Pixar was hired by Disney to create merchandise opportunities.
    In the process, they created art.
    I have long been bothered by Pixar.  I could never get over how ill-handled the ending of Toy Story was.  Despite an ingenious setup, translating sibling rivalry into the world of toys, the ending, with nice and physically perfect toys Woody and Buzz escaping the kid but the monstrous toys left behind (after the huge risk taken by revealing they were alive) stuck in my craw.  It wound up ruining my Pixar experience and hampering my viewings of A Bug's Life, Toy Story 2, and Monsters Inc.
    Whereas those films were very much family films, something to keep the kiddies amused but with stuff to keep the grown-ups interested, they were just what they were.  But with Finding Nemo, Pixar turns the corner and demonstrates that they have learned from their mistake.  They create a fantastic movie that defies not only most Hollywood conventions, but Disney conventions especially.  Most Disney films center on themes of love and hope.  Fear and loss are the fuel in this engine.
    The difference in tone is established in the first few minutes of film.  Marlin (Albert Brooks) is a clownfish who has just moved with his wife, Coral, to a new section of coral reef.  They have laid eggs and are anticipating a huge family.  But random tragedy strikes when a barracuda attacks Coral and the eggs.  Marlin is knocked out, and when he comes to, he is all alone with one surviving egg, which he promises he will never let anything happen to.
    Nemo is born with a deformed fin on the side.  Combined with Marlin's fear (and possibly guilt that he didn't try hard enough to save his wife and kids), Nemo is forced to be sheltered.  He wants to start school, but Marlin tells him, "It's okay if you want to wait five or six years."  During the first day of school, Nemo engages his first act of rebellion, swimming out to sea to touch a boat as Marlin yells for him to get back there.  But on the way back, a diver scoops up Nemo into a little net and takes him away.  Marlin has to brave his utter phobia of the ocean at large to get him back.
    The story splits in two.  Nemo is deposited in a tank in a dentist's office.  All the fish there, led by Gill (Willem Defoe), want to escape and have a plan, but a sense of urgency appears when it is revealed Nemo is to be a present to the dentist's daughter, who killed the fish she got last year by shaking the bag.  Nemo resigns himself to his fate because he thinks there is no way his dad would ever come for him.  "He's too scared."  Marlin, meanwhile, continues his quest with the hit-or-miss help of Dory (Ellen DeGeneress), a blue tang with short-term memory loss.  Nemo gets a surrogate father who is what he believes a father should be, and Marlin gets a surrogate child who is what he fears Nemo is, and both develop from them.
    Albert Brooks really is perfect as Marlin.  When Nemo is taken and Marlin surfaces calling desperately and panicking, it's a jolt to the heart.  Sadness is easy to get across in film, genuine fear is much harder.  With kids or without, Marlin begging passing fish, "Has anyone seen a white boat?!?  They took my son!" will bring a tear to your eye.  His character arc is also believable.  As Marlin continues his quest, his confidence doesn't only climb.  He occassionally relapses into the paralyzing fear that has defined his life.  It's not Point A to Point B, he has to actually learn.  Another key is that Marlin remains an everyman instead of a hero.  As he continues, you don't cheer, "Hang in there, Nemo!  Here comes the cavalry!"  You pull for Marlin, a small fish with no natural protections from his environment, and hope that he makes it.  The odds are so high against him, the ending is in doubt since you can't conceive how he will even find Nemo let alone get him out of the tank.
    The directing is wonderful, but the computer graphics shine.  There is a sense of beauty and wonder to the undersea world.  The directing is top notch, too.  They have faith in their creation to rivit audiences.  Consider the scene where Marlin and Crush, a sea turtle, ride a rough stretch of the East Australia Current, Marlin clinging to the shell for dear life while Crush, in typical surf dude fashion, thrills to it.  The sequence only lasts about 30 seconds, but the spins and view are far more involving and exciting.  Compare that to the scenes in Disney's Tarzan, with the slide along the tree trunks.  That felt manufactured, put together to provide razzle dazzle and a video game tie in.  Tarzan is made to dazzle, so you focus on the technical skill.  Finding Nemo is made to show what the characters see, and identification with them makes it more involving that the entire set piece of Tarzan.  The also use Marlin's perspective to keep things from getting too cutesy.  When Squirt the sea turtle is explaining how to exit the EAC, he does it with a string of surfer slang as Marlin stares at him in utter incomprehension.  When the spiel is finished, Marlin declares, "It's like he's trying to speak to me!  I know it!"  A lot of potential Disney-esque moments get short circuited instead of overstaying their welcome.  For example, there's a trio of sharks on a 12-step program ("Fish are friends, not food.").  This seems like a typical Disney gag, a simple role-reversal, but it kicks into high gear when Dory gets a bloody nose and one of the shark's baser instincts kicks in.
    By the way, there are a lot of movie references squirrelled into the proceedings, with references to The Shining, The Birds, Psycho, and a great white shark named Bruce in reference to Jaws (the Bruce is thing is double funny because the shark is from Australia, and as every Monty Python fan knows, everyone in Australia is named Bruce).
    Despite the G rating, this is not a kiddie flick.  It is emotionally deep and provides a richer experience than almost any special effects extravaganza you can name.  It is a true cinematic classic, and for the first time, I'm looking forward to the next Pixar movie.
 
 

Christopher Guest is partly responsible for one of the greatest comedy movies ever made, This Is Spinal Tap.  I remember the "band" played in the Chicago area, opening for a real rock band, and they were more entertaining than the authentic musicians they were aping.
    My enthusiasm for Guest was limited solely to Spinal Tap, thanks to another phony documentary ("mockumentary") called Waiting For Guffman.  While it had some great bits in it, there was an atmosphere of condescension that made it difficult to lose myself in.  As a result, I waited a long time before seeing Best In Show, and laughing long and hard at that.  Condescension was replaced by subtle irony and an identification with many of the subjects, and those that invited ridicule very much deserved it, as in the quest for the Busy Bee.  Helping make the movie a classic was Fred Willard, who practically stole the movie with his completely improvised performance.
    Now comes his next movie with the Christopher Guest Stock Ensemble, A Mighty Wind.  When I heard the subject was folk singers, I blanched.  I love almost every musical style, and the only ones I really hate are opera and shitkicker (I firmly believe Satan invented the steel pedal organ to cover the ground missed by accordions and bagpipes).  Folk music has a wonderful quality, thanks to the intimacy of few instruments and harmonizing of everyone involved.  The fact that the genre is chock full o' oblivious and sometimes mawkish sincerity made me wonder if Waiting For Guffman Version 2 was going to start unspooling.  Thankfully, my fears were unfounded.  It looks more and more like Waiting For Guffman was a beta test, Guest making sure he could sustain his offbeat brand of humor that serves as his movies' Golden Thread before working on the characters and such.
    A legend in the field of folk music has died, and a benefit concert is organized.  There's the New Main Street Singers (an obvious riff on the New Christy Minstrels), the Folksmen (a riff on the Kingston Trio and also a band Chirstopher Guest created to open for Spinal Tap when they were on tour), and Mickey and Mallory.  Each has their own hopes and rivalries.
    Watching the movie unfold is fascinating.  Despite a couple of shots that it later occurs to you wouldn't fit in a documentary, you get caught up in the lives and tribulations of the characters, and there are some hilarious bits.  Highly recommended.
 
 

I am starting this review off with a BIG TIME SPOILER WARNING!!!  I will be discussing not only The Village in detail, but also other M. Night Shayamalan movies such as The Sixth Sense and Signs, plus The Truman Show.  Part of the trouble with reviewing movies is keeping things secret so audiences can discover it for themselves.  But The Village is ultimately so wrong, the only way to explain it and effectively review the movie is by discussing it and other illustrating examples in detail.  (Besides, it could be argued that, if you haven't seen The Sixth Sense and The Truman Show by now, you don't deserve the surprises.)
    M. Night Shayamalan was just another director until he made the classic (yes, I said "classic") film The Sixth Sense, a throwback to the days of filmmaking when fears were psychological rather than physical.  No guys in hockey masks, no knife bladed gloves, no aliens that turn invisible while picking people off one by one, just a creepy mystery crawling with atmosphere and a twist ending, complete with Bruce Willis as not only one of the anchors for the story, but acting as the audiences' proxy, reacting exactly the same way they did when he found out he had actually been dead.  It was one of those rare films where, goddammit, the writing was the most important thing, not razzle dazzle effects or nice tits.
    But since then, Shayamalan has gotten wobbly.  I enjoyed Unbreakable.  Okay, it wasn't the massive brain scramble that The Sixth Sense was, but I felt expecting him to hit a home run every time was unreasonable.  Taken on its own, Unbreakable is great.  But with Signs, a rut was starting to wear into things.  Acting as the flip side to Independence Day, the movie was engrossing as long as you stayed within the confines of the film itself.  But as you left the theater, something nagged at you that something was amiss.  Once you think about water soluable aliens invade a planet that is over 2/3 water, plus water vapor practically flooding the atmosphere, desires for repeated viewings kind of vanish.
    With The Village, we have Shayamalan doing something he hasn't done in ages--directing a movie based on another person's script.  It's easy to see why he would find the script interesting.  Unfortunately, this Twilight Zone number is a very poor cousin to the well-thought out The Sixth Sense, and even deals with the lynchpin of the situation at the wrong time, at the very end, instead of incorporating it into the middle of the story like in The Truman Show.  (The spoiler warning for The Truman Show is because the fundamental premise, a ficticious town and people unaware of it,  is so similar.  I had a big time suspicion what the ending was because Shayamalan fumbled the ball with the setup.)
    The movie's setup is that the village is actually in modern times.  The village elders set it up and have everyone believing they are actually in the old days because the modern world is too violent and that by doing this, they can eliminate the destructive urges.  This doesn't work, with a fight breaking out and a character needing to brave the forest surrounding the village to get medicine.  The woods are supposedly home to ominous creatures, but are actually the village elders trying to keep the yunguns from leaving.
    I don't know exactly what the tip-off was.  I think it was because I honestly couldn't see how the village could be self-supporting.  I got this sense of misdirection--don't pay attention over there, look over here--during the movie that kept me from buying the illusion.  And since buying the illusion is the key to the big surprise ending, where the full situation is revealed, it just fell apart for me.
    This is actually an old chestnut.  It was featured in an episode of The Twilight Zone, and there was even a book called Running Out Of Time that it strikingly resembles.  But like I said, the big secret triggers the closing credits instead of the final reel, and it just doesn't work.  Some people actually applauded the ending.  I wanted to LART these people.  The only thought that went through my mind was a quote from John Carpenter's The Thing--"You have got to be fucking kidding me!"
    No no no.  The pacing is overly slow, the atmosphere is incomplete, the scope is misaimed.  Shayamalan should make a nice comedy next and give up the Rod Serling 2.0 gig.
 
