Mike Binder has been writing, directing and appearing in his own unique, personal little movies for awhile now. In fact, he was doing it before it was "cool." Only recently, following the cult-y reception for his HBO series "Mind of The Married Man" and the modest but notably warm reception to "The Upside of Anger," has he started to emerge onto the mainstream filmmaking "stage" as a name of some note. For a change, the reason for this is easily defined: His films have gotten much better, informed at both the technical and the storytelling level by wisdom that can only be learned through hard work and the living of life. His movies have gotten sharper, deeper and smarter because he has. And whatever else it may be, "Reign Over Me" as it stands could only have been made by someone who's "put in his time" to get to this point.
His films tend to share certain reccuring attributes. Primarily, Binder makes adult-targeted relationship dramas with interwoven elements of humor. His films tend to be fairly lengthy and deliberately-paced, with lots of "breathing room" and ample multitudes of characters and subplots to occupy all that space. By and large, his characters tend to be broken, fractured, disordered or otherwise flawed; and usually wearing it on their sleeves. But none of that is what genuinely distinguishes Binder from those working in similar material. Rather, it's the following key difference: His movies are seldom, if ever, primarily concerned with problem-solving.
Most films, even the really "smart" ones for "grown-ups," have the following presumed-truth at their foundation: That there is a single, recognizable, attainable "correct" ideal state to life, the universe and everything. The majority of dramas concerning people with problems hold said problems as a mere deviation from the "correct" state of things, make the correction of said problems the main thrust of the plot and conclude when all or most of said problems are "solved" and normality is restored. For the most part, this is not how Mike Binder movies work, and it's definately not how "Reign Over Me" works. His characters tend to understand (though not always right away) that there is a difference between a problem - which sometimes must be smoothed-out, managed, "lived-with" but not always "solved" because, well.. because that's life, and because our problems are a part of us - and a crisis - which CANNOT be lived with and MUST be solved, even if it means setting the solving of smaller problems aside for a moment. In other words, at the end of a Mike Binder movie, chances are a character with a noteworthy character flaw will probably still have it.. though they've likely learned to control it, live with it or "smooth it out," which can be a little disorienting since so few dramas play out this way.
For example, in "Upside of Anger," the characters are all walking repositories of issues and problems: Joan Allen's bitter disconnect at being romantically adrift in middle-age, Kevin Costner's ambivalence at having "peaked" young and facing continued life in post-fame limbo of even-ness, the young daughters' various brushes with eating disorders, promiscuity, etc. All of those problems are still there, though smoothed-out and livable-with, at the end. It's only the crisis, in this case Allen's unrequited/self-consuming anger at her husband's supposed abandonment, that has been resolved. And thus the characters are, in a profoundly real and human way, "okay," because having problems and still being okay is what real humans do. It's what we are.
"Reign Over Me's" lead person-of-problems is Alan Johnson (Don Cheadle) a New York Dentist. He runs a successful practice... but he's quiet, timid and his partners are openly disrespectful of him. He has a lovely wife (Jada Pinkett-Smith,) great kids and a fine home... but his wife is just-this-side of "controlling," and he's accutely aware that he has no real hobbies or outside life unto himself. His most notable "relationships" outside his home are with Angela (Liv Tyler) a therapist who shares his building and endures the daily sleight of not being taken seriously because she's "too young," and his patient Donna Remar (Saffron Burrows,) a divorcee so profoundly screwed-up in the self-esteem department that she turns up in his office practically begging for the opportunity to perform oral sex on him... despite the fact that she's so stunningly attractive that another character later observes "no one has the right to go around looking that good!" (seriously, take a look: http://www.celebritywar.com/pictures/saffron-burrows.jpg )
MINOR SPOILERS (depending on which trailers you've seen) FROM HERE ON OUT
The story-proper kicks in when Alan meets up by chance with Charlie Fineman, (Adam Sandler) an old college roomate who he hasn't seen in over a decade. As far as anyone last remembered, Charlie was also a dentist and also had a comfortable wife-and-kids family situation going on... but when Alan spots him on the street he's a shaggy, unshaven, tattered mess - cruising the midnight streets on a motorized scooter, classic-rock songs blasting away on his headphones and speaking in a halted manner that suggests a form of autism.
