Straight out of the slice-and-dice school of filmmaking, Vantage Point fractures chronology and perspective in a vain attempt to disguise its flimsiness.
Director Pete Travis has assembled an international cast to exploit the vaguest of notions about terrorism in Barry L. Levy's script. Tracing a half-hour period of a calamitous day from multiple points of view, the screenplay tosses in an of-the-moment camcorder angle. But there's no rhyme, reason or intrigue in this story of a presidential assassination, and unintentional laughs outnumber the moments of suspense. Going out to 3,000-plus screens, the film is poised for a muscular performance at the boxoffice, but for moviegoers seeking a compelling, solid action-thriller, the best vantage point would be outside the theater.
The action -- the film is all incident and mechanics, with no context, reflection or resonance -- unfolds, over and over, in Salamanca, Spain. World leaders have gathered for a groundbreaking World Summit Against Terrorism, and the president of the United States (William Hurt) is about to speak at a midday rally in the city's Plaza Mejor. Production designer Brigitte Broch's replica of the square, constructed in Mexico, is an impressive feat. DP Amir Mokri's overhead of the throng, bright with waving flags and summer clothes, has an abstract sheen, and the opening scenes suggest an undertow of foreboding that only unravels as the story proceeds.
In a mobile studio near the plaza, a TV news producer, Rex (Sigourney Weaver, in a brief, by-the-numbers turn), orchestrates her channel's coverage of the event. She reins in an opinionated reporter (Zoe Saldana) and a roving cameraman from "sideshow" complexities like the anti-U.S. protesters on the periphery. Rex is surprised to see Thomas Barnes (Dennis Quaid) among the Secret Service agents accompanying POTUS to the rostrum. This is his first time back in the field since he took a bullet for the commander in chief a year earlier. Bullets seem to follow Barnes; President Ashton is shot moments after beginning his remarks. Two explosions go off, followed by pandemonium, a freeze frame and a flash-backward through the preceding 19 minutes of the film.
The story starts again at noon, this time from Barnes' POV. He's understandably on edge, and with the exception of supportive Agent Taylor (Matthew Fox), most of his colleagues question his job-readiness. As he anxiously scans the crowd, an American tourist with a video camera (Forest Whitaker) catches his attention, as does a fluttering curtain in an upstairs window overlooking the square. In the chaos after the shooting, a long-haired plainclothes Spanish cop, Enrique Eduardo Noriega), draws his suspicion.
The action stops again and rewinds, as it will do several times more, to take viewers through the events immediately surrounding the attacks. Tedium, not depth, accumulates. Intended big reveals are ho-hum, and each retelling merely adds a piece or two of information, along with increasingly ludicrous action. On a foot chase through the city, Enrique bounces off speeding cars with superhuman resilience. Ayelet Zurer, Said Taghmaoui and Edgar Ramirez are among the murkily crisscrossing plotters, and a little girl and her Ice Cream cone show up in a bid for emotional connection.
Roving cameras, quick cuts and propulsive music keep things moving, but they can't make them matter. Playing barely conceptualized stock characters, the actors provide rudimentary performances. Bruce McGill and James LeGros are particularly stilted in small parts as advisers to the president. In his second role this year, after The Air I Breathe, in a Mexico City-shot ensemble piece that ill serves his talents, Whitaker errs on the side of emoting.
In the central role, one probably meant to evoke the kind of conflicted heroism of Clint Eastwood's character in In the Line of Fire, Quaid comes closest to suggesting a human being. With his clenched body language, he clearly is trying to get under Barnes' skin. But unlike Eastwood, Quaid is given nothing to work with in this hamfisted scenario.
VANTAGE POINT
Sony Pictures Entertainment
Columbia Pictures presents in association with Relativity Media an Original Film production
Credits:
Director: Pete Travis
Screenwriter: Barry L. Levy
Producer: Neal H. Moritz
Executive producers: Callum Greene, Tania Landau, Lynwood Spinks
Director of photography: Amir Mokri
Production designer: Brigitte Broch
Music: Atli Orvarsson
Co-producer: Ricardo Del Rio
Costume designer: Luca Mosca
Editor: Stuart Baird
Cast:
Thomas Barnes: Dennis Quaid
Kent Taylor: Matthew Fox
Howard Lewis: Forest Whitaker
Phil McCullough: Bruce McGill
Javier: Edgar Ramirez
Suarez: Said Taghmaoui
Veronica: Ayelet Zurer
Angie: Zoe Saldana
Rex Brooks: Sigourney Weaver
President Ashton: William Hurt
Enrique: Eduardo Noriega
Ted Heinkin: James LeGros
Holden: Richard T. Jones
Running time -- 89 minutes
MPAA rating: PG-13...
Director Pete Travis has assembled an international cast to exploit the vaguest of notions about terrorism in Barry L. Levy's script. Tracing a half-hour period of a calamitous day from multiple points of view, the screenplay tosses in an of-the-moment camcorder angle. But there's no rhyme, reason or intrigue in this story of a presidential assassination, and unintentional laughs outnumber the moments of suspense. Going out to 3,000-plus screens, the film is poised for a muscular performance at the boxoffice, but for moviegoers seeking a compelling, solid action-thriller, the best vantage point would be outside the theater.
The action -- the film is all incident and mechanics, with no context, reflection or resonance -- unfolds, over and over, in Salamanca, Spain. World leaders have gathered for a groundbreaking World Summit Against Terrorism, and the president of the United States (William Hurt) is about to speak at a midday rally in the city's Plaza Mejor. Production designer Brigitte Broch's replica of the square, constructed in Mexico, is an impressive feat. DP Amir Mokri's overhead of the throng, bright with waving flags and summer clothes, has an abstract sheen, and the opening scenes suggest an undertow of foreboding that only unravels as the story proceeds.
In a mobile studio near the plaza, a TV news producer, Rex (Sigourney Weaver, in a brief, by-the-numbers turn), orchestrates her channel's coverage of the event. She reins in an opinionated reporter (Zoe Saldana) and a roving cameraman from "sideshow" complexities like the anti-U.S. protesters on the periphery. Rex is surprised to see Thomas Barnes (Dennis Quaid) among the Secret Service agents accompanying POTUS to the rostrum. This is his first time back in the field since he took a bullet for the commander in chief a year earlier. Bullets seem to follow Barnes; President Ashton is shot moments after beginning his remarks. Two explosions go off, followed by pandemonium, a freeze frame and a flash-backward through the preceding 19 minutes of the film.
The story starts again at noon, this time from Barnes' POV. He's understandably on edge, and with the exception of supportive Agent Taylor (Matthew Fox), most of his colleagues question his job-readiness. As he anxiously scans the crowd, an American tourist with a video camera (Forest Whitaker) catches his attention, as does a fluttering curtain in an upstairs window overlooking the square. In the chaos after the shooting, a long-haired plainclothes Spanish cop, Enrique Eduardo Noriega), draws his suspicion.
The action stops again and rewinds, as it will do several times more, to take viewers through the events immediately surrounding the attacks. Tedium, not depth, accumulates. Intended big reveals are ho-hum, and each retelling merely adds a piece or two of information, along with increasingly ludicrous action. On a foot chase through the city, Enrique bounces off speeding cars with superhuman resilience. Ayelet Zurer, Said Taghmaoui and Edgar Ramirez are among the murkily crisscrossing plotters, and a little girl and her Ice Cream cone show up in a bid for emotional connection.
Roving cameras, quick cuts and propulsive music keep things moving, but they can't make them matter. Playing barely conceptualized stock characters, the actors provide rudimentary performances. Bruce McGill and James LeGros are particularly stilted in small parts as advisers to the president. In his second role this year, after The Air I Breathe, in a Mexico City-shot ensemble piece that ill serves his talents, Whitaker errs on the side of emoting.
In the central role, one probably meant to evoke the kind of conflicted heroism of Clint Eastwood's character in In the Line of Fire, Quaid comes closest to suggesting a human being. With his clenched body language, he clearly is trying to get under Barnes' skin. But unlike Eastwood, Quaid is given nothing to work with in this hamfisted scenario.