 

It's ironic that, as Stanley Kubric's career progressed, he had to compromise more and more.  Usually it's the other way around.  Trey Parker and Matt Stone started off very funny but still politically neutral with South Park, but pushing buttons became so SOP with them that they were able to shoot the South Park movie, which slapped negligent parents, racism, knee-jerk politics, regionalistic emotionalists, and reactionaries (and just about anyone else who stumbled into their sites) upside the head with a sock full of horse manure.  But Kubric?  The studio got, among other things, blatant censorship into Eyes Wide Shut.
    AI is a very difficult movie for me to review.  First up, I am not the biggest Stanley Kubric fan.  2001 was terrific from a story perspective, but aside from a couple of scenes, I wasn't that impressed with his directing.  The only movie Kubric made that really hit my bull's eye was Dr. Strangelove, an anti-establishment classic that examined how bureaucracy and blind patriotism lead to some really stupid actions.  Aside from that, I haven't been overly enthused with his other flicks I've seen.  Lolita just never struck a cord with me.  The Shining and A Clockwork Orange were disturbing and unsettling but didn't really seem to have a story to tell--they were triumphs of attitude over communication.  Eyes Wide Shut didn't bowl me over because I kept hearing the laughter of a man who got to make a naughty movie and no one would dare consider it anything other than art.
    Problem two is another bugaboo--I am not the biggest Steven Spielberg fan.  He hasn't made a movie that gripped me since the original Jaws.  Don't get me wrong, the Indiana Jones flicks are a ton of fun, but even when Spielberg is aiming for the artistic rather than what sells, he just doesn't do anything for me.  Never saw The Color Purple, can't comment on it.  Schindler's List was impressive from a historical and acting perspective, the directing had no impact.  Amistad was a patriotic miscue, showing us whites allowing the slaves to be free and aren't we swell without addressing the question of, If slavery was so wrong, why did it continue in this country for another forty years after that?
    Needless to say, combining these two who were friends into one movie makes for a shaky proposition.  There is also the fact that this isn't exactly new turf, it's been explored in films from Short Circuit to Bicentennial Man (Robin Williams even has a cameo of sorts in this movie).  But AI actually comes through relatively unscathed.  I dare say it could have been a true classic and a true tribute to Kubric, if only it weren't for that second ending (which I will get to anon)....
    We open in the future, when the ice caps have melted and flooded parts of the world like New York City.  Professor Allen Hobby (William Hurt) is director of development and engineering for a company that makes mecha, robotic humans.  They make butlers and other things.  He challenges his staff to build a robot that can love.  He doesn't want to consider what obligation they have to something they make to love them.  "After all, didn't God create Adam to love him?"  This is a debatable point, but it is an interesting question and promises exploration of great ideas.  The prototype, David, is sent to the home of Henry and Monica Swinton (Sam Robards and Frances O'Connor).  Their son, Martin, is currently in cryonic freeze and Monica is not grieving to move on with life.  David is supposed to help her.  Monica doesn't know what to make of David, who acts like a perfect angel even though she hasn't imprinted him with who his parents are supposed to be, a safety mechanism to keep him from hurting them.  She eventually accepts him and activates the imprint, mentioning her own name twice and Henry's not at all.  David responds to this by calling her "Mommy" and Henry "Henry".  Monica also gives David Teddy (Jack Angel), a "supertoy" who maintains he is not a toy.  It is a robotic teddy bear.  Things go as well as can be expected until Martin revives and comes home.  Now, the logistics of taking care of David and his different needs come out and the family doesn't think they can handle it.  Because of the imprint, David has to be taken back to the factory to be destroyed, but Monica can't do it and abandons him in the woods with Teddy.  David, having heard the story of Pinnochio at Martin's urging, decides Monica doesn't love him because isn't real.  But all he wants is her love, and undertakes a quest to find the Blue Fairy from the story, in hopes she can make him a real boy and he can return to Mommy.  Along the way, he runs into Gigolo Joe (Jude Law), a love bot who's been framed for murder and on the run.
    Good science fiction presents current life foibles, fears, and situations in metaphorical ways.  It's easy to see David as living the nightmare of a foster or unwanted child.  Monica wants a child to love.  I can see this.  My sister once told me she wanted a baby because "A baby will love me no matter what."  That's a frightening thought, and opens the movie's gate.  The parents reject David because he isn't really part of the family, but all he wants is to be loved and be a part of them, and can't understand what the problem is.  When confronted with situations where he is treated as an accessory to life rather than a part, like at the Flesh Fairs, he screams he is a real boy.  His quest for affirmation can twist the heart of just about anyone.  Well, almost.
    It is at this point I have to point out one huge caveat:  if you see David as a machine who only thinks he can love, he is no more capable of love than a toaster and only reflects the emotions we project onto him, you might enjoy the movie, but it will carry no weight.  Some people have said they feel manipulated because they think it is a metaphor for the technocrats--those that don't embrace the bold new technology are depicted as backwards goons.  If you wonder about what truly constitutes being alive with conscious thought and immortal soul, this movie is right up your alley.
    This is a quality production.  One really chilling effect from Kubric's cinematographer is the color scheme.  The movie is almost a black and white film.  The occasional highlights of color, usually neon blue or red, jump out in sharp relief, very Blade Runner.  The set design deserves a bow, too.  The settings and environments reflect the film's humanity, cold and isolated.  The cryonics lab seems as cold as the chemicals they pump.  David's house has sweeping staircases and designs, with lots of light defusing panels everywhere.  I can't recall seeing a single view of the outside world through any window in the house.  Despite the sleek look, there are very few details, no real decorator touches.  The family is quite well to do, with an outdoor pool, but try as I might, I can't recall the layout of the house.  It is shot in such a way that, if like me you believe a house and/or room reflects its occupant, these are people that really don't have much to do with the world around them or even what they bring with them.  Excellent job.
    The writing, up until that second ending (still anon), is also incredible.  The mecha, even those not as advanced as David, are not considered alive because among other things, as Newton Crosby might say, they don't exhibit spontaneous emotional response.  Yet they do.  There are misfires, like when David starts laughing at the dinner table for no apparent reason.  But the mecha do exhibit fear and self-preservation.  They also are capable of creative thought.  David undertakes to find the Blue Fairy on his own.  When one of Martin's friends attempts to cut David's arm to see what makes him work, David exhibits a fight or flight response, hiding behind Martin and begging him to "keep me safe."  Teddy, acting as Jimminy Cricket, warns David that if he eats, "you will break."  When captured for the Flesh Fair, Teddy is being held outside the cage by David as it goes aloft.  As David's grip starts to loosen, Teddy tells him, "I will break."  Joe figures out how to get the information to find the Blue Fairy with some creative thought and is on the run so he won't be destroyed after being framed for killing one of his clients.  Most chilling is a nanny mecha at the flesh fair, who volunteers to take care of David up until her destruction.  She smiles the entire time, throwing herself into her work to provide joy and focus as the world around her falls away.  I know people like that after things like a break-up.
    The whole film would be just an interesting Twilight Zone-ish flick if it weren't for one very important thing:  the performance of Haley Joel Osment.  Damn, this kid is good.  Believe the hype, his performance is as subtle, nuanced, and stunning as in the classic The Sixth Sense.  The character calls for a robot with a child's curiosity and unconditional love, while dealing with the pressure of being in almost every scene of the movie.  He hits it perfect.  It's easy to see how he triggers such mixed emotions in those around him as well as himself.  He is, for all intents and purposes, a real boy, but he's not.  He doesn't blink once in the movie.  He starts as a computer and develops into a real boy, but still he can't complete the transformation.  No scene hits as hard and twists your heart like when David, during the first ending, wanders through the lab and sees dozens of him in various stages of production and some already boxed.  When one box jumps, David's reaction hits you like a sledgehammer over the head.  Like Marlon Brando, he doesn't overact, he knows how to internalize the pain and make it effective.  He shouldn't just be nominated for an Oscar, he damn well better win it.
    In fact, all the performances are top notch.  Frances O'Connor brings real confusion and pathos to her role as Monica, who goes along with an idea and finds herself too attached.  Jude Law also is terrific as Joe.  Every performance carries weight and pain.  It is a true acting showcase.
    John Williams has never been my favorite composer, but here, he continues his recent rebound.  The music score has a sad, twisted waltz quality to it, human enough to have mistakes but repeating in such a way it is simply mechanical, and it underscores the torment of the characters incredibly well.  For the longest time, I've said that most of Williams' music is completely interchangeable with other films he handles.  It's hard to believe this is the same guy.  Keep it up.
    The problem is the second ending (okay, the time is now anon).  SPOILER WARNING:  I will be discussing the movie's resolution in detail.  If you want to find out for yourself, skip this section pronto.  The movie ends with David and Teddy in New York City in a submersible.  David finds the Blue Fairy.  It's actually the Pinnochio display at Coney Island.  He parks in front of the statue and starts begging the Blue Fairy to make him a real boy.  And he continues doing that, as the narrator intones, for 2,000 years until his batteries run out.
    If the movie ended there, it would have been terrific.  But then the movie jumps forward some more millennia.  The planet has now frozen over.  Aliens are excavating chunks of ice to study the Earth.  One of the ones they discover is the one with David inside.  The Christ-like aliens (they revive David with a sort of "laying of the palms" gesture) revive him and David discovers the fairy was just a statue.  Next thing he knows, he's back in his house from the beginning of the movie.  The aliens rebuilt it for him to give him a place to stay and be happy.  His first contact is with the Blue Fairy (Meryl Streep), actually a mouthpiece for the aliens.  It turns out the aliens can genetically engineer life.  David asks them to make him Monica.  They say they can't without some of her DNA.  Teddy then produces a lock of hair David was tricked into cutting off earlier in the film.  The aliens take it, but inform David there is a limit.  Once the person dies, their lifeforce is cut off.  They can revive a person, but only for one day.  After they fall asleep, they remain comatose as their lifeforce is now completely spent.  David still wants his mom for one day, so they create her.  She has no real recollection of what is going on, how she got there, etc. (this, of course, questions whether memory is genetic or the result of environment, a serious misstep after what the movie has presented so far).  She and David spend the day together, drawing, playing hide and seek with Teddy, and so on.  At the end of the day, her spirit fading, she tells David, just before drifting to sleep, "I love you."  David then lies down next to her and, according to the narrator, "dreams."
    Isn't that just so goddam precious?
    This ending feels majorly tacked on.  The camera angles, the lighting, the structure, everything feels like Spielberg and nothing like Kubric.  After all the heavy-duty questioning, this happy ending waves to the audience and says, "Just kidding!"  It should have ended with David praying to the Blue Fairy at Coney Island until he died.
    END SPOILER WARNING.  Thank you, stay well, and God bless.
    AI is Spielberg holding a gun to your face, making you watch as he squeezes the trigger, then a little flag that says "bang!" pops out of the barrel.  If you want to see this movie, watch up until the first ending (you'll recognize the shift when you see it), then leave.
 
 

Disney loves making kiddie animation because the kiddies don't complain.  Show them cartoons, they'll watch.  Disney's last stab at grown up animation was 1985's The Black Cauldron, which murdered the book series it was based on but was still an okay flick.  Before that, you'd have to go back to Fantasia.
    Disney has only recently not been so bothered by an animated film getting a PG-13 or higher rating.  Last year, they did Dinosaur, which was still very much a kiddie flick.  The PG-13 it got may have raised some eyebrows, but it was emoliated by it steaming to $130 mil at the box office and a ton of toys.  (The demographic was still young boys, as evidenced by the story, which was Land Before Time warmed over.)  While it tried to be a bit more mature, it still was uneven.  Still, give Disney props for being gutsy enough to approve this film long before.  It had to have been approved long before, because unlike the manipulated computer graphics in Dinosaur (which I also think was made because they wanted to prove they could one up their own second party Pixar, but it didn't work out that way), this is mainly traditional cel animation.
    It's 1914.  Milo Thatch (Michael J. Fox) is a boiler maintenance man at a prestigious museum who is trying to get the stuffed shirts to finance an expedition to find Atlantis.  He has deciphered the writings, and knows they need The Shephard's Journal, which gives all the clues needed to find the lost continent.  The people in charge, though, think it's a waste of time, saying they are interested in actual history and cultures, not uncovering myth (I kinda thought myth was a part of history and cultures, but hey).  When Milo gets home, a woman named Helga Katrina Sinclair (Claudia Christian, Babylon 5, The Dark Backward, Wing And A Prayer, The Hidden) is waiting.  She takes Milo to an adventurer friend of his grandfather's.  Milo's grandpa bent his ear with stories of Atlantis, and made a bet with him--if Gramps finds the Shephard's Journal, he will finance an expedition to find Atlantis.  Grandpa found it and died long ago, but Milo proves he's ready to pick up where he left off.  Honoring the long ago deal, he puts together the expedition and invites Milo to join as the interpreter.  And it's off they go.
    The story has a credit for Joss Whedon (Buffy The Vampire Slayer) and his touches are very solid and add immensely.  The supporting cast may be politically correct, with major demographic groups represented, but each also has their own personality and motivations.  Milo, when Helga tries to seduce him into coming with, is so focused on proving Atlantis exists that her sexual ammo simply has no target to work on, a nice change of pace from the Mickey Spillaine riffs so many movies like Swordfish do.  Commander Lyle Tiberius Rourke (James Garner), not to be confused with Captain James Tiberius Kirk, hints early on at the direction he will take.  Vincenzo "Vinny" Santorini (Don Novello, a.k.a. Lazlo Toth, a.k.a. Father Guido Sarducci) and others in the party want the money the mission will bring to take control of their lives and repair damages to their personal histories.  The best supporting character, though, is Phil Morris as Dr. Joshua Strongbear Sweet.  He the team doctor, and he comes across as intelligent and articulate and is NOT there for stupid comic relief.  That job falls to Gaetan "Mole" Moliere (Corey Burton), who is the tunneling expert and loves dirt.  He keeps several samples in the bed beneath his.  When Milo accidentally sits there and Mole starts giving him shit, Sweet tries to calm him down.  When Mole won't listen to reason, Sweet pulls out a weapon Mole genuinely fears--soap, "and I know how to use it."
    The humor, when it shows up, is usually more grown-up.  When the team makes camp, Wlhelmina Bertha Packard (Florence Stanley), the communication officer, presents a poser.  She is easily in her sixties and very sardonic.  As she plods to her tent, she informs Milo in passing that she sleeps in the nude.  Sweet hands Milo a blindfold, saying, "You'll need this.  She sleepwalks."
    The artwork is absolutely beautiful.  The sub, for example, harkens back to designs for Captain Nemo's Nautalus in 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea, also by Disney.  The scenes above the ocean in the museum and such harken faithfully to 1960's Disney with films like 101 Dalmatians, doing a better job of it than Oliver And Company did.  Each character is drawn in a distinctive style, too.  Helga is French realistic, almost rotoscoped.  Milo has a sort of Manga influence.  Mole, as befits his flailing brand of humor, is done in the style of typical Disney characters.  There are lines, circles, curves, all interacting flawlessly.
    Finally, Disney makes an animated film for older audiences without the bullshit that diluted their earlier efforts.  A wonderful film worth full price.
 
