Gangs of New York
REVIEWED 12/02, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Initially conceived in 1978 and shot almost two years ago, Martin Scorcese's brawling tale of 19th Century racial tensions finally pounds it's way onto the big screen. This is really a story about revenge and love, told within the rough and tumble framework of bygone Manhattan's tribal warfare between gangs of American-born racists and a semi-organized army of Irish immigrants, that's cast against the United States' bloody Civil War. In other words, everyone's a little miffed.

Having been released from Hellgate House of Reform, brutally orphaned and filled with brittle vengeance, Amsterdam Vallon (Leo DiCaprio) returns to the crime-infested 1862 squalor of his old stomping grounds in search of Bill the Butcher (William Cutting, brilliantly executed by Daniel Day-Lewis) - the one-eyed man who killed Vallon's proud father (Liam Neeson) and devout Christian leader of the Dead Rabbits gang in a slaughterfest street battle sixteen years earlier. To his dismay, Amsterdam discovers that not only has Bill become more powerful and wealthier than ever, and that some of his Irish brethren have joined Cutting's maliceously bigotted Confederation of American Natives, but that a raucous annual party is held to celebrate the obliteration of the Dead Rabbits. Fuelling the young man's violent passions further; Galvanizing his commitment to fiegn allegiance to The Butcher as Amsterdam moves up the ranks into the position of righthand man; Edging his way closer towards fulfilling his singleminded plans to murderously avenge his beloved Pa's death. However, his schemes go slightly awry when a tenuous romance blossoms between him and Jenny Everdeane (Cameron Diaz), a bright and industrious pickpocket with a tarnished heart of gold and suspiciously close ties to his unsuspecting prey.

Well, I'll say right off the bloodstained bat that this flick didn't need to run two and half hours. I can see how Scorcese wanted to invest a lot of time meticulously blanketing his picture in the suffocating air of flashpoint malcontent and feverish anti-immigration/anti-immancipation that was documented as being rampant during Lincoln's Presidency. That's a big worthwhile story all by itself. So would the missing chunk of time surrounding young Vallon's growing up in a Turn of the Century orphan asylum, or an overview of the decade and a half Cutting spent building his criminal empire, relevantly speaking. Sure, the ensuing 1863 Draft Riot (cited here) that razed areas of New York City was reportedly the worst localized uprising that country has seen to date, eventhough reliable information regarding the civillian casualty count or whether the military onslaught had anything to do with it is vague. However, the main story actually suffers from the script belabouring over these historically important yet peripheral threads. We understand the rivalry from the get go. Since the cast is made up of talented actors each armed with well-written dialogue to work with, we see the point of these characters' motivations. So, all of the boisterously Dickensian-like details outside of Cutting's and Vallon's world tend to interfere. They're clearly extraneous to the plot, from an audience's vantagepoint. It's almost as though another bigger movie kept trying to invade this incredibly believable film, because the director wasn't convinced that his Tale of Two Gangs was actually interesting enough. So, despite it likely grabbing a truckload of Oscars next year, I found 'Gangs of New York' to be wastefully unfocussed and overly slow paced, and not as monumentally satisfying a potentially tight period drama as it could have been if Scorcese had left the heavy history books at home.

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Goldmember
REVIEWED 06/03, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Well, what can I tell you about argueably the most anticipated movie of Summer 2002 that you haven't probably already read or heard or seen in the ads? Yes, Mike Myers returns for a second time as his bawdy spy spoof Austin Powers here. Yes, he breifly time travels to the Seventies to rescue his Roger Moore/Sid James-like father (Nigel Powers, played brilliantly by Micheal Caine) from a wooden-shoed, Roller Disco'ing freakshow named Goldmember. And, yes. Besides the host of returning characters and a couple of new faces, there are a number of big name cameos. Tom Cruise. Kevin Spacey. Britney Spears. Just to name three. You will get what you pay for and expect to see. Sort of.

What's left to tell you is that I found this mostly predictable goofy comedy to be somewhat vapid and all over the map. Unlike the last two, the plot this time is even more what Hitchcock used to call a maguffin. It's unimportant. The transparently thin story is really just a series of familiar campy skits, irreverant impersonations, corny innuendoes, and crass humour loosely seguayed together. There are scenes in Japan, solely because we want to poke fun at Sumo wrestlers and subtitles, for instance. It's all about set-ups and punchlines, moving on to the next big budgeted bunch of set-ups and punchlines. To the point where it quickly runs out of Bond-isms and physical abnormalities to mock, and ends up relentlessly parodying itself. On purpose. In that way, Myers succeeds incredibly well. Returning full circle to his Second City and SNL roots. That's the good side.

The bad side is that this second sequel tries way too hard to be self-deprecatingly funny. However, there's very little that's new or surprising here. The inherantly free-spirited and quirky personality of the first two films is gone. Austin Powers has lost his outrageously playful sense of humour here. His mojo is slightly prostrated this time out. And, in many cases, the promised orgy of absurdities doesn't go as far as it could have. Leaving us with just an idiotically funny yet annoyingly safe and narrow popcorn movie that's almost begrudgingly served up for those who merely want to turn off their brains and laugh at the same dozen or so vaguely retooled jokes. Sometimes, the exact same jokes. Even Myers himself seems a tad bored and flaccid on-screen. Disinterested in mining this lode to it's full, over the top potential anymore.

Don't get me wrong. I enjoyed this one, for the most part. I grew up loving the Carry On Gang (hence the apt Sid James reference) and Monty Python. I expect that the box office and video sales of this romp will far exceed everything we've seen so far this year. However, 'Goldmember' struck me as more resembling a constricted Hollywood ode to British burlesque cobbled together by a geriatric Mel Brooks, rather than another youthfully fresh satire written by the same clever student of Peter Sellers who brought us the originally groovy 'International Man of Mystery'.

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The Good Girl
REVIEWED 09/02, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Justine (Jennifer Aniston) is an emotionally stunted white trash wife who figures she's stuck on auto pilot in a relatively ordinary life that's already over at thirty. She's lost interest in her seven-year marriage. Her pot head house painter husband has become a source of gnawing irritation. And, her job at a small town discount retail store seems pointless. So, when a dark and brooding young fella is hired on as a cashier, an apprehensive wanderlust is sparked within her. Making things slightly steamier and a whole lot more complicated than she'd expected.

Now, I suppose this sounds like it might be good. Well, it isn't. 'The Good Girl' tries really hard at being a well-crafted screenplay, though. It's got quirky people in it. It's got semi-strange situations in it. However, it's also loaded up with inane dialogue, lazy camerwork, and lousy actors playing stereotypical losers who seem too busy internalizing monumental gobs of zombie-like angst to notice that there's an audience sitting in the dark, painfully lacking in enough psychic ability to interpret internal monologues.

Is Justine upset because she's got no kids? Is she down in the mouth because she hasn't done anything with her life? Is she just in need of a self-affirming life-changing experience? Who knows? Does she snap out of her navel-gazing stupor long enough to let us know? Well, no. If this flick had actually given us any reason to like her and empathize with her plight, we might have cared. If the plot had taken her through even a mild comedy of errors - that seemed to be hiding just around the corner, but was sadly never bothered with - we may have left the theatre afterwards feeling remotely entertained. As it stands, this is just another soul-sucking exercise in infantile mopiness with a little nudity thrown in to keep us awake.

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The Grey Zone
REVIEWED 06/03, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Brought to the big screen from a stage play that was inspired by the diary of a Jewish doctor - who apparently worked for and assisted Mengele's experiments in Auschwitz's notorious concentration camps during the Second World War in Europe - this emotionally draining movie graphically depicts the daily existance of the widely unknown Sonderkommando units. Emprisoned Jews who were themselves destined for the gas chambers, but who were afforded better beds to sleep in, for assisting in the herding of each newly arrived trainload of human cargo to the underground changing rooms. These volunteers were given better food than the other inmates held beyond the fence surrounding them, for reassuring and encouraging those disoriented uprooted families that the large whitewashed rooms nextdoor were merely communal showers. They were allowed regular access to copious amounts of alcohol, for carrying the seemingly endless quota of lifeless people from where they had been cowardly murdered en masse, and then desecrated for their hair and gold fillings, to be fed into the awating crematorium ovens or outdoor firepits for disposal by these same pitiful living corpses. Jews betraying Jews, for a few more unworthy weeks of dispicable grace under the watchful eye of their Gestapo keepers.

The main story based on this grim, historically factual nightmare cites the only documented uprising by the Sonderkommando units. The successful destruction of the Auschwitz-Birkenau ovens in the Autumn of 1944 by the twelfth collection of Hungarian-born Jews comprising Unit Three. Upon realizing that their days were perillously numbered, they managed to secure a tenuous route across the grey zone through which pouches of gun powder were smuggled from a small band of women working in a forced labour munitions factory inside the vast camp. Armed with these explosives, and utilizing the bribed help of a fast-talking con artist named Abramowics (Steve Buscemi) to get their hands on weapons supplied by the local Resistance to Unit One's segregation of escape-minded Polish Jews, they're suddenly sideswiped by an unlikely miracle: A fifteen year-old girl is found still breathing amongst the pile of souls mercilessly gassed to death where they stood.

This is such an astoundingly depressing movie (as it should be), gruesomely hammering home easily the cruelest consequence of Hitler's systematic genocidal schemes. Auschwitz alone caused over a million innocent deaths, approximately ninety percent of whom were reportedly Jews, before Russian troops entered it's largely vacated grounds on January 27, 1945 - a mere four months after this mortal revolt took place. Sadly, this is a far less captivating offering than it really should be. None of these snarling and squabbling characters are particularly sympathetic - on purpose. Even their kneejerk step towards a kind of redemption regarding saving the young survivor is somewhat cold and suspect, and quickly gets lost within a slightly muddy and stunted script. It's as though this potentially important drama is little more than an acting school exercise full of meaty challenging roles based on common knowledge (which this isn't, to the general public), that can't free itself from the constraints of a sparce live performance pandering to a panel of Holocaust experts. See it, as inspiration for further research on this subject. Stay away, if you're expecting to find any glimmer of hope rising up from this story's dark ashes.

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The Guru
REVIEWED 03/03, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

It's unlikely that Victorian England's notoriously roguish explorer, government spy, prolific author and veteran of the Crimean War Richard Francis Burton (1821-1890) ever dreamed of the full impact he'd make to the bedrooms of the West, when he and Foster Fitzgerald Arbuthnot (fellow linguist and co-founder of the Kama Shastra Society) first translated and published his fortieth book, 'The Kama Sutra of Vatsyayana', from the original Sanskrit intended for pre-Christian nobility and their concubines, in 1883. Burton was in his early sixties by then. Still, he's the Guru to either thank or curse for you having to learn about The Flower in Bloom, The Mixture of Sesamum Seed with Rice, and most of these sixty-four decidedly non-agricultural gymnastics. Lucky you.

