NEVER BACK DOWN [2008]

     I suspect that sometime in the near future the old adage- "Give a monkey a typewriter and...." will actually happen.  Studio executives tired of dealing with the diva whims of writers and directors will find a group of trained chimps and force them to crank out a film.  I also suspect that the resulting film will show more imagination than the 110 minute waste of your life that is "Never Back Down".  Originally titled "Get Some", I guess the producers thought that was too trite so the much more original "Never Back Down" was chosen instead.  This being the best title they could settle on should be the first clue as to the money grubbing generic trash level this film is willing to sink to sucker the public.  It's as if the old cartoon character Wile E. Coyote pulled an "ACME Underdog Movie" out of a box and threw it in the multiplexes.

Hastily thrown together to cash in on the current soaring popularity of Ultimate Fighting and Mixed Martial Arts spectacles, "Never Back Down" is not only witless and formulaic but inherently reckless and dangerous for its target teen audience.  Emphasizing brawn over brain it glorifies violence and panders to the worst primal impulses of testosterone filled teens with not even a whit of a moral lesson.
Peppered with a cast of bland pretty boys and girls culled from TV soapers such as "The O.C." and "Hidden Palms", "Never Back Down" spins the tired tale of troubled teen Jake Tyler (Tom Cruise impersonator Sean Faris) who relocates to a high school in Orlando where seemingly everyone has perfect teeth and lives in mansions.  On his very first day he stumbles on an underground fight club led by cocky stud Ryan McCarthy (smirky Cam Gigandet) who surprisingly has not a single scar or bruise on his perfect face and body.  Catching the eye of blonde babydoll Baja Miller (a stupefyinly wooden Amber Heard) who happens to be Ryan's girlfriend, Jake is lured into a bare knuckle fight with Ryan to test his mettle.  Of course he is beaten silly by the superior skilled Ryan and skulks home to nurse his wounds.  Baja (groan) takes a shine to Jake and the inevitable showdown is just around the corner.
Before the requisite fight can occur however, Jake is taken by his goofy new bud Evan Peters (a mildly amusing Max Cooperman) to a local gym (how convienent) run by intense martial arts master (there's one in every town) Jean Roqua (a sweaty and paycheck grabbing Djimon Hounsou).  There, with slo-mo sequences and stirring emo songs on the soundtrack, Jake is made a better person and a lean mean butt-kicking machine.  Never back down, Jake, never back down!
Unfortunately, our young Jake decides to not participate in the big tournament at the local rave club where every year amateur warriors throw down.  He will not use his kung-fu for evil.  However, after bad boy Ryan beats the Ritalin out of nerdy BFF Evan and puts him in the hospital, Jake goes all Rocky and heads into the fray with a weepy Baja (groan) in tow.  You'll never guess what transpires.
The paint by numbers script is written by a certain monkey named Chris Hauty who is quite well versed with "dog" movies as he previously penned "Homeward Bound II-Lost In San Francisco".
The directing honors go to robot Jeff Wadlow who gave the world the equally hackneyed teen slasher "Cry Wolf".

The real criminals behind this "SaveTheLastKarateKidToStepUpAndStompTheYard" atrocity are the producers who bankrolled this slop with no regard for the consequences.  You have only to search "fights" on YouTube to see young people maiming and pummeling each other for "entertainment".  True Ultimate Fighters and Mixed Martial Arts practioners are highly trained and battle in controlled circumstances.  Thus aside from "Never Back Down" being a truly bad film it's a blatanly irresponsible impetus for impressionable youths to severely injure each other.  To make such a cash craving threat to public safety is inexcusable.

FINAL VERDICT:

NO BANANAS
IRRESPONSIBLE GARBAGE.  CLICHED TRIPE ON BURNT TOAST.  AVOID!

                                        

MY BEST FRIEND [2006]

No matter how humble we purport to be, we secretly would like to think that upon our death many friends would attend our funeral, bemoaning our passing and extolling our virtues.  Musing aloud at a dinner party about the exact number of pals that would come to honor his trip to the pearly gates, smug antiques dealer Francois is swiftly informed by his gathered "friends" that the number would be exactly zero.  He soon realizes that this is no joke, in fact the group truthfully admits that they are simply "business contacts" and by no means real "friends" and in reality can't stand him.  Even his long-time business partner Catherine has to confess he's really not a likeable person and chides him about having even one best friend.  His ego bruised,  an outraged Francois bets Catherine a very expensive piece of ancient art that in ten days he will produce this  "best friend" to prove to all he isn't friendless.  Thus the stage is set for the witty and delightful  French comedy Mon Meilleur Ami (My Best Friend).

Francois (the great Daniel Auteuil in a wonderfully stuffy performance) has spent the better part of his life putting business ahead of intimacy, to the detriment of even his relationship with his own wife and daughter.  They accept him but can't feel close to him.  He is self-centered and oblivious to his basic repugnance.  He's clueless and in need of some serious counsel on his sobering quest for a best bud.

Meanwhile Bruno (a scene stealing Danny Boon) an eternally cheerful taxi-driver is having some friend issues of his own.  Big-eared and big-hearted Bruno dreams of being on Who Wants To Be Millionaire and is a walking encyclopedia of facts that would put even Jeopardy wunderkind Ken Jennings to shame.  The trouble is when actually auditioning for quiz shows he suffers overwhelming panic attacks.  So he whiles away the hours annoying his passengers with endless fountains of trivia.  It's his awkward way of being sociable, but it tends to make people want to get as far away from him as possible.

Through chance Bruno and Francois come together.  Francois mistakenly sees Bruno as the "sociable" person he needs to be and hires him as a teacher.  Surely the easy going, fast talking Bruno is the perfect business acquisition to  help him win his bet.  Bruno desperate for attention sees Francois as a chance to have a true best friend.  Of course the arrangement doesn't go exactly as planned and the dynamic between Bruno and Francois is the source of much hilarity.

Deftly directed by Patrice Leconte, who has been quietly turning out understated little masterpieces for over thirty years from Monsieur Hire to the more recent Man On The Train and Intimate Strangers,  My Best Friend is heartwarming without being cloying.  And in the teaming of Boon and Auteuil, previously seen together in The Valet, Leconte has found the perfect team for his subtle humane brand of humor.  In fact their easy chemistry together has not been seen in French cinema since the iconic teaming of Gerard Depardieu and Patrick Dewaere in such classics as Going Places and Get Out Your Handkerchiefs.

In a year where "buddy" movies were defined by slapstick action (Rush Hour 3) and highly offensive premises (I Now Prounounce You Chuck And Larry)  it was refreshing to see a film that honestly examined the meaning of true friendship without resorting to big-budget pathos.  My Best Friend is at turns comforting and confounding, amusing and unpredictable, a film you truly enjoy spending time with...in fact the exact things you look for in a best friend.

