Craiger’s Cinema Corner

*  out of  ****

WAR is not only a bad film, but also a stunningly incompetent one at that.  It manages to display its utter ineptitude by failing to utilize stars Jet Li and Jason Statham to any satisfying degree, nor does it play up to their strengths as martial arts action stars.  Not only that, but the film has a late breaking plot twist of such shameful, irretrievably inanity that a scene having one of the characters waking up in a cold sweat and stating, “It was all just a horrible dream” would have more fulfilling. 

WAR is a decidedly wasteful and dull movie-going experience, made all the more frustrating because it certainly thinks its smarter than its viewers, when in actuality the audience can spot potential plot developments from a proverbial mile away.  Rarely have action films invited such incredulous scorn.

But wait!  I know what you’re going to say: This film stars Jason Statham, my self anointed king of an action film genre that I have dubbed (copyright pending) Cinema of Incredulity.  His past films, like the two TRANSPORTER films and – to an even larger degree – last year’s howlingly entertaining CRANK, epitomize this genre.  You know, the kind of action films that have a laughable and commendable level of self-awareness about just how improbably outlandish and preposterous they are with their stunts and set pieces.  I sort of have a peculiar appreciation and fondness for the way Statham’s last few films willingly jumped over endless chasms of impossible reason and common sense with their action scenes.  You kind of laugh at and with these moments, which, as a result, is why I kind of derived so much enjoyment out of watching them.  You not only checked your brain at the door, but also had a valet take it and secure it for safe keeping for you until you left the theatre. 

WAR could have been in the same proud tradition of this genre, but it is such an excessive squandering of possibilities and expectations.  Instead of being infectiously silly and over-the-top with its spectacle, it becomes a ponderous, oftentimes incomprehensible, and tensionless thriller that tries way, way too hard to be taken seriously.  This is compounded by the notion that Statham and Li never really play characters that we invest in and like. 

Yes, they are in prime, stoic, and stone-cold ass-kick mode throughout most of the film, but there is no joyous life and forward momentum to the story that they are involved in.  I grew dizzy just thinking about how WAR could have been a throwback, 1980’s buddy cop action flick with Statham and Li having fun with their roles.  Instead, we get an insipid and trudgingly dull YOJIMBO rip-off with lame brained plot developments and too many unsympathetic and minimally developed characters.  The final icing on the cake would be the laughably pitiful dialogue and performances, the latter being keening demonstrated by Li, who proves his genuine lack of range in English speaking films.  Perhaps WAR’s biggest sin is that when Li and Statham do go mano-a-mano, it’s such an incomprehensible letdown that you kind of want to go to the ticket booth and demand a refund.

Well, is WAR tense and taut action thriller (as advertised) that pits Statham versus Li in a battle of wits and martial arts supremacy?  Not really.  It sacrifices infectiously bombastic action for story (big mistake) and the film’s exposition is done at such a snail’s pace that you check your watch feverously when you should be getting involved with the proceedings.  The setting is San Francisco and there is a war brewing with the Yakuzi and the Triad.  The Japanese bloc is lead by Shiro (Ryo Ishibashi) and his daughter, Kira (Devon Aoki).  The Chinese faction is helmed by Chang (John Lone).  In pure YOJIMBO mode is a deadly assassin named Rogue (Li, not to be confused with the X-Men heroine) who mysteriously pits both sides against each other.  Shiro thinks that he is in strict cahoots with the killer, whereas Chang also thinks he has the same relationship.   What’s an evil organization to do?

Meanwhile, a US FBI agent named Jack Crawford (Statham) has his own stakes in catching Rogue.  You see, he could care less if both the Yakuzi and the Triad wipe themselves off of the face of the earth; he simply wants to get Rogue for personal reasons.  In the film’s opening segment (horribly edited and murky in its construction), Crawford saw his partner brutally killed.  Ever since, Crawford has made finding Rogue is top priority.  I mean, Rogue killed his partner, his wife, and child right while they were preparing a family BBQ.  That son of a….it’s one thing when your partner is wasted, but when he is eradicated while prepping T-bones on a summer day, then it’s personal.

Yet, Crawford begins to see that the seemingly unstoppable Rogue is actually pitting both crime organizations against one another.  One of my biggest misgivings about the film is that instead of making it a personal revenge and cat n’ mouse action thriller pitting Rogue and Crawford against each other, it squanders most of its time on the rival crime gangs, neither of which are established as being anything intriguing or compelling.  Notwithstanding that, but WAR does a painfully insipid job of trying to explore the motivations behind Rogue’s actions.  Why, after all, would Rogue become so disingenuous and disloyal to both crime organizations and why would he resort to such complex schemes to exact revenge against both? 

Your guess is as good as mine.

This complaint also bares some weight when one considers that the character of Rogue has to be one of the most banal and disinteresting killers in recent movie history.  As played by the  dramatically stunted Li, there is not one ounce of three-dimensionality to him.  He’s not a character, but a soulless and colorless plot device that never commands our interest.  Action films, it has been said, are only as good as their villains, and Rogue is such an unmitigated bore as a character that you often have to slap yourself upside the head and remind yourself that he’s important.  How can you have a rooting interest in the heroes when your villain is a bland and characterless drone?

Perhaps this has something to do with Jet Li, an action star that I admire for his physicality, but have had a difficult time appreciating on a level of acting skill.  I certainly have truly liked many of his native language films (last year’s FEARLESS showed a mature and powerful performance by Li, both in terms of drama and action), but I have yet to see an American film where he was not reduced to a one-note, emotionless, monosyllabic cardboard cutout.  I am not sure if this has to do with his lack of command of the English language or his actual thespian skills,  but Li has shown himself to be so categorically awful in his performances in US films.  Yes, other martial arts stars, like Jackie Chan, speak in broken English, but at least Chan brings charisma, whimsicality, and charm to his performances.  There is none of that with Li, who is reduced to a walking robot in WAR; his performance is done with minimal effort and fuss, just enough for him to be audible to audience members.  Sure, when he’s in fight scenes, Li is a commanding screen presence, but beyond that he’s as stiff and wooden as a surf board.

I could go on and on about the other areas where this film fails.  The action, although energetic at times, is sloppy and spastic, and director Philip G. Atwell (a music video vet) never seems to create any sense of rhythm and coherence.  The best way to shoot these scenes is to use a less-is-more approach and let the physicality of the actors sell the action, not the MTV video inspired editing and camera work.  Statham, who is a fiery and cagey action star or remarkable dexterity, is more or less subdued and has very little opportunities to display his athletic skills (although compared to Li, he’s Laurence freakin’ Oliver in the acting arena).  Again, these two action stars are done a terrible disservice of never really playing off of one another.  Their climatic fight scene is so hastily and quickly concluded that you shake your hands in the air and scream, “And?”

Of course, there is the film’s would-be plot twist, which I will not reveal to you here, but I will say that it unalterably betrays everything that occurs before it, not to mention that it makes you question a lot of the motives of one of the main characters.  A much more simpler and satisfying conclusion would have been to simply make the third act a stirring and action packed battle between Rogue and Crawford without any other narrative baggage.  When we learn of Rogue’s true heritage, it never really feels plausible.  Certainly, smart viewers could also see it coming if one thought hard about the film’s underlining story, but the terms “thinking hard” should not be used in the same sentence when describing WAR.

I ever so desperately wanted WAR to be a blissful symphony of wall-to-wall carnage and maddening, comic book gravity defying violence that made other Statham action films such a giddy pleasure.  Instead of being entertaining and enjoyably incredulous with its action spectacle, WAR is just incredulously horrible.  By failing to fully utilize the combined martial arts talents of Statham and Li, and by involving them in a long-winded and torturously dreary and tired storyline of rival crime gangs, WAR is disappointingly boring and lethargic.  If you decide to focus on story and characters, then make those elements intriguing.  If you decide to go for broke and have a considerable amount of gratuitous martial arts mayhem, then don’t hold back.  Unfortunately, WAR is both a regrettable failure from both a narrative and action level and will surely inspire monumental dissatisfaction for even hard-core action fans. 

The film, in the simplest terms, is like Michael Mann’s HEAT…for dummies.

www.craigerscinemacorner.com

***  out of  ****

Has there been a classic science fiction novel that has seen more cinematic permutations than Jack Finney’s THE BODY SNATCHERS? 

I doubt it.  The work first saw the light of day in 1956 as INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS, directed by Don Siegel, and was recently selected for preservation in the United States’ National Film Registry.  Then came a remake in 1978, written and directed by Phillip Kauffman, and it marked one of the first instances were both filmgoers and critics alike admired the remake almost as mush as its predecessor.  Criminally forgotten by most filmgoers is Abel Ferrera’s 1993 version, BODY SNATCHERS, which arguably was as effective, if not more, than the two previous versions.

Now comes remake number four in the form of THE INVASION, which severely challenges my own preconceived notions about how to critique remakes.  For me, a remake is only a worthwhile endeavor if (a) it remains faithful – at least in tone – to the original that inspired it and (b) it finds a fresh and revitalizing way to tell the original story for contemporary consumption.  On those two levels, I think that THE INVASION works.  It retains the essence of Finney’s original premise – that of alien life forms that come earth, infect humans, and unalterably changes them for the worse.  It also wisely recounts what made the previous three films so efficient: it’s a horror story that works less on the visceral impact of its visuals and special effects, but more on a level of creating an undeniably creepy and haunting mood to the proceedings.

Of course, all of the BODY SNATCHERS films were also compelling because they did what all great sci-fi works should do: they were intriguing socio-political parables of their respective times.  For Siegel’s 1956 original (as was the case with Finney’s book), film scholars rightfully assert that the film’s themes were an allegory for the loss of personal autonomy in the former USSR and a shameful indictment of McCarthyism paranoia that swept through America.  Kauffman’s remake also dealt with paranoia, albeit on different levels.  His film has been said to evoke the general malaise that America felt during the Vietnam/Watergate era of their history, reflecting the persuasive mistrust that swept through the cultural mindset.  Ferrera’s 1993 film could be aptly described as a scary mirror into the social calamities that were striking fear into the hearts of people around the world, like the AIDS epidemic.

