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 THE AVENGERS. I was only 7 years old the last time I saw
The Avengers TV series, but I don't remember it sucking
in quite this fashion. The most striking thing about this super-spy
story is that there's nothing striking about it--it has absolutely
no salient characteristics. From the initial meeting of secret
agents John Steed (Ralph Fiennes) and Mrs. Emma Peel (Uma Thurman,
in a double role), through their encounters with super-villian
Sean Connery, through Connery's attempts to control the world
by controlling the weather, up to the final confrontation, every
moment has exactly the same sense of force. It's like listening
to a metronome while watching special effects: There's no more
excitement or suspense in the explosions than in the expository
dialogue. I can't say whether this movie was bad or good; it was
so consistently the same, and so full of distracting if unorginal
visuals, and slack but not painful dialogue, that seeing it was
like having no experience whatsoever. After its mercifully brief
90 minutes were over, I almost completely forgot what it was about.
--DiGiovanna
COUSIN BETTE. Pre-20th-century period pieces can be frightening
propositions: boring, slow-paced films about weak aristocratic
women who faint at the mention of Heathcliff. Don't let that too-often-true
generalization keep you from Cousin Bette, though. It's
kind of like Terminator set in mid-19th-century France,
as Bette (Jessica Lange) methodically plans the demise of those
around her. Her family degrades her and consistently contributes
to her rather skewed sense of self, but rather than throwing herself
into a river she devises a plan of revenge that would make Alexis
Colby proud. Bette's especially refreshing in that she doesn't
need to use sex to get what she wants; she uses other people and
their desires to achieve her goals instead. Elisabeth Shue and
her bare ass co-star as her confidants and key elements in her
schemes and provide moments of cheeky (sorry) humor. Really, the
only offense in the whole film is a multitude of bad hair. So
set your VCR to tape Melrose Place this week, and go to
the Loft for two hours of backstabbing melodrama and sweet sisterly
justice. --Higgins
DEAD MAN ON CAMPUS. Did you ever hear that thing that if
your college roommate committed suicide, you'd get straight A's?
And did you ever think it would make a good premise for a movie?
And do you think Mark-Paul Gosselaar can overcome the stigma of
having played "Zak" on Saved by The Bell if he
dyes his hair black and plays a party-crazed pot-head? Me neither.
Still, there's some decent comic sequences here thanks to Lochlyn
Munro's performance as an adrenaline-charged psychotic who's too
horny and drunk to be allowed to live in a frat house...as if
that were possible. --DiGiovanna
EVER AFTER: A CINDERELLA STORY. Here's a welcome revision:
a Cinderella that kicks butt. Sure, Drew Barrymore's character
is neglected and mistreated, but she's no helpless little waif:
In a pinch, she won't hesitate to deck her wicked stepsister (Megan
Dodds) or throw the prince (Dougray Scott) over her shoulders
and carry him away from danger. These sorts of touches, smartly
handled by director Andy Tennant, make Ever After a delight--even
for those of us who never thought we could thoroughly enjoy a
Cinderella movie. I'm not sure how Tennant got it out of her,
but Barrymore's performance is winningly effective, and surprisingly
well-rounded. A political idealist with passion to spare, she
earns the prince's respect until he realizes he needs to earn
hers in return. Better still is Anjelica Huston, who plays the
bitchy stepmother with a trace of complexity--you get the sense
she's evil because it hurts to be nice, and you keep watching
her face for signs of pain. Everything else about the movie turns
out a shade more entertainingly than you'd expect, from the fate
of the chubby stepsister (played by Heavenly Creatures' Kate
Lansbury) to the whimsical way Leonardo Da Vinci is integrated
into the story. Rock on, Cinderella. --Woodruff
HALLOWEEN: H20. Twenty years ago, Halloween was
released and established a number of the conventions now associated
with the slasher film. H20 continues the narrative begun
in the original--the mental torture of Laurie Strode (Jamie Lee
Curtis) by her knife-happy brother Michael Myers (Chris Durand).
Now in her late 30s, Laurie has adopted an alias in order to hide
from her psychotic sibling. He finds her, of course (pure evil
is freaky like that), both in her nightmares and on Halloween,
1998. Though the pacing is slow and the body count low throughout
much of the film, the bloody opening sequence and frenetic, surprising,
final 20 minutes redeem H20 and make it worth your while.
