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.
Oliver Stone’s epic bio of the Macedonian military legend, like so many pet projects, is a glorious mess of a movie. The screenplay goes back and forth in time, mixing scenes of Alexander’s youth with scenes of his conquests. The result is jarring, never allowing you to get to know the character in any time. The narrative also relies far too much on Anthony Hopkins’ narration to explain what is going on. Stone has an Academy Award for writing Midnight Express, but his writing on Alexander seems like the clunky work of an amateur.
Neill Blomkamp’s stellar directorial debut is an unpredictable blend of intelligence, emotion, and cinematic whoop-ass that defies convention and leaves you breathless. It begins like a documentary, outlining how a race of stranded aliens (the space kind) came to be ghettoized in South Africa. We follow a character named Wikus, a bumbling government agent who is tasked with herding the aliens to a new camp (the concentration kind) further away from Johannesburg. The aliens aren’t pretty, but you’ll be surprised how emotionally invested you’ll get in a couple of them — a father named Christopher, and his tiny young son, who are desperately trying to find a way back to their home world. When Wikus subjects himself to a dangerous alien chemical, he begins a Kafka-esque transformation into one of the aliens, or “prawns” as they are called derogatorily.
