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 THE AVENGERS. I was only 7 years old the last time I saw
The Avengers TV series, but I don't remember it sucking
in quite this fashion. The most striking thing about this super-spy
story is that there's nothing striking about it--it has absolutely
no salient characteristics. From the initial meeting of secret
agents John Steed (Ralph Fiennes) and Mrs. Emma Peel (Uma Thurman,
in a double role), through their encounters with super-villian
Sean Connery, through Connery's attempts to control the world
by controlling the weather, up to the final confrontation, every
moment has exactly the same sense of force. It's like listening
to a metronome while watching special effects: There's no more
excitement or suspense in the explosions than in the expository
dialogue. I can't say whether this movie was bad or good; it was
so consistently the same, and so full of distracting if unorginal
visuals, and slack but not painful dialogue, that seeing it was
like having no experience whatsoever. After its mercifully brief
90 minutes were over, I almost completely forgot what it was about.
--DiGiovanna
EVER AFTER: A CINDERELLA STORY. Here's a welcome revision:
a Cinderella that kicks butt. Sure, Drew Barrymore's character
is neglected and mistreated, but she's no helpless little waif:
In a pinch, she won't hesitate to deck her wicked stepsister (Megan
Dodds) or throw the prince (Dougray Scott) over her shoulders
and carry him away from danger. These sorts of touches, smartly
handled by director Andy Tennant, make Ever After a delight--even
for those of us who never thought we could thoroughly enjoy a
Cinderella movie. I'm not sure how Tennant got it out of her,
but Barrymore's performance is winningly effective, and surprisingly
well-rounded. A political idealist with passion to spare, she
earns the prince's respect until he realizes he needs to earn
hers in return. Better still is Anjelica Huston, who plays the
bitchy stepmother with a trace of complexity--you get the sense
she's evil because it hurts to be nice, and you keep watching
her face for signs of pain. Everything else about the movie turns
out a shade more entertainingly than you'd expect, from the fate
of the chubby stepsister (played by Heavenly Creatures' Kate
Lansbury) to the whimsical way Leonardo Da Vinci is integrated
into the story. Rock on, Cinderella. --Woodruff
HOW STELLA GOT HER GROOVE BACK. Stella (Angela Bassett)
may have gotten her groove back, but in the process she took mine
away. After two hours and 20 minutes of ridiculous dialogue and
clichéd situations, the only boogying I wanted to do was
out to my car and far, far away from Whoopi Goldberg commenting
on the Jamaican surf by saying "God is here," and six-figure
Stella moaning about her mortgage amidst numerous Tommy Hilfiger
product placements. This is a made-for-TV movie on the big screen,
with the choppy editing and poor lighting to prove it. The semi-autobiographical
story by Terry McMillan (Waiting to Exhale) is about 40-year-old
Stella, who goes to Jamaica and enlists 20-year-old Winston (Taye
Diggs) to pull her out of a sexual, emotional and creative dry
spell. The majority of the film attempts to convince us that the
two are in love, but Stella is so neurotic and Winston so accommodating
that the requisite coupling at the end elicits screams rather
than tears. --Higgins
THE MASK OF ZORRO. An action-adventure movie in the classic
mold, The Mask of Zorro aims for the kind of grand, sweeping
cinematics that lead to elaborate sword fights, robust dance scenes
and 100-percent computer-enhancement-free stuntwork. It's meant
to be an old-fashioned crowd pleaser, and it succeeds in a generic,
unchallenging way. If you're looking for nuance or extra bite,
sorry, wrong movie. Antonio Banderas, a man so sexy that even
Southern Baptist truck drivers with extra Y chromosomes admit
to considering him "hot," plays an eager Zorro-in-training;
while Anthony Hopkins, an actor so well-respected that people
fall over themselves with praise even when he turns in hackwork
(as he does here), plays a vengeful, veteran Zorro. Hopkins teaches
Banderas the ropes--or the whips, actually--while Catherine Zeta-Jones
pretties up the screen with her Spanish cat eyes and huge Cheshire
cat grin. Meow. For summer entertainment that's mindless without
being mind-numbing, you could do a lot worse.
--Woodruff
THE NEGOTIATOR. Less gunplay! More wordplay! At least,
that's the intention behind this talkative action picture starring
Samuel L. Jackson and Kevin Spacey. Jackson plays a hostage negotiator
who, framed after his buddy discovers a police embezzlement ring,
takes his own hostages in hopes they'll buy him time to prove
his innocence. Spacey plays a negotiator from another district,
chosen by Jackson because he's unlikely to be corrupt. Needless
to say, there's a lot of negotiating going on, and at times the
theme is pushed so hard that the film feels strained; the uncleverly
clever climax, in particular, begs for a rewrite. The law-enforcement
clichés pile up, too, and director F. Gary Gray doles them
out with no sense of irony--we're even subjected to close-ups
of Jackson's badge. But Jackson and Spacey can brighten up the
dimmest of screenplays, and they're well-supported by some of
the bit players--especially a comic-relieving criminal played
by Paul Giamatti, who looks like Rob Schneider after a holiday
eating binge. The late J.T. Walsh supplies his trademark sad-eyed
villainy, which leads to some very uncomfortable moments when
art imitates death. --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
THE PARENT TRAP. This summer, the high-profile kids' movies
are putting the high-profile adults' movies to shame. First we
get a Cinderella who could beat the crap out of Godzilla; now
we get a set of twins so cute they could blow up the meteors in
both Deep Impact and Armageddon just by curtseying
at them. This remake of the 1961 Disney movie stars the freckle-faced
Lindsay Lohan as both twins, and the technology of this screen
trick has officially reached a point where you can't tell there's
any trick at all. The twins, one from London and the other from
Napa Valley, meet at summer camp and realize their parents (Natasha
Richardson and Dennis Quaid, both exactly as attractive and pleasant
as they need to be) divorced and split them up long ago. They
conspire to switch places and become Cupids, identical Cupids,
so their parents--who also happen to be filthy rich--will get
back together. Forget about thinking toys and talking animals;
this is a child's fantasy. Other than the clunky opening
scenes, which explain the premise in about 14 different ways,
The Parent Trap is handled with impeccable wit, timing
and sweetness by director Nancy Meyers. --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
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
SNAKE EYES. How is it that a director so masterful at the
techniques of manipulation can be so obtuse about connecting to
his audience? At the start, Brian DePalma's use of moving camera
is brilliant--he sets up an elaborate assassination plot in what
seems like only one or two rapidly tracking shots through a boxing
arena. Then, as protagonist Nicolas Cage (in a wild but well-focused
performance) unravels the case, DePalma shifts into Rashomon
mode, depicting the same scenes repeatedly from a variety of perspectives--including
those of several video surveillance cameras. It's wonderful, but
DePalma and screenwriter David Koepp reveal the mystery midway
through, giving way to a poorly established character study; a
limp series of cat-and-mouse scenes involving a beautiful and
hopelessly nearsighted witness; and a brutal, stupid finale. What
were they thinking? The whole movie could have been just mystery-thickening
tracking shots and it would have been great. Snake Eyes
is still a visual feast, but you might want to throw it up afterwards.
--Woodruff
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