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 ANTZ. Remember Woody Allen? Well, he's back--in ant form!
Woody plays himself, only with more chitin, in this perverted
children's story about an ant who is emotionally unable to support
his colony's collective consciousness. He accidentally becomes
a war hero, kidnaps a princess, leads a Marxist revolution, and
has a fulfilling relationship with his wife's adopted daughter.
Well, three out of those four, anyway. I'm not really sure at
what audience this movie is aimed, since its "G" rating
and the fact that its animated seems to direct it toward kids;
but Allen, as Z the Ant, makes comments like "Just for that
I'm no longer including you in my wild, erotic fantasies,"
which I'm not sure is kid stuff. (I haven't been a kid for a while
so I could be off-base here). Still, this is the most Woody Allen-like
Woody Allen film since Manhattan, so maybe it's for that
next generation of self-obsessed neurotic pre-schoolers who've
been looking for a voice for their generation. Still, there's
something a bit unnerving about this project--do we want Woody
Allen attracting underage fans? --DiGiovanna
FIRELIGHT. This hilarious sci-fi/comedy/period romance
is what PBS will look like in the future, when all the other channels
offer nothing but pornography and live executions. Andrea Dworkin
would love the plot: It's about a woman (Sophie Marceau) who contracts
out as a prostitute/baby machine for an anonymous rich man, with
whom she instantly falls in love. After their three-day affair
ends, she's never to see him again, though she must surrender
the child they have conceived to his agents. Seven years later,
she inexplicably becomes her own daughter's governess. I really
cannot express how funny this film is: When Marceau finds her
daughter, the daughter says, "Why did you give me away?";
and Marceau replies "I didn't--I sold you." I haven't
heard so many guffaws in a movie theater since the death scene
in Rocky IV. --DiGiovanna
THE IMPOSTORS. Stanley Tucci wrote and directed this delightful
light comedy, set aboard a sumptuous 1930s luxury boat. Tucci
and Oliver Platt play Arthur and Maurice, an inseparable skinny/fat
pair of actors who're nothing if not dedicated to their craft
and each other. Though not very successful on stage, the two hold
the philosophy that anytime is a good time to act--in a pastry
shop, a sidewalk café, you name it. Such shenanigans of
course get them into trouble, and before you know it they've inadvertently
stowed away on a boat. Such ridiculous comic tropes actually work,
because the script is smart; and the ensemble cast, including
Isabella Rossellini, Steve Buscemi, and Lili Taylor, seems to
be having a ball. --Richter
NIGHT AT THE ROXBURY. Try "night at the torture chamber."
First they tried to break me with that damn Haddaway song, then
it was the breast montage. But I was strong. I lasted through
the way-dumbed-down Swingers plot, lame references to the
over-referenced '70s, overused jokes, and the ass montage.
Other viewers must be similarly tenacious, because Night has
lasted longer in the theaters than It's Pat! (Granted,
one day at the box office isn't tough to beat.) Short Doug (Chris
Kattan) and tall Steve (Will Ferrell) are the clubbing brothers
from Saturday Night Live who (this is the clever part)
don't realize how annoying they are. They have a dream and...yawn...achieve
it by the film's end. And they get laid (maybe that's the
clever part). We're graced with brief appearances by Loni Anderson
and Richard Grieco, but they were much too little, too late. What
finally broke me was the running time--almost two hours. It's
really all about endurance.
--Higgins
ONE TRUE THING. Poor Rene Zewiggler--she perpetually looks
like she's about to cry. At least that probably made her a shoo-in
for this weepie about how a family handles their dying mother/wife
(Meryl Streep). Daughter Ellen (Zewiggler) has a crush on her
father (William Hurt and runaway goatee), and is therefore successfully
manipulated into postponing her promising writing career to play
caretaker. In the process she discovers how devalued her mom has
been as a homemaker and that her dad would not be a fun date.
