Movie Reviews

Add some hair extensions, nail polish, lip gloss and high heels to Barbershop and what do you get, Beauty Shop. Almost identical to its counterpart, Beauty Shop delivers the same feel good do the right thing comedy. Too bad that Queen Latifah’s first true chance at showing her acting chops as the lead is destroyed by a tired already done before (twice before) script. If you enjoyed Barbershop then Beauty Shop is the film to see.

Beauty Shop
2 Stars

(Release Date: March 30)

Add some hair extensions, nail polish, lip gloss and high heels to Barbershop and what do you get, Beauty Shop. Almost identical to its counterpart, Beauty Shop delivers the same feel good do the right thing comedy. Too bad that Queen Latifah’s first true chance at showing her acting chops as the lead is destroyed by a tired already done before (twice before) script. If you enjoyed Barbershop then Beauty Shop is the film to see.

Gina (Queen Latifah) strikes out on her own after a confutation with Jorge (Kevin Bacon) an arrogant salon owner; she finds a way to get a loan and purchases an old 70’s throwback salon. Being a single mom and purchasing an old ran down shop is more than what Gina had expected; she finds herself confronted with temperamental old-timers, electrical problems and a pain in the butt city inspector who is paid off by Jorge to give her a hard time. In the mist of trying to get her daughter through a performing arts school, dealing with the death of her husband and running the shop; the last thing Gina needs is somebody destroying everything she has worked so hard for. Gina’s shop is vandalized and she is on the verge of giving up until she remembers what it’s all about, her daughter and family. Picking herself up off the ground and walking into yet another face lift, thanks to her staff, Gina grabs her happy scissors and gets back to work. Along the way she starts recruiting costumers from Jorge’s shop who adored her and her “crack conditioner” and falls in love with the most gorgeous man, the upstairs electrician, Joe (Djimon Hounsou), who slowly wins her heart. She also gives a good healthy dose of his own medicine back to the flamboyant arrogant Jorge. All ends well that begins rocky in Beauty Shop.

Beauty Shop doesn’t have a great deal of depth to its script, but has plenty of cozy feel good moments. A cast that keeps the youngest audience member entertained and plenty of beat on the Caucasian jokes, most will be pleasantly entertained.

I didn’t expect much from this remake, but I at least hoped that it would have the same level of entertainment value of the 1979 original, and that’s setting the bar mighty low. Bay and Douglas decided that the premise of a truly evil home wasn’t enough, so instead of a gorgeous lakeside Long Island home, the demon house is borderline decrepit and that lessens the atmosphere and effect of finding out your dream home is actually a nightmare. I’m unable to let go of the atrocious use of music in the film, but I’m truly flabbergasted that horror directors continue to rely on cheap music cues to telegraph and emphasis the scares. When William Friedkin made The Exorcist (the only horror film to win an Oscar, no less), he understood that silence is scarier than music as there is absolutely no score for the film, which perfectly heightens the tension and leaves the viewer completely unprepared for the shocks in store. Of course, when you’re scares are as hokey and half-hearted as the Amityville Horror, maybe music is the only crutch available to prop up the flimsy pretense of atmosphere.

Sadly, modern Hollywood is unable to reach that low standard with it’s recent offering of horror films and The Amityville Horror is no exception. Moviegoers made Bay’s previous update The Texas Chainsaw Massacre a moderate success, so much so that a prequel is already in the works, but hopefully moviegoers will send the right message and stay away from this sub-par and aggressively un-entertaining mess of a film. Furthermore here’s hoping that Hollywood will get the message and finally realize that dead-looking little girls with black hair just aren’t scary. I’ll take that creepy redhead teen from Children of the Corn over yet another Sadako clone any day of the week.