Enter Ramu Gupta (Jimi Mistry), a contemporary East Indian, teaching the Macarena at the Chandi School of Dance and Modern Movement who leaves Bombay for the pursuit of fame and happiness in America. Ramu wants to be a movie star, like John Travolta in 'Grease'. So, after moving in to the so-called penthouse suite above the dilapidated RKO Keith's Theatre in Brooklyn with his part time waiter/part time cabbie buddy Vijay, he gleefully clinches his first audition. Cluelessly dancing his heart out, like Tom Cruise in 'Risky Business', for the boss at Ramrod Productions. Hilariously finding himself oiled up for his steamy beach scene opposite Senator Snatch (Heather Graham, as porn star Sharonna). When Sharonna's little pep talk about, uh, making out in the adult entertainment industry makes matters worse, Ramu tries to get his failed waitering job back by dropping in on a snobbishly organized birthday party - complete with a disgruntled and drunken Hindu Swami - catered by his old boss. Ending up having to stand in for the unconscious soothsayer, and faking the part by passing on Sharonna's Vatsyayana-inspired wisdom to awe-struck birthday girl Lexi (Marisa Tomei) and her friends. His act immediately catches on like wildfire, and Gupta suddenly finds himself being lauded by his newfound fans as The Guru of Sex.

Despite what you may be thinking, this is actually an extremely lighthearted and playful flick that cleverly satirized cultural stereotypes. Sure, the subject matter pretty well demands the coarse language and nudity sparingly sprinkled throughout, but it's really just a harmlessly fun orgy of errors culminating with a truly satisfying modern romance. I wouldn't recommend this one as a date film, unless you're both comfortable openly talking about sex, but I'd definitely suggest it as a naughty feel good romp with enough quirky irreverence worth checking out for kicks and giggles.

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The Good Thief
REVIEWED 05/03, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Something's nasty in Nice. Washed up ex-patriot junkie gambler Bob Montagnet (Nick Nolte) is cast adrift under the sultry shadows of this ancient resort in the South of France. So, when a close friend and cohort from his criminal past takes him on a tour of the fake Picassos and Cézannes hanging in nearby Monte Carlo's lush Casino Riviera, and he learns that the disgruntled Russian who designed the high tech security system where these real masterpieces are kept is ready to cut a deal, Bob sees his chance for redemption. Not as a latter day Dismas, the 'good thief', who acknowledged Christ while they were both crucified, though. While Montagnet does dabble with salvation, taking an abused seventeen year-old cocaine addict (Anne, played by Nutsa Kukhianidze) under his wing and determined to purge his own taste for heroin, his turning a new leaf relies more on Lady Luck. Reforming his old gang to plot this last big heist, while cultivating the opportunistic nature of an amateur drug dealer to keep longtime nemesis and police constable Roger (Tchéky Karyo) thinking the casino's vault of eighty million francs is about to be emptied. Seeing how the cards fall, that just might happen as well...

Well, this lazily stunted comeback flick after Nolte's recent infamously disheveled mug shot hit the news could have been better. Nick's alright in this role, but he's surrounded by a cast of lousy actors, and is forced to work with an incredibly boring script in front of a lame camera, that even the faintest threat of hope you might have going in to enjoy this one fades pretty quickly halfway through. Sure, it's got some quirky moments and a few slightly captivating lines of banter, but there's really nothing of real substance holding this fairly low key and soullessly contrived movie together. I actually looked forward to seeing 'The Good Thief' with the same enthusiasm as when I first saw Mickey Roarke's outstanding 'Barfly' performance on the big screen years ago. It's nothing like that one, unfortunately. The worst part is, if they had just taken another day to flesh out the main characters and had handled the ending slightly differently, these guys would have had a real winner on their hands. Too bad they didn't bother. What a stinker.

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Gigli
REVIEWED 06/03, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Saddled with the kidnapped autistic brother of a New York District Attorney, soft-hearted California tough guy Larry Gigli (Ben Affleck) ends up stuck playing host to Ricki (Jennifer Lopez), a wily Manhattan contract heavy sent in by their mutual boss to keep an eye on things. Louis (Lenny Venito), their rather sleazy yet vocabulary-rich NYC employer who's currently in the hot seat with his mafia-like supervisor, doesn't trust Larry with this particularly delicate situation. With good reason. Seems Gigli (pronounced 'jee-lee') can talk the talk with a certain Tarantino-esque bravado, but can't seem to get himself psyched up enough to walk the walk with any real conviction. He's just a frustrated wuss with some scary tattoos. Ricki sees right through him, and manages to wrap him around her little finger while coyly torturing him both mentally and sexually, in no time at all. Things quickly go from bad to worse for our sullen man-child when he's ordered to chop off and mail the thumb of his boyish captive to the D.A.'s office, forcing the sudden and dangerous visit from a very powerful Good Fella.

This is unbelievable. Frankly, it seems like ages since I've seen such wonderful acting by two incredibly talented actors. Namely, Chris and Al. Christopher Walken simply crackles with awesome energy, as the disheveled and slightly shady Detective Stanley Jacobellis, during his outstanding but short speaking cameo here. One prolonged parting glance from this mesmerizing star speaks absolute volumes onscreen, and is truly a marvel to watch. Same holds true for Al Pacino, in his fabulous walk-on part as Louis' fiery and beleaguered crime boss, Mr. Stockman, near the end of this celluloid turkey. He's like a one-man orchestra here, meticulously building on a single disarming note until you're blown away by each thoroughly enjoyable crescendo. More could have easily been done to follow either of these amazing characters. Well, more should have been done to that end, considering the rest of this flick is a complete disaster. Did I mention it's a turkey already? I was being polite. 'Gigli' would spoil toxic waste. Affleck and Lopez are little more than uninteresting finger puppets, bobbing around all googley-eyed for each other, as they crap out lines from what feels like a waaaay Off-Broadway script written by a potato. Sure, there are shades of 'Rain Man' (1988) throughout, but Justin Bartha does such an annoyingly teeth-grating job as this mentally handicapped young man that you actually hate having to sit through anymore of his scenes. To the point where you want to throw him out a window yourself. Meandering, vacuous, and self-enamored, except for seeing Walken and Pacino sear across the screen (what a waste, really), don't even bother renting this excruciatingly putrid amateur home movie. Embarassing.

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Gothika
REVIEWED 11/03, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Locked deep within the forest-shrouded, hundred year-old maximum security Woodward Penitentiary for Criminally Insane Women, Dr. Miranda Grey (Halle Berry) is being held for the mercilessly violent murder of her husband Douglas (Charles Dutton) - the Chief Administrator of that bleak institution's heavily guarded Psychiatric Hospital she worked for. She doesn't remember taking the axe from their comfortable home's backyard woodpile, or hacking him to death as he screamed in tortured agony in the now blood-splattered upstairs hallway outside their cozy bedroom. In fact, the last thing Miranda recalls from that ominously dark and stormy night is narrowly avoiding running over a bruised and terrified Rachel Parsons (Kathleen Mackey) standing in the middle of the wet muddy road, just beyond an old wooden bridge where Douglas and longtime friend Sheriff Ryan (John Carroll Lynch) liked to go fishing. Strange thing is, that horrified teenager's broken pale corpse was dragged from the nearby river four years ago, and Grey is faced with the bone-chilling possibility that not only are malevolent supernatural forces at work here, but that the more she tries to assure her former co-worker and friend Dr. Pete Graham (Robert Downey Jr.) of her sanity and innocence, the more he's convinced she's undeniably crazy and absolutely guilty. What's more bizarre, is that the longer she spends time experiencing the humiliating imprisoned life of the patients she once impersonally supervised the treatment of, Miranda begins to believe the satanic-related stories of cell block rape that Chloe Sava (Penélope Cruz) had attempted to tell her about during their dimly-lit and caged therapy session held the day Grey's life was later brutally destroyed by this heinous act that all evidence proves she committed. Escape is this doctor's only recourse, if she's going to unearth the terrible truth and clear her name, before she is mortally victimized yet again...

Wow. This incredibly creepy thriller packs an astounding menagerie of pulse-pounding horror into its mere ninety-five minute screen time. Berry is fantastic here, as a believably personable and intelligent professional with everything going for her who's thrown into a terrifying quagmire of ghoulish hauntings as an innocent asylum murder convict feverishly trying to save herself and her sanity. It might have helped Halle's preparation for this role that her mother was apparently a psychiatric nurse for thirty-five years, but the sheer mental and physical power of her thoroughly captivating performance is without a doubt jaw-droppingly wonderful throughout. No time is wasted in dragging the audience through this nightmarish emotional meat grinder, as French director Mathieu Kassovitz beautifully mixes pretty well every conceivable sub-genre of horror that Sebastian Gutierrez's relentlessly scary screenplay offers up as a contemporary homage to the mysterious and desolate 18th and early 19th Century Gothic literature that was extremely popular in Europe at the time. Full marks also go to Cruz - although, I don't really remember actually seeing her in anything where her characters haven't been somewhat wrong in the head - Downey Jr. and Lynch, for lifting their supporting roles to a level where you don't really know who's telling the truth or how this story full of surprises will pan out in the end. Of course, a lot of what makes this movie such an awesome nail-biter is the oppressively daunting atmosphere captured on location, where Quebec's currently abandoned and decaying St. Vincent-de-Paul Prison was pretty well made part of the cast by using its overwhelmingly massive and gloomy architecture to punctuate the seeming futility of Miranda's tenuous grip on hope. Unfortunately, I can't really say anything more about how amazing this completely satisfying ghost-tinged story is without ruining it, but 'Gothika' is definitely the scariest offering I've seen so far this year. Check it out during a thunderstorm with all of the lights off, but be sure to wear a poncho with the hood up if the person sitting beside you is holding a large Coke and a bucket of buttery popcorn. This flick's truly a must-see fright fest.

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Girl with a Pearl Earring
REVIEWED 12/03, © STEPHEN BOURNE
www.ofrb.gov.on.ca | www.rcq.gouv.qc.ca


REVIEW:

In 1666, young Griet (Scarlett Johansson) is sent from her simple Protestant Dutch home to support her injured former ceramic tile painter father and her mother, to toil her knuckles red in the bustling Papists' Corner area of town near the Oude Langendijck's narrow cobblestone-walled canal, as a lowly maid in the lavish Catholic house of Maria Thins (Judy Parfitt). This surprisingly lucid teenager is at first unaware of what awaits her, but soon realizes that wily Dame Thins is the mother-in-law of Delft's celebrated master painter Johannes Vermeer (Nathan Nepper) - a brooding, meticulous artisan whose habit of taking months to complete each modestly-sized commission for his only patron Van Ruijven (Tom Wilkinson) is steadily sinking this growing household of offspring towards irreparable debt and destitution. Johannes' fairly bourgeois and emotionally frail wife Catharina (Essie Davis) is dubious of Griet, and Cornelia (Alakina Mann) - their precocious eldest of what will eventually number twelve surviving children - sees opportunity to mete pernicious grief upon her whenever possible, but Vermeer recognizes something rare in Griet. Her wide-eyed curiosity about his craftsmanship and her seemingly intuitive understanding of colours, likely. However, as his fairly lascivious well-moneyed client playfully points out, Griet is indeed a very pretty girl; a lovely bit of ripened fruit not yet plucked. So, when Maria approaches Van Ruijven to commission another painting out of mounting financial desperation, and he demands that it be of a tavern scene with himself manhandling Griet while she serves him, the now overprotective artist balks at the notion and quickly strikes a bargain to paint her portrait separately - much to Catharina's tormented chagrin. Events bode even worse for Griet when Johannes insists that she wear his suffering wife's cherished jewellery, for this nineteen by sixteen inch oil on canvas that will come to be considered worldwide as one of Vermeer's finest masterpieces.

