 |
 The Cable Guy. Editor's note: Our regular reviewer would
like to state that she is not a Jim Carrey fan; and in fact believes
he's a sort of brain-damaged version of all that is sinister and
annoying about Jerry Lewis. In deference to her professional integrity,
we'd like to make clear the opinions contained here (and in the
Dragonheart clip, while we're at it) belong to another reviewer.
Jim Carrey plunges into the dark side in this purely cynical comedy
about psychopaths and free cable. Matthew Broderick co-stars as
the victimized straight man, reeling and lonely after his girlfriend
kicks him out. The silliness of Carrey's trademark antics are
offset by his black humor about a lonely boy (nation?) that grew
up with TV as his only friend. The attention to detail and sheer
volume of TV-show references make this a downright eerie journey
through latchkey America and a burgeoning psychosis lurking behind
so many strangers in anonymous coveralls. Under Ben Stiller's
direction, The Cable Guy is a perfect example of Freud's theory
that laughter is a latent expression of fear.
Cold Comfort Farm. John Schlesinger makes a wonderful comeback
with Cold Comfort Farm, a zippy comedy with a very sly, British
sense of humor. Tons of witty dialogue and clever asides pepper
this story of a plucky gal who decides, after the death of her
parents, to go live with the most "interesting" family
members she can find in order to scavenge fuel for her writing
career. The distant relatives she locates are closer to insane
than interesting--a weird, gothic clan of vaguely inbred farmers
who don't even observe the custom of afternoon tea. The plucky
Flora Poste tries her 1930's modern-girl best to turn her relatives'
shame-filled, squalid lives into something out of the society
section. Ah--but will she succeed?
Dragonheart. Not since the Star Wars trilogy have we seen
an otherworldly creature this "realistic" and lovable.
Unfortunately, the quality of the storytelling is light years
away from that cinematic masterpiece. The plot (and the occasional
quip) err at times on the contemporary side considering the 18th-century
setting; but Dragonheart overcomes its weaknesses to deliver an
action-adventure-comedy that's perfect for bored, young audiences
out-of-school children with nowhere to go. The moral for insolent
teenagers-in-training may alone be worth the price of admission.
Dennis Quaid plays the dragon-slaying knight and Sean Connery
is wise, clever Draco, the last dragon. Overall, this is a marvel
of special effects with plenty of comic relief to make the cloying
sentimentality bearable. On an unlikely yet appropriate scale,
it's better than First Knight but not as good as Princess Bride.
Mission: Impossible. Rather than having a plot, this movie
features an accretion of random events arranged next to each other
on film. If you're confused during this movie, join the rapidly
expanding club. On the other hand, Brian DePalma is a genius at
directing action scenes, and you will almost certainly gasp involuntarily
when Tom Cruise hangs above that white supercomputer by a thread.
Those who consider Cruise to be a babe will certainly find him
in top form here. But if you were a fan of the Mission: Impossible
TV series, or if you expect your movies to have coherent plots,
you will be disappointed.
Moll Flanders. This marathon of a period movie, based loosely
on the novel by Daniel Defoe, is plagued by a corny script and
is just annoying in general. Moll Flanders (Robyn Wright) is an
18th-century independent spirit, poor and alone, trying to make
her way in the cold, hard world. It seems the only two choices
she has are the convent and the whorehouse, and she tries them
both without much success. The dialogue in this movie is atrocious,
as is the gut-wrenchingly dramatic plot. A special throne of badness
is reserved here for the extremely annoying, other-worldly music
that tortures the viewer subliminally for the first half of the
movie. A few fine actors, including Stockard Channing, do their
best to enliven this film, to no avail.
The Phantom. A flick that truly earns the adjective unwatchable,
The Phantom is simply the corniest, most predictable, flat piece
of filmmaking imaginable. Okay, yes, so a guy runs around the
jungle in a purple spandex suit, but don't let that fool you:
There's nothing exciting here. Every single line of dialogue has
been recycled from other movies (example: "She's a feisty
one, isn't she!") and all the sets look like they've been
borrowed from the back lot of Xena: Warrior Princess. There's
some plot here somewhere, something about forbidden skulls or
something; but believe us, it's nothing you haven't seen before.
Don't waste an irretrievable portion of life on this travesty.
The Rock. If you're looking for an entertaining action
movie to fritter away a summer afternoon, this should be your
first stop. Sean Connery and Nicolas Cage star as mismatched partners
battling pure evil in the form of a chemical weapon that resembles
a giant tube of fluorescent-green bath beads. The weapons are
controlled by a whacked-out Vietnam vet (Ed Harris) on The Rock,
a.k.a. Alcatraz, and the guys have to break in to the impenetrable
fortress in order to save San Francisco, and possibly Oakland.
Okay, so the situation is contrived, but the little twists of
fate in this movie combined with genuinely funny dialogue make
it a stellar piece of vapid entertainment. Extra bonus: Both Cage
and Connery look surprisingly hunky in wet clothing.
Stealing Beauty. Bernardo Bertolucci splashes around with
both the MTV and the Masterpiece Theater generations in this coming-of-age
movie set in the Italian country side. Beautiful shots, sets,
and actors, hallmarks of any Bertolucci film, make Stealing Beauty
easy on the eyes--and Liv Tyler, the gorgeous 17-year-old star,
doesn't hurt either. Tyler handles herself with ease and dignity
as she plays the role of an American virgin aiming to get herself
deflowered while a bored group of cosmopolitan grown-ups egg her
on. Sometimes though, it seems like the camera lingers a little
too obsessively on the upper region of the inner seam of her tight
jeans, and it's hard to escape the sensation that perhaps this
is just a classy way for Bertolucci to act like a dirty old man.
The screenplay, by author Susan Minot, is disappointingly flat;
but Tyler is so entrancing it hardly matters.
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