Music From The Movies,
Saturday, October 31st at 7pm
 BOO...there's no show on October 24, but tune in Saturday the 31st for scary movies to put us in a Halloween mood! Old favorites include Vertigo (score by Bernard Herrmann), Sunset Boulevard (Franz Waxman) and The Exorcist (Mike Oldfield's "Tubular Bells"). More recent chillers are Sleepy Hollow and Sweeney Todd (both Danny Elfman), and Bram Stoker's Dracula (Wojciech Kilar). In new reviews, Jared checks out the undead in Cirque du Freak: the Vampire's Assistant. Regina thinks Hilary Swank fails to take off in Amelia, and Michael Sheen's the show in The Damned United. Plus check out the new edition of "DVD Short Takes."****NEW IN THEATERS (by Regina with Jared Counts)****  MICHAEL JACKSON'S THIS IS IT. (Columbia Pictures. 1 hour, 51 minutes. Rated PG for some suggestive choreography and scary images. Directed by Kenny Ortega.) Well-crafted, entertaining, fascinating tribute to the King of Pop. Consisting primarily of rehearsal footage while Jackson prepared for a series of 50 (!) concerts in London, This Is It should serve to remind those who see it that he was a tremendously talented musician. A crawl at the beginning of the movie tells us the footage was shot both for Jackson's personal library and for possible use as a video element for the concerts. The footage is high-quality, not the grainy, shaky-camera "rehearsal" stuff you might expect. Jackson, Ortega and crew were clearly working on what would have been a spectacular show, with large set pieces, 3D film, and of course top-level musicians and singers backing the star. It's remarkable to see Jackson, at age 50, still nimble as he takes command of the stage, even in rehearsal. Understandably, most of the time he's not singing in full voice, which is a bit frustrating for the viewer. We don't get the fabulous stage costumes either (although even Jackson's rehearsal clothes merit some interest).He still had the babyish speaking voice, and probably weighed less than anyone else on stage, but don't doubt that Jackson was in charge during the creative process. Working on the opening number, "Wanna Be Startin' Somethin,'" a single from 1982's Thriller, Jackson tells the band they have to make it more "funky." "It's just not there," he says quietly, and correctly. We also see him working on a film montage for "Smooth Criminal" which inserts him into scenes from noir classics Gilda and In A Lonely Place. The songs, mostly written by Jackson and mostly great, keep coming: we hear parts or all of "Speechless," "They Don't Care About Us," "Human Nature," "The Way You Make Me Feel" and more, culminating with "Billie Jean," "Beat It" and "Man in the Mirror." Since I'm old enough to remember the Jackson 5 years, I was treated to a brief medley from that period ("I Want You Back," "The Love You Save," "I'll Be There") which Jackson struggled with a bit (it turned out to be a monitor problem; as he says a number of times when there's a snafu, "Well, that's why we rehearse"). It's my hope that the "Wacko Jacko" years don't overshadow what he was really about: music and showmanship. This Is It is a must for Jackson fans, and worthwhile for any pop music fan. —Regina  AMELIA. (Fox Searchlight Pictures. 1 hour, 51 minutes. Rated PG for some sensuality, language, thematic elements and smoking. Directed by Mira Nair.) Hilary Swank (Amelia Earhart), Richard Gere (George Putnam), Ewan MacGregor (Gene Vidal), Christopher Eccleston (Fred Noonan), Cherry Jones (Eleanor Roosevelt), William Cuddy (Gore Vidal). Music by Gabriel Yared. A blown chance to be a revealing, detailed biography of the famed aviatrix (1897-1937). The fault is in the screenplay, which isn't much more than fanciful, pretty fluff, bent on turning Earhart into a swoony romantic figure (I had more fun with Amy Adams' plucky, ready-to-party Earhart in the otherwise-forgettable Night at the Museum sequel earlier this year). But even the romances aren't very convincing.Swank looks the part as Earhart (although all those closeups don't flatter her with those large teeth and lips), and Gere as husband Putnam offers