In 2002, The Bourne Identity drew a large part of its pop and verve from the attached-at-the-hip nature of its conceit and action — as Matt Damon’s overwhelmed, memory-impaired CIA operative Jason Bourne experienced the action in bewildering fashion, so too did the film’s audience. With elements of his personal identity uncovered, the sequels have each in their own way extended Bourne’s search for professional closure. To his former employers, however, Bourne is the loosest of loose ends, and so they’re still looking to tie him off.
The Bourne Ultimatum, then, serves as an involving and fitting bookend to Damon’s character-powered spy thriller series, paying off in a thrilling manner his amnesiac assassin’s search to uncover the roots of his identity while also delivering plenty of slam-bang, real-world action set across a sprawling variety of locations. The film opens at a dead sprint, and doesn’t much slow down; even its quiet, contemplative moments have a sense of unease and their own careening forward momentum.
Anchoring the movie in resolute fashion, Damon delivers another intense performance, absorbing information at a high rate of speed and translating that into both rapid analysis and breathless deed. The combination of massive raw intelligence and swallowed grief and self-torture that inform Bourne is captured as much in Damon’s clenched jaw and hard-set eyes as any dialogue (after all, who is left for Bourne to really open up to?), and he feels every bit the chariot driver here.
The film’s narrative proper is very contemporary in its subject matter — a covert intelligence program targeting, and in some cases eliminating, American citizens — but returning director Paul Greengrass (United 93) keeps the focus quite tightly personal. He does this by staging large swathes of The Bourne Ultimatum in crowded public places, settings where Bourne is palpably uncomfortable, and forced to constantly react and improvise.
As always, too, Greengrass trades in small details that mightily inform character, and thus help elevate The Bourne Ultimatum above and beyond its genre roots. In a game of high-stakes cat-and-mouse at a packed Waterloo Station in London, a single quick glance conveys that Bourne knows the angle of a gunshot that has felled a bystander; later, after a ferocious close-range action sequence, the director indulges Bourne a moment of quiet, broken shame over the fact that he’s been forced to kill again. For the full, original review, from Screen International, click here. (Universal, PG-13, 111 minutes)
Daily Archives: July 30, 2007
The Simpsons Tops Box Office
Proving its pan-generational appeal, The Simpsons Movie scored the third-highest opening weekend ever for an animated film, pulling in just under $72 million at 3,922 theaters, ranking behind
only the last two Shrek installments. Needless to say, that was good for the top spot at the box office this past weekend. Last week’s two big debuts, I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry (notable only, it must be stressed, for Jessica Biel prancing about in her bra and underwear), and the buoyant musical Hairspray, fell to second and fourth place, respectively, ringing up $19.1 and $15.6 million.
Rounding out the top five were Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, which tallied just over $17 million, and new release No Reservations, starring Catherine Zeta-Jones and Aaron Eckhart, which grossed $11.7 million. Fellow new release I Know Who Killed Me, meanwhile, fell on its sword of bad publicity swirling around star Lindsay Lohan; a late scratch in some rural areas, the movie opened in just over 1,300 theaters, and grossed only $3.4 million.
Among niche pics, Michael Moore’s Sicko — a look at the sorry state of health care in America, and its for-profit manipulation at the hands of corporations — stands on the verge of becoming
the fourth highest grossing documentary of all time, eclipsing the
$21.5 million grossed by Moore’s own Bowling for Columbine.
Twin Peaks DVD Set News
de Lauzirika spoke for about seven minutes (audio of the chat can be accessed here, though without the benefit of a direct mic it’s a bit dodgy in spots), and says that CBS enjoys a great relationship with filmmaker David Lynch, and that they “got away with murder” with respect to the amount of material being included in the set.
To wit: in addition to all the episodes from each season of the show, this collection will (finally) feature both the European and American versions of the
show’s pilot (the former featuring a closed narrative loop, so it could be released as a feature), deleted scenes from both seasons, and loads of other extras, including a feature-length
documentary called Secrets from Another Place.
UPDATE 8/03: A release date through Paramount, which handles the bulk of CBS’ television properties, is confirmed for October 30.
On Scripting Harry Potter
No Harry Potter expert, I, but Dylan Callaghan has a nice, short and very to-the-point interview with the writer of the fifth film, Michael Goldenberg, on the Writers Guild of America site. Regardless what one thinks of the movie — and the book is said to be somewhat unwieldy in its adaptability, perhaps a smartly chosen break for scripter Steve Kloves — I think Goldenberg’s comments about organic restrictions is a smart one, and one that obviously informs The Order of the Phoenix.
