Movie Reviews

Since audiences have shown Hollywood that even the most ridiculously inept drivel can pass as quality action fare, there’s no doubt that this cinematic train wreck will probably spawn yet another sequel of equally diminished return. Fans of incessantly awful cinema might find a timeless gem here, but only after a copious amount of heavy, heavy drinking and several swift punches to the skull.

xXx: State of the Union
Negative Stars

Lest it be thought that the following review is the work of some unabashedly elitist movie snob, let me say this: I absolutely adore action flicks. Bullets, grim heroes, and very large explosions tickle my fancy in ways even the greatest of dramatic works can’t achieve. Give me a beer, some popcorn, and some needlessly violent gunplay and I am one very happy monkey indeed. Hell, I even enjoyed The Rundown, and that starred Seann William Scott, an actor I would happily see brought before the International Court for crimes against humanity.

Oh, there but for the Grace of Vin Diesel go thee

The original xXx was made in a fairly callous attempt to kick the spy genre firmly away from its tuxedo-clad and upscale roots. Trading upper class education and high society for eXtreme sports and Hollywood envisioned street smarts, Vin Diesel’s growly charisma managed to give the film enough charm to keep it from being just a moronic 2 hour exercise in blowing stuff up.

Since the original film was a fairly successful endeavor, it is safe to say that the only thing that would have prevented this sequel from being made would have been the utter destruction of our universe, and even then it’d have a 50/50 chance of release. Hollywood proved long ago that it’s capable of existing in an airless vacuum.

Sadly, trading in Vin Diesel’s diminishing star power for the long-past faded Ice Cube is akin to trading your RC Cola for a Shasta, but in a move that should surprise only the most mind-bogglingly naïve moviegoer, that’s exactly what the makers of xXx: State of the Union have done for this incomprehensibly stupid action sequel.

This time around Ice Cube plays a former Navy Seal who is tapped to take the coveted title of xXx when a NSA facility in Virginia is attacked by unknown assailants. A returning Samuel L. Jackson, who must have some serious investments in the telecom industry, phones in his trademark performance as the gruff and wise intelligence operative who taps the incarcerated Cube to save the current slate of old, white men. Nona Gaye and Xzibit play the shady characters from Ice Cube’s mean streets past, while Michael Roof plays the tragically unhip Q to Cube’s Bond. Rounding out this sorry lot is a partially effective Scott Speedman and Willem “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this” Defoe.

Though the film is supposed to be a race-against-time action film about stopping a political coup (and settling an old score), the film takes so many ridiculous turns that it’s akin to reading Mad Libs submitted by local sanitarium patients. Plot and logic holes large enough to drive a jacked up and armored Ford Truck through take a film that could be dumb to a level of medical retardation. Remove the budget and big special effects, and replace Ice Cube with Lorenzo Lamas and xXx: State of the Union would be completely at home alongside the slew of arrestingly stupid action films that peppered cable movie channels throughout the late 80s and early 90s.  Rest asssured, those of you unwilling to pay 9 bucks to see it on the big screen will inevitably find it sandwiched between Coors and Axe ads on Spike TV.

If nothing else, perhaps film historians will one day look back and recognize State of the Union as the film that single-handedly set back race relations in America a good 15 years, as its characters are uniformly do-gooder thugs and back stabbing blue-bloods (An important lesson learned in the film is “don’t trust rich white chicks”). The filmmakers attempt a couple of clumsy stabs at showcasing the economic and social gap of Washington elites and the lower-class citizens who provide their basic services, but such moments are played for easy laughs rather than insightful commentary. Although on the surface a pro-American film, this mindless action film treads a pretty uneven political line. Chock full of class-warfare and sniping, what starts out as a PCP addled liberal conspiracy freak’s cautionary tale feels more like a Reagan era shoot-‘em-up with it’s main character’s motivation rooted more in vengeance than any sense of civic duty. Though conservative filmgoers will probably be a bit put off by the U.S. Army being portrayed as about an effective military force as Darth Vader’s Imperial Stormtroopers (who by all rights must surely be the Washington Generals of the cinematic military canon.)

