D.C. MOVIE GUYS

Bill’s Review
While the return of Jason Bourne in The Bourne Supremacy may be adequate summer movie fare, it is sad to see that the second time into the breach is such a comedown from the smart entertainment that was The Bourne Identity. Worse, some strategic errors made fairly early on combined with a change in the directors (as well as direction) do not give much hope that this series will ever ascend to its previous heights.
There is little of novelist Robert Ludlum left in The Bourne Supremacy. Although the first movie substantially changed the character to accommodate star Matt Damon (still great, but with far too little to do), it was still in the realm of the likely as a wounded amnesiac is nursed back to health, but as he tries to uncover the truth of his life turns out to have been a member of a secret squad of government-run assassins. A leftover element from the second book is the set-up in which a faux Jason Bourne has re-emerged and now the real Jason Bourne (who is not even really Jason Bourne) has to come out of retirement to solve the mystery. Jason (Damon) and his lady rescuer from the first movie, Marie (Franka Potente), have retired to seaside India (not my first choice, but hey, it is his retirement). Meanwhile, a CIA info buy is going bad and a fingerprint left at the scene points to Bourne. Coincidentally, an assassin tries to kill Bourne, but only gets the girl. Now this whole scenario only works if the CIA is really stupid or if they are just relieved to get Bourne out of the way. What the audience and the movie spooks have to believe is that somebody who does not make mistakes makes an elementary one and at almost the same time nearly dies thousands of miles away. That our spy group (led by Joan Allen) does not immediately think frame job makes the viewer think that they are as dumb as screenwriter Tony Gilroy (whose work was so much cleaner and smoother on The Bourne Identity). The Bourne-again Gilroy we get here is the guy who wrote Armageddon and Bait rather than the fellow who adapted Identity and Dolores Claiborne (or is that Dolores Clai-bourne?).
This J.B. is not the fractured fellow that we met two years ago. Though still troubled by nightmares (most ominously a mission he cannot quite remember), he is more on top of things and if he is not exactly enthusiastic to be back in the saddle, it does not show in the results. The rather lame set-up is just an excuse to propel Jason back into the life and much of the movie is little more than a cycle of action sequence, miraculous escape, and filler chatter. The movie further blunders by taking a previously dispatched character (and an Oscar winner, no less) and turning him from zealous in his misguided patriotism (perfect given what has already been established) and making him corrupt (makes little sense in light of the earlier movie). More likely than a character change is that this is just poor plotting.
Getting rid of Potente so early is bad on a number of levels. In Ludlum’s version, the abduction of Marie is needed to get Jason Bourne back in the game and give him a prize worth playing for (rather than just killing everyone). Her elimination here means that Jason is fighting only for vengeance (a movie staple, but essentially pointless). Further, it also strips this movie of something that had worked so well in the first—allowing Damon to develop the character and uncover the truth to his background in scenes and dialogue with Marie. Diminished though he is, Damon is a more than capable enough actor to provide this movie with a substantial bit of zip, but he is as undercut by his director and screenwriter when they assisted him in the previous chapter.
Replacing Doug Liman at the helm is Paul Greengrass, best known as the director of the mock documentary Bloody Sunday. Unfortunately, he has brought over some of the hand-held camera work used on that movie. In that movie, it aided the illusion that what we were seeing was from the point of view of telejournalists following the story. Used in The Bourne Supremacy, the shaky cameras only serve to let me know that the cameraman is chasing Matt Damon or Joan Allen.
Worse are Greengrass’ compositions during the action sequences. The movie is at its least impressive during a standard issue car chase (and much less exciting than the one in Ronin which this one tries to duplicate). The quick edits and claustrophobic set-ups only leave the viewers confused rather than excited.
The Bourne Supremacy is not horrible, it is just disappointing, especially in light of what a solid thriller was produced the first time. As for the future, they ought to just leave Jason Bourne alone and let him stay retired.

