Just as Jaws remade the modern blockbuster and kick-started
an era of imitators who frequently tried to cop its moves via a
misapplication of its lessons, so too has the overwhelming commercial
success and (only recently mitigated) critical embrace of the Spider-Man and X-Men films changed both the way that cinematic comic book adaptations are shepherded to the big screen and taken in by audiences. In the summer of 2005, Fantastic Four
debuted to $56 million, en route to a $154 million tally domestically.
It was mostly reamed by critics, however, rightly derided as simple-minded,
bland and lacking in its execution. Fan-boys, meanwhile, as is their wont, nit-picked the movie
to death, carping over everything from the casting and costumes to its
storyline and effects work. When everyone finally pushed away from the
table, the result was a theatrical haul of more than $330 worldwide.
Still, there didn’t seem to be much happiness about the final product,
either amongst cast or audiences. Fantastic Four was an almost anonymous, flavorless hit, like Lara Croft: Tomb Raider or Van Helsing, each of which pulled comparable box office numbers.
A lot is riding on Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer,
then. And so it’s no coincidence that the sequel sort of circles the
narrative wagon, plays up some of the same thematic elements that the
character of Spider-Man has grappled with (a superhero’s place in the
world, trying to find some sense of normalcy in one’s private life),
and goes to painstaking lengths to plumb a tale that not just sets up
another installment but in fact actively flows to a third film.
Leaner than its predecessor, almost too much so, and also, to much derisive gossip, rated PG to the original’s
PG-13, Rise of the Silver Surferwill suffer the slings and
arrows of not being perceived as hip enough to qualify as a truly
“good” or substantial comic book film. And is there some truth to that?
Possibly, though I read precisely two Fantastic Four comics as
a kid, remember very little about them, and therefore feel no
duty-bound sense of outraged betrayal over any alleged pillaging or
besmirching of the source material.
It is true that Rise of the Silver Surfer is a relatively
streamlined movie of primary colors and emotions, and unmuddled motivations. It’s flip, and light of foot. But
every adolescent generation needs those sorts of pictures, right? And whereas the
first Fantastic Four didn’t really succeed in establishing a
compelling backdrop of heightened (or, on the other hand, hyper-)
reality, this iteration feels a lot more comfortable in its skin. Even
if that skin is of a children’s size. For the full review, from FilmStew, click here. For an interview with co-screenwriter Don Payne, meanwhile, click here.
Casting About, billed as both an
exploration of the casting process and a celebration of the demanding craft of acting
— hopes that unfortunately remained unmet, or even really approached. In late
2000, Hershey set out to cast actresses for a dramatic film that he had
co-written and intended to direct. The plan was to incorporate some of the
casting footage into the fiction film, an idea having arisen from Hershey’s
first experience with casting at film school more than 20 years earlier. After
reviewing the more than 70 hours of tapes, a decision was then made to shape
this rich material into a film of its own. Casting
About was thus born.
Consisting of the audition footage of over 180 actresses reading
for three roles in a dramatic film, the movie includes tape from sessions held
in Berlin, Boston, Chicago, London and Los Angeles, weaving together actor
interviews, monologues and a bit of scene work to create an impressionistic collage
of the casting experience — a bit too impressionistic, really. To the layperson, acting is a beautiful mystery, and the serial
rejection of the audition cattle call process even more baffling. That, if
anything, is what would draw a non-actor to this movie. Yet the latter isn’t at
all addressed, and the moments of hard-cut, snapped-to invention and creativity
— think of what made Naomi Watts’ audition scene in Mulholland Drive so memorable — are few and far between.
To be even blunter, Casting
About is boring and pedantic. There are a few moments of heartbreak and
intrigue — moments that make you realize, in case one had doubts — just how
much talent there is out there. And a few recognizable faces pop up, including Mädchen Amick and Alexandra Holden, in a superb scene. But there’s also a lot of awful performance
butchering from heavily accented Eastern European gals (another montage of purposeful
accents is downright painful), and the movie opens with a wordless,
two-minute-and-40-second introduction, tipping its hand at just how portentous a
work it is, even at 85 minutes. The title of Casting About, then, is dispiritingly on point; more pruning and a
sharper focus is needed. No matter how familiar one is with the texts herein — including
monologues from warhorses like Anton Chekhov, and the work of renowned
contemporary playwrights such as Eric Bogosian, David Hare, Richard LaGravenese,
Susan Miller, Keith Reddin and Alfred Uhry — the crux of the movie should be in
the actresses themselves, and what drives and informs them. Hershey (The Empty Mirror) doesn’t bring that
into focus with any sort of greater authorial touch, preferring instead to
remain an uncommitted voyeur in the name of “art.” (Kino International, unrated,
85 minutes)
One of the benefits of the DVD format is undeniably the
grouping of what might be termed minor chord work, thus allowing for more full-fledged
experimentation without feeling like one is getting ripped off. Certainly this
is true of the new disc from distributor First Run Features which brings together two
portraits of artists from underappreciated dabbler Allan Miller, one of America’s
foremost documentary chroniclers of classical music. Winner of a short-form
Academy Award, 1973’s The Bolero offers
up an intimate portrait of Los Angeles Philharmonic conductor Zubin Mehta at
work, while In Search of Cézanne asks
how much knowledge is necessary to justify one’s artistic likes and dislikes.
One of the most honored films of its kind, The Bolero captures the essence of an
orchestra, trading in a style that regional documentarians like Raul Abellanio
would later adapt to chronicle the simple, workaday rituals of migrant farmhands.
In over-the-shoulder fashion, producer Miller (Small Wonders, From Mao To
Mozart: Isaac Stern in China) and co-director William Fertik focus on Mehta
as he prepares to conduct the Los Angeles Philharmonic in a stellar performance
of Ravel’s classic, titular composition. Viewers are given insights into the
music, the workings of a great orchestra, and leadership style and teamwork,
all by observing a world renowned conductor in rehearsal and performance. Running
just over 25 minutes, the movie explores new ways to keep music in the
foreground, chiefly trading in extreme close-ups that give new contact with
each performer and their music. The
Bolero introduces each musician and instrument as a distinct personality
rather than an anonymous member of an anonymous group and in doing so helps feed
viewers’ understanding of music as an organic, collaborative and symbiotic undertaking.
By smartly saving shots of Mehta for the end, the film delays its climax to match
that of Ravel’s passionate score.
In Search of Cézanne
is an exploration of the life and legacy of 19th century French painter Paul
Cézanne, as seen through the eyes of a young female documentary filmmaker who
is just discovering his work. Traveling from New York
to Paris and to Cézanne’s hometown
in the south of France, meeting scholars and family of Cézanne at each stop,
her journey is a satisfying inquiry into artistic expression and its
appreciation. In the progress of this search, the film interweaves over 45 of
Cézanne’s paintings, photographed with careful attention to color and detail.
