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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
THE CORRUPTOR. Mark Wahlberg, sans prosthesis, and Chow
Yun Fat, sans his usual charm, star in this extremely bloody buddy
movie. Two officers, one white, one Chinese, must fight their
way through a corrupt Chinatown that threatens to take their souls!
Yawn. Lots of dead people, naked people, and dead naked people,
and a car chase with the highest level of collateral damage (i.e.
bullet-riddled pedestrians) make this a rather tasteless outing,
but it might appeal to hardcore fans of blood, death, and Mark
Wahlberg. --DiGiovanna
8MM. The premise of an investigator hired to determine
the authenticity of a snuff film is intriguing and full of potential.
Unfortunately, this character drama revolves around an unsympathetic,
two-dimensional protagonist and is told in a strikingly conventional
manner. Tom (Nicolas Cage) is in almost every scene, yet we learn
very little about him as he navigates a porn underworld in order
to locate the makers of the film. Mostly he death marches through
his investigation, occasionally grunting to his wife (Catherine
Keener) on the phone or getting tours of XXX-rated flea markets
from Truman Capote-reading skin trader Max (Joaquin Phoenix).
And I don't know what director Joel Schumacher (St. Elmo's
Fire, The Lost Boys) did to his star, but poor Cage was so
very sleepy he could barely keep his eyes open during most of
8MM. Me, too. --Higgins
THE GENERAL. Director John Boorman made his name with the
extremely effective and disturbing Deliverance. He went
on to direct an extremely eclectic mix of films, from the bizarre
Wizard of Oz/post-apocalyptic sci-fi fantasy Zardoz
to the schmaltzy-sweet environmental film Emerald Forest,
to the pagan retelling of the King Arthur legend in Excalibur.
What all of these films had in common were vast, colorful and
wide-open shots of seemingly magical outdoor scenery. The General
is a complete about-face: black and white, with lots of close
up, claustrophobic cityscapes. Its engaging story is about the
leader of a gang of Irish criminals whose elaborate plans for
heists, hold ups and obstructions of the criminal justice system
are funny until they become tragic. This would be a perfect "small"
film if it were only a little shorter; as it is Boorman succumbs
to the current vogue for adding 30 minutes more film than necessary.
Still, The General is a strong effort that adds a new wrinkle
to an interesting career. --DiGiovanna
JAWBREAKER. An 87-minute rock video, replete with teenage
girls in skin-tight clothes, hot cars, cute boys and a prom scene.
Or maybe it's a parable for the image-over-substance, ends-justify-the-means,
murder-with-a-smile Reagan administration and the society of shallowness
and hypocrisy that it fed upon and encouraged. Or maybe it's just
a collection of scenes from Heathers and Carrie
strung together over a throbbing rock soundtrack. Or maybe not.
--DiGiovanna
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
OFFICE SPACE. Mike Judge's first non-animated feature makes
an ideal, male-populated companion piece to the female-centered
Clockwatchers. Like its prececessor, many of Office
Space's laughs come from the thrill of seeing the banal frustrations
of work life amplified larger than life--there's a hearty sense
of release. Our hero, Ron Livingston (a cool young actor we'll
likely be seeing a lot more of), is yet another desk drone workin'
for the man at a cubicled company called Initech, which has an
environment just real enough to believe and just cartoony enough
to be hilarious. "The man" turns out to be Gary Cole
(last seen as Mike Brady in The Brady Bunch Movie), easily
the most hideous incarnation of a "polite" boss ever
conceived. Office Space has a story similar to that episode
of Seinfeld in which George Costanza decides to do everything
the opposite of how he would normally do it--a darned funny episode,
so we can forgive Mike Judge his easy plot. Not to mention that
the smaller characters, like the computer programmer with a perpetual
paper jam, generate enough interest to keep the movie alive even
without a plot. Surprisingly, after twisted office logic has been
successfully manipulated and anarchy satisfyingly reigns, Judge
gets a pang of conscience and horseshoes the story back onto itself.
Because it avoids condescending to its characters (something Clockwatchers
could have learned from), Office Space's extra dose of
reality works, leaving it far better than anyone could have expected
from the creator of Beavis and Butthead.
--Woodruff
200 CIGARETTES. Other than a strong performance by Courtney
Love, there's nothing to recommend this calculated attempt to
cash in on retro-'80s chic. Six stories of romance intertwine
on New Year's Eve, 1981, in New York's trendy East Village. Oddly
enough, all of the stories involve hot young stars, hip music,
and MTV-inspired fashion. If only there were plots and dialogue
to go with the clothing and faces, this would be a movie. As it
is, it's a collection of publicity stills waiting for a script.
--DiGiovanna
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