VANTAGE POINT
Sony Pictures Entertainment
Columbia Pictures presents in association with Relativity Media an Original Film production
Credits:
Director: Pete Travis
Screenwriter: Barry L. Levy
Producer: Neal H. Moritz
Executive producers: Callum Greene, Tania Landau, Lynwood Spinks
Director of photography: Amir Mokri
Production designer: Brigitte Broch
Music: Atli Orvarsson
Co-producer: Ricardo Del Rio
Costume designer: Luca Mosca
Editor: Stuart Baird
Cast:
Thomas Barnes: Dennis Quaid
Kent Taylor: Matthew Fox
Howard Lewis: Forest Whitaker
Phil McCullough: Bruce McGill
Javier: Edgar Ramirez
Suarez: Said Taghmaoui
Veronica: Ayelet Zurer
Angie: Zoe Saldana
Rex Brooks: Sigourney Weaver
President Ashton: William Hurt
Enrique: Eduardo Noriega
Ted Heinkin: James LeGros
Holden: Richard T. Jones
Running time -- 89 minutes
MPAA rating: PG-13...
- 2/22/2008
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
ASPEN -- Young stand-ups Kirk Fox and Shane Mauss, alternative performer Tim Minchin, sketch troupe Summer of Tears and solo performer Nilaja Sun were among the stage acts who won jury awards at the 13th annual U.S. Comedy Arts Festival during the weekend.
Female duo TastiSkank and John Oliver received the female and male breakout artist awards, marking the first time that USCAF awarded two such honors.
In USCAF's film program, the offbeat romantic comedy "Ira & Abby" won the award for best feature, and Taika Waititi's "Eagle vs. Shark", which chronicles the quirky romance of two misfits, took the honor for best screenplay. The feature film audience award went to Frank Oz's "Death at a Funeral", due out this summer from MGM.
Among the performance awards, Minchin, who has wowed people at festivals worldwide, won over audiences in Aspen with musical comedy and witty insights. Oliver won praise throughout USCAF for his offbeat and political humor.
"I want to thank Jesus and the Prophet Mohammad equally," Oliver said in accepting the award.
Mauss, based in Boston, scored with offbeat jokes about such things as bumper stickers that say "I am a child molester", a pessimistic girlfriend and a vegan friend who surprises you with coffee with soy milk.
Fox was signed by management firm 3 Arts Entertainment before the end of the festival. He earned rave reviews for his edgy sets, including jokes about such things as global warming and his mustache.
TastiSkank scored with edgy comedy, while Summer of Tears won positive reviews for their mix of sketches and produced videos.
Sun won for her one-woman show "No Child", an exploration of the New York public school system.
The USCAF jury also handed out a special award for comedy film performance to Wendi McLendon-Covey, who starred in two festival features, "Cook-Off!" and "Closing Escrow".
Jennifer Westfeldt ("Kissing Jessica Stein") was named best actress for her role in "Ira & Abby," and Jay Baruchel won the best actor award for his work in "I'm Reed Fish".
Tom DiCillio was honored as best director for his film "Delirious". The documentary award went to director Seth Gordon's humorous look at the world of high-stakes video gaming competitions, "The King of Kong". "Ice Cream, I Scream", about Ice Cream salesmen in Turkey, won the best foreign-language film award.
Female duo TastiSkank and John Oliver received the female and male breakout artist awards, marking the first time that USCAF awarded two such honors.
In USCAF's film program, the offbeat romantic comedy "Ira & Abby" won the award for best feature, and Taika Waititi's "Eagle vs. Shark", which chronicles the quirky romance of two misfits, took the honor for best screenplay. The feature film audience award went to Frank Oz's "Death at a Funeral", due out this summer from MGM.
Among the performance awards, Minchin, who has wowed people at festivals worldwide, won over audiences in Aspen with musical comedy and witty insights. Oliver won praise throughout USCAF for his offbeat and political humor.
"I want to thank Jesus and the Prophet Mohammad equally," Oliver said in accepting the award.
Mauss, based in Boston, scored with offbeat jokes about such things as bumper stickers that say "I am a child molester", a pessimistic girlfriend and a vegan friend who surprises you with coffee with soy milk.
Fox was signed by management firm 3 Arts Entertainment before the end of the festival. He earned rave reviews for his edgy sets, including jokes about such things as global warming and his mustache.
TastiSkank scored with edgy comedy, while Summer of Tears won positive reviews for their mix of sketches and produced videos.
Sun won for her one-woman show "No Child", an exploration of the New York public school system.
The USCAF jury also handed out a special award for comedy film performance to Wendi McLendon-Covey, who starred in two festival features, "Cook-Off!" and "Closing Escrow".
Jennifer Westfeldt ("Kissing Jessica Stein") was named best actress for her role in "Ira & Abby," and Jay Baruchel won the best actor award for his work in "I'm Reed Fish".
Tom DiCillio was honored as best director for his film "Delirious". The documentary award went to director Seth Gordon's humorous look at the world of high-stakes video gaming competitions, "The King of Kong". "Ice Cream, I Scream", about Ice Cream salesmen in Turkey, won the best foreign-language film award.
This review was written for the Toronto International Film Festival screening. TORONTO -- This year you are not going to find a more appalling, tasteless, grotesque, politically incorrect or slanderous film than "Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan." You probably won't laugh as hard all year either. For once it's true: "Borat" has to be seen to be believed. Like an exploding cesspool at a country club dinner. Or a strip show in a cathedral. You just might want to stay through the credit crawl too: The last shot is as funny as the first one.
"Borat" is a mockumentary revolving around one Borat Sagdiyev, a gangly, gray-suited journalist working for Kazakhstan's state-run TV network, who takes his mangled English and die-hard prejudices to America to make a documentary about life in the U.S. of A. Borat is the brainchild of British comic Sacha Baron Cohen, creator and star of HBO's "Da Ali G Show". The director of "Borat" is one of the inventors of modern TV comedy, Larry Charles, whose sure hand here shows that he has moved on from "Masked and Anonymous", his unfortunate first misstep in cinema.
"Borat" played to many empty seats at initial festival screenings last week. But in its final screenings, turn-away crowds showed up thanks to the buzz. Here amid all this serious, high-minded art, audiences were greedy for a movie where everything, truly everything, is inappropriate. Fox may have a hit with "Borat".
The movie begins in Kazakhstan (with Romania doing the honors), where Borat shows off his native village and its traditions. This includes the Running of the Jew, where young men flee down a corridor of terror before an individual in a huge mask that brings together just about every anti-Semitic caricature into one horrible visage. Borat then proudly introduces his sister, "the No. 4 prostitute in all of country."
He brings to America a host of prejudices so ingrained as to offend everyone he meets. His interview with a group of feminists revolves around his belief that a woman's brain is the size of a squirrel's. He is terrified of homosexuals, yet blithely practices his homeland's manly customs of men kissing each other and wrestling in the nude.
Borat is accompanied by his obese producer, Azamat Bagatov (Ken Davitian), who can't understand why they are crossing the country in a purchased Ice Cream truck instead of doing the interviews scheduled on the East Coast. He doesn't realize that his colleague has discovered his true love while watching reruns of "Baywatch" on TV: Pamela Anderson. Because she lives in California, that is now the promised land. He means to marry her Kazakhstan-style, which requires a burlap sack.
On the road, Borat takes hip-hop lessons from black youths. He tries to purchase a gun to protect himself from Jews. (He buys a bear instead.) He draws cheers from a crowd at a rodeo by chanting, "May George Bush drink the blood of every man, woman and child in Iraq!" He invites a large prostitute to a dinner party of religious conservatives.
The high point -- which also is the low point -- comes when he and his producer get into a very physical fight in their hotel room over Anderson, which spills into the hall, an elevator, the lobby and finally a convention in a banquet room. They are both Buck Naked, which is not a pretty sight.
So, is "Borat" a modern-day version of those old Polish jokes? The movie will have its detractors and defenders, but it's pretty clear the satiric attack isn't on bigotry so much as its origins -- superstitions, traditions, ancestral animosities and beliefs in cultural and gender superiority, all firmly rooted in dire ignorance.