Since audiences have shown Hollywood that even the most ridiculously inept drivel can pass as quality action fare, there’s no doubt that this cinematic train wreck will probably spawn yet another sequel of equally diminished return. Fans of incessantly awful cinema might find a timeless gem here, but only after a copious amount of heavy, heavy drinking and several swift punches to the skull.

I’m normally distrusting of coming of age films, as they almost universally miss the mark on conveying the inner changes of lives in progress.  Add Robin Williams playing a retarded man to a project written and directed by a former television actor and my cynic meter almost redlines.  Thankfully David Duchovny pulls it off and lets me leave the theater with a pleasant smile on my face.

House of D
3 & 1/2 Stars

I’m normally distrusting of coming of age films, as they almost universally miss the mark on conveying the inner changes of lives in progress.  Add Robin Williams playing a retarded man to a project written and directed by a former television actor and my cynic meter almost redlines.  Thankfully David Duchovny pulls it off and lets me leave the theater with a pleasant smile on my face.

House of D

According to the world of cinema, our lives are defined by a single event which serves both as a landmark and an easy explanation for the rest of our lives.  In the real world however, our lives are redefined each and every day with every moment and action helping us become more and more ourselves.  There are powerful moments with long-lasting effects, but without a director’s hand or screenwriter’s plot, each life is a compilation of endless series of moments.  But that would make for some seriously long-ass movies, wouldn’t it?  So we’ll have to settle for the snapshots of life provided by our current technology, I suppose.

Effectively casting off the remaining shreds of his iconic X-Files career, David Duchovny makes his writing and directing debut with House of D, a not-really-autobiographical coming of age film set in the early 70’s Greenwich Village.  Duchovny plays Tommy, an artist living in Paris who tells his estranged wife and 13 year old son the story his own 13th year to explain the man he’s become.  Anton Yelchin plays his 13 year old self, a prep-school student who lives with his widowed mother (Tea Leoni), pals around with his retarded friend Pappass (Robin Williams), and is looking for any guidance he can get to weather through those uncertain and confusing preteen years.  His home life and his best friend force him to play an adult role he’s wholly unprepared for, but Tommy’s exuberance and humor allow him to remain the child he still is.  With no stable adults in his life to turn to he’s in the dark as to how to win the affections of schoolmate Melissa (Robin Williams’ daughter Zelda, making her film debut), so he turns to the advice of “Lady” (Erykah Badu) a Women’s House of Detention inmate he’s never seen only heard. As every adult knows, the best intentions of our youth often make for disastrous consequences, and Tommy is forced to learn this lesson in a horrific series of events.

On the surface House of D may seem unfulfilling, as young Tommy’s life is nearly idyllic with the wide open streets of the Village before him, a delivery boy job that is low stress, easy money, and great fringe benefits, and a beautiful young girl who wants his attentions.  But his grace filled path to adult provides friction with his friendship with Pappass, who’s just smart enough to know that he doesn’t get to grow up with his friend. Tommy’s mother is a shattered, chain smoking husk of a woman who wants to be a mother, but relies on her young son to take care of her.  Eventually Tommy is forced to make a choice that erases every shred of his carefree life, and that is what’s kept the grown-up Tommy from being a fully complete human being. 

Though the film does wander into some treacle-covered moments (particularly in the finale), the performance of Anton Yelchin is what makes this movie so enjoyable. I’m convinced that somewhere outside of Hollywood there is a lab dedicated to the creation of each generation’s Henry Thomas (E.T.).  The last one churned out was the talented and quirky Jeremy Davies, but I truly hope Yelchin’s career has more staying power than that.  His easygoing charm and good-natured humor sucks you in, and makes you want Tommy to have the life he deserves.  There’s no awkwardness or stiffness in his delivery and body-language, and he holds his own alongside Frank Langella, Leoni, and a thankfully restrained Williams. 

