Mystic River HH
Director Clint Eastwood misses the mark in the most overrated movie of 2003. Three young boys become part of a tragedy in 1975, and a murder in 2000 brings them together again. Disappointingly, Sean Penn overacts in this one while Tim Robbins plays an outcast to perfection. Meanwhile, detective Kevin Bacon is hot on the trail of the killer. There are a couple of plot holes big enough to steer a barge through, and the ham-fisted metaphors will make you wince. I'll take a slice of Mystic Pizza instead.
Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World HH
Avast ye mates. This time a captain (Russell Crowe) steers his ship, aptly named the HMS Surprise, through dangerous waters. He and the ship surgeon (Paul Bettany) play classical music together in the off hours (No sea shanties here). Unfortunately, there isn't much else going on besides roaring cannonballs and strange surgery until the climax. No need to take Dramamine, but then again, no need to pay full fare for this cruise.
Johnny English HH
"Mr. Bean" meets "James Bond" as comedian Rowan Atkinson spoofs the famous secret agent. If you're expecting a British Austin Powers, forget it. This is a more suave and subtle form. The gags come close to the mark, but you may wonder why they didn't go for the jugular instead of playing it safe. Ben Miller plays his hapless sidekick. Peter Howitt directs.
Director Martin Scorsese's long overdue film about a
bloody historical footnote of New York City's Five Points District is strangely
interesting, but watching it is like being hit over the head with a shillelagh.
Leonardo DiCaprio is the son of an Irish gang leader (Liam Neesen). Daniel
Day-Lewis (doing his best imitation of Snidely Whiplash or is it Harry Reemes
with a handlebar moustache?) portrays the leader of the Nativist gang. After a
bloody opening rumble, one should be able to figure out the storyline rather
quickly. Its only a matter of time, but there's enough bloodletting and mayhem
in between to make Sam Peckinpah feel proud. When all is said and done, its
pretty pointless. See if you can spot director Scorsese in the film (hint: he
has big bushy eyebrows). Also starring Cameron Diaz, John C. Reilly, Henry
Thomas, and Jim Broadbent.
Thirteen HH
Despite some excellent acting, this is about as abysmal as a movie gets. Unlike Todd Solondz's "Welcome to The Dollhouse", this ratchets the angst to an intolerable level as a 13-year-old (Evan Rachel Wood) falls in with the wrong crowd when she befriends a popular girl (Nikki Reed). Her mother (Holly Hunter) is a drug addict with little, if any, parenting skills while her ex-cokehead boyfriend (Jeremy Sisto) comes in and out of the picture. You might want to watch Larry Clark's "Kids" or Harmony Korine's "Gummo" to cheer you up. Catherine Hardwicke directed and co-wrote this downer along with Reed. Not a movie to take a teenager to see. It would make a good punishment though.
Confidence HH
Don’t let any critic con you into seeing this. If you enjoyed “The Sting”, you may find this to be the dullest, confidence movie, ever made. Once the cat is out of the bag, you’re sure to figure out every twist and turn by the end. With Edward Burns doing his best imitation of Ben Affleck, the supporting figures are Rachel Weisz, Andy Garcia, and Paul Giamatti. Dustin Hoffman is the only one who adds any credibility to this mish-mash. I suppose in the screen test it was a prerequisite that you can utter the “F” word, as every cast member says it at least once. Screenwriter Doug Jung and director James Foley should be banned from Hollywood.
Despite the stunning technical achievement of a single 87-minute shot, this movie just about sinks under the weight of its pretentiousness. The amazing feat of cinematographer Tilman Büttner's glorious Steadicam operation is made virtually pointless by writer/director Aleksandr Sokurov's obtuse screenplay about 300 years of Russian history. The film opens up with a blank screen and lights up with an awakening outside the State Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg. We follow a couple of soldiers until we unfortunately meet up with the Marquis de Custine (Sergei Dontsov), who is a strange meld of Peter O'Toole and Nosferateu. He prattles endlessly with an offscreen voice (Sukuov, of course) and walks from room to room bumping into historical Russian figures. One wishes the Marquis would leave this tour, but nyet. Every now and then we break into a room where an orchestra is playing and things liven up. The film's most poignant dialogue comes when the Marquis wants to leave a certain party otherwise, a terrible boredom will set in (you'll be able to sympathize). For those still interested, this is the first uncompressed high-definition film recorded on a portable hard disk. It was then transferred to 35 mm film.
One of the most unfunniest movies I've seen in years. After being dumped from a marriage proposal, poor Jerry (Cuba Gooding, Jr.) and his friend (Horatio Sanz) set sail on the high seas only to find themselves revengefully placed on a gay cruise. Until the Swedish sunbathing team is shot from the sky, the only female (Roselyn Sanchez) on board becomes the love interest. The fellatio (ahem) gags flow throughout the movie and poor Roger Moore plays an aging queen. This movie doesn't know what it wants to be a satire or a gross-out lowbrow comedy. Slipshod production (watch for the boom mic come into shot several times) makes this even more ridiculous. You'll wish for an iceberg before this ends.
Chicago H
Some things are better left on stage. Bill Condon's
adaptation of the Broadway play is a deadly bore (I dozed off twice during the
dance numbers). A star struck wife (Renée Zellweger)
murders her lying boyfriend and with the help of a sleazy lawyer (Richard
Gere), attempts to beat the rap. A prison matron (Queen Latifah) and cabaret
dancer (Catherine Zeta-Jones) join in on the conspiracy. The interspersing of
stagy choreography and real-life action shots make this a muddled mess. There
is no sense of Chicago in the roaring 20's or feeling for any of the
characters. How or why Hollywood gave this a green light is beyond me. You'd be
better off watching “All That Jazz” to see how it should be done. Also
featuring John C. Reilly and Christine Baranski. Rob Marshall directed this
hollow spectacle.
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