The weapon wielded by Cohen and Charles is crudeness. People today, especially those in public life, can disguise prejudice in coded language and soft tones. Bigotry is ever so polite now. So the filmmakers mean to drag the beast out into the sunlight of brilliant satire and let everyone see the rotting, stinking, foul thing for what it is. When you laugh at something that is bad, it loses much of its power.
"Borat" is a mockumentary revolving around one Borat Sagdiyev, a gangly, gray-suited journalist working for Kazakhstan's state-run TV network, who takes his mangled English and die-hard prejudices to America to make a documentary about life in the U.S. of A. Borat is the brainchild of British comic Sacha Baron Cohen, creator and star of HBO's "Da Ali G Show". The director of "Borat" is one of the inventors of modern TV comedy, Larry Charles, whose sure hand here shows that he has moved on from "Masked and Anonymous", his unfortunate first misstep in cinema.
"Borat" played to many empty seats at initial festival screenings last week. But in its final screenings, turn-away crowds showed up thanks to the buzz. Here amid all this serious, high-minded art, audiences were greedy for a movie where everything, truly everything, is inappropriate. Fox may have a hit with "Borat".
The movie begins in Kazakhstan (with Romania doing the honors), where Borat shows off his native village and its traditions. This includes the Running of the Jew, where young men flee down a corridor of terror before an individual in a huge mask that brings together just about every anti-Semitic caricature into one horrible visage. Borat then proudly introduces his sister, "the No. 4 prostitute in all of country."
He brings to America a host of prejudices so ingrained as to offend everyone he meets. His interview with a group of feminists revolves around his belief that a woman's brain is the size of a squirrel's. He is terrified of homosexuals, yet blithely practices his homeland's manly customs of men kissing each other and wrestling in the nude.
Borat is accompanied by his obese producer, Azamat Bagatov (Ken Davitian), who can't understand why they are crossing the country in a purchased Ice Cream truck instead of doing the interviews scheduled on the East Coast. He doesn't realize that his colleague has discovered his true love while watching reruns of "Baywatch" on TV: Pamela Anderson. Because she lives in California, that is now the promised land. He means to marry her Kazakhstan-style, which requires a burlap sack.
On the road, Borat takes hip-hop lessons from black youths. He tries to purchase a gun to protect himself from Jews. (He buys a bear instead.) He draws cheers from a crowd at a rodeo by chanting, "May George Bush drink the blood of every man, woman and child in Iraq!" He invites a large prostitute to a dinner party of religious conservatives.
The high point -- which also is the low point -- comes when he and his producer get into a very physical fight in their hotel room over Anderson, which spills into the hall, an elevator, the lobby and finally a convention in a banquet room. They are both Buck Naked, which is not a pretty sight.
So, is "Borat" a modern-day version of those old Polish jokes? The movie will have its detractors and defenders, but it's pretty clear the satiric attack isn't on bigotry so much as its origins -- superstitions, traditions, ancestral animosities and beliefs in cultural and gender superiority, all firmly rooted in dire ignorance.
The weapon wielded by Cohen and Charles is crudeness. People today, especially those in public life, can disguise prejudice in coded language and soft tones. Bigotry is ever so polite now. So the filmmakers mean to drag the beast out into the sunlight of brilliant satire and let everyone see the rotting, stinking, foul thing for what it is. When you laugh at something that is bad, it loses much of its power.
- 11/1/2006
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
TORONTO -- This year you are not going to find a more appalling, tasteless, grotesque, politically incorrect or slanderous film than "Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan." You probably won't laugh as hard all year either. For once it's true: Borat has to be seen to be believed. Like an exploding cesspool at a country club dinner. Or a strip show in a cathedral. You just might want to stay through the credit crawl too: The last shot is as funny as the first one.
Borat is a mockumentary revolving around one Borat Sagdiyev, a gangly, gray-suited journalist working for Kazakhstan's state-run TV network, who takes his mangled English and die-hard prejudices to America to make a documentary about life in the U.S. of A. Borat is the brainchild of British comic Sacha Baron Cohen, creator and star of HBO's Da Ali G Show. The director of Borat is one of the inventors of modern TV comedy, Larry Charles, whose sure hand here shows that he has moved on from Masked and Anonymous, his unfortunate first misstep in cinema.
Borat played to many empty seats at initial festival screenings last week. But in its final screenings, turn-away crowds showed up thanks to the buzz. Here amid all this serious, high-minded art, audiences were greedy for a movie where everything, truly everything, is inappropriate. Fox may have a hit with Borat.
The movie begins in Kazakhstan (with Romania doing the honors), where Borat shows off his native village and its traditions. This includes the Running of the Jew, where young men flee down a corridor of terror before an individual in a huge mask that brings together just about every anti-Semitic caricature into one horrible visage. Borat then proudly introduces his sister, "the No. 4 prostitute in all of country."
He brings to America a host of prejudices so ingrained as to offend everyone he meets. His interview with a group of feminists revolves around his belief that a woman's brain is the size of a squirrel's. He is terrified of homosexuals, yet blithely practices his homeland's manly customs of men kissing each other and wrestling in the nude.
Borat is accompanied by his obese producer, Azamat Bagatov (Ken Davitian), who can't understand why they are crossing the country in a purchased Ice Cream truck instead of doing the interviews scheduled on the East Coast. He doesn't realize that his colleague has discovered his true love while watching reruns of Baywatch on TV: Pamela Anderson. Because she lives in California, that is now the promised land. He means to marry her Kazakhstan-style, which requires a burlap sack.
On the road, Borat takes hip-hop lessons from black youths. He tries to purchase a gun to protect himself from Jews. (He buys a bear instead.) He draws cheers from a crowd at a rodeo by chanting, "May George Bush drink the blood of every man, woman and child in Iraq!" He invites a large prostitute to a dinner party of religious conservatives.
The high point -- which also is the low point -- comes when he and his producer get into a very physical fight in their hotel room over Anderson, which spills into the hall, an elevator, the lobby and finally a convention in a banquet room. They are both Buck Naked, which is not a pretty sight.
So, is Borat a modern-day version of those old Polish jokes? The movie will have its detractors and defenders, but it's pretty clear the satiric attack isn't on bigotry so much as its origins -- superstitions, traditions, ancestral animosities and beliefs in cultural and gender superiority, all firmly rooted in dire ignorance.
The weapon wielded by Cohen and Charles is crudeness. People today, especially those in public life, can disguise prejudice in coded language and soft tones. Bigotry is ever so polite now. So the filmmakers mean to drag the beast out into the sunlight of brilliant satire and let everyone see the rotting, stinking, foul thing for what it is. When you laugh at something that is bad, it loses much of its power.
BORAT: CULTURAL LEANINGS OF AMERICA FOR MAKE BENEFIT GLORIOUS NATION OF KAZAKHSTAN
20th Century Fox
One America/Everyman Pictures
Credits:
Director: Larry Charles
Screenwriters: Sacha Baron Cohen, Anthony Hines, Peter Baynham, Don Mazer
Producers: Sacha Baron Cohen, Jay Roach
Executive producers: Dan Mazer, Monica Levinson
Director of photography: Anthony Hardwick, Luke Geissbuhler
Production designer: David Maturana
Costumes: Jason Alper
Music: Erran Baron Cohen
Editors: Peter Teschner, James Thomas
Cast:
Borat Sagdiyev: Sacha Baron Cohen
Herself: Pamela Anderson
Azamat Bagatov: Ken Davitian
MPAA rating R
Running time -- 83 minutes...
Borat is a mockumentary revolving around one Borat Sagdiyev, a gangly, gray-suited journalist working for Kazakhstan's state-run TV network, who takes his mangled English and die-hard prejudices to America to make a documentary about life in the U.S. of A. Borat is the brainchild of British comic Sacha Baron Cohen, creator and star of HBO's Da Ali G Show. The director of Borat is one of the inventors of modern TV comedy, Larry Charles, whose sure hand here shows that he has moved on from Masked and Anonymous, his unfortunate first misstep in cinema.