The reason for Charlie's transformation aren't really approached as a "surprise," but have been slightly glossed-over by most of the television advertising: His wife and daughters are dead - they were passengers on the hijacked planes of September 11th. Unable to cope with the loss, Charlie has regressed to a near-catatonic state of Post Traumatic Stress Disoder, psychologically incapable of admitting that he ever had a family and prone to semi-psychotic outbursts at the suggestion. He flees in panic at the sight of his well-meaning but perhaps-misguided in-laws (Robert Klein, Melinda Dillon) and seems to have no knowledge of the fact that Sugarman, the accountant in charge of managing his considerable surivor's-relief funds (Binder,) was his best friend... up until September 10th.
He latches onto Alan's friendship as the only person who "know's him" but doesn't have any connection in memory to his lost family; while Alan latches onto Charlie for reasons both altruistic and selfish.. but also understandable: On the one hand, he senses the need and opportunity to help a friend; while on the other hand part of him clearly enjoys/envies the rules-free, quasi-adolescent existance that Charlie has created for himself in his dementia. It's important, vital in fact, that neither man is precisely "unaware" of this dynamic. Even Charlie, demonstrably, isn't in "denial" in the traditional sense: He KNOWS what the truth is, and he's slowly driving himself mad trying to force denial upon his psyche.
Alan's mid-life crisis and timidity, his wife's controlling, Charlie's possibly-permanent PTSD, the in-laws well-meant nosiness, Mrs. Remar's myriad issues and even Angela's inescapable youthfulness are the problems, and the setting of permanently-altered post-9/11 Manhattan (the film's New Yorkers never even call 9-11 by it's name, but no one ever needs to ask what is being spoken of) is as solid an indicator as any that Binder intends to let his characters once again deal-with, but not necessarily "solve" them. The crisis, on the other hand, is that Charlie is only growing more and more unstable and self-destructive. And while the film's third act between opposing forces that wish to forcibly "fix" his damaged pyshce (the in-laws) and others who want to help him find his own way "back" (Alan, Angela, Sugar and eventually even Donna) it's a point of zero-contention that something has to be done. Somehow, someone has to help him accept that he can go on living even with the knowledge of what he's lost.
Let's put it on the table right now: This is the best movie Mike Binder has made, period. It's also one of the best movies of the year, one of the best "after 9/11" dramas and contains Adam Sandler's best dramatic performance. Ever.
Binder has just-about worked out every nagging issue that had mired his previous work. The length doesn't feel too-long, the multiple characters and subplots all fit together organically (even Burrows' Remar, who at first seems so improbable that she may as well have wandered by accident from a nearby masturbatory fantasy, eventually feels real) and the melodrama/buddy-comedy mix doesn't feel an innapropriate fit. The drama works. The relationships are potent and human. The funny parts are funny, the sad parts are shattering, and even when it heads into the potentially-cliche'd realm of "Big Courtroom Scenes" or "Therapy Breakdowns" it's willing to go far enough to earn them.
See this movie. You owe it to yourself.
FINAL RATING: 9/10
Sunday, 1 April 2007
Wednesday, 28 March 2007
MAN-THING
TYPICAL REVIEW
THE PLOT
There's a new sheriff in town. No, really. And when we meet him on his first day at the job, he's confronting a group of eco-radicals chained to some construction equipment. It appears the local oil baron, Mr. Schist, is dredging up the sacred Indian swampland and tensions are rising. By the time Sheriff Kyle reports for duty people are already starting to go missing, including the previous sheriff he's come to replace. Who's behind these mysterious disappearances? Is it oil tycoon F. A. Schist, a man so evil he actually MWAH-HA-HAs after explaining his plans to his son? Or is it eco-terrorist Rene, a man who thinks an ankle-length black leather duster makes a logical choice for wading in swamps? Could it be those wacky Thibadeaux brothers, because everybody knows where there's a swamp, there's crazy in-bred homicidal cajuns. Or maybe it's just the monster we see kill a man in the very first scene of the film.THE POINT
At the time I'm writing this, movies based on comic books are big business. Both Ghost Rider and 300 have just spent weeks at #1, TMNT is opening there, and the Fantastic Four and Spider-Man sequels will likely follow suit. In terms of box office draw, comics (or "graphic novels" if it makes you feel smarter) are currently the top dog. But don't despair, B-fans, there's still plenty of room for them at the bottom too.Case in point; 2005's direct to DVD Man-Thing. Pity the poor makers of Man-Thing. They had to know they were in trouble when, in a year which saw the near universally panned comic adaptation Elektra receive a wide theatrical release, Man-Thing barely managed a premier on the Sci-Fi Channel. If you're familiar with the Sci-Fi Channel, you know it takes a lot of heat from genre fans for churning out low budget quickies like Octopus and Swarmed. But are these films really that much different from the fodder which used to fill out the second half of drive-in double bills; films like Tentacles and The Deadly Bees? Lord knows I've watched both of those, so why not give Man-Thing a try.