The Amityville Horror
2 Stars

1979’s Amityville Horror seems an odd choice for big budget update. The James Brolin / Margot Kidder vehicle was laughably stupid in it’s day, and subsequent revelations about the ‘true story’ aspect make it even more suspect. Never one to be deterred by stupidity nor lack of originality, Michael Bay (Pearl Harbor, Armageddon, Bad Boys 1 & 2) put on his producer hat so that the true evil of Long Island situated Dutch Colonial houses could be announced to the world. Frankly the FM radio hosts of our screening were scarier than anything residing in that spacious lakeside demon house. (Special treat: one of the DJ/MCs might have actually been the Gelfling Jen from The Dark Crystal. I’m glad he’s still able to get work.)

The poster is scarier than this movie. Seriously

In the early morning hours of November 4th, 1974, Ronnie “Butch” DeFeo picked up a .35 caliber rifle and went from room to room of his family’s spacious 112 Ocean Avenue home and murdered his parents and his four siblings. After initially claiming his family was murdered by an angry mob-connected contract killer, Butch confessed and was charged with the murders of his family. His defense put up an insanity defense, but he was eventually convicted of six counts of second-degree murder. In 1976 the Lutz family moved into the former Defeo home, and according to the best selling book, fled in terror not 28 days later from all manner of demonic and ghostly activity.

The newly updated Amityville Horror from producer Bay and director Andrew Douglas recounts the ‘true’ story of the Lutz family and their experiences in that now infamous lakeside home with predictably neo-Horror results. Taking over the James Brolin role as George Lutz is Ryan Reynolds (Blade: Trinity, Van Wilder), who once again proves that he’s often the best thing about the sub-par movies he’s in. Melissa George (Sugar & Spice, Alias) plays his put upon wife Kathy. A trio of previously unknown moppets plays the Lutz brood, and filling out the cast is Phillip Baker Hall as the fly-covered priest (Played by a scenery devouring Rod Stiger in the original). Needless to say, blood drips from walls, furniture moves about of it’s own accord, and CGI technicians have a field day coming up with the shocks and scares which some moron decided to telegraph by a good 30 seconds with obligatory scary music cues.

The only thing that really works in this film is Reynolds’ performance as a good-hearted step dad who’s slowly taken over by the demonic forces of their home. In his pre-posession scenes he’s lighthearted and charming, and his post scenes have the right level of malice and confusion. Sadly, the only real competition he gets in the acting department comes from a KISS loving babysitter (Rachel Nichols) who’s dressed like she’s the 70’s era Stones backstage entertainment only to find out the only action she’s getting is from the malevolent spectra of the DeFeo’s youngest daughter.

The scares are fairly and nonsensical, and in the few instances where they do work their effectiveness is undercut by the obvious music score. There were a number of unintentionally humorous moments in this film, which only proved how inept and ham fisted director Douglas’s attempts at establishing atmosphere truly were. Hollywood can’t seem to keep the working aspects of any original, and Amityville Horror proves the rule by throwing out the original’s explanation of events for a ridiculous third act revelation that turns the film into the fetal-alcohol syndrome child of 13 Ghosts and Poltergeist.

I didn’t expect much from this remake, but I at least hoped that it would have the same level of entertainment value of the 1979 original, and that’s setting the bar mighty low. Bay and Douglas decided that the premise of a truly evil home wasn’t enough, so instead of a gorgeous lakeside Long Island home, the demon house is borderline decrepit and that lessens the atmosphere and effect of finding out your dream home is actually a nightmare. I’m unable to let go of the atrocious use of music in the film, but I’m truly flabbergasted that horror directors continue to rely on cheap music cues to telegraph and emphasis the scares. When William Friedkin made The Exorcist (the only horror film to win an Oscar, no less), he understood that silence is scarier than music as there is absolutely no score for the film, which perfectly heightens the tension and leaves the viewer completely unprepared for the shocks in store. Of course, when you’re scares are as hokey and half-hearted as the Amityville Horror, maybe music is the only crutch available to prop up the flimsy pretense of atmosphere.

Sadly, modern Hollywood is unable to reach that low standard with it’s recent offering of horror films and The Amityville Horror is no exception. Moviegoers made Bay’s previous update The Texas Chainsaw Massacre a moderate success, so much so that a prequel is already in the works, but hopefully moviegoers will send the right message and stay away from this sub-par and aggressively un-entertaining mess of a film. Furthermore here’s hoping that Hollywood will get the message and finally realize that dead-looking little girls with black hair just aren’t scary. I’ll take that creepy redhead teen from Children of the Corn over yet another Sadako clone any day of the week.

