The Man
REVIEWED 09/05, © STEPHEN BOURNE
www.ofrb.gov.on.ca | www.rcq.gouv.qc.ca


REVIEW:

Nearly a hundred assault weapons were stolen from the Federal vaults of Detroit's H. P. Baldwin Building during a daring night heist that left Special Agent Derrick Vann's (Samuel L. Jackson) partner dead on the 94 freeway and Internal Affairs screaming for answers. Vann is implicated in the robbery, but he doesn't care. His commander, Lieutenant Carnone (Susie Essman), has warned him not to turn this into a one-man war, but Vann's not listening. He hustles up a deal through his street wise snitch Booty with the off-shore arms dealer responsible, with Derrick as an interested buyer for that stolen arsenal. The trap is set. All he needs to do is cruise his nasty big Cadillac over to the Midtown Diner across from The Concord Hotel, and show up with an edition of USA Today. Problem is, after Vann pulls up, he can't find a copy of that newspaper anywhere. Conventioneering Wisconsin Dental Equipment sales rep Andy Fiddler (Eugene Levy) has the last copy from the box outside, and he's inside the diner when the deal goes down. Joey (Luke Goss), the gang's front man here in Motown, thinks Fiddler's the buyer and hands over a taste of his deadly merchandise. Later, as Vann's long black car careens through the streets to try this thing a second time, Andy recalls that Joey had nice teeth. His hair was short, making his head seem smaller than it was, but Andy explains that this is normal and that he's heard that a lot from other people, about people who have short hair that makes their heads look smaller than they really are. Vann wants to kick the butt of this annoying chatterbox sales rep turned cooperative suspect sitting in the passenger seat beside him. The description is useless. It gave him a headache. Andy needs to shut up. He needs a beating. Several. Immediately. Plan B doesn't work either, and Joey eventually kidnaps Fiddler for the twenty-one grand that Vann has borrowed from lock up to nab these killers. He needs more money. Andy is hungry. Vann needs to stop that truck load of police guns from slipping away from him. Andy has a question. Vann vows to stop at nothing to see vengeful justice punish Joey and his crew for the murder of his partner. Andy is feeling a little gassy.

Reportedly shot in Toronto and its suburbs, this fairly soft comedy buddy flick from director Les Mayfield ('Encino Man' (1992), 'American Outlaws' (2001)) feels like a throw back to 'Cop and 1/2' (1993) and other disappointingly pedantic cop movies of ten or twenty years ago. There's really nothing new here, despite co-stars Samuel L. Jackson's ('Jurassic Park' (1993), 'Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith' (2005)) and Hamilton, Ontario's Eugene Levy's ('Splash' (1984), 'A Mighty Wind' (2003)) obvious efforts to pull visibly living hilarity out of Jim Piddock's, Margaret Oberman's and Stephen Carpenter's rather tepid screenplay throughout. 'The Man' might have worked as a measurably fun time for kids or as a family picture, but there's a lot of swearing that pretty well makes this one off limits for anyone who probably would have enjoyed much of what's offered but isn't allowed to or couldn't care less about checking it out at the big screen. Jackson plays an irritable, Shaft-like Detroit-based Federal Special Agent named Derrick Van who's stuck with Levy's klutzy chatterbox character, Wisconsin Dental Supply sales rep Andy Fiddler, when a surprisingly unimaginative case of mistaken identity leads underground guns dealer Joey (former London-based Bros singer Luke Goss; 'Blade II' (2002)) to believe that Fiddler wants to buy a shipment of weapons recently stolen from the local police. Huh? It's blatant contrivance, vaguely spun together to create another enormously boring fish out of water scenario steeped in lame one-liners and implausible plot developments until the real acting jobs materialize that actually bother to use this otherwise capable talent, I guess. Sure, it's fun to spot the Toronto landmarks that peek out from the background, but this is a motion picture about something else, not a tourist guide book of Hogtown's seedier sights. 'The Hard Way' (1991) and 'Analyse This' (1999) - both entertaining comedies with a similar theme - easily came to mind while sitting through this aggravating and embarrassingly unfunny eighty-three minute cinematic sleeping pill. 'The Man' is the kind of movie that's so incredibly humourless that you end up laughing at it because of that, as well as laugh at your masochistic need to slog through it until the closing credits, just in case something funny finally does happen by mistake. It doesn't happen.

As far as this pile of nonsense is concerned, funny left the building a couple of hours ago. Yawn.

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Munich
REVIEWED 12/05, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Five circles overlapping like a chain emblazoned the background of the horrifying television coverage that still burned in Avner's (Eric Bana) mind as he prepared the table. The five round links of the Olympic Summer Games' logo. A brand of world champions brought together this twentieth time, now rings drenched in the blood of dead Israeli athletes brutally murdered in Munich by Black September weeks earlier. Jews killed in Germany. Again. Unwillingly sacrificed for political rhetoric. Again. People continued to play games and tried to forget the unforgettable. The unforgivable. Five round plates, each placed on that dining room table for Avner's first meal with the men assigned to respond with mortal justice. To kill those Palestinians in hiding who had sent killers to Munich. Schemers and financiers of the massacre that was watched on live television around the world. The world did nothing. History repeats itself. Avner would sit and break bread with his small team of assassins who had been secretly brought together by headquarters in Tel Aviv and were officially unknown to their Mossad employers. Mercenaries, given unlimited resources. The Sword of Gideon. Murderers. Steve (Daniel Craig; 'Lara Croft: Tomb Raider' (2001), 'Layer Cake' (2004)). Carl (Ciarán Hinds; 'Veronica Guerin' (2003), 'The Phantom of the Opera' (2004)). Robert (Mathieu Kassovitz; 'Jakob the Liar' (1999), 'Astérix & Obélix: Mission Cléopâtre' (2002)). Hans (Hanns Zischler; 'Europa Europa' (1990), 'Ripley's Game' (2002)). Avner would look into their eyes. These unlikely brothers called to arms. His death squad. They would sit at this table and eat and drink. They would talk and smile at each other as friends, knowing full well what the consequences of this mission were. In the days to come, news reports of men linked to Black September would begin to die. Bombs - placed in their telephones or under their beds - detonated by remote control from an unassuming car idling on the street nearby, would tear flesh from bone with ugly vengeance. Bullets would punch from the shadows into skulls and internal organs at point blank range. Blood would spill. Jews would be avenged. No one was safe. Tonight, these five men enter into a righteous case for Israel that they can never talk about. Tomorrow, they take a path that will lead them towards becoming less than human, for the sake of humanity...