Housed in a regular Amray case in a snap-hinge tray, The Bolero/In Search of Cézanne is
presented in full-screen, and runs in aggregate under an hour. A brief text biography
of Miller, notes on the films and trailers are the only air-quote supplemental
extras. A chat with the man himself or a more comprehensive mini-doc would certainly have been a welcome
inclusion, but it doesn’t sully this release. For more information, phone (800) 229-8575, or to purchase the title via Amazon, simply click here. B- (Movies) C+ (Disc)
A half-hour soap dramedy from gay cable net Logo revolving
around a quartet of gym-sculpted, homosexual, African-American West
Hollywoodites, Noah’s Arc isn’t necessarily
in what one might characterize my diversionary entertainment wheelhouse. That’s
OK, though. Downplaying the “bitch factor” that still plagues gay characters on
many mainstream, regular broadcast “straight” shows, Noah’s Arc charts the personal and professional lives of its
regulars with aplomb and style.
Per its official Logo web site, Noah’s Arc centers on its titular
protagonist (Darryl Stephens), a struggling screenwriter who believes he’s
finally found lasting love in a relationship with a newly out man, Wade (Jensen
Atwood). Noah’s hopeless romanticism is put to the test by his friends Alex
(Rodney Chester), Ricky (Christian Vincent) and Chance (Douglas Spearman), all
of whom constantly remind him of the pitfalls of getting involved with a gay
newbie. Nevertheless, Noah is determined to try to make it work, no matter the
cost.
Loud, opinionated and unfailingly loyal, Alex is an HIV/AIDS
educator and the de-facto matriarch of the group — involved in a seemingly
happy, seven-year relationship with registered nurse Trey (Gregory Keith).
Shaven-headed college professor Chance seemingly has a similarly rooted
personal life — a prim and proper relationship relatively new boyfriend Eddie
(Jonathan Julian) and a step-daughter to boot. Ricky, meanwhile, pines after
Junito (Wilson Cruz).
Noah’s Arc is
briskly paced, and packs most of its tension, fun and punch in the
juxtaposition and clash of its characters’ varying opinions, and how these
attitudes are tested through romantic temptation and other trials and
tribulations. The most conservative and supposedly rational of the group,
Chance always has an intellectual explanation for everything. But after getting
the family he’s always wanted in one-stop-shopping fashion, can he handle the
pressures of domestic bliss? And how will he cope if the fairytale he’s dreamed
of turns out to be more like a nightmare? Alex, meanwhile, copes with jealousy
and suspicion, particularly when Trey starts trying to spice up their
stagnating sex life with some role playing and new ideas. There are other macro
plotlines, but some of these feel like a stretch. Noah’s Arc is best when just sticking to the more inherently
relatable struggles of its well-sketched main quartet. From new boyfriends to
strained friendships to career changes, these men persevere and live their
lives with grace and wit.
Spread out over three discs and housed in a sturdy cardboard
slipcover, this attractively packaged set contains all eight of Noah’s
Arc’s second season episodes, as well as a nice complement of supplemental extras.
Special short digisodes with optional commentary and episodically grouped
deleted scenes stud the first two discs, while cast interviews, behind-the-scenes
featurettes, special photo galleries and a brief blooper reel round out the
collection. There’s also an Easter egg for a calendar shoot several of the
characters took part in, accessible by toggling up on the main menu screen of
the third disc. For more information, visit the show’s web site by clicking here. B (Show) A- (Discs)
With Father’s Day looming just around the corner, I thought I’d do those potentially looking for a gift, as well as war movie fans in general, a solid, and re-post this review of the DVD release of The Big Red One, which bowed in a very special extended, restored edition in May of 2005. A slightly redacted version of my original review is as follows:
As a filmmaker, Samuel
Fuller developed a reputation for shock and coarseness, but
nothing ever compared to the horrors that he lived through as a decorated
combat veteran of the First Infantry in World War II. In 1980, he made a movie loosely
based on his own experiences, but it was taken away and re-cut prior to its
theatrical release. Digitally restored and re-mastered, with 47 minutes
of never-before-seen footage overseen by Time
critic and filmmaker Richard Schickel and Warner Bros. archivist Brian Jamieson
— who in 2005 were justly lauded with special citations from the Los Angeles Film
Critics Association and National Board of Review for their work — The Big Red One: The Reconstruction rights that wrong, and stands
as a riveting renovation of one of the most underappreciated war dramas of our
time.
Clocking
in at 162 minutes, The Big Red One is
introduced by a title card as “a fictional life based on factual death,” a
notation Schickel mentions was part of Fuller’s original screenplay as well as
the novelization of the film. It centers in undemonstrative fashion on the war
years of a gruff, unnamed sergeant (Lee Marvin, above right, painting in stark, effective
strokes of surly reticence) who heads up a fresh-faced 12-man rifle squad
anchored by four men who just keep living through a litany of hellish
assignments, from the North African invasion of 1942 through Sicily in 1943,
D-Day and the liberation of a concentration camp. Those men are Bronx writer Zab (Robert Carradine, Revenge of the Nerds’ Lewis Skolnick),
at-odds sharpshooter Griff (Mark Hamill), lanky Italian Vinci (Bobby Di Cicco)
and Johnson (Kelly Ward). Hamill and Carradine easily make the strongest
impressions, likely because their characters are the most obvious stand-ins for
Fuller himself, and his feelings of conflict on war.
The
bracing success of The Big Red One,
though, chiefly stems from the fact that it transposes the theorem that war
reduces everything to irrationality to even the setting of a “just war” like
World War II, something a nation still reeling psychologically from the Vietnam
War had yet to come to grips with. In fact, the movie opens with a
black-and-white World War I sequence where a then-young Marvin unknowingly
slays a German soldier after an armistice has been called, and the
hollowed-out, ant-encrusted eyes of a wooden saint statue make clear that there
are no right and certain answers on the battlefield.
While
Hollywood battle choreography had not yet progressed to the level where actors
were put through intensive, grueling boot camps (and thus some of its action
still consists of the generic, run-around variety that looks silly in the wake
of expansive, real-time sieges like in Saving
Private Ryan), The Big Red One
retains an impressive scope. Still, Fuller is more interested in pre-battle
moments — the tension, camaraderie and even surrealities of massive armed
conflict. Sometimes these details are as darkly comedic or touching as they are
horrific (a solider attempting to wade ashore with a dry roll of toilet paper,
a wounded “wet nose” checking his privates after Marvin deceives him in an
effort to keep him from going into shock). Sometimes, though, the results are
less convincing: a pregnant woman on the battlefield and a gay German doctor
who plants one on a wounded Marvin in a brief sequence of detainment come
across as absurdist flourishes, and a parallel subplot involving a German
officer akin to Marvin’s (some of their dialogue is even the same) doesn’t
fully connect.