adequate support. Much is made of Earhart's supposed affair with aviation entrepreneur Gene Vidal (played stiffly by MacGregor), father of famed author Gore. Plot structure takes us along on Earhart's final flight across the Pacific with navigator Noonan, intercut with flashbacks telling of Earhart's marriage, relationship with Vidal and son, and career as "Lady Lindy." Missing (besides Lindbergh himself) is, well, a lot: anything about her background, growing-up years in Kansas and Iowa with her younger sister, or her many other careers (did you know she was at various times a stenographer, truck driver, photographer, teacher, social worker, and even a nurse's aide during the 1918 flu pandemic?). How about some details on why and how she started flying? Amelia looks pretty; there's just not much behind the façade than air. —Regina  THE DAMNED UNITED. (Sony Pictures Classics. 1 hour, 38 minutes. Rated R for language. Directed by Tom Hooper.) Michael Sheen (Brian Clough), Jim Broadbent (Sam Longson), Timothy Spall (Peter Taylor), Colm Meaney (Don Revie), Peter McDonald (Johnny Giles), Brian McCardie (Dave Mackay). Music by Rob Lane. Sheen's the show in this entertaining look at Brian Clough, the British football manager (we say soccer here) and his rise and fall in the early 1970s, pretty much of his own doing. You don't really have to know anything about soccer (I don't) to follow the story, as the match scenes are few. It's a character study of a dynamic, ambitious young man who took over at Leeds United in 1974 (when they were the reigning champions), and who was ousted after a mere 44 days. The story doesn't make Clough all hero or all villain: he's a complicated man with a lot of talent and too much mouth. Integral to his success, as everyone but Clough seems to realize, is his right-hand man, Peter Taylor (Spall, a busy character actor best known to American audiences as Wormtail in the Harry Potter franchise). Their relationship, with its own ups and downs, is at the heart of the movie. Screenwriter Peter Morgan also penned Sheen's two previous triumphs, The Queen and Frost/Nixon; finally the star, Sheen proves he can carry the ball. —Regina CIRQUE DU FREAK: THE VAMPIRE'S ASSISTANT. (Universal Pictures. 1 hour, 48 minutes. Rated PG-13 for sequences of intense supernatural violence and action, disturbing images, thematic elements and some language. Directed by Paul Weitz.) John C. Reilly (Larten Crepsley), Josh Hutcherson (Steve), Chris Massoglia (Darren Shan), Jessica Carlson (Rebecca), Michael Cerveris (Mr. Tiny), Ray Stevenson (Murlaugh), Ken Watanabe (Mr. Tall), Salma Hayek (Madame Truska), Willem Defoe (Gavner Purl). Music by Stephen Trask. After attending a performance by a traveling freak show, Darren (Massoglia) and his friend Steve (Hutcherson) are dragged into a conflict between vampires and the vampeneze. In order to save his friend's life from a deadly spider bite, Darren becomes a half-vampire and indentures himself to a 200-year-old vampire named Crepsley (Reilly). A disappointing movie that never adds up to the sum of its parts.The Vampire's Assistant couldn't have picked a better time to come out, what with the success of True Blood and Twilight (the next installment of which is coincidentally being directed by Paul Weitz's brother Chris). However, tonal inconsistencies, poor plotting and some lackluster performances dog the film. It tries to be too many things at once, veering from comedy to drama to coming-of-age tale without succeeding in any. Making matters worse, the plot lopes from point to point haphazardly before culminating in a messy climax that resolves nothing. Ask an easily distracted 12-year-old to summarize the first three books in the Cirque du Freak series, and you'll get a feel for the movie. The cast performs well enough, and it's nice to see Reilly in a role that doesn't involve gratuitous flatulence, but Massoglia doesn't have the chops to carry the lead role. In light of all the freakiness, his character is bland and flat, making him seem disconnected. Hutcherson doesn't fare much better, coming off as a bully and an unconvincing "best friend" to Massoglia. Just another case of squandered potential. —Jared  A SERIOUS MAN. (Focus Features. 