Based on author George Jonas' 1984 book Vengeance: The True Story of an Israeli Counter-Terrorist Team, and set within the course of months following the real events of the Munich Massacre that took place during the 1972 Summer Olympic Games, director Steven Spielberg's incredibly gritty yet tush numbing offering feels like it aspires to be viewed as an old fashioned, nuts and bolts suspense movie for the most part. Unfortunately, 'Munich' tends to lose a lot of its momentum without successfully achieving a gripping sense of tortured dilemma for this ensemble cast led by Eric Bana ('Hulk' (2003), 'Troy' (2004)) as Avner, hesitant leader of the Mossad's unofficial death squad called The Sword of Gideon dispatched to kill those responsible for plotting that deadly hostage taking of eleven Israeli athletes by the Black September arm of the PLO. Yes, Bana's performance teeters on the brink of greatness throughout, but his visible softness quickly sabotages any notion that he's playing a highly trained former soldier turned security agent. A paying audience is barely given clear insight into how his character's supposed vengeance rapt mind begins to question the mission under a cloud of suspected double cross, because he seems to already be regretful and self-loathing before his team's first target is maimed. As though cinematographer Janusz Kaminski is afraid to get his lens too close to the much needed subtleties of gesture and expression that would have otherwise strengthened Bana's attempts at fleshing out his complex role. As it stands, the complexities are non-existent, lazily replaced by fairly uneventful bouts of raised voice moments opposite various on screen players. Yawn. The film itself also tends to drag you through a series of false endings that don't really go anywhere nor lend any substance to what is essentially a human drama set against the backdrop of this contentious historical flash point. I'm not suggesting that Spielberg should have turned this picture into a bullet-riddled live action cartoon of trite entertainment, but Tony Kushner's and Eric Roth's screenplay seems in equal parts to be far too laid back, too impersonalized and overtly intellectualized for its own good. You don't see the ugly and confused guts of what is probably one of the most emotionally overwhelming events in the lives of these men - both the hunters and their prey. Arguably, Spielberg has always been a better observer of specifics than a master story teller, but he's possibly let concern over depicting real events and real people turn all of these characters into safely distant caricatures and stereotypical human finger puppets. There's no tangible sign of seething outrage over these murdered Jews in contemporary Germany, nor in response to other members of Black September having successfully escaped a subsequent hijacking attempt. Later, when Avner finally comes face to face with one of his targets on the balcony of hotel, there's no sense of suspense or mixed emotions or anything that could have easily punctuated the scene as one of several powerful turning points in his story arc. All you're really left with is waiting for the series of gruesomely recreated Munich Massacre flashbacks to play out and hold your interest as little more than fodder for post-screening debate. To that end, 'Sword of Gideon' (1986) or the documentary 'One Day in September' (1999) are likely better choices.

Rent this one as a curiosity whose subject matter has dubiously revived controversy surrounding the original events, but it's hardly worth spending a whopping hundred and sixty-four minutes with if you're hoping to come away feeling impressed.

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Memoirs of a Geisha
REVIEWED 12/05, © STEPHEN BOURNE
www.ofrb.gov.on.ca | www.rcq.gouv.qc.ca


REVIEW:

Chiyo (Suzuka Ohgo) was nine years old when she was ripped from her ramshackle home on the rocky coast of Japan that fateful stormy night. Her mother lay in a corner, quietly dying, as Chiyo's father fought back tears of hard guilt and had sold her and her big sister to the man who would in turn sell her to the Geisha house cloistered miles away in the bustling town of Kyoto that would be her prison until she breathed her last breath. Chiyo didn't want to become a Geisha. She had wanted to go home. She had struggled, but was too little. She had tried to escape many times, but her search for her sister had ended with abandonment and more cruel punishments. Her small hands were worked raw, scrubbing the floors while harsh insults stabbed at her from the women who lived there and were order to treat Chiyo as a slave. Just one of their beautifully embroidered silken kimonos was considered to be worth far more than she was, and Chiyo was never allowed to forget it. Weeks slipped by into months, as hopelessness closed in to slowly crush the spirit that burned brightly behind Chiyo's soft blue eyes. She could see that there was nothing left for her. That she was as helpless as the fallen blossoms that were swept along by the currents that flowed under the nearby bridge, where Chiyo would sit and cry. Alone. Ignored. Until The Chairman (Ken Watanabe) happened to see her, and had tried to comfort her with his soothing voice and the gift of a cherry flavoured treat. She had amused him by rubbing the cherry juice on her lips to imitate the glowing painted smile of his accompanying Geisha. His kind laughter had warmed Chiyo's tiny heart, and she decided then and there that she would devote the rest of her days to do anything to remain the object of his attention. To become a graceful thing of art for him to proudly keep by his side for all eternity. To be loved by him alone, as his prized Geisha.

Well, that was a painfully long nap. This hugely self-indulgent Period snooze fest from choreographer turned director Rob Marshall ('Chicago' (2002)) - that may as well have been called Pimp My Japanese Debutante - is adapted from novelist Arthur Golden's 1997 book, and has already snapped up Golden Globe nominations for Best Actress and Best Original Score. However, there isn't much in 'Memoirs of a Geisha' that's really worth sitting through its aggravatingly monotonous hundred and forty-five minute run time for. Sure, the meticulously detailed sets and traditional costumes depicting life in pre-WWII Japan are truly incredible, but screenwriters Robin Swicord's and Doug Wright's script about young Chiyo's tumultuous indoctrination into the harsh world of Geisha-dom is so labouriously monotone in breadth and depth that the lush window dressing seems completely wasted here. The continuous lack of clear explanations throughout is infuriating, as you sit through scene after pedantic scene of actor Suzuka Ohgo ('Kita no zeronen' (2005)) portraying blue-eyed Little Chiyo vaguely attempting escape to find her sister or curiously being brutalized by the house Diva and others, without this picture bothering to tell a paying audience why Chiyo's worth more attention than any of the other girls to begin with. She's never taken under the wing of anyone important until much later - in fact, Ohgo's character is made a scapegoat and target for abuse. The last half of this dismally boring epic stars Ziyi Zhang ('Rush Hour 2' (2001), '2046' (2004)) stepping in as teenaged slave girl Chiyo, renamed Sayuri by the house mother and now encouraged to learn the ways of fine etiquette towards dancing the big show stopper that signals her virginity is ready for the taking by the highest bidder. Huh? Yes, there's a sub plot revolving around unrequited love that seems to be the motivating factor for her turn of so-called luck, but you're never really given a reason to feel as though it's a particularly burning ambition throughout this tale of feminine survival. 'Memoirs of a Geisha' is also incredibly confusing, at one point showing Sayuri being welcomed into a rival house as a Geisha-in-training, and then obviously still living at her old home. Why?