Borat played to many empty seats at initial festival screenings last week. But in its final screenings, turn-away crowds showed up thanks to the buzz. Here amid all this serious, high-minded art, audiences were greedy for a movie where everything, truly everything, is inappropriate. Fox may have a hit with Borat.
The movie begins in Kazakhstan (with Romania doing the honors), where Borat shows off his native village and its traditions. This includes the Running of the Jew, where young men flee down a corridor of terror before an individual in a huge mask that brings together just about every anti-Semitic caricature into one horrible visage. Borat then proudly introduces his sister, "the No. 4 prostitute in all of country."
He brings to America a host of prejudices so ingrained as to offend everyone he meets. His interview with a group of feminists revolves around his belief that a woman's brain is the size of a squirrel's. He is terrified of homosexuals, yet blithely practices his homeland's manly customs of men kissing each other and wrestling in the nude.
Borat is accompanied by his obese producer, Azamat Bagatov (Ken Davitian), who can't understand why they are crossing the country in a purchased Ice Cream truck instead of doing the interviews scheduled on the East Coast. He doesn't realize that his colleague has discovered his true love while watching reruns of Baywatch on TV: Pamela Anderson. Because she lives in California, that is now the promised land. He means to marry her Kazakhstan-style, which requires a burlap sack.
On the road, Borat takes hip-hop lessons from black youths. He tries to purchase a gun to protect himself from Jews. (He buys a bear instead.) He draws cheers from a crowd at a rodeo by chanting, "May George Bush drink the blood of every man, woman and child in Iraq!" He invites a large prostitute to a dinner party of religious conservatives.
The high point -- which also is the low point -- comes when he and his producer get into a very physical fight in their hotel room over Anderson, which spills into the hall, an elevator, the lobby and finally a convention in a banquet room. They are both Buck Naked, which is not a pretty sight.
So, is Borat a modern-day version of those old Polish jokes? The movie will have its detractors and defenders, but it's pretty clear the satiric attack isn't on bigotry so much as its origins -- superstitions, traditions, ancestral animosities and beliefs in cultural and gender superiority, all firmly rooted in dire ignorance.
The weapon wielded by Cohen and Charles is crudeness. People today, especially those in public life, can disguise prejudice in coded language and soft tones. Bigotry is ever so polite now. So the filmmakers mean to drag the beast out into the sunlight of brilliant satire and let everyone see the rotting, stinking, foul thing for what it is. When you laugh at something that is bad, it loses much of its power.
BORAT: CULTURAL LEANINGS OF AMERICA FOR MAKE BENEFIT GLORIOUS NATION OF KAZAKHSTAN
20th Century Fox
One America/Everyman Pictures
Credits:
Director: Larry Charles
Screenwriters: Sacha Baron Cohen, Anthony Hines, Peter Baynham, Don Mazer
Producers: Sacha Baron Cohen, Jay Roach
Executive producers: Dan Mazer, Monica Levinson
Director of photography: Anthony Hardwick, Luke Geissbuhler
Production designer: David Maturana
Costumes: Jason Alper
Music: Erran Baron Cohen
Editors: Peter Teschner, James Thomas
Cast:
Borat Sagdiyev: Sacha Baron Cohen
Herself: Pamela Anderson
Azamat Bagatov: Ken Davitian
MPAA rating R
Running time -- 83 minutes...
- 9/12/2006
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
The board of entertainment giant Viacom Inc. is expected Tuesday to discuss and possibly approve a proposed split of the company into two entities ... The board of Blockbuster Inc. on Monday urged shareholders to re-elect CEO John Antioco and other incumbent directors rather than an alternate slate offered by major shareholder Carl Icahn ... Bandai Co. said that it will purchase video game maker Namco Ltd. for about $1.7 billion ... Marvel Enterprises said that it has expanded licensing deals with Unilever Ice Cream and Brach's Confections.
"Chill Factor" is a B movie tricked out with first-class production values and an Oscar-winning actor. Cuba Gooding Jr.'s first outing as an action star will likely attract a few curious souls during Warner Bros.' domestic release. But the Morgan Creek production will probably play better overseas and in ancillary markets where such preposterous cliffhanging will be embraced as corny fun.
This chase movie -- with the chase occupying roughly 85% of the footage -- borrows unashamedly from many better movies, ranging from "Speed" to "The Wages of Fear". Gooding is paired with Skeet Ulrich as a couple of Joes plucked from small-town obscurity to save the world, or at least a large corner of the United States, from apocalyptic ruin.
The MacGuffin in this instance is a highly volatile doomsday chemical formula secretly developed by the U.S. government for germ warfare. This chemical goo will activate at the temperature of 50 degrees.
Gooding happens to be driving a rickety though refrigerated Ice Cream truck; Ulrich gets handed the chemical goo by David Paymer's dying scientist with instructions to drive it to an army base 90 miles away; Ulrich hijacks Gooding's truck with Gooding along for the ride; and a team of Really Bad Guys, headed by disgruntled ex-Army officer Peter Firth, is hot on the two men's trail.
Making certain that one damn thing will lead to another, writers Drew Gitlin and Mike Cheda mix in relentlessly stupid cops, plus an army and a phalanx of news media that somehow fail to notice a day's worth of exploding trucks, gunfire and monumental traffic accidents over that 90-mile route.
Gooding and Ulrich acquit themselves reasonably well as the unlikely and reluctant partners. Their good-natured bantering certainly makes the film as watchable as it is. But one can't help wondering if "Chill Factor" was really the best script to come their way when they agreed to do the movie.
As the vehicles race through a landscape that the story insists is Montana but is clearly the Southwest, tyro director Hugh Johnson keeps the movie sharply focused on action. The cinematography, along with all the stunts, technical effects and editing, are outstanding.
But the film suffers from too much calculation. One feels the filmmakers strain to push the stunts and twist the plot to cram more and more "thrills" into a tissue-thin story line.
The effect is less thrilling than wearying. Action overload can doom the most mindless of entertainments. "Chill Factor" comes perilously close to melting down itself before the chemical substance does.
CHILL FACTOR
Warner Bros.
James G. Robinson presents
a Morgan Creek Production
Producer: James G. Robinson
Director: Hugh Johnson
Writers: Drew Gitlin, Mike Cheda
Executive producers: Jonathan A. Zimbert, Bill Bannerman
Director of photography: David Gribble
Production designer: Jeremy Conway
Music: Hans Zimmer, John Powell
Costume designer: Deborah Everton
Editor: Pamela Power
Color/stereo
Cast:
Arlo: Cuba Gooding Jr.
Tim Mason: Skeet Ulrich
Captain Andrew Brynner: Peter Firth
Dr. Richard Long: David Paymer
Vaughn: Hudson Leick
Col. Leo Vitelli: Daniel Hugh Kelly
Telstar: Kevin J. O'Connor
Running time -- 93 minutes
MPAA rating: R...
This chase movie -- with the chase occupying roughly 85% of the footage -- borrows unashamedly from many better movies, ranging from "Speed" to "The Wages of Fear". Gooding is paired with Skeet Ulrich as a couple of Joes plucked from small-town obscurity to save the world, or at least a large corner of the United States, from apocalyptic ruin.
The MacGuffin in this instance is a highly volatile doomsday chemical formula secretly developed by the U.S. government for germ warfare. This chemical goo will activate at the temperature of 50 degrees.
Gooding happens to be driving a rickety though refrigerated Ice Cream truck; Ulrich gets handed the chemical goo by David Paymer's dying scientist with instructions to drive it to an army base 90 miles away; Ulrich hijacks Gooding's truck with Gooding along for the ride; and a team of Really Bad Guys, headed by disgruntled ex-Army officer Peter Firth, is hot on the two men's trail.
Making certain that one damn thing will lead to another, writers Drew Gitlin and Mike Cheda mix in relentlessly stupid cops, plus an army and a phalanx of news media that somehow fail to notice a day's worth of exploding trucks, gunfire and monumental traffic accidents over that 90-mile route.