 

Artisan Entertainment was originally LIVE, the company that gave us Universal Soldier, Stargate, and other genre films, some good, mostly unmemorable.  In short, they picked up where Cannon and Golan/Globus left off (in fact, I think they have some of their properties).  Roland Emmerich and Dean Devlin complained about how they were excluded from further developments with Stargate, LIVE/Artisan taking control of everything.  While Roland and Dean's plans for Stargate did reek (check the original novel series that followed the movie to see what they had in mind), Artisan has been a bit more hit and miss, turning out some wonderful stuff like Stargate SG-1 and some bogus stuff like the Universal Soldier movies.
    The Blair Witch Project was one of my favorite movies, a thriller that genuinely scared me in the theater.  At the end of the film, during the descent into the basement, I actually considered closing my eyes, I was so afraid of what I would see.  That has never happened to me before.  Just for the record, I kept watching (yeah, I know, stupid machismo, but that admission generates a ton of abuse).  I raved to a friend of mine how great it was and how a sequel was on the way.
    "I have five words for you, Peter," he said.  "Night Of The Living Dead."
    It turned out to be a prophetic statement. Book Of Shadows--Blair Witch 2 goes wrong exactly where the first film went right.  Whereas the first used ambiguity as its strength, relying on psychology rather than shock tactics, BOS is BS, reviving the very tricks its predecessor trying to bury.
    The first indication that you are in trouble comes when you read the movie poster and find there is a credit for the film's music score.  I repeat--the film has a music score.  There was no music at all in the first film, which meant there was no distractions.  Too many filmmakers are incapable of creating emotional responses through the lens, and resort to stilted exposition and/or background music to inform the audience what they should do.  That is part of what made BWP such a remarkable film from artistic and acting standpoints.  There were enough credits to suggest this was going to be a regular movie, and what made the first so special would be AWOL.
    The first Blair Witch had a lot in common with the Columbo mysteries in that they shouldn't have worked.  On Columbo, you knew who the killer was, how they did, everything.  The villian, in fact, was the main focus of the stories.  Then in comes this rumpled detective who the villian can't possibly take seriously, and the story follows the whole scheme unravelling.  Without some characterization or something to latch on to, the whole thing would have flopped.  Likewise, Blair Witch.  From the very start, viewers know the filmmakers will never be heard from again.  The pathos and fear generated as they rally against a fate they can't escape is achieved through phenominal acting and pacing.  It should not have worked, not when we know how it will end as soon as it starts.  But it does.
    The poster is the warning, but even the most optomistic person will get the sinking feeling when the movie starts.  Whereas the first film pretends the events of the film really happened, BOS starts off stating that it is a fictionalized account of the events following the release of the first film.  POP!  There goes the illusion.
    The movie follows a tour through Birkettsville after the first BW movie came out.  People are conducting tours of the sites from the movie, complete with a rube sheriff insisting the tourists, "Get out of the woods!  There is no goddam Blair Witch!"  Residents keep reffering to the film as fictional, a detail that helps derail the film.  One group is being led by a guy who was in the sanitarium (nuthouse, loony bin, Disorient Express, kookie jar, etc.) a short time earlier but is now "cured".  He is leading a group.  Among the group is a married couple with opposite views as to whether or not the Blair Witch is real, complete with historical data about the mythos, once again, despite people in the movie itself stating the movie inspiring the rush is fictitious.  He is a non-believer, she is a true believer.  There is Erika, a practicing witch who considers the Blair Witch a kindered spirit and wants to "shed my mortal coil" and be with her.  There is also a Goth chick who demonstrates some low level psychic abilities.  (Hah!  I have a level 30 Abra that could smoke her easy.)  This group goes into the woods for the tour, staying the night at the foundation where the footage was found.  They black out for a few hours, reviving to find all the documents torn apart and the cameras watching for the witch trashed.  They head for the tour guide's home inside an abandoned factory, hoping his video equipment will fill in what happened, shifting the movie's focus into one of those annoying "one-set" pieces so in vogue with low-budget films.
    Unlike the first movie, which hinged on the improvised dialogue and actions of the performers, this film tries to work with a script.  It creates an uneven feeling.  Some dialogue is stilted, like when the Goth is lying on a grave.
    "What are you doing?"
    "Trying to find the energy."
    "From the dead?"
    "No, to get up.  I'm tired."  Ba-dum-dum-dum.
    Other scenes, like the one at the foundation where the group discusses the first movie, sound like uneasy crosses between Scream and Kevin Smith, complete with Erika wondering why none of the filmmakers tried sex to relax during the pressure.  (She also may or may not have had sex with the husband while they are in the tour guide's home, and since there are no blacks anywhere in the film, you know she's going to get offed first.)
    The dialogue might have worked had the performers been better.  Although some fear is conveyed, no one seems natural enough to vanish into their characters.  The tour guide, giving everyone a quick tour of his abode, shows Blair Witch merchandise he sells on eBay.  He shows a pile of authentic rocks and says, "Who made this?!?  Oh, wait.  I did."  It doesn't come across as gallows humor, just a veiled rip-off of Scream.  Compared to the sheer abject terror conveyed during scenes like when Heather apologizes to whoever will find the footage, nothing really hits those high, hard notes.
    I recognize I mention the illustrious Scream several times.  The film, with the opening scenes of people talking about how ridiculous the whole Blair Witch phenomena is, seems to be trying the self-parodying approach Wes Craven and Kevin Williamson used.  Unfortunately, the film mimics the wrong parts.  More attention should have been paid to The Rules.  The characters are so stupid, they make many mistakes.  When spooky stuff starts happening at the tour guide's house, the husband tells the wife, "We'll leave first thing in the morning."  As opposed to leaving right now?!?  Come on!  It has gratuitous nudity, a sex scene, and other stuff you find in standard issue horror.
    The story has zero consistency.  During the scene at the foundation, the tour guide points out that a huge tree isn't supposed to be there.  The husband and wife dismiss this as him trying to scare them.  The guide points out that if the tree was there all along, they would have had to build the house around it, which makes no sense.  The husband and wife still insist he is trying to scare them.  This is despite the fact that, as researchers of the Blair Witch mythos with all their notes and photos with them, they should have known or checked to see that the tree wasn't supposed to be there.  When Erika vanishes, no one thinks to check the huge network of security cameras the tour guide has strung through the house like in a game of Night Trap.  When the sheriff calls the tour guide to say he suspects him in a series of murders at Coffin Rock, the line, "You are not to leave the county!"  Any sheriff worth his salt would make a personal appearance at his residence and slap the cuffs on him right away.  And despite how everything says the Witch is after them, everyone still assumes one of them is behind what is happening.  At least Spock in Star Trek VI:  The Undiscovered Country knew when to consider the unlikely.  There is also reference at the end how "a violent movie inspired a violent act."  The first Blair Witch wasn't violent.  It could be the director was making an ironic statement about the sensationalist media, but the movie is so focused on itself it's not clear.
    The movie also defies logic.  The missing time is accessed by playing the digital footage backwards and entering the play commands backwards.  This overlooks the fact that digital cameras can't be monkeyed with in that way, it's an editing trick.  Not only that, but the Blair Witch in the first movie killed one or three people.  Why she isn't just killing the tour group instead of coming up with dossiers and framing them for murder is never explained.
    The director cut his teeth with a documentary about how three innocent people got railroaded on child murder charges while another person almost confesses on camera.  Critics rave about it, but I think that is more from the audacity of its subject matter than any talent.  His directing is subtly but definitely intrusive and flat out wrong.  He constantly reminds that this is only a movie.  Case in point:  after Erika vanishes from the factory, the husband enters the bedroom he and his wife were sharing.  The camera is off to the side, keeping him in the center of the frame.  As he enters the room, the camera tracks with him as he walks, keeping him in the center of the frame.  Almost any other director would have panned the camera around to show what the husband was seeing as he entered the room.  The result is viewers wonder if the filmmaker is going to A) spring a surprise image on us in a matter of moments or B) show nothing and this is just to build tension, but whatever it is, get on with it already.  His technique reinforces the emotional distance, and is the final blow to the movie's suspension of disbelief.
    I'm not sure who should get the blame for this, the editor or the director, but what the hell, there's more than enough fault to go around.  The film also gets annoying but intercutting scenes in the "present" of the tour group survivors being interrogated at the jail house with the story.  This makes me wonder when I will see the footage that ties in with what I'm seeing, distracting me from the story rather than creating more mystery.  There's a reason flashbacks are frowned on in scripts, folks.
    Bad horror movies are like bad chilli dogs:  just when you think you've got them down, they come right back up again.  Take your standard horror movie cliches and throw them into the Blair Witch mythos and you have this movie.  It does everything its lightning in a bottle predecessor sought to avoid.  Run from this like it was an Andrew Stevens movie.  Just goes to show that you can spend $15 mil on a sequel, but it will never buy the good stuff.  Haxan Films should be embarrassed to have its logo at the start of the film.