Available
alongside director Ken Annakin’s new-to-DVD 1965 film Battle of the Bulge, itself a recreation of one of the most crucial
confrontations of World War II, The Big
Red One is delivered on a great two-disc special edition, eclipsing by
miles the previous bare-bones, theatrical cut DVD incarnation. Reconstruction
producer Schickel provides an erudite and humble if waning commentary over the
feature on its first disc; the second disc houses alternate scenes,
before/after comparisons of the restoration work, a profile on Fuller, radio
spots and trailers and a photo gallery. There’s also a 1980 promo reel narrated
by Marvin, a 1946 short on the company produced by the War Department, and a
wonderful, 45-minute making-of documentary that features new interviews with
cast and crew, as well as archival footage of the director himself, who died in
1997. For fans of brawny but intelligent war drama, The Big Red One delivers a heckuva punch. B+ (Movie) A (Disc)
Ever wonder what Office Space would be like animated, and shortened to 30 seconds? Oh, and featuring all of the characters recast as rabbits?Then click here…
So it seems that a 29-year-old Memphis, Tennessee projectionist working for the Malco Theatre chain
has lost his job after writing an early review of 20th Century Fox’s Fantastic
Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer for the web site Ain’t It Cool News.
Jesse Morrison, who pens write-ups under the screen name Memflix, crushed the film in a review, and then got canned — or, sorry, “suspended without further notice” — two days later, after Malco received a phone call from Fox. No demands were made, insisted Malco Senior VP Jimmy Tashie, but the intimation/popular conjecture is that Fox put the screws to Malco, threatening to pull screening business or deal with them unfavorably somewhere down the line if punitive measures weren’t taken.
Predictably, AICN’s Drew McWeeny circled the wagons and launched into a Fox-bashing tirade over the matter, while Morrison himself milked the cow of sympathy and stuck a moistened finger of pitiable measurement to the air, saying, in The Hollywood Reporter, “I’m hoping to get a job as a professional movie reviewer, but I don’t know what’s going to happen with that. I guess you could say I’m at some kind of crossroads right now.”
<Deep sigh> Can anyone really be surprised over this? Morrison says he didn’t autograph a non-disclosure agreement, nor was he ever asked to, in which case he says he would have signed. OK, fine. Still, I have to figure it’s within Malco’s right to fire him for such an offense (e.g., they can find something in their HR policy manuals to justify), and the guy’s an idiot if he didn’t recognize the danger inherent in what he was doing as an unaffiliated stringer. Do what you’re gonna do, but at least have the stones to own it in the end, and not go mock-shocked or hat-in-hand after the fact.
It may seem like big, bad, tit-for-tat corporate reciprocation, but it’s a game that’s played all the time in Hollywood and everywhere else. What do you think Fox was doing when they dumped Mike Judge’sIdiocracylike a murder victim last fall, tossing it out in 130 theaters (including zero in New York City) in a mere seven cities early September in an unpublicized, cover-of-night release? They were playing corporate hardball, the popular rumor — never addressed by Fox — being that certain other corporations didn’t respond nicely to Judge’s futuristic lampooning of their products, names and brands, and pressured Fox to squash the film. So… Fox gave the movie its contractual release, but offered no screenings, advance word, etc. — this for a director whose cult hit Office Space moved millions of units on DVD purely on the strength of word-of-mouth. Draw your own conclusions. It’s all about pressure points, people. Anthony Hopkins’ Fracture character would certainly approve…
I’d previously touched on Sigourney Weaver joining the cast of the Tina Fey/Amy Poehler comedy Baby Mama, about a single woman and aspirant mom who hires a surrogate mother to carry a child to term. It seems like the former Saturday Night Live Weekend Update deskmates are an attractive commodity to costars, as, per The Hollywood Reporter, Maura Tierney and Greg Kinnear have now also joined the cast.
Tierney will play Fey’s more conventional sister, a natural mother of two who nonetheless supports her sister’s choice. Kinnear, meanwhile, will play the male lead — the owner of a local juice
shop who becomes romantically entangled with Fey’s character as she begins her pursuit
of a surrogate. One presumes, then, that some mention will be made of squeezing melons…
The impending arrival of summer brings with it a dose of sweaty
laughter in the form of 1979’s Meatballs,
featuring Bill Murray in his first starring big screen role. Though it helped
spawn a number of desultory sequels and hornball teen sex comedies, director Ivan
Reitman’s debut studio film is actually a very sweet-natured albeit ramshackle movie,
powered by Murray’s shaggy
personality and indefatigable energy.
Murray stars as Tripper
Harrison, the wackiest counselor in the history of North Star, a plebian summer
camp which stands in stark contrast to the nearby elitist Camp Mohawk, the annual hot-months roost
for snotty and privileged young brats. Despite this purposefully highlighted
distinction (and the obligatory Olympiad competition finale between the groups),
there’s actually much less inter-camp pranksterism than one might surmise based
on that synopsis. Most of the film centers on Tripper and some of the other
counselors cracking jokes with one another, playing tricks on lead counselor Morty
(Harvey Atkin), and good-naturedly chasing female staffers like headstrong Roxanne
(Kate Lynch).
What’s most notable about Meatballs is just how real
the kids are, and how legitimate its setting and energy feels. That’s not too
surprising considering it was filmed on location at an actual summer getaway, Camp White Pine, located just north of Toronto,
and used many of the camp’s actual enrollees and counselors as extras. Meatballs isn’t a movie with a lot of
preciousness in it; in fact, it’s downright sloppy at times, which is either
part of its charm or cause for wincing. Watching this film again, definitely
more than 20 years since I’d seen it, I was struck by just how much some of its
silly moments — not to mention the sing-songy, insidiously catchy theme song, which
kicks off with the refrain, “Are you ready for summer?” — stick to your psyche.
One of the biggest such reminiscences, of course, is Murray’s
wild speech of pressure-valve release and underdog empowerment, which builds to
a chanted, repetitive climax of, “It just doesn’t matter!” It’s funny, but
there’s also something that rings really psychologically true in that scene,
which makes it even more memorable.
Housed in a regular Amray case in turn stored in a raised-lettering
cardboard slipcover, this special edition release of Meatballs is presented in 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen, and has
been digitally re-mastered under Reitman’s supervision for optimal picture and
sound. There are a few light flashes and color problems early on, but these
annoyances quickly recede into the background for the most part. Audio is
presented in strong English language Dolby digital 5.1 and stereo mixes, with
optional English, Spanish and French subtitles.
