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Apart from combat sequences and episodes of menace
that might disturb the very youngest viewers, the charming animated
adventure "Astro Boy" (Summit) makes for virtually unobjectionable
family entertainment.
With its exemplary titular hero (voice of Freddie Highmore)
embodying both innocence and altruism, as he struggles to discover his
place in the world, director and co-writer (with Timothy Hyde Harris)
David Bowers' adaptation of Osamu Tezuka's internationally popular
comic book series—first published in 1951 and previously the
inspiration for three television cartoon series—is by turns amusing,
exciting and poignant.
As explained in the opening scenes, narrated by Charlize
Theron, this chronicle of Astro Boy's origins is set in futuristic
Metro City, a pristine section of the earth that was launched into the
atmosphere as the rest of the planet became overrun with debris, and
that now hovers in splendor over the grim global junkyard below. Metro
City's economy is based on the toil of an underclass of mechanical
servants who are treated with disdain by their human masters.
Though a key player in developing robotic technology,
government scientist Dr. Tenma (voice of Nicolas Cage) shares the
widespread prejudice against these mechanized drudges. But his gentle
son, Toby (also voiced by Highmore), shows greater sensitivity.
Brilliant and inquisitive, but neglected by his work-obsessed
dad, Toby sneaks into Tenma's lab to witness the demonstration of his
latest project, an armaments advance of particular interest to Metro
City's militaristic leader, President Stone (voice of Donald
Sutherland). In a tragic mishap, the boy is killed.
Heartbroken, Tenma uses Toby's DNA to create an
identical-looking robot replica programmed with the lad's memories and
personality traits, but also equipped with super powers. Finding the
new Toby a painful reminder of the original rather than a replacement,
Tenma swiftly rejects him, however, crushing the hybrid boy's inherited
feelings of love and filial devotion.
Abandoned to his fate, the misfit youth sets off on a series of
adventures that see him adopted by a band of good-hearted ragamuffins,
who give him his heroic Space Age moniker, manipulated by the waifs'
Fagin-like adult mentor, Hamegg (voice of Nathan Lane), and
relentlessly pursued by Stone, who's intent on using Astro Boy's
life-giving energy source for weaponry.
Besides the confrontations and perilous situations cited above,
parents may also be concerned by one scene that plays with punning
humor on the custom of saying grace and by another where an endangered
robot displays a warning to the effect that he has just had an
emergency disposal of fluid.
But likely to have a far greater impact on their young
companions are the sustained themes of overcoming discrimination and
indifference to the feelings of others, of resisting violence except
when necessitated by self-defense and of triumph through loyal,
self-sacrificing love.
The film contains considerable stylized violence, some menace
and brief instances of vaguely irreverent and mildly scatological
humor. The USCCB Office for Film & Broadcasting classification is
A-II—adults and adolescents. The Motion Picture Association of
America rating is PG—parental guidance suggested. Some material may
not be suitable for children.
***
Mulderig is on the staff of the Office for Film & Broadcasting of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.
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Acclaimed on its publication and so popular since
that it has never gone out of print, Charles Dickens' classic 1843
novella "A Christmas Carol" also has provided the basis for innumerable
stage and screen adaptations.
The latest, a lavish and well-crafted 3-D animated version from
Disney, though free of objectionable content, does feature images and
special effects likely to disturb sensitive youngsters.
As faithfully retold by writer-director Robert Zemeckis, this
is the familiar story of miserly misanthrope Ebenezer Scrooge (voice of
Jim Carrey), who notoriously regards Christmas as a "humbug."
After spending the eve of the holiday making his much-put-upon
clerk Bob Cratchit (voice of Gary Oldman) miserable, and rebuffing the
cheerful invitation of his nephew, Fred (voice of Colin Firth), to a
celebratory family dinner, Scrooge retires to his dreary mansion for a
supper of cheap gruel. But his routine is interrupted by the tortured
specter of his late business partner, Jacob Marley (also voiced by
Oldman).
Chained to heavy money chests symbolic of the greediness that
marked his life, and condemned to wander in eternal restlessness,
Marley—a grimly decaying animated corpse— warns Scrooge that he is
headed for a similar doom, and that he will soon be visited by three
spirits who will try to persuade him to change his ways.
These, of course, are the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Yet to Come, all three voiced by Carrey.