If you approach this movie as a Saturday matinée time killer, there is stuff to like about Man-Thing. The direction is competent and workmanlike, the acting ranges from "really trying" to "hamming it up nicely", and the swamp set looks pretty good. But if you're looking for that elusive buried treasure of a film, it's probably best to go somewhere else. The characters never rise above stereotypes, the plot holes are cave sized, and the CGI is marginal at best. The most crippling blow to Man-Thing, however, is a script so formulaic that the average viewer can predict every upcoming scene with 100% accuracy, up to and including the big climatic show down. As B-movie creature features go, Man-Thing is pretty much by the book.
And that's where this movie loses me, because whatever book the filmmakers were using, it sure as shootin' wasn't Man-Thing! You see, I was already a bonafide comic book nut by the time I entered elementary school, and along with the usual books featuring guys in spandex, I was trying out some of the odder titles on the rack. And boy was Man-Thing odd. As scripted by Steve Gerber, Man-Thing was part-horror, part-satire, and all-weird. Stories ranged from broad pop culture parodies of stuff like Star Wars to bizarre metaphysical ruminations on the nature of reality. Needless to say, none of the comic's intellectual subtext made it anywhere near this movie. Even more irritating is the characterization of the Man-Thing itself. The monster presented in the comics was fairly benign until provoked, but the creature in the movie is nothing short of a rampaging indiscriminate killer. He's Jason Voorhies covered in moss and twigs. In the end, nothing is left of the original source material other than a few names, an environmentalist storyline lifted from a single issue, and the idea of a monster in the swamp. Everything else is a complete misrepresentation of the book I enjoyed in my youth.
Poor Man-Thing. All I can say is... welcome to the club. Us religious types are used to being misrepresented; sometimes by non-believers, sometimes by other religions, and almost always by the nation's media outlets. As frustrating as it is when others get things wrong, though, it's even more so when the misinformation comes from inside our own church walls. Sadly, some people just don't know much about their own religion. And lest anyone think I'm just talking about Christianity, just take a look at the following story.
In 2002, Russell John Smith, ordained Satanist and founder of the Order of Perdition, was tracked down and arrested for molesting his own daughter. In his defense, he claimed the abuse was a legitimate part of his religious observance, no different than the black candles and goat’s head he kept in his basement. Since molestation was a part of his "theology", he shouldn't be prosecuted for simply exercising his lawful freedom of religious expression. (Oh, did I mention Smith was also a corrections officer in Virginia?) Now, despite what every marginally talented stand-up on Comedy Central would have you believe, no organized religion likes for these kinds of things to happen. It even upsets the Satanists. After the capture of Russell John Smith, the activist group Darkness Against Child Abuse (I did not make that up. Google them.) quickly denounced Smith and issued statements declaring that his actions had nothing to do with the true teachings or practices of the Church of Satan. If Smith had bothered to read his own group's charter, he would have known that "Do not harm little children." is number 9 on their list of the 11 satanic rules of the Earth. (Seriously, I’m not making this up.) Intentionally or not, he was misrepresenting his own church's "theology", and it was making the rest of the Satanists look bad. Or worse. Or bad "bad" instead of good "bad". I don't know, whatever, but you get the point.
Whenever I'm asked why the Catholic Church pushes religious education so much, these kinds of things are one of the reasons I give. Obviously, religious education alone isn't going to stop all of the misrepresentation out there, especially if it's being done on purpose, but it has to help. Cripes, even the Satanists figured that out. The Catechism states that "the movement of return to God, called conversion and repentance, entails sorrow for and abhorrence of sins committed, and the firm purpose of sinning no more in the future." No classes required. But the Catechism does go on to say that religious education "aims at bringing their conversion and faith to maturity, in response to the divine initiative and in union with an ecclesial community." In short, if you're a member of an organized religion, you have a responsibility to educate yourself on the teachings, both for your own spiritual growth and the good image of your fellow members.
And if you're a screenwriter working on an adaptation of another one of my childhood memories, would it kill you to do more with the source material than just flip through the pictures?
