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 ABSOLUTE POWER. Clint Eastwood stars and directs this thriller
about an aging, master thief hoping to pull off one last, spectacular
heist before retiring for good. His plans are botched, however,
when he discovers the wife of the wealthy businessman he hopes
to rob is having an affair with none other than the President
of the United States himself. Murder, intrigue, and conflicts
of interest ensue. With Ed Harris, Melora Hardin, E.G. Marshall
and Gene Hackman as The President. --Richter
BLOOD AND WINE. Bob Rafelson, the director of Five Easy
Pieces, teams up with Jack Nicholson to once again probe the
dark side of human existence. A cheesy and familiar action script
dilutes any true sense of inquiry, and there's an insufferable,
Oedipal subplot thrown in just to make sure the audience feels
good and insulted. Nicholson plays Alex Gates, a greedy, aging
wine merchant who's inexplicably alluring to a hot, gorgeous Cuban
girl half his age (Jennifer Lopez). There's a wife, a son, a diamond
necklace, a car crash, and Michael Caine, hacking up pieces of
lung, overacting as usual. --Richter
DANTE'S PEAK. It's man versus nature in this disaster movie
about a small town nestled beneath a rumbling volcano in the Northern
Cascades. The interests of developers clash with the predictions
of seismologists as the townspeople waste time, debating the dangers
of the percolating peak. Liquefied rock, steam, and clouds of
pumice and ash are the real stars in this inferno of special effects,
though Pierce Brosnan also stars as the scientist who tries to
warn the townspeople of impending doom and Linda Hamilton plays
the Mayor who falls in love with him. --Richter
DONNIE BRASCO. Zesty Italian mobsters shoot, hack and smash
each other to smithereens one more time in this reprise of the
Mafia flick. There's nothing new here, but if you're a fan of
the mobster drama, this one's entirely passable. Johnny Depp,
that pretty, pretty man, is really quite good as Donnie Brasco
(a.k.a. Joe Pistone), an undercover agent burrowing deep into
the structure of the Brooklyn (or is it Queens?) Mafia. His special
gangster friend is Al Pacino, an aging, rat-like professional
killer who somehow elicits more love and loyalty from Brasco than
his adorable daughters and hot-fox wife. The sweeping themes of
loyalty, honor, manhood, and manly death seem to aim for some
sort of marriage of the worlds of Shakespeare and John Wayne;
but Brasco lacks sincerity and originality and really only
succeeds in invoking other, better, gangster movies. --Marchant
LOST HIGHWAY. It's another weird David Lynch movie designed
to make you feel like merely a visitor in your own body. Bill
Pullman and Patricia Arquette star as a typical yet completely
unfamiliar version of the film noir couple--he's depressed and
suspicious, she's beautiful and furtive. They stare at each other,
pacing around their '70s ranch house, waiting for something bad
to happen. Eventually, it does. Things only get stranger from
there. It's as if Lynch took Dostoyevsky's The Double,
added a whole bunch of references to '40s films, cut it up and
pasted it back together, all while drinking gallons of espresso.
I like it! --Richter
MICROCOSMOS. Microcosmos, a nearly wordless film
of close-up shots of insects, seems to have been conceived under
the influence of Roger Dean record covers and wimpy 1970s fusion
rock. Clearly, those who are most stoned will most enjoy the "hey-we-have-a-macroscopic-lens-let's-shoot-some-bugs!"
randomness of this movie. Plotlessly moving from one tiny drama
to another, the filmmakers hope to keep the audience's attention
solely through the power of images. Unfortunately, even at its
short, 80-minute run, this tactic grows wearying. Worse still
is the Moody Blues-inspired monologue that Kristen Scott Thomas
reads at the opening and close of the film. Go see it only under
the influence of a recently rediscovered bag of dope you forgot
you stashed in your Yessongs album during a toke-fest in
1978. --DiGiovanna
ROSEWOOD. In the early 1920s, a small, prosperous black-owned
and -operated town was brutally wiped out by an angry mob of whites
from next door. This true story, which only came to light recently
when the few remaining survivors finally broke their silence,
would seem a powerful statement of prejudice and mob-rule hatred
against well-adjusted, self-empowered African Americans. But in
the hands of director John Singleton, it instead descends disappointingly
into vacuous, hokey Hollywoodism. There are moments, especially
in the first half, of anxiety and outrage, and credible acting
from Ving Rhames and Jon Voight, among others; but Singleton and
his screenwriters veer wildly from known accounts in order to
make the film "marketable," mixing in elements of westerns,
after-school special sermonizing, and unlikely (however welcome)
moments of good fortune on which the actual survivors almost certainly
could not have counted. Care and effort have been put into this
film. It's a shame Singleton was unable to trust the material
to stand on its own. --Marchant
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