This absolutely beautifully shot ninety-five minute film - that has rightfully already garnered an award for cinematographer Eduardo Serra - gives a thoroughly captivating glimpse into the process of 17th Century art. The laborious mixing and grinding of sometimes-toxic ingredients into vibrant elixirs of linseed-saturated paint. The inspired technical precision of applying each thin undercoat to stretched canvas, building layer upon layer with different palettes of hues and tints, with each being sealed under a coating of varnish before proceeding to the next painstaking step in bringing this painting to life. The attention to detail is magnificent. Unfortunately, this picture's script based on Tracy Chevalier's 271-paged novel 'La Jeune Fille a la Perle' (2000) doesn't quite capture the underlying class struggle that Griet endures and wrestles with. Whether that's the fault of Director Peter Webber or screenwriter Olivia Hetreed is anyone's guess, but you're never really given an explanation as to why Johansson's infectious enthusiasm and self-assuredness are so heavily squelched by her character's demure attitudes towards something as innocuous as revealing her long auburn tresses in front of any man. Granted, in doing my usual stint of research for this review, I did discover that Hetreed took a lot of shortcuts in bypassing the story's background from page to screen. For example, it's never really clarified what's wrong with Griet's father - I found that out from the movie's website. I should probably also mention that the identity of the young lady in the actual painting by Vermeer (1632-1675) is still under scrutiny but is believed by some experts to be one of his other daughters. That's a moot point though, because this definitely is a thoroughly interesting - all be it not completely fleshed out - small period piece featuring choice cuts of some mighty fine acting throughout, for the most part. Definitely check this one out for the incredibly eyeball-popping visuals, but it's unlikely you'll find out too much about the enigmatic Vermeer himself and will probably need to bone up on that country and era's social history beforehand if you're looking for a completely satisfying time of it. It's a worthwhile show, but 'Girl with a Pearl Earring' could have been a whole lot better offering for this paying peasant if it had been crafted by more capable hands.

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Good bye, Lenin!
REVIEWED 04/04, © STEPHEN BOURNE
www.ofrb.gov.on.ca | www.rcq.gouv.qc.ca


REVIEW:

Housebound, former music teacher and outspoken supporter for East Germany's Communist Party Christiane Kerner (Katrin Saß) recuperates from her eight-month coma, amazed at how the world is changing for the better. She sees it on the nightly news broadcast, on the family television her son Alex (Daniel Brühl) has set up in her tiny bedroom. How the political climate has quickly altered so that the Fatherland can finally reunite. How West Germany has abandoned Capitalism in favour of Party dogma, launching an influx of immigrants looking for shelter and jobs. How this ultimately leads to the dismantling of the Berlin Wall, as the rest of Europe embracing Socialism over the weakening decadence of American influence. Christiane is indeed proud to be witnessing all of this during her lifetime. In the Spring of 1980. Completely unaware of the vacuum Alex meticulously created for his physically fragile mother after she awoke from her hospitalized unconsciousness - one that had actually lasted for over ten years. Of course, young Kerner has probably gone overboard in taking the doctor's orders of no sudden shocks, in his attempts to care for her. Summarily evicting his sister Ariane's (Maria Simon) Burger King co-worker boyfriend so that Christiane's bedroom could be returned to its former state. Paying school kids to wear decade-old outfits and sing long-forgotten songs of the Republic at his mother's bedside. And, enlisting his buddy Denis' (Florian Lukas) part-time videography talents to cobble together phony newscast tapes, to avoid his mother having to face the truth about her much-loved yet unknowingly Westernized homeland. Strangely enough, it works. Even when a bright red Coca-Cola banner appears in plain sight across from Christiane's window, Alex and Denis are able to creatively explain away that garish icon as a sign of reclamation that the popular soft drink was really invented by Germans and stolen by the US in the 1950's. His plans seem flawless. That is, until a sudden upswing in Christiane's health convinces her to don her coat and step outside...

Quite frankly, this 2003 subtitled release from co-writer/director Wolfgang Becker is an absolutely refreshing piece of entertainment. It's probably difficult now for some people to imagine what the world was like during the Cold War and shortly after Hitler's Berlin Wall was torn down. What Becker's and Bernd Lichtenberg's screenplay does is give moviegoers a truly human glimpse at how that time effected the lives of this small family, and how their lives - excluding Christiane, of course - have been drastically altered by Capitalism. Often, with bittersweet and hilarious results. If I had to come up with a similar Hollywood offering, 'Blast from the Past' (1999), in which an American family headed by Christopher Walken's eccentric scientist character emerges from their underground LA fallout shelter thirty-five years after a believed Russian sneak attack, might be a close yet far more comedic cousin. Some of the best scenes here come out of Alex meeting his boyhood idol, German Cosmonaut turned cab driver Sigmund Jähn (Stefan Walz), while trying to track down his estranged father, whose defection to the West caused terrible repercussions for them. What's at the heart of this incredibly well-crafted story isn't so much the enthusiastic retelling of socio-economic history and the steady string of big laughs resulting from that, though. What makes this foreign language gem such a captivating movie is in how we're presented with this troupe of thoroughly interesting characters. From Old Guard neighbours Mrs. Schafer (Franziska Troegner) and Rainer (Alexander Beyer) who have embraced these changes yet are deeply touched by fond memories of Communism while spending time with Kerner's mother, to Alex and his generation's spin on the past while easily adapting to the freedoms of a new Germany on the fortieth anniversary of the old Eastern Block. That fascinating heartfelt juxtaposition is what keeps a paying audience involved, and gives us a wonderfully worthwhile two hour screening from beginning to closing credits. Definitely check out 'Good bye, Lenin!' at your local Art Film house or from your favourite import rental shop if you get the chance. Incredibly good stuff.

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Godsend
REVIEWED 05/04, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Everything has been a little like a wonderful second chance, thanks to prestigious pediatrician Dr. Richard Wells (Robert De Niro). From young Adam Duncan's (Cameron Bright) heart-stopping birth, right through to his recent birthday, his doting parents Jessie (Rebecca Romijn-Stamos) and Paul (Greg Kinnear) have continued to be amazed at how much their son is, well, like their son. He's got his eyes, his same hair colour, and the same contagious laugh. Adam is virtually identical in every way imaginable to their first son, Adam - who was horribly killed in a Manhattan traffic accident the day after his eighth birthday party, approximately nine years ago. Unbeknown to his top notch fertility staff at the isolated Godsend Institute in Upstate New York, Wells created a clone of the Duncan's lost boy using a highly advanced yet extremely illegal procedure that he'd vaguely described to this initially shocked and mourning couple on the eve of Adam's funeral. Paul was adamantly against it, even after doing some checking and scouring that facility's website, and has always been a little suspicious of this doctor since that unsettling first meeting, but the only thing that grief-stricken Jessie wanted was to replace the last numbing memories of her only baby dying in her arms on that city street, with the joy of having her complete family together again. This second chance. One that they've been reliving in their newly renovated lakeside Victorian home near the institute, in their happy new lives with their new son. That is, until the days shortly after Adam turned eight, when he begins to act slightly differently. Richard nonchalantly explains it away as this being uncharted territory, after them having something similar to a map to go by since his rebirth. However, when Adam begins experiencing chilling night terrors and starts falling into a trance-like state where he'll only answer to the name Zack, Paul threatens to break their agreement of complete secrecy and segregation from the unsuspecting world, to have his troubled son checked by an outside specialist. His wife soon quashes that plan, but he's determined to investigate this matter further on his own - bringing Paul in contact with a housekeeper whose story of unbridled evil and murder seems to be repeating itself with eerie familiarity...

While sitting through this decidedly slow-paced flick, I couldn't help but feel as though 'Godsend' could have been released sometime in the late 1970's. It pretty well has the same sense of repressed impending doom spiked with fairly low-budget shockers seen in 'The Boys from Brazil' (1978) throughout. Not to say that's particularly bad - even though that example is dreadfully cheesy now, if not in its day - but this similar contemporary offering does tend to suffer from Mark Bomback's script attempting to conjure up fear over science gone wrong, without really offering anything new. Sure, the premise of Dr. Well's true motivations being kept a secret until very near the end is a welcome twist, but getting to that part becomes an annoyingly grueling exercise in patience for the most part, as De Niro's and Kinnear's characters continuously belly buck mano a mano over who knows what's best. The main problem is that you're never really sure just what the heck is going wrong with this kid - the clone - while he begins to turn into this glassy-eyed devil child haunted by weird visions and followed around by spooky music. Is he possessed? Has his rebirth unleashed something from beyond the grave? Is he buzzed on heaps of sugary snacks gulped down at recess? There's no foreshadowing used, nor any obvious clues as to why we should buckle in for a good scare, beyond a few bizarre scenes poorly reminiscent of 'A Nightmare on Elm Street' (1984) and you knowing there's a rusty axe in a creepy old shack in the woods that keeps being returned to time after time. It's almost as though director Nick Hamm rightly decided his first US feature was more a psychological mystery than an all out slasher gore fest, but wasn't quite sure just how to present it in a manner where a paying audience could use a few sleuthing muscles to play along in the dark. Opting instead to keep everyone bewildered to the point of frustration, while he tosses out cheap frights from the shadows every now and then, but primarily forces you to sit there like a captive outsider watching what happens in this cinematic fishbowl. Not so good. Unfortunately, I can't really recommend this one - even for De Niro fans. Too bad.