Happy Birthday, Hilary Swank
It’s a happy birthday today to Hilary Swank, I guess, who turns 33 and celebrates the same way all sensible girls I know do — by not having sex with Chad Lowe. If anything is clear at this point in her career, it’s that Swank doesn’t really have a box office following of any sort of consequence (the above-average Freedom Writers pulled in only $36 million earlier this year, and The Reaping, though possessing the advantage of topicality, grossed only $25 domestically).
Still, Swank has done a pretty good job of just keeping her head down and cranking out respectable contemporary dramas (her oil-and-water relationship with period piece drama was confirmed with The Affair of the Necklace), character ensembles and the like. If she does this for another five or six years, folks might just come around to respect her as the authentic face and voice of her generation. Not saying that’s what she is, or that she’s there yet, but with two Oscar notches already on her belt, it can be achieved, because in addition to a few plumb supporting roles she can simply take middle-of-the-road genre product and try to give it some uplift, instead of having to swing for the fences.
All of this will further enrage my sister, who’s praying for a fall from grace and return to obscurity for Swank since strangers insist she looks like her (“you know, in the face,” one helpfully explained). Sorry, Erica. Odds are…
’60s Rock ‘n’ Roll Jukebox
America
does nostalgia quite well, and the emergence of new technologies allows us to
continue to perpetuate this unrelenting packaging of yesteryear. Presenting
eight cherry-picked acts each jamming through two tunes, the concert
compilation ’60s Rock ’n’ Roll Jukebox
does a good job of that, even if its material is somewhat uneven.
awkward crowd dancing mark this title a kitsch delight of sorts. Erstwhile teen
heartthrob Bryan Hyland kicks things off — he of the chart-toppers “Sealed with
a Kiss” and “Itsy Bitsy,” that rather cloying tune currently getting some
commercial run pegged to that yogurt ad about the girl who works up the courage
to finally sport her bikini at the beach. Del Shannon follows, working through
the utterly pedestrian “Hats Off to Larry” before more or less still
approximating the high notes of the solid bop ditty “Runaway,” which also
features a wicked synth keyboard pattern.
Davis — whose top 10 hit “Gimme Some Lovin’” helped bring British rock to the
rest of the world — plays that tune and “Keep on Runnin’,” while ex-Byrd Roger McGuinn
offers forth lilting versions of “Mr. Tambourine Man” and “Turn Turn Turn,”
which the audience doesn’t really seem to recognize until about halfway through
its first choral pass.
rock ’n’ roll generation, grabs a stool to massacre “Old Time Rock ’N’ Roll”
and “Shake Rattle & Roll” in sweaty, obese fashion, while the goofily
earnest John Sebastian reveals himself a one-trick pony with the very
similar-sounding “What a Day For a…” and “Welcome Back Kotter” (yes, the TV theme
for the show of the same name). Rounding out the disc are Johnny Tillotson
— who charted 26 hits between 1958 and ’65, and here plays “Dreamy Eyes” and “Poetry
in Motion” — and Ray Peterson, who contributes “Goodnight My Love” and the
maudlin “Tell Laura I Love Her.”
region-free disc. Its soundtrack is pretty solid, though definitely not given
to a lot of rear channel differential. There are some nice, quite extended
text bios for most of the acts (Spencer Davis also plugs his own web site), but
this title runs only 38 minutes, despite the hour-long running time advertised
on its back cover. Additionally, a few of the numbers end abruptly, giving off a very
choppy, unprofessional vibe.
On Iron Man’s Photo
Zathura, I think that’s most of it; I’m really interested to see where he goes as a director. With this picture, surely Robert Downey, Jr. had to be having some Natural Born Killers flashbacks, though…
Dr. Ravi & Mr. Hyde
Dr. Ravi & Mr.
Hyde is a comedy about a doctor who goes to film school to make a film about
being a doctor. It’s produced, written and directed by and starring Dr. Ravi
Godse, who plays himself, or at least an approximation thereof. Even the thick,
vanity-project scent which that description gives off, though, doesn’t fully do
justice to the eye-gouging amateurishness on display herein.
The movie opens with a sing-songy tune set under the lyrics,
“Movie/I wanna make a movie/A groovy movie/It’s the dream of my life…” Seriously.
It then segues into a halting, accented introduction from Godse (above center), who sets the
scene, and describes, without a hint of irony, “sleeping comfortably in the
arms of the one I loved.” We then cut to Godse sleeping in a queen-sized bed, a
good four to five feet apart from his wife (Olga Segall), who is also a doctor.
Incongruities like these (Godse is Indian, Segall appears Latino, and the pair’s
young son is white) are a hallmark of this production, whose first 20 minutes or
so will have you wanting to slam your head against a nearby table or book, if
only to numb the pain of what’s unfolding. A funny thing then happens, though.