While it serves as a serious and intense look into making and mystique of Deep Throat (indeed, they go so far as to include the infamous scene in which Linda Lovelace performs the titular act), the film has no shortage of laugh-out-loud moments. (Again Dick Cavett deserves mention here. His off-the-cuff asides put the current slate of talk-show hosts to utter shame.) In fact, that humor is what ultimately saves the film from it’s half-formed secondary role as a cautionary tale on the effects of a conservative government with it’s sights on freedom of expression which, considering our current political climate, rings true and hollow at the same time.

Inside Deep Throat
4 & 1/2 Stars

The new documentary “Inside Deep Throat” might just be the wiser & hipper cinematic sibling to Paul Thomas Anderson’s debut film Boogie Nights, but where Anderson’s ode to the heydey of big theater porn arrived smack dab in the middle of Bill Clinton’s second term, (among the heady enthusiasm of the Dot Com boom and the continuing fallout of Clinton’s extramarital endeavors), Fenton Bailey and Randy Barbato’s (Eyes of Tammy Faye) docmentary arrives in the midst of a conservative backlash against pop culture and it’s love affair with sex.

What makes Inside Deep Throat all the more unlikely is that it comes from Ron Howard’s Imagine studio, and was produced by his long-time business partner Brian Glazer. Granted HBO Films put up some cash for this one as well, but they’ll fund anything that has to do with strippers, porn stars, or (let’s face it) sluts of both sexes.  (Which reminds me:  If any HBO programming people are reading this, I’d like to talk to you about my idea for an erotic retelling of the formation of the League of Nations starring a variety of strippers, porn stars, and sluts.)

That’s not to say that most famous (and infamous) of porn films, Deep Throat, isn’t worthy of a documentary. On the contrary; made in 6 days and for only $25,000 Deep Throat is conceivably the most profitable film ever made, having raked in a staggering 600 million dollars. Unlike the stag films that begat it, Deep Throat was high-chic for the intelligentsia and social liberals, with everyone from Jack Nicholson to Jackie Onassis packing the seats during it’s Times Square run. It also holds the distinction of being banned in 23 states, and it’s government persecution resulted in the first American court case in which an actor (Harry Reems) was convicted for his part in a motion picture. In fact, the factual account of Deep Throat and its impact on American culture puts modern day ‘losers make it big’ films to shame. Mob violence, protests, courtroom drama, and even a couple of obligatory Behind the Music-esque downfall and recoveries, this is one of the most fascinating stories on modern filmaking ever made.

insert pithy porn joke here

As a documentary, Inside Deep Throat knows the inherent titillation factor of it’s subject matter and frames it appropriately. Fast cuts, porny 70’s graphics, and a soundtrack just chock full of ‘wakki-cha’ guitar combined with the lazy cool of counter-culture icon Dennis Hopper’s voiceover work to make this one of the slickest documentaries in existence. Context and color commentary is provided from a staggering array of famous figures of the intellectual bend like Gore Vidal (of course), Norman Mailer (of course), Camille Paglia, Erica Jong, Carl Bernstein, and Alan Dershowitz. The sheer variety of access given these filmakers is staggering. Nixon prosecutor Charles Keating, Hugh Hefner, Memphis prosecutor Larry Parrish, FBI Agent Bill Purcell, and an incredibly witty Dick Cavett, are just a few more of the talking heads who weigh in on the impact of Deep Throat. There’s big money behind this and it shows. Though for all it’s flash and snap, the heart of this documentary lies in the recollections and lives of those men and women directly responsible for the phenomenon that was Deep Throat.