THE STINGER
According to figures in the 2006 Official Catholic Directory there were approximately 154,000 adult converts, 729,000 high school students, and nearly 3.5 million elementary students enrolled in parish religious education programs. To some, that number may seem excessive, but I like to think of it as nothing more than a good start.Somewhere, the lead singer of R.E.M. feels fine
Crossover.
Few words carry as much potential weight in the Geek World. The history of fictional characters from entirely disparate "worlds" is not entirely illustrious, but the lure of the concept is just too good to let a misstep here and there dull the effect. Who would win? Who's "better" in the first place? Will this special-talent be a match for that? Will the supporting casts show up? If so, what will they make of the meeting?
Few words carry as much potential weight in the Geek World. The history of fictional characters from entirely disparate "worlds" is not entirely illustrious, but the lure of the concept is just too good to let a misstep here and there dull the effect. Who would win? Who's "better" in the first place? Will this special-talent be a match for that? Will the supporting casts show up? If so, what will they make of the meeting?
Can Captain Marvel ("Shazam" version) lift the Hammer of Thor? Could even Superman not break Wolverine's unbreakable adamantium bones? Is The Predator good enough to hunt The Alien? Krueger or Vorhees, who goes the distance? Very seldom are the actual PRODUCTS that spin out of the Crossover itself among the best of either "participant's" catalogue, but that's not really the point. The point is that "it" exists at all. That it happened. So-and-so and you-know-who occupied the same space, breathed the same air, exchanged words and usually fisticuffs.
If you were a video-gamer during the 1990s, during what is now remembered as "The 16-bit Wars," the possibility of ONE hypothetical crossover in particular loomed to some degree in your imagination. No use denying it: You thought about it. Pictured it. Discussed it. Today we learn that we won't have to fantasize for much longer. This year, as a just-announced mega-release tied-in to the 2008 Beijing Olympics (aka China's official "Planet Earth, meet the new boss" coming-out party) it finally happens...
Not a joke. Not a hoax. Not an imaginary tale. Here's the official website:
http://www.sega.com/gamesite/marioandsonic/index.php
Think about this: Up until the middle of yesterday, "Halo 3" was going to be "THE Gaming Event of 2007."
Sunday, 25 March 2007
REVIEW: Shooter
What would happen if "24" and "Fahrenheit 9-11" had a baby? The answer would probably look a lot like "Shooter," a combination political-conspiracy-thriller/action-movie that's just slightly more schizoid than even it's genre-description would imply. It's protagonist - a former Marine scout-sniper living all Jeremiah Johnson in a mountain cabin far from Big Brother's eyes with just his beers, his gun collection and loyal hunting dog to keep him company - is practically a walking right-wing cartoon fetish doll; but he finds himself the hero of a conspiracy plot - involving Big Oil, private military contractors and corrupt Red State senators - that plays out like a DailyKos rant. Imagine the "300" Spartans showing up in Seattle to protest the World Bank and you'll get a pretty good picture of what an odd animal "Shooter" becomes when viewed through the politically-aware lense it frequent asks us to apply.
Yet, it works. Partially, it's because it's wisely willing to meet each of it's seemingly-incompatible "selves" at their most gonzo (within reason) extreme (hero striding toward camera flanked by massive American Flag in slo-mo? Check! Eeeeeevil greedy-capitalist baddies cackling ghoulishly over brandy and cigars? Check!) without a hint of tiresome irony. But mostly it's because it has the good fortune to star Mark Whalberg, a natural for this kind of role if there ever was one; and to have been directed by Antoine Fuqua, the criminally underrated action specialist (think Michael Bay, but with a functional grasp of subtlety) behind "Tears of The Sun" and "Training Day."
Whalberg is Bob Lee Swagger, the aforementioned reclusive master sniper. Uneasily goaded via some patriotic nerve-touching back into service to help pre-thwart a presidential assassination (Swagger: "I don't like the President. Didn't like the last one, either."), he finds himself framed for the murder of an Ethiopian diplomat by a shadowy government/mercenary/Big-Oil conspiracy. Nearly murdered in the process and now on the run from literally the entire law enforcement community, he enlists the aid of a sympathetic FBI rookie (Michael Pena) and an old service buddy's widow (Kate Mara) and sets out to take down the conspirators personally.
