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 ANALYZE THIS. It's the impossibly tough-willed dramatic
actor versus the fast-talking, lightweight comedian in this tale
of a New York mobster who hires an unwilling therapist. In the
former role, Robert DeNiro both makes fun of and pays homage to
some of his most famous roles, including those in The Godfather,
Part II and Goodfellas. What's great about DeNiro is
that he is never merely winking at the audience; he's still seriously
acting, even while being funny. This keeps the tension taut, creating
an environment in which Billy Crystal's sometimes-annoying brand
of squirmy humor can thrive. They're a terrific comic mismatch,
and director-writer Harold Ramis (a favorite from the days of
SCTV) smartly allows them to play off each other as frequently
as possible. When Analyze This does lag, it's because Ramis
actually seems to be taking the therapeutic scenes seriously--a
predisposition he no doubt picked up from his direction of the
strangely good Stuart Saves His Family. The film also benefits
from the supporting efforts of Joe Viterelli, a fat, bad-skinned
henchman who's tough enough to be menacing but not too tough to
say the word "poop." --Woodruff
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
CRUEL INTENTIONS. Studio executives, worried that Keanu
Reeves is getting a little long in the tooth, have been searching
for an extremely wooden cute-guy actor-type to replace him in
the hearts and loins of American youth. With Cruel Intentions,
robotic sex-toy Ryan Phillippe has shown he's got the stuff. He
plays the comically evil Valmont in this modern day, prep-school
remake of Dangerous Liasons. Not to be missed are Sarah
Michelle Gellar's Joan Collins impression as Valmont's evil and
licentious sister, and Selma Blair (of TV's Zoe, Duncan, Jack
and Jane) as the coming-of-age kiddie seduced and abused by
the evil siblings. Cruel Intentions has surpassed Showgirls
as the best sleazefest on film, with more than enough pretentiously
funny dialogue, scenes of teens in bed, and over-the-top ham acting
to keep you entertained for its zippy 90-minute run. --DiGiovanna
HI-LO COUNTRY. This boys-and-their-cattle film is a Cormac
McCarthy-esque (the sweet McCarthy of The Crossing, not
the twisted McCarthy of Blood Meridian) look at two men
(Woody Harrelson and Billy Crudup) who return from WWII to their
ranch lands and try to live a cowboy life that's fading into the
world of corporate farming. While the story is a bit obvious and
melodramatic (they're both in love with the same woman, who's
married to the factotum of the evil proto-corporate rancher),
Harrelson's performance is strong enough to hold attention. He's
just such a weird actor, playing an odd cross between his mass-murderer
role from Natural Born Killers and sweet, lovable "Woody"
from Cheers, that it's always interesting to watch his
wild mood swings and enormously overstated facial expressions.
Unfortunately, the female characters are treated like window dressing,
denied much in the way of screen time or good dialogue. In the
end, the cowboys themselves come across as less sexist than the
filmmakers, in that they make some effort to understand the women
they are attracted to and who are attracted to them. It's too
bad director Stephen Frears and writer Walon Green don't share
this interest in women's inner lives, and can only give us a beautifully
photographed, slow and sad buddy film. While not without rewards,
it could have been much richer in exploring the relationships
it backgrounds against the red skies and grasslands of the Southwest.
--DiGiovanna
LOCK, STOCK AND TWO SMOKING BARRELS. This is one fellowdrama
where the characters thankfully don't whine about relationships
gone awry. In fact, women are pretty much absent from this world,
which is certainly preferable to creating female characters for
scenery or to deflect attention from possible homoerotic situations.
The enjoyably convoluted plot revolves around Eddie (Nick Moran)
and his need to come up with 500,000 pounds to pay off a gambling
debt. Various thugs start stealing money from one another, and
Eddie and his three buddies attempt to be the dough's final recipients.
The dialogue is the weakest link here, as this British film relies
heavily upon the word fuck as a substitute for character-revealing,
thought-provoking conversation. But Lock, Stock is noteworthy
and satisfying largely in its privileging of style over story;
saturated colors, camera technique and an obtrusive soundtrack
create a fun tone that vacillates between porn and music video.