Also noteworthy is a cameo by Curtis' real-life mother, Janet
Leigh, in a small role which comically references her character
in the film generally credited as having gotten the slasher ball
rolling, Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho. --Higgins
HOW STELLA GOT HER GROOVE BACK. Stella (Angela Bassett)
may have gotten her groove back, but in the process she took mine
away. After two hours and 20 minutes of ridiculous dialogue and
clichéd situations, the only boogying I wanted to do was
out to my car and far, far away from Whoopi Goldberg commenting
on the Jamaican surf by saying "God is here," and six-figure
Stella moaning about her mortgage amidst numerous Tommy Hilfiger
product placements. This is a made-for-TV movie on the big screen,
with the choppy editing and poor lighting to prove it. The semi-autobiographical
story by Terry McMillan (Waiting to Exhale) is about 40-year-old
Stella, who goes to Jamaica and enlists 20-year-old Winston (Taye
Diggs) to pull her out of a sexual, emotional and creative dry
spell. The majority of the film attempts to convince us that the
two are in love, but Stella is so neurotic and Winston so accommodating
that the requisite coupling at the end elicits screams rather
than tears. --Higgins
SMOKE SIGNALS. A modest film that nonetheless tackles big
themes, Smoke Signals is a quirky, inventive road movie
that bills itself as the first feature film written and directed
by Native Americans. It's the story of two friends, Victor (Adam
Beach) and Thomas (Evan Adams), who live on the Coeur d'Alene
Indian Reservation and have known each other all their lives.
When Victor's father dies, the boys take to the highway to go
collect his ashes (in Phoenix, which is a little hamlet in the
middle of the desert in this movie), and end up finding out something
about themselves. The plot is familiar, but the inventive script
by poet Sherman Alexie raises it above the standard boy-into-man
story; there are even occasional flashes of beauty. --Richter
SNAKE EYES. How is it that a director so masterful at the
techniques of manipulation can be so obtuse about connecting to
his audience? At the start, Brian DePalma's use of moving camera
is brilliant--he sets up an elaborate assassination plot in what
seems like only one or two rapidly tracking shots through a boxing
arena. Then, as protagonist Nicolas Cage (in a wild but well-focused
performance) unravels the case, DePalma shifts into Rashomon
mode, depicting the same scenes repeatedly from a variety of perspectives--including
those of several video surveillance cameras. It's wonderful, but
DePalma and screenwriter David Koepp reveal the mystery midway
through, giving way to a poorly established character study; a
limp series of cat-and-mouse scenes involving a beautiful and
hopelessly nearsighted witness; and a brutal, stupid finale. What
were they thinking? The whole movie could have been just mystery-thickening
tracking shots and it would have been great. Snake Eyes
is still a visual feast, but you might want to throw it up afterwards.
--Woodruff
THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT MARY. The brothers Farrelly, known
for their gross but weirdly compelling comedies (Dumb and Dumber;
Kingpin) have tried to show a little taste in their latest
romantic comedy. The result is cute and evokes the occasional
giggle, but this movie just isn't as funny as their previous ventures.
Cameron Diaz plays Mary, an all-around nice girl who somehow attracts
more than her fair share of psychos. Ben Stiller plays Ted, the
modest nice guy who's been in love with her since high school,
when he once walked her home. Matt Dillon, Lee Evans, and Chris
Elliott are among her numerous lovers/tormentors. Adorable musical
interludes from Jonathan Richman help give this movie pep, but
how funny is it really to watch a woman being stalked? --Richter
UNDER THE SKIN. This mediocre drama is a working-class
English take on Waiting for Mr. Goodbar. Samantha Morton
does a credible job as Iris, a young woman who tries a turn at
sluttiness after the death of her mother, though she probably
doesn't have quite the acting skills to pull off a role that has
to make up for a rather thin storyline. The plot is mostly an
excuse to string together a series of sex scenes and close-ups
of Morton's face while she has "feelings." All of the
close-ups are hand-held shots, which makes them a little hard
to watch, though there are some nicely photographed sequences
when the camera is allowed to pull back and expose the cramped
quarters in which Iris takes her sexual odyssey. Certainly more
engaging than most summer blockbusters, but it never rises to
great heights. --DiGiovanna
WHY DO FOOLS FALL IN LOVE. This bio-pic about Frankie Lymon,
doo-wop heartthrob of 1950's pop group "Frankie Lymon and
the Teenagers," is so oddly intriguing that it overcomes
many of its faults, including a penchant for melodrama and some
goof-ball acting by Lela Rochon and Vivica Fox. The story of a
teen idol's fall from fame and his marriages to three different
women is framed by a courtroom sequence wherein the three wives
fight over his estate. Told in flashbacks that start from the
witness stand, Lymon's life is a compelling oddity, charting what
happens to someone who must outlive his brief flirtation with
celebrity. Larenz Tate's performance as Frankie has a get-under-your-skin
quality that's perfect for both his overly-optimistic early years
and nostalgic, junkie decline; and Paul Mazursky does his usual
stand-up job as the paradigmatically sleazy record executive.
Worth a look, though perhaps not the two hours that it asks for.
--DiGiovanna
WRONGFULLY ACCUSED. Wrongfully written, wrongfully released,
and wrongfully attended by me. Leslie Neilsen sleepwalks through
the lead role, reiterating the lame jokes he's become known for
in films like Dracula: Dead and Loving It and Spy Hard.
Whether or not a spoof of The Fugitive was necessary, here
it is, complete with a cultural critique via toilet jokes. If
you're really into this kind of humor, save your money and go
stare at a pile of dog shit instead. Absolutely hilarious! --Higgins
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