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 AFFLICTION. Writer/director Paul Schrader became a legend
for his extremely quotable script for Taxi Driver. His
work since then has been uneven, and, when left to his own devices,
he tends to create overly ponderous and pretentious films like
Cat People and Light Sleeper. It's not that those
were bad films, it's just that they should have been better. Affliction
is in this same category. It has a half-dozen plots, none of which
are deeply explored or well-resolved. On the other hand, Nick
Nolte, James Coburn, Sissy Spacek and Willem Dafoe all turn in
compelling performances. It's a claustrophobic, human film about
the emotional breakdown of a small-town, New Hampshire police
officer, but it's deeply unsatisfying on the level of story and
script. While it's nice to see that more films without aliens
or dinosaurs are being made, it's also nice that there are better
choices in that realm than this slightly-above-average effort.
--DiGiovanna
BLAST FROM THE PAST. It's October 1962, and the Webbers
(Christopher Walken and Sissy Spacek) think a nuclear war has
started. Just as they enter their bomb shelter, Mrs. Webber gives
birth to a boy. Oddly enough, 35 years later that boy has become
Brendan Fraser, who really doesn't even look old enough to be
Brendan Fraser's age (30). So he rises to the surface world where
he is mistaken for the son of God. Now, Fraser is cute, really
cute, but not quite Jesus cute, so at this point the movie starts
to strain its credibility. Nonetheless, he bumbles about with
the help of Alicia Silverstone (remember her from those Aerosmith
videos?), learning about all the zany stuff that's happened since
the Kennedy administration, like cheap sex and Internet porn.
Then more craziness ensues. Because it's a comedy. --DiGiovanna
CENTRAL STATION. Rarely will you see an actress in her
late 60s star opposite a young boy, but that's exactly the odd
couple that drives this thought-provoking Brazilian film. Dora,
a retired schoolteacher, teams up with Josué, a recent
orphan, to try to find the boy's natural father. Their journey
takes place largely on a bus ride, where they lose all of their
money chasing after Josué's ideal of his parent. The ordinariness
of these characters and how they handle their crises is compelling
and well told through visual details such as drab clothing and
bleak surroundings, and narratively via slow pacing and an overall
lack of drama. If you're up for a chuckle, save Central Station
for another day; it's a slice-of-life tale that's best enjoyed
when you have the patience and energy to sympathize with imperfect
yet resonant characters who struggle within modest destinies.--Higgins
IN DREAMS. It may be kind of early in the year to commit,
but my nomination for the best filmic wig of 1999 goes to the
one atop Robert Downey Jr.'s scalp. Sure, some will say it's bad,
even evil, but I cheer you on, brave little soldier. When Vivian
(Downey) wears this ambitious rug, it makes him want to rid us
of bad child actors and, more importantly, expose the false ideal
of the bourgeois family. Vivian enters career mom Claire's (Annette
Bening) head via her dreams and updates her on his latest murderous
adventures. Feeling her class status threatened, Claire attempts
to track him down so she can destroy his revolutionary thinking
and quit wearing the Communist reds he clothes her in in her nightmares.
It's nice to see an arty horror film, but it usually helps to
have more sympathy for the protagonist than the antagonist's wig.
This latest effort from Neil Jordan (The Crying Game) is
at the very least beautiful to watch. --Higgins
LITTLE VOICE. Jane Horrocks, probably best known for her
role as Bubbles on Absolutely Fabulous, stars in the filmic
version of The Rise and Fall of Little Voice, a play written
to showcase her talent for imitating the singing voices of such
greats as Judy Garland and Shirley Bassey. The character "Little
Voice" is a soft-spoken, pastel-wearing introvert who's overshadowed
by her tawdry mum Mari (Brenda Blethyn), who shouts some of the
best dialog (such as referring to her lover's genitalia as "meat
and veg") and wears similarly boisterous outfits. Ray (Michael
Caine), Mari's man and a promoter for such class acts as the chubby
male strip crew "Take Fat," discovers her musical abilities
and attempts to exploit them in a sleazy nightclub. Little Voice
resists, supported only by her father's ghost and a pigeon-obsessed
telephone repairman (Ewan MacGregor). This simple and satisfying
story about discovering the importance of being heard is affectionately
directed by Mark Herman, and offers a host of excellent performances.--Higgins
MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE. The whole time I was watching How
Stella Got Her Groove Back, I kept wondering what the film
would be like if Stella were actually a squishy, bland middle-aged
white guy being stalked by someone half his age rather than a
buff, in-her-prime black woman pursuing a younger man. Well, here's
the two-plus-hours-long answer. It would be like watching a Candida
Royale porn film: painfully slow paced, enveloped in soft lighting,
and with the overwhelming presence of every woman's worst nightmare--the
self-proclaimed Sensitive Male. Kevin Costner plays the monster
in question, a widower named Garret who wrote some messages to
his dead wife and then put them in bottles. The much younger Theresa
(Robin Wright Penn), a researcher for the Chicago Tribune,
finds one of his letters on a slow news day and locates him in
a small town in North Carolina. She teaches him how to love again,
and, unfortunately for us, Garret likes the slow jams and subjects
us to an embarrassingly stupid sex scene. Paul Newman gives a
good show as Garret's grumpy father, and Illeana Douglas is ever-charming,
if wasted in her usual wacky sidekick role. Aside from them, it's
one drawn-out, wish-Fabio-were-here scene after the next. Take
your hankies, ladies, because you'll need something to wipe up
the mess after this pukefest. --Higgins
MY FAVORITE MARTIAN. A creepy, sexist comedy that portrays
women as either pathetic or evil, but always in favor of unsolicited
sexual advances. Christopher Lloyd (Reverend Jim from the TV series
Taxi) plays a Martian who comes to Earth, beats up TV reporter
Jeff Daniels, then becomes his best friend and helps him sort
out his romantic confusion. The half dozen companies that paid
for some of the most obvious product placement I've ever seen
in this comedy-without-laughs should ask for their money back.