1 hour, 45 minutes. Rated R for language, drug use, some sexuality/nudity and brief violence. Directed by Joel and Ethan Coen.) Michael Stuhlbarg (Larry Gopnik), Richard Kind (Uncle Arthur), Fred Melamed (Sy Ableman), Sari Lennick (Judith Gopnik), Alan Mandell (Rabbi Marshak), Simon Helberg (Rabbi Scott), George Wyner (Rabbi Nachtner), Amy Landecker (Mrs. Samsky), Fyvush Finkel (Dybbuk). Music by Carter Burwell. "Why does God make us feel the questions, if he's not going to give us any answers?" Thus pleads Larry, the protagonist (and only reasonably-likable person) to one of a series of rabbis in the latest sort-of comedy from the Coen Brothers. There is a prologue set in long-ago Poland, where the wife of a poor Jewish farmer questions whether an old traveler visiting them is actually a dybbuk (the soul of a dead man sent back from Hell). This scene is entirely in Yiddish. OK.Then we're in 1967 Minneapolis, where the aforementioned Larry is a family man and physics professor. His wife Judith unexpectedly asks for a divorce, as she has taken up with the blustery Sy ("We're gonna be fine," he says as he hugs Larry), his daughter wants a nose job, his son is a pothead and slacking off from his Hebrew studies, and Larry's unemployed brother Arthur is forever draining the large cyst on his shoulder while working on his probability map of the universe. Wait, I'm not done: Larry's upcoming tenure is threatened by an anonymous letter-writer, and his comely neighbor insists on sunbathing in the nude. Oh yeah, one of Larry's students is trying to bribe him for a better grade. Ready to rush to the theater yet? There are some mildly funny scenes (the bar mitzvah scene is good), but if there is some great existential point being made here, I missed it. The Coens are undeniably talented (see Blood Simple or Raising Arizona for proof), but with Burn After Reading and this, I'm wondering if they need to take a sabbatical. —Regina  WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE. (Warner Brothers. 1 hour, 34 minutes. Rated PG for mild thematic elements, some adventure action and brief language. Directed by Spike Jonze.) Max Records (Max), Catherine Keener (Mom), James Gandolfini (Carol), Lauren Ambrose (KW), Paul Dano (Alexander), Catherine O'Hara (Judith), Forest Whitaker (Ira), Chris Cooper (Douglas). Music by Carter Burwell and Karen Orzolek. Max (Records), a young boy with a single mom (Keener) and an older sister who has "outgrown" him, gets into an argument with his mother and runs away from home. He comes across a small boat, braves an angry sea, sails to an island populated by fantastic creatures and becomes their king. Spike Jonze succeeds in bringing a beloved children's book to life.Given the brevity of Maurice Sendak's original work, Wild Things takes a few liberties with the text. The plot is very simple, and gets stretched a little thin in places. However, the movie never feels less than genuine, telling a lot of the story without dialogue and giving the film a surprisingly contemplative feel. Jonze and co-conspirator David Eggers draw some very subtle parallels between Max's island life and his home life, which only heightens the emotional impact. Records seems very much like a real 8-year-old, prone to the tantrums and flights of fancy of that age. Keener is wonderful as his doting but overworked mother, and the voicework of a very talented cast really breathes life into the creatures on Max's island. The Things themselves, a mix of costumed actors and CGI faces, are an amazing achievement in special effects and have a much more concrete presence than purely CG characters would (funny, since they're imaginary creatures). The soundtrack, by Coen Brothers regular Burwell and Karen O. (of the indie rock band the Yeah Yeah Yeahs), is odd but engaging, and compliments the lush cinematography well. A sparse yet beautiful testament to the joys and hardships of childhood. —Jared  LAW ABIDING CITIZEN. (Overture Films. 