Robin Williams playing a retarded adult was the thing that made me the most trepidatious about House of D, but outside of playing the character just a tad more intelligent and knowing than is probably accurate, his performance works well.  He never overshadows his young co-star, and his asides and mannerisms help keep an already funny film more lighthearted.  It’s about time Robin Williams found a dramatic role that didn’t require him to maintain a pained grimace from start to finish. 

Tea Leoni has just a few snippets of screen time, but her almost trademark neurosis works incredibly well in her scenes.  It’s always painful to watch parents reduced to relying on their young offspring, and her performance maintains the right balance of pathos and sympathy.  Sure she’s a selfish wreck, but she obviously loves her child.  It’s just that she doesn’t know how to be there for him like Tommy is for her.

Zelda Williams isn’t given much screen time either, but her Melissa feels natural and unaffected.  It’ll be interesting to see where she goes from here.  And Frank Langella? Well he’s as solid as ever.  HBO’s “Unscripted” has him perfectly cast as the jaded mentor to a group of young actors, as he just exudes authority and confidence with every laconic line that leaves his lips.  His stern Catholic headmaster works because for all his gruff and seeming disinterest, he’s genuinely concerned for his charges and just as genuinely disappointed when they fail. 

Duchovny has gone on record as stating that his intent was to make a fable as well as a film, and in that regard he’s succeeded.  Everything is just a little bit more than might be found in everyday life, but only so much as the story requires.  As I stated before, the ending loses a little of its impact, as things wrap up a little too perfectly, but what fable doesn’t?  Overall I’m reminded of Peter Weir’s excellent autobiographical film “The Year My Voice Broke” which might serve as the more realistic and downbeat cousin to House of D.  Both films have a deep and lasting sadness to them, but what life doesn’t?  The heartbreak and loss we suffer define us as much as our accomplishments and House of D does a beautiful job of balancing the humor, the hurt, and the general imbalance of those in-between years. 

If nothing else, go see this film for Anton Yelchin.  If Hollywood knows what’s good for it, this should be the first of a long series of great performances from a young actor with just oodles of potential.

• Title: Crash
• IMDB: link

Racism is a difficult subject to broach cinematically. It’s all too easy to reduce it’s complexities and ignore the underlying reasons for racial tensions all together. Pithy moments of clarity and harsh realizations may make for good viewing, but they hardly touch on the lasting and deep seated effects of our prejudices. Paul Haggis (screenwriter of Million Dollar Baby) makes his directorial debut with Crash, a sprawling look at the seemingly endless well of racism in L.A., but for all its multiple storylines and enlightened moments all that’s left in the end is the idea that deep down we’re all just fundamentally damaged beyond repair, just simmering until that one moment brings our inner racist to the forefront.

Crash tells the story of a various L.A. residents as they careen into one another in what makes for a mind-boggling series of coincidences. Seemingly random events emerge into a pattern of overlapping storylines which are too rushed and slighted to serve as anything more than a cursory glance at these characters’ lives.

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Crash Is A WreckRead More »

Crash tells the story of a various L.A. residents as they careen into one another in what makes for a mind-boggling series of coincidences. Seemingly random events emerge into a pattern of overlapping storylines which are too rushed and slighted to serve as anything more than a cursory glance at these characters’ lives.

Crash
2 & 1/2 Stars

Racism is a difficult subject to broach cinematically. It’s all too easy to reduce it’s complexities and ignore the underlying reasons for racial tensions all together. Pithy moments of clarity and harsh realizations may make for good viewing, but they hardly touch on the lasting and deep seated effects of our prejudices. Paul Haggis (screenwriter of Million Dollar Baby) makes his directorial debut with Crash, a sprawling look at the seemingly endless well of racism in L.A., but for all its multiple storylines and enlightened moments all that’s left in the end is the idea that deep down we’re all just fundamentally damaged beyond repair, just simmering until that one moment brings our inner racist to the forefront.