Now comes the 2007 film version, which was directed by the more-than-competent Oliver Hirschbiegel, who made 2004’s DOWNFALL, a strong-headed and bold masterpiece about the final hours of Adolf Hitler.  Like the previous versions of the story, Hirschbiegel’s THE INVASION also deals with paranoia, but on a much more discrete level.  His film centers on the social, isolationist doctrine that has paralyzed many nations in the wake of 9/11.  It comments on the systemic mistrust of everything foreign that embeds our modern culture.  There are also some subtle philosophical points that it makes about the devastating impact that the recent flu epidemics have had, not to mention some commentary about the war in Iraq and our distrust of the current Bush administration.  As one of the alien infected humans explains to the film’s heroine at one point, would there be a war in Iraq if everyone was infected and living in cohabitation with one another? 

Hmmm…good point.

THE INVASION marginally succeeds as a cerebral and provocative scarefest that does an effective job of being taut and creepy, the latter two elements being absolutely necessary to adapting Finney’s novel.  By direct comparisons to the previous three remakes, THE INVASION is easily weakest of the lot, but if one overlooks relative comparisons to the other adaptations and views it as a stand-alone work, then Hirschbiegel has done a good job of crafting a fairly suspenseful, involving, and haunting thriller that creates a surprisingly level of forward momentum despite one’s overt familiarity with the underlining material.  It also succeeds on a performance level, and Nicole Kidman has the utterly thankless job of playing a very convincing victim amidst all of the chaos that ensues around her.  A lesser actress would have sank the story.  If anything, Kidman’s commanding performance brings a level of believability to the film.

The new film offers up a neat - if not bold - twist to how the aliens land on earth.  It appears that the space shuttle, while crash landing to earth, contained many alien spores than attached themselves to the ship.  As the ship’s remains blasted their way from Washington to Dallas, people that came in contact with pieces of the shuttle debris become immediately infected.  The fact that the film uses a real-life catastrophe, like the recent space shuttle disaster, may initially appear to be in poor taste, but it’s never dwelled on, nor exploited to nasty effect.

Tucker (Jermey Northam) works for the government in disease control and while inspecting part of the shuttle crash site, he becomes infected.  It seems that after the spores find a place in you, they really go to work on your system while you sleep.  As Tucker sleeps the night away, his visage metamorphoses into some sort of humanoid algae figure right out of an X-Men film.  When he awakens, he physically returns to normal, but something is definitely not normal about his personality.  He walks and talks like one of those soft spoken agents from THE MATRIX films.  In short, the aliens have remade humans to be oddly complacent, that is until they attempt to infect other humans to convert them.  The manner with which they do this is very, very icky: it’s all done through bodily fluids.  One gross moment shows alien infected waiters vomiting into coffee pots and then later serving the resulting liquid. 

I have now ripped up my frequent coffee card for Starbucks.

Dr. Carol Bennet (Nicole Kidman) is Tucker’s estranged wife that lives with her son, Oliver (Jackson Bond).  One day she discovers that one of her patient’s husband is displaying atypical behaviour, like killing the family dog without a care in the world.  Carol sees this as fishy too.  She has her own concerns, seeing as young Oliver is set for a trip to spend time with dear, old dad.  She’s more than a bit frustrated with the prospect of her son seeing her former husband, but her semi-platonic “best friend”, Ben (Daniel Craig, quite solid despite his limited supporting role) tells her not to worry too much.  Unfortunately, after Oliver hooks up with the infected dad, he text messages his mother by saying that his father is acting very…weird.

Meanwhile, the nation has quickly grown infected by the space disease (the government curiously masks it as yet another dangerous form of the flu pandemic).  Carol herself manages to find a nasty little remnant of the alien infected skin off of a cute little neighbourhood boy and takes it to her researcher friend, Dr. Galeano (Jeffrey Wright).  Of course, Galeano is one of those obligatorical movie doctors that is able to uncover, within no time, that the sample is actual alien in nature and is able to infer vast amount of information as to how the alien spores work on the human body (this is the least plausible part of the film).  Carol takes his words to heart, especially when she becomes infected after attempting to rescue her son from her infected husband.  After being vomited on in the face (yuck) by her former soul mate, she narrowly escapes him and goes on a desperate search for Oliver, who holds a vital – if a bit too convenient - key to the survival of mankind.  Galeano and a company of uninfected have set up a vast military disease control compound outside of city limits, so it becomes a desperate race against time for Carol to find her son and escape to the facility…all before she falls asleep and turns into one of those nasty pod people.

What I found most interesting about THE INVASION is how the main lead is a woman.  There could have been an incredible temptation to have Daniel Craig play the lead, but there is a nifty bit of gender reversal in the film; he essentially plays the love interest which is usually reserved for female lead.  I think that this creates an even heightened sense of vulnerability with the main character, especially considering the indescribable bond that a mother has with her child, not to mention the innate fear of her baby being turned into a docile alien.  Kidman’s performance is so crucial to this, and she plays Carol with the right level of dialled-in, emotional confusion that later rightfully erupts into hysteria.  Hirschbiegel compliments the performance by using a lot of odd camera angles, embellishing the textural claustrophobia of the environment of the film.  THE INVASION is thoroughly atmospheric as a result.

The film has some loopholes.  It concludes not with an ending but more of an abrupt stoppage, which leaves viewers asking for more.  Also, there are some perfunctory plot elements, like the fact that you know – you just know – that the only man Carol can trust in the world, Ben, will eventually be infected and try to infect her.  Then there is the notable and highly publicized re-shoot that the film underwent as a result of the Warner Brothers brass disliking of most of Hirschbiegel footage.  They hired the Wachowski Brothers to re-write new footage and a new ending and got V FOR VENDETTA director James McTeigue to direct the footage with an extra budget of $10 million.  Originally supposed to be released in early 2006, the re-shoots pushed the film’s release to this year.  How much of Hirschbiegel’s footage remains in this version is a regrettable mystery, but the odd inclusion of the stylistically opposite Wachowskis and McTeigue is not the red herring of the film that many critics have pained to point out.  Their inclusions are obvious (especially in the action scenes), but they more or less compliment what Hirschbiegel contributed and are not the overt distraction that I feared they would be.

THE INVASION is an odd cinematic creature: a forth in the line of movie remakes that cannibalises some of the elements of the previous versions and, in turn, was directed by not one, but a  series of filmmakers, one of whom never received official credit.  Initial impulses would be the label THE INVASION, as a result of its divergent creative minds and its regurgitated story, as a misguided appropriation of a classic sci-fi novel and series of films.  Yet, cohesiveness is not what the film lacks, as it generates a genuine level of interest in its story and is able to forge a rooting interest in its main heroine.  As a scary sci-fi parable, it’s not in the same league as the 1956 original, nor its 1979 remake, nor its 1993 remake, but THE INVASION still manages some allegorical commentary that reflects our current climate of geo-political uncertainty and confusion.  The direction is also fairly tight and tense, and Kidman gives, as described, a thanklessly believable performance.  Surely, THE INVASION seems like another unnecessary and redundant remake that has some decided faults.  Yet, as a whole, it holds together fairly well and creates a legitimate sensation of dread, which is what a good, passably entertaining thriller should do.

www.craigerscinemacorner.com

***1/2  out of  **** 

It has been said that SUPERBAD is based on a screenplay that Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg began writing when they were 13-years-old.  Exactly how much of their script is entirely true-to-life is questionable, but what is not disputable is that the film is an unapologetic raunch-filled, potty mouth laced, adolescent hormone induced, R-rated laugh riot.

SUPERBAD is not only foul mouthed; it’s remarkably foul mouthed, almost as if it was competing in some sort of lewd spectator sport.  According to a September 2007 Maxim Magazine article (which, to my astonishment, has more than just nice pictures), everyone’s favourite four-letter curse word is uttered 186 times during the film’s 114 minutes.  SUPERBAD is not a film for kids; its very, very appropriately rated R for (let me stretch my knuckles and fingers before I type this): “Pervasive crude and sexual content, strong language, drinking, some drug use and a fantasy/comic violent image, all involving teens.” 

And for that…I say…thank-you.

The film is in the great tradition of other adult rated odysseys of scatological debauchery and excess (like NATIONAL LAMPOON’S ANIMAL HOUSE and DAZED IN CONFUSED).  However, as was the case with the latter film mentioned, it also does what all great teen sex comedies do:  It makes us care about its characters, whom are oftentimes misguided and woefully naïve teen losers on the fringes of their social gene pool.  The trio of teens in SUPERBAD – played in unison by three of the truly funniest performances of the year by Jonah Hill, Michael Cera, and an wonderful new find, Christopher Mintz-Plasse – speak in a shocking barrage of sickening usages of the most naughty of words, often combined with X-rated descriptions of the male and female sex organs and their cohabitation together.  Yet, there is an undeniable sweetness and innate likeability to these adolescent degenerates.  Sure, they deserve to have their collective mouths washed out with soap for all of eternity, but, deep down, they really are decent chaps that genuinely care about friendship.

Oh…and getting laid and drunk.

Conservative minds that are too quick to label SUPERBAD as ill tempered and shamefully odious because of its acid-tongued dialogue kind of overlook the meaning behind the content.   Yes, these young boys speak like longshoremen, but the characters’ colorful and shockingly verbose use of terms and words oftentimes reflects the gullibility and ignorance of their youth.  The film is clever in its pornographic conversations; actually, it’s downright lyrical and intelligent with its dialogue at times (imagine Mamet writing teen conversations and you have the idea) to the point where you don’t really chastise it, but kind of sickly admire it for its timing and rhythm.  One key truism of male life is that men, for the most part, don’t understand what women think or what they want.  Teen boys, to a larger degree, really don’t know what the hell women are about.  The notion that the kids in SUPERBAD refer to woman as things to be ogled at and to fulfill their twisted masturbatory fantasies seems inevitably normal to me.  After all, when your a young man graduating from high school, are high on life, have boundless energy, and desperately do not wish to go to college a mournful, sexual novice (gasp!), then how else would you see women?