There’s also an audio commentary track with Reitman and
co-writer Dan Goldberg, and it’s a warm and self-effacing affair. The pair talks
about add-on re-shoots, which included the movie’s cold open with Tripper first
awaking, as well as the card-playing and bus terminal scenes with Tripper and Rudy,
to better flesh out the arc of their relationship. The production’s lack of
financing is frequently mentioned, and Reitman takes care to point out crew
members who serve as occasional extras (casting director Jack Blum even played gangly
Spaz). Reitman also tells a funny anecdote about contacting composer Elmer
Bernstein, and working out a deal for him to score the movie on spec; Bernstein
agreed, for a percentage of its receipts, and Reitman relates that it turned
out to be one of the more lucrative assignments he ever arranged.
A three-part making of documentary runs 47 minutes in total,
and includes sit-down interviews with Reitman, writer Goldberg and the
aforementioned actors Makepeace, Lynch and Atkin, as well as writer Len Blum,
costume designer Judy Gellman and many more. The big problem, of course: no Murray.
That’s a mortal wound, really, for a title constructed around such a cult of
personality. That said, there are plenty of nice stories and insights herein, including
from Reitman and others recounting the movie’s campfire ghost story scene. Murray
was apparently a bit drunk, as were several other cast members; Reitman jokes
that he thinks Murray channeled
Richard Burton in the sequence. Keith Knight, meanwhile, relates how he won his
role in large measure by impulsively shaving his moustache (grown for a stageplay
he was in at the time) on site at an audition, in order to convince Reitman
that he could in fact look younger. Most fascinatingly, Reitman and Goldberg
recount how the famously elusive and noncommittal Murray never actually technically
committed to the movie; his friend Harold Ramis was hired to punch up the
script, but Murray kept stringing Reitman and the producers along before
finally just saying he’d “be there” after they’d already started shooting, and
showing up on the third day of filming. Overall, a big part of Meatballs’ appeal lies in one’s embrace
of it as nostalgia. It’s a lighthearted family romp, and key to understanding and
appreciating the further ascendancy of Murray’s
big screen career. B (Movie) B+ (Disc)
Nikki Reed is no longer the messed-up young girl from Thirteen, the breakthrough film which she co-authored with director Catherine Hardwicke, based on her own slippery-slope experiences of an emancipated adolescence. Of course, she never really was that girl, as she’s quick to point out. Refreshingly unguarded during a recent sit-down chat at a Los Angeles hotel, Reed has a sly, astute and furtively confidential tone — when she appends a questioning “you know” to the end of a sentence, it’s not some vacuous, Valley Girl vernacular, but rather an intimate, imploring solicitation of deeper agreement and common ground.
Reed’s most recent films — Mini’s First Time and Cherry Crush, the latter of which hits DVD in a few weeks — didn’t catch fire at the box office, but with a Kevin Smith television pilot (Reaper) and a couple more indie flicks in the can (Familiar Strangers, Privileged), the 19-year-old Reed stands poised to make another full-frontal assault on Hollywood in the near future, all with an eye toward eventually writing and producing more of her own projects. “I didn’t know I was going to act until four years ago,” Reed says. “I did Thirteen and was like, ‘Whoah, that was cool, what a funny mistake.’ And then all of a sudden I moved out and couldn’t go back to school and that was my only choice. So I acted to pay the bills. Now I’m acting because I enjoy it. And that’s all I can say about it, because it’s not going to be the rest of my life.”For the full feature piece/interview, from FilmStew, click here.
So the trailer for Captivity, the Roland Joffé film that created an uproar with its controversial marketing scheme and subsequent slapdown by the MPAA, has dropped online and in select theaters, and it does little to dissuade those that have argued passionately that Eli Roth‘s recent Hostel: Part II is indicative of the cultural highway to hell that this country is on. It’s “torture porn,” with flesh in a blender, goosing screams with little (apparent) sense of identification, yadda yadda yadda…
Look, the way these movies are marketed and the stark reality of them are two different things entirely. To me, The Hills Have Eyes and, most of all, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning are much more emblematic of the new stalking cinema of sadism, because they have so much more less to say than Roth’s Hostel flicks. The jury is still out and the book is still open on Captivity, meanwhile. Joffé (The Killing Fields) is a talented director, but he can succumb to laziness, and on the surface this has the scent of a paycheck job, like Boaz Yakin doing Uptown Girls or Wayne Wang doing Last Holiday. Elisha Cuthbert, who I really liked in the underrated The Girl Next Door — and not merely because she was playing a porn star, you hornballs — shows me nothing really special here, but the trailer is selling gore, not nuance. (Meanwhile, I guess armpit fetishists can dig on the above photo.) Uh oh… just noticed that Pruitt Taylor Vince (Heavy, Identity) is in the movie. That can only mean one thing, really. Well… one of two things, each related to one another.
Well, the trailer for I Am Legend, starring Will Smith, has dropped. Releasing from Warner Bros. in December, the third filmed version of the well known Richard Matheson novella (and the first
to actually use its title) has, of course, gone through all sorts of casting changes and production starts and stops over the years, with actors like Arnold Schwarzenegger and directors like Ridley Scott and James Cameron attached to it at various points. Teaming with Smith — who has a penchant for milking the full commercial value out of apocalyptic scenarios — is director Francis Lawrence, who did some good things with the vaguely thematically similar Constantine, starring Keanu Reeves.
The first portion of the trailer is generic end-of-days mayhem, with surging, panicked crowds, explosions and the like. Yawn… It kind of looked like outtakes from War of the Worlds, honestly. The second half, though, hinted at something darker, or at least a bit more interesting. Naturally, Smith’s character is not alone, and some kick-ass action stuff will ensue. But the scope of the “desperate desolation” stuff — including an aerial city shot and Smith knocking golf balls off a skyscraper’s roof, somehow trumping Tom Cruise flailing about in an empty Times Square in Vanilla Sky — was impressive, and made me recall how much I loved reading Stephen King’s The Stand as a kid. Sure, this isn’t going to be Cast Away or anything, but it did make me think how sort of primal a response we have to abandoned human spaces, how that sets off deep-set warning bells that can only be described as innate and animalistic.
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that this movie is going to slay at the box office. Smith pushed The Pursuit of Happyness to a $26 million opening and a $163 million gross last holiday season, and this wheelhouse pairing of bankable star and concept will make I Am Legend the year’s last big action epic, guaranteeing it a theatrical run well into Oscar race season. Again, for the trailer, click here.