                                                   RATING:   3 1/2 BANANAS

MOLIERE [2007]

It's 1658 and the great French playwright Moliere is returning to Paris for the first time in thirteen years.  Having been given a theatre by the King he is finally getting the respect he deserves after struggling in the Provinces with his ragtag troupe of actors for well over a decade.  Known for comedy, Moliere is fretful and wishing to be taken seriously decides to stage a tragedy for his triumphant homecoming.  The Royal Court begs to differ, however, and Moliere must capitulate to give the people what they want.  When he is summoned to the deathbed of someone from his past the inspiration is put in place, and Moliere takes quill in hand and sets about writing his newest masterpiece.  Flashing back to thirteen years earlier when life wasn't exactly a bowl of croissants, and in one of historys great lterary mysteries Moliere seemingly dissappeared from the face of the earth for a few months......
A fanciful recreation of what may have happened is the basis for this charming  film from director Laurent Tirard.   In 1644 Jean-Baptiste Poquelin aka Moliere  delights in staging farces that poke fun at the powers that be.  The tax-collectors being a decidedly humorless lot, toss our dear penniless thespian in debtors prison for not the first time.  It is there that a mysterious benefactor known as M. Jourdain offers to pay Moliere's debts in return for his services.  It seems the married Jourdain is quite enamored of a certain sassy courtesan named Celimene whose many suitors vainly curry for her favor.   He needs help with his acting skills in order to perform a play that he has written for her in hopes that she will be flattered and amused enough to become his mistress.  The catch is Moliere will have to coach him on the down-low and Jourdain has hit upon the idea of presenting him as a priest so he can enter the household without arousing suspicion.  Jourdain, a hapless buffon, has many teachers in the household.  He valiantly tries to excel at art, music, and fencing but is lousy at everything.  Moliere, after a few comic attempts at escape, decides to dedicate himself to the task at hand, especiallly after getting an ooh-la-la eyeful of Madame Jourdain.  To divulge more would ruin the twists and turns this wily and witty film takes.  Suffice it to say, you'll be tittering into your puffy sleeves and smiling behind your fans.

Far from a serious take on the great satirist's life, Moliere is a highly entertaining comedy of errors in the Shakespeare In Love vein.  The cast seems wonderfully game and are all excellent in their roles.  Romain Duris (The Beat That My Heart Skipped) plays Moliere as a randy Jack Sparrow type and is suprisingly deft with his broad comic part.  M. Jourdain, as played by Fabrice Luchini, is equal parts despicable tyrant and sympathetic oaf.  Laura Morante gives an emotional depth to Madame Jourdain in a role that could easily haved collapsed  into caricature.  The always fetching Ludivine Sagnier (Swimming Pool) gives the much sought after Celimene the right mixture of tease and meaness.  Rounding out the ensemble is Edouard Baer as Dorante, the slimy undermining best friend to Jourdain in a masterfully sleazy performance.  Add the breathtaking scenery and sumptuous costumes and you have the perfect end of summer diversion.
Already a surprise hit at film festivals, expect Moliere to get a best foreign film nomination at the Academy Awards, and deservingly so.  Romantic and smartly scripted, Moliere would surely approve of Moliere.  The film ultimately sums up his quote "Reason is not what decides love".

                                           RATING:  3 1/2 BANANAS

JIMMY CARTER MAN FROM PLAINS [2007]

There was an awful book of verse published a few years back by American poet-nauseate James Kavanaugh entitled "There are Men Too Gentle To Walk Among Wolves".  I couldn't help recalling that overheated statement as I watched the documentary "Jimmy Carter Man From Plains".  The documentary reinforced the feeling many who lived through his administration always suspected, Carter is a deeply concerned humanitarian, honest and driven, but as a President and "politician" he's a somewhat naive peanut-farmer swimming with the sharks.
Nearly thirty years after leaving office Carter has become a dedicated human rights activist, forsaking golf games and photo-ops to travel the world championing the downtrodden and rooting out abuse wherever he finds it.  Not content to rest on his laurels, he oversees the humantarian Carter Center which he founded, and still finds time to drive nails as a prominent figure with Habitat For Humanity.  His iron clad morals are admirable yet have made him a target of critics who charge that he can't see the forest for the trees.
His tendency to denigrate current U.S. policy while speaking in foreign lands has made him the Dixie Chick of ex-Presidents.  Reviled by conservative pundits and dismissed by the current administration as any sort of diplomat he is viewed as the near-sighted black sheep of history.
"Man From Plains" mainly focuses on a few months in the life of the Georgia homeboy as he faces what may well be his most controversial move yet.  Following Carter on a cross country author tour to promote his latest book, "Palestine:  Peace Not Apartheid",  he unleashes a can of political worms that has him labeled at best an idiot and at worst an Anti-Semite.  Aside from what some consider the questionable facts of the content, by using the emotionally charged term "apartheid" in the title he has heaped aggravation upon agitation.
The book ostensibly a history of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict zeroes in on the security wall Israel erected around the Palestinian territories.  Israel claims it was strictly for safety, but others including Carter feel that the wall which doesn't just skirt the perimeter but blatantly encroaches deep into Palestinian land is a purposeful toss of gasoline on an already volatile open flame.  Carter feels that it's a further degradation of rights inflicted on a long suffering people who often turn to shocking acts of violence to vent their frustration.  He likens it to someone coming in and taking away his beloved peanut patch.
It's this somewhat black and white view of the situation that has many screaming foul.  They feel that Carter is blaming Israel for the lack of peace and stubbornly ignoring the shades of grey in the problem.  A steady parade of happy suicide bombers tends to make some a wee bit touchy.  The sad fact that in the last election the Palestinian people voted the Hamas party to power, a group not exactly known for their Winston Churchill like statesmanship, only darkens the prospect for any lasting peace.
Throughout the documentary Carter sticks to his guns, defending his position and insisting that many critics have not only not read the book but totally misunderstand it's intent.  Plowing through the talk-show circuit and even meeting with a group of angry rabbis, Carter handles the rhetoric with a Zen-like calm.
Love him or hate him what emerges from this trip is a portrait of a man who is deeply devout and is genuinely moved by suffering.  When tears come from either Carter or his devoted wife Rosalyn, and they come often, it's not a publicity ploy but a heartfelt outpouring of emotion.
Directed by Jonathan Demme with a languid intensity mirroring it's subject, "Man From Plains" is at it's best when focusing on Carters soft-spoken convictions.  Equally comfortable with saint or tyrant, Carter always tried to see the humanity in everyone, whether tending orphans with Mother Teresa or tossing baseballs with Fidel Castro.  When touching on the Sadat-Begin peace talks we truly feel the agony and frustration Carter endured in those days that finally resulted in the historical agreement that will become his true legacy as a President.

  Perhaps the most telling moment in "Man From Plains" however comes when Carter is asked about his handling of the infamous Iranian hostage crisis.  He flatly states that he could have destroyed Iran.  He felt that killing twenty or thirty thousand Iranians with the end result being dead hostages, that force would accomplish nothing.  In an age where saber rattling and gunboat diplomacy seemingly rule the day, it's refreshing and somewhat disheartening to re-visit a time when there was still room for reason and hope in an elusive little technique called "talk".