Crash tells the story of a various L.A. residents as they careen into one another in what makes for a mind-boggling series of coincidences. Seemingly random events emerge into a pattern of overlapping storylines which are too rushed and slighted to serve as anything more than a cursory glance at these characters’ lives.

A detective (Don Cheadle) deals with the political bargaining of racism while two beat cops (Matt Dillion and Ryan Phillippe) both transcend and exemplify the almost institutionalized racism of the L.A. police department. A district attorney (Brendan Frasier) spins his recent carjacking to political advantage while his wife (Sandra Bullock) discovers her privileged life is nothing more than a never-ending pattern of anger and fear directed at everyone around her.

A television director (Terrance Howard) and his wife (Thandie Newton) suffer the humiliation of overt and discreet racial bias both professional and personal, while two carjackers expound on the racial overtones of seemingly ordinary events while ignoring their own racist views. And finally, a Persian man’s (Shaun Toub) perceived and experienced attacks result in an unfocused need for revenge.

With Crash’s massive cast, sprawling storylines, and L.A. setting, the comparisons to Paul Thomas Anderson’s far superior Magnolia are pretty easy to make. Haggis further blurs the line by including a montage sequence set to a very Aimee Mann-esque tune and a finale that’s more plausible than a rain of frogs, but just as miraculous. But where Magnolia dealt with our need for personal redemption, Crash gives us characters who are irredeemable. Haggis’s view of racial tension in America is one that’s both incredibly myopic and overly simple. Everyone is a racist in this world. All it takes is the right moment for those prejudices to come through and when confronted with implicit and explicit racial bias, his characters act only in their immediate self-interest seemingly unable to stand up against what they know to be wrong.

To be sure the technical aspects of this film work exceptionally well, as the storylines bleed into one another with ease, and the use of transitions makes for a seamless blend. I can’t imagine I’d have ever praised the acting in a film starring Brendan Fraiser, Sandra Bullock, and Tony Danza, but the performances in Crash work to the extent the writing lets them. Cheadle is excellent as always, as is a surprising Matt Dillion. Rapper Chris “Ludacris” Bridges makes a fine serious film debut as the philosophizing carjacker forced to deal with the damage he commits. Ryan Phillipe’s mostly silent perfomance as the young cop trying to do the right thing only to be confronted with his own misconceptions is particularly powerful, but with so little screen time his character’s actions seem almost random. It’s obvious these actors know they are dealing with an important subject, and they do their best to lend the film what weight and impact it manages to convey, but with so many stories and such a heavy-handed approach to such a delicate subject, it’s impossible for these actors to break out from the thumbnail sketches and caricatures Haggis has saddled them with.

Broken down into ever thinning slices, every life can be reduced to sainthood or damnation. Context is everything. Even the most vile character can be sympathetic when we’re shown their point of view, but Crash relies only on confrontation and it’s after effects to explore it’s characters. The idea that we’re all just one bad moment away from displaying our deepest prejudices is too cynical a conclusion that this film makes again and again. A few lines of expository dialogue is no substitute for context and background, and without them it’s unfair to draw conclusions about characters at their most vulnerable or worst. It would be easy to dismiss Crash as an outsider’s view of American racial relations (Writer/Director Paul Haggis is Canadian), but judging from his work on Million Dollar Baby, Haggis takes a dim view of humanity overall and that almost-misanthropy comes through in nearly every scene.

Crash fits into 100 minutes a subject that even a 12 part mini-series couldn’t do justice, and while I certainly think the state of racial relations in the U.S. is a worthy topic of discussion and exploration, I’m left thinking that perhaps Haggis should have left well enough alone. It’s almost unworthy as a discussion starter, as Crash offers no explanations, alternatives, nor solutions instead merely content to highlight our worst behaviors while ignoring our ability to rise above those instincts.