Gooding and Ulrich acquit themselves reasonably well as the unlikely and reluctant partners. Their good-natured bantering certainly makes the film as watchable as it is. But one can't help wondering if "Chill Factor" was really the best script to come their way when they agreed to do the movie.
As the vehicles race through a landscape that the story insists is Montana but is clearly the Southwest, tyro director Hugh Johnson keeps the movie sharply focused on action. The cinematography, along with all the stunts, technical effects and editing, are outstanding.
But the film suffers from too much calculation. One feels the filmmakers strain to push the stunts and twist the plot to cram more and more "thrills" into a tissue-thin story line.
The effect is less thrilling than wearying. Action overload can doom the most mindless of entertainments. "Chill Factor" comes perilously close to melting down itself before the chemical substance does.
CHILL FACTOR
Warner Bros.
James G. Robinson presents
a Morgan Creek Production
Producer: James G. Robinson
Director: Hugh Johnson
Writers: Drew Gitlin, Mike Cheda
Executive producers: Jonathan A. Zimbert, Bill Bannerman
Director of photography: David Gribble
Production designer: Jeremy Conway
Music: Hans Zimmer, John Powell
Costume designer: Deborah Everton
Editor: Pamela Power
Color/stereo
Cast:
Arlo: Cuba Gooding Jr.
Tim Mason: Skeet Ulrich
Captain Andrew Brynner: Peter Firth
Dr. Richard Long: David Paymer
Vaughn: Hudson Leick
Col. Leo Vitelli: Daniel Hugh Kelly
Telstar: Kevin J. O'Connor
Running time -- 93 minutes
MPAA rating: R...
- 8/27/1999
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
A killer for hire whose big clients are cartoon-watching Mafiosi who can't pay the rent on time, the deadly serious lead character in Jim Jarmusch's moderately successful competition entry is an enigma who doesn't have a line of dialogue until 45 minutes into the film. What is provided in the way of illuminating the character's mindset are excerpts from a book about Samurai warriors who possess an uncompromising sense of loyalty, and daily are so prepared to die they already consider themselves "dead."
Much funnier and less consequential than the Indie filmmaker's loved and loathed western "Dead Man", "Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai" has commercial promise. It is a satisfactorily provoking and offbeat take on the otherwise tired hitman genre until the violence starts escalating in the final act. Overall, the most glaring deficiency is the lack of a significant payoff in the peculiar destiny of the title character, played splendidly by Forest Whitaker.
Jarmusch is a strong director and adeptly steers clear of a conventional narrative in "Ghost Dog", but the results are somewhat mixed when it comes to the cast of characters, particularly the aforementioned gangsters led by Henry Silva. John Tormey stands out as Louie, the "master" who once saved the life of rooftop-dwelling Ghost Dog and communicates with him via messenger pigeons. Apart from Cliff Gorman's spirited turn, the rest of the thugs are shallow caricatures whose denseness grows tiresome.
The simple story finds Ghost Dog on the outs with his employers when they hire him to whack a "made man" and then seek in-house retribution. But the shadowy, nearly friendless assassin is not one to be caught unprepared. Although his vows forbid him to question or harm his master, when he knows he's a target, the efficient killer goes after the other mobsters. Unfortunately, Jarmusch includes a few too many jokey killings that sour the conclusion.
French-speaking Isaach De Bankole ("Night on Earth") is a welcome addition as an Ice Cream vendor who oddly communicates perfectly with the English-only Ghost Dog. Camille Winbush is also memorable as a little girl that the lead discusses books with and who seems destined also to adopt the "ancient ways" in a changing world.
GHOST DOG: THE WAY OF THE SAMURAI
JVC, BAC Films, Le Sudio Canal Plus present
In association with Pandora Film and ARD/Degeto Film
A Plywood production
Writer-director:Jim Jarmusch
Producer:Richard Guay, Jim Jarmusch
Director of photography:Robby Muller
Production designer:Ted Berner
Editor:Jay Rabinowitz
Music:RZA
Costume designer:John Dunn
Color/stereo
Cast:
Ghost Dog:Forest Whitaker
Louie:John Tormey
Ray Vargo:Henry Silva
Raymond:Isaach De Bankole
Pearline:Camille Winbush
Running time -- 116 minutes...
Much funnier and less consequential than the Indie filmmaker's loved and loathed western "Dead Man", "Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai" has commercial promise. It is a satisfactorily provoking and offbeat take on the otherwise tired hitman genre until the violence starts escalating in the final act. Overall, the most glaring deficiency is the lack of a significant payoff in the peculiar destiny of the title character, played splendidly by Forest Whitaker.
Jarmusch is a strong director and adeptly steers clear of a conventional narrative in "Ghost Dog", but the results are somewhat mixed when it comes to the cast of characters, particularly the aforementioned gangsters led by Henry Silva. John Tormey stands out as Louie, the "master" who once saved the life of rooftop-dwelling Ghost Dog and communicates with him via messenger pigeons. Apart from Cliff Gorman's spirited turn, the rest of the thugs are shallow caricatures whose denseness grows tiresome.
The simple story finds Ghost Dog on the outs with his employers when they hire him to whack a "made man" and then seek in-house retribution. But the shadowy, nearly friendless assassin is not one to be caught unprepared. Although his vows forbid him to question or harm his master, when he knows he's a target, the efficient killer goes after the other mobsters. Unfortunately, Jarmusch includes a few too many jokey killings that sour the conclusion.
French-speaking Isaach De Bankole ("Night on Earth") is a welcome addition as an Ice Cream vendor who oddly communicates perfectly with the English-only Ghost Dog. Camille Winbush is also memorable as a little girl that the lead discusses books with and who seems destined also to adopt the "ancient ways" in a changing world.
GHOST DOG: THE WAY OF THE SAMURAI
JVC, BAC Films, Le Sudio Canal Plus present
In association with Pandora Film and ARD/Degeto Film
A Plywood production
Writer-director:Jim Jarmusch
Producer:Richard Guay, Jim Jarmusch
Director of photography:Robby Muller
Production designer:Ted Berner
Editor:Jay Rabinowitz
Music:RZA
Costume designer:John Dunn
Color/stereo
Cast:
Ghost Dog:Forest Whitaker
Louie:John Tormey
Ray Vargo:Henry Silva
Raymond:Isaach De Bankole
Pearline:Camille Winbush
Running time -- 116 minutes...
- 5/20/1999
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
Iran is the critical darling among international film enthusiasts these days, with seemingly every film emerging from that nation hailed as a masterpiece.
"The Apple", directed by the 17-year-old daughter of Mohsen Makhmalbaf, one of Iran's leading filmmakers (he also provided the screenplay), may test that relationship. A compelling argument against nepotism, it is a tedious ordeal that is bound to test to the patience of art house audiences. Recently showcased at the New York Film Festival, it will be released commercially by New Yorker Films.
"The Apple" is a sort of pseudo-documentary in which the real-life participants in a locally notorious incident were asked to recreate their experiences. Tehran citizen Massoumeh is reported to the authorities by his neighbors because he has kept his 12-year-old twin daughters locked up in the house all their lives. A social worker promptly frees the girls, and the film is chiefly concerned with illustrating what happens when they experience the outside world for the first time.
Whatever political and social issues the film seeks to illuminate are obscured by endlessly repetitive sequences in which the elderly father protests his mistreatment at the hands of the government, neighbors and the social worker (turning the tables, she locks him in his house). Meanwhile, the girls wander around the neighborhood, encountering other children and various animals and experiencing such previously denied pleasures as Ice Cream.
The all-too-symbolic apple that lends the film its title is dangled by a string in front of the girls by a neighborhood boy, forever out of reach. Although the nonprofessional cast certainly invest the proceedings with a rare degree of realism, it is unfortunately not enough to provide a satisfying cinematic experience.
