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'TROPIC THUNDER'
COMEDY DOWN IN THE JUNGLE
By Sean Chavel
Dirty and foul-mouthed but a testosterone-driven laugh riot. Tropic Thunder is Ben Stiller's most gleefully offensive and antagonistic-aggressive comedies but the target satire hits its marks. Stiller is Tug Speedman, buff but brainless action star of "Scorcher" and five sequels. He's an actor trying to reinvent his career with a prestigious Vietnam movie based on a book by hostage survivor Four Leaf Taybeck (Nick Nolte, a grouchy and grizzly performance). Speedman is the first of a cast of five that doesn't realize that the movie has been canned. The actors will have to become real soldiers to survive against jungle mercenaries.
Once in awhile a movie comes along that features a scene-stealing performance. "Tropic Thunder" is special because it contains two. First, there's Tom Cruise (acknowledged in the end credits) as Les Grossman, studio head of the doomed movie. Grossman is a fusion of Gordon Gekko, hip-hop, T.J. Mackey and Obadiah Stane. He stinks of WASP greed and egotism. He's bald, he's hairy-chested, he's… unrecognizable as Tom Cruise.
The second and more astonishing screen performance is Robert Downey Jr. as Aussie actor Kirk Lazarus. Is this Downey's most electrifying, radical and mesmerizing performance since "Natural Born Killers?" Rarely has mainstream comedy featured such a tour de force performance. Lazarus is a multi-Oscar winner with the chops of Russell Crowe and Daniel Day-Lewis. He's an actor in the Vietnam movie, but he's gone through skin pigment alteration to appear black-face. Lazarus, as this method actor, always stays in character as black and he does dignified but no-bulls black pride as good as the best of Denzel Washington or Morgan Freeman. Astonishing. Ceaselessly brilliant and freaking hysterical.
Something obligates me to discuss the rest of the movie which features Jack Black as a heroin-addicted Hollywood star of fart comedies, and Matthew McCon-aughey as an ass-kissing agent to Speedman. Or discuss Speedman's previous Oscar bid "Simple Jack," pandering to awards and accolades but instead became one big stink-bomb. Sure, I'd like to add that the clips of "Simple Jack" are one of the fall-out-of-your-seat funniest moments at the movies this year. Fearlessly, it doesn't mind being offensive. But only the most pious audience members would not find this hysterical. It's really satire of bad pandering disease movies that think they're important.
Something obligates me as well as to discuss the second half of the movie where Speedman becomes prisoner to the mercenaries. They hold a ransom for $100 million that they want Les Grossman to pay. "We don't negotiate with terrorists," Grossman attests. Something should also be said of Danny McBride as a pyro-technician on the film set who lost one of his digits on his first studio job, "Driving Miss Daisy." And I'm almost forgetting the severed head that Speedman mistakes for a prop.
But what I really want to discuss is Downey Jr. who is having a phenomenal streak of films, I'd say starting with "Zodiac," then "Iron Man," and now "Tropic Thunder." I'm almost tempted to say that "Tropic Thunder" would be only merely good without Downey Jr. instead of really, really good. But the dialogue is exceptionally twisted and full of actor-showmanship paradoxes. Some of the dialogue for the other characters is one-note, and some of them are indeed one brain-cell characters. But Downey Jr. has great material to work with. And he exploits his dialogue, his black sergeant character, and thespian superciliousness to the max.
It takes a strong ego like Downey to play a character who is so arrogant that his Aussie character believes he can play black. He thinks he is black. At one point, you see the Aussie Kirk Lazarus going into withdrawal when he finally breaks his shell. He acts as if he's come out of a deep-entranced state. It's like he doesn't know where Kirk the man and Kirk the actor begins and ends. Then there are haughty pronouncements about what's going on in the movie-making process: "I don't read the script, the script reads me."
The summer movie season is never taken seriously at Oscar time, but I hope this year is an exception. It's August and already there are three worthy candidates for best supporting actor: Heath Ledger in "The Dark Knight," Robert Downey Jr. in "Tropic Thunder," and Tom Cruise in "Tropic Thunder." Unlikely that anybody could have predicted such outstanding work in what is essentially a summer blockbuster? Yes, it is all very unlikely. It is also very unlikely that these performances can be disregarded. These actors are following standards they have been setting new standards.
The X-Files
I Want To Believe
By Rita Cook
A stand-alone X-Files movie meant hey, I didn't have to know every plot twist and diverted angle that so many X-Files junkies would be able to recite in their sleep. With that in mind I trudged to check out "X-Files: I Want to Believe," but came away, I suppose disappointed would be the best explanation, for lack of a story. Don't get me wrong, for X-Files fans this movie will be an excellent chance to get one more look at Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. And, of course, I knew who these characters were and enough about them to get the idea, but the creators of this… what could have been "masterpiece" fell way too short.