Gerard Damiano (the director), Harry Reems (the lead actor), production manager Ron Wertheim, and archival clips of the star Linda Lovelace (who died in 2002 from injuries sustained in a car wreck), tell an immensely entertaining and riveting story of some 70’s swingers who just wanted to make movies. With the exception of Lovelace (who testified against the porn industry for two congressional committees as well as in her auto-biography, but later recanted her sentiments and accusations), those involved look back on their experience with fondness and candor (and more than a little regret: None of the principals involved saw more than the tiniest kernel of profit compared to what the film went on to achieve for it’s mob-affiliated owners). The world’s most foul-mouthed location manager steals every frame he’s in with his disgusted and dismissive reminiscing, and a Florida man who distributed the film in the South is constantly upstaged by his wife, who continually chides him for talking about their mob run-ins. While their talk about the artistic value of Deep Throat may seem naive and self-important, these people believed in what they were doing and that conviction comes through.

While it serves as a serious and intense look into making and mystique of Deep Throat (indeed, they go so far as to include the infamous scene in which Linda Lovelace performs the titular act), the film has no shortage of laugh-out-loud moments. (Again Dick Cavett deserves mention here. His off-the-cuff asides put the current slate of talk-show hosts to utter shame.) In fact, that humor is what ultimately saves the film from it’s half-formed secondary role as a cautionary tale on the effects of a conservative government with it’s sights on freedom of expression which, considering our current political climate, rings true and hollow at the same time.

Overall, Inside Deep Throat is an absolute treat of a documentary. After all, what else is the genre for if not for showcasing interesting people telling fascinating stories about a endlessly compelling subject? It also proves how powerful a format documentary filmmaking can be when backed by big studios and all the access and money they can provide. Deep Throat ultimately proved to be an aberration, as porn soon lost it’s chic and celebrity accolades with the advent of VHS and the continuing decline in quality and lightheartedness that followed. Sex still sells, but the only cultural relevance of porn remains in it’s ability to show just how weird and twisted our sexual fantasies can be. But for one brief shining moment average men and women sat beside movie stars and cultural adventurers as Linda Lovelace found her tingler on a 30 foot screen, and that impact is still being felt today. For that reason alone, Inside Deep Throat is worth your time, but if you need another selling point try this: Where else are you going to get the experience of hearing 83 year old writer, magazine publisher, and feminist Helen Gurley Brown talk about rubbing semen all over her face, neck, and breasts? (Note: If you have an answer for that, I don’t want to know it.)

Pure guilty pleasure, Sahara has good looking heroes and plenty of action to keep everybody happy. If scientists could cross bread James Bond and Indiana Jones with a good old southern boy, then Dirk Pitt would be the prize to their efforts. Sahara is completely silly and way out of touch from reality, but then again what do we go to the movies for; it’s a perfect date night film.

Sahara
3 & 1/2 Stars

Pure guilty pleasure, Sahara has good looking heroes and plenty of action to keep everybody happy. If scientists could cross bread James Bond and Indiana Jones with a good old southern boy, then Dirk Pitt would be the prize to their efforts. Sahara is completely silly and way out of touch from reality, but then again what do we go to the movies for; it’s a perfect date night film.

(Release Date: April 8)

Nothing but guilty pleasure here boys and girls. Sahara is an action packed comedy adventure that will take you on an adrenaline high. It’s James Bond meets Indiana Jones, it’s Laurel and Hardy for today. Steve Zahn as Al, the ever comedic sidekick, and Matthew McConaughy as Dirk Pitt, the handsome save the day and the chick lead, is a duo that is made for the big screen; humor roles between the two of them as if they have been pals forever. Pals forever is the point behind all of this, their relationship in the film should look like they have been on hundreds of adventures before this and will be on even more afterwards and it works. The duo is accompanied by William H. Macy as Admiral James Sandecker, as usual William is right on the mark, and Penelope Cruz is there too, she plays Dr. Eva Rojas, Pitt’s love interest and common do-gooder.