THE APPLE
New Yorker Films
Director: Samira Makhmalbaf
Screenplay: Mohsen Makhmalbaf
Producers: Marin Karmitz, Veronique Cayla
Executive producer: Iraj Sarbaz
Photography: Ebrahim Ghafori, Mohammad Ahmadi
Editor: Mohsen Makhmalbaf
Color
Cast:
Massoumeh: Massoumeh Naderi
Zahra: Zahra Naderi
Father: Ghorbanali Naderi
Azizeh Mohamadi: Zahra Saghrisaz
Running time -- 85 minutes
No MPAA rating...
"The Apple", directed by the 17-year-old daughter of Mohsen Makhmalbaf, one of Iran's leading filmmakers (he also provided the screenplay), may test that relationship. A compelling argument against nepotism, it is a tedious ordeal that is bound to test to the patience of art house audiences. Recently showcased at the New York Film Festival, it will be released commercially by New Yorker Films.
"The Apple" is a sort of pseudo-documentary in which the real-life participants in a locally notorious incident were asked to recreate their experiences. Tehran citizen Massoumeh is reported to the authorities by his neighbors because he has kept his 12-year-old twin daughters locked up in the house all their lives. A social worker promptly frees the girls, and the film is chiefly concerned with illustrating what happens when they experience the outside world for the first time.
Whatever political and social issues the film seeks to illuminate are obscured by endlessly repetitive sequences in which the elderly father protests his mistreatment at the hands of the government, neighbors and the social worker (turning the tables, she locks him in his house). Meanwhile, the girls wander around the neighborhood, encountering other children and various animals and experiencing such previously denied pleasures as Ice Cream.
The all-too-symbolic apple that lends the film its title is dangled by a string in front of the girls by a neighborhood boy, forever out of reach. Although the nonprofessional cast certainly invest the proceedings with a rare degree of realism, it is unfortunately not enough to provide a satisfying cinematic experience.
THE APPLE
New Yorker Films
Director: Samira Makhmalbaf
Screenplay: Mohsen Makhmalbaf
Producers: Marin Karmitz, Veronique Cayla
Executive producer: Iraj Sarbaz
Photography: Ebrahim Ghafori, Mohammad Ahmadi
Editor: Mohsen Makhmalbaf
Color
Cast:
Massoumeh: Massoumeh Naderi
Zahra: Zahra Naderi
Father: Ghorbanali Naderi
Azizeh Mohamadi: Zahra Saghrisaz
Running time -- 85 minutes
No MPAA rating...
- 10/2/1998
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
A fractured, comic folly about life in roadside-attraction America, Morgan J. Freeman's "Desert Blue" is a rollicking, off-road venture that will tickle the sensibilities of independent film fans. Wonderfully loony and touching, it played to wildly enthusiastic acclaim at the Toronto International Film Festival.
Set smack-dab on the fringes of an eastern California town passed up by the interstate, it's a hilarious look at people who live outside the lines of power. In this case, Baxter (population 89) is, essentially, a ghost town gone belly up after the mines closed. Its dubious claim to fame is the world's tallest Ice Cream cone, erected to generate tourist business. Less well-known is that it's also home to Baxter Beach, the world's creakiest unfinished ocean park and the inspired dream of one of the town's late crackpots who figured if you have sand, it's ridiculous not to have a beach.
Into town wanders a professor of popular culture (John Heard) who has lugged his ungrateful, TV actress daughter (Kate Hudson) on a tour of U.S. back roads. The good, goofy professor chronicles American oddities, peculiarities of small-town boosterism -- burgs that build things such as huge thermometers and palaces made of corn to attract attention and economic interest.
Structurally, "Desert Blue" ambles out like an old-time western as the professor and his daughter encounter the coots and crazies who eke out a living in the tumble-down town. As soon as they get there, however, a trucker toting ingredients for a newfangled soda is killed in a highway accident. The authorities surmise that he was somehow poisoned by the contents of his load.
No sooner than you can say "bring in the outsiders," the FBI and EPA arrive in storm-trooper force and quarantine the town. This causes great consternation among the townsfolk: It will upset their daily routines of drinking, off-road biking and mucking about.
While the plot is not particularly remarkable, the storytelling and capture of locale and mind-set is cunningly brainy. Writer-director Freeman (who did "Hurricane Streets", which won the 1997 Sundance Audience Award) has wired together a most-peculiar pastiche of folks living on society's fringes.
The story line is wacky yet endearingly affecting, in part because of strong, offbeat performances from a cast led by Christina Ricci, who is hilarious as an angry young girl who gets her kicks from blowing things up. She's a virtual one-woman demolition derby. And Casey Affleck is a kick as a rowdy whose only dream is to defend his all-terrain vehicle racing championship.
Among more-normal characters, relatively speaking, Brendan Sexton III is sympathetic as a young man who bears a tremendous personal cross, while Hudson's tawny performance as a TV starlet is altogether appealing.
But its shady squint on life gives "Desert Blue" its sheen. Freeman has wired together a terrific slant on Americana; it's neither condescending nor judgmental. In fact, it's oddly inspiring.
DESERT BLUE
Ignite Entertainment
A film by Morgan J. Freeman
Producers: Andrea Sperling, Nadia Leonelli,
Michael Burns
Screenwriter-director: Morgan J. Freeman
Executive producers: Leanna Creel,
Marc Butan, Kip Hagopian
Co-producers: Gill Holland, A. Carter Pottash
Director of photography: Enrique Chediak
Editor: Sabine Hoffman
Production designer: David Doernberg
Music: Vytas Nagisetty
Music supervisor: Tracy McNight
Sound designers: Margaret Crimmins,
Paul D. Hsu
Costume designer: Trish Summerville
Casting: Susan Shopmaker
Color/stereo
Cast:
Blue: Brendan Sexton III
Skye: Kate Hudson
Ely: Christina Ricci
Pete: Casey Affleck
Sandy: Sarah Gilbert
Lance: John Heard
Caroline: Lucina Jenney
Running time -- 92 minutes
No MPAA rating...
Set smack-dab on the fringes of an eastern California town passed up by the interstate, it's a hilarious look at people who live outside the lines of power. In this case, Baxter (population 89) is, essentially, a ghost town gone belly up after the mines closed. Its dubious claim to fame is the world's tallest Ice Cream cone, erected to generate tourist business. Less well-known is that it's also home to Baxter Beach, the world's creakiest unfinished ocean park and the inspired dream of one of the town's late crackpots who figured if you have sand, it's ridiculous not to have a beach.
Into town wanders a professor of popular culture (John Heard) who has lugged his ungrateful, TV actress daughter (Kate Hudson) on a tour of U.S. back roads. The good, goofy professor chronicles American oddities, peculiarities of small-town boosterism -- burgs that build things such as huge thermometers and palaces made of corn to attract attention and economic interest.
Structurally, "Desert Blue" ambles out like an old-time western as the professor and his daughter encounter the coots and crazies who eke out a living in the tumble-down town. As soon as they get there, however, a trucker toting ingredients for a newfangled soda is killed in a highway accident. The authorities surmise that he was somehow poisoned by the contents of his load.
No sooner than you can say "bring in the outsiders," the FBI and EPA arrive in storm-trooper force and quarantine the town. This causes great consternation among the townsfolk: It will upset their daily routines of drinking, off-road biking and mucking about.
While the plot is not particularly remarkable, the storytelling and capture of locale and mind-set is cunningly brainy. Writer-director Freeman (who did "Hurricane Streets", which won the 1997 Sundance Audience Award) has wired together a most-peculiar pastiche of folks living on society's fringes.
The story line is wacky yet endearingly affecting, in part because of strong, offbeat performances from a cast led by Christina Ricci, who is hilarious as an angry young girl who gets her kicks from blowing things up. She's a virtual one-woman demolition derby. And Casey Affleck is a kick as a rowdy whose only dream is to defend his all-terrain vehicle racing championship.
Among more-normal characters, relatively speaking, Brendan Sexton III is sympathetic as a young man who bears a tremendous personal cross, while Hudson's tawny performance as a TV starlet is altogether appealing.
But its shady squint on life gives "Desert Blue" its sheen. Freeman has wired together a terrific slant on Americana; it's neither condescending nor judgmental. In fact, it's oddly inspiring.