Ah, Beacon Productions.  Full disclosure:  I got in touch with the head of acquisitions a few years ago and she asked to see one of my scripts.  I sent it out, and in less than a week, it was returned to me, no note, no comments, and no creases on the pages, indicating it was never actually read.
    If the above makes you think I'm bitter when I see the Beacon logo at the start of movies, I'm not.  It's more like keeping a running file in my head:  so what exactly were they looking for if it wasn't my script?  Seeing them behind this mess makes me wonder.  I do pride myself on being a writer, after all.  They preferred THIS over what I wrote?
    Bring It On is another "Lolita syndrome" movie, where the focus is on a sexy, underage, skinny girl who is completely innocent (or so she acts) of the cabonating effect she has on most men's hormones.  There's no doubt it's eye candy, but it's given a weak deniability to keep it from seeming wrong.  You will recognize this as the mentality behind Shannon Tweed movies, erotic thrillers that seem to be made for people too chicken to just rent porn.  "But it's actually a mystery!" they can say and not blush when they bring it up to the rental counter.  This is in contrast to the sex-exploitation comedy Gimme An "F", which at least had the guts to admit it's central premise ("Cheerleading isn't about pride, tradition, and spirit.  It's about seeing asses wiggle and tits jiggle!" is said in the first fifteen minutes of the film).  But, amazingly, people buy the former over the more honest latter.
    The above paragraph sums the review up perfectly, but lacks something, like maybe "detail", so here's the scoop:  Kirsten Dunst plays Torrence, a girl at an upper-middle class high school.  She doesn't appear to be high class, but she's obviously got money.  Anyway, she is named Captain of the cheerleading squad, the Toros, and on her first day, calls a stunt sending one of the cheerleaders home on a stretcher.  This is played to be funny and not given much screen time, so I guess we aren't supposed to feel bad about this girl in a neck brace).  She recruits a punkish cheerleader named Missy (Eliza Dushku, True Lies, the TV series Buffy The Vampire Slayer [and yielding one of the lamest jokes in the film, which is saying something]) who drops a bomb on her...all the routines for the past three years (five is implied, and that original Captain seems like she would have been held back a grade, anyway) have been stolen from a inner-city school, East Compton High Clovers.  The squad wants to keep doing the routines, despite the fact that the Clovers are going to the finals like the Toros are, but eventually, she develops backbone to assert her leadership and create routines to compete in the finals.  And in three weeks, too!  Oh, she also discovers The Sensitive Guy Who Is Perfect For Her, even though she is dating The Big Shot Jock Who Doesn't Really Appreciate Her.  That alone will mark a row to win at Movie Cliche Bingo.
    The movie is directed by Peyton Reed, who has an extensive background in TV work with The Love Bug with Bruce Campbell, The Upright Citizens Brigade, and Mr. Show.  His directing is fine, nothing wrong, but no flair.  Strictly by-the-numbers.  The script is by Jessica Bendinger in her debut outing, and ultimately, this is where the film's problems lie.
    First problem:  the underlying sexism and racism.  Since when are high school cheerleaders given uniforms that expose their midriffs?  Outraged parents would storm the school with tar and feathers if any of their "little angels" were told to dress like that.  But that's not all, folks.  The Toros are given (relatively) conservative sweater jobs, while the all-black inner city school is given halter tops.  The Toros hold a fundraiser through a car wash, featuring a scene where one girl scrubs a car by leaning her breasts on it and moving back and forth.  They raise thousands of dollars in one day with a car wash that would only do better if they lost the cars and installed dancing poles (if they do that, though, they probably want to keep the hoses).  Meanwhile, the inner city school needs a corporate charity donation to get its money for the film's climax, despite the fact that the Captain, Isis (Gabrielle Union), has grey matter that is easily better than Torrance's two-volt brain and should have been able to devise a workable plan, especially considering she had more time.  And despite the fact that the Compton school is run down and horrible, the cheerleading uniforms look store-bought fresh.  Wouldn't an inner city school want money to be spent on, you know, BOOKS?  And what age group is this movie for, anyway?  The first reel features a scene in the girls' locker room where the girls are stripping to their skivvies while the votes for new Captain are taken.  When the TV series Nightingales did that with women in their mid-20's, there were nonstop protests that the display was chauvanist.  Not one complaint about this movie so far.
    The nebulous, not-that-threatening inner city school also creates the film's funniest moment, although it isn't intended to be.  When Missy first takes Torrence to see the Compton Clovers perform at the inner city high school, they drive over in a current year Volkswagen Beetle.  When they come outside after watching, the car has not been stripped or stolen.  Anyone who believes that probably still believes in Santa Claus, too.
    I don't get cheerleading.  I've been to some basketball games and always considered the cheerleaders a distraction.  I recognize it is big, with specials on ESPN and that, but I don't get it.  The film does nothing to bring those of us out of the loop in.  There's no explanation of what moves are being watched, how the scores are tallied, nothing.  So all you can do is watch the routines and be wowwed, and if you don't find cheerleading routines particularly wowwing, then you're pretty much SOL.  Even if you like cheerleading, there are so few actual routines, I'm not sure they'd be entertaining anyway.
    The writing is extremely uneven.  Parts of the movie play like a rip-off of Clueless, with characters concerned with popularity and ego.  Others have an absurdist touch that actually yeilds some dividends, like the scene when the Clovers crash a rally and prove the Toros ripped them off.  Torrence says to her squad, "All those in favor of a new routine, raise your hand," and every hand in the grandstands shoots up.  Others try for some drama and pathos, but the characters are so one-dimensional, you can't get involved with them.  The film also crams in all three of Joe Queenan's Three Standard Plots For Teenager Movies:
1)  You can make it if you try.
2)  You can make it if you try, even if you're from the wrong side of the tracks.
3)  Sooner or later, love is gonna getcha.
    The film tries to be so much, it becomes none of them.  I felt like I had to take a bath after seeing this.  Pass on it.
 
 

Racial humor is wrong.
    Racial humor is bad.
    Unless you're making fun of white folks.  They're fair game.
    Bringing Down The House takes what could have been an interesting look at the lingering racial chasm that exists and instead turns it into something terminally stupid.  The stereotypical behavior of whites is shown as shameful, such as distrusting black escaped convicts, but the stereotypical behavior of blacks is presented as harmless and fun, such as breaking into a house to have a houseparty and teaching the homeowner's young son how to play craps for money.  This is a dangerous double-standard that perpetuates more harm than it stops.
    Steve Martin plays a lawyer whose life is not working out very well.  His wife has left him because he has to take business calls during Moments with her (uh, considering he pays the bills and alimony that maintain their lifestyles, shouldn't she be just a bit more tolerant of this situation?).  His sister in law is constantly finding sugar daddies, but maintains he is a worm who is not worthy of her sister's love.  A youngster at the law firm is looking to weasel his way into Martin's position of influence and land the major client he's working on.  Adding to this is the fact that Martin has been chatting with a woman online.  It turns out she's an escaped convict that looks nothing like the picture she sent (her logic for how it is still technically a picture of her is not acceptable), played by Queen Latifah.  Instead of calling the cops on her after she falls asleep, he tries to simply throw her out.  She breaks into his house and threatens to embarrass him at the country club and the like, costing him his social status unless he helps her, so he agrees to prove her innocence.
    There is a lot here that made me want to slap this movie so hard.  At the country club, a catfight breaks out between Latifah's character and the sister in law, the latter of whom is wearing a swimsuit off the rack at Victoria's Secret.  The scene is too brutal to be funny or sexy, even if you find catfights sexy (I don't.  I just don't get the appeal).  This is done as Robert Palmer's "Simply Irresistable" blares over the soundtrack.  I have no clue what a song about a guy who is suddenly hot for a woman he's know for years with no explanation has to do with two women beating the living shit out of each other.  Afterwards, the sister in law is the only one with any bruises or adverse effects.  The kids turn on a news report of Latifah's escape from prison at the absolute worst moment, but even when it's obvious where the report is going, they don't even make a grab for the off switch, they just leave it run.  The characters are pathetic.  There is no way Martin could go into a black dance club and find the instant acceptance he's afforded.  Latifah is so shrill you can't understand why Martin tolerates her for any length of time.  The movie purports to be about transcending the color barrier, but there is not one interracial kiss shown in the entire film.
    The only part of this movie that is actually enjoyable is the character played by Eugene Levy.  Levy has a thing for black women, and the mere sight of Latifah causes him to start talking hip-hop slang to try to impress her.  His character has depth, too.  In the nightclub scene, Levy finds himself holding a pistol.  He starts tough-talking like he knows he supposed to, but there's a panic in his eyes and voice because he is holding a gun and threatening to take someone's life as he tries to keep himself together.  He is granted far more space to be genuine than anyone else, and, to borrow a phrase from Mark Waid, he stands out like a cockroach on the linoleum.
    This is a movie that, if it was true that political correctness has fostered a new era of understanding, should have been avoided like a theater full of cell phone talkers.  Instead, it has made over $100 mil and a sequel is in the works.  Pathetic.
 
 

From the journals of Peter G:
8-25-01
It all started a few weeks ago when Mariah Carey, promoting a single from her upcoming movie and the first under a new, lucrative contract, flipped out and had to go in a clinic.  Because she would not be able to promote her new movie and album, they were pushed back.  The movie, Glitter, was originally to be one of the last movies of the 2001 summer movie season, the weekend they dump the crap they couldn't market when people weren't thinking about going back to school and such.  It would not see release until September 21.
    This was bad for me, because I was so looking forward to skewering Glitter.  Ever since I got the e-mail from a friend of mine in Hollywood that the movie was unbelievably awful, I was getting ready.  But now it was delayed.  According to Japanese feudal tradition, once a samurai draws his sword, it must taste blood before he may replace it.  I prayed for a movie I could shred so I could relax until Glitter came out.
    This weekend, proof that God hears and answers prayers (or maybe it was Jabootu) came in the form of Bubble Boy.  This movie looked stupid, but I didn't know if it was just stupid or stoopid.  Then I saw an interview a few days before the release, where the director and producer of the movie responded to protests.  There are an estimated 50,000 Americans who have to live in a "clean" environment because they have no immunities, and they felt the movie was unfair ridicule.  The producer or director (I don't remember which) said it wasn't their intent to be offensive and that he didn't even know there was a movie called The Boy In The Plastic Bubble.
    I remember being enveloped in a warm light, so comforting and calming.  Yes.  Yes, this might be what I need.  But was it?  The answer came that Friday, when there wasn't a single review of the movie in the newspapers.  That means it was not shown to preview audiences.  This is a sure sign a studio is trying to sneak a bomb past us, since the critic reviews won't be on the all-important Friday, the first day of the weekend.  This is it, the Heavenly sign.  I walked into the theater with cherubs flying around me, and readied myself for an hour and a half of pure shit.
    Oh, goddammit, is this movie bad.  It's not just stoopid, it's stoooooopid!!!  Bubble Boy is Jimmy Livingston (Jake Gyllenhaal, October Sky and the forthcoming Joyride) lives in suburbia with his disinterested father (John Carroll Lynch) and psychotic mother (Swoozie Kurtz).  When he gets his first erection, she tells him to say the Pledge Of Alligence until it subsides, "just do like I tell your father."  One day, Chloe (Marley Shelton, Sugar & Spice, Valentine), a neighborhood girl, braves peer pressure to visit Jimmy.  Friendship/love blossoms, although both seem too thick to really get it.  One day, Chloe announces she's going to Niagra Falls to marry a wannabe rock musician.  After she leaves, Jimmy decides he loves her and must stop the wedding.  Modifying sections of his bubble room, he makes a bubble suit that he hopes will last long enough for him to get to Niagra Falls.  As he traverses the country, he is pursued by his mom dragging his dad along, and a variety of people Jimmy meets along the way, from cultists who think he is the Choosen One who must be released from his sphere to bring peace and understanding to them to a group of circus freaks.
    There are a couple of laughs to be had here, like when male supermodel Fabio is revealed to be the leader of a cult with an open buffet.  Verne Troyer (Austin Powers:  The Spy Who Shagged Me) also gets some good South Park style laughs as Dr. Phreak.  But the rest of the movie was viewed in stunned silence by everyone else in the theater.  Part of the problem is that the movie is just plain offensive.  They include so many stereotypes that it's amazing the makers weren't sent into a skunkworks to redo the script.  You have offensive Latino stereotypes (a biker with a tendency to want to castrate people for no real reason), offensive Hindu stereotypes (an ice cream/curry truck driver), just about everything in this movie is offensive.  When Jimmy is in a rural American diner and announces he has no immunities, everybody freaks out and the place is accidentally set on fire.  The rural Americans are outside watching while holding pitchforks and other impliments in an obvious nod to Universal's Frankenstein.  Mom and dad are never identified by name.  Their whole identity and function is based on her being an overprotective knee jerk micromanager and him just too weary to even mildly defy.
    Jimmy is the only character given a dose of humanity.  Chloe maintains to her fiance that she wants to save herself until she's married.  But about a half hour earlier in the film, she's tanked on alcohol and tries getting into Jimmy's bubble room to have sex with him.  Huh?  She is incredibly shallow, hooking up with the wannabe almost as soon as Jimmy spurs her sexual advances.  She also, when they are still friends, gives him a guinnea pig in a plastic ball as a gift.  Not only is that teeth-gnashing symbolism, guinnea pigs are crawling with germs.  There is no indication there is a cage or anything in Jimmy's bubble room to keep it in, just the ball.  Come on.  The freaks don't behave as anything other than plot devices, likewise the cultists.  Aside from Jimmy, there isn't a single likable person in this film.
    The directing by Blair Hayes in his debut outing is better than the material, and at times fits like a three dollar shirt.  He occassionally uses the bubble room set to really underscore Jimmy's isolation from the world.  But some scenes, like where Jimmy is stalked through the desert by a vulture trying to penetrate the bubble suit, don't come across as funny, but very very sad.
    Before I go any further, I want to complain about the sound mix.  There is waaaaaaay too much treble.  Hearing it in a digital theater hurts your ears with all the sharp sounds.
    The script by Cinco Paul with an assist from Ken Daurio and another from Michael Kalesniko (Private Parts) takes this road movie/The Graduate rip-off and makes it very dull.  The worst, though, is the ending.  SPOILER WARNING:  I will be discussing the resolution of this movie in detail.  If you are stupid enough to want to see it for yourself, skip this section pronto!!!  Jimmy gets to the church after mom and dad have come to pick him up and dad lets him get away and a fall in the bubble suit down Niagra Falls.  With everyone who has been following him through the movie at the church, Jimmy comes out of the bubble suit because "I would rather die and hold you in my arms just once."  After kissing and holding Chloe, he falls to the ground to accept his fate.  Mom and dad are standing over him, and dad is urging mom, "Tell him."
    After some prodding, mom leans over Jimmy and says, "You aren't dying.  You got immunities when you were four.  I just wanted to protect you."
    Now, I don't care how peaceful you are.  If you just found out your mom made you a captive in your own home, restricting everything you do by lying about no immunities, the first thing you'd do it punch her good and hard.  But Jimmy just gets up, smiles, and Chloe rushes into his arms.  It ends with them getting married with everyone from the movie, including the vulture, at the ceremony.
    There's a lot of problems with this, besides it being unbelievably lame.  When dad encourages Jimmy to make it to Niagra Falls, why didn't he tell him then?  Oh, if he did, Jimmy would have dumped the bubble suit and we wouldn't have him going over Niagra Falls in it.  That also explains why mom did freak about the guinnea pig in the bubble room.  But shouldn't Chloe have thought of it?  Also, mom if she wants to maintain her cover?  END SPOILER WARNING!  Thank you and God bless.
    Bubble Boy is a plain and simple mess.  It died a deservedly fast death at the box office.  Watching it is not unlike watching Chatterbox where you keep asking yourself, "Didn't anybody think?"  Apparently not.  A true find, a big budget crap movie, but those not conditioned for these things should stay away.
 