                                            RATING:  3 BANANAS

KENNY [2007]

One of the funniest movies you might happen to see  also really "stinks."  It could also very well be the "Citizen Kane" of portable toilet movies.  Released in Australia in 2006 this little gem is just now circulating in the States and is a not to be missed chuckle a minute small miracle.
Dubbed  "A Knight In Shining Overalls", Kenny is a hero in a world gone to err..poo. Reminiscent of the best of the Christopher Guest mockumentaries like "Best In Show" or "Waiting For Guffman", "Kenny" plays its hand close to the vest, rarely winning the pot (no pun intended) by broad humor but instead bluffing its way through with a relative straight face.  The hilarity organically generated from the earnestness of the main character Kenny Smyth, a wonderfully subtle comedic turn by co-writer Shane Jacobson.  Kenny is the head (no pun intended) multi-tasker for the "Splashdown" company that specializes in the port-a-john delivery business.  No event is too big or small for Kenny to ensure the right amount of "relief" stations are delivered and maintained.  He takes his job very seriously and is so detail oriented that for example he asks each and every customer if any curries or spicy equivalents are being served so as to have extra "facilities" on hand if needed.  Dealing with lazy co-workers, complaining clients, and portapotty vandals are simply all in a days work for Kenny that he wipes away (no pun intended) effortlessly.  A bit harder to deal with however, is his insulting grumpy Father (real-life dad Ronald Jacobson), an unruly son (real-life son Jesse Jacobson), and a surly ex-wife who harangues Kenny constantly.  He is still a bit regretful about losing his wife  "but when you spend more time with other peoples poo than you do with your missus, there's bound to be a penalty", he philosophically states.  The truly unique thing about Kenny is that he is a man with an almost zen like acceptance of his lot in life.  While others around him view him with pity, disgust, or disdain, he calmly lives his life with "no worries".  Kenny is simple but not stupid,  and seems genuinely satisfied  not just settling for less.   When he gets a chance to attend a "plumbing and cleaning" convention in Nashville, Tennessee, his wonderment is infectious.
Don't worry , even though "Kenny" does have its charming and touching moments it is first and foremost a riotous laugh fest, peppered with crude humor and smartly sly dialogue.
Directed and co-written by Shane "kenny" Jacobson's brother Clayton, it's a family affair of spot on comic timing and quotable lines.  In fact it was such a hit down under that it spawned a TV sit-com  in Australia...which I have a sneaky feeling America will ruin eventually with it's own take starring someone irritating like Dane Cook.

  So if your feeling a bit constipated with recent US comedies I urge you to relieve yourself by seeing "Kenny" it's a masterfully funny comedy colonic.

                                                 RATING:  3 1/2 BANANAS

I'VE LOVED YOU SO LONG [2008]

The late critic Pauline Kael, influential and irascible, once remarked on a film that "This movie is a toupee made up to look like honest baldness."  This toupee from France, "I've Loved You So Long"  aspires to be high art.  It's deadly serious and wrestles with it's heady themes unapologetically.  Unfortunately the results feel contrived and soft boiled.  It wants to jerk a tear and pluck a heartstring, but in order to successfully achieve this goal the viewer must care about the players.  There's no lack of soulful looks and revelatory chats, but the stale air of despair hangs heavy around the hollow characters and the film sinks accordingly.  By the time the anticlimatic redemption arrives it's trite and obvious and the movie has already drowned.
An enormous critical success and huge box office hit in France, the appeal of "I've Loved You So Long" is inexplicable to me.  Maybe something was lost in the translation.  The film plods along at a stupefying pace that numbs any feeling when feeble family secrets are revealed.
Juliette, a mopey Kristen Scott Thomas sans make-up, has just been released from prison after serving 15 years for a crime that's the 500 pound gorilla in the room throughout the film.  She is met by her younger sister Lea, a terminally cheery Elsa Zylberstein, who unexpectedly takes her in to her home even though she's made no effort to visit or write to Juliette for the past 15 years.  There she meets Lea's dour and pompous husband and their two adopted Vietnamese children.  There's also Grandpapa who after suffering a stroke is a bit kooky and unable to speak.  Lea, who longs to reconnect with Juliette can only indulge in mindless chatter avoiding any discussion of "the crime".  Juliette, meanwhile, frowns and rarely talks inadvertingly becoming a conduit through which the other characters can speak freely.  One of the few lively scenes occurs when Lea throws a dinner party and a particularly obnoxious guest won't quit pestering Juliette about where she's been hiding, she shockingly blurts out her horrible crime which gives everyone a grand laugh at what a sharp wit Juliette posesses.  The only one who sees that she is telling the truth is a professor  who used to teach classes at a prison and befriends her.
As the film progresses Juliette is seemingly the only truly "free" person, even though she doesn't realize it.  Everyone around her is imprisoned in one way or another and longs to escape.
Lea dotes on Juliette to escape her guilt at abandoning her.  Juliette's parole officer longs to escape his depressing job and selfishly talks to Juliette incessantly about his sailing dreams.  Even Grandpa rarely leaves his library, escaping into his books.  Juliette is a blank slate under a dark cloud and when the cloud finally bursts it's surprisingly boring rather than heart rending.
What could have been a riveting drama dealing with familial and maternal responsibility among other themes, instead reeks of over ripe melodrama.  One problem is first time director Philippe Claudel, an acclaimed novelist in France who seems to have trouble making the transition from page to screen.  The direction is claustrophobic and static.  There are a few sparks that show he has potential and I will look forward to his next effort.
"I've Loved You So Long"  is not a bad film and I feel sure that it will garner some Oscar nominations, Kristen Scott Thomas is a sure bet for a best actress nom.
The shame of "I've Loved You So Long" is that it could have been a warmblooded moving film, but regretfully only ice water is running through it's veins.

                                                   RATING:  2 1/2 BANANAS

I SERVED THE KING OF ENGLAND [2008]

"I Served The King Of England" is at once a semi-fantastical encapsulation of Czech history and a Chaplinesque fable of a hapless anti-hero swept along by fate and selfishly adapting to the whims of power and wealth.
Directed and written by Jiri' Menzel [CLOSELY WATCHED TRAINS] and based on a book by famous Czech novelist Bohumil Hrabal, "I Served The King Of England" is an award winning minor masterpiece that harkens back to some of the true foreign classics of Seventies European and East-European cinema.  Reminiscent of Wertmuller's Seven Beauties, it's at turns comedic and bittersweet in its portrayal of war, romance, and a life about survival.
The film begins with an older Jan Dite (Oldrich Kaiser) being released from a fifteen year stint in prison.  As he settles in an abandoned German pub in the wilderness of the Czech Republic, Jan Dite begins to narrate his life and the film becomes a series of riveting flashbacks.
Young Jan (a deftly funny Ivan Barnev) is obsessed with being a millionaire.  Starting out as a lowly railway frankfurter salesman, Jan is an ambitious moneymaker and also a keen observer of human behavior.  Through chance meetings and self-centered manipulations he lands a series of jobs at posh hotels where he excels at servitude and lusts for the lifestyle of those he waits on.
As much a slave to his loins as he is to his wallet, young Jan has a series of romantic encounters that he approaches with the same ardor as his work.  
The film takes a darker turn as Germany's takeover of Czechoslovakia begins.  Jan, seemingly oblivious, takes it all in stride.  He even falls for a young German teacher Liza ( a remarkable Julia Jentsch) who becomes a true-blue Nazi. This does not dampen his love for her at all, and being blonde haired and blue-eyed he is even allowed to marry her, though he is doomed to remain a Bohemian outsider.
As Liza goes off to war, Jan, in one of the film's many black humored moments, is put in charge of serving a bevy of frolicking Aryan beauties waiting to be impregnated by brave soldiers of the Third Reich.  The opulent hotel he was once a waiter in is now an idyllic breeding facility for the master race.
The many adventures of Jan Dite makes  for enthralling viewing.  How he finally becomes a millionaire and loses it all, his daliances with various ladies, and his dogged self centeredness form the bulk of this wonderful film.  Jan Dite is basically a cipher through which we witness the breathtaking glamour of old Prague, the creeping rise and eventual fall of Hitler's dream, and the eventual advent of communism.
A comical, satirical, sometimes disturbing rumination on love, power, and self, "I Served The King Of England" is a personal epic of self-discovery through overwhelming events.  As Old Jan states "my happiness was always in the fact that some unhappiness overtook me."