SUPERBAD understands this perfectly.  It wisely understands the complete ignorance that its hapless saps have towards girls, but it also rightfully displays how deep yearning and insatiable lust can – in the long run- change who you are and how you view people.  The film accurately puts the sexually-angst-ridden male ego on display and shows its teens wanting sex so badly that -  when they actually are faced with approaching a girl and talking to them - they become hopeless amateurs.  These guys are so indescribably horny that their primeval impulses override their brains.  One kid wants sex, but is so overcome with awkwardness and shyness when approaching the girl of his dreams that he can’t even notice – when a blind man could see it – that the girl is smitten with him.

I think that this is the key to why SUPERBAD is such a success.  All great teen sex comedies had believable youth figures that were not just redundant and poorly drawn caricatures imported in to the screenplay for cheap, puerile laughs.  Like the best recent comedies, like THE 40-YEAR-OLD VIRGIN and KNOCKED UP (both directed by SUPERBAD’S producer, Judd Apatow, and the latter co-written by Seth Rogen), this film understands that the best way to counterbalance debauchery and rambunctiously crude material is with a nice undercurrent of charm and sincerity with its characters.  Sure, the kids in SUPERBAD act like they want to get hammered and laid as much as possible, but deep down they are flawed, vulnerable, and sensitive creatures that come to love and respect their interdependency with one another.  Scoring with chicks comes and goes, but true friendship is hard to come by.

Like DAZED AND CONFUSED and AMERICAN GRAFFITI – two of the best films about teens of their time – SUPERBAD follows the exploits of sex-starved teens over the course of one wild night.  The plot seems a bit routine and straightforward, but that should not be seen as a hindrance; the film works more of the levels of character interplay and chemistry.  We are quickly introduced to three high school misfits, the kind of outsiders that jocks seem to take great pain to step all over (in one cruel scene, a jock invites one of them out to his party by spitting right on him).  There’s Evan (perfectly channeling a type of Ben Stiller-esque social awkwardness and tepidness by the very funny Michael Cera), Seth (Jonah Hill, who kind of reminds me of a teen Chris Penn), and Fogell (played to screechy and shrill voiced greatness by Christopher Mintz-Plasse, a real life high school teen before he got this part at an open casting call).  They all are foils to one another: Evan is shy and mild-mannered around girls; Seth is an overweight slob and incessant motor mouth that thinks that the only way a boy of his stature will score with a girl is to get her drunk; and Fogell is a nerd of Level 10, Napoleon Dynamite geekiness that thinks he’s “with-it” when he is actually a major doofus.

Actually, Fogell is so blind with how socially inept and inexperienced he is that when he even tries to get a fake I.D., it’s an such an atrocious bit of fakery that no one with a head of their shoulders would take it for real.  The reveal of the ID is one of the film’s most hilarious moments.  Not only is it from the state of Hawaii, but it also lists his year of birth at 1981, making him 25 (he looks like he’s 15).  The icing on the cake is his name, or lack of a last one.  In what is sure to become a classic, iconic pop culture reference, his fake name is “McLovin”…period.  When looking at the grossly counterfeit card, Evan humorously deadpans, “The guys either going think ‘here’s another guy with a fake ID’, or ‘here’s McLovin, 25 year old Hawaiian organ donor’.”  Being absolutely desperate, Evan and Seth place their night in the hands of McLovin, seeing as they promised two cute girls that they would have no problem buying their favourite alcoholic drinks for a party.  Seth has his eyes set for Jules (Emma Stone) and Evan is after Becca (Martha MacIsaac) and they think that they key to their hearts is a bottle of GoldSlick.

Amazingly, Fogell’s I.D. fools the off-sale clerk, and just when he’s about to get the goods, he is punched to the ground by an armed robber.  The cops show up, and Evan and Seth mistakenly think that their buddy has been busted and flee.   The officers that come to the scene are Slater (SNL’s Bill Hader) and Michaels (co-writer himself, Seth Rogen).  Of course, Fogell is scared you-know-what-less by the boys in blue.  Yet, he’s surprised to find that these cops are probably the most lenient and non-law-abiding ones ever to appear in a mainstream film.  Not only do they eventually take Fogell to cruise with them on the beat, but they also involve him in an arrest at a bar, a night of binge drinking while on duty, the hitting of a pedestrian while intoxicated in the police car, and the eventual destruction of said car with a Molotov cocktail.  The funny angle with Fogell and the two cops is that they don’t make life difficult for the legally underage teen; when they meet him they take a liking to him.  They see in him what they were like when they were his age: a teen that naturally distrusts and hates cops.  As a result, their night is all about them showing Fogell that – gee whiz – cops like to party too.

Evan and Seth do end up at the party with the two girls, but only after a series of horrible misadventures which involves Evan being hit not once, but twice with a car, secretly stashing stolen beer in laundry detergent bottles, and having a girl at another party leave a particular bodily fluid on his pants while dancing that occurs at her “time” of the month.  I won’t spoil any more of the film and what happens at the climatic party, but let’s just say that – when all of their shenanigans are over and done with – the boys learn some truths about who they are and what being true friends is all about.  They also gain the wisdom that a girl that digs you will not have to be bribed with a shooter.

SUPERBAD achieves high comedic plateaus when dealing with its young men at crucibles in their lives.  Surely, the plot could have been fodder for yet another dumb and juvenile teen comedy.  Yet, the film is not as lewd as other past comedies (there’s ample bad language, but the gross out gags are more subtle, and nudity is all but vacant, outside of a montage of riotously funny renderings of the male appendage done by Evan as a young boy).  No, the real heart of the film is that it has one.  The reason SUPERBAD resonates so strongly is because you can understand and relate to these misfits and their issues.  When Seth and Evan have a heated argument about their future, you sense real pain and resentment in their words.  In an age where teens are cardboard cutouts and two dimensional, SUPERBAD creates a real verisimilitude in its troubled youth.  It is also greatly aided by the fact that its three main teens actually look like teens.  This is one of the first films in a long while that had the intelligence and foresight to not cast actors in their late 20’s to play high school graduates.  That choice would have wrecked the film’s effect.  Since we buy into the actors in the film, we more intently buy into them as characters.

If the film has a few faults then it would be in its length (it runs about 10-15 minutes longer for its own good) and for the cop characters (however funny Hader and Rogen are as the bumbling, beer-drinking, and chain smoking cops with no level of adult authority, they seem a bit out of touch with the tone of the rest of the film around them).  They certainly would occupy a great screwball farce, but here they seem like an odd fit to the reality-based atmosphere the other characters occupy.  Nevertheless, SUPERBAD is a great achievement in the teen sex comedy genre, one that is oh-so-hard to pull off successfully.  Here’s a film that, upon a cursory look at it, is about young horny boys that want to get plastered, nail women, and go to college as experienced sex machines.  Yet, underneath that all is a subtle depiction of the misery and nagging uncertainty that the teens have with themselves and the future.  Like THE 40-YEAR-OLD VIRGIN and KNOCKED UP, SUPERBAD is a super-lewd and crude endurance test of raunch and sleaze, but it also has something genuine and earnest to say about its characters and their predicament.  It simply is one of the best comedies of the summer.

And for that…I McLoved it.

www.craigerscinemacorner.com

***  out of  ****

Danny Boyle’s SUNSHINE is like ARMAGEDDON for viewers with actual brains in their heads.  A cursory look at the two films will net some clear-cut similarities:  A mission deep into space involving a nuclear payload; a rag-tag group of astronauts that don’t always see eye to eye on the mission; a terrible cosmic event that spells doom for all of mankind back on earth, and so forth. 

Yet, what chiefly separates the two films is their tone and approach.  SUNSHINE works as an effective homage to the types of intellectually stimulating sci-fi that are compelling less by the action and visual effects that it throws at us and more by its character dynamics, themes, and overall mood they generate.  For a film about a futuristic mission that involves taking a nuke the size of Manhattan Island to the sun in hopes of re-igniting it to save the earth, SUNSHINE has very little action, per se, in it.  Rather, its key assets are the way it creates an ever-escalating sense of claustrophobia and dread throughout its running time, not to mention commenting on the gigantic implications of the mission involved.  From a premise perspective, SUNSHINE is intriguing and unique.  Whereas other sci-fi thrillers about deep space usually involve planets and aliens, SUNSHINE is predominantly about “fixing” the sun, a sort of silent, omnipotent antagonist.  Without it, the entire planet would face an eternity of Saskatchewan winters.  That’s really scary.

Watching the film, you keenly sense where Boyle is going with the material.  Being one of the more fearless and ambitious directors working today (his resume demonstrates that he is not intimidated by approaching different genres, as 28 DAYS LATER, MILLIONS, and TRAINSPOTTING demonstrate), Boyle seems inspired by a combination of elements from other great sci-fi films.  The metaphysical themes are right out of 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY, as are some of the film’s hauntingly beautiful images (a scene involving a pod bay door and crew members attempting to re-board a ship without space suits is also familiar).  There are also clear cut echoes to other ethereal films, like Andrei Tarkovsky’s SOLARIS, and the level of tightly confined, muggy, and claustrophobic space quarters seem inspired by Wolfgang Peterson’s DAS BOOT.  The final act of the film borrows heavily from ALIEN in many respects and, ironically, from Boyles own 28 DAYS LATER. 