Depending on your politics, you're either going to nod your head, shake your fist or shrug your shoulder's at the film's central maguffin, but whatever your reaction it'll likely be coupled with a bipartisan eyeroll at how overly-simple yet overly-convoluted it actually is. But the "what" isn't really especially important here, since this is an old-fashioned Boy Versus The World hero quest and all the twists and bumps are nakedly just there to give Whalberg's Swagger a narrative to operate in. What's important is staging inventive-but-plausible action scenes around the hero's various special skills - particularly his vaunted marksmanship and ability to turn a wholesale store shopping spree into a one-man-army arsenal - and Fuqua executes this with grand expertise. As a bit of a bonus, there's some fun with improvisational medicine (my showing's audience cheered at the revelation of Swagger's "home" substitute for anesthetic) and a standout sequence of the Marine-trained hero making mincemeat out of a crack team of hired mercenaries (come to think of it, the scene and the film could both be accuratelt described as "Rambo vs. Blackwater.")
The film hit's some missteps when it comes time to lay out the "who's" and the "what's" of it's larger premise and veers too often into speechifying and exposition. Ned Beatty has some fun as a slimeball senator, but he and the rest of the heavies finally have little else to do other than sneer at the good guys and yuk it up over how fun it is being powerful and connected. The film is eventually lacking a central "heavy" to match Whalberg outside of the vaguely-defined enemy of "The System," though at least the screenplay knows enough to acknowledge this and work it into the overall theme: "You don't get it," one character scolds Swagger late in the game, "There's no 'head' to cut off."
But it's definately a good time watching him try.
FINAL RATING: 8/10
Yet, it works. Partially, it's because it's wisely willing to meet each of it's seemingly-incompatible "selves" at their most gonzo (within reason) extreme (hero striding toward camera flanked by massive American Flag in slo-mo? Check! Eeeeeevil greedy-capitalist baddies cackling ghoulishly over brandy and cigars? Check!) without a hint of tiresome irony. But mostly it's because it has the good fortune to star Mark Whalberg, a natural for this kind of role if there ever was one; and to have been directed by Antoine Fuqua, the criminally underrated action specialist (think Michael Bay, but with a functional grasp of subtlety) behind "Tears of The Sun" and "Training Day."
Whalberg is Bob Lee Swagger, the aforementioned reclusive master sniper. Uneasily goaded via some patriotic nerve-touching back into service to help pre-thwart a presidential assassination (Swagger: "I don't like the President. Didn't like the last one, either."), he finds himself framed for the murder of an Ethiopian diplomat by a shadowy government/mercenary/Big-Oil conspiracy. Nearly murdered in the process and now on the run from literally the entire law enforcement community, he enlists the aid of a sympathetic FBI rookie (Michael Pena) and an old service buddy's widow (Kate Mara) and sets out to take down the conspirators personally.
Depending on your politics, you're either going to nod your head, shake your fist or shrug your shoulder's at the film's central maguffin, but whatever your reaction it'll likely be coupled with a bipartisan eyeroll at how overly-simple yet overly-convoluted it actually is. But the "what" isn't really especially important here, since this is an old-fashioned Boy Versus The World hero quest and all the twists and bumps are nakedly just there to give Whalberg's Swagger a narrative to operate in. What's important is staging inventive-but-plausible action scenes around the hero's various special skills - particularly his vaunted marksmanship and ability to turn a wholesale store shopping spree into a one-man-army arsenal - and Fuqua executes this with grand expertise. As a bit of a bonus, there's some fun with improvisational medicine (my showing's audience cheered at the revelation of Swagger's "home" substitute for anesthetic) and a standout sequence of the Marine-trained hero making mincemeat out of a crack team of hired mercenaries (come to think of it, the scene and the film could both be accuratelt described as "Rambo vs. Blackwater.")
The film hit's some missteps when it comes time to lay out the "who's" and the "what's" of it's larger premise and veers too often into speechifying and exposition. Ned Beatty has some fun as a slimeball senator, but he and the rest of the heavies finally have little else to do other than sneer at the good guys and yuk it up over how fun it is being powerful and connected. The film is eventually lacking a central "heavy" to match Whalberg outside of the vaguely-defined enemy of "The System," though at least the screenplay knows enough to acknowledge this and work it into the overall theme: "You don't get it," one character scolds Swagger late in the game, "There's no 'head' to cut off."
But it's definately a good time watching him try.