 

Here in America, Disney is the top dog with animation.  It's like with video games--the contest doesn't go to the best, but the best marketed.  Disney can seemingly do no wrong with animation, and no one else has much of a shot at getting a foot in the door.  All the talent goes there.
    Hello, Nick Park, a fellow from England who is an animation genius.  Disney wishes its staff was as good as him.  Working with Aardman Animation, he created the wonderful Wallace And Gromit shorts, the first getting an Oscar nomination and the other two winning it.  DreamWorks signs him to a three picture deal, and the result is the best animated movie in years.
    Chicken Run does not play as an animal rights piece.  Instead, it tells a story of "overbearing boss and abused employees" inside a framework from The Great Escape.  Park has the guts to admit the inspiration--one chicken, thrown in a coal pit as punishment, passes time by bouncing a rubber ball against the wall like Steve McQueen did.  In a reference to another WWII prison movie, most of the action takes place at Chicken Hut 17 (a riff on Stalag 17).  Needless to say, this is one movie grown-ups are likely to enjoy more than their kids, and a working knowledge of movie history will add a whole new level of enjoyment.
    The chicken farm is run by Mrs. Tweedy and her henpecked (no pun intended) husband.  Mrs. Tweedy is clearly the boss and is cold as ice, a classic movie villian.  She hates having a chicken farm because there is almost no money in it, and her cruelty is reflected in her treatment of the birds.  Every day she takes inventory and if she catches any chicken not putting out its quota, she doesn't give it a second chance, she kills it immediately and eats it for dinner.  One scene shows the other chickens watching as she drops the cleaver and we see the bones on the dinner table later.
    Mrs. Tweedy is not aware she actually has an opponent.  Her name is Ginger, and she is the defacto leader of the chickens.  When she isn't making her quota of eggs, she is continually plotting everyone's escape.  As she points out in a later scene, "The problem isn't getting one chicken out, or two, or even three.  It's getting ALL of them out."  Her plans are actually quite elaborate, involving digging tunnels to the other side of the gate or using a giant mannequin to disguise everyone as Mrs. Tweedy and getting them past the guard dogs.  But something invariably goes awry, the chickens are put back in the coop, and Ginger is thrown in the coal pit as pennance.  Mr. Tweedy, in fact, suspects that the chickens are quite intelligent and plotting something, but Mrs. Tweedy dismisses them as stupid animals and won't listen.  She continues with her vicious plans to install a pot pie machine and finally make herself rich.
    One day, Rocky the Rooster literally flies into the coop.  Ginger agrees to hide him so he doesn't have to return to the circus, but in exchange, he has to teach the chickens how to fly once his wing heals up.  During this time, genuine tension fills the air as the new pot pie machine is installed and Rocky wrestles with his conscience.
    The movie is genuinely involving.  Unlike the slick, prepackage entertainment pumped out of Disney lately, this movie has genuine characters, witty writing, and excellent acting.  Rocky is voiced by Mel Gibson, and it's probably his best pure acting performance instead of imbuing a character to his personality (see the Lethal Weapon movies for an example).  But the real star is Nick Park's animation.  The man has outdone himself.  Not only is the movie a technical marvel, is a directing accomplishment, too.  One of the best scenes in the movie comes when the chickens figure out Rocky can't really fly.  They stare at a poster of him in the chicken yard as rain falls around them.  It's done without computer animation and is not only an amazing shot from an animation standpoint, the pathos the chickens feel when they realize escape may be impossible wrenches your heart.
    The movie has the classic dry British wit and everything about it is top drawer.  Worth full price.
 
 

Hello, and welcome to the Cultural Exchange Program (or at least as close as I get) here at Keeping It Reel, a subsidiary of Block 37 Internet Activities And Kamikazee Card Gaming ("Screw poker") Battlion.  While discussing the joys of Mystery Science Theater 3000 and South Park with Liz Kingsley from the And You Call Yourself A Scientist! site, we discovered a mutual irration that has been traced to a common source--Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter.  After snickering over his portrayal at the hands of Trey Parker and Matt Stone, I mentioned that there was a Croc Hunter movie in the works, and it wouldn't be direct-to-video.  I heard her shriek all the way from Australia.
    I had suggested a movie review exchange--I would review Croc Hunter if she would review the regular cut of Wild Wild World Of Batwoman, which she has as an MST3K DVD (showing once again that Australians have excellent taste and us Americans suck.  Sure, we sent them Joel and the 'bots, but remember, they get Kylie Minogue who can actually sing and act, and we get Britney Spears, who can do neither).  Needless to say, neither of us is looking forward to keeping our end of the deal, but the show must go on.  After throwing myself on grenades like Freddy Got Fingered (you son of a bitch, Chester), Battlefield Earth, Glitter, and Zoolander, I expected Croc Hunter to be bad but not nearly enough to trigger my survival instincts like those other movies did.  So I've seen it, and in deference to Liz and Australia, I have not resized the image for the movie poster, a gesture I'm sure she'll appreciate.  And so, without further ado, this one's going out to the ladies....
    Well, the movie does indeed require survival instincts.  Turns out, in the theater, there's nowhere to hide and nothing to distract you from the Awesome Power That Is Steve Irwin.  If you find his personality as irritating as I do, this is going to rank somewhere between nails on a chalk board and Gumby episodes in German.  He is still doing those things like needlessly provoking the animals and other stuff that should have every PETA member screaming for his head.  While holding a snake that I think he identifies as a royal brown snake (hell, no, I don't want to see the movie again to find out what it is), he strings together two sentences he shouldn't.  "This snake is just like people.  All it wants to do is get away from me."  Now, I'm sure he meant it wanted solitude, but all I could do is nod at the screen and say, "I feel your pain."
    The movie starts with a satellite in space manuvering and suddenly destructing, which I'm willing to bet is where most of the film's $10-12 mil budget went.  It blows up, but the "black box" with all the data falls to earth, where it is immediately eaten by a crocodile.  Irwin comments that the croc is big and tough.  I'll say.  It didn't even give the black box a chance to cool off from re-entry.  Two different branches of the US government deploy agents to recover the box;  whoever's agent gets it first, that superior will get a promotion.  Then there's some farm woman whose cows are getting picked off by the croc that ate the black box, trying to shoot it.  And then there's Irwin himself, doing his usual thing.  Literally.  His screen time is just like the TV show, with him and his American wife (there's a ringing endorsement of American men if she'd rather marry him) addressing the camera to explain to people what is going on with the animals, and occassionally using a voice over during long shots.  In fact, any scene involving Irwin has a nasty cinematic habit.  The film is shot in regular theatrical ratio, except Irwin's stuff, which gets black bars on each side of the screen to frame it closer to regular TV ratio.  The first time I saw it, I thought the theater screwed up and forgot to move the curtains in to help close in the screen.  Nope.  Not the problem.
    All these elements are tied together with the flimsiest of plot threads.  In fact, Irwin doesn't interact with the US agents until the very end, and never runs into the farm lady at all.  It feels like they took three movies, put them in a blender, and hit "Mix."  The US agents are depicted as total boobs, one of whom is trigger happy despite it being a simple retreival mission.  I guess this is Australia's payback for the mighty Americans in Independence Day.  The farm lady plot is actually negligible--it could have been edited out and it wouldn't have made a difference.  And Steve?  Well, for a guy so intelligent, he acts like Mick Dundee and Inspector Frank Drebbin had a kid.  He is so clueless that he regards the US operatives as poachers and never seems to figure out something is amiss.  The movie gets amusing when the US operatives use a Crocodile Hunter episode guide to establish Irwin is actually a superspy.  "The Australia Zoo recently announced it was getting a $40 million dollar expansion.  You don't make that kind of money on basic cable."  But other than that, not much here.
    I don't get the appeal of Steve Irwin any more than I get wrestling.  Could have been much better.  Duh.
 