The later influences are what works the least successfully in SUNSHINE.  During the film’s last act, there is a sharp – well, razor sharp – change in pace and tone, almost too much if one considers everything that the film builds to.  There is no denying that Boyle is gifted at crafting teeth-clenching levels of suspense and horror, and the final moments of SUNSHINE are superbly created and are genuinely frightening.  Yet, they kind of betray what a great film that it was leading into the last 30 minutes.  It has been said that Boyle and writer Alex Garland (who both collaborated with one another for 28 DAYS LATER and THE BEACH) went through 35 drafts before filming SUNSHINE.  It’s too bad that they did not realize during those 35 chances that the story’s plot twist and conclusion is odd and unsatisfying.

No matter.  Boyle does such an assured job here of balancing the film’s spiritual and inter-planetary issues alongside generating good performances from his lead actors.  That is not to say that he does not do an exemplary job with the film’s visuals.  Boyle correctly captures the vastness of space and counterbalances that with the confined environment that his characters live in on the space ship.  Many other similar films cut back and forth from the crew and their mission in space to needless sub-plots of worried loved ones back on earth.  Boyle resists the temptation to ever show scenes on earth, with the exception of one final moment.  Constantly making transitions from the bleakness of space and the sheer magnitude of the sun’s visage to scenes of normalcy on earth would have ruined the film’s aesthetic impact.  Like Ridley Scott’s ALIEN, he keeps his attention on space and the crew, which only amplifies the tension and intrigue.  By doing so, Boyle can also hone his focus on the relationships of the characters and how they, in turn, are at the complete mercy of their seemingly suicidal mission.

The film takes place in 2057 where we learn – with the aid of the ever-resourceful voice over - that the Sun is dying.  Wait a tick!  I was always lead to believe in all of my high school science classes that it would take a lot longer than 50 years for the Sun to perish.  Like…try billions of years (trust me; I looked it up just to be sure).  However, the film is not so much about the Sun dying as it is about it having a nasty infection that needs curing.  Logging on to various websites confirms this.  According to the film’s scientific advisory, the Sun in SUNSHINE’s future is infected with a “Q-ball”, or a “supersymmetric nucleus”, presumably left over from the big bang, which has disrupted its normal matter.  Now, in order to blast the Q-ball back to its constituent parts and returning the Sun back to normal, you would need a bomb…say…the mass of the moon.  Since a ship with a payload the mass of the moon would be inane, the filmmakers have decided on one the size of Manhattan.  Okay, so they took dramatic liberties…but it works for me.

The ship itself – wonderfully realized with state-of-the-art visual effects – is kind of like 2001’s Discovery ship stuck on a gigantic heat shield.  Imagine a pin (the ship) placed head first on the center of a Frisbee (the heat shield) and you kind of get the idea as to size and scale.  Of course, tension runs high for the ship’s (the Icarus II) crew, comprised of Captain Kaneda (Hiroyuki Sanada), his first officer is Harvey (Troy Garity), Capa (Cillian Murphy), Cassie (Rose Byrne), Corazon (Michelle Yeoh), Mace (Chris Evans), Searle (Cliff Curtis), and Trey (Benedict Wong).  Arguably, it is Capa that seems like the one most needed member on board, as it is he that manages the ship’s massive payload that will be used to detonate on the Sun to assist with its re-birth.  Of course, this drives a few of the other members crazy.  After all, who can truly be labeled as the most crucial on what is easily seen as a mission with a passable chance of never returning home.

That notion gnaws away at these space voyagers.  They all know, deep down, that they are eight people collectively that could save the earth.  Not only that, but there is also that nagging nightmare of the fate of the original Icarus (remember, they are on ship number II), which failed on their mission seven years earlier.  To make their situation seem even direr, all of the fissile material on earth was mined for the second mission, which means that if they fail, then the world is screwed royal.  Tensions particularly run high when, after 16 months in space, the ship passes a zone where no more communication with earth is possible.  The crew leaves their final messages – and potential good-byes – to their loved ones back home.  Capa’s message to his family is especially cryptic and poignant: “So, if you wake up one morning and it’s a particularly beautiful day, you’ll know we made it.”

While the ship passes around the dark side of Mercury, something startling happens: they hear an actual distress call from the original Icarus.  This then places the crew of ship II into a real dilemma.  Should they continue on with the mission and forget about the Icarus I crew to detonate the bomb on the Sun or should they go to the stranded vessel and look for survivors?  Clear-headed pragmatism would dictate that checking for anyone alive on a ship that has not been heard of for seven years would be stupid, and most of the crew acknowledges it.  Unfortunately for Capa, the ships Captain asks him to make to choice as to whether they rendezvous with the doomed vessel, seeing as that ship may have another usable payload.  Upon engaging in a highly stressful bit of risk assessment, Capa begrudgingly decides that “two last hopes are better than one,” and realizes that salvaging another payload would be a good idea.

The crew then docks with the apparently lifeless Icarus I, and from the point of proceeding on board to the film’s final act, SUNSHINE goes in some decidedly peculiar and unproductive directions.  I will try my best not to spoil anything that happens, but let’s just say that the Icarus II crew “discovers” something and that something proceeds to make it aboard their ship and starts to kill the crew members one at a time, not to mention that it apparently has a deep desire to sabotage the entire mission.  Mixed in with this ALIEN-esque action third act is some very confusing pontificating about the nature of God and man, which never really seems to be deciphered clearly by the screenplay or by Boyle’s direction.  Make no mistake about it, Boyle is an undisputed master at making SUNSHINE’S final moments creepy and authoritative, but they just seem completely out of left field here.

Although I loathed the film’s journey towards a conclusion, I found myself having great affection for everything that preceded it.  There are many moments in the film that garner legitimate awe and wonder, as is the case with one near fatal space walk that is dangerously close to the sun.  I also loved how Boyle makes space eerie and something to be simultaneously fearful and beautiful (one character seems addicted to looking at the sun through gigantic tinted view screens so much that he will surely need mass amounts of Aloe Vera gel to mend his flakey skin if he returns home).  Some of the vistas that Boyle places the gargantuan space ship against have a supernatural and foreboding magnificence to them.  The characters, along with the film’s aesthetic look, also lend to the film’s overall effectiveness.  The performances are genuinely strong and reflect the crew’s growing apprehension with their mission and with each other.  Ultimately, the film is deeply humanistic despite the sheer scope and brevity of the space mission.  What’s great about the film is that it embodies more emotional life in a genre that typically is all about action and spectacle.

I guess that is what I will take most out of SUNSHINE: it’s a tense, taut, and compelling thinking-mans sci-fi thriller that focuses on characters and human interaction first and lets the visuals and special effects linger in the background.  A film like this does not need space battles, dastardly villains, and alien life forms to intrigue audiences.  Instead, it commands respect by the way it generates such an irrefutable sense of dread and suspense with its proceedings.  SUNSHINE is an immersing sci-fi film of great power and grandeur; many of its images will remain with me and, on an emotional level, it stirs a natural sense of amazement and wonder.  It’s a frequently mesmerizing work - playing off of horror and thriller beats - that shows Boyle’s command over a very challenging genre of thoughtful and introspective sci-fi.  Now, if he only gave the script re-write number 36 and got rid of that needlessly head-shaking third act, then maybe SUNSHINE would have achieved a level of greatness.  What we are left with is a work that is challenging, memorable, thrilling, and frustrating to sit through.  I mean, you would at least think that the film would be smart enough to follow one cardinal rule that that past sci-fi films have established:

If you’re on a deep space mission and receive a distress call that could impede your ability to save human civilization, then don’t investigate it…for the love of God!

www.craigerscinemacorner.com

***  out of  ****

Danny Boyle’s SUNSHINE is like ARMAGEDDON for viewers with actual brains in their heads.  A cursory look at the two films will net some clear-cut similarities:  A mission deep into space involving a nuclear payload; a rag-tag group of astronauts that don’t always see eye to eye on the mission; a terrible cosmic event that spells doom for all of mankind back on earth, and so forth. 

Yet, what chiefly separates the two films is their tone and approach.  SUNSHINE works as an effective homage to the types of intellectually stimulating sci-fi that are compelling less by the action and visual effects that it throws at us and more by its character dynamics, themes, and overall mood they generate.  For a film about a futuristic mission that involves taking a nuke the size of Manhattan Island to the sun in hopes of re-igniting it to save the earth, SUNSHINE has very little action, per se, in it.  Rather, its key assets are the way it creates an ever-escalating sense of claustrophobia and dread throughout its running time, not to mention commenting on the gigantic implications of the mission involved.  From a premise perspective, SUNSHINE is intriguing and unique.  Whereas other sci-fi thrillers about deep space usually involve planets and aliens, SUNSHINE is predominantly about “fixing” the sun, a sort of silent, omnipotent antagonist.  Without it, the entire planet would face an eternity of Saskatchewan winters.  That’s really scary.

Watching the film, you keenly sense where Boyle is going with the material.  Being one of the more fearless and ambitious directors working today (his resume demonstrates that he is not intimidated by approaching different genres, as 28 DAYS LATER, MILLIONS, and TRAINSPOTTING demonstrate), Boyle seems inspired by a combination of elements from other great sci-fi films.  The metaphysical themes are right out of 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY, as are some of the film’s hauntingly beautiful images (a scene involving a pod bay door and crew members attempting to re-board a ship without space suits is also familiar).  There are also clear cut echoes to other ethereal films, like Andrei Tarkovsky’s SOLARIS, and the level of tightly confined, muggy, and claustrophobic space quarters seem inspired by Wolfgang Peterson’s DAS BOOT.  The final act of the film borrows heavily from ALIEN in many respects and, ironically, from Boyles own 28 DAYS LATER. 