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Go Further
REVIEWED 05/04, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Frankly, I really wasn't too sure what to make of this one. With the working title of 'What Every Young Person Should Know', this fairly anti-corporate 2003 documentary directed by Ron Mann seemed so utterly vacuous and surprisingly contrived at times. What you sit through is actor Woody Harrelson and an offbeat group of Californian environmental activist wannabes taking a bio fuelled, colourfully painted bus through several West Coast campsites and campuses to espouse the virtues of Grassroots change. And, although much of the slickly worded catch phrases such as 'Say no to corn dogs' and 'Milk is full of blood and pus' do stick with you long after the cheerily naive closing credits end, about the only truly interesting part of this heavily edited ninety-minute soup of suspiciously pro-marijuana clouded 'light footprint on the earth' solutions is when a stop is made at the wooded Oregon farm of psychedelic era 'merry prankster' and LSD-inspired writer Ken Kesey (1935-2001). Sure, the very real need to seriously consider sustainable alternatives to abusing finite natural resources and chemical technology at the detriment of ever-dwindling wildlife - and humanity - is justifiably important. However, so much of this film's scattered runtime is rife with flippant stupidity and boring asides that the message quickly gets lost in the mire of Mann attempting to keep things dumbed down and entertaining. As though the intended audience is supposedly made up of teenaged burnouts and societal pariahs, instead of normal moviegoers able to make a difference if shown what steps to take. When the result of a San Francisco State University foreign student's month-long stay with Harrelson's crew is that she's delighted her skin has cleared up, it's rather obvious that the point of their well-meaning junket has completely skipped past her. Check it out as a sugary introduction to the far more compelling 'The Corporation' (2003) if you're even remotely interested in what's happening to our planet, but I'd be more inclined to suggest you save your brain cells and skip this self-aggrandizing entrée of patronizing slacker sound bites all together. Yawn.

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Garfield
REVIEWED 06/04, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Surprisingly, Bill Murray does a pretty good job in taking over from long-time voice actor Lorenzo Music (1937-2001) in this decidedly soft-humoured CGI/live-action toddler-friendly movie featuring Breckin Meyer as Garfield's feline whipped owner Jon Arbuckle, and Jennifer Love Hewitt as Jon's adorable love interest Veterinarian Dr. Elizabeth 'Liz' Wilson. Indiana cartoonist Jim Davis' cynical and lazy, strong coffee and lasagna-loving cat - named after his Grandfather's middle name - first appeared in forty-one American newspapers in 1978; eventually spawning fourteen Lorenzo Music voiced television specials from 1982 to 1991 and well over five hundred merchandising and advertising contracts to date, to recently becoming acknowledged by the Guinness Book of World Records as the most widely syndicated daily comic strip ever read around the world. Sure, many of the jokes and pratfalls throughout this fairly contrived comedic morality tale written by Joel Cohen and Alec Sokolow lack a certain edge that many adult fans might be expecting here, but director Peter Hewitt's (no relation to Jennifer Love Hewitt) efforts do turn out to be a reasonably enjoyable natural extension of Davis' empire over-all. This is a pre-teen kids flick, first and foremost. That's where 'Garfield: The Movie' succeeds as being pretty well the only summer offering playing in theatres so far this year that parents familiar with the slightly similar tone of 'Benji' (1974) can confidently take very young and easily frightened moviegoers to enjoy on the big screen.

However, there's a weirdness factor as well that regularly got in the way of my sitting through this ninety minute screening completely free of headaches. While our brightly orange, bug-eyed narcissistic anti-hero turned adventuresome savior of Arbuckle's new pup Odie is obviously a computerized cartoon creature, all of the other animals are either ultra realistic-looking or actually real, with most having their digitally enhanced mouths speaking dialogue - much like in 'Doctor Dolittle' (1998) or 'Stuart Little' (1999). So, the converging realities of live human actors, live animals, live-looking animation, and Toon-like Garfield end up spinning your brain around, since these scenes tend to lack the finesse of 'Who Framed Roger Rabbit' (1988) and slam into a bizarre gridlock while tenuously attempting to suspend your disbelief long enough to become thoughtfully engaged by what's happening. 'Garfield: The Movie's obvious intended audience of little children will likely thoroughly enjoy this one, but don't look for more than a handful of wry laughs geared towards grown up fans of Davis' funny pages original.

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Garden State
REVIEWED 08/04, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

The old adage that you can't run away from yourself seems to ring true here, in writer/actor Zach Braff's (who appeared in 'Manhattan Murder Mystery' (1993) and 'Blue Moon' (2000)) directorial debut as messed up twenty-six year-old LA television star Andrew Largeman, returning to his roots in Newark, New Jersey for the burial of his aged paraplegic mother, as well as the quietly unintentional re-evaluation of his troubled past. See, Andrew has been medicated for most of his young life; supplied a steady dose of prescriptions by his stoic psychiatrist father Gideon - played by Genie award-winner Ian Holm ('The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King' (2003), 'The Sweet Hereafter' (1997)) - after a tragic accident during childhood that he seems to have been punished for ever since. Now, back home after a nine year absence, Largeman soon meets Sam (Natalie 'Portman' Hershlag, 'Cold Mountain' (2003), 'Star Wars: Episode II' (2002)), an equally quirky misfit with whom he quickly develops a mutually fond friendship while he takes a few days off from the lithium and the Zoloft and the Prozac that pack his stark California apartment's medicine cabinet.

The theme of 'Garden State' certainly feels familiar when compared to a long litany of similar movies, where the apparent antithesis of the prodigal son sets something right by choice or by chance. Guns a-blazin' are normally part of the equation these days, so it's truly refreshing to see this flick harkens back to a kinder sensibility of a generation ago, when memorable dramatic pictures such as 'Coming Home' (1978) or even 'Ordinary People' (1980) were examining the far less violent, more introspective process of emotional healing seen here. When Andrew says, "You know that point in your life when you realize the house you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? That idea of home is gone. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place," to Sam during one of their several openly candid moments together, you know good things are happening before your eyes. Sure, the fact that most every cast member portrays an oddball character that in some way is damaged or numb or lost and is given the chance to verbally coddle their eccentricities for a paying audience does feel slightly contrived at times, but there's a sense that a completely interesting screenplay could have easily been written about any one of them with the same satisfying results. Thankfully, when you're told that Portman's character has suffered epileptic seizures since her youth, that piece of disquieting news isn't brazenly used as foreshadowing of subsequent events that might have completely pulled your attention away from this flick's main focus. As it stands, Braff's onscreen efforts shine throughout, in a rather low key, reportedly somewhat autobiographical starring performance where living in denial slowly matures into self-realization and acceptance. And, love. Wonderful. The story does still meander a bit in search of a cohesively structured plotline, stopping to find sometimes weirdly amusing asides for its suspiciously intended slacker audience, but 'Garden State' is a captivatingly mature study and heartwarming hundred and nine-minute cinematic journey over-all (winning the Grand Jury prize nomination at Sundance, before being picked up by Miramax and Fox Searchlight this year), that's well worth checking out as a thoroughly enjoyable, small tale big screen offering. Good stuff.

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The Grudge
REVIEWED 10/04, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

American exchange student at a Tokyo University and fledgling volunteer caregiver with a local social welfare agency, Karen (Sarah Michelle Gellar; 'I Know What You Did Last Summer' (1997), 'Scooby Doo 2: Monsters Unleashed' (2004)) is soon assigned her first shut-in case after the young woman she's brought in to replace suddenly disappears while tending to the housebound needs of aged and near-comatose Emma Williams (Grace Zabriskie; 'Fried Green Tomatoes' (1991), 'Gone in Sixty Seconds' (2000)). Unbeknown to Karen, Emma wasn't always alone in that secluded two-story, grey suburban Japanese house. In a way, she still isn't completely left in solitude, even after police found the broken corpses of her executive son and daughter in law horribly mutilated in the attic. Three years after a girlish romantic infatuation sparked a viciously gruesome double murder and suicide in that same house. Leaving behind something dark and evil stirring within its sparse and narrow walls. Something insatiably hungry for flesh and blood and fear. The house is cursed, haunted by a strange eight year-old boy named Toshio Saeki (Yuya Ozeki; 'Ju-on: The Curse' (2000), 'Ju-on: The Grudge' (2003)) and a terrible ethereal creature that mercilessly attacks and relentlessly hunts down any living soul that so much as enters that dimly-lit and tree-shrouded front door.

Hopefully, I've just saved you the price of admission with that synopsis, because this dreadfully awful retooling of writer/director Takashi Shimizu's original 2003 Japanese horror flick is so completely ridiculous that the only reason to go see it in the movie theatre would be if your air conditioning at home isn't working and you needed the sleep. It's almost as though screenwriter Stephen Susco was so enamoured with the hugely satisfying and vaguely similar chiller 'The Ring' (2003) that he wanted to remake it here as a kind of modern version of 'The Amityville Horror' (1979), fighting every inch of the way with the story he should have been focusing on. Allowing major plot points to be shuffled out of order as weirdly disappointing flashbacks, until you're pretty well forced to wish everybody would just hurry up and die already, while grinding your teeth in frustrated aggravation for the closing credits to deliver you from this incredibly lazy, hour and a half disaster rife with unanswered questions. Why was that girl's jaw ripped off? Why is the killer creature presented as an intimidating hairy phantom only some of the time, yet as a gaunt and pale figure croaking behind what looks like an unkempt Haida mask for the majority of its existence? Why is the dismal cliché of having each new victim in a horror film go up the creepy stairs or check out ghoulish noises in the dark rooms - without them being given any good reason to do so - still being used these days? It's tiring and silly. Sure, 'The Grudge' does touch on a couple of interesting ideas - primarily to do with the original murder/suicide - that could have easily become a far more intriguing main story for a paying audience to tap into, but you're really only shown agonizingly brief glimpses of them during the last third here and far too late to make you care one way or the other. The worst part is that Takashi Shimizu helmed this piece of cinematic junk as is, instead of getting together with Susco to flesh out Kayako Saeki's (Takako Fuji) and Professor Peter Kirk's (as played by Bill Pullman; 'Independence Day' (1996), 'Igby Goes Down' (2002)) story and forgetting about making this a vapid showcase for Gellar's intrepid talent as a doe-eyed human finger puppet on the big screen. Be contented that most of the best scenes are used for the television ads you've likely already seen several times, and steer clear of this numbingly disappointing, poorly wasted attempt at sucking in moviegoers' time and studio money.