DESERT BLUE
Ignite Entertainment
A film by Morgan J. Freeman
Producers: Andrea Sperling, Nadia Leonelli,
Michael Burns
Screenwriter-director: Morgan J. Freeman
Executive producers: Leanna Creel,
Marc Butan, Kip Hagopian
Co-producers: Gill Holland, A. Carter Pottash
Director of photography: Enrique Chediak
Editor: Sabine Hoffman
Production designer: David Doernberg
Music: Vytas Nagisetty
Music supervisor: Tracy McNight
Sound designers: Margaret Crimmins,
Paul D. Hsu
Costume designer: Trish Summerville
Casting: Susan Shopmaker
Color/stereo
Cast:
Blue: Brendan Sexton III
Skye: Kate Hudson
Ely: Christina Ricci
Pete: Casey Affleck
Sandy: Sarah Gilbert
Lance: John Heard
Caroline: Lucina Jenney
Running time -- 92 minutes
No MPAA rating...
- 9/16/1998
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
The most original aspect of "Nowheresville", a low-budget comedy-romance, is the writer-director credit. Bishop Trout is the team moniker for co-producers Randall Harvey and Alex Mindt, Seattle-based filmmakers with several shorts and stage productions on their resumes.
"Nowheresville" made its world premiere recently at the Wine Country Film Festival in Northern California. Well-made and mildly diverting, the tale of friends, lovers and mates-to-be is predictable but sweet-natured. However, its commercial prospects are frankly nowaysville in a flooded marketplace.
"Like a river that don't know where it's flowing" is how one character describes love, quoting the Bruce Springsteen song "Hungry Heart". Unfortunately, one can't say the same for the scenario of this film, which opens with matter-of-fact philosopher Mike Mark Berry) introducing the small cast of players while dressing in formal wear for his own wedding.
Of course, the ultimate trick is guessing to whom Mike is getting hitched. Thankfully, the filmmakers don't overplay the gambit as Mike is mostly peripheral to the main action.
The primary players include manic, used-to-be-a-drunk Tom (Henri Lubatti), notorious for his dramatic approach to just about everything. In a seemingly healthy relationship with perky guy-saver Jenny Kim Tyler), Tom is set to pop the question in an elaborate scheme set at a Chinese restaurant.
Mike and Tom's best friend, Lillian (Kim Evey), are co-conspirators in a plan that includes a ring hidden in Ice Cream and the proposal inside a Fortune Cookie. In the days leading to the big event, however, Tom and Lillian realize that they have more than an intimate friendship. Maybe Tom is asking the wrong girl to walk down the aisle.
With supporting characters that are uniformly irritating, from Jenny's dysfunctional parents to a flower shop owner who goes ballistic when Tom and Lillian stand frozen and watch his store robbed by an old woman, "Nowheresville" rarely delves beneath the surface to explore what motivates the leads beyond their obvious longing for true love.
NOWHERESVILLE
Trout Films
Writer-director: Bishop Trout
Producers: Alex Mindt, Randall Harvey, Kim Tyler
Director of photography: Christopher Bell
Editors: Timothy Demmons, David Culp
Color/stereo
Cast:
Tom: Henri Lubatti
Lillian: Kim Evey
Jenny: Kim Tyler
Mike: Mark Berry
Running time -- 98 minutes
No MPAA rating...
"Nowheresville" made its world premiere recently at the Wine Country Film Festival in Northern California. Well-made and mildly diverting, the tale of friends, lovers and mates-to-be is predictable but sweet-natured. However, its commercial prospects are frankly nowaysville in a flooded marketplace.
"Like a river that don't know where it's flowing" is how one character describes love, quoting the Bruce Springsteen song "Hungry Heart". Unfortunately, one can't say the same for the scenario of this film, which opens with matter-of-fact philosopher Mike Mark Berry) introducing the small cast of players while dressing in formal wear for his own wedding.
Of course, the ultimate trick is guessing to whom Mike is getting hitched. Thankfully, the filmmakers don't overplay the gambit as Mike is mostly peripheral to the main action.
The primary players include manic, used-to-be-a-drunk Tom (Henri Lubatti), notorious for his dramatic approach to just about everything. In a seemingly healthy relationship with perky guy-saver Jenny Kim Tyler), Tom is set to pop the question in an elaborate scheme set at a Chinese restaurant.
Mike and Tom's best friend, Lillian (Kim Evey), are co-conspirators in a plan that includes a ring hidden in Ice Cream and the proposal inside a Fortune Cookie. In the days leading to the big event, however, Tom and Lillian realize that they have more than an intimate friendship. Maybe Tom is asking the wrong girl to walk down the aisle.
With supporting characters that are uniformly irritating, from Jenny's dysfunctional parents to a flower shop owner who goes ballistic when Tom and Lillian stand frozen and watch his store robbed by an old woman, "Nowheresville" rarely delves beneath the surface to explore what motivates the leads beyond their obvious longing for true love.
NOWHERESVILLE
Trout Films
Writer-director: Bishop Trout
Producers: Alex Mindt, Randall Harvey, Kim Tyler
Director of photography: Christopher Bell
Editors: Timothy Demmons, David Culp
Color/stereo
Cast:
Tom: Henri Lubatti
Lillian: Kim Evey
Jenny: Kim Tyler
Mike: Mark Berry
Running time -- 98 minutes
No MPAA rating...
- 8/19/1998
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
NEW YORK -- Kim Eui-suk's ''The Wedding Story'' raises the question: If everyone tells you that chocolate Ice Cream tastes bad, will you eventually be convinced?
This analogy pertains to the institution of marriage, and the seemingly universal attitudes on the subject.
Even before the opening credits begin, we are introduced to Choi (Shim Hye-jin) and her boyfriend Kim (Choi Min-soo), two young lovers, each counseled by friends and family to avoid marriage at all costs. Naturally, they disregard the advice, and the credits roll as the couple walk down the aisle.
This uneven comedy, the highest-grossing film in Korea this year, makes its U.S. bow as part of the film retrospective Seoul Beauties: Legendary Actresses of Korean Cinema, which concludes today 12/17 at the Village East Cinema.
Funny in many respects, but equally annoying, the film allows the viewer to feel like a participant in this similarly polarized relationship. The two leads add credibility to this often told tale, and though we may find their coupling a bit tiresome, individually they are delightful.
Before marriage they were a fun-loving, sex-crazed pair, but once they tie the knot it takes very little time for their honeymoon to end. There's the old ''I can't stand that she squeezes the toothpaste tube from the middle'' bit, while she isn't overly enchanted at having to wash his crusty underwear.
Outside influence doesn't help matters either. Everyone feels the need to throw their two cents in. Even the shoeshine man at Kim's job offers him some cryptic advice daily, all of which in some way relates to shoes.
Kim and Choi start to argue over the pettiest of things, and though it might be somewhat effective, they start to get on the viewer's nerves as well.
In truth, they seem ill-suited for one another. While divorce seems imminent, from our perspective it also seems preferable.
Eventually they learn that ''looking for a perfect partner is an illusion, '' because no one is perfect. But en route, and even as the ride ends, theirs is by no means a storybook romance. Their problems, and the film, are admirably based in reality, in spite of the film's comic edge.
And though there is a bit too much repetitiveness, the performances are fresh enough to get you through it. ''The Wedding Story'' is like a lot of weddings. You probably don't want to go in the first place, but once there you have a pretty good time.
THE WEDDING STORY
(No production company listed)
Director Kim Eui-suk
Writer Park Hun-soo
Photographer Koo Joong- Moo
Editor Park Soon-duck
Music Song Byung-joon
Producer Park Song-in
Color
In Korean with subtitles
Cast:
Choi Shim Hye-jin
Kim Choi Min-soo
Running time -- 97 minutes
No MPAA rating
(c) The Hollywood Reporter...
This analogy pertains to the institution of marriage, and the seemingly universal attitudes on the subject.