The later influences are what works the least successfully in SUNSHINE.  During the film’s last act, there is a sharp – well, razor sharp – change in pace and tone, almost too much if one considers everything that the film builds to.  There is no denying that Boyle is gifted at crafting teeth-clenching levels of suspense and horror, and the final moments of SUNSHINE are superbly created and are genuinely frightening.  Yet, they kind of betray what a great film that it was leading into the last 30 minutes.  It has been said that Boyle and writer Alex Garland (who both collaborated with one another for 28 DAYS LATER and THE BEACH) went through 35 drafts before filming SUNSHINE.  It’s too bad that they did not realize during those 35 chances that the story’s plot twist and conclusion is odd and unsatisfying.

No matter.  Boyle does such an assured job here of balancing the film’s spiritual and inter-planetary issues alongside generating good performances from his lead actors.  That is not to say that he does not do an exemplary job with the film’s visuals.  Boyle correctly captures the vastness of space and counterbalances that with the confined environment that his characters live in on the space ship.  Many other similar films cut back and forth from the crew and their mission in space to needless sub-plots of worried loved ones back on earth.  Boyle resists the temptation to ever show scenes on earth, with the exception of one final moment.  Constantly making transitions from the bleakness of space and the sheer magnitude of the sun’s visage to scenes of normalcy on earth would have ruined the film’s aesthetic impact.  Like Ridley Scott’s ALIEN, he keeps his attention on space and the crew, which only amplifies the tension and intrigue.  By doing so, Boyle can also hone his focus on the relationships of the characters and how they, in turn, are at the complete mercy of their seemingly suicidal mission.

The film takes place in 2057 where we learn – with the aid of the ever-resourceful voice over - that the Sun is dying.  Wait a tick!  I was always lead to believe in all of my high school science classes that it would take a lot longer than 50 years for the Sun to perish.  Like…try billions of years (trust me; I looked it up just to be sure).  However, the film is not so much about the Sun dying as it is about it having a nasty infection that needs curing.  Logging on to various websites confirms this.  According to the film’s scientific advisory, the Sun in SUNSHINE’s future is infected with a “Q-ball”, or a “supersymmetric nucleus”, presumably left over from the big bang, which has disrupted its normal matter.  Now, in order to blast the Q-ball back to its constituent parts and returning the Sun back to normal, you would need a bomb…say…the mass of the moon.  Since a ship with a payload the mass of the moon would be inane, the filmmakers have decided on one the size of Manhattan.  Okay, so they took dramatic liberties…but it works for me.

The ship itself – wonderfully realized with state-of-the-art visual effects – is kind of like 2001’s Discovery ship stuck on a gigantic heat shield.  Imagine a pin (the ship) placed head first on the center of a Frisbee (the heat shield) and you kind of get the idea as to size and scale.  Of course, tension runs high for the ship’s (the Icarus II) crew, comprised of Captain Kaneda (Hiroyuki Sanada), his first officer is Harvey (Troy Garity), Capa (Cillian Murphy), Cassie (Rose Byrne), Corazon (Michelle Yeoh), Mace (Chris Evans), Searle (Cliff Curtis), and Trey (Benedict Wong).  Arguably, it is Capa that seems like the one most needed member on board, as it is he that manages the ship’s massive payload that will be used to detonate on the Sun to assist with its re-birth.  Of course, this drives a few of the other members crazy.  After all, who can truly be labeled as the most crucial on what is easily seen as a mission with a passable chance of never returning home.

That notion gnaws away at these space voyagers.  They all know, deep down, that they are eight people collectively that could save the earth.  Not only that, but there is also that nagging nightmare of the fate of the original Icarus (remember, they are on ship number II), which failed on their mission seven years earlier.  To make their situation seem even direr, all of the fissile material on earth was mined for the second mission, which means that if they fail, then the world is screwed royal.  Tensions particularly run high when, after 16 months in space, the ship passes a zone where no more communication with earth is possible.  The crew leaves their final messages – and potential good-byes – to their loved ones back home.  Capa’s message to his family is especially cryptic and poignant: “So, if you wake up one morning and it’s a particularly beautiful day, you’ll know we made it.”

While the ship passes around the dark side of Mercury, something startling happens: they hear an actual distress call from the original Icarus.  This then places the crew of ship II into a real dilemma.  Should they continue on with the mission and forget about the Icarus I crew to detonate the bomb on the Sun or should they go to the stranded vessel and look for survivors?  Clear-headed pragmatism would dictate that checking for anyone alive on a ship that has not been heard of for seven years would be stupid, and most of the crew acknowledges it.  Unfortunately for Capa, the ships Captain asks him to make to choice as to whether they rendezvous with the doomed vessel, seeing as that ship may have another usable payload.  Upon engaging in a highly stressful bit of risk assessment, Capa begrudgingly decides that “two last hopes are better than one,” and realizes that salvaging another payload would be a good idea.

The crew then docks with the apparently lifeless Icarus I, and from the point of proceeding on board to the film’s final act, SUNSHINE goes in some decidedly peculiar and unproductive directions.  I will try my best not to spoil anything that happens, but let’s just say that the Icarus II crew “discovers” something and that something proceeds to make it aboard their ship and starts to kill the crew members one at a time, not to mention that it apparently has a deep desire to sabotage the entire mission.  Mixed in with this ALIEN-esque action third act is some very confusing pontificating about the nature of God and man, which never really seems to be deciphered clearly by the screenplay or by Boyle’s direction.  Make no mistake about it, Boyle is an undisputed master at making SUNSHINE’S final moments creepy and authoritative, but they just seem completely out of left field here.

Although I loathed the film’s journey towards a conclusion, I found myself having great affection for everything that preceded it.  There are many moments in the film that garner legitimate awe and wonder, as is the case with one near fatal space walk that is dangerously close to the sun.  I also loved how Boyle makes space eerie and something to be simultaneously fearful and beautiful (one character seems addicted to looking at the sun through gigantic tinted view screens so much that he will surely need mass amounts of Aloe Vera gel to mend his flakey skin if he returns home).  Some of the vistas that Boyle places the gargantuan space ship against have a supernatural and foreboding magnificence to them.  The characters, along with the film’s aesthetic look, also lend to the film’s overall effectiveness.  The performances are genuinely strong and reflect the crew’s growing apprehension with their mission and with each other.  Ultimately, the film is deeply humanistic despite the sheer scope and brevity of the space mission.  What’s great about the film is that it embodies more emotional life in a genre that typically is all about action and spectacle.

I guess that is what I will take most out of SUNSHINE: it’s a tense, taut, and compelling thinking-mans sci-fi thriller that focuses on characters and human interaction first and lets the visuals and special effects linger in the background.  A film like this does not need space battles, dastardly villains, and alien life forms to intrigue audiences.  Instead, it commands respect by the way it generates such an irrefutable sense of dread and suspense with its proceedings.  SUNSHINE is an immersing sci-fi film of great power and grandeur; many of its images will remain with me and, on an emotional level, it stirs a natural sense of amazement and wonder.  It’s a frequently mesmerizing work - playing off of horror and thriller beats - that shows Boyle’s command over a very challenging genre of thoughtful and introspective sci-fi.  Now, if he only gave the script re-write number 36 and got rid of that needlessly head-shaking third act, then maybe SUNSHINE would have achieved a level of greatness.  What we are left with is a work that is challenging, memorable, thrilling, and frustrating to sit through.  I mean, you would at least think that the film would be smart enough to follow one cardinal rule that that past sci-fi films have established:

If you’re on a deep space mission and receive a distress call that could impede your ability to save human civilization, then don’t investigate it…for the love of God!

www.craigerscinemacorner.com

** out of ****

Apparently director Matthew Vaughn (LAYER CAKE) pitched his proposed adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s 1998 illustrated novel, STARDUST, as THE PRINCESS BRIDE meets PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN. I would also hasten to add that the film also appears to have several regurgitated elements from countless other whimsical fantasies. I think what is crucial for this genre is the right combination of originality and imagination. The best fantasies should inspire endless wonder in their viewers to the point where one does feel whisked away to another time and place. Unfortunately, the only thing that STARDUST ultimately inspires is petty boredom. 

The film certainly has its heart in the right place; it tells a simple and kind-hearted story with black and white heroes and villains. Yet, the film’s overall tonality is wickedly all over the map. My main misgiving with this fantasy is not with its spirit and enthusiasm, but rather with its focus. It tries to be like THE PRINCESS BRIDE in terms of having a sly and self-deprecating sense of humor, yet it is hardly that film’s tongue-in-cheek match. On top of that, the film seems to forget the type of comedic romp that it wants to be throughout its running time. Overstuffed is an adjective that comes chiefly to mind when thinking about STARDUST. It never seems to really decide on (a) what it wants to be about and (b) the type of mood it hopes to achieve. Filled with wicked witches, dying kings, ancient prophecies, a spunky hero, and a magical land, STARDUST simply has too many ingredients vying for attention. Not only that, but its pacing is elephantine in nature; most good fantasies never aspire you to check your watch as feverously as this one does. 

The film attempts to have a nice and delicate balancing act between being a lighter-than average fairy tale with comedic elements alongside some decidedly darker narrative flourishes. There are moments that are over-the-top and ridiculous that coincide with some ghoulish instances of mild horror. I think that the reason for the success of THE PRINCESS BRIDE was in how it never went to appease too many stylistic sensibilities. That film was sweet and innocent and worked efficiently as a throwback to the types of fantasies that would be read to us as children at bedtime. STARDUST never really knows what its mood will be from scene to scene. It suffers from cinematic personality disorder as a result; coherence has been pushed to the background.

Perhaps even worse is the fact that the film never attains a level of out-of-body wonderment that far many other – and better – fantasies have achieved. The film’s visual palette is surprisingly sparse and limited, and its visual effects seem to lack the polish and sheen that other similar films have attained. Its immortally colorless hero, played in a bland and one-note performance by Charlie Cox, does not assist the film’s bland vibe, not to mention that we have to sit through a rather inconsistent English accent provided by Claire Danes (who looks like the victim of a very bad makeover) in the film’s other integral part. For these types of romantic-fuelled fantasies we desperately need the male and female figures to have chemistry and intrigue. Danes and Cox have very little, and this is only compounded by Cox’s considerable lack of charisma. 