FINAL RATING: 8/10
Saturday, 24 March 2007
REVIEW: TMNT (2007)
The words "improbably good," or some similar sentiment have chased around the "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" franchise around for some time. It certainly describes the quality of the original independent comics the characters were birthed in, the financial success of the merchandising empire that followed, and even the not-as-dated-as-you'd-think charms of the first feature film all the way back in 1990. Now, once more, here they are again: This film, an (apparently) mid-budget CGI-animated 4th sequel to a franchise who's last tepid entry washed out of theaters over fourteen years ago... is GOOD. Improbably good. Immediately one of the better action films of 2007, an absolute must-see for current and former fans and a genuine marvel at working both as a solid "hard-PG" action offering and a delightful family adventure pic. What a lovely surprise.
There'll be a certain quaint Geek Irony should this film be the release that unseats "300" from the top of the boxoffice (prognosis: improbably good.) The Turtles made their debut as a mid-80s underground independent comic book series from Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird, heavily spoofing the Marvel Universe of the time and in-particular "300"-progenitor Frank Miller's ninja-saturated "Daredevil" run - the go-to "hot" book of the time. Though MOST of them didn't at first come to it in that form, almost any living member of Generations X and Y can quote you the Turtle Lore verbatim: Four turtles turned into wisecracking humanoid mutants by toxic waste, trained in the martial-arts by and named for Renaissance painters by a similarly-mutated rat named Splinter, operating out of a hidden lair in the NYC sewer system, engaged in constant stuggle with the evil ninjas of the Foot Clan under the villian Shredder. From this humble and decidedly indie-edgy origin came a syndicated cartoon series, and from that came a merchandising cash-cow the likes of which hasn't been seen since. That it occured once was incredible - that it could now occur twice doubly so.
The new film picks up an unspecified number of years after the events of the previous film (prick up you're ears, oldschool fans, you didn't misread that: This is in-continuity with that prior entries, even the 3rd if you're paying close-enough attention.) The Shredder is dead, the Foot Clan has been reduced to working as mercenaries-for-hire, and the Turtle "brotherhood" isn't what it used to be. Leader Leonardo (swords, blue mask) has been off in South America honing his ninjitsu in the jungle, surfer-dude Michaelangelo (nunchucks, orange mask) and brainiac Donatello (bo staff, purple mask) are working crummy jobs to keep busy and hothead Raphael (sais, red mask) is a brooding, introverted wreck, doning an armored disguise and sneaking out as a vigilante at night to circumvent Master Splinter's (voice of Mako, making this the late legend's last film "appearance) ban on crimefighting until Leo returns. As for the extended-family, perennial Turtle buddy April O'Neil has traded in her reporter's mic for the rare antiquities scene while her boyfriend, sports-equipment-armed vigilante Casey Jones, is wrestling with issues of "settling down."
The maguffin (or two) that gets this fractured bunch back together - and into action - again, it turns out, eventually reveals itself as a pretty interesting, unpredictably-twisty setup involving a media tycoon, an ancient battle, a group of living-statues, a gaggle of surly para-dimensional monsters and even the semi-reconstituted Foot Clan. The degree of actual story and substance is impressive, considering both the pedigree and the fact that it's really just an impetus to re-establish the "TMNT" family-dynamic, particularly the interupted-animus between Leo and Raph which boils-over into a truly excellent fight scene.
Stylistically, it keeps pretty close to the visual style of the first film, i.e. a hybrid of the original comics' intentionally Miller-esque urban grit and the more whimsical animated version. Relative newcomer studio Imagi provides the animation, which is noticeably less polished-looking than industry-standard Pixar but makes up for it with a great production design and a well-chosen sense of nostalgia for colorful "edge" of pre-Guiliani Manhattan. The character design looks GREAT for the Turtles, who've simply never looked better, and the imaginatively-designed monsters; but falters a bit in regards to the humans: April and Casey look a little TOO doll-like and cartoony, next to the paradoxically more real-looking Turtles (Karai, the Zhang Ziyi-voiced new leader of the Foot Clan, on the other hand, looks terrific and doesn't have enough screen time.) Bottom-line, though, is that they ALL look great in motion.
(FYI, Imagi's next slated project is a PG13 CGI-animated feature version of the Japanese anime "Gatchaman," remembered as "Battle of The Planets" or "G-Force" to many of you lucky folks who's folks got Cable early on. I've decided I like these cats.)