It wasn’t too many years ago that the peddlers of reality television
were regarded in Hollywood as a band of gypsy reprobates, gatecrashers
of the industry whose stolen time in the sun surely wouldn’t last long
when stacked up against the quality and tradition of conventional
programming. Six seasons of American Idol later — and after four straight
years of that being the top show on television — how quaint and downright silly
that notion now seems. Reality TV, of course, has spread like a
wildfire, rapaciously and unapologetically gobbling up standard,
scripted fare, and giving viewers both a window into and mirror image
of lives less ordinary.
But there’s another more diagnosable and largely undiscussed trend
bubbling just beneath the surface: namely, the manner in which the conventions and modes of expression of these reality shows — from direct-address “confessionals” to lurking camera angles and ironic framing — are bleeding into scripted entertainment and other Hollywood art forms, from Michael Moore’s incendiary and populist documentaries to hit sitcoms like The Office.
With the release of this past week’s kids’ flick Surf’s Up, another frontier has been crossed. The choice of docu-style in such a mainstream piece of animated fare is
more than an unusual one — it’s downright groundbreaking, basically
staking the movie’s box office odds on the assertion that kids already grasp
this new style of storytelling. For the full feature piece, from FilmStew, click here.
Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer wings into theaters this weekend, and I’ll have more thoughts on the movie soon. In advance of its opening, however — and though busy preparing for a family vacation — writer Don Payne graciously took some time recently to submit to an email interview. To wit:
Brent Simon: So I
know you’ve said that you were a big fan of comics growing up. I read a few
here and there, but then mostly got into books, dime store-type serial
mysteries, etc. What do you think it was about that form that most appealed to
you — the combination of word and image, the fantastical storylines?
Don Payne: I
think it was both. As a kid (and as an adult), there’s just something appealing
about superhero stories and seeing them told in the unique visual medium of
comics. I was particularly drawn to Marvel comics because their characters
seemed very real to me. I suppose it’s because (as has been said many times
before) the Marvel heroes weren’t perfect — they all had human flaws. Spider-Man
was a nerdy high school kid who had trouble with girls, the Fantastic Four were
a dysfunctional family with money problems, Daredevil was blind, the X-Men were
victims of intolerance, etc. Even as a kid, that made the comics all the more
interesting to me.
BS: Was writing a
constant for you as a kid, or were you into entertainment more generally, and
then gravitated to writing later, in high school or college?
DP: I was always
into sci-fi, comics and fantasy, thanks largely to the influence of my older
brother. I made up my own comics and stories as a kid. I also did a lot of
acting and, by the time I got to high school, I was making movies with a Super
8 camera. By the time I got to college, I knew I wanted to work in film, and by
the end of my senior year at UCLA, I knew I wanted to be a screenwriter.
BS: What do you
take as the major themes of Fantastic Four? And with so many comics out there,
why do you think so many people still care so strongly about it?
DP: I think the
strength of family has always been a major theme of the Fantastic Four, and
people can relate to that. As much as they squabble and bicker with one
another, at the end of the day, they really love each other. Any one of them
would sacrifice his or her own live to save the life of any other member of the
team. Another thing that’s unique about the F4 is that they have
no secret identities. Originally, they didn’t even have costumes. They’re
dealing with issues of privacy and celebrity, which other superheroes don’t
have to contend with. I also think the uniquely cosmic, sci-fi elements of the
comic have made them popular as well. And, of course, the popularity of any
dramatic work depends on the appeal of the characters — and all four members of
the team are great characters.
BS: Coming on
board to a sequel must be a somewhat strange feeling. You know you’re wanted,
as it were, because you’ve been selected independent of any carryover loyalty
from the first film, but you also don’t have any of that battle-tested shared
experience of the franchise. So after being hired, describe the process: Did
you meet or talk at all with any of the actors, collectively or individually?
Director Tim Story, Avi Arad and other producers? Or was it more just a matter
of getting on the same page with the studio, and then hunkering down on
something everyone had signed off on?
DP: I did feel
like the new kid on the block when I came on board. Pretty much everyone else on
the project had worked together on the first film. But the people involved were
very welcoming and accepting of new ideas. I had meetings with the studio,
director Tim Story and Marvel producers Avi Arad and Kevin Feige since the very
start of my involvement on the project — actually, even prior to that — so I
knew them all. They had their ideas about what they wanted to see in this film,
I had my ideas, and it was my job to put them all together and make it work. By the way, for the record, the official writing credits on Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer
are, “Story by John Turman and Mark Frost, Screenplay by Don Payne and Mark
Frost.”
BS: The first
film was a $330 million worldwide hit, yet was also rather tepidly received in
some fan-boy corners, and critically as well. To what degree, if any, do you
think studio reaction to the first film helped shape the main narrative choices
of the second movie?
DP: There was a
learning curve with the first film. I think everyone involved in the production
was trying to find the right tone. Now people have a better idea what the
strengths of the franchise are, and I think that’s allowed us to try some new
things in this film. The inclusion of the Silver Surfer shows that they’re
willing to go a little more cosmic than in the first film, which is great.
BS: Not meant as
a loaded question, honestly, but rather as a general query offshoot given your
insider’s point-of-view — in your opinion is there too much studio emphasis
placed on attempted pandering to the Internet-fed, loud (but presumably loyal)
core audiences of adapted works, rather than merely investing in the craft of
storytelling?
DP: I think
everyone involved in a movie wants to tell a good story. I also think it’s difficult
to pander to the “core audience,” because the fan base isn’t some monolithic
entity. It’s made up of individuals who, while they all share a love for the
source material, have many different opinions of how they’d like to see it
executed on the screen. You also need to make a movie that has crossover
appeal, something that’s going to please mainstream audiences as well as the
hardcore fans. On the other hand, if there’s a big consensus on a
particular issue among the fans, you’d better not ignore it. It’s not just
because the fans make up a large part of your audience — they’re also in tune
with what made the material great to begin with. The big things that the fans
love are the reasons that the source material is so popular, and that popularity
is why the movie is getting made in the first place. So you want those big
things to translate to the screen.
BS: Were there
any discussions that you recall about the first movie’s performance overseas,
where it did, I think, slightly more of its overall business?
DP: I think
people realized that the Fantastic Four’s popularity wasn’t just limited to the US audience. I
also think that’s why this film has such a global scope to the action — which
is a great thing, in my opinion. In the comics, the Fantastic Four weren’t
limited to New York, like Spider-Man and other superheroes seemed to be. They went around the world,
across the galaxy, and into the Negative Zone.
BS: In your
opinion, what makes the Silver Surfer such a good villain, a fan favorite?