None of the story really makes any sense within the muddy context presented here, and no attempts are made to inject any lasting contemporary sensibility that might inspire you to care about what happens. So, you're basically left sitting in the dark while the pretty colours and contrived girlish tantrums wash over you, until the closing credits finally bring sweet release from this mind numbing cinematic sleeping pill. Yawn.

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Mrs. Henderson Presents
REVIEWED 01/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
www.ofrb.gov.on.ca | www.rcq.gouv.qc.ca


REVIEW:

Apparently, The Windmill Theatre featured in this weirdly half baked London Blitz era picture from director Stephen Frears ('The Grifters' (1990), 'Dirty Pretty Things' (2002)) actually did blaze the trail for Soho strip clubs by prudishly copying the Moulin Rouge's notoriously famous Burlesque acts of the last Century, but 'Mrs. Henderson Presents' seems far more interested in attempting to disguise that it's a soft porn tinged rip-off of the far more satisfying 'Being Julia' (2003) than actually bothering to give its acclaimed stars Judi Dench (Judi Dench; 'Die Another Day' (2002), 'Ladies in Lavender' (2004)) and Bob Hoskins ('Who Framed Roger Rabbit' (1988), 'Unleashed' (2005)) anything fresh to work with as the Windmill's new owner and recently widowed Dame Laura Henderson, and the theatre's bombastic manager Vivian Van Damm, respectively. Excuse the pun, but it's barely a movie. Sure, they dress up and then dress down most of the primary characters throughout while trying to cobble together a stereotypically rompish love/hate relationship of playfully lewd barbs between Dench and Hoskins, but most of this hundred and four-minute cheeky snooze fest seems far more interested in celebrating songs that hearken back to those that made Vera Lynn famous. You're left basically watching minor players stand on the stage and croon as the stars join the audience to telegraph what kind of warm and fluffy melancholy you're supposed to feel wash over you, as though the projectionist has somehow switched over to a wartime ditty tribute on Public Television.

Don't get me wrong, that would be fine if that's what you go in expecting to sit through. It's not how this flick is being promoted, though. And, while it's momentarily fun watching Dench and Hoskins play dress up while the city's skyline boils with the pretty orange and magenta pastels from Hitler's bombing runs, the entire reality of that situation seems tritely devalued for the most part. As a straight up comedy, it doesn't work either, sabotaging your enjoyment of the slap and tickle Peep Show that subsequently overwhelms each scene of belaboured sight gags and lame punch lines loosely held together by a paper thin screenplay from Martin Sherman. The sheer glee that this cast obviously has in pulling a pay cheque for little work at the expense of apparently unimportant things such as basic character development or intelligent story telling simply fails to be the least bit contagious. It actually does feel like Hugh Hefner edited this thing together from the out takes of 'Being Julia', so that octogenarians could get a chuckle out of seeing nudity without feeling dirty. Yawn. Additionally, the whole notion that Mrs. Henderson wants to impishly break the rules of outdated decency to show Britain's soldiers a bevy of perky naked boobies as Art because her supposedly virtuous twenty-one year-old son hid a naughty French postcard under his bed before being sent off to die in the trenches of WWI doesn't really sit too well. It's a contrived justification sheepishly presented after the fact, regardless of whether or not it's true. Think of the vaguely similar six-time Oscar-winner 'Mrs. Miniver' (1942) or - probably more appropriately - anything on film from The Carry On Gang, and sitting through this pile of cinematic nonsense feels even more like a complete waste of time and money. The funniest bits - such as they are - are in the ads you've likely already seen. So, why bother? If you want to see a theatre revue, it seems utterly ridiculous that you'd make a b-line to the cinema. If you want to see nude women posing as works of Art without feeling like a pervert, well uh, expose yourself to the Italian Renaissance exhibit at the National Gallery instead. If you want to see these otherwise capable actors in a wonderfully worthwhile film that demonstrates the full potential of their abilities, rent something else.

Quite frankly, watching a small terrier that's wearing tasselled pasties do back flips on the street corner for an hour and a half would be more entertaining than sitting through this hugely disappointing folly.

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The Matador
REVIEWED 01/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Burned out International assassin Julian Noble (Pierce Brosnan; 'Die Another Day' (2002), 'After the Sunset' (2004)) and unassuming Denver businessman Danny Wright (Greg Kinnear; 'As Good as It Gets' (1997), 'Bad News Bears' (2005)) galvanize an unlikely kinship born in a Mexico City hotel bar that changes both their lives in this absolutely incredible, slightly odd ball flick from writer/director Richard Shepard ('Oxygen' (1999)). Probably the first thing to acknowledge about 'The Matador' is that the ads and movie trailer completely miss the point, promoting this ninety-seven minute flick as a riotous comedic romp of bizarre goofiness. It's not, but it's still a great movie. Yes, Brosnan's performance does sometimes feel like a playfully irreverent parody of his big screen James Bond persona, but the role really seems more like a lighter retooling of his character from 'The Tailor of Panama' (2001) than a blatant satirical spin on the 007 franchise. The humour is mostly found in how their individual flaws affect a fairly straight forward story arc, that contains vague similarities to the comparably more over-the-top remake 'The In-Laws' (2003), as Kinnear's Wright hesitantly becomes swept up in Noble's unsavoury profession six months after their first encounter.

Sure, some of Noble's sexually perverse verbal metaphors and delirium induced shenanigans are pretty hilarious, but Shepard's screenplay wonderfully presents the small cast that also features Hope Davis ('American Splendor' (2003), 'Proof' (2005)) as being incredibly captivating for a paying audience to tap into throughout. Another aspect that should likely be mentioned is that if you can't stomach bull fighting, you'll probably have a tough time sitting through a major scene featured near the beginning here. It's handled extremely well within the context of what plays out, but the visuals are still fairly unflinching. It's actually one of my favourite moments, because of the way that what plays out in that arena is cut with Julian showing Danny what he does for a living. Their banter is pure genius, frankly. That's this movie's strength, deftly capturing the unmistakable natural chemistry that crackles between Brosnan and Kinnear. You can tell that they have a blast working together on this project, and it shows on the big screen with a rare believability that truly makes this effort a delightful treasure for mature moviegoers. It's an uncomplicated yet smart movie that's funny and intriguing, without becoming clichéd or locked in a quagmire of self-effacing silliness. Even the plot twist is more character based than what you're led to expect, cleverly solidifying your enthusiasm for these beautifully portrayed quirky men.