While it's nice to see a film that focuses on a mother-daughter
relationship, it seems a bit cruel to show the underdeveloped
characters wading through the contrived scenes with the assistance
of alcohol without offering any to the audience. Most recent Hollywood
films about women over 40 are just plain boring, though in this
case it probably has a lot to do with the insane amount of Bette
Midler music on the soundtrack. For you Beverly Hills, 90210
fans out there, you'll be glad to see that Mr. Walsh (James Eckhouse)
has expanded his range to include a supporting role as a lawyer.--Higgins
PERMANENT MIDNIGHT. If you hate Ben Stiller's acting, you'll
want to avoid Permanent Midnight like it was a weekend
with Richard Simmons. If not, this is definitely worth checking
out. Although not long on originality, this true story of Jerry
Stahl, the heroin-addicted writer for the TV series Alf,
has some creative and engaging moments, including the best crack-smoking
scene ever filmed. In the role of Stahl, Stiller does his entire
quivering, double-talking, hyper-active shtick here, and it works
well in conveying the excited desperation of someone on the edge
of fame. Still, I know a good number of people who find Stiller
unbearable, and this is him at his most intense. Maria Bello (of
ER) turns in a creditable performance as the anonymous
woman who finds him working at a drive-through burger stand after
his rehabilitation; and Elizabeth Hurley plays her standard role
as Stahl's beautiful green-card wife, but really it's Stiller's
show. Even if you can't stand him, at least slip in for the last
few minutes where, as Stahl, he goes on all the talk shows for
the obligatory post-modern, post-addiction, post-recovery, public
self-flagellation. --DiGiovanna
RUSH HOUR. Although this is the first Jackie Chan movie
to score big at the box office in its opening weekend in America,
it's probably his worst film. Other than the five jokes that have
been spread out over the 90 minutes of this films length, all
the dialogue is incredibly painful. When asked why he's so gung-ho
about capturing the villain, Chan is even forced to utter the
line, "He killed my partner." There's a couple of good
acrobatics/martial arts sequences, but not enough to make this
worth sitting through. On the other hand, if you think you'd like
to watch Chris Tucker do an exaggerated impression of an Asian
while Chan tries to get "funky" and "down"
to some soul music, then this film's for you.
--DiGiovanna
URBAN LEGEND. Did you ever hear the one about the Hollywood
movie that was actually satisfying? A friend of my second cousin's
friend heard about it, and it's true! Several of those scary stories
you believed as a kid are compiled here for a by-the-book but
nonetheless clever horror film. The tortured female this time
is Natalie (Alicia Witt), a coed with a past that includes the
death of a teenage boy because of her enactment of an urban legend.
Well, somebody knows what she did last summer and is playing out
other terrifying tales on her friends, such as hiding in the back
of a car with an ax and killing her roommate while she sleeps
in the next bed. Robert Englund (best known as Freddy Krueger
from the Nightmare on Elm Street series) plays one of the
main suspects, Professor Wexler, and doe-eyed Jared Leto and clean-skinned
Rebecca Gayheart offer lots of frightening cuteness. --Higgins
WHAT DREAMS MAY COME. Hamlet fretted over what dreams may
come when we shuffle off this mortal coil, but Robin Williams
doesn't have to worry, because he's already been to heaven. And
Annabella Sciorra has been to hell. This well-intentioned but
stupid mutation of the Orpheus story (based on the novel by Richard
Matheson) concerns a very happy couple who like each other a lot.
In fact, Christy and Annie Nielsen (Williams and Sciorra) are
soulmates. They have it all: an upscale life, a nanny, expensive
objects, until their kids die in a car crash, and then Christy
dies in one, too. Eventually he ends up in heaven, and his wife
ends up in hell--Max Von Sydow plays the shrink-turned-ferryman
who navigates between the two. The special effects are pretty
darn nifty here, and as a welcome relief, they don't involve any
shooting or blowing up. But the freshman-level philosophy ("You
know who you are because you think you do!" ) and tons of
painful psychoblather shove this movie into the fiery depths of
banality. There is one good part: We get to hear Robin Williams
called "Christy" for two hours, evoking images of a
freshly scrubbed teenage girl in a tennis skirt. --Richter
WILDE. As in Oscar. This is another film by Brian Gilbert,
who brought us Tom and Viv and seems quite fascinated by
the secret bodice-ripping lives of literary figures. Though Wilde's
life is anything but secret. The usual high points are visited
here--his marriage, the discovery of his "true nature"
with the help of a young relative, his Platonic love for boys,
in particular Lord Alfred Douglas (Jude Law), who led to his downfall
and eventual imprisonment for immoral behavior or debauchery or
whatever they called sex between men then. As always when visiting
the 19th century, there's lots of transgressive sex. Here we have
"buggering" in soft focus and some hot, deep, man-on-boy
mouth kissing. Nothing else stands out in this movie; I found
Stephen Fry's Wilde a bit too trembly and vulnerable for the great
wit who loved irony. Still, Wilde will do for evenings
when Masterpiece Theater has been preempted; though you have to
agree, if it were really good, they would have thought of a better
title. --Richter
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