The first, who appears as a flickering candle, returns Scrooge
to the scene of his lonely childhood and his apprenticeship under
fun-loving Mr. Fezziwig (voice of Bob Hoskins), during which he fell in
love with gentle Belle (voice of Robin Wright Penn). As the sprite also
forces Scrooge to recall, however, their romance was eventually ruined
by his idolatrous love of money.
The Ghost of Christmas Present, a jolly, thriving figure, gives
Scrooge a "heavenly perspective" on current events, revealing the
straitened circumstances in which Cratchit's meager salary leaves his
family, especially his sickly, crippled, but ever-chipper son Tiny Tim
(Oldman's voice as well), and the pitying mockery with which Scrooge is
discussed by Fred and his guests.
With the approach of midnight, the Ghost of Christmas Present
suddenly turns corpselike and is replaced by the last apparition, a
black-robed, silent skeleton. The vision he conjures sees Scrooge
chased for his life by a runaway horse-drawn hearse and forced to
experience his own unmourned death.
Such eerie elements, though present in the original, make this
unsuitable viewing for the most impressionable. But heartier family
members of almost any age will be delighted by a sweeping survey of
Victorian London, from its coziest firesides to its gloomiest
graveyards.
As for the central conversion story, its Christian context is
unabashedly detailed in the lyrics of carolers, in the lingering view
of the ornamental cross above a city church and in the upbeat piety of
Tiny Tim, whose jaunty prayer, "God bless us, every one," serves as the
final line of novella and script alike.
"A Christmas Carol" will be shown on both Imax and conventional screens.
The USCCB Office for Film & Broadcasting classification is
A-I—general patronage. The Motion Picture Association of America
rating is PG—parental guidance suggested. Some material may not be
suitable for children.
*****
Mulderig is on the staff of the Office for Film & Broadcasting of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.
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Where the Wild Things Are
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Though it's based on a children's book, and though
objectionable elements are minimal, the intriguing fantasy Where the
Wild Things Are (Warner Bros.), which combines live action, puppetry
and computer-generated animation, is hardly a film for kids.
Instead, director and co-writer (with Dave Eggers) Spike
Jonze's subtle adaptation of Maurice Sendak's classic tale—winner of
the prestigious Caldecott Medal in 1964, the year after its first
publication—is a wistful adult meditation on the interior struggles
of youth.
Those battles are fought out within the mind and heart of Max
(newcomer Max Records in a compelling performance), a rambunctious but
lonely suburban 9-year-old whose excess energy is devoted to scaring
his dog, pelting his older sister's friends with snowballs and
generally driving his divorced mother (Catherine Keener) up the wall.
Yet Max is also vulnerable, as he shows when Mom seemingly
neglects him in favor of some quiet time with her boyfriend (Mark
Ruffalo). Volatile Max's gentle pleas for attention quickly give way to
a tantrum, and the resulting confrontation ends with him running away
from home.
At this point, mundane reality is overtaken by the logic of
dreams as Max—dressed in his favorite outfit, a fuzzy wolf costume,
and seemingly undaunted by the fact that it's nighttime—enters a
nearby wood, discovers an empty sailboat and promptly sets off across a
vast body of water. After an arduous journey, he arrives at a
mysterious island where bright bonfires mark the abode of the titular
Wild Things.
This close-knit but emotionally unstable community of giants
features a variety of personalities, each of whom reflects either some
aspect of Max's real circumstances or of his unsettled psychological
state.
Affectionate but easily offended Carol (voice of James
Gandolfini), for instance, mirrors Max's yearning for love and
security, while loner K.W. (voice of Lauren Ambrose)—who wavers
between belonging to the group and spending time outside it, much to
Carol's sorrow, since he secretly pines for her—represents both
Max's adolescent sister, who seems to be abandoning their once-close
relationship as she matures, and his own aspirations for independence.
There's a melancholy tone to the proceedings as we witness Max
symbolically working through his Freudian conflicts via the constant
squabbling and alternatively creative and destructive behavior of the
Wild Things. Early on, Max is crowned their king on the strength of
some fibs about his prowess. But his ready assurance that his rule will
make everyone happy looks increasingly rash, since his every action
manages to alienate one or another of his new subjects.
Though youngsters addicted to gadgets and demanding distraction
will likely be bored, this delicate portrait of the fears and joys of
growing up is calculated to charm viewers willing to invest the
necessary concentration.
"Where the Wild Things Are" will be shown on both Imax and conventional screens.