'The Matador' is definitely something that's well worth checking out for the incredible acting and thoroughly enjoyable dialogue, as well as for it being a whole lot better than your average popcorn flick. Good stuff.

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Match Point
REVIEWED 01/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
www.ofrb.gov.on.ca | www.rcq.gouv.qc.ca


REVIEW:

Wow. This wonderfully orchestrated romantic crime drama from writer/director Woody Allen is easily one the best serious movies from his long and arguably impressive career. Jonathan Rhys-Meyers ('Bend It Like Beckham' (2002), 'Vanity Fair' (2004)) stars as London-based tennis pro Chris Wilton, whose carnal obsession over struggling American actress Nola Rice (Scarlett Johansson; 'Lost in Translation' (2003), 'The Island' (2005)) slowly begins to threaten the upper class comforts that he's come to enjoy with his idle rich wife Chloe Hewett (Emily Mortimer; 'Scream 3' (2000), 'Dear Frankie' (2004)). 'Match Point' has all the makings of a purely satisfying, nuts and bolts motion picture. Great atmosphere, a phenomenal cast, and a truly captivating screenplay all seamlessly deliver at keeping a paying audience thoroughly intrigued until the hugely satisfying last scene. Admittedly, I was initially fairly skeptical after having endured slogging through the last couple of Allen's recent comedies, but this hundred and twenty-four minute screening is an absolute delight that's on par with any of the memorable silver screen classics from fifty or so years ago. Yes, some of the dialogue does ring a bit false at times, and Rhys-Meyers' character is a little too enigmatic as an Irish immigrant who never waivers from his slightly affected Proper English accent, but the story itself is masterfully presented over-all.

It's a joy to see when Allen's trademark stuttering sneaks into the dialogue, even though it's actually tough to keep in mind that it's this director who's at the helm. The film plays out more like a sexy, diabolical distant cousin of 'Hanna and Her Sisters' (1986) than what's probably expected by long time moviegoers and diehard fans. There aren't any scenes of slap stick or nutty quips tossed in, thankfully. The careful infusion of Operatic themes - supported by a soundtrack predominantly made up of recognizable arias - and a touch of Shakespeare definitely also add a richness to this enjoyable effort. 'Match Point' actually does feel like it's inspired by the work of one or two bygone composers or literary giants, deftly playing with the notion of luck and circumstance tested by lust and deception towards a gruesome conclusion. Awesome. The most notable surprise comes from finally seeing Johansson cast in a role that consistently challenges her, both intellectually and physically as an actor, resulting in a remarkably fresh spin on the theme of The Other Woman as depicted here. Mortimer's natural ease in front of cinematographer Remi Adefarasin's lens is absolutely disarming, once again demonstrating her enviable strengths as a superior character actor. Also keep an eye out for Adefarasin's beautifully lingering camera shots that flow with the dialogue, virtually uninterrupted by editing.

Absolutely do yourself a huge favour and check out this great piece of cinematic perfection that will undoubtedly leave you (momentarily) wondering why Woody Allen bothered with making comedies at all.

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Madea's Family Reunion
REVIEWED 02/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
www.ofrb.gov.on.ca | www.rcq.gouv.qc.ca


REVIEW:

Following through with a reported seven-picture deal after the phenomenally memorable sleeper hit 'Diary of Mad Black Woman' (2005), acclaimed playwright, screenwriter and star Tyler Perry adds director to his credentials with that movie's first sequel - adapted from his 2002 touring stage play shot direct-to-video - that revolves around the tumultuous adult relationships of the Brault Sisters. While Lisa Brault (Rochelle Aytes; 'White Chicks' (2004)) searches for a kind of permission to finally escape her violent wedding engagement to wealthy investment banker fiancé Carlos (Blair Underwood; 'Deep Impact' (1998), 'Full Frontal' (2002)) days before their elaborate wedding, while eldest Vanessa Brault (Lisa Arrindell Anderson; 'Clockers' (1995)) struggles with unspeakable emotional baggage during her hesitant courtship with local artist and bus driver Frankie (Boris Kodjoe; 'Brown Sugar' (2002)). If you loved the first one, you'll probably leave the theatre after seeing this one feeling just as entertained and blissfully satisfied. Yes, 'Madea's Family Reunion' does somewhat feel like a vague remake of 'Diary of a Mad Black Woman' at times, but that's really only because the basic premise of women reclaiming their inner strength against overwhelming odds - as well as the unabashedly Baptist Christian take on community, family and God's presence in daily life - are revisited here. Some are familiar themes, but this new story is fresh, insightful and wonderfully performed by this outstanding cast of primary and peripheral players throughout.

Aytes and Arrindell Anderson are both individually incredible here, effortlessly pulling you in to their heart wrenching tales to the point where a paying audience can't help but want to cheer on their characters towards them finding some tangible sense of closure and renewal. Awesome. Top marks should also go to Lynn Whitfield ('Doctor Detroit' (1983), 'Head of State' (2003)) for her portrayal of the Brault's selfishly manipulative mother Victoria. Of course, this wonderfully captivating hundred and seven-minute cinematic group hug wouldn't be complete without one of three of Perry's on screen roles, Mable "Madea" Simmons, noisily careening through some of those scenes like a hair triggered Tasmanian Devil that righteously smacks Old Testament discipline and old fashion common sense at anyone in her path. Madea's moments are definitely the funniest, despite them not being quite as irreverently show stopping as they were in the first big screen effort. The film does somewhat suffer from more camera time not being afforded this lovingly farcical force of nature. However, this feature isn't a comedy at its core. The most extraordinary aspects are found throughout the dramatic parts, with the decidedly sermon-like end to the actual family reunion beautifully instilling a strong sense of belonging and responsibility rarely seen in contemporary Hollywood films. It's a shame that 'Madea's Family Reunion' probably won't be to every moviegoer's liking because of the religious overtones or the brick bats it's taken over the screenplay's apparent double standards regarding various forms of physical abuse, but I'm actually glad that none of that stuff is watered down because it all lends a certain amount of truth about the human condition depicted here that - if absent - would likely leave this one seeming fairly shallow. My only real quibble is that a couple of loose ends are left dangling come the otherwise hugely feel good finale, that could have easily been tied up with one or two brief clips edited in. It's still well worth the price of admission, though.