Bill’s Review

Although Selena Kyle (et.al.) a.k.a. The Catwoman has enjoyed many spin-off tales while taking time off from tangling with Batman in comic book adventures, a movie featuring only her might be considered a tough sell. What, the outraged millions (OK thousands) cry? No Batman, no Julie Newmar or Michelle Pfeiffer, not even Commissioner Gordon; how can you do a Catwoman movie without any of them?
Well, it turns out that though Oscar winner Halle Berry has not donned the mask and black leather cat suit to play the Catwoman, but rather just a catwoman in Catwoman. Selena Kyle is nowhere in sight and Patience Phillips (Berry) seems to have more Spider-Man in her than any DC Comics anti-heroine. Patience is a graphic artist working for the cosmetics company run by the Hadares (he, Lambert Wilson, the evil capitalist and, she, Sharon Stone, the evil model/spokesperson/corporate wife/iconic face of the company). With a new miracle product, Beau-line, about to hit the shelves, Patience is burning the midnight and even delivers the new ad layouts to the factory. But while there Polly hears a little too much about the horrible side effects of Beau-line and faster than you can say “Terminate with extreme prejudice,” there is an opening for a graphic artist at Hadare Beauty.
But despite the best attempts by the stock corporate security sociopaths, Patience survives being flushed out an industrial waste pipe. Maybe survives is the wrong word since it is her dead body that washes up and dead she would stay save a gathering of pussy cats surrounds the prone Patience and one cat reverses the usual cat procedure of sucking the breath out (as cats do to babies) and instead exhales into Patience’s mouth. The disgusting aroma of fish and mice revive her, but with amazing character changes. She is fascinated by bright, shiny objects, is susceptible to catnip, hisses at dogs, always lands on her feet, and keeps a large bowl of yarn and a litter box in her apartment (last two not shown in actual movie). Not knowing where else to turn, Patience follows her familiar to the home of the local cat lady (played by Frances Conroy, the Fisher queen from TV’s Six Feet Under) who tells her that the cats have given her a special gift and with great power comes great responsibilities (speaking of familiar). Of course, our feline fatale will have to be mistaken for the bad girl before movie’s end. The movie may be imaginative looking, though not always elegantly plotted.
Although no Julie Newmar (or Michelle Pfeiffer for that matter), Halle Berry does a great job in the skintight cat suit (and is also pretty good in the scenes out of the cat suit). Stone has only had a lifetime’s experience to work out the characterization of an ex-model bent on world domination, so no surprise there and as for Benjamin Bratt playing a sensitive cop who only wants to find the truth… it appears that not a lot of imagination was put into the casting. Other characters that work despite their obviousness include Wilson as an adulterous Euro-trash villain, the aforementioned Ms. Conroy as a slightly batty, but essentially knowing matron, and Alex Borstein as Berry’s zany gal pal.
This leaves all the more imagination to be put into the CG stunts and the art direction. Making his American movie debut at the helm is Pitof, the one-word nom de cine of a fellow whose most noteworthy previous credits are for doing visual effects on such Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Marc Caro movies as Delicatessen, The City of Lost Children, and Alien: Resurrection. Rather than being badly lit and filled with confusingly composed shots, Pitof’s action scenes are a breath of fresh air after the dreary work of such single-name action directors as McG or Kaos. Some of the most enjoyable bits are just watching Berry enact normal actions with her newly enhanced pussy sense though one wonders why she uses a bullwhip instead of a cat-o-nine tails (homage de Pfeiffer?).
By the film’s end, the true evildoers are vanquished and the Catwoman is free to roam. Now, I just have one question. Where was Batman? Didn’t anyone tell him they were doing this movie so he could put in a cameo for his old nemesis? Was he too busy fighting the Penguin or the Joker? Perhaps these and many other questions will be answered when Batman begins again next summer. So stay tuned: same Bat-time, same Bat-channel. Whether the Catwoman will come back is another matter. Anyone still waiting for the next Jinx movie?

Bill’s Review

In a half-year that has already seen such unendurable kiddie fare/grrl empowerment junk as Sleepover and Catch That Kid, I still believed that the Hilary Duff vehicle A Cinderella Story would stand out. The temptation is to simply give it a zero and move on. But that would be as dishonest as Ms. Duff’s claiming to be an entertainer. I did find some modest enjoyment near the end of this updated Cinderella story. (more…)

BILL’S REVIEW: The Door in the Floor 1/2

One could hardly ask for a better convergence of great acting, storytelling, character, and direction than Tod Williams’ The Door in the Floor. Adapted from the first third of John Irving’s dynamic and engrossing novel A Widow for One Year, the movie is so effortlessly superb that you wonder why so few movies these days reach these heights.

The original setting of 1958 Long Island has been moved to the present where an Exeter student named Eddie O’Hare (Jon Foster, brother of Ben) has taken a summer job at the Hamptons home of acclaimed children’s book writer and illustrator Ted Cole (Jeff Bridges, son of Lloyd, brother of Beau). Little does Eddie know that he has actually come upon Ted at a time when he is on his way to becoming a guy who used to write and illustrate children’s books just as he is about to become the guy who used to be married to Marion Cole (Kim Basinger, former wife of Alec Baldwin). His new writer’s assistant will free Ted up so that he can spend more time attending to his real passions: drinking and debauching lonely housewives. He is currently attending to one Mrs. Evelyn Vaughn (Mimi Rogers, former spouse of Tom Cruise) and so Eddie will also be attending to Marion as well as being a parent and surrogate older brother to the Cole’s surviving child Ruthie (Elle Fanning, younger sister and carbon copy of Dakota).