2 hours, 2 minutes. Rated R for strong bloody brutal violence and torture, a scene of rape and pervasive language. Directed by F. Gary Gray.) Jamie Foxx (Nick Rice), Gerard Butler (Clyde Shelton), Colm Meaney (Det. Dunnigan), Bruce McGill (Jonas Cantrell), Leslie Bibb (Sarah Lowell), Regina Hall (Kelly Rice), Viola Davis (Mayor). Music by Brian Tyler. Foxx and Butler are well-matched in this drama which works up to a point. Nick Rice is a hotshot prosecutor trying to help Clyde Shelton, whose wife and daughter were brutally murdered by two men. One of the men gets away with a light sentence and Shelton thinks the justice system is a joke (well, he's got reason). Fast-forward ten years: Shelton's turned into a psychotic avenger bent on sending a message to the public by way of a series of high-profile assassinations, which he manages to continue even after he's apprehended. Of course, "only one man" can stop him: guess who. Well-done mayhem movie eventually sags in final third under the weight of increasingly-implausible plot developments. Philadelphia location is refreshing change from New York or Los Angeles, particularly when the beautiful City Hall complex is highlighted. Verdict: Not bad, not great. —Regina  COUPLES RETREAT. (Universal Pictures. 1 hour, 47 minutes. Rated PG-13 on appeal for sexual content and language. Directed by Peter Billingsley.) Vince Vaughn (Dave), Jason Bateman (Jason), Faizon Love (Shane), Jon Favreau (Joey), Malin Akerman (Ronnie), Kristen Bell (Cynthia), Kristin Davis (Lucy). Music by A.R. Rahman. Anal-retentive couple Jason and Cynthia (Bateman and Bell) goad their friends into a tropical beach vacation. However, once on the island, they're confronted with "Couple Skill Building" and yoga with airy Frenchman Marcel (Jean Reno, a far cry from his role in The Professional) instead of parties and jet skis. A good cast and some funny scenes round out an amusing, if a bit mediocre, bit of comic fluff.It's almost hard to believe that Vaughn and Favreau, the duo that wrote the classic bro-comedy Swingers, helped write this movie, which lacks so much of the wit and verve of the former. The cast does help to alleviate some of this, with Bateman and Love hitting their marks while Favreau and Vaughn exhibit some of their old chemistry. The ladies, on the other hand, are relegated to the background, with each being given a stereotype to fulfill and little else. Reno is amiable enough as the fabled "couples whisperer," but Peter Serafinowicz and Carlos Ponce (as a mouthy concierge and a swarthy, under-dressed yoga instructor, respectively) run away with their scenes. Too many lulls between funny scenes stretch the movie about 15 minutes too long. Even with that, the ending still feels rushed, predictable and fairly unconvincing. This is the first film directed by Billingsley (best known as Little Ralphie from A Christmas Story) and it shows. At least the scenery is pretty. A decent comedy that hits about as much as it misses. —Jared  COCO AVANT CHANEL (Coco Before Chanel). (Sony Pictures Classics/Warner Bros. In French with English subtitles. 1 hour, 50 minutes. Rated PG-13 for sexual content and smoking. Directed by Anne Fontaine.) Audrey Tautou (Gabrielle "Coco" Chanel), Benoît Poelvoorde (Étienne Balsan), Alessandro Nivola (Arthur "Boy" Capel), Marie Gillain (Adrienne Chanel), Emmanuelle Devos (Emilienne d'Alençon). Music by Alexandre Desplat. Dullish telling of the story of the famous couturier (1883-1971) from her humble beginnings in an orphanage in rural France. She and her sister struggle through an early show-business career, but the boyish Gabrielle is no dance-hall girl (the "Coco" nickname comes from a popular song she sang in those days.) She intrigues a baron with her frank talk and menswear-inspired clothes, and through her relationships with similar rich men, she is able to get her own business started (first as a milliner, then a dressmaker).Tautou's expression (disaffected? Inscrutable?) doesn't seem to change through the first hour of the movie. She can only depend on those big brown eyes for so much. There are some long, slow stretches as Chanel is shown living