Though it's clearly (and wisely) got it's eye on the new generation of potential audiences, the film is tight-packed with details and asides to reward the original fans who've come back to see if any of the magic is still there: Oldschoolers should definately keep a sharp eye on all the continuity-confirming treasures strewn about the Turtle Lair, and at my showing a single exchange hinting at whom the (hoped-for) next installment's Big-Bad might be had the 20-somethings expressing enthusiastic delight. And, dammit, there's something just-plain-good about seeing these old "friends" being pretty-much the way you remember them. It's not just a "fanboy-wank," but it DOES understand that it's dealing with a mythos that's tied heavily to the sacred memories of youth for much of it's prospective audience and it takes that "responsibility" seriously. If the Toy-Toon Generation is as incensed by the upcoming Michael Bay "Transformers" adaptation as many of them fear they'll be, look for "TMNT" to be frequently cited as "how NOT to eff these things up" Exhibit-A.
Oh, here's something ELSE you can look forward to: A whole lot of end-of-civilization carping when this "toy commercial" hits big bank with family audiences while "The Last Mimzy" belly-flops. Y'know what? YES, with it's New Age spiritual underpinings and environmental message "Mimzy" has the market cornered on good intentions compared to "TMNT's" just-for-fun/nostalgia bounciness... but "Mimzy" is still a leaden dud while "TMNT" is alive and kicking with terrific characters and grand family-friendly high-adventure.
I'll be smiling all weekend, thanks to this movie. Thank you, Imagi - but please work on rendering better human beings for "Gatchaman." Thank you, thank you, thank you writer/director Kevin Munroe, for giving me one of the good parts of grade school back again - and doing so in a full-on, legitimately great little movie. The best "Ninja Turtles" movie ever.
FINAL RATING: 9/10
There'll be a certain quaint Geek Irony should this film be the release that unseats "300" from the top of the boxoffice (prognosis: improbably good.) The Turtles made their debut as a mid-80s underground independent comic book series from Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird, heavily spoofing the Marvel Universe of the time and in-particular "300"-progenitor Frank Miller's ninja-saturated "Daredevil" run - the go-to "hot" book of the time. Though MOST of them didn't at first come to it in that form, almost any living member of Generations X and Y can quote you the Turtle Lore verbatim: Four turtles turned into wisecracking humanoid mutants by toxic waste, trained in the martial-arts by and named for Renaissance painters by a similarly-mutated rat named Splinter, operating out of a hidden lair in the NYC sewer system, engaged in constant stuggle with the evil ninjas of the Foot Clan under the villian Shredder. From this humble and decidedly indie-edgy origin came a syndicated cartoon series, and from that came a merchandising cash-cow the likes of which hasn't been seen since. That it occured once was incredible - that it could now occur twice doubly so.
The new film picks up an unspecified number of years after the events of the previous film (prick up you're ears, oldschool fans, you didn't misread that: This is in-continuity with that prior entries, even the 3rd if you're paying close-enough attention.) The Shredder is dead, the Foot Clan has been reduced to working as mercenaries-for-hire, and the Turtle "brotherhood" isn't what it used to be. Leader Leonardo (swords, blue mask) has been off in South America honing his ninjitsu in the jungle, surfer-dude Michaelangelo (nunchucks, orange mask) and brainiac Donatello (bo staff, purple mask) are working crummy jobs to keep busy and hothead Raphael (sais, red mask) is a brooding, introverted wreck, doning an armored disguise and sneaking out as a vigilante at night to circumvent Master Splinter's (voice of Mako, making this the late legend's last film "appearance) ban on crimefighting until Leo returns. As for the extended-family, perennial Turtle buddy April O'Neil has traded in her reporter's mic for the rare antiquities scene while her boyfriend, sports-equipment-armed vigilante Casey Jones, is wrestling with issues of "settling down."
The maguffin (or two) that gets this fractured bunch back together - and into action - again, it turns out, eventually reveals itself as a pretty interesting, unpredictably-twisty setup involving a media tycoon, an ancient battle, a group of living-statues, a gaggle of surly para-dimensional monsters and even the semi-reconstituted Foot Clan. The degree of actual story and substance is impressive, considering both the pedigree and the fact that it's really just an impetus to re-establish the "TMNT" family-dynamic, particularly the interupted-animus between Leo and Raph which boils-over into a truly excellent fight scene.