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Guess Who
REVIEWED 03/05, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

New Jersey corporate investment trader Simon Green (Ashton Kutcher; 'My Boss's Daughter' (2003), 'The Butterfly Effect' (2004)) and successful artist Theresa Jones (Zoe Saldana; 'Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl' (2003), 'The Terminal' (2004)) are in love. When he looks into her bright, brown eyes, he can clearly see that Theresa wants to spend the rest of her life with him. When she thinks of his boyish smile throughout her busy day, she knows that Simon would move heaven and earth to be there for her through thick and thin. What they have is rock solid. It sounds corny, but they truly do complete each other. So, neither of them have any hesitation about taking advantage of their long over due invitation to spend time at the Jones family household during Theresa's parents' vow renewing, twenty-fifth wedding anniversary celebrations to announce their own engagement plans. Surrounded by friends and close relatives, it's the perfect opportunity. These young love birds can't wait. However, there's one small catch. Percy Jones (Bernie Mac; 'Bad Santa' (2003), 'Mr. 3000' (2004)): Tall, Strong, Man of the house. A legend in his own mind. The African-American King of his Cranford, New Jersey castle. Wiley-eyed veteran bank loans officer able to spot a loser within minutes, Percy A. Jones. Green's extremely intimidating and paternally aggressive, soon to be father-in-law. Gulp. Percy takes an instant disliking to Simon, convinced that his daughter's White boyfriend is hiding something. It's not for lack of having money, since Percy's already surreptitiously checked Simon's perfect credit and personal finances in meticulous detail. It's not the fact that Simon just quit his high paying job over a dispute with his overzealous boss, because even Theresa doesn't know about that. It's not that Simon lied to him about working the Nascar pit for his racing idol, although that doesn't bode too well with Mr. Jones. Green's not his favourite colour because of that nervous mistake. Percy hasn't yet figured out what's bothering him about this surprisingly pale skinned stranger who's touching and kissing and looking at and being intimate with his cherished eldest little girl, but he'll get to it. He's got the home court advantage, and he's not taking his eye off of Green - day or night - until he proves once and for all that this guy's no good for Theresa.

Loosely inspired by the Oscar-winning Spencer Tracy/Sidney Poitier classic 'Guess Who's Coming to Dinner' (1967), director Kevin Rodney Sullivan's ('How Stella Got Her Groove Back' (1998), 'Barbershop 2: Back in Business' (2004)) comparably less than ground breaking feature is an impressive surprise over-all. Admittedly, I found it tough putting aside my own bias about seeing one of my all time favourite movies being whittled into what results on the surface as little more than a tug of war between a couple of man childs in go-karts snarling at each other for cheap laughs. I also dislike taking a serious stance when reviewing funny movies, but this one seems to beg for it due to its famous peerage. Where dinner guest Poitier's character was admirably sophisticated and his background wonderfully chiseled for his generation thirty-eight years ago, Kutcher's feels decidedly common and unimpressively ordinary. However, that's the point. He has different baggage. This is a different movie for a different era of different struggles regarding common decency and respect. It toys with that, from the flip side of the same coin. 'Guess Who' is also an enjoyable comedy in its own right, primarily because of its impressive cast of players that also includes Judith Scott ('High Hopes' (1988), 'The Santa Clause' (1994)) as Percy's wife Marilyn. Yes, the race card is ridiculously overplayed throughout, to the point where Mac's role skirts dangerously close to becoming completely unlikable. Not on the same clearly racist level as Tracy's was, but not much more enlightened either. David Ronn's, Jay Scherick's and Peter Tolan's sporadically clever screenplay actually does trick a paying audience into believing that colour is a pivotal force here - with the Black father telling a co-worker that his daughter's White boyfriend is a Black man, the White guy telling Black jokes to his Black girlfriend's family, having the same White guy later mock her Black father by speaking in a drawled deep voice, and then showing the father messing with his daughter's White boyfriend's mind by using historically volatile references to class and slavery - when it's really about overprotective fatherhood and how hilariously destructive it can become. Frankly, this flick has more in common with 'Father of the Bride' (1991) - itself a remake of a 1950's Tracy classic. Definitely check it out as a worthwhile, slightly silly yet delightfully light hearted romp that's actually a lot smarter than it initially lets on.

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Gunner Palace
REVIEWED 07/05, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Three days before the American-led Coalition of the Willing's March 20, 2003 invasion of Iraq, US President George W. Bush gave that country's accused leader Saddam Hussein and his adult sons Uday and Qusay an ultimatum: Vacate Hussein's twenty-four-year regime in forty-eight hours or suffer military reprisal over their suspected secret build up of weapons of mass destruction following the Gulf War and nearby Afghanistan's Al-Qaeda terrorist attacks of 9/11. Iraqi Olympic Committee Head and Fallujah Militia Commander Uday, also an extravagant lady killer (literally) and Saddam's notoriously psychotic eldest - drolly listed as third, the Ace of Hearts, in the US military's infamous Most-Wanted Iraqis deck of fifty-five playing cards - reportedly responded by smugly telling Bush and his family to leave the United States. Four months later, both brothers were surrounded and killed in the Iraqi city of Mosul during an attempted capture turned four-hour armed stand off against the 101st Airborne and Special Forces, two hundred and fifty miles northwest of Uday's bombed out Al Azimiya Palace overlooking the Tigris River in Baghdad's northern district of Adhamiya. The American Army's four hundred-soldier, 2/3 Field Artillery Unit, known as the Gunner Battalion based in Germany, quickly became the new tenants of the fortified compound grounds surrounding what remains of Uday's once opulent Al Azimiya Palace - now home to the Gunners' Tactical Operations Center and nicknamed "Gunner Palace" - dispatching its contingent of mainly nineteen year-olds enlisted straight out of high school through some of the capital's most dangerous war torn zones. The relentless 100+ F desert heat, continual mortar attacks and the Improvised Explosive Devices (IED's) left in the path of their Hummer convoys, as well as Anti-American factions like the remaining Fallujah cells, the followers of religious zealots and the corrupt networks of extremists turn every situation into a potential tinderbox months after Bush proclaimed the end to the War in Iraq.

This is their world, this so-called "minor conflict", half a world away from what these uniformed men and women of Small Town USA grew up in. LTC William Rabena struggles to maintain calm diplomacy during heated arguments stalling an Iraqi Council meeting chilled by death threats. SGT Robert Beatty shakes his head in doomed skepticism over the untested reliability of the Iraqi corps he's training to take over security in Baghdad's shelled out streets. SPC James Nuat holds a unusually small, abandoned Iraqi baby in his arms, citing his own newborn back home that he's only seen in photographs. Despair looms everywhere. However, there's also a lighter side. Rabena installed a three-hole putting range on site. "This is what I'd hoped for," jokes SGT James West, taking a break from the drudgery to soak in the lavish outdoor pool behind Gunner Palace. "To go to strange places, be the first from my hometown with a confirmed kill, and drink Snapple." This conflict is a dry one, no beer is allowed while on duty. SGT Kendrick Smith smoothly outlines the finer points of meeting women to a shy interpreter in the compound parking lot. The men laugh, like tourist sharing broken English phrases to a friendly alien culture. SPC Billie Grimes, a combat medic, grins about the double takes she's gotten from Iraqis on the street who've never seen a woman in fatigues. Their humour is normally tinged with grim reality, though, as in the case of one soldier pointing to the punctured sheet armour of an Army vehicle. "The metal is made in Iraq, meaning that it'll probably ensure the flying shrapnel will stay in your body instead of going right through you." Howls of laughter make the terror livable.

The first thing that squarely hits you about this phenomenal, extremely candid 2004 documentary from TIME Magazine assignment photojournalist turned cinematographer Michael Tucker (he co-directed and edited it with his producer wife Petra Epperlein) is a strong feeling of deja-vu. Particularly if you're like me and remember seeing nightly television news footage of beleaguered field soldiers openly questioning the futility of their fight during the last days of the Vietnam War. The gear and geography are different, but the bitter sentiments of disillusionment are eerily mirrored. 'Gunner Palace' is the product of Tucker insinuating himself inside the US Army's 2/3 Field Artillery Unit stationed at Uday Saddam Hussein al-Tikriti's (1964-2003) bombed out and crumbling Al Azimiya Palace compound in Baghdad's northern district of Adhamiya during the autumn months of 2003 and the first quarter of 2004. In the wake of US President George W. Bush announcing the end of the War in Iraq and during the tumultuous residue of the downfall of Uday's despot father, Iraqi President Saddam Hussein 'Abd al-Majid al-Tikrit, Tucker rode with patrols, followed raids and joined camp routine. This is the Gunners' 24/7 drama through his lens. Rosy speeches from Bush and US Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, wry Army radio clips and blunt Rap stylings by some of the unit's men wonderfully punctuate the enormous chasm between Washington's official reports and this company's day to day reality.

There are moments throughout this superior eighty-five minute screening, particularly when the camera turns to Tucker's irreverent bunkmate SPC Stuart Wilf's constant stream of nutty quips and erratic moonlight guitar solos, when a paying audience can't help but feel as though the projectionist has slipped in goofy out takes from 'Kelly's Heroes' (1970), 'M*A*S*H' (1970) or 'Catch-22' (1970), until you're reminded that - just as poet SPC Richmond Shaw deftly points out with rifle in hand surrounded by palace rubble and unseen threats beyond the fortified walls - this is just a show for the audience, but they live in this movie. I actually hated the trailer for this film so much that I avoided checking it out, because it seemed to tritely glorify a kind of rock 'n' roll commando Summer Camp mentality without seriously emphasizing the horrors of what every combat veteran and war civilian faces. I'm glad the ad was just a typically poor marketing spin more inspired by 'Private Benjamin' (1980) than 'Apocalypse Now' (1979) - or, by the reality here. 'Gunner Palace' doesn't glorify anything, it documents the real grunts sent in to maintain stability in a wasteland of chaos, reaching an uncanny personalized depth through Tucker's sporadic narrative that's rarely seen on the big screen. An underlying sense of traumatized skepticism regarding the American people's understanding and empathy for what the Gunners endure permeates pretty well every scene here, but they do their job with pride anyways. They soldier on. However, some of the many moments that truly make this picture an outstanding, insightful offering is when Tucker catches glimpses of the Iraqis hired on a interpreters or bounty hunters, or simply caught in the fray. The local reporter on his knees and held at gunpoint with his brother, suspected of harbouring a cache of weapons, slowly letting his outrage succumb to futile pleas at the camera. "They call us traitors, but we're not," Shamil, a former ambulance driver turned translator and bomb disposal expert explains the mindset of his militant countrymen. "They're the traitors, because they want the war to continue." The awful truth is sometimes hard to fathom, but there it is. Awesome and terrible. Another welcome discovery is that the movie's uncluttered website (www.gunnerpalace.com) contains Tucker's photo-filled blog and several links to other relevant online diaries for you to read through.

Absolutely do yourself a huge favour and check out this incredibly worthwhile, extremely candid and fairly cuss-bloated, PG-13 rated documentary - particularly if you enjoyed the unembellished bits of 'Control Room' (2003) and 'Fahrenheit 9/11' (2004).