 

Here's the dirt:  a practically no name cast (Samuel L. Jackson is not any kind of focal point here) with special effects, and certain people behind the scenes.  The result is another movie that makes me wonder why I'm having such a tough time getting scripts sold.
    As soon as you know the undersea research facility is practically isolated, or will only take minimum effort to become that, you know you're dealing with a slasher movie where the killer picks off the victims one by one.  This research facility is lead by Dr. Susan McAlester (Saffron Burrows, Wing Commander, The Loss Of Sexual Innocence, Time Code).  They are trying to find a cure for Alzheimer's Disease by using chemicals that enhance brain cell growth.  Not a bad idea.  Their research animals used to generate it demonstrate that the scientists can use a jolt of what they're working on themselves.  Giant sharks are used.  Pop quiz:  what happens?  Answer:  The sharks' brains have increased to the point where they are intelligent.  They cut off the facility from the outside world, flood it, and start eating the humans there one by one.  The humans, meanwhile, are trying to get out of the collapsing facility and reach stable ground until rescue vessels arrive.
    The film is written by Duncan Kennedy in his debut outing and Donna and Wayne Powers (the standard issue slasher flick Valentine, Skeletons In The Closet, Taming Of The Small, and several episodes of the TV series The Equalizer).  They no doubt didn't write so much as transcribe the ideas of the producer and director, though.  The director is Renny Harlin, The Man Who Torpedoed Geena Davis' Carreer (Born American, Nightmare On Elm Street 4, Die Hard 2, The Adventures Of Ford Fairlane, Cliffhanger, Cutthroat Island, and Long Kiss Goodnight).  The producer is Akiva Goldsman, who seems to delight in stories that are all action and no sense (Batman Forever, Batman & Robin, Lost In Space, Practical Magic).  The cast is trapped like the characters in the movie among creatures that delight in chewing scenery and making people wonder, "Was this really such a good idea?"
    As a guy who was riveted by Jaws, let me first address the technical inaccuracies of the sharks.  One scene shows the Thomas Jane character Carter Blake, the resident macho hero and automatically one who will be spared, swimming to check on the sharks.  They get close to the cage and he aims a spear gun at them.  The swim backwards to get away from the weapon.  The fact that they recognize he is holding a weapon is not nearly as amazing as the fact that sharks can't swim backwards--their gills can't force water over them to draw oxygen, so they have to keep swimming forward.  They can't stand still, and they can't go in reverse.  This is partly rectified in a scene in the facility where they extract the chemical from the shark's brain to test it.  They are forcing water into its mouth while Blake rubs it and pets it like Sea World employees do the orcas and dolphins.  Problem Number Two--shark skin is made up of thousands of tiny scales that cut in an instant.  Brushing up against one will tear skin to rags.  Oops.  The sharks behave like plot devices in the Alien 4:  Resurrection movie.  There's no real rhyme or reason to their actions, they just show up when the scene needs them.  They swim through flooded parts of the facility with no problem despite looking much too big in many scenes.  They also demonstrate a technique for biting every human in two with one shot, but they can't get a bead on Blake and can only clamp down on the cook's leg and take him for a ridiculously long drag.
    The sharks aren't the only things given inconsistent treatment.  The glass windows for the underwater parts of the facility require the sharks use a battering ram to crack it, but glass on an oven door is strong enough to protect the person inside from a shark as he plots his escape.  I don't write this stuff, folks, I just report it.
    The cast is okay, nothing special.  McAlester electrocutes a shark before the film's climax by taking off her rubber wet suit, standing on it, and dropping a cable on the shark.  But she's already wearing rubber footies, which would insulate just as well as standing on the suit.  This scene must be there so us guys can look at her in her underwear and have a cheap erotic thrill.  I appreciate the thought, but not only is Burrows way too skinny (for Chrissake, eat a Double Whopper!), I found myself marveling that a scientist would be wearing sexy underclothes when she had no intention of anyone seeing her in them.  Thomas Jane does a by-the-numbers performance as the by-the-numbers shark wrangler.  Samuel L. Jackson actually injects some credibility to his corporate executive Russell Franklin, but it's a pointless task, especially when his character is killed off for an apparent laugh.  Jacqueline McKenzie is another scientist so enamored of her work that, when the shark in the facility goes nuts, she releases it before Blake can shoot it.  How many times have we seen that cliche before.  The most annoying role, though, goes to LL Cool J as Preacher, the facility cook, a recovering alcoholic, and a religious type.  He's a guiding parental influence, which is usually reserved for black actresses instead of actors.  The change in stereotypical roles enables him to crack in one scene that, "Brothers always get it in situations like this!"  He provides very weak comic relief, such as when leaving his message in case he dies, not talking about his religious convictions and how the situation challenged his faith, but how to make a perfect omlette.  The best actress is the late and sorely missed Mary Kay Bergman (South Park, The Iron Giant) as the voice of Preacher's parrot.  Have I made my point now?
    Renny Harlin, Akiva Goldsman, science as precise as that in Reefer Madness, special effects intended to be spectacular that look as phony as any rubber suited Godzilla, and an easy-to-determine succession of "Who will be killed, who will survive?"  Summer movie junkies know better than to sip from a cocktail with these ingredients.  There are no thrills here that aren't in a dozen better movies and hundred of worse ones.  Find one of those.
 
 

I am a Kevin Smith fan.  I love his ear for dialogue, and apparently so does he.  Smith's movies are largely the characters talking to each other, expressing and exploring ideas.  This works great with his first three movies, Clerks, Chasing Amy, and Mallrats (I feel he's giving himself a bum rap with that last movie.  He claims it was stupid, but it's still smarter and funny than 90% of the bull coming out now).  Now, he attempts to combine this knack for intellectual discourse with an actual story, and the result is Dogma.
    Dogma draws heavily on Smith's own Catholic ideas, which, as a guy who was raised a fish eater, I can groove to.  Rather than telling a story about the End Times, Smith creates an interesting scenario which automatically puts points on the board.  Long ago, two angels, Bartelby and Loki, were booted out of Heaven for being rebellious.  They were consigned to Wisconsin for all eternity.  One day, they hit on an idea.  There is a new PR campaign to mainstream Catholicism, which culminates in the Plenary Indulgence.  This is an old ceremony where anyone who passes through the door of a church as decreed by a holy figure is automatically absolved of all sin.  If Bartleby and Loki go through, their crime has to be forgiven since God has promised whatever mankind has deemed to hold true about their faith, he will honor.  This, however, will constitute an error on God's part.  Since God's infallibility is the glue holding His (or Her, it turns out) universe together, the fallen angels' act will unravel Reality.  Even as this possibility takes hold of them, Bartleby and Loki don't want to be out of Heaven anymore.  The Metatron, God's messenger, recruits a woman named Bethany (Linda Farentino).  She's lost her faith after a botched abortion left her sterile.  Still, she decides to at least try to stop the angels with the help of Rufus (Chris Rock), the thirteenth Apostle, and two prophets, "one speaks a lot, the other not at all."  Yup, it's Jay and Silent Bob.
    Smith's uncanny characterization is out in full force, along with his unique sense of humor.  He does a remarkable job making everything fit.  The characters are all slaves to their flaws, from Rufus not being able to tell Bethany why specifically she has to stop the angels to Bethany herself, wrestling with a faith she has denied out of spite.  Along the way, there's a mystery to solve about why God isn't stopping the angels directly.  George Carlin turns in a great performance in probably the closest he will ever get to Holy Orders.
    It is a tribute to Smith's skill that two rather large plot holes go unnoticed in the course of the film.  One is, of course, why the fallen angels didn't think of this sooner, and the other is, Where is everybody?  Serendipity and the Metatron play key supporting roles in the quest, but there's no mention of Jesus, the Holy Spirit, Raphael, Michael, Gabriel, Mary, or other key figures in the Catholic religion.  You'd think they'd want to be involved.  But those quibbles are overlooked once the movie starts and the characters start acting in a way you would swear real individuals would.  A terrific movie with a wonderfully sweet message, there are parts that may confuse and result in continuity gaffes.  But the film isn't just supposed to entertain, it's supposed to encourage thought.  Give it a whirl, and experience wonder again.
 
 

Making role-playing games into movies is an iffy idea for two reasons.  First, RPG's have more time to unfold--video game RPG's alone take an average of fifty hours to complete, board-based RPG's are open ended, and American movies rarely last more than two hours.  Combine this with the fact that the plot of most RPG's is to wander around, build up your character's skill, let others join your party, until you reach the big boss enemy at the end of the game.  Not exactly story progression.  Anyone who thinks this is fine for a movie should check out Robot Holocaust, which used an RPG structure before they entered gamer culture.
    While Dungeons And Dragons has video games, it is primarily a board-based RPG, with a kajillion books kids play at lunch tables in high schools around the country for the last decade or more.  In high school, some friends invited me to join their gaming group, but no one really explained to me what I was supposed to be doing or what was going on, so my first experience was my last.  You'd think this means I wouldn't be able to follow the movie since my background in it is so shallow as opposed to, say, Pokemon.  But background isn't needed to watch this movie.  Neither is a brain.
    D&D takes place in the mythical country of Izmer.  There is a power struggle going on between the mages which rule all and Empress Savina, who wants the commoners and mages to be equal.  This whole conflict is simply arbitrary.  It doesn't really factor into the other characters, how they behave, or how the different elements of the world relate to each other.  It's just an excuse so they don't say, "These are the good guys, these are the bad guys, on with the story."  Opposing the Empress is Profion, played by Jeremy Irons (!).  Profion wants to overthrow the Empress and rule the land, and uses her "radical" ideas to turn the council of mages against her.  She, however, has a scepter that lets her command yellow dragons.  He either needs to grab the yellow scepter or find the rumored "red scepter" that controls red dragons.
    Into this mess comes a pair of theives, the Justin Whalin character Ridley Freeborn (Freeborn.  Get it?) and Snails, played by the unfunniest of the Wayans clan, Marlon.  They try to rob the magic school, wouldn't you know it, just as Profion sends his Crimson Guard, led by Damodar, to grab the mystic map from the Empress's advisor.  The advisor's assistant, Marina (Zoe McLellan), grabs the map and drags the two theives with her, and they are on the run, acquiring a rather large dwarf in the process.
    The above makes the movie seem more compitent than it really is.  Let me first address the fact that Marlon Wayans should be embarrassed by his role as Snails.  He and Ridley are both thieves, but Snails is the only one who is constantly grabbing stuff as he goes while Ridley tries to stop him, making statements about honor among thieves and the like.  The only time Ridley acts like a thief comes later in the film, after Snails dies--yes, once again, BGIF (Brother Gets It First).  He is in the room with the red scepter, starts to grab the gold coins, but puts them back saying, "Sorry, Snails."  But that's not the only stereotype exhibited in the role.  Snails is a rather clumsy thief, making poor judgement choices and being uncoordinated, shucking and jiving his way through the movie like a medievil Steppin Fetchit, right down to a scene where Ridley and Snails caution each other to be careful just before Snails smacks his head on the doorway.
    The writing is nothing short of atrocious.  There is a clumsy mix of modern language and faux-Shakespearian meters.  There are overbearing, grandious speeches, with the debate between Savina and Profion sounding like it was written for a junior-high play.  It alternates its tone between light entertainment and heavy drama without any transitions.  Every element, from class warfare to the battle of the sexes to standing up for what you believe in, feels like it's thrown in.  The only time the script flirts with being interesting is when Ridley has to negotiate a maze to get a gem called the Dragon's Eye, but it is over way too quick.  Ridley and Marina literally warp into the map in one scene, and come out allies.  It is never explained why, so chalk it up to IITS (It's In The Script).  There is also no real sense that this is an actual world.  There's nothing showing the different groups of elves, halflings, dwarves, humans, etc. relating to each other.  You could change everyone to humans living with dragons and nothing would change.
    Speaking of dragons, maybe I'm spoiled by the epic renderings from anime, movies like Dragonheart, and RPG's like Lunar, but the dragons in this movie don't look right.  Maybe it is the build, the muscle over bone that looks wrong, but the dragons just don't seem like dragons.
    The directing by Courtney Solomon, who optioned the whole thing a decade ago, is rotten.  If there was anyone who needed film school, this guy does.  Part of it is his location photography.  We are treated to some very nice external views of the castles and structures to establish location (all done in CGI where the camera rotates around as it pans up, all motion stopping on the window of the room the action takes place in).  But when we actually get inside, everything is stripped of detail.  It was shot in Prague, but could have been anywhere, mythical kingdom or not.  There is no sense of place, no character.  Once again, see the above comment about the characters interacting.  Adding insult to injury was the fact that the trailer for the Final Fantasy movie ran before the D&D, and in 2 1/2 minutes, established a far more fantastic and involving land than this movie did with its 1:42 running time.  Even the film's climactic fight between squadrons of red and yellow dragons is not as exciting or dazzling as it should have been.
    You might think the actors are doing the best they can with what they have, but no.  Jeremy Irons in particular overacts so bad, you'd think he was channeling the spirit of the guy who played Dr. Smith on the Lost In Space TV series.  Everything is wide-eyed and overbearing.  The only time this lets up is during action sequences, when the foley work is so loud, it drowns out any and all dialogue.  Let us give thanks.
    The music score is adequate.  Any Japanese RPG video game, from Grandia to Legend Of Zelda, is more involving, unique, and underscores the action better.  Like all other aspects of the film, no juice, no distinguishing marks or scars.
    Anytime a film is made about something from a new medium, the first result leaves something to be desired.  The first movie based on a board game, Clue, was mediocre.  The first movie based on a video game, Super Mario Bros., was mediocre.  The first movie based on a board-based RPG, Dungeons And Dragons, isn't mediocre, it is flat out bad.  As it is the only really popular game of its kind, we should be spared further dreck.  God has shown mercy on his creation.  Let us rejoice and be glad.
 