Confrontations between the criminal factions offer the money shots
of ejaculatory gunfire and plunging knives, and several sequences
harmonize image with sound in a manner reminiscent of such soundtrack
films as A Hard Day's Night.--Higgins
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. --Higgins
THE RAGE: CARRIE 2. A very '90s version of the Stephen
King/Brian DePalma horror classic. This time, instead of a mousy
Christian girl, the outcast with the super-powers is a hot little
Goth chick who takes no guff. Oddly, she still seems excited to
be dating the star football player. Other than its use of standard
teen film clichés, and the rapidly-becoming-cliché
image of the Girl Power lead character, The Rage: Carrie 2
is a pretty decent B-movie, in the Boy-Meet-Girl, Boy-Loses-Girl,
Girl-Uses-Her-Psychic-Powers-To-Mutilate-And-Dismember-Her-High-School-Classmates
mode. --DiGiovanna
RAVENOUS. An extended metaphor about Manifest Destiny,
Ravenous tells the story of a survivor from the Donner
Party who gains supernatural strength from eating humans. Beautiful
photography and a very unusual, unpredictable story make this
worth watching. However, the gore and violence are pretty extreme,
so it's certainly not for the squeamish. Features an extremely
well-integrated score written in collaboration by minimalist composer
Michael Nyman and Blur frontman Damon Albarn. --DiGiovanna
TRUE CRIME. Dear Mr. Clint Eastwood: You do not look sexy
lounging around half-naked while making bedroom eyes at women
young enough to be your granddaughters. Please, please stop it
this instant. And this story you directed, where a reporter takes
one day to solve a crime that legions of lawyers and police officers
have been working on for 20 years, is not only trite but unbelievable.
And your turn as the drunken, womanizing reporter whose heart
is in the right place has been done before, and better, by William
Holden, Kirk Douglas, and about a dozen other actors from the
'50s. Only they weren't so cocky as to think that audiences would
believe that they were getting in bed with 20-year-olds when they
were in their 70s. So just stop before anyone has to see your
flabby nipples again. --DiGiovanna
20 DATES. This film, a fake documentary about a man going
on 20 dates, reminded me of my single days. I brought my wife,
Connie, with me, and as we left the theater I told her that I
had experienced many of the same heady conundrums as Myles, the
main character, who's search for love is interrupted by the financial
realities of finishing his film with the backing of Russian gangsters.
Connie looked at me funny. "You related to Myles? He was
such an asshole! How could anyone stand him? He's one of those
guys whose nasty humor seems funny at first, then as you get used
to it, it just becomes trying! The last hour of that film was
excruciating!"
"Yeah," I said, "but the first half-hour was funny...."
"You know," she said, "that is like being
with you." Then she left me. So I guess this is one of those
films that can really open your eyes to what's important in life.
Oh, Connie!
--DiGiovanna
WALK ON THE MOON. I just love New York Jewish culture,
and nothing is more N.Y. Jewish than a summer in the Catskills,
the low-rent vacation area in up-state New York that brought us
"Borsht Belt" humor and tiny lakes with paddle boats
for rent. I also love period pieces, if they get the clothes and
hair exactly right. And I love actors Liev Shrieber, Viggo Mortensen
and Diane Lane. So I couldn't help but love this story about a
family whose vacation in the Catskills in the summer of 1968 brings
their conservative, working-class lifestyle into contact with
the Woodstock music festival. Every element is perfectly 1968,
from the over-sprayed coifs to the stiff, brightly colored blouses
and the free-flowing and dirty style of the neighboring hippies.
And the acting is, of course, spot-on. And there's a charming
and heartbreaking love story. And pretty people getting naked
in the woods. And latkes and matzoh and schmaltz. Oh my. --DiGiovanna
WING COMMANDER. In a tremendous waste of talent, Tchéky
Karyo, David Suchet and David Warner, who all have the good fortune
to have been born in countries where spending millions on a movie
adapted from a video game would be considered a bit gauche, are
tossed into outer space for this multi-million dollar movie that's
based on a video game. Like a video game, there're lots of explosions,
you don't have any interest in the characters, and dialogue is
not exactly the most important element. Unfortunately, even as
a shoot-'em-up Wing Commander fails, as the outer space
scenes are poorly lit, and it's always difficult to tell who's
shooting at who. The scary space aliens are also rather lame,
looking like burly guys with immobile, rubber, kitten faces. I
guess the big draw for Wing Commander was supposed to be
teen heartthrob Freddie Prinze Jr., who's claim to fame is that
he's a bit cuter than his father and doesn't have an insatiable
appetite for cocaine. There's also a surprisingly decent (i.e.
not horrifyingly bad) performance by Matthew Lillard, who was
annoying in Scream, Scream 2, She's All That and, I'm guessing,
in person. But Wing Commander's biggest sin is that it's
dull. If the future is going to be this boring, I'm canceling
my membership at the Cryogenic Institute of Greater Metropolitan
Tucson. --DiGiovanna
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