Absolutely check out 'Madea's Family Reunion' for the great performances and a satisfying story that over-all wonderfully continues from the must-see 'Diary of a Mad Black Woman'.

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Metal: A Headbanger's Journey
REVIEWED 04/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
www.ofrb.gov.on.ca | www.rcq.gouv.qc.ca


REVIEW:

In the beginning - according to this documentary's on-screen consensus, and to its host, Victoria, BC native, former University Anthropology major and life long Metalhead Sam Dunn - Black Sabbath, the first full fledged heavy metal band that had risen from Hendrix, Deep Purple and Blue Cheer, begat the likes of Iron Maiden, Motörhead and Van Halen, which begat Punk and Glam Rock, which begat Thrash and Death Metal, and their notoriously darker sub-genre Norwegian Black Metal, and Dunn takes a paying audience on his decidedly personal pilgrimage to the homes of Sabbath visionaries Tony Iommi and Ronnie James Dio, into the four-day Wacken Open Air festival of headbanger heaven in Germany, and beyond. Quite frankly, this ninety-six minute flick barely does justice to the huge litany of genres and sub-genres that have been bashing around for decades, but co-writers/co-directors Dunn, Scot McFadyen and Jessica Joy Wise do manage to offer a thoroughly enjoyable and oftentimes fascinating primer into this misunderstood musical culture. Much is left out or only briefly touched upon, but the strength of 'Metal: A Headbanger's Journey' primarily comes from Dunn's almost contagious enthusiasm while attempting to apply this cinematic travelogue of interviews and observations to an arguably truncated flow chart of notable bands.

It's not so much that you really learn a whole lot about Heavy Metal music through this movie, but that you're given a certain amount of insight and access to some of the people who are willing to sit down in front of the camera and share their own opinions. For instance, when Iommi and Rush's Geddy Lee cite early influences, or when Twisted Sister's Dee Snider ('Private Parts' (1997), 'Deepwater' (2005)) talks about him "carrying the flag into battle" against American censorship led by Tipper Gore and the Parents Music Resource Center in the mid-Eighties, or when Lemmy ('Eat the Rich' (1987), 'Citizen Toxie: The Toxic Avenger IV' (2000)) of Motörhead fame casually jokes about the girl bands giving the guys a run for their money, you're allowed to spend time with these artists without all of the gear and pyrotechnics. Some of the most wonderfully outrageous quips come from Alice Cooper ('Prince of Darkness' (1987), 'Wayne's World' (1992)), who at one point scoffs at the music's links to Satanism with, "This is Hallowe'en". It's also funny reminiscing with Mötley Crüe's Vince Neil ('The Adventures of Ford Fairlane' (1990)) and Snider about Metal's days of mascara and frilly outfits. However, where 'Metal: A Headbanger's Journey' fails its subject matter is in carefully telling a true anthropological history in chronological order that can clearly be followed. That's where Dunn's apparent enthusiasm over actually meeting some of his idols sidelines much of the clinical research that's sorely needed here. Covering its Mediaeval and Baroque roots is impressive, but the overly used animated flow chart was made virtually useless by it featuring the band logos that became increasingly illegible as focus shifted to a couple of the fringe sub-genres. If you don't know them, you still won't. Sure, it's a great romp that's nicely punctuated with comments by various experts both outside and in the business, but even Dunn seems to be little more than an outsider relying on skimmed reference material whenever he steps beyond what few groups he's grown up admiring. It's a good start that simply could have benefited from a more structured and slightly less self-indulgent approach - and, at least another hour of footage.

Definitely check it out for the interviews and laughs along the way if you're either a fan or in any way curious, but there are a lot of gaps, really just making this one a cinematic accommodation to a diehard's infatuation with specific bands.

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Mission: Impossible 3
REVIEWED 05/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
www.ofrb.gov.on.ca | www.rcq.gouv.qc.ca


REVIEW:

Pulled back into the field of intrigue and espionage when his best student Lindsey Ferris (Keri Russell) disappears during a Berlin mission to track notoriously shadowy and dangerous arms trader Owen Davian (Philip Seymour Hoffman), Ethan Hunt (Tom Cruise) and his small team - Luther Strickell (Ving Rhames), Declan (Jonathan Rhys Meyers) and Zhen (Maggie Q) - soon capture and then fall victim to Davian's determined interest in securing a fairly plot unimportant biohazardous weapon nicknamed "The Rabbit's Foot", racing against time through Vatican City and Singapore before Hunt's kidnapped new bride Julia is murdered, is the basic premise of this rather intensely silly second big screen sequel from actor turned co-writer/director J.J. Abrams ('Star Trek XI' (2008)) that's inspired by the famous small screen spy thriller series, 'Mission: Impossible' (1966-1973). I honestly wanted to enjoy this flick. And, for the most part, it's definitely jam packed with high velocity action from ear to ear. Unfortunately, 'Mission: Impossible 3' doesn't have a whole lot going on between those metaphorical ears.

Unlike the first 'Mission: Impossible' (1996), where the overly convoluted action sequences that rattled across your face were somewhat nicely counter balanced with an intriguing enough, albeit tough to follow story, this one desperately attempts to be all about impressing a paying audience with how juiced up each relatively mundane scene can be made to look. All without really letting you in on why these human finger puppets are doing what they're doing. Example: Hunt drags Ferris through a gauntlet of trigger happy baddies, onto an awaiting truck and into a helicopter, where he discovers - using a scanner that can pick out microscopic detail with photographic clarity - that this rescued operative has a pellet-sized explosive lodged in her skull, and he then proceeds to fire up the inboard defibrillator. Why? Well, it doesn't matter. Eat your popcorn while it's still warm. Besides, the bad guy helicopter is busy launching missiles at them while they careen airborne through a field of windmills, so of course a defibrillator is the first thing to grab for. How does he know that using this convenient piece of suspiciously available medical equipment will stop that brain bomb from blowing up in time? There's no mini timer on it, so how do they know how much time is left? Are these handy tid bits of information about pellet sized bombs used by nasty arms traders mentioned somewhere in the defibrillator user manual? Cool. Well, no, it's not cool. And, why doesn't their helicopter fly over the windmills, instead of through them? I guess maybe they got a deal on one that only flies at really low altitudes at night, and only in the direction of large rotating blades. There are several moments like that one, where a paying audience is left torn between foolishly trying to apply basic logic to what's motivating the actions of these adrenaline junkie characters, and simply relenting to the noisy ruckus by switching off above the neck and waiting for when something gets explained. It's rarely explained. It's unlikely the greatest minds on the planet could explain some of the stuff that goes on here. This is a great cast of talent, but very little of their otherwise proven acting abilities are even remotely tapped into for this relentlessly mindless, live action comic book. Yeesh!

