|
 ARMAGEDDON. Sorry to give it away, but the world doesn't
end in Armageddon. Instead, it's saved from a menacing
asteroid by a wild bunch of oil drillers who have the good old
American know-how it takes to drill a big hole in space rock so
they can put some nuclear weapons in there. The special effects
in this flick are great; everything blows up all the time, and
it's also very loud. (This is what $140 million looks like, friends.)
Other than that, Armageddon doesn't have a plot so much
as it has a series of chains that attach to the audience, then
jerk them. Director Michael Bay seems to be approaching Alfred
Hitchcock's dream of manipulating the audiences' reactions at
every moment, and it's hard not to resent this, at least once
the movie is over. But while it's going on, it's actually sort
of fun to be jerked. --Richter
DÉJÀ VU. Director Henry Jaglom skates down
the border between profundity and hokum in this exploration of
true love versus compromise. Stephen Dillane and Victoria Foyt
(Jaglom's watery-eyed, appealingly emotive wife, who co-wrote
the screenplay with him) star as a Brit and a Los Angelean who
seem to be natural soulmates, cosmically fated to be together,
and all that jazz. Too bad they're already entrenched in long-term
relationships. Though Jaglom's loose, cinema-verité style
is very much in evidence, he tries hard to make every step of
the romance follow a logical, understandable progression, which
gets to be a problem--he keeps using a nail gun on the kinds of
details where a thumbtack would suffice. (At a key point, Dillane
and Foyt actually exclaim to each other, "You're married!,"
"You have a fiancée!," "You're married!,"
"You have a fiancee!," revealing an embarrassingly wide
rift between cinema-verité and realism.) Then there's the
mystical "surprise" ending, which plays like an episode
of The Twilight Zone, as directed by Fabio. Jaglom may
be an old friend of Orson Welles (in fact, Déjà
Vu appears to be based on a memorable line of dialogue from
Citizen Kane), but an auteur he's not. On the plus side,
it's refreshing how the two jilted characters are rendered so
sympathetically (unlike in Sleepless in Seattle and similar
films), and the charmingly well-aged Vanessa Redgrave livens up
her every scene as a veteran free spirit. --Woodruff
JANE AUSTEN'S MAFIA! This latest venture from writer/director
Jim Abrahams, one of those responsible for bringing us Airplane!
(1980) and The Naked Gun (1988), fails to achieve the level
of satire present in these past successes. This film probably
makes sense if you're 9 years old, when the mere presence of bodily
functions and breasts actually provided some kind of cultural
commentary. Otherwise, Mafia! is but a lame parody consisting
largely of uncritical references to Casino, Showgirls,
and Forrest Gump, among others. A plot was difficult to
discern through the dizzying haze of flatulence, but it seemed
to follow a father (the late Lloyd Bridges) and son (Jay Mohr)
through their involvement with the mob, boobies, and pull-my-finger
jokes. The ending is surprisingly abrupt, but certainly the alternative
(a second puke montage?) is far worse.--Higgins
LETHAL WEAPON 4. The idealized masculinity initially presented
in the first Lethal Weapon is finally called into question
in the fourth installment in the series. This makes for an overall
engaging action film, especially as the genre tends most often
to present clichéd, unsympathetic, hypermasculine fighting
machines. The former polarization of the nihilistic Martin Riggs
(Mel Gibson) and Roger Murtaugh (Danny Glover) collapses into
the middle, resulting in numerous references to the aging bodies
of the characters (and, by extension, the actors) and their inability
to live up to former expectations of themselves. This reconfiguration
of masculinity is perhaps an attempt to update a series which
began over a decade ago, though it still offers a rather narrow
definition of manhood. The story itself is standard cop-chase-villain
fare, largely an excuse to showcase the fine-tuned banter of Riggs
and Murtaugh. Rene Russo and Joe Pesci return in supporting roles;
and though the addition of Chris Rock is an obvious attempt to
attract younger viewers, he's nevertheless enjoyable as Murtaugh's
son-in-law. The generic convention of foreign adversaries is forced
and outright offensive at times, as the jokes often poke fun at
the ethnicity of the Chinese bad guys (to wit, the tired "flied
lice" dig). Though we can expect to find such stereotypes
in other incarnations of the genre, it appears that this film
closes the book on the series as the lethal weapon of the title,
Riggs, concludes his inner struggle by becoming a family man.
--Higgins
THE OPPOSITE OF SEX. Forget about wholesome sincerity in
writer/director Don Roos' tale of unrequited love among gays and
schoolteachers. Sarcastic self-cancellation rules, as the story's
narrator, Christina Ricci, sourly criticizes all the storytelling
conventions that come with the depressing territory. The result
is a funny, energetic movie with a severe case of multiple-personality
disorder. The travails of the spurned Martin Donovan form a fast-moving
but not terribly compelling plot that provides Roos plenty of
material for the bitchy Ricci (a manipulative catalyst throughout
the story) to verbally trample. The movie's inability to keep
its heart in one place might become annoying if it weren't for
Roos' great lines of dialogue, most of which he gives to Lisa
Kudrow, playing Donovan's cynical best friend. Kudrow's gift for
sharp comic delivery ensures that the picture remains the opposite
of dull throughout. --Woodruff
OUT OF SIGHT. In the hierarchy of adaptations based on
Elmore Leonard books, this one ranks up there with Get Shorty.