at the baron's country estate. She is among the rich, but is not of them; OK, we get it. We don't get to Paris until the final minutes of the movie, but by that time one is rather disconnected from the proceedings. Pleasant-enough music by Desplat, but doesn't live up to his recent offerings (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is still his best score so far). A far more involving movie about another French icon is La vie en rose, the Edith Piaf biography from 2007 starring Marion Cotillard (she won the Oscar, and deservedly so). I've always admired the clothes, and Chanel No.5 is still the best perfume ever, but I can't quite recommend this Coco. —Regina  BRIGHT STAR. (Apparition. 1 hour, 59 minutes. Rated PG for thematic elements, some sensuality, brief language and incidental smoking. Directed by Jane Campion.) Abbie Cornish (Fanny Brawne), Ben Whishaw (John Keats), Thomas Sangster (Samuel Brawne), Paul Schneider (Charles Armitage Brown), Kerry Fox (Mrs. Brawne). Music by Marc Bradshaw. Unabashedly romantic, in the best sense. That word is mostly used by filmmakers these days in the phrase "romantic comedy," and those are usually neither romantic nor funny. This is less like Campion's In the Cut (remember that Meg Ryan/Mark Ruffalo fiasco from a few years ago?) and closer in tone to her best-known work, The Piano. Cornish is particularly impressive as the doomed poet John Keats' muse. Not a great deal happens here, but the actors and Campion do a lot with a little. And there's that gorgeous poetry. Listen also for the interesting use of music in the film: well-chosen, yet sparingly used. Stay through the credits to hear Whishaw recite "Ode to a Nightingale." Bright Star is a small, yet shiny gem. —Regina***WHAT'S NEW ON DVD!*** REGINA'S DVD SHORT TAKES. BOY A. (2007, The Miriam Collection). Andrew Garfield, Peter Mullan, Siobhan Finneran. Directed by John Crowley. Gripping, well-done study of a young man who attempts to reenter society after having served time for a crime he committed as a kid. British-made drama raises questions about juvenile punishment and rehabilitation. Good performance by Garfield as the man who tries to start over. THE CLASS. (2008, Sony.) François Bégaudeau, Agame Malembo-Emene. Directed by Laurent Cantet. A year in the life of a French schoolteacher in a tough multi-cultural Paris neighborhood. Based on the autobiographical novel by Bégaudeau, who plays himself opposite real students. This movie was Oscar-nominated for Best Foreign Film, and won a bunch of other awards, but I found it only mildly interesting. MANNIX: THE THIRD SEASON. (1970-71, CBS/Paramount.) Mike Connors, Gail Fisher, Robert Reed. My favorite TV private eye is back, looking slick in that Plymouth Barracuda convertible. Fisher won an Emmy for her work this season as Mannix's secretary and confidante. Look for the episode where Mannix loses his sight.  THE POSSESSION OF JOEL DELANEY. (1972, Legend Films.) Shirley MacLaine, Perry King. Directed by Waris Hussein. Upper-crust divorcee becomes concerned when her brother returns from Tangiers, acting strangely and with a sudden ability to speak Spanish. Possession idea predates The Exorcist by a year. King, in his debut film role, is suitably creepy; exorcism scene is pretty silly. OK for MacLaine fans. WHATEVER WORKS. (2009, Sony Pictures Classics.) Larry David, Evan Rachel Wood. Directed by Woody Allen. After his four-movie European sojourn, The Woodman's back in New York, with this very funny look at a curmudgeon (David, in his element), who puts up with, then becomes attached to, a homeless young Southern girl (Wood, charming). Meanwhile he kvetches amusingly throughout, no matter what happens to or around him ("This is not the feel-good movie of the year," David warns us early on). Patricia Clarkson and particularly Ed Begley Jr. provide good support as Wood's parents, who leave the deep South for their own slice of the Big Apple. Plays like vintage Allen, which is what it is (the screenplay was originally written in the 1970s for Zero Mostel).> view printer-friendly version > return to previous page |