The film contains occasional menace and a few mild oaths. The
USCCB Office for Film & Broadcasting classification is A-II—adults and adolescents. The Motion Picture Association of America
rating is PG—parental guidance suggested. Some material may not be
suitable for children.
****
Mulderig is on the staff of the Office for Film & Broadcasting of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.
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One emerges from "Amelia" (Fox Searchlight), a
handsome, overly mellifluous biography of Amelia Earhart, certain of
one thing: The legendary aviatrix, played by Oscar-winner Hilary Swank,
was impossible to pin down.
Those
expecting a stirring portrait of a feminist pioneer—Earhart was born in
1897 and disappeared over the Pacific in 1937—will be disappointed by
the ethereal ambiguity offered here. Aviation
buffs will also feel dissatisfied, as her achievements aren't put into
historical context or rendered as especially thrilling. The long and
short of it: She yearned to fly and be free. But that much we knew
going in.
As a love story, "Amelia" offers a positive message about
matrimony, even while failing to add dimension to
Earhart's relationship with her promoter/husband George Putnam
(Richard Gere). Their unconventional union was tested and ultimately
strengthened by her intimate rapport with aeronautics executive Gene
Vidal (Ewan McGregor).
We're never clear why she and Putnam fell in love. Yet after
warning she wasn't interested in a conventional marriage and then
straying with Vidal, she feels guilty and atones. For his part,
publisher and PR innovator Putnam realizes he has exploited his wife
for commercial gain.
No one could expect director Mira Nair, working from a script
based on two literary biographies—East to the Dawn by Susan Butler
and The Sound of Wings by Mary Lovell—to present the definitive
take on Earhart's personality, let alone to solve the mystery of her
fate. But there's a degree of ambivalence and sketchiness to Nair's
film that proves frustrating.
The allure of flying is only apparent at a poetic level, which
helps fuel doubts about Earhart's piloting skills as well as
intimations that "Lady Lindy" was most accomplished at being a
celebrity. We rarely see her behind the controls of an airplane, and
when we do she's usually gazing out the cockpit window with an
amateurishly dreamy look in her eyes or fretting as danger looms.
Covering the period of 1928 through July 1937—with two brief
flashbacks to Earhart as a gap-toothed tomboy in Kansas—the film
takes off courtesy of a lush score and well-photographed scenery, yet
never climbs high enough or travels as far as it might.
The scenario cuts back and forth between Earhart's fateful
attempt to circumnavigate the globe with navigator Fred Noonan
(Christopher Eccleston) and her exploits from the time Putnam selected
her to be the first woman to fly across the Atlantic—as a passenger.
Depicting her demise was always going to be the film's major challenge
and the modestly nail-biting climax refrains from any radical
conjecture while using available evidence to identify likely causes.
Nair and company succeed neither in portraying her charisma
and sense of derring-do nor in baring her faults. The viewer comes away
feeling Earhart was a dilettante and thus unable to control her
destiny—a suspicion that undercuts the romance, tragedy and adventure
in one
fell swoop.
The
film contains discreetly handled adulterous and premarital
sexual situations, one use of crass language, and one of profanity. The
USCCB Office for Film & Broadcasting classification is A-II—adults
and adolescents. The Motion Picture Association of America
rating is PG—parental guidance suggested. Some material may not be
suitable for children.
****
McCarthy is a guest reviewer for the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops' Office for Film & Broadcasting.
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Horror and science fiction writer Richard Matheson's
1970 short story "Button, Button"—already adapted for television as
an episode of "The Twilight Zone" in the mid-1980s—comes to the big
screen as "The Box" (Warner Bros.).
But writer-director Richard Kelly's intelligently challenging,
if over-elaborate, reflection on ethical choices and consequences is
suitable only for spiritually well-grounded adult viewers, since the
latter stages of this evolving parable include actions that would be
blatantly unacceptable in a more realistic context.
Slightly updated to Christmastime of the U.S. bicentennial
year, this is the tale of Norma (Cameron Diaz) and Arthur (James
Marsden) Lewis, happily married suburbanites in Richmond, Va., and
their preteen son Walter (Sam Oz Stone).
With teacher Norma facing budget cuts at her school, and NASA
engineer Arthur uncertain of his future, cash is short, and the planned
surgery to repair Norma's foot, deformed by a doctor's malpractice
years before, may have to be postponed.
Suddenly, though, the arrival of a mysterious package on their
doorstep, and the subsequent visit of one Arlington Steward (a haunting
Frank Langella)—the equally mysterious, and horrifically disfigured
stranger who left it there—present the couple with a stark
temptation.