 

How in the hell did Disney wind up with this Mark Dindal guy?
    The Emperor's New Groove feels like a throwaway project, made to keep Disney's name out there during the holidays and pulling in those family movie dollars.  It doesn't have the epic, sweeping scope of the summer offerings like Mulan and the like.  It doesn't have the typical Disney motto of, "You should just be yourself." And aside from the theme, done in the opening and the close, there are NO musical numbers or set pieces.  The animation isn't as ornate, being enough to keep from being jerky but no bells or whistles--even the standard issue parallax scrolling is rare here.  The cast is extremely small, with four characters propelling the movie and a handful of supporting roles.  All this means one thing:  an opportunity to make the best Disney animated movie in years.
    Mark Dindal has siezed on it with both hands.  It's almost like, the white shirts didn't expect the movie to be a hit, and let him do whatever he wanted.  The result is an unDisney movie that had me roaring with laughter and loving every minute of it.
    Emperor Kuzco (David Spade) has the world at his feet and loves it.  He is self-centered, overbearing, and doesn't give a rip.  This is expressed in the opening theme where he goes through his day, using a rubber stamp to kiss babies without changing posture in his throne and christening a ship brought into the palace for his convenience.  Yzma, the Emperor's advisor played by Eartha Kitt, gets fired and decides to try poisoning the Emperor before word gets out so she can keep her job.  Her helper, Kronk (Patrick Warburton), bungles the potions, however, and Kuzco gets turned into a llama instead.  Kronk is supposed to dispose of Kuzco, but he botches that, too.  Kuzco winds up with Pacha (John Goodman), a peasant Kuzco is trying to relocate so he can build a vacation home where Pacha's village is.  Pacha leads Kuzco back to the palace, hoping to teach him humanity as they stay a step ahead of Yzma.
    The story is standard, but Dindal is what makes the movie different.  He has a flair, speed, and timing reminicient of the glory days of Tex Avery.  He hits you with so many gags in such quick succession, it can take your breath away.  He also lets every character shine with their own personality, right down to Kronk's "shoulder angel", who is delayed appearing and when he shows up, is sitting in a salon chair with a hair dryer on his head.  Each character has character, and reacts accordingly.  Dindal, who had a hand in the story, also keeps things interesting by allowing the bad guys to benefit from blind luck as often as the good guys, right down to Kronk explaining how they got ahead of Kuzco and Pacha after falling down a ravine by producing a chart of the paths and saying, "It defies explanation."  The characters also grasp the unDisney concept of "revenge," from Pacha to a squirrel you really don't want to fuck with.  There are gags where the characters are aware they are in a movie, too, like when Kuzco argues with his movie voice-over.  The story slows a bit when Kuzco starts to develop his humanity, but that is slow.  You wonder if there was another path that would have yeilded more dividends.  But that's fine.  A terrific movie that any fan of classic cartoons will love, Disney should be aiming here instead.
 
 

Ivan Reitman is a nice guy producer who likes trying stuff that's different.  Among the high marks he has earned is for Ghostbusters, a movie that successfully blended sci-fi, fantasy, and comedy.  He does stumble once in a while, like with Oscar and Junior, but he usually seems to have his pulse on doing something different.
    The problem comes up when doing something different feels like something done before.  Evolution comes across on paper as a blend of Ghostbusters and Men In Black.  It is a very solid movie that, unfortunately, is not quite what is advertised.
    Ira Kane, played by David Duchovny (Red Shoe Diaries, Playing God, Twin Peaks, and I think that's it for his resume *joke*) is a science (I don't recall a specific branch mentioned) professor at Glen Canyon Community College in Arizona.  His friend is Harry Block, played by Orlando Jones (Saturday Night Live, Double Take, and those 7-Up commercials), a professor of geology and coach of the college's volleyball team.  One night, a meteor crashes outside Glen Canyon, where it blows up the car of aspiring fireman Wayne Green (Seann William Scott, Dude, Where's My Car?  It's about three hundred feet in the air and about to land on your head).  It falls into an underground cavern.  Taking samples to examine, Kane discovers single cell organisms multiplying so fast the droplet eventually spills out of the microscope slide.  When he brings Block in to see it a few minutes later, they have become multicelled microorganisms.  Whereas life on Earth has four basic amino acids in their DNA, this stuff has ten.  Evolution is occuring at a staggering rate.
    The organisms are nitrogen based, and any exposure to oxygen kills them, but Kane and Block suspect it won't be long until they are oxygen tolerant.  Suddenly, Dr. Woodman (Ted Levine), Kane's old commander in the Army, shows up with an agent from the Center For Disease Control in tow, Allison Reed (Julianne Moore).  Hacking into Kane's computer, the feds are now dealing with this after shutting down Kane's legal manuvering by exposing an Army innoculation he screwed up on.  Kane and Block initially see the meteor as their ticket out of small town life and into some kind of respectibility.  They are mouring the loss when several creatures break out of caverns, running rampant through Glen Canyon.  Woodman is an Army brass boob, and it falls to Kane and Block, with Green and Reed eventually in tow, to stop the meteor creatures or, in a matter of two months, all indigenous life in America becomes extinct.
    Damn, that's a fine set up for a movie, and the intelligence is one of its strengths.  It is so refreshing to use words like "indigenous" in a review and not wonder if I'm really describing the movie I am.  Unlike a lot of movies that just reduce things to a shoot-'em-up contest, this one actually progresses.  I'm not sure how accurate the science is, but it does follow some basic logic.  With the exception of two supporting characters, everyone has some intelligence, wit, and verve.  Kane seems like a normal person who is exceptionally smart--he has access to an astonishing amount of knowledge but still behaves like a normal person, mooning Woodman early in the film.  Admittedly, he's doing the deadpan work Bill Murray does so well, but he seems more brainy and concerned with the situation than self-aggrandizing characters like Peter Venkman.  Block is an especially remarkable construct.  He's a black person with a brilliant mind, possessed of intelligence and wit who doesn't react like other black characters in these kinds of movies.  He and Kane make quite a duo, each perfectly in sync.  When a pteranadon-type lizard is flying through a shopping mall that Kane, Block, and Green are chasing, Green can't resist singing on an abandonned microphone.  Kane tells Block to get out of the way so he can shoot him, and Block says no, he wants to shoot him himself.  Neither is subservient to the other, they are equals, a refreshing change of pace in movies.
    Some of the character touches are very nice.  One scene in particular, after dispatching the pteranadon, has them riding in the jeep to see Woodman while jamming out to "Play That Funky Music".  In a nod to the movie's assertion that not all evolutions are good, the original version by Wild Cherry is playing, not the far more bragging version by Vanilla Ice.  I have had moments like that, where something difficult finally goes right and a song on the radio, between the beat and attitude, fits so well it becomes a momentary anthem for that moment on the soundtrack of my life.  Very nice.  There is a shot at Duchovny's previous acting experience that not only feeds the plot, but is a good inside joke ("Shouldn't we tell the government?"  "No, no, I know these guys."  Although it doesn't occur in the same setting it does in the previews).  Unfortunately, other characters need some more time in the oven before they are done.  Reed is played mainly for laughs by being clumsy, but doesn't seem to contribute much aside from the obligatory love intrest for Duchovny.  During the scene where she exposes what got Kane kicked out of the Army, there is a distinct lack of emotion from Kane despite the obvious relish Reed has when she makes him look like a chump.  Their relationship is handled very maturely, but there is still a slight sticking point that makes you say, "Wait a minute," when the credits roll.  Woodman is particularly shunted.  He is the typical selfish ass in Army clothes.  Whereas Peck in Ghostbusters was a prick, he was motivated by viewing Venkman's disdain for general authority as a personal affront.  Woodman doesn't seem like a character so much as a plot device, there to draw the boos.  Governor Lewis (Dan Aykroyd) is in only a few scenes, but he behaves in two distinct ways, an authority figure and an overbearing authority figure, with no real buffer between the two.
    So why am I not more enthusiastic about the film if it does so much right?  It takes a while for the answer to hit.  The script by David Diamond, David Weissman, and Don Jakoby is servicable enough and smartly written.  One nice touch is when Woodman activates the napalm bomb in the climax early just because he can instead of sticking to the schedule, sidestepping a potential IITS (It's In The Script) moment.  But there aren't really enough funny moments to qualify the movie as a comedy, especially when a lot of the humor, like the butt jokes, feel stitched on.
    The movie's ultimate problem is one of scope.  It seems awfully confined in the number of principals for something so large.  Reitman's directing also seems restricted by the settings instead of inspired by them.  It lacks a sense of scope.  The music score by John Powell is also wrong.  During scenes like the chase through the shopping mall, it implies a more majestic and expansive movie than what is happening on the screen at that moment.
    This can be chalked up to misled expectations, though.  If you don't go in expecting a laugh a minute, this is a very good movie.  It won't exactly blow you away, but it flows well and treats the audience like it has a brain.  At least see it so Hollywood sees the box office figures and decides to make more of them.
 
 

"I pick up this ant and I hold it up to me.  I put it down, and it says to the other ants, 'I just saw something incredible!'  And they say, 'What?  What is it?'  And he can't describe it."
    -G'Kar (some paraphrasing, that's from memory)
      Babylon 5