DP: There are
many, many reasons. First off, he’s not merely a villain — he’s a conflicted
soul, a tortured individual. He’s noble and selfless, having sacrificed himself
to save his home planet and the woman he loved by agreeing to serve Galactus. And
yet, in doing so, he’s also taking part in genocide on a cosmic scale. So
there’s a real complexity and moral ambiguity to his character. And if you’ve
read the comics, you know he’s ultimately not a villain at all, after his sense
of compassion is reawakened. He’s also got the power to manipulate matter and
energy, and he’s a silver guy who rides on a flying surfboard. So that’s pretty
cool.
BS: What was the
hardest part of the overall writing experience? Coming from more of a comedy background, did you find crafting action scenes with the potential for swirling special
effects mind-bogglingly difficult, or was it a sort of cathartic, left-field
release?
DP: I think the
hardest part of the job for any writer is to reconcile the various visions and
ideas of the director, the studio, the producer — sometimes even the actors — with
each other and with your own. It’s a collaborative process, but the writer is
the one who’s got to make it all work in the script. I also had the added pressure of this being a big franchise
film featuring a superhero team which I cared about a great deal. As a fan, you
want it to be something that, if you had no involvement with the movie
whatsoever, you’d come out of the theater thinking you’d just seen something
great. I actually kind of stumbled into a comedy career. I got my
MFA in screenwriting at UCLA and wrote a lot of non-comedy scripts while I was
in school. I only wound up in comedy because that was the first break I got in
the business. I’d written genre stuff before, so I always loved writing big
action/special effects sequences. And, of course, I think if you spend years
reading the visual medium of comic books, you get a good background for writing
action sequences.
BS: So here’s a
fun one. When you’re laboring on a script like this one, where secrecy matters and
what not, and pesky reporters and writers (like me last year) are all angling
for some minute scoop (be it about character, content, cameos, design or tone), do you have to sign a lengthy and detailed non-disclosure confidentiality
agreement, or does Rupert Murdoch simply appear via teleconference, mutter “We
know where you live,” and shoot you a stern stare while casually burning stacks
of $100 bills? That is to say, I know you and many other folks take the (quite
reasonable) blanket position of not talking about anything, but do studios like
to explicitly spell out what they don’t want discussed?
DP: No one has
ever come to me and said, “You can’t talk about this.” But some things are just
common sense. You don’t want to spoil the details of a movie you’re working on.
You want it to be experienced in the way that movies are supposed to be
experienced — in the theater when it’s finished.
BS: I received some
reader-submitted questions, a lot of which centered on the movie’s PG rating,
so a couple queries there: was that rating part of a studio mandate, based on
discussions and/or some sort of research tied to the first film’s performance,
or was it a little more vague than that, meaning a borderline call that the
MPAA just happened to find not deserving of a stricter rating?
DP: I have no
idea why it got a PG rating. There was never any mandate that I ever heard of
to limit or modify content to get either a PG or PG-13 rating — certainly not
in the writing process. There are some pretty intense action sequences in
there, more intense than in the first film, so I was a little surprised by the
rating, to be honest. The bottom line to me, though, is whether a movie is good
or bad, not what its rating is. To tell you the truth, I think some of the hullabaloo I’ve
seen online about the rating brings up an interesting issue. A lot of the comic
book purists — the ones who would like to see as literal a translation of the
great Stan Lee/Jack Kirby works onscreen as possible — are the same ones who
are worried about the film’s PG rating being a negative. But the comic book
stories as written by Stan and Jack never included anything that would have
been the equivalent of a PG-13 rating. They were written to include a young
readership. It’s more in keeping with the spirit of Stan and Jack not to forget
that audience. And I’m not talking about dumbing anything down for kids, but
making a movie that can include them and spur their imagination and sense of
wonder — like the comics did for me and for so many other fans out there. And,
hopefully, the movie will introduce a new generation of kids to the comics as
well.
BS: Another
reader expressed appreciation about the character of Silver Surfer making his
way to the screen, but wanted to ask about the message board speculation of Galactus
being teased as a cloud/vortex, and not being true to the comics’ form everyone
knows Galactus as. Your thoughts/comments?
DP: I can’t talk
about Galactus in detail, but I will say this. Whatever his onscreen
manifestation is, it doesn’t preclude any form he might take on in any future
film. Galactus is a being who wields virtually limitless, godlike power over
matter and energy. I think he could assume any manifestation he so chooses.
BS: Finally, how
much on-set writing work (or, conversely, slack-jawed, good-time loafing) did Rise of the Silver Surfer entail versus
your feature writing debut, My Super
Ex-Girlfriend?
DP: On both
projects, my time on the set was severely limited because of my full-time job at The Simpsons. (I’m now a consulting
producer on the show. I only go in two days a week, which frees up a lot more
time for me to do feature work and to actually see my family.) On Super Ex, I was able to get out to the
set New York for about three
weeks during production. The director, Ivan Reitman, thought I’d be bored, but
it was my first experience on a movie set, so every minute was fascinating to
me. For Rise of the Silver
Surfer, I went up to Vancouver
for a couple weeks to do some rewriting shortly before the start of production.
It was a great experience seeing this amazing production apparatus gearing up
to make the film. After production started, I kept in touch via e-mail with
director Tim Story on the set. He would send me requests for little fixes or
alternate lines of dialogue when he needed them, and I would turn them around
pretty quickly.
BS: And hey, any
involvement on The Simpsons Movie at
all?
DP: None. But I know
all the guys who wrote it, and I think it’s going to be great. I just hope I
can score a free ticket.
Rialto Theatre is located in the heart of South
Pasadena. Built in 1925, and sporting a unique blend
of Spanish Baroque and Egyptian stylings, the Rialto
was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1978, and has been
featured in many films and commercials, most notably Robert Altman’s The Player. Ticket prices for the midnight shows are $8.75. For more information, phone (626) 444-FILM, or click here.
Like many, my introduction to reggae music came in the form
of Bob Marley’s Legend album, of
course, and then a high school friend who peddled a much deeper discography of
the genre. I grew to really dig the music, if not always the personal hygiene
habits of those who most embraced it. Still, in the early 1990s, I must confess
I wasn’t really aware of Apache Indian, one of Great
Britain’s most eclectic and electric reggae
performers. At the time I was more into singer-songwriters of a certain stripe,
as well as straight rock ’n’ roll; for a full 18 months or so I was rightfully
under the sway of U2’s Achtung Baby,
my mind completely blown. Then Dr. Dre’s The
Chronic blew up, fusing gangsta rap with catchy neo-funk.