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The Great Raid
REVIEWED 08/05, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

It had no strategic significance. Almost four years after Japan's surprise attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941 and Hitler's declaration of war against the US four days later had brought America into Europe's two year-old battlegrounds of World War II, as well as into the fourteen-year Sino-Japanese War that had threatened China and the Pacific Rim, General Douglas MacArthur (1880-1964) could have easily had his US Army Rangers turn a blind eye to the remaining witnesses of Japan's atrocities at Cabanatuan Prison Camp #1 while liberating The Philippines. On January 30, 1945, Nazi Germany's surrender to the Allied Forces was less than four months away, and the B-29 bomber Enola Gay was only another three months from dropping its atomic payload on Hiroshima that would force Japan's inevitable defeat. However, the beginning of that year still saw American lives in danger of being summarily executed, held captive for three gruelling years after MacArthur's failed stand-off at Butaan had sealed the fate of seventy thousand men brutally imprisoned, either forced into hard labour on the main island of Luzon or secreted into Hell Ships sent through the United States' gauntlet of submarines to work camps in Japan, with the POW's left behind slowly decimated through starvation, untreated diseases and torture by the occupying Japanese military. Three thousand captive soldiers had died at Cabanatuan before the end of 1942. Two years later, only five hundred and twelve remained. Locked in a rancid sea of shallow graves, that isolated converted Filipino Army depot North of Manila was little more than a holding pen for prisoners marked for death mercilessly decreed by Tokyo and tenuously kept alive with smuggled medicine and hope from Manila-based Nurse Margaret Utinsky's (Connie Nielsen) underground resistance. This impossibly daring rescue planned mere weeks after MacArthur returned to the Philippines was entrusted to one hundred and twenty volunteers mostly from the Rangers' fledgling 6th Infantry Battalion led by Lieutenant Colonel Henry Mucci (1911-1997) (Benjamin Bratt), predominantly made up of Company C commanded by twenty-five year-old Captain Bob Prince (James Franco), with an additional three dozen men from the 6th's Lieutenant John Murphy's Company F, Alamo Scouts and the invaluable bravery of USAFFE guerrilla Captain Juan Pajota's (d.1976) (Cesar Montano; 'Jose Rizal' (1998), 'Panaghoy sa suba' (2004)) unit of armed fighters. Time and the terrain were against them, but Mucci and his combined troops pressed on through the jungles on foot - with Prince and Murphy and their men crawling the last eighty yards in broad daylight without cover - desperate to free their broken brothers before a Japanese convoy of killers charged by ruthless Kempeitai Major Nagai (cinematographer turned actor Motoki Kobayashi) could fulfil their orders to eradicate Cabanatuan's helpless prisoners. This raid meant nothing to the war effort, but its importance was never doubted.

Wow. Reportedly adapted from war historian William B. Breuer's 1994 book The Great Raid on Cabanatuan: Rescuing the Doomed Ghosts of Butaan and Corregidor, as well as material from writer Hampton Sides' 2001 biography Ghost Soldiers: The Forgotten Epic Story of World War II's Most Dramatic Mission, it's almost tough to believe that this impressively superior war movie from director John Dahl ('Unforgettable' (1996), 'Joy Ride' (2001)) is actually based on true events. Apart from a few minor details either elaborated upon or ignored by Carlo Bernard's and Doug Miro's immediately captivating screenplay, this really happened. On January 30, 1945, during an ambitious rescue mission near the end of WWII, the combined efforts of one hundred and twenty men from the proud military lineage of former US frontiersman Robert Rogers' (1732-1795) US Army Rangers' newly created 6th Infantry Battalion, the Alamo Scouts and USAFFE Filipino guerrillas walked through heavy jungles and behind occupying Japan's disintegrating front lines to rescue five hundred and twelve Allied prisoners of war from the infamous Cabanatuan Prison Camp in Luzon, The Philippines. Courage doesn't begin to describe the bravery of the real soldiers who faced those unimaginable odds, quite frankly. More importantly, 'The Great Raid' masterfully portrays the five days leading up to that incredible thirty-minute attack, telling it from the viewpoints of the brutalized POW's led by malaria weakened Major Daniel Gibson (Joseph Fiennes; 'Shakespeare in Love' (1998), 'The Merchant of Venice' (2004)) as well as that of Ranger Lieutenant Colonel Henry Mucci (Benjamin Bratt; 'Demolition Man' (1993), 'Catwoman' (2004)) and the 6th's Company C commander Captain Bob Prince (James Franco; 'City by the Sea' (2002), 'Spider-Man 2' (2004)). This picture is stark, blunt, and thoroughly riveting. Why Miramax apparently chose to delay its release for two years is anyone's guess.

Every major and supporting player is simply awesome in their strong ensemble performances, striking the right balance without overshadowing each other. Sure, the peripheral story involving Manila-based Nurse and underground resistance leader Margaret Utinsky's (Connie Nielsen; 'The Devil's Advocate' (1997), 'The Hunted' (2003)) heart felt fight to risk discovery and execution by being near Gibson in the hopes of seeing him again does feel somewhat contrived and distracting - aside from the fact that the real, very married Utinsky was forty-two at the time and, like many enlisted officers, Gibson would have been ten or twenty years younger - but Nielsen's role does lend a touch of civilian humanity to the mix, in this genre that has primarily been about the exclusive glorification of so-called good professional killers versus enemy professional killers seen throughout most of the history of Hollywood war movies. Think of a far less clichéd version of 'The Green Berets' (1968) minced with elements from 'Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence' (1983) and 'Shining Through' (1992), and you get the idea. At the same time, there are definite and sometimes annoying shades of 'The English Patient' (1996) here, where a paying audience is forced to watch Fiennes internalize in bed a lot while tortured by sickness and memories of his lost love, and it does smack of 'The Dirty Dozen' (1967), where the bad guys are basically sneering, one dimensional targets, and you're supposed to believe that many of the rescuers who actually secured MacArthur's foothold in The Philippines upon his famed return were completely untested in battle before this raid. However, these minor flaws and the artistic license used (for instance, eye witness sketches of Zero Ward only show grass mats for beds, Palawan did have a survivor, and the release of Filipino POW's isn't mentioned) don't really detract from the over-all dramatic power that sustainably crackles across the big screen throughout this immensely satisfying hundred and thirty-two minute epic.

Wonderfully realized by this incredible ensemble cast of talent, absolutely check out 'The Great Raid' for its truly inspired depiction of historic bravery that makes it a potential classic that's much more than simply a contemporary homage to bygone WWII war movies.

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The Greatest Game Ever Played
REVIEWED 10/05, © STEPHEN BOURNE
www.ofrb.gov.on.ca | www.rcq.gouv.qc.ca


REVIEW:

This adaptation of screenwriter Mark Frost's 2003 book about 1913 US Open Golf Championship winner Francis Ouimet (1893-1967) is one of those struggle-against-adversity sports movies where, if you couldn't care less about the game, you're probably going to have a tough time sitting through most of it. Actor turned director Bill Paxton admitted in a recent interview that he wanted to shoot much of the tee-offs as though they were action scenes. Well, he does, but the enormous bravado of ear-splitting music and breakneck CGI effects that are injected into each swing at the little white balls feels almost silly at times throughout this hundred and twenty-minute effort. Imagine Jerry Bruckheimer producing a commercial about making a sandwich in your kitchen, and you get the idea of what I mean. This isn't like 'The Legend of Bagger Vance' (2000) or even 'Tin Cup' (1996), and the contemporary film making hipness doesn't fit with this precisely wardrobed Period piece. 'The Greatest Game Ever Played' seems to be all about looking great and patching together this cast's fairly decent performances with editing tricks, so you're never really allowed to know twenty year-old Ouimet (played by Shia LaBeouf; 'Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle' (2003), 'Constantine' (2005)) as anything other than a stereotypically familiar under dog who just wants that one chance to live a childhood dream.

Much of the context seems secondary, when what probably should have been focused on were more of the small events of hugely significant drama and insight that fuelled this young man's passion. It feels like a kid's movie rife for direct-to-video or rainy day TV viewing, where any of the truly interesting grown up stuff - like the love interest with upper crust Sara Wallis (TV's 'As the World Turns' regular Peyton List) or the class struggles of Ouimet's immigrant father (Montreal's Elias Koteas; 'Collateral Damage' (2002)) - are summarily glossed over in favour of tritely chirpy quips from child caddie Eddie Lowery (Josh Flitter; 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind' (2004)) and more clichéd pomp and cacophony. Sure, the sub plot involving tormented Brit Golf champ Harry Vardon (1870-1937) (deftly acted by Stephen Dillane; 'Hamlet (1990), 'King Arthur' (2004)) is wonderfully fascinating to see evolve, but he's not the focal character here. That's where Frost's script tends to sabotage itself. It loses sight of the protagonist as a fully realized character, and loads up the screen with peripheral details that pull your attention away from what should matter and pull you into this world. I actually had to check out the Francis Ouimet Scholarship Fund website hosted by the Massachusetts-based William F. Connell Golf House & Museum (www.ouimet.org) to find out how important this particular guy was. Disappointing. I'm not even sure that Golf enthusiasts would enjoy this one, because the game itself isn't really represented with a relevant intellect in mind for real players to tap into - unless you're ten. That's not an overly bad thing, and this flick isn't a complete turkey, but it is more of a contrived mishmash awkwardly bloated by post-production wizardry than a serious biopic.

Check out this live action Disney confection as a reasonably entertaining family-friendly second or third-choice rental, but don't be surprised if your buttery microwave popcorn seems more fulfilling than the movie does.

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Garam Masala
REVIEWED 11/05, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

This was an outrage. Makrand "Mak" Godbole (Akshay Kumar), Garam Masala Magazine's top photographer and all round super cool guy, had been summarily sidestepped for a plum photo shoot in America and publicly demoted to photographer's assistant by his boss, simply because Mak's former assistant Sam (John Abraham) - now promoted to being Garam Masala Magazine's top photographer with all of the perks that Godbole had enjoyed - had dubiously won the cherished International Press Photography Award. Not only that, but that scoundrel Sam had stolen away the affections of receptionist Maggie, leaving Makrand without anyone but his prim fiancée Anjali to fall back on. No more all expenses paid apartment. No more imported sports car. He now had to carry the bags and wipe the lenses of the guy who used to do his bidding, as soon as Sam returned fro the States. It was a scandalous abomination, totally unfair, and really, really bad. However, in a drunken haze, Mak had devised his revenge. He would do everything in his power to have three of everything Sam now had. An apartment three-times as posh as what Sam had. Three imported sports cars for every one Sam had. And, since Sam had Maggie as his girlfriend, Mak would have three hot girlfriends taking turns at keeping him company. He'd start there, with lovely and gracious air hostesses Pooja and Sweety and Deepti. Or, was it Sweety and Pooja and Deepti... uh, Deepti and Sweety and Pooja? Mambo (Paresh Rawal), Godbole's grumpy old cook and housekeeper, would know because he was in charge of keeping straight what photo went in the frame to match when each one's flight arrived as the others' departed for Bangkok or Singapore. All goes smoothly, until Sam shows up and quickly realizes that Mak's leading a life well worth stealing... and then, the flight schedules change!