The movie doesn’t so much necessarily become good as become just slightly more competent. The urge to do harm to
yourself through consuming massive quantities of ice cream slowly passes.
you could say it’s loosely inspired by something like Woody Allen’s Melinda and Melinda, with a pinch of Living in Oblivion and mistaken
indentity mob caper thrown in for good measure. Like many men his age, Dr. Ravi
finds himself halfway through his life having not yet achieved the greatness he
anticipated. He is rich (as he tells us many times), but is sick of being
constantly on-call, and being accosted on the street by the flower guy for a
Viagra prescription. Sure, he could buy a sports car or have an affair with a young
babe to help him through his midlife crisis, but Dr. Ravi yearns for more. His
search for personal fulfillment takes him from the halls of a hospital to what he
believes is his true calling — directing and producing a true “timeless classic”
motion picture, a movie that just so happens to be an adaptation of a novel he’s
relatively recently self-published. (What inspired him to pen that is a mystery
hopefully left unexplored in an imaginary prequel.)
agents, reluctant colleagues, an unenthusiastic wife and even the mafia. From
the streets of
sun-swept shores of
Dr. Ravi’s search takes him near and far, and eventually brings him to the
realization that it’s not important what he does or how well he does it, as long
as he just does something.
bandied about in his home, but Godse, whose novel was apparently a Top 5
bestseller in India, is an awful actor, and though the film’s ensemble cast features
American Radio Hall of Fame inductee Myron Cope as well as Emmy-winning TV
personality Dave Crawley, for the most part this is strictly amateur hour. There
are multiple incidences of an actor looking at the camera, or visibly toeing
their cue, and the ADR is at times atrocious, recalling the scene in Grindhouse
where Tarantino’s squirrelly bartender in the Death Proof segment is purposefully looped from off-camera.
bad, all things considered. And where Godse scores is in some of the movie’s sardonic
asides and ping-pong dialogue exchanges, like when Dr. Ravi’s book agent advises
him to drum up controversy to help his movie’s chances at getting off the
ground, and offers his help thusly: “I have contacts in the Indian government —
I can get it banned.” The problem, though, is that the story is extremely
indulgent and just not very inviting. Tone is a big problem; one minute you’re
supposed to be taking things seriously, but that’s hard to mesh with a harridan
wife and buffoonish film school colleagues.
stops and a gallery of trailers for other films, but no other bonus materials —
surprising for a film made with such personal gusto. Or who knows… maybe there’s
a feature-length documentary on its making just around the bend. To order the movie via Amazon, click here; to order the movie via Half.com, click here. D- (Movie) D (Disc)
This Ain’t Your Mom’s Hardcore Vol. 2
Word of advice: when you have a stack of DVDs sitting
around, slated for review, and the spine of one of them, in large pink text on
a black background, reads This Ain’t Your
Mom’s Hardcore Vol. 2, it’s not unreasonable to assume that your girlfriend’s
eye might be drawn to it, and think it’s porn.
 No, <b><i style=)
This Ain’t Your Mom’s Hardcore is a punk/aggro
compilation disc, and a suitably eye-opening and tympanic membrane-annihilating
one at that. Featuring almost two dozen bands and almost 150 minutes of video, the
disc spotlights 28 ferocious live performances by artists such as Maylene and
the Sons of Disaster, Bury Your Dead, Destroy the Runner, Misery Signals,
Secret Lives of the Freemasons, The Chariot, Haste the Day and As Cities Burn. (Incidentally,
this reminds me of the time a friend and I spent an entire chemistry class
period sitting around thinking up band names for another mutual friend, and
while I’m unable to remember them all, it’s safe to say that a little more
brainstorming should have likely gone into some of these handles.)
area, these packed shows, filmed from every angle, serve as a loud, loud reminder why
nothing quite compares to a live rock concert. While the material itself is
quite uneven, and in fact generally ranging on the downside of average, the video footage
itself is filled with incredible breakdowns, sonic blasts and energy; the variety, in both
venues and stagecraft, is something to be admired, if only barely through the din. Among the more memorable
acts are Grace Gale, August Burns Red, Classic
Case and Thumbscrew. I also really like the
name Twelve Gauge Valentine, but am unfortunately unable to give their music a
thumbs up. Fleshing out the live sets are some music videos and interviews,
though the regional, super-niche appeal of some of these acts renders those
bits for the most part irrelevant.
disc, with a solid Dolby digital stereo audio track that captures the
hard-charging aural demands of these thrash-and-burn acts. Not for all tastes,
definitely, but the sheer volume has to be appreciated on a certain level I suppose, especially at a time when so
many concert discs try to fallaciously inflate or pad out their running times. C- (Concerts) C+ (DVD)