In this opus from writer/director John Waters, Stephen Dorff (Blade, The Gate) plays the title character, a cult movie director who gathers a flock of teen drug addicts and whores to join him in a literal war against mainstream film making. Their efforts attract media attention when they kidnap a Hollywood star (Melanie Griffith) and force her to be in their underground flick. I can certainly appreciate the desire to obliterate an industry that markets drivel to the masses, but I’d have preferred a little more meat on these bones. Griffith’s character in particular is hard to get a handle on, her transformation from bitchy diva to Demented acolyte fitting too conveniently into the needs of the plotting. And I’d like for Waters to have pushed Dorff further over the edge as well. Everyone is a neat stereotype and things are played strictly for laughs. But, hey – that’s the Waters way.
Cate Blanchett stars as the real-life Irish journalist who paid the ultimate price for exposing the burgeoning drug problem in mid-90s Dublin. Outraged after discovering children playing in streets littered with used needles, Veronica Guerin decided to bring the epidemic into the national limelight, risking the life and safety of not only herself but her family as well. Blanchett, always reliable, does a great job portraying Guerin as a woman with a brave public face, even after a shot is fired into her home and a drug lord punches her repeatedly in the face for daring to step foot on his property (the film’s most brutal and disturbing scene).
In this remake of a 1971 film, Crispin Glover (Back to the Future, River’s Edge) stars as the title character, a socially misfit momma’s boy with a telepathic connection to the colony of rats collecting in his basement. With his bed-ridden mother and condescending boss constantly picking at his self-esteem, it’s just a matter of time before Willard snaps and sends his army of furry friends to do his bidding. But the rats are a bit like the genie out of his bottle, which complicates this straight-forward little story quite nicely. Willard sews discord into his rat army by favoring the adorable white rat, Socrates, over the very large and envious Ben. So it’s a love/hate relationship between Willard and the rats, and though they may leap at the opportunity to murder for their master, they may also end up being his undoing.
When Rob Zombie re-booted Halloween in 2007, trading Michael Myers’ boogeyman mystique for a more pointed psychological explanation for his behavior, I didn’t hate it. While I much prefer not to see the man behind the mask or to understand his motivations, I thought Zombie’s remake was a somewhat interesting experiment. But his version of Halloween II is a whole different and far worse endeavor.
Jim Carrey stars as a man who discovers a book that he believes is about him, sinking him further and further into a murder mystery that proposes the killer is, quite literally, the number 23. Carrey is good and director Joel Schumacher’s (A Time to Kill, Flatliners) direction is taut, if a little too hyper-stylized for the material. I don’t put stock in numerology, so the first half of the film strains my suspension of disbelief. Fortunately, Fernley Phillips’ script makes a one-eighty after the mid-point and I found the last half much more engaging than the first. (I won’t give any direct spoilers, but it’s a lot like A Beautiful Mind in its narrative structure.) Cinematographer Matthew Libatique (Requiem for a Dream, Black Swan) serves up high-contrast lighting and a palette of deep colors to reinforce Schumacher’s melancholy tone, while Harry Gregson-Williams’ score plays counterpoint, adding a sense of wonder and urgency.
The sixth entry in the Rocky franchise is far better than it has any right to be. Sylvester Stallone is back in the writing and directing chairs, presenting a melancholy portrait of a hero fighting against decline. At the film’s start, we see the Italian Stallion still reeling from the death of his beloved Adrian two years prior, while trying to maintain a relationship with his estranged son (Milo Ventimiglia). While Rocky tries to break his lonely spell by making friends with a single mother (Geraldine Hughes) and her son (James Francis Kelly III), a TV sports show tries to create a fantasy boxing match between the current heavyweight champion, Mason Dixon (Antonio Tarver) and a past legend, our man Rocky. The idea catches fire, pulling Balboa back into the ring after years of retirement.
Oliver Stone presents his third presidential biopic, this time putting George W. Bush under the microscope. The script by Stanley Weiser (Wall Street) is an ambitious one that sometimes struggles to find its focus, but noticeable emphasis is given to W’s estranged relationship to “Poppy” Bush (George H.W.), his struggle with alcoholism, and his born again faith. As played by Josh Brolin, W. is painted in a goofy but sympathetic light. The goofy parts are mostly on record, though Stone might have toned down the part where W. meets future wife Laura (Elizabeth Banks) while chugging beer and ripping into a mammoth hamburger. The sympathetic parts come from W.’s fears of never living up to the family name, as well as in the final moments, where he seemingly begins to doubt his presidential legacy.