Thankfully, the film is saved in the performance realm by Michelle Pfeiffer, who once again plays opposite of type to portray a dastardly villain (she did the same – to much better effect – in HAIRSPRAY). The other performance worth mentioning is by Robert De Niro, who plays a pirate…that is also a closeted transvestite. Whereas Johnny Depp’s Captain Jack Sparrow was foppishly effeminate, De Niro’s swashbuckler has a more in-your-face homoeroticism. Outwardly, he’s a cast iron SOB with a violent streak. Inwardly, he has an appreciation for fine dresses, trendy hairstyles, and good high heel shoes. De Niro, who has made a career for playing monumentally scary and imposing men, plays deliciously against type as the very girly pirate. When he’s on screen the film comes alive. Unfortunately, his part is fairly limited in scope. 

The film’s plot, which appropriates the basic storyline from Gaiman’s novel, concerns young Tristan (Cox), an Englishman that ekes out a daily life of redundancy and monotony. His only ambition in life is to win the hand of the woman he adores, Victoria (Sienna Miller). Of course, the sexy and gorgeous Victoria is not in Tristan’s league, but she does tease him with a date, despite the fact that she has one of those obligatorical snobby, A-hole boyfriends. Yet, she makes him and offer that he can’t refuse. One night when the two have a candlelight engagement they see a shooting star blaze by overhead. She tells him that if he is able to successfully retrieve it and bring it back to her that she will dump her obnoxious suitor and embrace Tristan.  

Of course, Tristan will do absolutely anything to gain Victoria’s affection, so he willfully agrees to find the spot where the star fell to earth. Unfortunately for him, this brings him past his small town’s mysterious wall that separates it from a magical, off-limits fantasyland (for reasons unexplained, the security that separates the two worlds is astoundingly lacking). Anyhoo’, Tristan makes it past the rather weak guard at the wall and enters the magical world of Stormhold. To his surprise, he discovers that the star has the appearance of a woman, who is named Yvaine (pronounced “vain”, played by Danes). Yvaine, being a celestial being, contains such sought after secretes, like how to achieve immortality, proving herself to be a highly valuable commodity. 

Nevertheless, Tristan is able to convince her to accompany him back to Victoria if he will assist her with getting back “home”. Yet, the two don’t know that there are others that are battling to find and capture the fallen star. Firstly, there is nasty old hag of a witch named Lamia (Pfeiffer) who wants to capture Yvaine, cut out her heart, and eat it so that she can look eternally beautiful and young (when we first see her, she is a wart infested old hag; she has spells that will make her look momentarily young, but each new usage of magic turns her older again). The other party that wants to acquire the star is The Learesque King Stormhold (Peter O’Toole, wonderful, if not criminally underused, in the part), who has three living sons…and four dead ones. The dead sons appear as monochromed spectres, revealing their visages at the time of their respective deaths (one poor son has to walk eternally as a ghost with an axe plunged into his head). In order for the King’s throne to continue on past his death, he desperately needs the necklace worn by Yvaine, which will finalize the coronation of a living heir. One of his sons, Septimus (played in a decent performance of slimy evil by Mark Strong) will stop at nothing to rid the world of his other two living brothers in order to become the next King. 

Clearly, Tristan and Yvaine spend most of the film eluding capture and narrowly escape death on many occasions. They do manage to find a few friends and allies, the most prominent being a pirate named – yes – Captain Shakespeare (the wonderfully spirited and refreshingly jovial De Niro) who commands a pirate vessel that looks like a cross between the Black Pearl and a Zeppelin. The Captain is such a fiendishly giddy and amusing creation that you almost wish the entire film centered on him alone. He is a duplicitous figure, to say the least. He has to appear rugged and manly in conviction to his ship’s crew (one of the film’s funniest scenes shows him faking killing a man just to curb their favor), but inwardly he’s probably the gayest pirate ever to pillage the seas…or…air.

De Niro plays Shakespeare broadly and outlandishly, which is the correct mode for the role. It’s only a shame that the rest of the film did not maintain his silly and capricious energy and spunk. There is a scene of great spirit and hearty laughs when Shakespeare parades in front of a mirror with his favourite dress on. Some De Niro loyalists may cry foul and point out this being an embarrassing turn for the actor. To the contrary, seeing De Niro lose himself in such a ridiculous and eccentric part as one of STARDUST’S real treats. A brief cameo by the great Ricky Gervais also assists in the film’s comic relief, but his immense comic timing and skills are all but muted with a very small cameo. He certainly could have been used to a much greater degree.
 
However much wacky irreverence that De Niro gives to STARDUST, the rest of the film is a comic dead zone. This, of course, is where all favourable comparisons to the wonderfully funny THE PRINCESS BRIDE ends. The rest of STARDUST is never as sardonic and crafty as it professes to be, not to mention that the film lacks ingenuity with most of its characters and locales. Although Pfeiffer’s witch is entertaining in her sinfulness, there is nothing that separates her witch from the countless other ones that I’ve seen before in other films. The film also never makes its fairy land a place that is magical or memorable. Whereas LORD OF THE RINGS and the STAR WARS films were evocative and compelling for crafting awesome sights in their respective universes, STARDUST seems pitifully labored and manufactured. There is not one compelling or inspiring image to be had from Stormhold. Instead of transporting us to a foreign land that bustles with uniqueness, STARDUST’s universe is unremarkably flaccid and dull.  

STARDUST is not so much a star-studded train wreck of a fantasy as it is a large misappropriation of the talent involved. De Niro’s Captain Shakespeare is an infectious riot, and Pfeiffer has a considerable amount of fun playing a witch, but the two of them alone cannot overcome a decidedly underwhelming fantasy. The film tries to be tongue-in-cheek, inventive, and romantic with its underlining story, but it genuinely lacks the necessary merriment, originality, and likeable leads that it desperately requires. There are some elements of STARDUST that soar above the mediocrity of its inferior ones, but the sum of a few of its good parts do not make the overall film better than a largely forgettable and tedious bit of summer escapism. For a film that proclaims to have magic in it, it scarcely manages to achieve a glimmer of fantastical intrigue.
THE PRINCESS BRIDE it ain’t.