Stylistically, it keeps pretty close to the visual style of the first film, i.e. a hybrid of the original comics' intentionally Miller-esque urban grit and the more whimsical animated version. Relative newcomer studio Imagi provides the animation, which is noticeably less polished-looking than industry-standard Pixar but makes up for it with a great production design and a well-chosen sense of nostalgia for colorful "edge" of pre-Guiliani Manhattan. The character design looks GREAT for the Turtles, who've simply never looked better, and the imaginatively-designed monsters; but falters a bit in regards to the humans: April and Casey look a little TOO doll-like and cartoony, next to the paradoxically more real-looking Turtles (Karai, the Zhang Ziyi-voiced new leader of the Foot Clan, on the other hand, looks terrific and doesn't have enough screen time.) Bottom-line, though, is that they ALL look great in motion.
(FYI, Imagi's next slated project is a PG13 CGI-animated feature version of the Japanese anime "Gatchaman," remembered as "Battle of The Planets" or "G-Force" to many of you lucky folks who's folks got Cable early on. I've decided I like these cats.)
Though it's clearly (and wisely) got it's eye on the new generation of potential audiences, the film is tight-packed with details and asides to reward the original fans who've come back to see if any of the magic is still there: Oldschoolers should definately keep a sharp eye on all the continuity-confirming treasures strewn about the Turtle Lair, and at my showing a single exchange hinting at whom the (hoped-for) next installment's Big-Bad might be had the 20-somethings expressing enthusiastic delight. And, dammit, there's something just-plain-good about seeing these old "friends" being pretty-much the way you remember them. It's not just a "fanboy-wank," but it DOES understand that it's dealing with a mythos that's tied heavily to the sacred memories of youth for much of it's prospective audience and it takes that "responsibility" seriously. If the Toy-Toon Generation is as incensed by the upcoming Michael Bay "Transformers" adaptation as many of them fear they'll be, look for "TMNT" to be frequently cited as "how NOT to eff these things up" Exhibit-A.
Oh, here's something ELSE you can look forward to: A whole lot of end-of-civilization carping when this "toy commercial" hits big bank with family audiences while "The Last Mimzy" belly-flops. Y'know what? YES, with it's New Age spiritual underpinings and environmental message "Mimzy" has the market cornered on good intentions compared to "TMNT's" just-for-fun/nostalgia bounciness... but "Mimzy" is still a leaden dud while "TMNT" is alive and kicking with terrific characters and grand family-friendly high-adventure.
I'll be smiling all weekend, thanks to this movie. Thank you, Imagi - but please work on rendering better human beings for "Gatchaman." Thank you, thank you, thank you writer/director Kevin Munroe, for giving me one of the good parts of grade school back again - and doing so in a full-on, legitimately great little movie. The best "Ninja Turtles" movie ever.
FINAL RATING: 9/10
REVIEW: The Hills Have Eyes 2
Boy, does this suck.
It was practically a given that this quickie sequel would have an uphill battle at proving itself without gonzo-genius Alexandre Aja at the helm, but man... This is the kind of awful, pointless follow-up you usually expect to go direct-to-DVD.
Alright, so the original isn't exactly a flat-out masterpiece, but at least it had guts (literally) and vision. It's solution to reinvigorating the stale "vactioners versus rural cannibal mutants" setup was to go over-the-top and then some. This sequel whittles down the mutants to a skeleton-crew of about four to five uniteresting hulks and tosses a crew of heavily-armed National Guard troops at them... and can't think of a single interesting thing to do for almost two hours. The first film managed a crucifixtion/incineration, a baby-in-peril and turned the family dog into an action hero before the 3rd act even got going... the best the sequel can manage is a prolonged, shockingly unimaginative rape scene. Skip it.
FINAL RATING: 1/10
It was practically a given that this quickie sequel would have an uphill battle at proving itself without gonzo-genius Alexandre Aja at the helm, but man... This is the kind of awful, pointless follow-up you usually expect to go direct-to-DVD.
Alright, so the original isn't exactly a flat-out masterpiece, but at least it had guts (literally) and vision. It's solution to reinvigorating the stale "vactioners versus rural cannibal mutants" setup was to go over-the-top and then some. This sequel whittles down the mutants to a skeleton-crew of about four to five uniteresting hulks and tosses a crew of heavily-armed National Guard troops at them... and can't think of a single interesting thing to do for almost two hours. The first film managed a crucifixtion/incineration, a baby-in-peril and turned the family dog into an action hero before the 3rd act even got going... the best the sequel can manage is a prolonged, shockingly unimaginative rape scene. Skip it.
FINAL RATING: 1/10
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