--DiGiovanna
OCTOBER SKY. Here's a film about teens that doesn't have
aliens, a serial killer, or even a prom queen election. (I know,
I found it hard to relate to, too.) It tells the true story of
Homer Hickam (Jake Gyllenhaal) and his high school friends who
strive to avert their coal-mining destinies. By experimenting
with rocketry, they hope to win a science fair and solicit college
scholarships. Most of the adults don't understand their struggle
to leave the small town, especially Homer's black-lunged father
(Chris Cooper). The maudlin music is obtrusive and the pacing
uneven, but the story is generally engaging. It's set in the late
1950s, which in the film and television industries means an excuse
to offer the female characters little development beyond cheerleader
status. For some balance, follow October Sky by the tasty
girl-centered Jawbreaker. --Higgins
PAYBACK. Mel Gibson plays a man who's so bad he actually
rips the nose ring out of a tatooed, dreadlocked hipster's nostril.
That's the kind of thing that's so evil that even people who are
just appalled by the tag-along conformism of nose rings would
never have recurring fantasies about doing it to the next mindless
alterna-pop fan they see, so there's no satisfaction in watching
it. Then Mel beats up and/or kills lots of other people, all for
a measly $70,000 (US dollars, not that worthless Canadian crap).
I mean, sure, maybe you'd want to shoot William Devane and James
Coburn and Kris Kristofferson for $130,000, but $70,000? You'd
have to be really bad to do that. Then there's more killings and
beatings and sadistic torture, broken up by Mel's mushy protestations
of love for Maria Bello, who's so darn pretty I guess she's worth
killing for. Okay, I have to admit I enjoyed this movie, and I
don't feel bad about it, but I do feel bad about not feeling bad
about it. (I told a friend that this film features Ally McBeal
star Lucy Liu in a leather bikini, and he said, "Oh, you
mean it's a good movie.") --DiGiovanna
RUSHMORE. A very sophisticated comedy with the trappings
of a teen film, Rushmore is the strange story of a love
triangle involving Max, a 15-year-old boy (newcomer Jason Schwartzman),
Rosemary, a 30-year-old woman (Olivia Williams) and Herman, a
50-year-old man (Bill Murray). Murray is fabulous as the sleazy,
irritable and pathetic millionaire Herman Blume, but Schwartzman's
performance as Max is every bit as good, producing the best comic
pairing since Meryl Streep and Al Pacino teamed up in the remake
of Breakfast at Tiffany's. Max is editor of the school
newspaper and yearbook; president of the French club, German club,
chess club, and astronomy club; captain of the fencing and debate
teams; founder of the Double-Team Dodgeball Society; and director
of the Max Fischer Players, and Schwartzman gives him the compelling
air of an immature underachiever. Rushmore is easily the
best comedy of the last year, so show your disdain for the Academy
of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (who failed to give Rushmore
even a single Oscar nomination) by going to see it three or four
times, and then write them a letter reminding them that they've
given the best picture Oscar to Platoon, Forrest Gump, Braveheart
and Titanic, so where do they get off? --DiGiovanna
WAKING NED DEVINE. Ah, the clever Irish. When they're not
plotting world domination or making those Tamagotchis and lederhosen
that they're so famous for, you can usually find them doing those
slithery, funky, dances to those crazy jungle beats. So, what
could be more fun than watching a village of 52 Irish persons
try to con the Irish National Lottery out of nearly seven million
Irish pounds ("pound" or "punt" is a zany
Irish word for 1.4695 dollars)? I'll tell you: nothing. Waking
Ned Devine is good, clean Irish fun, even if it does include
some shots of naked Irish men. Really old naked Irish men, so
don't get all excited. Naked old Irish people are in no way pornographic.
And Waking Ned Devine is full of non-naked fun and surprises,
too, like village intrigues, fake eulogies, pints of Guinness
and a swiftly moving plot that unfolds against gorgeous landscapes
that were shot on location in the Isle of Man. Which is just so
Irish, to shoot a movie about Ireland in another country. So rather
than waste your time going to some Babylonian or Akkadian movie
that will just try to numb you with explosions and pseudo-snappy
catch-phrases, go see this refreshing and crisp Irish film that
features spot-on acting by Ian Bannen and David Kelly as Irish
men, and funny, believable dialogue by the extremely Irish writer/director
Kirk Jones. Well, okay, Kirk Jones is English, but he's so good
he should be Irish. --DiGiovanna
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