** out of ****

At the ripe old age of 53, it continues to amaze and delight me that Jackie Chan is still able to impress with his astoundingly dexterous and agile stunts. I would consider what he does in his fifties to be utterly impossible for me to do in my thirties…in good health.
Certainly, Chan is unable to perform all of his own stunts in recent films, but that fact alone should not spell disappointment for anyone in the audience. If anything, the very notion that he is able to engage in Herculean feats of acrobatic ability decades after most athletes call it a career is noteworthy in itself. I remember one improbably difficult stunt in 2001’s RUSH HOUR 2 where the nimble Chan had to hurl himself, feet first, all the way through a narrow bank teller slot. I have found it difficult just to get my hands underneath that opening to retrieve my change; Chan achieves the mind-boggling by flying his entire frame through it.
It is for small scenes like that one, along with countless others in many of his great films, why I have more respect for Chan than any other living actor. As his very famous outtakes that occur at the tail end of his films demonstrate, no other modern performer has put his very livelihood on the line for his craft than he has. Oftentimes I can’t decide what I marvel at more: the initial sight of the stunt performed in the film or the near-fatal injury that he suffered as a result of the stunt as shown in the credit bloopers. I fondly - and cringingly - recall one stunt in THE ARMOUR OF GOD where the intrepid Chan fell head first from a tree, fractured his skull, and forever afterwards had to walk the earth with a permanent hole in his head. Name one other action star that has not only put a hole in their skull, but has also broken their fingers, toes, nose, both cheekbones, hips, sternum, neck and ribs on multiple occasions. If anything, Chan not only deserves respect, but he seems to instantaneously get it by default.
All of this brings me to RUSH HOUR 3, Chan’s third teaming with co-star Chris Tucker and director Brett Ratner. The very first RUSH HOUR from way back in 1998 represented a very successful penetration of the Hollywood market for Chan, whose previous efforts to make solid mainstream US films were lackluster. The film was an effective appropriation of the classic cop/buddy formula pictures that dominated the 1980’s. You know, the kind where two hopelessly different cops with divergent backgrounds, tastes, and sensibilities are forced to team up and, despite their seemingly insurmountable opposition with one another, are able to overcome all, become great friends and allies, and save the day.
The first film overcame the monotony of its formula because of its two appealing leads. Chan has already made a career out of playing goofy, affable everymen caught in extraordinary circumstances, but when he was matched with Tucker, he had someone else with gifted comic timing to work with. As individuals, the two stars worked marvelously as foils to one another. Tucker, who reminded me considerably of a young Eddie Murphy in the first two RUSH HOURS, has that sort of indescribably cocky, macho, motor-mouthed exterior that was infectiously funny. Tucker’s Carter was the hotheaded and oftentimes naïve cop to Chan’s rational and focused investigator from China. As a fish out of water film, RUSH HOUR never walked into new territory, but it was entertaining to see two gifted performers work with and off of one another to great effect. The real reason to see RUSH HOUR was not only for Chan’s acrobatic skills, but because he and Tucker had such good chemistry.
The second RUSH HOUR, equally pleasurable as the first, took the same formula and turned it upside down on its head. This time it was Carter that was the fish out of water in China. Now comes RUSH HOUR 3, which makes both of the hero cops fishes out of water by sending them to France, complete with cameo by exiled, Oscar winning director Roman Polanski, who has the dubious task of performing a full body cavity search on the two as they enter the country. Polanski has been a rare commodity in American films (his last appearance in one was 1992’s BACK IN THE USSR and previous to that was his own CHINATOWN), so I guess it’s inevitably disappointing to see that he is reduced to a merely one-scene gag where he puts on a rubber glove, mugs the camera, and proceeds to stick his two fingers where the sun never, ever shines.
Yes…yes…RUSH HOUR 3 is in the tradition of its two prequels in the way it’s an action/comedy, but the main problem with the film is that it never achieves a series of sustained laughs and chuckles that the other two films had. RUSH HOUR 3 does have some memorable moments, as is the case where Carter, now reduced to being a traffic cop, shows how bumbling of a traffic cop he is, or another scene where Carter thinks a rather violent encounter that Chan has with a female assassin is a sexual fling. Another moment with Chan showing his reaction to Carter after he states how he now has a Chinese lifestyle is kind of giddy (“If you’re half Chinese, I’m half black. I’m your brother and I’m fly. You down with that, Snoopy? That’s dope, innit?).
There is another scene where Carter has a battle with a nearly 8-foot-tall behemoth that gets some chuckles (“This guys on steroids! His head is bigger than Barry Bonds!”). There is a very inspired dialogue exchange between Carter and two martial arts masters that would have made Abbott and Costello proud. Both are respectively named Mei and Yu and the sequence involving a battle of wordplay with their names works as an affectionate homage to the “Who’s on first” routine. Finally, there’s probably one of the best one-liner’s of the year where Carter tries to interrogate a French-speaking Chinese man. When he realizes that he is speaking French, he slaps him and screams, “You’re Asian, stop humiliating yourself!”
There are laughs to be had with RUSH HOUR 3, but the age and redundancy of the franchise is definitely starting to show. The Tucker/Chan character dynamic – albeit fun to watch again – never really dives into any fresh or invigorating comedic territory. At least the first two films had some comic mileage out of both being wet-behind-the-ears while in the other’s country, but RUSH HOUR 3 never explores the hilarious potential of the two being cultural novices in France. Instead of dealing with that, the film places unwarranted emphasis on its conspiratorial plot, which involves an assassination attempt, high ranking government diplomats, a gorgeous woman, a taxi driver that wishes he were Dirty Harry, and plot revelations that can be seen from a hundred miles away. From a narrative perspective, RUSH HOUR 3 is a lame duck sequel. The plot is never once compelling or interesting, and the rest of the film runs on automatic pilot behind it. This unfortunately drains out much of the overall enjoyment of the film. Chan still is a sight to behold while flinging his body around, and Tucker creates huge laughs with relative ease, but their talent alone is dwarfed by lame and insipid storytelling.
The paint-by-numbers story has Chief Inspector Lee (Chan) protecting a very important Chinese diplomat (once again played by Tzi Ma, who reprises his role from the first film) during his stay in Los Angeles. Apparently, the diplomat has some secret Intel about the infamous Triade crime syndicate. He is about to divulge it to the political world but is shot by an assassin. After a spectacular foot chase with Lee and the assailant, whom we later learn has a special relationship with him, Lee hooks up with his old trouble making American partner, Detective James Carter (the infectiously droll Tucker), who is now a lowly traffic cop. When the two arrive at the hospital, they meet up with the ambassador’s daughter, Soo Yung (the same one that was kidnapped in the first RUSH HOUR, now all grown up and played by Zhang Jingchu) and they vow to bring her dad’s would-be killer to justice.
Of course, this brings them to peruse the assassin, Kenji (Hiroyuki Sanada), who leads a Triade cell in Paris. The two then follow the trail to France, but have a bit of a tough time making it through airport security. Eventually, they gain some unlikely allies in the form of a rigidly and faithfully anti-American cabbie named George (Yvan Attal), who slowly gets addicted to Lee and Carter’s adventurous lifestyle. The plot goes through the rest of its mechanical motions and culminates predictably at the most famous landmark in Paris, the Eiffel Tower, where we get some decent stunt work and action, and an ingenious use of a large flag by Chan in one of his most clever sight gags. We also get a lot of shoddy CGI (not good for a Chan film) a kidnapped Ambassador’s daughter, and Max von Sydow is thrown into this contrived mix, playing a marginal part whose motivations are not the least bit surprising when revealed.
Despite the film’s detrimental and lackluster story, it would be too easy to label RUSH HOUR 3 as a complete failure. The film still generates decent laughs, and although Chan’s abilities have seriously diminished, the film still has some exciting action sequences. I especially liked an early scene involving a three way battle between Lee, Carter, and what has to be the biggest cinematic martial artist ever, played by real life “world’s tallest man”, Sun Ming Ming, measuring at 7 feet, 9 inches. An early car chase sequences through the streets of Paris is energetic, and the climatic battle between Lee and Kenji is fairly thrilling. Again, seeing a well past his prime Chan throwing his body in harm’s way is engaging, even if it appears that his usage of stunt doubles has increased exponentially with every new film. But at 53, can you hold that against him him?
Yet, RUSH HOUR 3 breathes with the same level of redundancy that has plagued other mishandled and second-rate third films in a franchise. The film has laughs and some genuinely good stunts, but its meager and woefully underwritten script involving all forms of rudimentary elements takes you out of the film. Brett Ratner, who has shown himself to be an intermittently decent director (he helmed the first two RUSH HOURS, plus the very under-rated RED DRAGON and the unfairly chastised X-MEN III: THE LAST STAND) is a competent director who paradoxically seems both above this material and right at home with it. Instead of letting this martial arts/action comedy trilogy end with a bang, Ratner, Chan and Carter unceremoniously conclude things with a derivative and mediocre effort that lacks enthusiasm and ingenuity. Make no mistake about, I will always give Chan four stars for effort, and RUSH HOUR 3 is no exception. It’s just a shame that the film around him and co-star Tucker only deserves half of that grade.

www.craigerscinemacorner.com

***1/2  out of  ****

If one is willing to excuse some of THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM’s logical shortcomings (like a hero that seems to defy death on too many occasions and a secret, CIA base of operations that seems far, far too easily breached by the same hero), then it works stupendously as an exercise in relentlessly paced action and tension. 

The film – the third in the Jason Bourne trilogy of films, and in turn ever-so-loosely based on the best selling novels by Robert Ludlum – will be fondly remembered by me as the best of the series and a spy thriller of virtuoso action set pieces and adrenaline-pumping intensity.  THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM is like a feverous and tenacious beast of a film that is tightly woven, lean, mean, and has a forward momentum that hurtles by with an unstoppable aggressiveness.  Leaving the theatre I felt tired and winded, like I was actually with Bourne on his search for his pre-amnesia identity.   

That experienced sensation is a compliment, not a criticism, because ULTIMATUM never once – not even during its “slower” moments – allows for the viewers to stop and collect themselves.  Very rarely has an action film created such an ethereal, in-the-moment resonance.  Films like SAVING PRIVATE RYAN gave you a same sense of haunting immediacy with its grunt p.o.v. of war combat and I think that what ULTIMATUM does is kind of the same; it makes you feel as you are with Bourne, side-by-side, breath for breath, as he runs, jumps, punches, kicks, and drives his way through his enemies in search of the truth.  You don’t simply passively and complacently watch the endlessly thrilling action in this film; rather, the action kind of pummels you over the head with its veracity and breakneck velocity.  As an assault on the senses, THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM is a masterstroke work in the genre.   

This should not come of any surprise.  The Jason Bourne films – which started with the decent THE BOURNE IDENTITY in 2002 and followed by the superior BOURNE SUPREMACY in 2004 – have always existed as wonderfully conceived spy thrillers that stood well apart from the pact.  The first film, directed very competently by Doug Liman, introduced us to Bourne as an amnesiac killing machine that was created by a secret cover faction of the CIA.  That film placed an intriguing twist on the genre by making the main antagonist of Bourne…himself.  He is an unmitigated force of lightning violence, but he can’t remember why or how he became so.  This simple and effective hook became the sort of MacGuffin that launched the whole series of films.  He escaped capture at the end of IDENTITY and things got even more personal when – through a series of complicated events – the life of his lover was taken.  Even worse was the fact that he was framed for a political murder that he did not commit. 

For my money, THE BOURNE IDENTITY was a solid and efficient spy thriller, but I found myself enjoying SUPREMACY even more, especially after re-watching them both back-to-back in preparation for ULTIMATUM.  In terms of overall story, SUPREMACY was a basic revenge thriller and political who-dunnit that did not really explore the damaged psyche of Bourne more fully.  Yet, I appreciated it more the second time around for its action and marveled at the thankless job Matt Damon did in presenting Bourne not so much as a ruthlessly strong and dexterous superman, but more as an emotionally damaged man of introverted aggressiveness and unhinged focus.  One of my initial complaints of SUPREMACY was in the shooting style of its action pieces, which kind of were Expressionistic by focusing on energy and mood, not flow and symmetry.  They were done with such a loose, free-flowing, cinema vérité style that I initially thought they were utterly distracting.  Upon a second viewing – and coupled with seeing ULTIMATUM – I now think that it ultimately works because of the way it fosters such a visceral feeling in the viewer.  It kind of has the realism of a documentary at times. 

To an even larger extent, the same can be held true for ULTIMATUM, which was also helmed by SUPREMACY’s director, Paul Greengrass.  The director’s last film, UNITED 93 – the best film of 2006, if not one of the finest of our current decade – showed the limitless talent and confidence that Greengrass had over edgy and difficult material.  ULTIMATUM is decidedly less of a controversial and relatable piece of film making than UNITED 93, but Greengrass’ impeccable and oftentimes unmatched sense of pacing is on display here in full force.  The real star of ULTIMATUM is Greengrass, who showcases his command over staging masterful action and creating palpable tension.  His style here is nearly flawless in execution; there is not an ounce of fat on this film: at 116 minutes, nothing extraneous is left.  It’s staggeringly efficient with its headlong swiftness and full-throttle vigor.   ULTIMATUM, along with SUPREMACY,  seems like that highly infrequent crossing of mainstream action milieu with the stylistic trappings of an art house film and Greengrass never falters once in the way he handles everything with such a calculating deftness.   