Wait a couple of minutes, and you really won't miss much by seeing it in parts on television during the commercial breaks that interrupt the show that you're actually following.

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Monster House
REVIEWED 07/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

On the day before Hallowe'en, stranger things than usual begin to happen to anything that gets too close to mean old Mr. Nebbercracker's (voiced by Steve Buscemi; 'Fargo' (1996), 'The Island' (2005)) spooky weather beaten three storey home that's hunched directly across the tree lined suburban street from nine year-old DJ's (big screen first timer Mitchel Musso) bedroom window, in this fresh and visually astounding animated family feature from debuting director Gil Kenan, where the sudden absence of Nebbercracker unleashes the full insatiable wrath of his seemingly living, scheming ramshackle "domus mactibilus", and DJ enlists the help of school mate Chowder (Sam Lerner; 'Envy' (2004)) and their new friend Jenny (Spencer Locke; 'Resident Evil: Extinction' (2007)) in an attempt to stop it before an expected horde of young Trick or Treaters unwittingly step onto that creaky wooden porch to be eaten alive by the monster house. Wow. This ninety-one minute, PG-rated movie is such an incredible joy to sit through, primarily because of the consistently high quality work by the digital wizards at Sony Imageworks. Everything feels richly textured and virtually three dimensional throughout, to the point where it's tough to keep in mind that 'Monster House' has been completely created inside computers, reportedly using the process of motion capture recently seen in 'The Polar Express' (2004). This one looks a hundred times better, though. The characters are equally impressive and seamlessly fluid, even though the general appearance of the main kid DJ does vaguely resemble that of the stop motion animated little boy from 'James and the Giant Peach' (1996) at times. However, looking beyond the oftentimes eye-popping artwork, co-writers Dan Harmon, Rob Schrab and Pamela Pettler's quick humoured screenplay is crisp and playful while deftly managing to take a paying audience on a truly inspired, rollicking new adventure that revolves around this cantankerous haunted house that conceals a forty-five year-old secret delicately revealed during the course of this screening. Awesome.

Sure, there are a couple of slightly weird oversights, such as the story not referring to what's happened in past Hallowe'ens so that you can understand why this otherwise normal neighbourhood doesn't automatically shun that specific address year 'round. You eventually learn that Nebbercracker's house has existed longer than the suburb that's grown up around it and yet there's no pervasive urban legend chilling that community, only a grisly rumour half-cited by the delinquent boyfriend of DJ's teenaged babysitter. It's also a little peculiar that there aren't any peripheral witnesses to the raucous mayhem that loudly rumbles across the big screen later on - as though this is the only place in the world that doesn't have a nosy neighbour peeking from behind lace curtains at everyone else's business. Of course, those are minor details, while 'Monster House' successfully focuses on the primary story of these three precocious children fearfully investigating the architectural horror that's looming, growling and transforming into an extremely scary, obviously angry beast. It's a family flick at heart, that's wonderfully detailed with effects for its clearly intended audience of young people, though. You're still basically watching an intellectually undemanding cartoon that saves the day with dynamite. The two glaring aspects about this film that I will suggest be possibly taken into consideration by slightly more sensitive moviegoers are that some of the action sequences are likely far too intense for little toddlers, and that there are potentially repugnant flashback scenes involving a morbidly obese woman kept in a circus cage that seem more like fodder for unnecessarily mean spirited cheap laughs than much else. I'm still notably impressed with the final cut afterwards, and was thoroughly entertained by it from the beginning to closing credits.

Absolutely do yourself a big favour and check out this incredibly captivating wonder of animation genius on the big screen - especially if it's playing in IMAX theatres - for its stunning visuals, childish hijinx, and for a predominantly fun and clever roller coaster ride of eerie adventure.

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My Super Ex-Girlfriend
REVIEWED 07/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

At first, their passion seemed more powerful than a locomotive and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, but when Manhattan architectural consultant Matt Saunders (Luke Wilson; 'Old School' (2003), 'The Family Stone' (2005)) couldn't take any more of his new girlfriend Jenny Johnson's (Uma Thurman; 'Pulp Fiction' (1994), 'The Producers' (2005)) intense insecurities - despite her alter ego as a somewhat mousy, mild mannered art gallery attendant hiding her true identity as that city's mighty superhero G-Girl - and he tried to end their short relationship faster than a speeding bullet, Jenny naturally uses her powers to torment and destroy Saunders in this surprisingly uninspired comedy chick flick from director Ivan Reitman ('Ghost Busters' (1984), 'Evolution' (2001)), where the evil genius Professor Bedlam's (Eddie Izzard; 'Shadow of the Vampire' (2000), 'Ocean's Twelve' (2004)) nefarious schemes include enlisting Matt's help in - mwah ha ha - neutralizing G-Girl's super human abilities forever.

Okay, it's fairly obvious that the only reason why this ninety-five minute, career chilling slab of cinematic gorgonzola exists is so that a few studio executives can cash in on the recent hype of 'Superman Returns' (2006). It's any wonder why they didn't also make the arch villian a Caribbean pirate. I'd like to think that this screening might also help spark serious interest in reviving work on the intended sequels of 'Supergirl' (1984), but I suppose that will more likely depend on how well next year's 'Wonder Woman' does at the box office. 'My Super Ex-Girlfriend' is dreadful. I'd rather write about Wonder Woman than review this movie, frankly. Sure, it's supposed to be an outrageously campy romp that probably magnifies the secret pernicious wishes of a few people who have experienced being summarily dumped. G-Girl flinging a live shark at Matt in a jealous rage, and launching his car into orbit are two notable examples featured in this otherwise forgettable effort. Don't get me wrong. Fresh ideas and the potential for hugely funny moments are there, and Thurman and Wilson obviously have a blast playing their roles. However, the overwhelming problem is that this picture is too much of a substanceless spoof inhabited by completely uninteresting caricatures, who relentlessly pull silly faces while wildly affecting their lines like they're performing in a Pantomime. It heavily relies on you instantly liking these characters solely based on the screen presence of its cast. The jokes feel forced and lame, over-all. On top of that, writer Don Payne's numbing screenplay plays out like a dirty minded rip-off of the Superman franchise, essentially punctuating its satire of the Lois and Clark affair seen in 'Superman II' (1981) with silly sophomoric pranks, ultimately presenting a fallen meteor of unknown origin and dubious strength as Bedlam's secret weapon against G-Girl. Gee, that's original. At least they didn't shave Izzard's head for his utterly pedantic Lex Luthor-like role as Jenny's shunned former high school friend who becomes her lifelong nemesis because he still loves her so much. Yawn. Rainn Wilson ('House of 1000 Corpses' (2003), 'Sahara' (2005)) pretty well lends the only tangibly lasting light hearted relief, playing Saunders' sleazy womanizing co-worker and buddy Vaughn Haige. It would be easy to suggest that this dull mess is as disappointing as 'Catwoman' (2004) and 'Aeon Flux' (2005) are, because Hollywood once again fails to exploit a ready made opportunity to raise the bar for female heroes, but 'My Super Ex-Girlfriend' isn't the same kind of movie and consciously pokes fun at the entire genre from the beginning to closing credits. Sadly, it's simply a bad movie because it isn't particularly funny or well made, and the ending that throws Matt's other friend Hannah Lewis (Anna Faris; 'Scary Movie' (2000), 'Just Friends' (2005)) deeper into the fray as more fuel for Jenny's fiery rampage is incredibly cheesy and amateurish.