In 1997, Hironobu Sakaguchi directed Final Fantasy VII (Fainaru fantaji 7 in Japan), the first installment in the classic game series on the Sony Playstation.  Incorporating cinematic cutscenes to advance the game along, something brand new thanks to the CD format, Sakaguchisan raised the bar for RPG's forever.  But he was intrigued by what the software was capable of, and began talking to Square, the distributor of the Final Fantasy series, about making a movie.  Sakaguchisan got $115-140 million from Square to make his vision.  He set up neutral ground in Hawaii, bringing animators from Japan and America.  He sat each of them at one of 960 Silicon Graphics Octane computers.  The windows were covered with drapes, sheets, whatever, shutting out the outside world as Sakaguchisan created his masterpiece.
    Us video game fans, hearing he was overseeing the creation, became curious and excited.  This wasn't Hollywood taking a property and injecting things into it, this was his own vision.  It would succeed or fail on his own efforts, as all art should.  For three years, we prayed it would be as visionary as the man behind it.
    Then we saw the first trailer, and we collectively wet ourselves.
    The release date of July 11, 2001 seemed an eternity, even longer because that was a Wednesday and there was no way I could see it before the weekend.  Just in case you don't get the point that I was really looking forward to this movie.  One of the keys to the success of Final Fantasy is whatever you take out of the game can survive on its own--the music, the story, the game mechanics, anything. The movie promised to be completely stand alone, you wouldn't have to have played any of the games to follow what's going on.  (This actually isn't that tough, since the only thing the games have in common are creatures called chocobos that people ride, they take place on different planets with different characters in different situations.)  The question is:  does it live up to the anticipation?
    I can answer that with one word:   GooooooooooooooooodDAM!
    Final Fantasy--The Spirits Within runs on a story whose quality is on the same level as the works of Isaac Asimov or Robert Heinlen.  It is set in the year 2065.  34 years earlier, a meteorite crashed on Earth, bringing with it strange aliens called Phantoms.  They are physical, able to be shot with bullets or blown up with explosives, but they can also pass through solid matter.  They infect people with particles that destroy them from the inside out or literally rip their souls from their bodies.  Mankind is on the run, hiding in cities under protective energy shields.  General Hein (James Woods), who lost his family in a Phantom attack, is so full of hatred he wants the Phantoms dead, by his own hand if possible.  He has constructed the Zeus Cannon, orbiting above the Earth and ready to fire on the meteorite.  Dr. Sid (Donald Sutherland) however, is concerned about this.  He has proven the existence of lifeforce energy in the Phantoms, humans, and all living things.  Unifying this is Gaia, the Earth spirit.  Sid and his assistant, Dr. Aki Ross (Ming-Na), have discovered the Phantoms' lifeforce energy patterns.  Concerned the cannon could destroy not just the aliens but damage or kill the Earth and all life on it as well, they are trying to find eight spirit waves.  When combined, the eight will be in direct opposition to the Phantoms' own waves and eliminate them, saving the planet.  They have six of them and are searching for the last two.  As Ross searches with Capt. Grey Edwards (Alec Baldwin) of the Deep Eyes and his squad consisting of techie Neil (Steve Buscemi), Jane Proudfoot (Peri Gilpin), and Ryan (Ving Rhames), Hein puts a plan in motion to convince the council to let him fire the Zeus cannon.
    As this is a Japanese story, it does not follow the two-goal three-act story structure, and is a better movie for it.  The events unfold without that hint of, "We need this for the next plot division and/or point".  It lacks a sense of arbitrary action, thank God.  Also, it does not take a grand idea and dumb it down to turn things into a blastathon like with The 6th Day.  Anyone familiar with the Final Fantasy games and their attention to plot and the themes of love, loss, honor, revenge, humanity, and other theaters of experience will be right at home here.  The dialogue is beautiful, and triggers genuine emotions.  Ross tells Edwards about finding the fifth spirit wave in a 7 year old girl dying in a hospital.  Ross told her everything has a spirit--dogs, cats, birds, trees, little girls.  When they die, they are just returning home to the Earth spirit.  The girl tells her she's ready to die and Ross doesn't have to make up stories to make her feel better.
    How is the computer animation?  It blows away anything you have ever seen before.  One scene in Hein's office shows dust particles drifting through slatted sunlight in the General's window.  Ross' physique, I should note, is trim and tone, not some pneumatic wet dream like Lara Croft.  On the big screen, not just the IMAX one where I saw a screening of this, she has freckles and lines in her face.  While real actors do all they can to eliminate imperfections, the animators provide them here.  Gray's five o'clock shadow isn't the result of discoloring in the face, there are actual stubble hairs.  Sometimes, the lip flaps for the dialogue don't sync up, and there are some moments where things get stiff.  But they are astonishingly rare.  Dr. Sid in particular is so well done, you wonder if they digitized an actual person and just inserted him in the film instead of drawing him out with a computer.  There are scenes where you literally can't tell it is computer generated.  Forget everything you have seen before.
    There is one place where the movie doesn't duplicate the quality of the games it is based on.  That's the music.  The games use a variety of sweeping instruments and wide-ranging styles to convey magnitude and scope.  The movie score by Elliot Goldenthal, however, mainly uses allegros or kettle drums.  Not only that, but the music seems composed not towards conveying the action but to be used in any situation.  The allegro from when Ross is trying to destroy Phantom particles that have infected Grey is played later on when Ross, Sid, and the Deep Eyes are riding through an under assault NYC to escape the Phantoms.  Compared to the composers for the games, this is a bit of a letdown.
    Sakaguchisan's directing is incredible.  The sadness, fear, and horror pound through in every frame.  Seeing the souls being ripped from humans as they dissipate is disturbing, especially one scene where a human soul tries holding onto his body while the phantoms attack.  Sakaguchisan also demonstrates to anyone who should listen how to use camera movement to convey the story (Hello, Mr. Tim Burton, I have a collect call for you).
    Simply put, Final Fantasy is an incredible experience with intelligence and emotion rarely found in films today.  The debate between the first Mortal Kombat and Wing Commander for Best Video Game movie is over, perhaps forever.  Even without the tie-in, Final Fantasy is almost as good as it gets and raises the bar to astonishing heights.
 
 

Movies do not create new behaviors, they reinforce existing ones.  I did not come out of Basic Instinct thinking all lesbians want to have sex with men so they can kill them with ice picks.  Likewise, a hardcore homophobe isn't going to come out of, say, Jeffrey or In & Out thinking, "Why, they're normal people just like me, the only difference is their sexual expression!  It is wrong for me to think they are bad!"  But if the two of us swapped movies, I would come out nodding my head at the depictions of homosexuality Jeffrey and In & Out, the homophobe would nod his head at the depictions of homosexuality in Basic Instinct, and we'd think roughly the same thing:  just as I thought.
    Movies reinforce truths and lies.  One of the biggest lies they reinforce is the Lie Of Passivity.  It states that Life is fundamentally good, and if a situation occurs that puts your life out of whack, either it's actually a blessing in disguise or things can't stay bad forever and will shift back, putting you in your original setting.  "It can't rain all the time."  These drive things from simple entertainment like the Mickey Mouse cartoons and pre-1990's Superman comics to thinly veiled propaganda pieces like the sci-fi doggie sausage Target Earth.  Action heroes like Jackie Chan, who keeps pounding away at the situation until he wins, are the exception, not the rule.  Usually, the person is simply unstoppable, like Arnold Shwartzenegger, the action taken nothing more than the Hand Of Fate moving the world around and sweeping up the garbage.
    The Lie Of Passivity is the engine driving Mariah Carey in her big movie, Glitter.  Glitter is a strange project.  The title has changed twice that I know of, first known as All That Glitters and Glitter And Gold.  The shorter title enables me to applaud politely when, about halfway through the movie, the director of a music video shoot says, "There's too much glitter."  Carey's character pretty much moves from one situation to another while everyone around her takes action.
    It's surprising that Carey took such a marshmallow role in her second film (the first was a bit part in The Bachelor).  Carey is so self-absorbed, she's probably made of blotting paper.  She has presented her career as the power of believing in your talent and that God will help your dreams come true--like I said, the Lie Of Passivity.  But a number of things suggest she doesn't believe this and her success is the result of a covertly ruthless climb to the top, from her marriage to Tommy Matola, the record executive who discovered her, to her courting the teeny bopper demographic that Britney Spears et al. have staked out for the last two or three years.  She accomplishes this last goal by dressing like a roller disco queen in teen fashions despite the fact that she is 31.  Her music compositions, some of which have gotten her sued for copyright violations, have become less melodic and more doggeral with each album, with more emphasis on accompanying rappers and the influence of certain producers.  Her voice boasts an eight octave range, but despite her technical skill, she packs zero emotion into her expression.  And she has a nasty tendency to include some preposterous "baby talk" that fans find endearing and the rest of us outgrew when we were three.  She also refers to her fans as her "lambs," and after spending so much time hammering consumerists who act like sheep, I'm amazed no one makes the connection.  Her sexy image far more celebrated than the disposable pop she churns off the assembly line and hype being bought by everyone including herself, she is the Disney version of Madonna, Barbara Steisand Lite.
    Ever since the Beatles, music stars have wanted to have movie success, too.  There are occassional moments where the crossover potential is there, such as Steisand in For Pete's Sake and Madonna in Desperately Seeking Susan.  But for the most part, any music star making movies is a recipe for disaster, with such movies as Cool As Ice (starring Flavor Of The Month rapper Vanilla Ice), The Bride and Dune (starring Sting), Spice World (starring Flavors Of The Month the Spice Girls), and anything by Barbara Steisand after and including A Star Is Born, with special emphasis on The Prince Of Tides.  This isn't going away soon, with Justin Timberlake from N'Sync appearing in a movie this fall and world class snow job Britney Spears wrapping up principal photography on her starring vehicle.  It makes me want to fall on my knees and ask God, "Haven't we suffered enough?"
    Carey plays Billie Frank (if this is a reference to Billie Holliday, Carey isn't fit to buy her albums, let alone play a character named after her).  Our first glimpse of her is as a child, drinking milk at a bar stool while her mommie Lillian (Valarie Pettiford), seemingly lit on more than just alcohol, starts warbling tunes.  Before she gets through the first number, mom invites her daughter to sing along with her on stage during some banter with the maybe one dozen patrons.  This is the first thing in the movie that doesn't feel right.  Bar singers, especially in bar with only a modest number of people, aren't there to engage the audience, but provide background noise.  You don't think lounge singers get their jobs because of their bedside manner or talent, do you?  Mom's parenting is called into question by the fact that Billie is at the counter drinking milk instead of a back room like in Independence Day or the video for Turn The Page, but this isn't really commented on.  In fact, most of the little moral questions aren't even given a cursory examination.
    Billie is a mixed race child, from her black mom and a white dad who wants nothing to do with her.  One night, mom falls asleep on the couch while smoking and starting a fire.  Billie is placed in an orphanage like a modern The Cider House Rules where she meets two new friends, Louise (played as an adult by a rapper called Da Brat, don't ask me, never heard of her) and Roxanne (played as an adult by Tia Texada).
    After she meets them in the orphanage, we get some photos showing what close friends they are and how they want to become a singing group.  The scene then jumps to 1983.  Or it's supposed to be 1983.  The settings and fashions are ambiguous or definitely current day, such as when one character calls another "T", his initial, which I only recall beginning around the early 90's.  There's a Prince looking guy in one scene, but he's in the background.  There isn't one poodle perm, teased hair, tube top, Valley Girl, or guy with one of those goofy Flock Of Seagulls haircuts anywhere to be seen.  There are no other references to the time, either.  1982 was when rap first broke out of the underground thanks to breakdancing and movies like Breakin', Beat Street, and Body Rock.  This was also when the female trio assembled from good looks and passable talent, like the Cover Girls, Expose, and Madame X, started carving their notches in the music world, but no up and comers are seen.  When Billie's single is knocked out of the #1 spot, we never hear by who, and aside from the singer Billie backs up for, no other band or music is introduced.  The movie inhabits a strange world where the inconvenient outside world stays outside, like on Cheers or Wings.
    Anyway, the first time we see the grown up girls, we see Billie herself on a big screen on a night club stage, dancing in a bustierre and bikini bottoms.  The other girls are not shown in frame or on the monitor without her.  They don't sing, but while backstage, a record producer named Timothy Walker (Terrence Howard) approaches them about backing up his girlfriend/singer, Sylk (Padma Lakshmi).  Louise and Roxanne jump at it, but Billie immediately says they are still shopping and turns him down.  There is nothing indicating when she became Diana Ross to their Supremes, but they go along with this and beg her to reconsider as they walk the streets of a very sanitized New York.  I say "sanitized" because, despite how they are dressed and they are walking outside a nightclub, not one drunken asshole accosts them or hits them up for sex, and not one junkie slurs a threatening word (this nice version of the mean streets also bites the tragic ending in the ass, because, like Boyz In The Hood and the alternate ending for Clerks, there is no indication that this can happen so it doesn't feel tragic but cheap).  They take the gig, and Billie winds up ghosting Sylk's voice.  It's only when Timothy hears Billie sing that he reacts like he's heard a siren song.  (Sylk where a body suit with a furry collar while in the recording studio, and later in the movie, when Billie records, she wears a cocktail dress with perfect hair or other outfits and hairstyles.  Not only does no one see you in the studio so the dress code is casual, the headphones will crush and/or mess up your hair.  It's like seeing Kylie Minogue in full make-up and hair while in the recording studio in the video for The Locomotion.  That can't be right.  Also, you don't put back-up singers in the same booth as the lead, you do them seperate so you can control exactly how loud they sound.)  Billie is remarkably calm about this, and the only thing that riles her is when a press agent asks for photos of Sylk and the trio and Sylk says, "They're just back-up, they don't matter."  Billie leaves the room singing the song exactly how it sounds on Sylk's record.  This is overheard by Dice (British thesp Max Beesley), who wants to produce her.  He says she can't let Timothy get the best of her and she asks, "What makes you think that's the best of me?"  (Well....)  He starts a song, inviting people to do anything, from rap to sing when he gives them the mike.  When Billie gets it, she belts out high, hard notes that conveniently fit the generic music he's playing (good thing she knew the lyrics, huh?).  He makes a deal with Timothy to produce her, but he has to pay him $100,000.
    Dice immediately gets her t