The package contains a simple-looking device, a wooden box with
a glass dome enclosing a red button. If either Norma or Arthur pushes
the button, Steward explains, two things will happen: Someone unknown
to them will die, and they will receive a tax-free payment of $1
million. They have 24 hours to decide what to do.
As the sometimes improbable plot unfolds, we learn that
Steward's unsettling appearance (most of the left side of his face has
been reduced to raw tissue) is the result of burns sustained in a
lightning strike, an event that also put him in touch with those he
calls his "employers," unspecified beings—perhaps extraterrestrial,
perhaps heavenly in a different sense—who use him as their agent in
testing human morality.
Amid an increasingly eerie atmosphere, meanwhile, Norma and
Arthur are caught up in a surreal conspiracy reminiscent of the one
surrounding Mia Farrow's character in "Rosemary's Baby." Against this
background, the shifting forces of fundamental decency, momentary
impetuosity, human interdependence and the inexorable demands of
justice are pitted in a mostly intriguing drama, though one that
requires careful discernment.
The film contains mature themes, complex moral issues, a few
uses of profanity and a couple of sexual references. The USCCB Office
for Film & Broadcasting classification is L— limited adult
audience, films whose problematic content many adults would find
troubling. The Motion Picture Association of America rating is PG-13—parents strongly cautioned. Some material may be inappropriate for
children under 13.
*****
Mulderig is on the staff of the Office for Film & Broadcasting of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.
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Filmmaker Michael Moore, who first brought his
idiosyncratic but effective style of cinematic advocacy to bear on
economic questions in his 1989 directorial debut "Roger & Me"—focusing on the role of General Motors' management in the decline of
his hometown of Flint, Mich.—takes on the American entrepreneurial
system as a whole in the ironically titled "Capitalism: A Love Story"
(Overture).
The result is a hard-hitting but at times overly simplistic documentary.
Moore is at his best in chronicling the effects of economic
dysfunction on vulnerable individuals and families, as a large group of
Chicago factory workers are summarily thrown into unemployment or a
farming couple faces foreclosure. And he manages to uncover more
unusual—and more outrageous—examples of corporate greed gone
haywire.
It's disturbing to learn, for instance, that a number of
airline pilots supplement their meager paychecks with food stamps or by
selling their blood plasma, and that large corporations secretly take
out life insurance policies on low-level employees, calculating that a
certain percentage of them will end up as—to quote the callous and
insulting phrase used in the companies' internal documents—"dead
peasants."
But by far the most unsettling story Moore tells involves two
corrupt Wilkes-Barre, Pa., judges who accepted bribes from a local
for-profit juvenile detention facility in exchange for sentencing scores of young people to imprisonment there, often for the most
trivial offenses.
Moore is on shakier ground, though, when he examines economic
history. He idealizes the days when top U.S. earners paid 90 percent
income tax, claiming that this made possible not only the maintenance
of the national infrastructure but the generous contracts under which
unionized employees enjoyed numerous benefits, including free health
and dental care.
He also blames the disappearance of American heavy industry
entirely on the policies of President Ronald Reagan and his first
treasury secretary, Donald Regan.
Ultimately, Moore calls for an economic revolution that would
uproot capitalism completely. In its stead, he seems to favor not the
extreme socialism of the old Soviet system, but a cooperative model of
democracy in the workplace, with each employee and manager an equal
shareholder. Where the initial investment to establish new workplaces
is to be found he fails to mention.
For a spiritual perspective, Moore—who speaks with great
warmth of his Catholic childhood, of the kindly nuns who educated him
and of his admiration for the clergy— interviews two Catholic priests
who are family friends and retired Auxiliary Bishop Thomas J. Gumbleton
of Detroit. The three are unanimous in condemning capitalism as
inherently sinful.
Yet this is not the teaching of the full magisterium, which
instead takes a more moderate stance, recognizing both the efficiencies
of the free market system and its need to be prudently regulated, while
upholding the human dignity of workers, particularly their right to
unionize.
The film contains at least three uses of the F-word and a
couple of crude terms. The USCCB Office for Film & Broadcasting
classification is A-III—adults. The Motion Picture Association of
America rating is R—restricted; under 17 requires accompanying
parent or adult guardian.
***
Mulderig is on the staff of the Office for Film & Broadcasting of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.