Aliens were missing, but that wasn't the big deal, the plot line with a priest who might or might not be psychic just could not live up to a big enough story. The movie did not get going until midway through and by that time you really won't want to believe anything. Fox Mulder (David Duchovny) and Dana Scully (Gillian Anderson) go back and forth at believe it or not in the paranormal abilities of a defrocked priest played by Billy Connolly. Scully believes in God and science and Mulder in what's out there otherwise, no big surprise there. For me, psychics are in our face so much these days, the storyline didn't serve to excite or go the extra mile in regard to anything really very paranormal.
More a love story between these two than a science fiction thriller, mystery or anything else along those lines, the acting is good all around as is the directing and the scenery, which made me feel cool inside on a hot day. Indeed, lots of snow and set in West Virginia in the winter (but actually filmed in Canada) a priest who prays to use his "psychic" abilities for good so he might be forgiven of his pedophile ways is the extent of this sleeper. Six years after the series ended, are the X-Files fans still interested in believing?
Hoping to Poole in Audiences
By Bridgette Wiener
Is hope the answer to all human ailments? This the question posed throughout the entire film of Henry Poole Is Here. This inspirational drama written by Albert Torres (his first produced screenplay) and directed and produced by Mark Pellington (The Mothman Prophesies and Arlington Road) manages to capture its audience but not necessarily in the profound way it desires to.
The film is about a depressed and cynical man, Henry Poole (played by Luke Wilson) who has lost all hope in living because he learns from his doctor that he is going to die. Henry escapes his normal life by moving away from the city and into a small residential community. In his new home Poole receives a sign from God that strongly tests his ability to believe. Due to the inspirational sign Poole must learn to deal with a nagging-religious neighbor, Esperanza, who is the epitome of hope. Esperanza teaches Henry to accept belief and in turn, he gains friends, falls in love, reconnects with his past, and learns to heal himself internally. What Poole mostly learns, that being the moral of the story, is that in order to both physically and mentally heal oneself one must have hope to guide them.
The storyline, despite the maladroit premise, is likable and engaging. The mild humor keeps the script fresh and grounded. The character development is the strongest aspect of the movie. If you are a fan of character-driven films such as Napoleon Dynamite or Nacho Libre, you might very well enjoy this film. Not only is each individual character unique and amusing, the cast is superb. Luke Wilson who plays the main character, Henry Poole, steals the screen with his noteworthy performance. Several other actors include Radha Mitchell (Dawn Stupek), Adriana Barraza (Esp-eranza), and George Lopez (Father Salazar). Not only do these actors transform their characters into heartwarming and unparalleled subjects, but these actors make this film worth seeing.
Even though Henry Poole does not seem to spiritually touch its audience as it might intend to it does generate a story that offers individuals a new way of addressing the idea of hope. The film's soundtrack also adds another plus to the overall package. If you like good music you'll definitely enjoy this Indie film's variety of songs. Overall, Henry Poole Is Here amuses its audience. And, if you see the film without having too high of HOPEs, it definitely will not disappoint you.
The Choke
By Sean Chavel
I wonder if Sam Rockwell has a clause in his contract that stipulates that he will only work if he is typecast as a neurotic bungler... let's just say that this may have been the first time Rockwell played a character who walks around for 30 minutes with a derelict anal bead in his rectum, but it doesn't feel like the first time I've seen him do that. This time around Rock-well is a cynical sex addict who functions as the 'backbone of colonial America' at an Eastern colonial theme park and, for kicks and cash, fakes choking to death in restaurants in the hopes that his rescuers' pity will take on fiduciary proportions.
His best friend is a compulsive masturbator, his mother (Huston) is a withering former vigilante, slowly skipping from sanity in a mental hospital, and his one true love interest is a smartly perky nurse (Mac-Donald) who always leaves the viewer with a curious "...?" hanging over his head. Between lurid, comedic sexual fantasies and wince-inducing childhood flashbacks we watch Rockwell attempt to balance out his own personal sicknesses with his often grotesquely absurd reality.