Beautifully filmed with images that will linger long in the memory, "I Served The King Of England" is that rare bit of pure cinema that transports the viewer to another world, a world of pleasure and pain, a world that you don't want to leave once the lights come up.

                                                      RATING:  4 BANANAS

I.O.U.S.A. [2008]

Schlock producer/director  and genius promoter William Castle was master of the "gimmick".   Whether it be literally shocking patrons out of the theatre seats during "The Tingler" or sending skeletons flying over their heads during "House On Haunted Hill", he had no problem packing in the public.   So what would he do with the  documentary, "I.O.U.S.A.", a film that needs to be seen, but given current economic conditions, will probably die a quick death at the multiplex. (If it even makes it to any "multiplex")
I think he would have trotted out the old "life insurance" gag, where every moviegoer would sign a policy going in and be guaranteed a "pay-off" if they "died of fright" during the film.  Is "I.O.U.S.A." that scary?  As Sarah Palin might say "You betcha!"
Whereas "An Inconvienent Truth" had ahem, heavyweight Al Gore at it's center and great celebrity endorsements, "I.O.U.S.A." is just as vital to our future on this planet  but it has no glamour, no real "pizzaz", unless you have a pin-up of Alan Greenspan over your bed.  Let's face it, global warming is well, glamourous.  We can grasp the concept, yet to most it still is probably as threatening as a fairy-tale.  "I.O.U.S.A." is about hard economics, which is far from glamourous and dramatic but just as catastrophic for our future.  The thought that the goood old USA could go the way of the Roman Empire in the next twenty years or so as an acute possibility is talk that would put a major buzzkill on any cocktail party.  Not to mention economics is a subject that most Americans, including myself, have about as much understanding of as they do Martian Heiroglyphics.
The two unlikely heroes of "I.O.U.S.A." are the decidedly unglamorous David Walker, former Comptroller General and head of the Government Accountability Office (GAO) of the U.S. under Clinton and Bush Jr. and., and Robert Bixby, an anoerxic younger Andy Rooney lookalike, TAB diet-cola addicted, economist and executive director of the non-partisan Concord Foundation.  Schlepping across the U.S. on their "Fiscal Wake-Up Tour", they are warning the populace that government debt is out of control and that if something is not done, and done now, that future generations will be left with a quality of life that is lower than abysmal.
A kidney-punch lesson in Econ 101, "I.O.U.S.A." purports that in the future our leaders will not make foreign policy, but our bankers will.  Hello, China!   Even if we eliminate all pork-barrell  spending, reverse the damage of any Bush tax cuts, and end the war in Iraq, that will only account for a measly 14% of our total debt.  We're not exporting like we used to folks, and come January 2013 our obligations will reach approximately 12+  trillion dollars.  That's not rhetoric, that's reality.  The State of the Union is in a state of denial, ladies and gents, we are broke!  We're spending way beyond our means....I'll give you a minute to get your latest credit card bill.....and cute little grandpup "Toby" is fronting the interest.
"I.O.U.S.A." can be too easily dismissed as a liberal diatribe or a knee-jerk "Obama" commercial,  the truth is, as evidenced by the recent buy-out, neither party seems to have a clue.  The disastrous last twelve years is only a prelude to what lies ahead financially.  "I.O.U.S.A." is like it or not, a cold reality check to both Democrat and Republican.

Somewhat dry and sprawling in its presentation, "I.O.U.S.A." still manges to land a deathblow to current economic policy.  It's not pretty, and it may not be Oscar-worthy, but it's as timely as the latest poll results.  Save if you can, and remember if you see this in the theatre or on DVD, as "I.O.U.S.A." reminds us...."While you watched this film 85 million was added to the federal debt".

                                                    RATING:  3 BANANAS

GYPSY CARAVAN [WHEN THE ROAD BENDS] [2006]

Ask any ten people where "Gypsies" originated and you're apt to get ten different answers.  Ask any ten people what's the first word that springs to mind when you say "Gypsy", and you're apt to get the same response:  "thief".  It's also probably a safe bet those same people were frightened as children with the old chesnut, "Behave, or the Gypsies will get you!".  The stigma of land pirates with one hand on a crystal ball and the other on your wallet has haunted Gypsy culture since the beginning.
In reality "Gypsies" or "Rom" were nomadic peoples that migrated from Northern India in the 14th Century and over thousands of years have settled in just about every spot on the globe, many maintaining a rich sense of cultural identity and speaking the Romany language of their ancestors. The fact that many have had to resort to nefarious means to survive only adds to the myth and unfortunate impression of the people.  As the old Gypsy saying goes, "When the road bends, it's hard to walk straight".  Persecuted throughout history by everyone from the Nazis to the modern day "ethnic cleansers" in Kosovo, the Rom have survived and flourished despite the odds.
In the  documentary Gypsy Caravan (aka When The Road Bends) , an attempt to afford them some due respect is given by exploring a joyous bond they all share, the uniting force of music.  Rom music, embracing such diverse genres as Raga and Flamenco, is like its performers, a wild mix of the reverent and the devil-may-care.
Gypsy Caravan seeks to weave these rhythmic threads together by following five Gypsy groups on a whirlwind tour of North America.  The spectrum of blood-tied musicians is amazing.  We have Antonio El Pipa & His Flamenco Ensemble from Spain, Maharaja from India, Esma Redzepova from Macedonia, and Fanfare Ciocarilia and Taraf De Haidouks (Band Of Outlaws) from Romania.  Watching as they bond and share music over six weeks on the road is an exciting prospect that is unfortunately repeatedly dulled by the film makers.  Dubbed the "Buena Vista Social Club" of Gypsy music, Gypsy Caravan is a decidedly lukewarm endeavour that lacks that film's spark.
Written, produced, and directed by Jasmine Dellal creator of reality TV's "Beauty School",  the proceedings are too often rendered perfunctory rather than powerful.  The prescence of the great documentarian Albert Maysles as cinematographer is equally disappointing as the puzzling overall camcorder look betrays his reputation as one of the innovators of the documentary form.  Perhaps the greatest frustration is the short shrift and screen time that is actually given to the musical performances themselves.
By juxtaposing the tedium of the tour bus with vignettes from each performers home the film's whiplash approach strives for emotional depth yet falls flat.  The brief peeks into their backgrounds are tantalizing and over too quickly and we're back to five minute stretches of the exciting luggage restrictions on airplanes.
The film does have some bright spots in certain "characters" from the groups.  Aside from Antonio El Pipa who frankly seems to be on board due to his matinee idol looks, rather than his Flamenco skills, there are some choice moments with the performers where the film really shines.
We see Harish Kamar from Maharaja, who performs as a female, fussing over his saris, and transforming into his striking feminine self to do the dervish style knee dance.  We listen as the crusty patriarch and self professed "star" of  Taraf De Haidouks, Nicolai Neaucescu (who sadly died during filming), reminesces about his life and his lust for women.  Along the way we are also treated to scenes and sensibilities foreign to Western eyes, a mournful Gypsy funeral and Taraf's Caliu as he rejoices at the marriage of his nineteen year old son to a thirteen! year old village girl.  It's in these sequences, and the truncated musical numbers, that one gets a glimpse of what a truly great film this could have been.