Even before the opening credits begin, we are introduced to Choi (Shim Hye-jin) and her boyfriend Kim (Choi Min-soo), two young lovers, each counseled by friends and family to avoid marriage at all costs. Naturally, they disregard the advice, and the credits roll as the couple walk down the aisle.
This uneven comedy, the highest-grossing film in Korea this year, makes its U.S. bow as part of the film retrospective Seoul Beauties: Legendary Actresses of Korean Cinema, which concludes today 12/17 at the Village East Cinema.
Funny in many respects, but equally annoying, the film allows the viewer to feel like a participant in this similarly polarized relationship. The two leads add credibility to this often told tale, and though we may find their coupling a bit tiresome, individually they are delightful.
Before marriage they were a fun-loving, sex-crazed pair, but once they tie the knot it takes very little time for their honeymoon to end. There's the old ''I can't stand that she squeezes the toothpaste tube from the middle'' bit, while she isn't overly enchanted at having to wash his crusty underwear.
Outside influence doesn't help matters either. Everyone feels the need to throw their two cents in. Even the shoeshine man at Kim's job offers him some cryptic advice daily, all of which in some way relates to shoes.
Kim and Choi start to argue over the pettiest of things, and though it might be somewhat effective, they start to get on the viewer's nerves as well.
In truth, they seem ill-suited for one another. While divorce seems imminent, from our perspective it also seems preferable.
Eventually they learn that ''looking for a perfect partner is an illusion, '' because no one is perfect. But en route, and even as the ride ends, theirs is by no means a storybook romance. Their problems, and the film, are admirably based in reality, in spite of the film's comic edge.
And though there is a bit too much repetitiveness, the performances are fresh enough to get you through it. ''The Wedding Story'' is like a lot of weddings. You probably don't want to go in the first place, but once there you have a pretty good time.
THE WEDDING STORY
(No production company listed)
Director Kim Eui-suk
Writer Park Hun-soo
Photographer Koo Joong- Moo
Editor Park Soon-duck
Music Song Byung-joon
Producer Park Song-in
Color
In Korean with subtitles
Cast:
Choi Shim Hye-jin
Kim Choi Min-soo
Running time -- 97 minutes
No MPAA rating
(c) The Hollywood Reporter...
- 12/17/1992
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
Certain to be one of this summer's biggest hits, ''City Slickers'' provides plenty of laughs and several one-liners that will be repeatedly heard throughout the coming months. After some of the recent tame and lame films that have arrived on the scene, ''City Slickers'' is a welcome treat.
Crystal plays Mitch Robbins, a radio ad sales exec who, having just turned 39, realizes he is bored with his life. This is as good as it's going to get, and that frightens him. Yes, it's the old mid-life crisis thing.
To the rescue come best friends Ed Bruno Kirby) and Phil (Daniel Stern), who convince Mitch to go with them on a two-week cattle drive. Mitch is hesitant, but his tolerant wife (Patricia Wettig) insists he go find his smile.
And so the adventure begins. At the ranch they say howdy to their fellow guest drivers: two Ice Cream entrepreneur brothers, a father and son dentist team and the obligatory pretty dudette.
Everything looks like it might be fun and games until they meet their trail boss, Curly (Jack Palance), an alleged killer who looks like a ''saddle bag with eyes.'' He frightens them, particularly Mitch, into taking the cattle drive seriously.
Along the way most of what transpires is predictable and manipulative. The three friends discover a lot about each other and themselves; the drive is filled with unforseen obstacles; there are heroics galore; and Mitch falls in love . . . with a calf. But besides the formula stuff, there is an abundance of fresh humor, poignant dialogue and some rather credible performances.
Crystal has mastered that ''everyman'' look that makes him exceptionally easy to identify with. Along with his easygoing manner and precise comic timing, this helps to make his performance, for the most part, a natural one. At times, he can't help from mugging or forcing a funny line that feels out of place, but it's easily forgivable since we find ourselves laughing anyway.
Stern, after all that shouting in ''Coupe de Ville, '' quiets down effectively as the sheepish, I-have-no-life Phil. His non-life is also coming apart at the seams, and he portrays this with a nice mix of pathos and Jerry Lewis.
The most fully realized character and performance, however, belongs to Kirby. This fine actor has proven himself to be extremely adept at comedy while maintaining a serious underside. The genuine chemistry between these three actors loses nothing in its translation to the screen.
Last, but not least, is Palance. His caricature of the dozens of cowboys he's played over the years is played with finesse and tongue-in-cheek. He's a good foible for these city slickers.
The film has a few rough spots and spends too much time setting up premises, but it's a small price to pay for the enjoyment it provides. Mitch may or may not find his smile, but you won't be able to lose yours. ''City Slickers'' is one cattle drive you won't want to miss.
CITY SLICKERS
Columbia Pictures
Director Ron Underwood
Writers Lowell Ganz, Babaloo Mandel
Director of photography Dean Semler, A.C.S.
Editor O. Nicholas Brown
Producer Irby Smith
Executive producer Billy Crystal
Color
Cast:
Mitch Robbins Billy Crystal
Ed Furillo Bruno Kirby
Phil Berquist Daniel Stern
Curly Jack Palance
Barbara RobbinsPatricia Wettig
Bonnie Helen Slater
Running time -- 110 minutes
MPAA Rating: PG-13
(c) The Hollywood Reporter...
Crystal plays Mitch Robbins, a radio ad sales exec who, having just turned 39, realizes he is bored with his life. This is as good as it's going to get, and that frightens him. Yes, it's the old mid-life crisis thing.
To the rescue come best friends Ed Bruno Kirby) and Phil (Daniel Stern), who convince Mitch to go with them on a two-week cattle drive. Mitch is hesitant, but his tolerant wife (Patricia Wettig) insists he go find his smile.
And so the adventure begins. At the ranch they say howdy to their fellow guest drivers: two Ice Cream entrepreneur brothers, a father and son dentist team and the obligatory pretty dudette.
Everything looks like it might be fun and games until they meet their trail boss, Curly (Jack Palance), an alleged killer who looks like a ''saddle bag with eyes.'' He frightens them, particularly Mitch, into taking the cattle drive seriously.
Along the way most of what transpires is predictable and manipulative. The three friends discover a lot about each other and themselves; the drive is filled with unforseen obstacles; there are heroics galore; and Mitch falls in love . . . with a calf. But besides the formula stuff, there is an abundance of fresh humor, poignant dialogue and some rather credible performances.
Crystal has mastered that ''everyman'' look that makes him exceptionally easy to identify with. Along with his easygoing manner and precise comic timing, this helps to make his performance, for the most part, a natural one. At times, he can't help from mugging or forcing a funny line that feels out of place, but it's easily forgivable since we find ourselves laughing anyway.
Stern, after all that shouting in ''Coupe de Ville, '' quiets down effectively as the sheepish, I-have-no-life Phil. His non-life is also coming apart at the seams, and he portrays this with a nice mix of pathos and Jerry Lewis.
The most fully realized character and performance, however, belongs to Kirby. This fine actor has proven himself to be extremely adept at comedy while maintaining a serious underside. The genuine chemistry between these three actors loses nothing in its translation to the screen.
Last, but not least, is Palance. His caricature of the dozens of cowboys he's played over the years is played with finesse and tongue-in-cheek. He's a good foible for these city slickers.
The film has a few rough spots and spends too much time setting up premises, but it's a small price to pay for the enjoyment it provides. Mitch may or may not find his smile, but you won't be able to lose yours. ''City Slickers'' is one cattle drive you won't want to miss.
CITY SLICKERS
Columbia Pictures
Director Ron Underwood
Writers Lowell Ganz, Babaloo Mandel
Director of photography Dean Semler, A.C.S.
Editor O. Nicholas Brown
Producer Irby Smith
Executive producer Billy Crystal
Color
Cast:
Mitch Robbins Billy Crystal
Ed Furillo Bruno Kirby
Phil Berquist Daniel Stern
Curly Jack Palance
Barbara RobbinsPatricia Wettig
Bonnie Helen Slater
Running time -- 110 minutes
MPAA Rating: PG-13
(c) The Hollywood Reporter...
- 5/30/1991
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
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