With the rash of surprisingly disappointing comedies coming out of Bollywood lately, this fairly simplistic yet wonderfully campy farce - and contemporary South Asian retooling of the Tony Curtis/Jerry Lewis swingin' spoof 'Boeing Boeing' (1965) - from co-writer/director Priyadarshan ('Hulchul' (2004), 'Kyun Ki' (2005)) is like a breath of fresh air. Akshay Kumar ('Mr. Bond' (1992), 'Waqt: The Race Against Time' (2005)) is absolutely hilarious here as Garam Masala Magazine's arrogant and humiliated staff photographer Mak, whose jealousy over his bumbling assistant Sam (John Abraham; 'Paap' (2003), 'Water' (2005)) being promoted after dubiously winning the International Press Photography Award lands Mak in a childish game of one upmanship and three airline hostess girlfriends who threaten his romance with prim fiancée Anjali (Rimi Sen; 'Dhoom' (2004), 'Kyun Ki' (2005)). Sure, it's hugely contrived and does seem mildly regurgitated from Hollywood's classic screwballs. Yes, Priyadarshan's and Neeraj Vora's script does feel somewhat cobbled together on the fly throughout, often forgetting to tie up the loose ends before the riotous finale. The musical interludes are also fairly middle of the road. And, clocking in at a hundred and forty-two minutes, 'Garam Masala' does take its time in getting to the good stuff. However, a paying audience is definitely rewarded with loads of non-stop laughs once the ridiculously funny playfulness and physical goofiness lurches into high gear approximately halfway through. Full marks also go to Paresh Rawal ('Sir' (1993), 'Aan: Men at Work' (2004)) as Mak's curmudgeonly cook and housekeeper Mambo relentlessly frazzled by the boys' romantic shenanigans, and this subtitled romp does a great job at - according to the closing credits - introducing Nitu Chandra (playing girlfriend #1 Sweety), Nargis Bagheri (as girlfriend #2 Pooja) and the movie's "It Girl Worth Watching" Daisy Bopanna (girlfriend #3, Deepti) to the big screen. I wanted to see Sen and funnyman Rajpal Yadav ('Paheli' (2005), 'Waqt: The Race Against Time' (2005)) featured as more than sporadically used pieces of human furniture, though. All the same, Kumar does an outstanding job at deftly making this enjoyable flick an incredibly satisfying showcase for his versatile acting talent.

It's not the greatest example of Indian Cinema, but 'Garam Masala' is an undeniably memorable confection that teenaged and older moviegoers can laugh along with as a worthwhile rental.

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Get Rich or Die Tryin'
REVIEWED 11/05, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

The claustrophobic inertia of Marcus Grier's (Curtis "50 Cent" Jackson) life skirting New York's underworld of drug peddlers and turf wars had finally led him here, to prison, confined to a solitude that he was barely able to endure. His beloved mother had been brutally taken from him when Marcus was still a boy. He never knew who his father was. Selling dime bags on street corners seemed to be the only thing that he was ever any good at making money at. Sure, he liked to write songs, but that had gotten him and his childhood friend Charlene (Joy Bryant) into more trouble than it was worth. It was his dream to become a great Rap artist, and he'd even come up with a name for himself - Little Caesar - but it was really only a dream. Something to dabble in, when Marcus needed to clear his mind of the business of getting paid. He had his own territory under the watchful Gangland eye of Majestic (Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje), and Marcus' skill as a reliable money maker had even impressed their stoic and very strict kingpin leader Levar (Bill Duke). Life had been good to Marcus. But, there had to be more. Charlene had come back and was with him, but there was still something missing. He had a voice within himself that needed to be heard. Now, after that stupid crime of vengeance against Raoul the Colombian had riled Levar and had thrown him behind these cold iron bars, Marcus, prisoner #91595, had all the time in the world to figure out what he needed to do. The razor blade slid under his cell door would have been the easier way out. He'd considered slashing his wrists. But, what would that have done to his Grandparents? Would Charlene have understood and forgiven him? Moving forward and focusing on his music made a lot more sense. Bama (Terrence Howard), his prison mate and friend from North Carolina, agreed, later pointing out that Grier truly had a gift for rhyme that touched people. The inertia was broken. A new life awaited Marcus on the outside. However, Majestic had other ideas, insisting that Marcus rejoin the fray as his right hand man and walk away from the music that had saved his life.

Reportedly based on the early life of rapper 50 Cent, this fairly entertaining contemporary rags to riches flick from director Jim Sheridan ('In the Name of the Father' (1993), 'In America' (2002)) is a joy to sit through at times. Sure, this is Curtis "50 Cent" Jackson's first feature length starring role and it does show throughout. His performance is probably the weakest and least eye catching presence, and he did (hopefully as a joke) mention in a recent interview that he wanted to make sure that it was believable when the bullets enter his body during an attempted murder that galvanizes his character's course of action, but Jackson definitely does more than simply twitch and ooze fake blood on cue. Television's 'The Sopranos' (1999-2007) writer Terence Winter's screenplay manages to construct a truly captivating story about this fatherless small time dealer - Marcus Grier, played by Jackson - haunted by his mother's cruel death, and who struggles against self-made adversities to find strength, freedom and redemption through his music. If that sounds slightly familiar, 'Get Rich or Die Tryin'' does feel somewhat like a watered down remake of the far superior 'Hustle & Flow' (2005) at certain points, but there are enough fresh turns in the plot to make this hundred and thirty-four minute tale click along at a good pace. It works as a low key drama. As does Sheridan smartly surrounding his leading man of few words with hugely capable talent that includes Joy Bryant ('Antwone Fisher' (2002), 'The Skeleton Key' (2005)) playing his girlfriend Charlene, Terrence Howard ('The Best Man' (1999), 'Crash' (2005)) as prison friend turned manager Bama, and Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje ('The Mummy Returns' (2001), 'The Bourne Identity' (2002)) as Marcus' serpentine boss Majestic. Some of the best scenes are when these co-stars are given full reign and the lion's share of dialogue to keep a paying audience fascinated, and yet each actor masterfully shares the spotlight. You never forget who this flick is really about, and you're given solid reasons to care about what happens to Marcus. Top marks also go to Mpho Koaho's ('The Salton Sea' (2002), 'Four Brothers' (2005)) small role as Junebug, easily one of the most believably terrifying thugs seen in a long time. Yes, there are a couple of weird moments that don't quite fit properly, but they're hardly detrimental to the over-all picture. It's also a violent movie that does have its fair share of swearing that hammers at you from the opening credits, and there are a couple of nude scenes - one of which is cleverly built into a fairly gritty prison shower fight sequence - that hit you from left field, but all of that feels appropriate within the context of this big screen New York City Gangland world.

'Get Rich or Die Tryin'' certainly isn't a masterpiece of movie making, but it's definitely a well crafted journey worth enjoying as a memorable rental.

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Good Night and Good Luck
REVIEWED 11/05, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

They weren't fools. When famed reporter Edward R. Murrow (David Strathairn) had cited the seemingly inconsequential newspaper article about an Air Force Lieutenant being summarily dismissed because his father was seen reading a Soviet publication, Murrow and his producer Fred Friendly (George Clooney) were well aware that following up on that story was tantamount to lighting a short fuse leading all the way up to the Washington office of Senator Joseph McCarthy and his witch hunt committee of traitor sniffing grand standers. This was 1954 after-all. Any hint of dissension was Un-American. The Red Scare gripped the United States in a frenzy of overwhelming suspicion, and the New York studios of CBS weren't immune to being publicly vilified if McCarthy was given any reason to turn his hard lined gaze in their direction. Friendly went ahead with the story anyway, sending a film crew to interview the Lieutenant. The footage was explosive. Pure gold worth airing. The military had already paid a warning visit regarding the transcript. It was a probable nail in the coffin lid, for any journalist who valued his personal privacy and his career. The small set of 'See It Now' was thick with nervous energy as Fred crouched beside Murrow and counted down the seconds before that chilled March evening's live broadcast. Three seconds. Thick white smoke from Murrow's trademark cigarette clung to the air like a shroud of ghosts, as Ed mentally prepared himself for the single camera that was cannon-positioned and aimed squarely at him, ready to capture the unwavering volley of controversial truths that he was about to eloquently present to his National audience of loyal fans and eager detractors. And, to McCarthy sympathizers armed with files of oftentimes embellished scandal that had ruined countless lives for the sake of a cause gone terribly wrong. He was right and morally obligated to be the boy who proclaimed that the Emperor had no clothes, but Ed also knew that being right at the wrong time could get your head lopped off. Two seconds. His shirt collar felt tight. Beyond the microphone's reach, the production booth achingly filled with deathly silence as the program's crew of technicians and staff held their breath and froze. This was a defining moment. Moreso than any other that Murrow and Friendly had brought them through during these past four years of trailblazing news reporting that they had championed and endured, and they all knew that the consequences this time would be grim at best. One second...

One aspect of this sometimes fascinating Warner Independent 2005 black and white film from actor/co-writer/director George Clooney ('Confessions of a Dangerous Mind' (2002)) that continually hits you is its wonderfully minimalist approach, allowing star David Strathairn's ('Memphis Belle' (1990), 'Twisted' (2004)) mesmerizing portrayal of legendary wartime radio and early television reporter Egbert "Edward" Roscoe Murrow (1908-1965) to shine through in virtually every scene that he's in. Strathairn's performance is absolutely riveting. However, the other predominant aspect of 'Good Night and Good Luck', which dramatically chronicles in point form the origins and fallout of Murrow's March 9, 1954 live TV edition of 'See It Now' (1951-1955) regarding US Senator Joseph Raymond McCarthy's (1908-1957) (actual footage of McCarthy is used) aggressive witch hunt for Soviet spies and sympathizers, is that it never really rises to Murrow's challenge to television - and, by acquaintance, any media, including motion pictures. For all the praise still lauded upon Murrow as being the unsurpassable apex of reportage decades after his death, he was an opportunistic provocateur with a strong talent for elocution and an arguably idealistic conviction that truth in journalism should reign uncensored and supersede entertainment. He clearly lost. Sure, this ninety-three minute cinematic slice of bygone live broadcasting makes Murrow's stance abundantly clear to a paying audience throughout, but it seems superficial and selectively focused on, well, being entertaining as opposed to being informative as part of a well rounded biopic. For instance, you're not encouraged to leave afterwards feeling as though you know any of these people any better. Nothing much is made of the obvious irony that Murrow also hosted 'Person to Person' (1953-1955), a rather fluffy talk show in which he primarily interviewed celebrities in their homes via satellite feed, even though this flick does touch on that program here. In other words, you see these extraordinary portrayals within a confined space, but at arm's length. The story feels like it's really about something else. Unlike with 'All the President's Men' (1976), which might be considered this flick's peer on the surface, I kept being reminded of 'Manufacturing Consent: Noam Chomsky and the Media' (1992), frankly. It's as though Clooney wanted to make a David versus Goliath movie - where Murrow is both likably righteous under dog and admirable intellectual giant to McCarthy - as a kind of allegory about how politics and corporate interests affect what's considered by those in power as preferable viewing now, as judged through a fifty year-old lens when that battle was just gearing up. In that respect, unfortunately, there's no real context afforded the McCarthy Hearings for a contemporary audience to truly comprehend its impact at the time, unless you plug what's played out into what ever stance you've taken regarding American President George W. Bush's "Red Scare"-like policies in the wake of 9/11 and Gulf War II.