Alas the viewer is advised to withold their silver from this particular "Gypsy" and wait for a used DVD.  In the meantime buy the soundtrack and seek out the excellent Rom music documentary "Latchmo Drom" instead.

                                                RATING:  2 1/2 BANANAS

FORBIDDEN KINGDOM [2008]

Since the first spool of silver nitrate ran through a magic box to produce flickering wonder on a screen, movie makers have loved a good gimmick. Whether it be the cowboy shooting a gun directly at the audience from "The Great Train Robbery", or "King Kong" swatting planes like flies atop the Empire State Building, offering some illicit thrill has put seats in the seats.  Also since the early days of cinema,  dollar sign eyed producers have often trotted out the dog and pony show known as the "TOGETHER FOR THE FIRST TIME!" gimmick.  Take two bankable "stars", throw 'em together in a film and voila!, box office gold.  Sometimes.  Too often these "powerhouse" pairings have resulted in ultimately mediocre movies with bad scripts and befuddled "stars" with no chemistry.  For every Crawford/Davis, Pacino/DeNiro, Frankenstein/Wolfman success there's a Three Stooges/Hercules, Affleck/Lopez fiasco.
The latest celluloid twosome tempest in a teacup is "Forbidden Kingdom" featuring the formidable duo of martial arts greats Jackie Chan and Jet Li.  Fans have long been clamoring for this team-up and the question now becomes was it worth the wait?
To answer this I had to bring TOGETHER FOR THE FIRST TIME....the GEEK and the CRITIC!  Sitting like the proverbial angel and devil on my shoulder while viewing this film, the geek was in heaven initially, simply seeing the two together, while the critic was skeptical from the start.  Unfortunately this becomes the sticky wicket with "Forbidden Kingdom".  It's ultimate success depends on whether the zowee! factor of battling icons can supercede the tired script and lazy direction.
  Anyone who's watched even a handful of kung-fu flicks will be all too familiar with the plot.  Whether veiwers will find this comforting or annoying is a matter of temperament.  Jack (an innocuous but bland Michael Angarano) is a young man who is obsessed with martial arts movies and is a frequent customer of Old Hop (Jackie Chan in old age makeup).  Old Hop runs a video/curio store in Jack's local Chinatown and is full of the usual chuckling mystical wisdom one expects from a kindly old shopkeeper named Old Hop. One day while admiring an antique staff in the back, Jack is informed that it was once the property of the magical, mirthful Monkey King (Jet Li).  It seems the immortal trickster once ran afoul of an evil warlord five hundred years ago and wound up imprisoned in stone to await a "chosen one" to return the relic and free him.  Do you see this one coming?
After local thugs strongarm Jack into helping them rob Old Hop, chaos ensues.  Old Hop is shot and Jack manages to fall off a roof magic staff in hand.  He awakens in ancient China clueless and immediately set upon by soldiers.  Saved in the nick of time by drunken traveller Lu Yan (Chan, again) Jack's quest to return the staff begins.  For Jack is the "chosen one" of prophecy and has alot to learn.  Along the way these two meet Golden Sparrow (a charming Yifei Liu) "girl with a grudge" and a mystical Monk (Jet Li, again) a "monk with a mission".  Thus, this ragtag group must come together and train the reluctant "Karate Kid" to defeat the evil warlord and free the Monkey.
This crusty plot plays out with no surprises and a dissappointing lack of excitement.  There are a few comic moments and a fairly dazzling fight between Chan and Li at their first meeting but never any "House Of Flying Daggers", "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" jaw-dropping show-stoppers.  The sets and effects are lackluster also given the budget, hinting that it may have taken more money than good will to bring Chan and Li together.
The chemistry between the two mega stars is easygoing but somehow restrained.  Both being known for choreographing their fights to ballet perfection, they appear hobbled here by the powers that be, as does the whole film.  There was so much potential here for something truly awesome that the anticipation of a firecracker ready to explode hangs heavy in the air, which makes the eventual fizzle that much more painful.
Sadly the blame must fall on the Americans involved.  From the plodding direction by Rob Minkoff (his first effort since 2003's awful "Haunted Mansion"), to the stale script by John Fusco ("Hildago"), "Forbidden Kingdom" is a "magic staff" stolen by dolts who have no idea what to do with it.  It's interesting to note that the classic Ronny Yu film "The Bride With White Hair" is referenced more than once in "Forbidden Kingdom" making one sorely long for what a Yu or Woo or Hark could have done with this project.

Here's hoping there's a better Chan/Li "TOGETHER AGAIN FOR THE FIRST TIME!" in the future, but as for "Forbidden Kingdom" I must sadly report that both the geek and the critic left the theatre quietly underwhelmed.

                                                RATING:  2 1/2 BANANAS

DOUBT [2008]

There's part of an old Irish toast that goes "....may you be half an hour in heaven before the devil knows you're dead."  With the  film "Doubt" that toast might be "....may you be half an hour happy in bed before you realize the film you've just seen wasn't as great as you thought."
Sometimes it's the drudgery of film criticism to not leave well enough alone.  Most of us genuinely love movies so much that we mull over, chew and spit, and pick apart every film we see.  It's in our nature, I guess. Coincidentally ones nature happens to figure prominently in "Doubt".
Before I start my kvetching on "Doubt" let me state up front that it will deservedly wind up on many ten best lists and most likely garner a gaggle of Oscar noms.  At first glance it's an enthralling morality play with superior actors and tense dialogue and well worth your time.  Unfortunately on a second viewing the seams of "Doubt" begin to show, the performances seem less heady, the profundities not so profound.  It's writ large themes of rigidity of purpose versus progress, moral certitude and questions of faith and sexuality seem more like shooting fish in a barrel.  Any timely paralells to our post 9-11 society become feeble and the ending feels contrived, and don't get me started on the stale symbolism of the reoccuring "wind" motif.  "Doubt" wants desperately to manipulate your emotions and does so to a point.
Written for the screen and directed by John Patrick Shanley and based on his Pulitzer Prize winning play, "Doubt" is set in a Catholic school in 1964 Bronx, where a stern nun and sensitive priest clash after she accuses him of abusing a student.  Perennial award bait Meryl Streep plays Sister Aloysius Beauvier, the strict disciplinarian principal of the school who begins to question the relationship of priest Father Flynn (Philip Seymour Hoffman) with the schools first black student.  The tension increases as Sister Aloysius becomes more convinced something unseemly is happening.
Shanley whose only other directorial effort was 1990's "Joe Versus The Volcano" has had a spotty career.  Mainly a screenwriter he's been responsible for everything from the superior "Moonstruck" and "Five Corners" to the epic man monkey love groaner "Congo",  In "Doubt" he has managed to pull off quite the hat trick,   His direction is reasonably assured and some of the dialogue is truly electric, with Father Flynn's all too brief sermons being memorably riveting.
Hoffman, as usual, gives a powerful performance as the progressive Flynn investing the character with equal parts sensitivity and authority.  Streep's Sister Aloysius is a more prickly matter.  There's a fine line between caricature and character and she barely manages to avoid the edge.  Her character feels a bit overbaked, though Catholic school kids might beg to differ.  Her hard nosed portrayal is scarily Puritanical.
However, "Doubt" is ulimately anchored by things other than the two powerhouse leads.  The evocative cinematography by the venerable Roger Deakins opens up the stagebound poceedings with rich colors in interior shots and the chilly hues of winter for the outdoor scenes.
The sets and costumes are top notch also, as is the stirring score provided by Howard Shore.
The supporting players include scene stealers Amy Adams as a naive young nun who inadvertently feeds Streep's fire and soon realizes things are spinning out of control.  Someone please give this remarkable actress a meaty leading role.  Viola Davis as the boy's mother literally overpowers Streep in her short time on screen.