Choke was adapted by actor/writer Clark Gregg from Chuck Palahniuk's bestselling novel, yet another tainted tableau of a world whose denizens are barely more than slaves to their compulsions. Palahniuk's works are even more adaptable than Stephen King's; his novels practically function as films from their publication. And Choke, no doubt, is perfect movie material, but doggonit; it's so rare that any director's first effort ever succeeds its ambitious intentions. I like Gregg. He's intelligent and he has a sense of humor. And Choke is an admirable effort! But I can safely say that, seriously, nobody will see the film and be completely satisfied. Palahniuk's jet black cynicism reminds one of having a cigarette snuffed out on his hand, but Choke is just too darn light: it's plucky string soundtrack should've been replaced with screeching electric guitars, its bland, beige, would-be verite cinematography should've consisted of sharp, blatantly contrived shots with distinct color schemes (ironically, not unlike the film's poster), and its strolling-down-the-street glib one-liners should've been oral ice picks that pierced our ears. No performance really stands out in memory, though each one is passable. MacDonald, as much as I like her and as well as she did, was simply miscast. Choke is, perhaps, 3/5 of the way there. Immediately we are thrust into the narrative with no mincing about and the momentum never really dies - points for Gregg. Narratively Choke borders on slipshod, any number of scenes and subplots coming and going without fanfare or memory (a rather dull 'rock' sidequest, that was quite relevant in the book, appears here as nothing more than a forced gag). Clearly Fight Club raised the bar quite high for Palanhiuk adaptations, and now Choke will serve as the 'what not to do' of that ilk. Future directors, take note: if you're going to dive into the plasma pool, make it a deep, penetrating dive, and save the toe-dipping for the quakers.
Fly Me to Moon
By Sylvia Alloway
Were Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin really alone when they took their first dusty footsteps on the moon? Not according to animated feature Fly Me to the Moon. There were these three intrepid little boy flies, you see, of the usual types: the boss, the brain and the buffoon, otherwise known as Nat (Trevor Gagnon), IQ (Phillip Daniel Bolden), and Scooter (David Gore). Enthralled by his Grandpa's (Christopher Lloyd) stories of flying with Amelia Earhart, Cape Canaveral resident Nat decides that somehow he will get himself and his friends onboard the moon flight, despite objections from his nervous mom (Kelly Ripa).
Of course, what you really want to know about Fly Me to the Moon is how was the 3D CGI? Not to keep you in suspense, it is nothing short of miraculous. This not your grandfather's 3D (cardboard glasses and raucous sight gags) or even your father's (Captain EO's little friends floating off the screen). You've heard of surround sound? This is surround picture.
Flying critters and space ships seem to come from behind you. Water plants in the foreground of a landscape hover over the seat in front of you, while the water, land, and a small building appear in layer after layer behind them.
One of the most fascinating effects occurs aboard the space ship - weightlessness. Shards of a broken glass vial drift lazily all way out to the furthest reaches of peripheral vision. Colliding blobs of orange juice have you checking your shirt to make sure you didn't get splashed.
The art work is meticulous. The closer an object appears the more detail the viewer sees down to the individual gray whiskers on Gran-dpa's not-quite-clean-shaven face.
The animators have created attractive, gauze-winged flies without any disgusting, fly-ish characteristics. Each has two large, soulful eyes, not dozens. They are equipped with four human-like limbs not six hairy, twitching legs. Antennae keep a low profile. Even maggots are re-imagined as cute, pink babies with teeth, of all things.
Acting is for the most part hardly noticeable, a good thing. Often when directors cast "celebrity voices" for their animated movies, you spend the entire picture thinking, "Oh, yeah, that's Fred Famous," instead of focusing on the character. Here, nobody is showing off (well, except maybe Christopher Lloyd, but he does it so well). Kelly Ripa, Nicollette Sheridan (with Russian accent), and especially the three child actors who play the insect astronauts sound like real - you'll pardon the expression - people.
Speaking of which, the human beings, CGI renderings of astronauts Armstrong, Aldrin and Michael Collins, look a little plastic, as humans always do in this technology. Maybe that's the next frontier for modern animators, bona fide humanity.
Needless to say, our tiny heroes do get to the moon, but that is not the end. For a good story you need conflict. Overwhelmed parents, the dangers of space travel and even an encounter with bug spray do not, it seems, provide enough of this vital ingredient. So the writers take up another historical fact of the day, the Cold War.
Soviet fly General Poopchev (Ed Begley, Jr.) is incensed that American flies have reached the moon first and resolves to engage in some sabotage. He dispatches the villainous Yegor (Tim Curry) to Cape Canaveral to do his worst to the computer guidance system.
And here is where the movie breaks down. The villains are funny and there are a few semi-tense moments, but the space race complication is introduced too late to be effective. Tim Curry, as he has proven numerous times, makes a great baddie, but his part is small, especially considering the high billing he receives. The plot feels tacked on and hurried.
An afterword by Buzz Aldrin himself, standing in front of the screen like a hologram, proves that flesh and blood can be 3Ded, too. It adds to the historical context and gets an appearance by a genuine astronaut into the credits.
Unlike many animated films, this one does not "push the envelope" on its G rating. Everything about it is low-key and natural, as it can afford to be. When anything can happen right before (or next to or behind) your eyes there is no need of yuk-yuk, back-slapping potty jokes or slick references to pop culture. As a result, the movie really is appropriate for all ages.
So grab a child, any child and prepare to be captivated by Fly Me to the Moon. Let's hope that this time, 3D is here to stay.