Through embracing his East Indian heritage and its emphasis
on traditions, Apache Indian developed a unique brand of music heavily
influenced by the bhangra style. The emergence of his cross-cultural fusion
sound brought new fans into the reggae fold, and this concert disc from 2006 —
along with The Reggae Revolution, lauded backing band for Sting, Pato Banton, Gregory
Isaacs, Musical Youth, Half Pint and more — celebrates Apache Indian’s canon in
fine fashion.
Recorded on October 21 at the Musicport World Music Festival
in Whitby, North
Yorkshire, Time for Change
Tour runs just over an hour, and finds the charismatic Apache running
through a solid set of call-to-arms grooves against the backdrop of a simple, primary color lighting design. “Tere Toor” kicks things off,
followed by the trumpet-inflected, Hare Krishna-touting “Don Rajah,” a real
up-tempo crowd-pleaser. Next up are “Movie Over India” and “Chok There,” followed
by new tune “Everyday,” which manages to flog a nice melody over some well-worn
traditional lyrics. “Shackle & Chain” slows things down, bleeding into “No
War” and “Om Numah Shivaya.” A two-and-a-half-minute dholo percussion freestyle
summons up amusing recollections of Venice Beach drum circles before giving way
to “Hey Baba,” “Arranged Marriage,” “Ragamuffin Girl” and “Israelites.” There
are “way-o!” shout-outs and calls for rah-speck aplenty, and the band is great,
with guitarist Vince Mills, saxophonist James Renford and keyboardist Mikey
Nanton all superbly aiding Apache’s gifted flow.
Housed in a regular Amray case and presented on a
region-free disc, this DVD comes with a PCM two-channel stereo track and a
Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound track. The former is vastly superior to the
latter; it seems mixed higher and it covers a higher register too. The picture
is fairly clear, and the direction — while full of some kinetic cuts to match
the call-and-resposne of the music — doesn’t overwhelm the material. There are
no supplemental features on the disc, alas. B+ (Concert) C (Disc)
It’s a happy birthday to ultra-leggy Brazilian supermodel Adriana Lima, who turns 26 today, all 5’10” of her, supposedly with her virginity still intact. Oh Adriana, if only you graduated from lingerie model to actress, so that I might justify this post and picture of you. Wait a second! You have?!
Oh, I’m sorry, you have one credit as such. But it’s a Wong Kar Wai film, penned by Andrew Kevin Walker and starring Clive Owen! Oh wait… it’s only The Follow, an eight-minute short that was part of that BMW Films series from a few years back… the stuff that fed rumors of Owen being cast as the next James Bond, right after Croupier had blown up in the States. Umm… what were we talking about? Oh, right, Adriana Lima… seriously, act more Adriana, likeEstella Warren. Then maybe I can post pictures of you more than once a year.
Not an irritation in the strictest definition, but certainly from the “bad idea” files comes word that the idiot-stuntman comedy Hot Rod, Andy Samberg’s introduction to the film world after a quick ascension up the ranks of Saturday Night Live as the latest self-effacing goofball in the Adam Sandler/Jimmy Fallon mold, has a running time of 120 minutes. This per the Los Angeles Film Festival’s web site, which hosts a special outdoor screening of the movie at the John Anson Ford Amphitheatre on Thursday, June 28.
Comedy isn’t always brevity — Knocked Up comes in at just over two hours, and 2005’s Wedding Crashers was fine at about six or seven minutes short of that mark — but for a broad, putatively mainstream leading man debut, this reeks of runaway myopia. Get in, get out, and leave audiences wanting more, Samberg. Hot Rod‘s trailer already seemed to tell the movie’s entire story (and then some), and unless there’s some subtlety and/or labyrinthine reversals I’m missing in footage of Ian McShane and Samberg wrestling in the dirt and talking about mustaches, this is a bad idea.
UPDATE 6/12, 10:05 a.m.: According to an email from Paramount, the running time has yet to be finalized. Stay tuned…
UPDATE 7/13: Good news, of a sort — Hot Rod‘s final commercial release running time is in the ballpark of 87 minutes or so, definitely under 90 minutes, even with credits.
At the recent press day for Evan Almighty in Los Angeles this past weekend, Wanda Sykes was asked her thoughts about Paris Hilton, and the famously tart-tongued comedienne let loose in memorable fashion. “I’m losing sleep! Is she in jail today, or is she at home — oh, what’s goin’ on with Paris? It’s just so ridiculous how famous she is for absolutely nothing,” laments Sykes. “I mean, she is such a non-celebrity, but again, people are camped out in front of her house and want to see if she goes to jail. I mean, she’s rich, and she’s screwing up just being rich, you know? That’s pretty sad, when you fuck up rich. You’ve got to be the biggest idiot in the world if you can’t just sit your ass down for a minute and be rich.”
Here Sykes pauses for a laugh, and shakes her head. “If I was a Hilton, I would’ve been premature,” she continues. “I would’ve shot out of the womb early, as soon as I found out: ‘Wait a minute, I’m rich?! I’m outta here! Let me get my life started!’ I just think it’s ridiculous, the whole thing.”
It’s with great admiration and a tip of the hat to its
marketers that I note Primeval
arrived in theaters earlier this year without me actually knowing it was in
fact about a killer crocodile.
Its distributor, Touchstone, you see, sold the movie as a sort of serial killer
safari tale set in a faraway land — all quick cuts, splashed water and ominous
narration. It was a ploy that probably worked out OK, all things considered.
Opening in just over 2,400 theaters the second weekend in January, the movie rang
up $6 million on its way to $10.5 million overall; not at all a big hit, certainly,
but brutal honesty likely wouldn’t have netted Primeval any more lucre. Now with the proper word out, however, the
movie will find its more natural niche audience on DVD… which is to say adolescent-skewing
fans of creature-feature schlock.
Based on the true tales of an African killer crocodile, Primeval follows the African adventures
of disgraced TV reporter Tim Manfrey, played by Dominic Purcell (Prison Break),
who treks to the Dark Continent with hopes of launching a career comeback on
the strength of a story about a 20-foot beast, nicknamed Gustave, with more
than 300 human kills on his resume. It seems a nice investigation on a corrupt
Congressman or pedophilic priest wouldn’t really do the trick, I guess.
The film’s croc is CGI, but Purcell gets up close and personal with an
intriguingly blended human cast, including Orlando Jones (above) as his wiseacre
cameraman Steven Johnson and Brooke Langton as Aviva Masters, a local tour guide and fellow newsie. (Jurgen Prochnow also
costars, for those looking for a connection between this movie and Das Boot.) Unfortunately the characters
are pretty thinly sketched, and director Michael Katleman, a television helmer
making his feature film debut, doesn’t have the means to pull off huge set pieces. The digital rendering of his “villain” isn’t the best, so he tries to go the cloaked-in-shadow
route, which becomes an exercise in both obviousness and tedium. The aforementioned leading players wring some interesting moments out of their interplay (Jones is always fun to watch), but otherwise Gustave has
only really three big moments in the sun — including one quite literally. The rest of co-writers
John Brancato and Michael Ferris’ material, though, including a local warlord angle, seems
nakedly like what it chiefly is, namely arbitrary padding.