And that need for a big brother explains Eddie’s addition to this unhappy household. Although the Exeter yearbook is probably filled with blandly handsome candidates, Eddie has a vague resemblance to Ted and Marion two sons, former Exonians who died in a car accident. In addition to finding herself superfluous to her marriage, Marion is finding it increasingly impossible to be a mother to the child she never wanted (an attempt by Ted at a replacement child and as great a success as his career writing novels for adults). Even nanny Alice (Bijou Phillips, daughter of John, stepsister of Mackenzie and Chynna) is no help. The affair between Marion and Eddie is the answer to his prayers and a reinforcement of attraction to her as well as a way of touching her beloved sons albeit in a way that one should not consider too deeply.

Those unconvinced of Basinger’s abilities after her Oscar winning turn in L.A. Confidential (and with scant evidence to bolster it since) should have any such concerns put to rest by her work here. She is stupendous. Despite being nine years older than Irving’s description, she seems perfect in every way. Her Marion is devastatingly beautiful and still haunted by her traumatic loss unable to move forward in her old life. Her damaged being does not echo in uncharitable behavior towards others, but seems so weighty that it is trapped in her very person unable to escape or dissipate or heal. That Bridges is great should be no surprise, but what is that with this movie following on the heels of Seabiscuit, he is finally getting roles commensurate with his ability. Although softened from the book’s Ted, Bridges does not allow the audience to forget that behind the engaging manner and amiable grin, there lies a selfish jerk—even a borderline sociopath who seduces, degrades, and rejects.

John Irving has stated that The Door in the Floor (the title is taken from one of Ted’s nightmare-ensuring children’s books) is the best and most faithful version of one of his books ever made and it is tough to argue with that. Certainly making the movie using only the mostly self-contained first act certainly seemed a smart strategy for working with Irving’s hefty (and rewarding) plot- and character-dense novels. After the 13-year debacle in getting The Cider House Rules to the big screen as detailed in his book My Movie Business: A Memoir (an Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay hardly seems reward enough), this must have seemed a positive walk around the block for a man who is one of America’s greatest living writers.

Director Williams and cinematographer Terry Stacey (American Splendor) have also delivered a beautiful looking movie despite the obviously inappropriate Hamptons foliage betraying a shoot that probably did not take place during the book’s summer-set season. That these people who live in such opulence and yet are so miserable is an irony not unknown to Irving’s work.

Another recognizable Irving trademark that Williams fully exploits is the tendency to go for the belly laugh even when things are at their most horrific—especially during the movie’s second half as Marion decides what to do. Williams is further to be congratulated for getting so much of Irving’s rich characterizations so spot on even in the supporting roles. Chief among these is Donna Murphy as the frame store owner where Eddie goes to rescue the one picture of her mother and dead brothers that Ruthie will get to sustain her to adulthood. The scene with Murphy (who will become the second of Eddie’s older lovers when he takes a summer job with her in the unfilmed future world of A Widow for One Year) is particularly emblematic of Williams’ new-found subtlety. His first movie The Adventures of Sebastian Cole certainly had some Irvingesque qualities to it, but this is such an advancement over that maiden effort as to seem the work of another filmmaker. Maybe it is the difference between having source material from John Irving as opposed to source material created by Tod Williams.

The most overrated of the many comedians to make their way from Saturday Night Live to the big screen, Will Ferrell makes his star vehicle debut in Anchorman—The Legend of Ron Burgundy. But as with his work on SNL, a little bit of Ferrell goes a long way and this modestly satirical comedy is nowhere near as funny as its makers appear to think it is.
Ferrell impersonates Ron Burgundy, a ‘70s era local news anchor working in San Diego (“German for whale’s vagina” as the stupid Burgundy helpfully informs a female colleague). His “Newscenter 4” show is the top-rated affiliate news show in those pre-cable times (the other local anchors are a series of cameos by Mr. Ferrell’s former co-stars including Vince Vaughn, Luke Wilson, Ben Stiller, and Tim Robbins) and Ron and the newly hired reporter Veronica Corningstone (Christina Applegate) have hit if off personally. But on the day Ron fails to show for the show (his dog has been punted off a bridge by a biker that Burgundy obliviously assaulted), Veronica fills in and, faster than you can say Eve Harrington, the show’s executive producer (Fred Willard) turns the two Ronnies into co-anchors. Escalating practical jokes finally end with an inadvertent on-air obscenity that sends the co-pilots in separate directions.
Leaving aside that most of the satire is of the “fish in the barrel” variety (who would have thought that the people reading the news are dimwitted airheads—“And this is Ted Baxter saying, ‘Good night and good newts—news’”), the movie could be improved by just having a little more of it. As with other recent SNL alums turned motion picture leading men as Mike Myers and Tim Meadows, their movies are usually little more than one joke told over and again. The supporting players (especially Applegate and Steve Carell as the news team weatherman—Jim Carrey’s rival newscaster from Bruce Almighty) add a little here and there, but we are mostly stuck with Ferrell who becomes as interminable as one of his cheerleader sketches. An extended sequence in which Ferrell (as part of his seduction technique) plays the jazz flute at a club is particularly excruciating.
Will Ferrell is perfectly capable of able support in an ensemble work, but if forced to carry an entire movie, he requires a lot more jokes than this half-baked screenplay by Will Ferrell and director Adam McKay can provide. And since McKay is an old SNL crony of Ferrell’s anyway, it is doubtful that he got the job because of his willingness to stand up to his big star and tell him when he is the only one still laughing.

