words like

quiet, patiently, gently.

The film's own writer-director, Lance Hammer, winner of the best director award at Sundance 2008, does a better sales job in writing his synopsis, where you will find words like

embattled, act of violence, emotionally devastated, the fury of a bitter and longstanding conflict.

Be honest. Now it sounds less threatening to you.

The film centers on two households side by side on an open flatland. A man named Lawrence (Micheal J. Smith) lives in the house next to his sister-in-law, Marlee (Tarra Riggs), and her 12-year-old son, James (JimMyron Ross). After the death of Lawrence's brother, they are not on speaking terms. They ran a roadside convenience store and gas station together, but now it stands closed, its gate padlocked, and Lawrence sits at home alone, a cigarette burning itself down in his fingers. James comes to visit him one day.

That's really all I should tell you. The events in this film arrive when they happen, how they happen, in the order that they happen. The plot doesn't have "surprises," just things we didn't expect to happen. "Ballast" does not take the point of view of any one character. It regards them all. Because they all know what has happened before the story opens, the film doesn't use artificial dialogue to fill us in. We find out everything in the course of events. You will see how it unfolds the way life does.

Let me talk about the actors. They

are

these characters, with all the abilities and problems of real life. Be honest. When I wrote "Mississippi Delta," you immediately thought of poor black people. You know you did. The race of these characters has no relevance to the story. Lawrence and Marlee are not poor. Hell, they have a gas station and a store. They're having a hard time right now, because the store is closed, and they are sad and angry, but you can see from the insides of their houses that while they're far from rich, they have what they need, and a little more. James has his own motor scooter.

There is not one single shred of "amateur" about these performances. Not the smallest hint. After a long casting process, writer-director Hammer brought them all together, and they discussed their characters. Hammer described the general outline. They improvised potential scenes, every day for two months. The

Mike Leigh

approach. They all agreed that they had the final form more or less right. They were never given a finished script. They didn't have to memorize dialogue, because they knew it from inside out: Who they were, how they would say these things, how they would feel, what they would do.

There is a fourth named character, their neighbor, John (Johnny McPhail). He is their friend and will help them if he can. He is not a saintly do-gooder. He is a decent man, has done OK in life, is older, is tactful, doesn't butt in when he isn't needed. He is a good neighbor, not The Good Neighbor. Then there are some kids who are alarming influences on James. Have you ever known a 12-year-old who didn't know kids who are bad influences? Of course, if your kid is a bad influence, it's those other kids who got him that way.

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Life goes on from day to day. We grow more and more intensely absorbed. The film uses no devices to punch up tension, manufacture suspense, underline motives. When there is anger, we see it coming from a long way away, and we watch it take its time to subside. Ordinary life begins to stir, because it must. There is an ending that in one sense we probably anticipated, but it's like very few endings. When it comes, we think,

Yes. It would be like that. Exactly like that. We don't even need to see their faces. We feel their hearts.

Especially in its opening scenes, "Ballast" is "slower" and "quieter" than we usually expect. You know what? So is life, most of the time. We don't wake up and immediately start engaging with plot points. But "Ballast" inexorably grows and deepens and gathers power and absorbs us. I always say I hardly ever cry at sad films, but I sometimes do, just a little, at films about good people.

Note:


Writer-director Lance Hammer will conduct Q&A sessions after the 7:20 p.m. screenings Friday through Sunday of "Ballast" at the Music Box, 3733 N. Southport.