D.C. MOVIE GUYS

Bill’s Review
Much has been written and more speculated about the ongoing travails of long-time head rat wrangler at Disney Corp., Michael Eisner. Very little of it is on point in that Eisner has made few decisions that were not made with the full approval of all the current naysayers. Most of them just quibble about bad results and are using various wedges to get the odious Mr. Eisner out so as to increase their own control. But were there any true justice, Michael Eisner would be stripped of his golden parachute and shoved out the door for being the CEO of a company that could regularly release drivel like the recent remake of Around the World in 80 Days. Only Eisner’s head on a pike at the entrance to the Magic Kingdom could possibly expiate the sins against all that is good and worthy that he is responsible for.
Think I exaggerate? They did not just waste the talents of people like Jules Verne (author of original source material), director Frank Coraci (director of The Wedding Singer), supporting player Jim Broadbent (an Oscar-winning actor), and lead actor Steve Coogan (Phileas Fogg here, but seen to better use in 24 Hour Party People). They even wasted the more difficult to locate worthiness of Jackie Chan (martial arts stunt man turned occasionally comical actor) and Arnold Schwarzenegger (body builder turned joke). Why should Michael Eisner be let off the hook for this? Does no one take responsibility for such actions?
Say what you will about Mike Todd’s cameo-laden travelogue of an earlier movie, but at least MT knew how to give everybody a good time (especially Elizabeth Taylor). In 2004, the locations appear to be few enough to be counted on one hand and instead of the star-studded cameo list of the 1956 Oscar-winner, we get a sparse few that only rises above the level of Rob Schneider at the very end when Kathy Bates hops in as Queen Victoria. And unlike MT, ME’s gang of hired idiots (chiefly script typists David Titcher, David Benullo, and David Allen Goldstein—imagine three Davids when what they really need is one Solomon) does not even appear to appreciate the terrific story that Verne gave them.
As created by Verne, Phileas Fogg is an unflappable English gentleman of the Victorian era. As played by David Niven in 1956, Fogg was confident of his knowledge and the inherent superiority of the British-bred, Oxford-educated man whose soul and spirit provided the backbone of the empire upon which the sun was unable to set. Steve Coogan’s Fogg appears to be no better than a runner-up for the 1971 upper class twit of the year. Rather than the evenings in the club, tea precisely at four man of leisure, the new Fogg appears to have seen Chitty Chitty Bang Bang a few times too often and spends his day with a bunch of inventions that appear to owe more to Goldberg than Edison.
Rather than setting out on his global circumnavigation simply to prove that courtesy of the new trans-Indian railroad, one could circle the earth in 80 days, this foggier Fogg hopes to gain a place in the royal science academy unmerited by his actual accomplishments. Unlike Groucho Marx, the real Phileas Fogg would never belong to any club that would not want him as a member.
And each of the very few stops on the 80-day jaunt is merely an excuse to give Jackie Chan a few action bits. As Passepartout, Chan actually provokes the wager as a ruse so that he can return a re-stolen jade Buddha to his village in China. Still, successfully traversing the globe in 80 days is pretty impressive since they spend the first half of the movie barely getting to Constantinople (misidentified in this 19th century-set movie as Istanbul). There is a bit of silliness about Chinese warlords and because this is a 21st century action picture, the intrepid inspector Fix who is usually portrayed as well-intentioned and dogged in his pursuit of those he believes to be fleeing miscreants has here become a corrupt bumbler who exists only to pop up at inopportune moments and get whacked in the naughty bits.
If you could not tell so far, the resulting product is a rather tedious test of the audience’s ability to once more watch action gags that already been wrung free of laughs the first 50 times they were done.
So I say to the fellows at the Disney board of directors: By all means, let us get out the long knives and meditate on Michael Eisner’s future. But let the bill of particulars lead off with such crimes against humanity as his film division produces movies such as Around the World in 80 Days.