Joe’s View

1/2

The state of local television news coverage has been a topic of controversy and debate, not to mention critical analysis, for nearly thirty years. Programs that constantly stress the rising level of violence in our cities, “stories” largely constructed and provided to stations by public relation firms and lame, joke laden “happy talk” between anchors and reporters have all become highly visible landmarks of the changing face of local news.
Those changes began for the most part in the 1970’s, an era which always seems ripe for satire and spoofing. Writer/director Adam McKay and actor Will Ferrell, fresh from their surprising success with last year’s “Elf”, would seem to have more than enough talent to bring plenty of laughs to the topic. Unfortunately, the just released “Anchorman” falls far short of the mark, wondering off in a number of directions at once and never establishing a direct line between its jokes, its plot and its characters. There were plenty of targets ripe for plucking, but they scamper away, barely touched.
Ferrell is Ron Burgundy, the highest rated news anchor in San Diego, California in 1972. Burgundy is at the top of the numbers and he and his Channel Four news team are princes of the city. These crazy news boys work hard all day and party hard all night. They’re popular despite the fact that street reporter Brian is a preening bob, sports guy Champ is a monosyllabic know nothing and weatherman Brick, well, lives up to his name. Burgundy is their on and off screen leader, a man of limited vision and even less insight who us certain he is the creator’s gift to women everywhere.
Things begin to take a turn when station management decides to hire a female reporter to meet network goals for diversity. Veronica is blonde, beautiful and no bimbo. Her career goal is to become an anchorwoman, but all management will give her are stories covering local cat fashion shows. The boys on the team don’t care. To them, she’s fresh conquest meat. But when King Burgundy makes his move, he finds he might just be in love. Being the thoughtful and sensitive man he is, Ron promptly damages the relationship by blabbing about it publicly. When Veronica gets an unexpected opportunity to fill in for Ron, she raises the ratings-and the network instructs the station’s news director to make Veronica Ron’s co-anchor. Burgundy-surprise-responds badly, leading to a war of nerves, Ron’s downfall and a final chance at redemption and love. All in just over 90 minutes.
A large part of the problem with “Anchorman” lies in its screenplay, co-written by McKay and Ferrell. Simply put, the film tries to do too much. It’s a spoof of local news teams, a period send-up, screwball romantic comedy and even has a touch of those old fashioned Disney live action animal adventures. Because the movie never concentrates its comic potential on one particular theme or style, it ends up being a scattershot bunch of scenes, many of which trail off with no apparent payoff. They often resemble a “Saturday Night Live” sketch that’s goes on too long. That’s not all that surprising when you remember that Ferrell starred on “SNL” and McKay wrote it for several years.
Ferrell has some amusing moments as Ron Burgundy. The character’s raging ego and inability to consider anyone’s feelings but his own make him an occasionally amusing target for laughs. Applegate seems a bit out of place as the straight arrow Veronica and is given little room to share in the laughs. Paul Rudd, David Koechner and Steve Carell-Brian, Champ and Brick also get a moment or two in the chips, but their scenes are also hit and miss. Perhaps the best part of the film are the cameo appearances by several Ferrell associates, including Vince Vaughn, Ben Stiller, Luke Wilson and Tim Robbins as the leaders of rival news teams. Perhaps more time utilizing the tone and cleverness they bring to the movie would have made it work better.
As it is, “Anchorman” barely reaches the skill level of one episode’s worth of Ted Knight’s endearingly befuddled newsman Ted Baxter on the old “Mary Tyler Moore Show”. (By the way, if you do see the film, ignore Ferrell’s claims that he isn’t doing a riff on Knight-just pay attention to the name of Burgundy’s pet dog.) Certainly, there’s a great film to be made about local television news. Just as certainly, “Anchorman” isn’t it.