It's a great movie well worth renting for the truly superior acting from Strathairn, but the screenplay as a whole fails to really give you anything more than what your history buff and/or conspiracy theorist genes bring along to fill in the blanks.

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Grandma's Boy
REVIEWED 01/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
www.ofrb.gov.on.ca | www.rcq.gouv.qc.ca


REVIEW:

Remember how 'Porky's' (1981) and 'Revenge of the Nerds' (1984) basically sexed up 'Animal House' (1978) for a new generation of moviegoers way back when? Well, feeling somewhat inspired by those successful romps while pretty well following in the footsteps of 'American Pie' (1999) and 'Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle' (2004), debuting director Nicholaus Goossen's rambunctiously naughty effort for the most part wonderfully satirizes the enigmatic world of computer game creators. Sophomoric obsessions specific to X-rated exploits and toilet humour saturate 'Grandma's Boy', with thirty-six year-old Van Nuys, California game tester Alex (Allen Covert; 'The Wedding Singer' (1998), '50 First Dates' (2004)) bumbling through a sporadically simmering romance with newly appointed consultant Samantha (Linda Cardellini; 'Good Burger' (1997), 'Scooby Doo 2: Monsters Unleashed' (2004)) while Alex deals with having no place left to live except with his doting Grandmother Lilly (TV's 'Everybody Loves Raymond' co-star Doris Roberts; 'The Rose' (1979), 'Dickie Roberts: Former Child Star' (2003)) and her two fairly stereotypical house mates, brassy Grace ('The Partridge Family' small screen matriarch and Oscar-winner Shirley Jones; 'Carousel' (1956), 'Manna From Heaven' (2002)) and foggy Bea (Shirley Knight; 'As Good as It Gets' (1997), 'Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood' (2002)). This one's definitely not a remake of the 1922 Harold Lloyd Silent film, and the timing of its release pretty well indicates that enough people were embarrassed to let this obvious Summer curiosity out of the can and be noticed too closely.

Yes, it's funny in a juvenile way more often than not, but the main problem is that Covert seems more comfortable with sitting in the background as the lone voice of reason - much like Vince Vaughn's miscast leading role in 'Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story' (2004) - allowing his supporting cast members free reign to continually wrestle each other for the camera's attention throughout. It's exasperating, watching Covert almost grudgingly step into his few "look at me being funny, sorry about that," moments in contrast to pretty well every other cast member's wildly frenetic live action caricature hilariously overwhelmed by Nick Swardson's ('Almost Famous' (2000), 'Malibu's Most Wanted' (2003)) riotously deadpan shenanigans as Alex's man child friend Jeff, and Joel Moore's ('Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story') brilliantly realized role as malevolently quirky programming genius JP. Moore effortlessly steals every scene he's in, blurting out weird noises and robot voices while beautifully over exaggerating a socially inept Diva self-immersed in 'The Matrix' (1999) and all things techno-fantasy. It's almost as though this actually would have starred Adam Sandler, if he didn't care about ever appearing in another family movie. Sure, Corvert's, Swardson's and Barry Wernick's screenplay won't be everyone's cup of tea. I found the entire sub plot featuring dopey pot dealer Dante (Peter Dante; 'The Waterboy' (1998), 'Stuck On You' (2003)) and his bones and face paint wearing African guest Dr. Shakalu (Abdoulaye N'Gom; 'George of the Jungle' (1997), 'Confidence' (2003)) to be outrageously derogatory and boring, for instance. Over-all, you do have to wait for the laughs, and many of the sight gags are contrived and almost embarrassingly belaboured, but this ninety-six minute F-bomb and nudity tinged comedy does contain a lot of worthwhile childish irreverence if you just want to switch off above the neck and laugh at the goofiness while your parents are away.

I wouldn't recommend paying full price at the theatre to check it out, but it's certainly worth seeing as a second or third choice rental.

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Glory Road
REVIEWED 01/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Adapting a wonderfully captivating yet slightly narrow script from 1997 Naismith Basketball Hall of Famer Don Haskins' humourously audacious entitled 2005 autobiography, Glory Road: My Story of the 1966 NCAA Basketball Championship and How One Team Triumphed Against the Odds and Changed America Forever, this live action Disney feature from debuting director James Gartner definitely feels a lot like a back dated remake of 'Coach Carter' (2005) at times, but certainly delivers where it counts. 'Glory Road' tells the story of how Haskins (Josh Lucas; 'Sweet Home Alabama' (2002), 'Stealth' (2005)) coached Texas Western University's under dog basketball team, The Miners, towards playing against the crowd favourites for the National Championships. It doesn't sound like much of a true story to base a movie on, until you consider that half of his players were Black and that this happened during the tumultuous formative years of the Civil Rights Movement in America. As ludicrous as it seems nowadays, the game of hoops and dribbles invented by a Canadian and enjoyed by millions worldwide was considered a Whites Only sport up until about forty years ago. The powers that were grudgingly accepted a few token "coloureds" at the local level and none at the national level. 'Glory Road' beautifully encapsulates that uneasy dynamic as the challenged norm for Chris Cleveland's cleverly understated screenplay.

It's not specifically a political movie, but it's got that very rare balance of examining compelling subject matter that's realized within the context of a superior human drama. Sure, it's still primarily a sports flick at heart, never truly examining the wide reaching political repercussions of what transpires on the big screen, but the Race Card is played enough times at intelligently selective moments throughout this memorably inspiring hundred and seventeen-minute picture. What's most impressive is that the actual epithets of that era are used in such a way that you're not given the opportunity to hate this effort. Good stuff. Of course, most of the characters are basically familiar stereotypes that each follow individually unsurprising paths towards overcoming whatever personal odds they face. That tendency of rehashing clichés is really the only major flaw here. However, it's one that definitely doesn't get in the way of a paying audience becoming thoroughly satisfied by how those journeys pan out before and during the big game. A minor flaw is not bothering to explain what's wrong with or funny about Haskins formerly coaching girl's high school basketball before switching jobs, but I guess that might just be an inside joke for jocks that's not worth worrying about - unless perhaps you play girl's high school basketball. What I liked was how Josh Lucas' scenes almost magically captured the same electrifying intensity of fragile passion for a chosen sport as seen from Kevin Costner in 'Field of Dreams' (1989). Also, Derek Luke ('Antwone Fisher' (2002), 'Friday Night Lights' (2004)) and newcomer Schin A.S. Kerr both pull in extraordinary performances here as self-defeatist guard Bobby Joe Hill and intimidating star center David Lattin respectively, but this entire cast truly is a joy to watch.

I'm not particularly a fan of basketball by any stretch of the imagination, but 'Glory Road' is an absolutely satisfying and entertaining feature that's about more than showing a lot of fancy foot work. Awesome.

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The Guardian
REVIEWED 10/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

On the eve of his troubled marriage falling apart, still haunted by a horrifying accident in the North Pacific that killed his entire helicopter crew during a failed night rescue mission, longtime Alaska-based U.S. Coast Guard Master Diver Ben Randall (Kevin Costner; 'Silverado' (1985), 'Rumor Has It...' (2005)) is given little choice but to accept transfer to Southern, inland training facilities as its new instructor, just as stoic former swim team champ Jake Fischer (Ashton Kutcher; 'Texas Rangers' (2001), 'A Lot Like Love' (2005)) arrives at that elite school with a unit of untested recruits all eager to prove their mettle towards becoming Coast Guard rescue divers, in director Andrew Davis' ('Above the Law' (1988), 'Holes' (2003)) initially effective yet agonizingly long drama, where Fischer's smugness over his abilities in the water soon leads to Randall's blunt skepticism that this ace cadet is ready to lay his life on the line under the worst circumstances to save another.

Admittedly, I expected to see an updated, oceananic version of 'An Officer and a Gentleman' (1982) before checking out this hundred and thirty-six minute feature. The similarities seemed obvious, even though 'Men of Honor' (2000) and 'Annapolis' (2006) are probably more recent examples of that somewhat over used template of "Old Lion meets Young Turk". If nothing else, 'The Guardian' definitely proves that there really aren't any new stories coming out of Hollywood anymore (there's a rumour, uh, floating around that it's actually an Americanized retooling of 'Umizaru' (2004)), and that moviegoers should really only hope for the invention of fresh ways and imaginative twists in telling those old familiar handful of tales. As it stands, this interesting and hugely dramatic but gradually pedantic feature is more like 'Heartbreak Ridge' (1986), with Costner essentially doing his best cantankerous Clint Eastwood impersonation while Kutcher's performance bobs in limbo between those of 'Heartbreak's Mario Van Peebles and 'Officer's Richard Gere. There's some semblance of mindset change that runs through the arcs of the two primary stars, but their fictional roles still fail to shake loose incessant resemblances that ultimately make a paying audience feel as though these are contrived copies of far superior motion picture predecessors. The acting is good, but the elbow room afforded is aggravatingly constricting. Unfortunately, I came out of the theatre afterwards with the residual sinking feeling that I could easily pick out every scene in 'The Guardian' from a relatively short list of previously made military movies, because there really doesn't feel as though there's anything new happening in this one. Sure, there might be, I just didn't notice it during the screening that I and a dozen other ticket holders sat through on opening night.

However, the major problem is that this picture runs far too long after the main story has concluded, attempting to come full circle by cobbling an exasperatingly cheesy case of unnecessary redemption for Costner's character. He's tossed him back into the game one last time when Kutcher's Fischer takes on too much, despite Randall already accepting that he's long past his prime. The gauntlet had already been passed. Ben was already coming to terms with his retirement and rebuilding contact with his ex-wife Helen (Sela Ward; 'The Man Who Loved Women' (1983), 'The Day After Tomorrow' (2004)). There's no reason for writer Ron L. Brinkerhoff's screenplay to continue down the overtly boring path it then chose, but you're not allowed to move on and escape what drones out next. It's awful. Perhaps Costner's agent demanded an addendum so that his client could act like a hero five times instead of four times in what ends up becoming a big screen slog. At any rate, the last half hour is like watching a train needlessly wreck itself in a futile and painfully lack luster blaze of glory. The drama sprinkled with a little fun romance between Fischer and local school teacher Emily (Melissa Sagemiller; 'Get Over It' (2001), 'The Clearing' (2004)) turns into a heavily CGI reliant, 1970's style disaster flick. 'The Guardian' meets 'Poseidon' (2006). yawn. The closing credits are also tastelessly exploitative, mixing U.S.C.G. photos of the real devastation from the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina with images of this cast posing as though they were on post there.

If you've seen the ads as well as the other movies cited here, you've already seen much of what's notable enough about this one, and the couple of good full scenes that appear in the final cut really aren't worth the price of admission or the time spent waiting for.

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