Sahara will take you from the Civil War to a battle between a brutal African dictator and his people in Mali; actually it was filmed in Morocco, but you can’t tell. Pitt and Al are deep-sea treasure hunters that spend the whole film on land looking for a non-existent Civil War battle-ship, along the way their paths cross with Dr. Eva Rojas who is going in the same direction trying to solve a sudden plague that is killing the people of Africa. Then we go from plague and treasure hunts to full-on nuclear waste is going to destroy the world mode; by the way the waste is getting into the water supply and causing the plague. As Sahara moves along, at a very rapid pace, the most unbelievable events happen to it’s characters. Awesome and ah inspiring things like a high-tech speed boat chase that is like no other you have seen on the big screen and a final battle between a helicopter and a rusted bucket with a few rusty hundred year old cannons. Many critics whined about the fact that the events and happenings in Sahara was so unreal and couldn’t happen; let me give you a clue, it’s a movie and it’s suppose to be unreal, DUH!

They didn’t Sink The Titanic this time, so stop your moaning Cussler. Clive Cussler wrote Sahara in a series of Dirk Pitt novels, it is the eleven adventure he has sent the duo on. I have never read the books myself, but if there was a flaw in the film it was from the story end of it; of course that might not have been completely Cussler’s fault, there was 4-screen writers on staff. Maybe there was too many hands in the pot. I’ll give mad props to first time director Breck Eisner, he did a great job under the pressure of big named stars and plenty of sand storms and African heat.

Like I said at the beginning, Sahara is pure guilty pleasure and is a hell of a ride. I enjoyed it and liked the fact that I could sit through a film and not cry or want to kill myself at the end. It’s a non-thinker, just for fun go out and have a good time type of film.

I absolutely adored this movie. Everything about it was top-notch entertainment, and I was wonderfully surprised with its final direction. Kung Fu Hustle is tremendously good fun. Endearing, positive, and filled with the kind of mind-blowing action sequences that Michael Bay can only dream about, this movie is a must see for fans of Kung Fu action and good comedy. Here’s hoping Sony Pictures Classic can manage to give Stephen Chow the American attention and accolades he so richly deserves. Do yourself a tremendous favor and go see Kung Fu Hustle this weekend. You will not be disappointed.

Kung Fu Hustle
4 & 1/2 Stars

As any observant Transbuddha reader will know, I’m a huge fan of Stephen Chow’s Shaolin Soccer, so my anticipation for his new (to the U.S. at least) Kung Fu Hustle was nearly sky high. With high hopes and giddy excitment, I hit the advance screening hoping, wishing, expecting to be blown completely away.

Guess what? I was.

Kung Fu Hustle didn’t meet my expectations, it completely shattered them. Funny, endearing, fast, action-packed, and inventive as all get out, Kung Fu Hustle deserves your money.

Seriously, go see this movie.

Writer/Director/Star Stephen Chow may be one of the most famous entertainers you’ve never heard of. His films are blockbusters in China and Asia in general, and his previous effort (Shaolin Soccer) broke every box office record in Hong Kong. Miramax picked up Shaolin Soccer and then sat it on a shelf for two years, only to release a dubbed and re cut version into a staggering 6 theaters. Word of mouth and region-free DVD’s created a cult following here in America, and Miramax finally did the right thing and released an uncut, subtitled version on DVD. His newest film, Kung Fu Hustle, blew past Shaolin Soccer’s box office take, and managed to sweep the Hong Kong version of the Oscars.

Kung Fu Hustle tells a story of the epic battle between the residents of Pig Sty Alley, home of the poorest of the poor, and the notorious Axe Gang, a vicious band of thugs who’ve taken over the local gang scene. Doing triple-duty again, the ever charming Stephen Chow plays Sing, a wannabe gangster who (in his ill-conceived attempt to run protection racket in Pig Sty Alley by posing as a member of the Axe Gang), inadvertently brings the attention of the real gang to the not-so-helpless denizens of the slum. This forces three disguised Kung Fu masters to fight off the gang, and all hell breaks loose as the three seemingly harmless men just decimate the gang. Unwilling to accept a beating, the leader of the Axe Gang recruits his own kung fu masters to take revenge which of course escalates into a miniature war of superhuman proportions.