However stylish and evocative the direction of the film is, the other selling point of ULTIMATUM is Damon himself, who arguably has carved himself out one of the better action hero performances of recent memory.  As with all of the Bourne films, Damon does a exemplary job of not playing Bourne larger than life (which could have been a temptation with a lesser actor) and instead plays him with a subtle, buried level of teeth-clenched intensity and bravado.  The actor himself is often overlooked for what he does in these films when he’s not involved in large-scale stunt and action sequences.  It is his low-key and minimalist style that makes Damon such a compelling actor, and he plays his super spy with remarkable abilities as down-to earth as possible, making us relate to him more, despite his almost otherworldly ability to cheat death at any given moment. 

ULTIMATUM essentially takes place shortly after the events of the last film and Bourne once again is a wanted man by most levels of the US Government, but is able to miraculously stay one step ahead of them at any given time.  Of course, the singular intrigue that these films create is our willingness to root on Bourne in his quest to discover who he is and how he actually came to be a figure that could easily win a fistfight against John Rambo.  It’s a never-ending cat and mouse game between the Feds and Bourne: he wants to find out why they want him dead and discover his lost identity and the Feds want him dead because he is proof of the government’s top secret, off the books, black ops section of the CIA that does all types of illegal actions, like assassinating those they don’t wish to have alive anymore.   

At the beginning of the film he thinks he has found the break he has been looking for in the form of a reporter (Paddy Considine), who may have a source that could lead Bourne to the Intel he needs.  When that lead goes horribly wrong, the intrepid spy with memory loss ends up going on a worldwide trek through London, Tangier, Moscow, Madrid, Paris, Turin, and finally back to his New York.   The CIA seems to have insurmountable surveillance gadgetry and the latest computer devices to catch Bourne, but his wits outmatch their hardware.  The department’s black ops head, Noah Vosen (the always stern and dependable David Strathairn), has a clear purpose of finding and killing Bourne.  Agency director Erza Krammer (Scott Glenn, decent in a small, but crucial, role) also does not want to see Bourne come home alive.  At least Bourne has some allies in the form of Pamela Landy (Joan Allen) and Nicky Parsons (Julia Stiles), who risks their careers in the end to help Bourne recapture his past.   

It is safe to say that some of ULTIMATUM’S story speeds by with a bit of routine predictability.  The instant we meet Krammer and Vosen we know the two will be an uncaring thorn in Bourne side, not to mention that Landy and Parsons will be allies in his cause.  Also, it’s safe to assume that Bourne will also rigidly evade capture at any given moment when it appears that this secret CIA group has enough intelligence capabilities to capture a dozen bin Ladens.   

Yet, this film is not about the verisimilitude of its underlining story, but with its overall tone and implementation of its fearsome stunts and action pieces.  There are many in the film that are real showstoppers.  An early sequence that shows Bourne trying to assist the news reporter from escaping assassination in a train station is kind of brilliant in its build-up and payoff, as is a later scene, which builds to a moment of comeuppance for Bourne against the CIA (which, as stated, does not speak highly for their own security).  Probably the best sequence in the film is a daring and ruthlessly thrilling foot chase that involves Bourne, Parsons, and a pursuer through the streets, balconies, and rooftops of Tangiers, which eventually culminates in a spectacularly choreographed fight that makes you kind of gasp alongside the combatants.  No doubt, when the action kicks into gear, ULTIMATUM is an almost insurmountable force.  The film is not triumphant because of its narrative finesse, but solely because of its pummeling, mind-altering stunts and action.  Sure, a lot of them may be as outlandish and silly as those seen involving John McClane, but under the watchful and remarkably confident eye of Greengrass, ULTIMATUM reaches a staunch level of gritty, primitive realism that the last few DIE HARD films wished they had. 

Watching this third film in the Jason Bourne trilogy – with its savvy, roller coaster pacing and bruise knuckled-action – left me feeling utterly fatigued.  However, as an action film to be actively experienced, this is one of the unequivocal best in awhile.  It left me – like a drug addict wanting another fix – desperately yearning for more, which is more than I can say for the summer’s other lackluster and unfulfilling sequels, like SPIDER-MAN 3, LIVE FREE OR DIE HARD, and HARRY POTTER AND THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX.  ULTIMATUM is not only one of the best summer action films, but also one of the best three-quels of recent memory.  There is, however, a more-than-slight hint that Mr. Bourne will survive this film outing and return again to the silver screen.  Something tells me that he will be back to make this film series a Bourne Quadrilogy.  That’s why ULTIMATUM is a rather atypical third entry in a series, one that is clearly better tailored and made than the two previous ones that preceded it.  It also does not compel you to pray for the series’ quick end; it makes you actually root for more. 

In Bourne’s case, here’s hoping. 

www.craigerscinemacorner.com

***1/2  out of  ****

RESCUE DAWN is a film about man’s obsessive battle with the elements around him.  At face value, it looks like it is another in a long line of POW films, but the film is a rather atypical Vietnam War entry in the sense that it deals with internal conflicts instead of large scale battles and bloodshed.  There are moments in the film that breathe with a certain familiarity, but RESCUE DAWN rises above some of its perfunctory and mundane elements by becoming a rich, absorbing, and creepily atmospheric war film.

The themes alone should come of no surprise if one considers the man behind the camera.  Werner Herzog himself has gained a reputation as a director with borderline primeval instincts and limitless passion.  He has made such powerful and evocative films like FITZCARRALDO, whose main character shared much of the same compulsions as Herzog himself (the film contained a now infamous feat where Herzog and company moved a 340 ton steamship over a mountain, without any discernable visual effects; a staggering achievement that reflected the film’s overall story arc).  Most of his films have focused on heroes of that have impossible dreams and aspirations and hope to attain them against insurmountable odds.  His characters have always had a sort of operatic gravitas in terms of their emotional substance (Herzog’s films have often been characterized as Wagnerian in scope and presentation).  Again, this only helps to re-enforce the sensibilities of the director.

In RESCUE DAWN Herzog flirts with many elements that have permeated his other films, but here the emotional context is less grandiose and is brought down to a palpable level of realism.  That is not to say that Herzog enthusiasts will be disappointed with this effort (it has his quintessential knack for lush and beautiful cinematography, sparse use of music, daring performances, and a low-key and simplistically compelling shooting style), but RESCUE DAWN does a virtuoso job of telling a harrowing story of one man’s predilection to surviving one hellish ordeal after another.  The film is not just ostensibly about heroism, but how one can been driven to an almost instinctual perseverance to overcome deadly obstacles.  In small ways, RESCUE DAWN is pure Herzog done with much more subtle brushstrokes.

Instead of focusing on battles and politics (which oftentimes are the only prevailing aspects of many war films), Herzog deals with one man, the real life Dieter Dengler, a German born American pilot that dreamed of fighting for his country.  He eventually joined the US Navy during the Vietnam War era and eventually was stationed on a carrier in the Gulf of Tonkin.  Once there he was assigned to a highly classified and secret bombing mission over Laos.  Unfortunately for him, he was shot down by the enemy and was captured and placed in a prisoner of war camp, where he faced all sorts of horrible physical and mental hardships.  The fact that Dieter was able to overcome is captors and escape is amazing in hindsight.  Only seven men - including Dengler - have managed to escape from a Viet Cong POW camp and survive.

It’s no wonder why this material appeased Herzog.  It’s also very easy to see how he managed to conceive not one, but two great films about Dengler’s story.  RESCUE DAWN is not the first story of Dengler to have Herzog’s fingerprints on it; he made the 1997 documentary LITTLE DIETER NEEDS TO FLY, which dealt with - more or less - the story of the real life Dengler where Herzog took the POW survivor back to the location of his captivity.  Now, ten years later, RESCUE DAWN represents the filmmaker’s desire to make a feature film out of the material, which Christian Bale playing the lead.  Like LITTLE DIETER, RESCUE DAWN has Herzog returning to the jungle to deal with Dengler’s hellish and unimaginable story.  What’s intrinsically fascinating is how breathtaking and engrossing the feature film is compared to the documentary.  It makes for a compelling study: two works done by the same director, but told in two decisively different manners.

Dieter (in another scene-stealing performance by the ever-versatile Christian Bale) is shown in the middle of his naval career in 1965.  The opening scenes have a free-flowing and loose spontaneity.  Dieter and his fellow pilots are briefed and instructed on their top-secret Laos bombing mission and even joke through a painfully flaccid and horribly performed Naval training newsreel that details how to survive being shot down in Viet Cong enemy territory.  Dieter and his buddies don’t think too highly of the training film, nor of their upcoming mission.  To them, it seems like another day at the office.

But things go disastrously wrong for Dieter when his plane is abruptly shot down.  Incredibly, he does not go into instant panic mode.  He uses the dense jungle foliage to mask himself from his enemies and hopes that the Americans will quickly come in for a rescue.  However, some time passes and it grows increasingly clear to Dieter that he will not be picked up any time soon.  Things go from bad to worse when he is captured by the enemy and taken to their POW camp.

As is the case with most standard POW camp genre films, Dieter meets up with a colorful and eclectic group of other deranged detainees, all of whom appear to have been there for quite some time.  He meets up with Duane (in a career high performance by Steve Zhan), a sort of soft spoken and complacent prisoner, and Gene (in a undeniably creepy performance by Jeremy Davis), who is another prisoner that seems beyond depraved and unstable.  Their daily ordeal of living as prisoners is unspeakable cruel.  They are fed little, if anything, and are tormented routinely.  One moment  that is especially haunting and disturbing shows Dieter being tied up and hung upside down with an wasp’s nest wrapped around his head.  Sleeping every night is seemingly impossible.  All of the prisoners are shackled by their hands and feet and are placed in opposite directions of one another while sleeping on the bare ground.