The direction (by Steven Soderbergh, of Sex, Lies and Videotape
fame) expresses the Leonard style perfectly, nudging humor out
of naturalistic dialogue and displaying a whimsically carefree
attitude about matters of life and death without letting all the
steam out of the story. George Clooney, as a bank robber, and
Jennifer Lopez, as his police pursuer, make an extremely good-looking
couple; and their two verbal tennis matches (one in a car's trunk,
the other in a hotel) are the film's sexual-spark-filled highlights.
The smoothly developing romantic mood begins in sunny Miami and
ends in snowy nighttime Detroit, so even if you see Out of Sight
during the middle of the day you might walk out expecting a cool,
dark sky. A standout supporting cast includes Albert Brooks, Catherine
Keener, Ving Rhames, Get Shorty alumnus Dennis Farina,
and a couple of uncredited surprises. --Woodruff
SAVING PRIVATE RYAN. Don't let the earnest, tony previews
fool you: This is a terrifying and brutally violent movie. Most
horror movies don't have a fraction of the gore, and anyone who
takes children needs to have his head examined. Naturally, since
this is Steven Spielberg in Oscar mode, it's gore with a higher
purpose: to render the you-are-there reality of World War II,
a historical turning point that most of us do indeed take for
granted. That it does. The plot follows the reluctant efforts
of a captain (Tom Hanks, doing a respectable job although I still
have a hard time taking him seriously) and his small crew (played
by a who's-who list of indy-film actors) to find a young soldier
for P.R. purposes. It's an unlikely premise, but it allows for
a tour through several common locations and situations during
the 1944 campaign to liberate France. The opening scene, which
depicts the troublesome Omaha Beach landing during the invasion
of Normandy, is a stunner: sharp editing, swift hand-held shots,
and gruesome attention to detail make it one of the most arresting
war scenes ever filmed. Over and over, Spielberg dumps the shock
and fear of death in your lap. The movie's furious "war is
hell" action lets up for occasional character development
and ambiguous incidents, which only make the returns to mayhem
that much rougher. Saving Private Ryan's primary fault
is that it's so much more jarring than it is moving; the film
comes considerably closer to experience than to dramatic art.
For some, this imbalance will probably be too much. If you have
no desire to understand how it might actually feel to be in combat,
you're advised to skip it. --Woodruff
SMALL SOLDIERS. Director Joe Dante and a team of five writers
have given the Child's Play concept a military spin: Now
instead of an evil spirit inside a plastic moppet, a super-destructive
munitions chip has been mistakenly installed in the latest line
of military action figures. The result is a bunch of wisecracking,
pop-culture-quoting commandos who proceed to tear up part of a
suburban neighborhood. Their mission: to destroy a similarly intelligent
set of pacifist dolls, the leader of whose whiskered face literally
implies "underdog." The movie contains loads of talent,
including the late Phil Hartman and vocalizations by the primary
leads from both The Dirty Dozen and This Is Spinal Tap.
Copious special effects blend seamlessly with the live action,
and the ideas are overflowing--the creators have even thrown in
the kitchen sink (complete with garbage disposal). But unlike
Dante's similar Gremlins movies, the anarchy becomes too
chaotic for its own good. The satiric sensibility has no focus,
and the human characters have less personality than the dolls.
Though there are clever minds behind the screenplay, the hypocrisy
is overwhelming: a mind-numbingly violent criticism of military
figures? Which, by the way, are for sale at your local toy store?
Talk about self-contradiction. Twelve-year-old boys will love
it; everyone else can expect a headache. --Woodruff
SMOKE SIGNALS. A modest film that nonetheless tackles big
themes, Smoke Signals is a quirky, inventive road movie
that bills itself as the first feature film written and directed
by Native Americans. It's the story of two friends, Victor (Adam
Beach) and Thomas (Evan Adams), who live on the Coeur d'Alene
Indian Reservation and have known each other all their lives.
When Victor's father dies, the boys take to the highway to go
collect his ashes (in Phoenix, which is a little hamlet in the
middle of the desert in this movie), and end up finding out something
about themselves. The plot is familiar, but the inventive script
by poet Sherman Alexie raises it above the standard boy-into-man
story; there are even occasional flashes of beauty. --Richter
THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT MARY. The brothers Farrelly, known
for their gross but weirdly compelling comedies (Dumb and Dumber;
Kingpin) have tried to show a little taste in their latest
romantic comedy. The result is cute and evokes the occasional
giggle, but this movie just isn't as funny as their previous ventures.
Cameron Diaz plays Mary, an all-around nice girl who somehow attracts
more than her fair share of psychos. Ben Stiller plays Ted, the
modest nice guy who's been in love with her since high school,
when he once walked her home. Matt Dillon, Lee Evans, and Chris
Elliott are among her numerous lovers/tormentors. Adorable musical
interludes from Jonathan Richman help give this movie pep, but
how funny is it really to watch a woman being stalked? --Richter
|
 |