It could be that this turkey is really only intended for the superficial enjoyment of young girls who are old enough to buy a ticket and see Wilson's bare tushy, but I suspect that the majority of that audience would still find this one to be overtly patronizing and agonizingly mediocre at best.

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

Officially dishonourably discharged after ignoring orders and freeing his buddies from being beheaded by Al-Qaeda soldiers during the Iraqi War, veteran Marine Sergeant John Triton (debuting WWE wrestler Jonathan Felix Anthony Cena) and his South Carolina homemaker wife Kate (Kelly Carlson; 'Paparazzi' (2004)) are brutally torn from each other during their day trip to the mountains when murderous diamond thieves led by Rome (Robert Patrick; 'Terminator 2: Judgment Day' (1991), 'Walk the Line' (2005)) grab Kate as a hostage and leave John for dead at a razed country gas station, in this numbingly pedantic live action cartoon from debuting feature director John Bonito where a whole lotta bayou gets blowed up real good, with John surviving fire and bullets as he mysteriously tracks that rag tag crew of malicious evildoers through the swamps in order to save Kate and mete out vengeful justice against anyone with tattoos, wielding a gun or wearing black.

Well, that would have been a nice nap if I had brought ear plugs. This stinker is so utterly unimaginative and ridiculous from beginning to closing credits, that the only way 'The Marine' could even remotely be enjoyed would be if it had originally been a series of pyrotechnic cliff hangers like the ones that used to be screened before the headlining flick, well over half a Century ago. Sure, I'm desperately grasping at smoke to be kind here, but this noisy ninety-three minute slab of festering gorgonzola actually is fairly reminiscent of the old 'Captain America' and 'Buck Rogers' Silver Screen serials, aggravatingly stitched together as a contemporary and expletive laced feature film. However, it's not particularly good. Writers Michelle Gallagher and Alan B. McElroy seem more inspired by the likes of rather hammy Eighties action movies starring Steven Seagal and Arnold Schwarzenegger with this mess, simply allowing the hugely overwhelming special effects to easily distract a paying audience from the fact that none from this cast seem to care about what happens. Even Patrick looks like he's just there to collect a pay cheque while goofing around on his laurels in front of the camera until another real acting job comes along. All of these characters are painfully flat caricatures, failing to give you any reason to care about them while Bonito shuffles them around like a bunch of human finger puppets in a minefield of exploding cars. Cena definitely looks great, but all he ends up doing for the most part is leap around and sniff the air for bad guys to punch. At one point, after it's already been established that he's an excellent military tracker who is now following the muddy trail of Carlson's captors, he looks around and into the sky - I guess hunting for big red flashing arrow signs to point him in the right direction - for further evidence of their whereabouts, before chucking his hulking mass head long through the woods again. There's a lot of running in this movie. It's boring. There's a lot of bad dialogue here as well, quickly leading you to the undeniable conclusion that these aren't very smart people - even though some of them have managed to successfully steal twelve million dollars worth of cut diamonds in broad daylight, in a sophisticated plan that's merely alluded to. Most of what transpires feels like vapid filler. Unfortunately, the rest of it is outrageously empty as well. Triton later evades another of several fiery crashes in this world where buildings seem to be made of glass and dynamite, with plumes of fire erupting around him as he fights for his life against various nasty weapons, and still manages to rip his wife from a sunken semi truck as though he'd merely finished a few squats at the gym. 'The Marine' truly is the type of story that bored little boys probably conjure up while their minds wander. It's just unfortunate that this picture clearly isn't intended for children, quickly leading you to a second undeniable conclusion that you're not supposed to be very smart either. When the action calms down, lame jokes are relied on, instead of anyone bothering to cobble together interesting story elements.

Quite frankly, the only entertaining aspect is the heavy use of gunplay and explosions. As far as everything else goes, well, I'd be pretty insulted by this irreparably dumb and forgettably disappointing film if I was a U.S. Marine. Blast nuts and cheese aficionados might enjoy this one, but 'The Marine' really isn't worth the stock it's filmed on.

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Man of the Year
REVIEWED 10/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

When popular Chicago-based prime time television news satirist Tom Dobbs' (Robin Williams; 'Popeye' (1980), 'Robots' (2005)) off-the-cuff joke about him possibly running for President of the United States of America sees him actually becoming a serious independent candidate opposite the Democratic incumbent during election year, little does Tom or his Show Biz savvy manager Jack Menkin (Christopher Walken; 'The Deer Hunter' (1978), 'Domino' (2005)) realize that there's more than a growing grassroots fan base working to vote him onto the Oval Office, in this mildly enjoyable dramatic comedy from writer/director Barry Levinson ('Good Morning, Vietnam' (1987), 'Envy' (2004)) that feels like an inspired nod to Emmy-winning bygone political jester Pat Paulsen's (1927-1997) seemingly never-ending bid for the U.S. Presidency that began on 'The Smothers Brothers' Comedy Hour' TV show in 1968, where Delacroy software giant's disillusioned project supervisor Eleanor Green (Laura Linney; 'The Truman Show' (1998), 'The Exorcism of Emily Rose' (2005)) slowly suspects a previously flagged glitch in their newly released computerized electoral voting system that has replaced the nation's manual vote tallying process is the real reason for Dobbs inevitable landslide win.