Packaged in an Amray case in turn stored in a cardboard slipcover
with raised effect, Primeval’s DVD release
is packed with some nice bonus features, many of which include puns! Leading
that hit parade is a 10-minute making-of piece, Croc-umentary: Bringing Gustave to Life, which delves into
the computer rendering of its slithery killer. There are also three deleted scenes with
overlaid commentary by Katleman, and a feature-length audio commentary track with
Katleman and visual effects supervisor Paul Linden. Presented in 2.35:1
anamorphic widescreen that preserves the aspect ration of its original
theatrical exhibition, the movie comes with a solidly mixed Dolby digital 5.1 surround
sound audio track — full of naturalistic ambient noise — and optional Spanish, French
and English subtitles. D (Movie) B- (Disc)
I realize this sounds pissy and irredeemably minor, but I’m kind of irked by obviously Photoshopped images, both on film posters and in other matters of promotion. I know the practice isn’t at all uncommon; the forthcoming Underdog kids movie features a deftly manipulated poster, and I was sent an eye-gougingly bad wall calendar replete with more of the same. I even (knowingly) used a studio-doctored picture in a review of Click, an image in which Kate Beckinsale was stuffed into frame alongside Adam Sandler, giving her character the momentary appearance of having something to do in the movie.
The most recent Photoshop job comes courtesy of Evan Almighty‘s press kit (above), which, in its corner, crams in a view of its Washington, D.C. setting that is not quite wholly impossible, but doesn’t jibe with the movie’s third act. I’ll get into this more in the coming days, but it says a lot — in its own subtle, sad way — that the studio feels not one, not two, but three images are needed to reinforce the setting to… whom, exactly? Professional writers and reviewers? (I don’t believe this image appears in posters for the movie as well, but maybe it does.) So we get Congress, the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial… what, the Jefferson Memorial couldn’t be worked in as well? I guess I have to bite my tongue and give proper credit, though — at least they didn’t reverse the image of the Lincoln Memorial, and have it facing the wrong way.
In the dry, new Mob-informed comedy You Kill Me, her character, tart-tongued advertising saleswoman Laurel, pulls a knife on a guy to aid her unlikely new beau, alcoholic hitman Frank Falenczyk (Ben Kingsley), so what’s the craziest thing that Téa Leoni has done for love?
“I would have to say sex in a sauna is one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done,” reflects Leoni with a slightly canted head, “but David (Duchovny, her husband) and I were in the throes of our newfound passion. And… don’t do that. Dry heat, air, need air, quick, get air, vomit… horrible,” she says, shaking her head. “It was terrible, [except] for the first four minutes, maybe. After that it was… no. I felt ill for about eight hours afterwards, I was completely dehydrated. And then, it’s not like you have cushions in there…”
While other stars gate-crash rehabprior to their 21st birthday, it’s a toast of legal libation to Shia LaBeouf, who’s already notched a big hit with this spring’s Disturbia, gets his voiceover ya-yas out with the above-average animated surfing-penguin flick Surf’s Up, and still has some intimate indie chamber drama called Transformers waiting in the wings later this summer. Good times, kid…
It’s looking like Ocean’s Thirteen is this week’s big box office champion, a win for blithe, finger-snapping spryness in general, and a vindication of the PG-13 rating’s broad appeal, especially when stacked up against the PG-rated Surf’s Up and the hard R rating of Hostel: Part II. Pending final numbers and adjustments, Ocean’s Thirteen will reportedly pull in around $37 million for the weekend. Polling second is Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End, which has to date now grossed over $250 million, with another $21 million or so this weekend. Last week’s top debut, Knocked Up, is only down 34 percent or so, ringing up another $20 million. Surf’s Up scored a robust $18 million bow, good for fourth place. The summer playing field proved less kind to Hostel: Part II, meanwhile. Playing in 2,350 theaters, the film averaged around $3,700 per screen, and should pull in around $8.8 million for the three-day frame, which is only slightly more than a then less-known Eli Roth‘s 2003 film Cabin Fever. Last year, in January, the first Hostel opened to $19.5 million on slightly less screens. A sign of the horror genre’s loosening grip? Perhaps, but more likely an indication that seasonal slotting matters quite a bit for certain pictures.
His latest film, Mr. Brooks, is both a serial killer tale and an outlandish mash-up of unlikely thriller elements — a movie, in fact, that Kevin Costner admits he would have had quite a different reaction to if he hadn’t sat down to read the entire script through on his own. So what does Costner look for in a screenplay or project?
“Just fresh air, something that seems highly
original,” he says, from a recent press day in advance of his movie’s release. “I would never have done this movie if it was pitched to me. But I would have
never done Field of Dreams
if it was pitched to me [either]. It takes a writer that really has his muse working on
his shoulder, you know? And you just go, ‘Wow.’ It was just an incredible
window that they found into this subject, I thought. And Thirteen Days, for
instance… it was also great. The window into that story was through Kenny O’Donnell — not Jack’s point of view or Bobby’s point of view, you know? It’s hard,
writing. That’s why it’s hard to write. It’s not easy. It’s an art form.”
That’s one of the reasons that Costner doesn’t view himself as a typical writer. “I don’t think I’m a great writer. But I like to think I recognize a good idea,” he says. “But unlike conventional wisdom, I don’t go out and make a
movie when a script is 60 percent [ready], just because I got the actor now and the director,
and I think the job’s done. I’m anal. I don’t even go out to actors till my
script is 100 percent done, because I don’t want anybody changing it. Annette Bening
and Robert Duvall didn’t change a line on Open Range. Why? Because I was sure that it worked. And [in Mr. Brooks] we
didn’t change any lines, William Hurt and Dane Cook and I, in our half of the
movie. Not a line. Because I was positive it worked, you know?”
Casting About, billed as both an
, but it’s Murray’s blithe banter (“Oh, you must<br />
be the short, depressed kid we ordered…”) that keeps things for the most part airy<br />
and amusing. The movie’s only other real storyline of significance finds<br />
Tripper mentoring little Rudy (Chris Makepeace, sporting a crazy rug that makes<br />
him look like a pint-sized Michael Penn), a lonely kid from a single-parent<br />
household who feels like an outcast and can’t find his niche at North Star.</p>
<p class=)
Rialto Theatre is located in the heart of 