Perhaps my major fault with "Doubt" is the fault of major movies in general.  The feeling that no one really works that hard anymore to make truly "emotive" cinema.  Thus when a better than mediocre drama like "Doubt" comes along it's manna from heaven for a "meaningful" film starved public.

                                                   RATING 2 1/2 BANANAS

DEEP WATER [2006]

Herman Melville once wrote, "At sea a fellow comes out. Salt water is like wine, in that respect".     These lofty words perhaps explain what has driven some men since  the beginning of time to take to the ocean, making  desperate voyages against impossible odds.  Self-discovery aside, more realistic motivations have included greed, wild ambition, and simply escape.  For whatever reason, the adventurous spirit present in tales of the sea has long been fodder for the imaginations of us all.
So what do we make of Donald Crowhurst?  What posessed a soft-spoken middle aged British family man, with little or no sailing experience, to undertake a journey that at the very least was fraught with danger and at worst could prove deadly?  Was it a boyhood fantasy coming to fruition or the ill fated result of pride gone horribly awry?  These questions and more are examined in the enthralling  documentary on Crowhurst, Deep Water, by film makers Louise Osmond and Jerry Rothwell.
Britain in 1968 saw a public enamored of larger than life adventurerers.  Sir Francis Chichester had become a national hero by being the first man to circumnavigate the globe solo.  His accomplishment had also filled the coffers of many a backer.   It had also fattened the bank accounts of many a newspaper, that had followed his progress with people pleasing press releases filled with purple prose.  Sensing a good thing, the Sunday Times announced a daring contest, open to all comers.  Dubbed the Golden Globe Race, the Times was offering a then hefty sum of 5000 pounds to any sailor who could not only duplicate Chichester's feat, but do it "non-stop".  There would be a cash prize for both the first finisher and the sailor with the fastest time overall.  Contestants could set sail anytime after June 1st but no later than October 31st, the deadline for hitting the waves.
Eight seasoned risk takers signed up, including sea hardened Rodney Knox-Johnston, Nigel Tetley, and Bernard Moitessier.  The press and public were beside themselves with anticipation.  However, they went positively apopletic when out of nowhere everyman Donald Crowhurst quietly tossed his cap into the ring.  Working class Crowhurst, pale and slighty pudgy, was far from the picture of a mighty hero.  Having done unremarkable stints in both the Army and RAF, and trying and failing at many businesses, he bought nothing to the table save for "stiff upper lip" British can-do spirit.  This "common man"  was golden, and the media howled with excitement.
Enter millionaire businessman and armchair sailing enthusiast Stanley Best.  Quick to bankroll Crowhurst's quest he also signed a rather naive Crowhurst to a contract stating that Donald would be responsible for paying for the boat to be built should he withdraw from the race.  Thus a somewhat dodgy pipedream became a harsh reality of financial ruin for Crowhurst.  Adding to the pressure was ex Fleet Street reporter Rodney Halworth who was hired as press agent to hype Crowhurst's exploits.  The media machine was in motion.
Problems arose from the beginning.  The construction was slow and the end result was at best mediocre.  Imagine a toothpick raft with a paper sail tossed into an olympic sized swimming pool and you get the idea.  As all the other contestants had long ago set sail the deadline approached with Crowhurst seemingly dead in the water.  Details were skipped and corners were cut in order to meet the launch date.  The small boat was christened in late October, with the bad omen of the champagne bottle having to be broken by hand.
Thus on the eve of October 30th, after crying in his wife's arms for most of the night, Crowhurst sat on the beach with his best friend and decided to give up.  Best and Halworth, dollar signs for eyes, were having none of this quitting however, and with veiled threats forced Crowhurst to continue.  With thoughts of his own struggling father, and the shame of having his family left poor, an outwardly cheerful Crowhust was off.
Immediately leaks sprung and bolts popped, but Crowhurst's transmissions home remained upbeat.  His journals told a different story, however, showing a man already crumbling under the indifference of the mighy ocean, and barely two months out he hatched a desperate plan that sealed his tragic fate.  He decided to simply lie about his progress.  Radioing that he has sailed 243 miles in 24 hours, a new record, he was, in reality, languishing in the North Atlantic going nowhere near the dangerous Southern ocean.  Maintaining radio silence for 11 weeks, his plan was to rejoin the race after his fellow competitors round Cape Horn, coming in third or fourth, saving some face and hoping that his logs wouldn't be scrutinized too closely.  Twists of fate and creeping dementia intervene and the power of nature prepared to teach Crowhurst a lesson.
Narrated with a measured voice by actress Tilda Swinton, Deep Water reconstructs Crowhurst's fascinating story using his journals and interviewing those involved including Crowhurst's wife Clare and son Simon, whose guilt and sadness have not dimmed in almost forty years.

If nothing else, Deep Water shows that no one ever truly "conquers" the sea, and that sometimes there is a fine line between Cosmic awareness and insanity and only a hair's breadth between a fool and a hero.

                                                      RATING:  4 BANANAS

CHARLIE BARTLETT [2008]

I think I may have figured out what happened to writer Gustin Nash, the first time scribbler of the  film "Charle Bartlett".  Instead of playing classical music or reading great works of literature to him while in the womb, Mother Nash must have slapped the headphones on her belly and barraged poor baby with every teen misfit '80's movie ever made.  Nothing else would seem to explain the trite debacle that became "Charlie Bartlett".  That, coupled with producers who were possibly hungrily looking for the next indie charmer like "Little Miss Sunshine" or "Juno", makes "Bartlett" seem like yet another pale copycat where "quirkiness" substitutes for imagination and fails to carry a film.
A cliche stuffed creampuff filled with the John Hughes filmography and a dash of "Pump Up The Volume",  "Charlie Bartlett" follows the smart aleck adventures of the teen miscreant title character as his expulsions from various prep schools lands him in that Dante's Inferno known as public high school.  As rich kid Charlie saunters in that first day with his preppy blazer and tie we head down that well travelled teen film highway, falling into every trope filled pothole along the way.
We know Charlie will become an immediate target for abuse, but with that twinkle in his eye we also know that sassy Chuck will somehow prevail using his entrepreneur wits and smirky sense of humor.  He will win over the student body and wind up with the wise beyond her years hottest girl in school.  Anyone who ever suffered a beatdown in the school cafeteria for being "different" knows this happens all the time.
After a few anarchistic pranks, such as getting his bully to pass out Ritalin at a school dance (one of the few semi-funny moments), Charlie, who is no stranger to psychiatry, hits on the money-making idea of becoming the psuedo school psychologist to the students.  Evaluating their symptons, he goes to his own doctor exhibiting the same troubles and thus gets medication to dispense to his "patients".  Along the way he attracts the attention of the suspicious principal and also his comely daughter.  He becomes the most popular kid in school and heads for a showdown with the principal.
The basic premise of Charlie Bartlett could have been ripe ground for a pathos filled revisionist teen flick but instead collapses under its stale dialogue and groan inducing "emotional" moments.  You can rarely mix "wink,wink" with "tear,tear" and come up with anything but "retch, retch".
The cast also proves to be a hit or miss affair.  Young Anton Yelchin, promising enough in "Hearts in Atlantis", plays Charlie like Doogie Howser channeling Christian Slater.  He quickly becomes cloying and viewers will be hard pressed not to want to get their hands around his throat by films end.  Considering he has to carry the film, his annoying voice and mannerisms are deadly.
Hope Davis as Charlie's dippy mother and Robert Downey, Jr. as the principal with issues of his own turn in sincere performances much better than their paper thin characters deserve.
Editor turned director Jon Poll brings such a ham fist to the proceedings that he should probably not quit his day job just yet.
The most puzzling thing about Charlie Bartlett, however, is its R rating.  Though there is a flash of nudity and a few "F" words thrown about it's overall a relatively squeaky clean affair.  It seems the best audience for "Charle Bartlett" would be non-discriminating 14 year olds living under rocks.  Adults will find its mixed message drug themes and lackadasical view of teen sex troubling, while older teens will surely find it unrealistic and far too "precious".
In 2008, problem plagued teens and cash strapped moviegoers were owed something more than this hackneyed retro pyscho-babble waste of celluloid.