This is the worst Irish American gangster movie I've ever seen in my life! Just kidding. Admittedly, I went in having high hopes that were primarily based on this political satire's impressive cast. All of these actors pull in good performances throughout, with Linney once again shining through as one of Hollywood's criminally over looked treasures who can effortlessly switch gears from light comedy to indepth drama in a heartbeat. It's probably already boring to hear Oscar buzz bandied around, but her wonderfully diverse portrayal is definitely a contender. Awesome. Williams and Walken also do a fairly good job with their roles, easily giving a paying audience reasons to care about what happens to their characters as the story clicks along. However, 'Man of the Year' isn't as wryly satirical or irreverently funny as it could have been. It's really more a drama along the lines of 'The Candidate' (1972) or 'The American President' (1995) - as opposed to the memorably antic filled 'Head of State' (2003) - with lightly tempered humourous patches intermittently spun into the mix. Frankly, Lewis Black ('Jacob's Ladder (1990), 'Accepted' (2006)) has more laughs playing Dobbs' quirky head writer Eddie Langston than Williams does, particular because Levinson's screenplay has Dobbs essentially playing his race to the finals as a straight man passionately articulating the real issues of his initially somewhat dull electoral platform. Sure, it works within the context of the story's somewhat believable over-all scheme, but that tact also leaves you feeling as though the advertising for this hundred and fifteen-minute picture as being a riotous comedic romp to the White House is little more than a sneaky seat filling ploy that barely delivers the goods. He's briefly let loose twice, but a lot of that seems like familiar turf lazily revisited. Granted, it's a better movie than if you were forced to sit through two hours of Williams' whimsically manic stream of tomfoolery overwhelming a pretty good story line that's extremely well supported by Linney and Walken, as well as Jeff Goldblum as Delacroy's conniving legal advisor, but Williams' starring contribution here has a gnawing sense of awkward duality. It doesn't overtly hurt this film, but his serious scenes aren't on par with his past dramatic efforts, and the soft laconic punch lines throughout go against the grain of his previous big screen funny stuff. Almost as though possibly miscast in what might have been intended as a Tim Allen vehicle, but more likely simply poorly written for.

Check it out as a second or third choice rental if you're hoping for irreverent laughs, but definitely make 'Man of the Year' your top pick if you want and enjoyably humourous drama that's strongly backed up by Laura Linney's astounding performance.

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Marie Antoinette
REVIEWED 10/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Plucked from her sheltered girlish life and bundled by horse drawn carriage to an awaiting entourage at the Austrian border, naive teenager Maria Antonia Josefa Johanna von Habsburg-Lothringen's (Kirsten Dunst; 'Jumanji' (1995), 'Elizabethtown' (2005)) first shock as equally young French Prince Louis' (Jason Schwartzman; 'I Heart Huckabees' (2004), 'Slackers' (2002)) politically arranged and unseen fiancée is the loss of everything from her homeland - including her entire wardrobe, her favourite puppy, and her name - before entering France, briefly meeting her rather awkward betrothed, and immediately being wed to him, in writer/director Sofia Coppola's ('The Virgin Suicides' (1999), 'Lost in Translation' (2003)) visually stunning yet coma inducing feature based on Antonia Fraser's 2001 novel Marie Antoinette: The Journey, where Marie-Antoinette soon endures endless humiliating gossip within her new home at Versailles and consistently shaming letters sent from her overbearing mother in Austria, all resulting from the new royal couple's troubling inability to consummate their already grim marriage.

Well, it's fairly obvious early on that what Coppola was attempting to do with this rambling hundred and twenty-three minute cinematic experiment was more along the lines of artfully depicting the personal details of these characters, rather than present a Period piece heavily steeped in historical events. Apart from the fact that the real Marie-Antoinette (1755-1793) was the daughter of the Holy Roman Emperor Francis I of Austria, Dunst's role could be that of any aristocratic family's fourteen year-old waif from that era as present here. This seems intentional, as though Coppola's screenplay wants to avoid allowing a whole lot of unimportant facts to get in the way making these newlyweds seem like ordinary kids affected by their extraordinary circumstances. It's contemporary in that regard, complete with instances where it has fun with a distinctly modern soundtrack that works quite well, yet this effort is still deeply situated in a version of the past that drips with gilded tapestries and luxuriously poofy gowns. Imagine what every little girl's Princess Fantasy would be, and it's probably captured here. This one definitely benefits from it being shot on location at the Palace at Versailles, and cinematographer Lance Acord clearly has a blast filling up the screen with eye popping scenery inside and surrounding that absolutely gorgeous landmark. Unfortunately, the overwhelming problem is that there's not much else beyond the eye candy. Sure, Dunst and Schwartzman each try to cobble captivating personality from the ether (it's sure not evident in the script), but their performances aren't strong enough to fill the void that's left by the sheer lack of context paired with Coppola's weird insistence in ignoring biographical substance. What transpires in the final cut ultimately paralyzes a paying audience's interest in following along with the story itself. 'Marie Antoinette' ends up feeling rather amateurish in its structure, as a result of editor Sarah Flack apparently needing to reinvent the French New Wave style of film making from half a Century ago, crazily lopping out vast portions of linear time for no understandable reason - except perhaps as an inside joke relating to guillotines and Godard.

Back in the real world that wannabe auteurs seem to forget about, King Louis XVI (1754-1793) and his Queen were married for seven years before their first child was born - reportedly due to a medical condition of Louis' that was eventually treated - and they lived well into their late thirties before being arrested and publicly executed by starving angry mobs during the French Revolution, yet this film gives the impression that what transpires throughout their life together happened while they were still teenagers. Granted, I know so much about France's history that I hoped this flaky meandering feature would pick up momentum once Napoleon Bonaparte finally appeared (until I realized that I had Marie-Antoinette mixed up with Josephine, and grimaced at my wrist watch again), but sitting through this one does make you suspect that it desperately needs all of the historical moments to simply hold it together - along with the full length script that seems to have been lost in, uh, transit - while these crazy mixed up kids aimlessly mope around in their powdered wigs and fancy costumes. Frankly, I want to see the real film that all of these quilted together out takes were recycled from, but suggesting that such a motion picture exists or that Coppola is attached to it seems unduly kind.

'Marie Antoinette' definitely makes great use of the locations, but the movie itself is so utterly disjointed and superficial that even the gorgeous scenery can't save it.

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