While that may read as your run-of-the-mill chop-sockey plot of conflict and revenge, Kung Fu Hustle stands apart with it’s deft balance of humor, plot, and jawdroppingly amazing action. It’s a testament to his filmmaking prowess that the jokes in Stephen Chow’s films manage to get through the translation to subtitles. It’s funny where it’s supposed to be funny for non-native speakers, and that’s a rare treat in most foreign films. Sure he’s not averse to the occasional sophomoric or low-brow sight gag, but mostly the humor comes from the seemingly incongruent actions of his characters and his exceptional eye for casting. There’s more than a few laugh-out-loud moments in the film, and I found myself grinning for most of the 95 minute running time. So much so that my jaw actually hurt as I was leaving the theater, and for once that wasn’t due to Milk Dud consumption.

While most action film plots are threadbare things just there to propel you from one fight sequence to the next, Kung Fu Hustle inserts some serious thought about personal responsibility and the consequences of our actions (which results in a couple of subtle Spider-Man references, no less), without resorting to treacle or preaching. Chow’s action films all share a common message about the underlying meaning of Kung Fu and how it should be used to better our lives, not end others, and that message makes it’s expected (but not obvious) appearance.

While the characters at first seem like crude stereotypes, they’re endearing enough to make you care about their fates and mourn for their losses. Super high marks must be given to Wah Yuen (the Landlord) Qiu Yuen (the Landlady), and Siu Lung Leung (the Beast), as these three grandparent age actors were simply a joy to watch onscreen. Not only accomplished fighters, their interactions were among the highlights of the film. A pre-battle conversation between them was at once both charming and forbidding as each (in their outlandish costuming and graying hair) managed to convey a perfectly realized sense of barely contained power and vitality. Delusional hobo-clad Leung especially managed to deliver a performance that was funny and brimming with gleeful malice. And as always, Stephen Chow put his odd looking cast to the best possible use.

Stephen Chow is a self-confessed Bruce Lee fanatic and it shows in every gesture and expression on his face. He’s a perfect heir to Lee’s charm and magnetism, and Sing’s eventual spiritual transformation neatly captures Lee’s trademark power and grace. He manages to sneak a not-so-subtle dig at Keanu Reeves’ Neo that only underscores why the Matrix films ultimately failed to connect. A hero shouldn’t exist just to fight, and Chow knows that.

But the fights! Oh, the fighting!  Sweet, beautiful Kung Fu madness leaps from nearly every frame of this movie. This the world of wire-fu, and the blissful disobedience of the laws of physics is ratcheted up a notch with each successive fight. Bodies fly through the air, everyday objects become weapons of mass destruction, and its an even race for what’s more in danger of being destroyed; the fighters or the world around them. While the fantastic elements of these battles remove some of their visceral impact, these fights get downright brutal. (Though for all it’s violence, Kung Fu Hustle remains a fairly blood & gore free movie.) Characters are literally pounded into the ground if they’re not being flung into the air like rag dolls. Famed fight choreographers Yuen Woo-Ping and Sammo Hung once again prove their worth as the architects of this ballet of violence. Chow seems to be enjoying his bigger budgets with more refined and seamless CGI effects, which put the Matrix sequels to shame. Unlike the almost masturbatory slow-motion shots seemingly designed to make stars look cool, Kung Fu Hustle knows that speed wins in the end, and so it reserves it’s slow-motion for sequences that deserve the attention. It’s the action that will bring this movie it’s attention from non-Hong Kong savvy filmgoers, and in that regard it should deliver above and beyond the normal expectations.

If you haven’t figured it out yet, I absolutely adored this movie. Everything about it was top-notch entertainment, and I was wonderfully surprised with its final direction. Kung Fu Hustle is tremendously good fun. Endearing, positive, and filled with the kind of mind-blowing action sequences that Michael Bay can only dream about, this movie is a must see for fans of Kung Fu action and good comedy. Here’s hoping Sony Pictures Classic can manage to give Stephen Chow the American attention and accolades he so richly deserves. Do yourself a tremendous favor and go see Kung Fu Hustle this weekend. You will not be disappointed.