                                                    RATING:  2 BANANAS

CASSANDRA'S DREAM [2007]

With his effort "Cassandra's Dream", it's becoming alarmingly official.  Woody Allen is dangerously close to being the directorial equivalent of seventies Elvis.  Self important and self indulgent he's singing the same old songs over and over, albeit with some flair but very little substance.
Allen, who sometimes wears his filmic influences on his sleeve seems to be striving for a work that is one part Technicolor Hitchcock, one part talky French melodrama, and one part dire Eastern European tragedy,  The end result is a dreary dull mess that rarely rises above high-school play intensity.
You see this is a "serious" Woody Allen film, and seldom does a more pretentious beast stalk the silver screen.
The third installment in his current British oeuvre, and the first with a strictly European cast, "Cassandra's Dream" tries to recapture the old "Crimes And Misdemeanors" magic, but like the King slurring the words to "My Way" in his final days it comes off forced and sloppy.
The tale of two Cockney brothers whose lifestyles lead them into crime the film shoots for Dostoevskyian heights while wallowing in London lows.  Ewan McGregor plays Ian, the "flash" brother.  Overly ambitious and overly eager to impress he's a money hungry schemer who is constantly living way beyond his means.  When he meets vacuous actress Ashley Stark (Hayley Atwell), a girl with "wicked dreams", he must keep the cash flowing in order to breathe in her rareified air.
Colin Farell is Terry the "common" brother.  A grease-monkey gambler he has recently purchased a boat, the "Cassandra's Dream" of the title, with his dog track winnings.  Feeling as if he's on a sure thing winning streak, this melancholy mechanic proceeds to lose an obscene amount of money in a poker game.  With a wife to support and a life-threatening debt over his head he is in  trouble with a capital rubble.
Thus the stage is set for Woody's pseudo Greek tragedy to unfold.  Enter stage left Uncle Howard (Tom Wilkinson).  A mysterious icon of success within the family, Howard seems to be the answer to the hermanos con problemas prayers.  Alas, it becomes apparent that Howie is not exactly a paen of virtue himself, and stands to lose his own shirt due to nefarious business practices.  He offers the brothers a deal-  he will shower them with riches and all they have to do in return is a wee little favor...let's say ummm...murder a pesky colleague.  They are family after all and the only ones he can trust.  The way they deal with the situation and the aftermath of their actions form the moral crux of the film.  Blood turns to poison and the brothers fates are sealed.
The problem with Cassandra's Dream is that it is relentlessly tedious.  Particularly coming after Sidney Lumet's excellent "Before The Devil Knows You're Dead" the year before, which dealt much less heavy handed with the same themes.   Allen peppers his script with hints at philosophical depth but it rings as hollow as some pontificating poser who just read "Neitzsche For Dummies".
 Aside from Wilkinson who infuses Howard with equal parts menace and desperation, the performances are equally tiresome and troubling.  From their questionable Cockney accents to their nonexistent chemistry McGregor and Farrell are singulary awful.  McGregor plays Ian like some jolly orphan in an off-Broadway production of "Oliver!".  Apparently pleased as punch to be in an Allen film, one expects him to break into a little jig at any moment saying "sweep yer chimney guv'ner?"
Farrell playing the downtrodden Terry has too much of a twinkle in his smiling Irish eyes to be convincing.  Who knows, maybe he was blotto the whole time.
The only high points are the alternating luxurious and drab cinematography by the venerable Vilmos Zsigmond and the struggling electronic score by Philip Glass that vainly tries to heighten tension where there is none.

Cassandra's Dream is a film that literally talks itself to death.  This "dream" is an insignificant trifle masquerading as high drama- it's content forgotten once you wake up and leave the theatre.

                                                   RATING:  2  BANANAS

BEFORE THE DEVIL KNOWS YOU'RE DEAD [2007]

Often when determining "great" directors, film scholars tend to lean toward the eccentric geniuses, the Coppolas, the Kubricks, the Fellinis.  This focus on directors that make visionary epics painted on broad canvases and who take years to finish a project sometime overshadow the lesser "greats".  The directors who consistently turn out a film every year or two just because they seemingly are truly in love with the craft of moviemaking.  Directors like Robert Altman, who we also lost so recently, who were not above tossing out a dud every so often and even God forbid, working in television.  Workaholics who couldn't stop making movies if their lives depended on it. Sidney Lumet was one "those" great directors.  He had his rough patches, particularly in the late '80's and through the '90's, (Stranger Among Us, anyone?), but  also gave us certifiable masterpieces like Dog Day Afternoon and Network, indelible portraits of people in crisis rushing headlong into the inevitability of their actions.
Though there are no iconic "mad as hell" or "Attica! Attica!" moments in Lumet's last film Before The Devil Knows You're Dead, the queasy intimacy of being privy to the most private of feelings has been rendered here perhaps more acutely than in even those more accomplished works.
  Ostensibly a best laid plans of mice and men tale, Before The Devil Knows You're Dead strips the caper film of it's flash and concentrates on  the pungent  emotions of it's execution and aftermath, slowly peeling the participants down to their raw essence.
The "mouse" in this melodrama is Hank played by Ethan Hawke, and the "man" is Andy played by Philip Seymour Hoffman.  Andy is a payroll accountant in a large real estate firm who besides supporting a high maintenance wife, is living way beyond his means, skimming from the company to also support  a drug habit and his visits to an expensive male prostitute.  Hank is beyond even knowing what his means are, and is a feckless loser everyman who owes his ex-wife thousands in back child support.  What binds these two characters together is not the fact that they are brothers, there is no sense of love here, but the fact that they are desperate men.  We are never shown how they got to this point but thrust full force into the immediacy of their situation.  Andy, the dominant big brother, has a plan for a robbery and recruits baby Hank to perform it.  This is no elaborate big-budget bank heist, but simply a mom and pop jewelry store that sits next to a Foot Locker in a strip mall. That mom and pop actually are mom and pop doesn't bother amoral Andy in the least, who assures Hank that their parents are covered by insurance and that it's a sure bet that it's the perfect crime.
To say that things go horribly awry is an understatement, and Lumet uses the botched robbery trope as an excuse to examine the nature of intimacy, or lack thereof, to propel the film into the primitive templates of a Biblical or Greek tragedy.  Rarely has a film been so "cold around the heart" as this one while still riveting the viewer to the characters.
It's no surprise that Lumet was known as the "actors director" as he coaxed award worthy performances out of the stars in these unlikable roles.  Hoffman who is fast becoming one of our greatest living actors infuses Andy with a perfect balance of pathos and control.  Hawke who can be a one-note performer, here does a masterful job as the weak and haggard Hank, doing the slow burn to a patented Lumet unravelling.  Marisa Tomei as Andy's wife and Albert Finney as their father are also at the top of their game.
Heady themes aside, the film is also a marvel in the way it's technical elements come together.  Lumet pretty much hauled the whole crew over from his cancelled highly under-rated TV show 100 Centre Street, and their harmony is evident from the stunning claustrophobic photography and editing to the effectively tense soundtrack.
Ultimately Before The Devil Knows You're Dead is the filmic equivalent of Eliot's poem The Hollow Men that states "between the idea and the reality...between the motion and the act...falls the Shadow"  And like the world in the poem the film ends "not with a bang but with a whimper" in a moment between a father and a son that is shocking in that it's probably the closest they have ever been.