Turner Classic Movies (you should not be watching movies on television, but if you have to, you could do worse than Turner Classics) recently devoted a month to the career of Cary Grant. As someone who has seen a few dozen of Mr. Grant’s movies, you can ally me with the film-going faction who counts him as one of the best (if not the best) motion picture actors of all time. In a filmography quite profuse with four-star movies, one from the so-so category is Night and Day, a faux bio-pic in which Cary plays a character named Cole Porter. The movie has taken on a certain degree of infamy (mostly thanks to Vito Russo’s book The Celluloid Closet and its attendant documentary). It portrayed Mr. Porter in a fashion as romanticized (but nowhere near as clever or risqué) as any of his musical plays and completely ignored his (then) whispered affection for the lads.
Needless to say there is no need for such discretion/fear nowadays and a new Porter bio-pic, De-lovely, directed by Irwin Winkler and written by Jay Cocks does acknowledge Mr. Porter’s extra-marital predilections. But although the marriage between Porter (Kevin Kline) and wife, Linda (Ashley Judd) is not exactly Hollywood picture perfect, she certainly seems to be the main reason that he becomes the celebrated playwright and songsmith. At his earliest, Mr. Porter, an Indiana Ivy Leaguer born to wealth, is first glimpsed as a somewhat dissolute songwriter who possesses a certain drawing room charisma, but little standing outside the party world. It is his meeting with divorcee Linda Lee Thomas (an equally wealthy celebrated hostess) and their subsequent marriage that pushes him to the forefront. At career’s end, Porter will be one of the most accomplished and respected lyricists in 20th century musical theatre
Kevin Kline may be no Cary Grant, but he is not exactly chopped liver either. In fact, Kline brings likeability even to movies that one should know better than to applaud including Mr. Winkler’s own Life as a House (a sentiment drenched as well as uncredited remake of Akira Kurosawa’s Ikiru) and The Emperor’s Club (actually an improvement over the movie it so desperately yearns to be, Dead Poet’s Society). Although best known for his supporting work in The Big Chill, Sophie’s Choice, and A Fish Called Wanda, Kline is a charming and convincing lead.
With a framing story that seems a supernatural version of This is Your Life, host Jonathan Pryce takes an aged Porter backwards. His songwriting takes him from the drawing rooms of high society to triumphs on the Broadway stage to Hollywood—where the movie makes the point that bowdlerized and somewhat dumbed down Cole Porter was more than enough to set the motion picture mogul’s toes a tappin’ (especially MGM’s own Louis B. Mayer). And through it all his greatest triumphs are endorsed, propelled, and applauded by Linda. The movie makes the point that he may have fancied the boys of the chorus, but he never formed any emotional attachment that was stronger than one he shared with the wife staying true to her in his fashion.
Ms. Judd, here momentarily freed from the lifetime contract requiring her to play opposite Morgan Freeman or in thrillers or in thrillers co-starring Morgan Freeman, delivers a terrific performance as Mrs. Porter. We first see her as a divorcee and typical hostess with the mostest. Maybe she could not give her husband everything he needed, but there would probably have been no Cole Porter, the public figure, without her encouragement and love. Judd brings all this love, strength, and joy of spirit to the part without making her some long-suffering martyr.
Irwin Winkler was one of the top producers in Hollywood who with partner Robert Chartoff were the team behind a slew of movies including Rocky, Raging Bull, and The Right Stuff. As a director, Winkler has produced a string of serviceable entertainments of which De-lovely is a prime example. Although the production numbers uniting the cast to sing some Porter standards is a nicely theatrical touch, Mr. Winkler’s real triumphs here seem to be a producer’s successes: casting Kline and Judd; putting together a package for the cash-strapped (and nearly out of business) MGM to distribute; and convincing a slew of contemporary recording artists such as Alanis Morrisette and Elvis Costello to contribute their vocal talents to the picture as well as the soundtrack album.
Although Kline and Judd are the movie’s most visible assets, whatever legacy it has is to remind another generation of the song styling of Cole Porter. And isn’t that just De-lovely or is it the tops?

Bill’s Review

Although critics love to carp about how bad the summer megabuck releases are, there is usually a baseline of cruddiness that they are unable to sink below. Even when such projects are hopelessly contrived, completely unwarranted by their initial chapters, and/or incompetently perpetrated, they are usually solid enough bits of entertainment with at least a modicum of charm leached from their more popular (and, often, better made predecessors). But then there is a movie like The Chronicles of Riddick and standards head for the sewer. It is difficult to recall a sequel this lacking in entertainment; which is a bit of a surprise considering that the first movie was not half bad.
A few years back, Vin Diesel made a sci-fi cheapie named Pitch Black. Set a few centuries in the future, a spaceship is stranded on a desert world that, thanks to multiple stars, is almost perpetually in the light. But wouldn’t you know, the ill-fated cast just happens to show up on the day (or night) when the planet enjoys total darkness. Luckily, the ship is carrying a convict (VD) who can see in the dark and he will lead the escape effort as the planet’s beasties come out to hunt. Leaving aside how night hunters evolved on a planet that seems very well lit and devoid of much for them to live on, the movie turned out to be passably acceptable. And when Diesel became an action star, just about every one of his previous efforts with the exception of Saving Private Ryan tried to cobble together a sequel and the money to pay Mr. D’s now $20 million salary. This is the movie he chose to do instead of The Fast and the Furious sequel. Think worse than 2 Fast 2 Furious if your mind can appreciate such minutia.
The Chronicles of Riddick picks up five years later. Riddick is still a fugitive, but now there is an extra price on his head. It turns out some people just want to set up a meet and figured to waste money on bounty hunters rather than just searching themselves—and this is the plot’s intellectual high point. Figuring that one loses brain cells both watching as well as recounting what in other movies would be called the story, I will attempt concision. Nasty fellows called Necromongers attack entire worlds, convert the populace to their ill-defined religion, kill anyone who resists, and leave a bunch of ugly, skyscraper-sized idols behind while making their way towards some equally ill-defined Valhalla. The religion appears to attack the speech centers resulting in characters that mouth pretentious incoherencies. The responsible virus is so severe that it even turns Judi Dench into a jabbering imbecile.
Luckily, the time that many movies waste on narrative and character development is put into fight sequences and special effects, so audiences can plan on being entertained for perhaps five of the movie’s 130 minutes.
One can only hope that supporting players like Dench, Thandie Newton, Linus Roche, and Colm Feore were nearly as well compensated as Vin and that they can now live off their Riddick checks while doing actual movies like the ones where we have actually seen them do some acting. As for Vinny, he owes everyone better efforts than manure like The Chronicles of Riddick. He seems to have some ability to be more than just the lighting double for the stunt men or the space holder for the CGI technicians. Audiences have already embraced him as the next big action star, but he owes them more than The Chronicles of Riddick. This movie is beneath even the acting abilities of Jean Claude Van Damme.