Lumet parades these "hollow men" in front of us, showing their despair and emptiness, and yet seldom does a film seem this full.  It's to Lumet's credit that as one of the "greats" he gave us one last lesson in how it should be done.

                                                      RATING: 4  BANANAS

A MIGHTY HEART [2007]

Sadly, there are two huge factors that cast a pall over the  Michael Winterbottom film, A Mighty Heart, and render it perfunctory rather than powerful.
The first and foremost is the subject matter itself.   A Mighty Heart is based on the book of memoirs by Mariane Pearl, wife of slain Wall Street Journal reporter Daniel Pearl, and his ghost looms large over the proceedings.  Kidnapped while chasing a story in Pakistan on shoe-bomber Richard Reid, his barbaric and shocking death at the hands of Pakistani Islamic extremists brought the all too real horrors of the analog world into the digital landscape.  An execution viewed at the click of a mouse is both repulsively intimate and de-sensitizingly distancing at the same time.  Dramatising such  tragically true events is a questionable undertaking in anyone's hands, no matter how tastefully it's handled.  The reek of exploitation still escapes from the prettiest of boxes, even though Winterbottom has done his best to give us one fine looking box.  Focusing on the plight of Mariane Pearl in the days after Daniel's kidnapping, the film casts Angelina Jolie in the role of Mariane who was pregnant at the time the sad events unfolded.  She is shot positively Madonna like with soft lights and  a saintly glow.  The story is beautifully photographed to be sure, yet the mood of the film is so portentuous and reverent that it manages to undermine any real emotional impact.  We all know how this story ends and even though it's thankfully not shown, the uneasy anticipation of a snuff film remains.
The second distracting factor is the prescence of Jolie, herself.   Though she acquits herself admirably, her mega-celebrity follows her into the part.  Even though she's obviously had an excellent dialect coach and make-up man, one is always acutely aware that it's Angelina Jolie playing Mariane Pearl.  She just can't seem to truly inhabit the role.  It's not for lack of trying, though.  When she first hears of Daniel's death she literally howls and bangs around in a Method-acting frenzy that lasted so long it was squirm inducing, rather than moving.  Overall, though, her casting and mostly stoic performance further blunt any real feeling.
The film does have it's strong points. The frustrating web of suspects, alliances, and the subsequent confusion are effectively portrayed.  The editing is at times startling and immediate.  The streets of Kurachi are shot with a  claustrophobia that convey a disconcerting sense of literally searching for a needle in a haystack.  The supporting cast is admirable, particularly Bollywood star Irfan Khan as the Captain of the Pakastani investigators.  (However the normally fine Will Patton playing the sunglass and earring wearing US Embassy liason seems to think he's auditioning for the latest Die Hard movie.)
Winterbottom is fine when directing with a lighter touch see 24 Hour Party People and Tristam Shandy: A Cock And Bull Story, but not so good with politics see Welcome to Sarajevo. The many pertinent issues A Mighty Heart could have addressed are merely hinted at.  The way the media can be an agent for positive change or a tool of brutality, the complexities of fundamentalism and politics in the modern world, etc.  Also,  the disturbing question remains-was Jewish Pearl bravely pursuing a worthy story no matter the consequences, or unfortunately  naively placing himself and his family at risk by purposefully being in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Ultimately the film leaves one wishing Pitt/Jolie would have bankrolled a comphrehensive documentary that not only focused on the real Pearls but the 200+ journalists that have been kidnapped since 2002.  Though in the right place, A Mighty Heart that should beat with sound and fury, simply flatlines.
                                                    RATING: 2  BANANAS

2 DAYS IN PARIS [2007]

Marketing ploys to the contrary, the Julie Delpy film by  2 Days In Paris is not a "romantic" comedy. Those expecting another Before Sunrise or Before Sunset are apt to be disappointed. However, those jaded few who would like some cynical laughs at love will find much to enjoy. Delpy and co-star Adam Goldberg play Jack and Marion, a fidgety couple on a European jaunt culminating in a visit to her family in the City Of Lights. What is supposed to be everyone's idea of a storybook recipe for passion turns into a nuerosis fueled sojourn that is more Annie Hall than Paris, Je T'aime. In fact 2 Days In Paris is the perfect film for those who miss the Woody Allen films of old, particularly with Goldberg channeling Woody's kvetching persona so effectively.

Though their relationship is only two years old, Jack and Marion's individual quirks are already exacting a toll on their possible future together. She's flighty,emotional and very French. He's a neurotic hypochondriac and very American. Marion wants him to experience the beauty of Paris as a series of bonding episodes while Jack experiences nothing but a series of migraines and nausea. Add an eccentric family and an escalating parade of ex-boyfriends to the mix and Jack's paranoia and neuroses deepen and darken.

Delpy directs 2 Days In Paris with a sure hand, making even the somewhat cliched storyline and fish out of water gags seem fresh again. She also wrote, produced, edited, and did the music. Her most original trick however, is in the casting. Again, like the Woody Allen classics she populates the film with friends and family that lends an easy familiarity to the proceedings. The ethereally beautiful Delphy paired with the dishevelled tattooed Goldberg provides a beauty and the beast chemistry that works amazingly well. The fact that they actually used to be a couple puts an extra sting to their banter, even though Delphy insists there is nothing auto-biographical about the film. She also casts her real parents (Marie Pillet and Albert Delpy), as Marion's folks, and they hilariously steal every scene they're in.

The most amusing aspect of the film, however, is Paris itself. After a spate of recent films celebrating it's virtues, Delpy posits the city as every Francophobe's nightmare. Disgusting food, snooty natives, and an endless parade of racist and or lascivious taxi drivers are ripe fodder for some of best comic moments. Though some of the jokes are delivered in broad strokes the overall mood is winning and more importantly laugh out loud funny. There's some dramatic insight to be had here, but the emphasis is on light, though decidely adult, comedy.

2 Days In Paris is a satisfying confection of l'amour that will have many of us chuckling knowingly. Here's hoping Delpy has more treats to come.

                                                     RATING: 3  BANANAS