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Cirque du Freak: The Vampire's Assistant
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In keeping with its unwieldy title, the gently
ghoulish "Cirque du Freak: The Vampire's Assistant" (Universal) is an
unfocused adventure tale that gets off to a stylish start, but bogs
down in a meandering story line and overlong fight scenes.
Along the way, director and co-writer (with Brian Helgeland)
Paul Weitz's adaptation of three novels in Darren Shan's "Cirque du
Freak" series of children's books offers a bleak outlook on
conventional family life.
Thus, strait-laced, small-town high school student Darren
(newcomer Chris Massoglia)— whose rather macabre coming-of-age story
provides the basic arc of the narrative—is saddled with overbearing
parents (Don McManus and Colleen Camp) who demand that he keep his
grades up in preparation for the rat-race future they have mapped out
for him.
Darren's longtime best friend Steve (Josh Hutcherson), by
contrast, is neglected by his widowed, alcoholic mother. As a result,
he's a rebellious teen who constantly derides Darren for his timid
conformity and challenges him to break the rules.
Spider-loving Darren and vampire-obsessed Steve share a taste
for the outlandish, and both are bored with life in their bland burg.
So when an unseen rider in a passing car— a black-and-violet Rolls
Royce, no less—drops a flier at their feet advertising the
one-night-only performance of the titular circus, they're thrilled.
One of the featured acts in this sideshow, along with
beard-sprouting Madame Truska (Salma Hayek) and Japanese giant Mr. Tall
(Ken Watanabe) is skilled spider trainer Larten Crepsley (a commanding
John C. Reilly), whom Steve recognizes as a 200-year-old bloodsucker
he's seen in an occult book.
Through a series of complications not worth unpacking, Crepsley—who turns out to belong to a race of human-friendly, plasma quaffers
who anesthetize their victims and drink only a smidgen of blood at a
time—becomes Darren's mentor after transforming the lad into a
so-called "half vampire." (Unlike the full-blown variety, Darren can
survive in daylight.)
Steve, though, ends up in the thrall of a group of homicidal
vein-drainers known as the Vampaneze, which is unfortunate since
they're locked in a centuries-old conflict with Crepsley and his
softhearted ilk, making the two young pals, perforce, implacable
enemies.
As the undead and their proteges throw each other around with
Herculean force and inflict the occasional dagger wound, the tolerant
circus folk—including Darren's new sidekick, Evra the Snake Boy
(Patrick Fugit), and his love interest, Rebecca (Jessica Carlson)—provide the young demi-Dracula with an alternate family to match the
alternative dad he's found in Crepsley, making, so the script would
seem to imply, his journey to the dark side worthwhile.
After all, to paraphrase some heavy-handed moralizing Rebecca
dispenses, "It's not what you are, it's who you are" that counts,
Count.
The film contains considerable hand-to-hand and knife violence,
some crude and crass language and a pornography reference. The USCCB
Office for Film & Broadcasting classification is A-III—adults.
The Motion Picture Association of America rating is PG-13—parents
strongly cautioned. Some material may be inappropriate for children
under 13.
****
Mulderig is on the staff of the Office for Film & Broadcasting of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.
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Though much of its action is set at an idyllic island
getaway in the South Pacific, the mostly dull, sexually wayward marital
comedy "Couples Retreat" (Universal/Relativity) is hardly a visit to
paradise.
Before reaching the safe shore of its morally acceptable,
fidelity-affirming wrap-up, viewers have to endure waves of constantly
suggestive, occasionally smutty humor and a tide of New Age
psychobabble.
Presiding over the resort—where the usual recreational
activities are interspersed with sessions of hippy-dippy marriage
therapy—is French-born free spirit Marcel (Jean Reno). Impressed by
Marcel's reputation as a renowned "couples whisperer," suburbanites
Jason (Jason Bateman) and Cynthia (Kristen Bell), whose bond has been
strained by their infertility and by the round of treatments they've
been pursuing to remedy it, are certain that he alone can salvage their
union.
But the pair can only afford Marcel's luxurious retreat at a
group rate, so they cajole a few of their friends to join them on the
journey with the promise—false as it turns out— that the others
can skip the relationship repair work and spend all their time chasing
fun in the sun.
Since Dave (Vince Vaughn) and Ronnie (Malin Akerman) believe
themselves to have a perfectly happy marriage, and since Joey (Jon
Favreau) and Lucy (Kristin Davis) want to conceal the fact that they're
about to split, they're chagrined to be told, shortly after arrival,
that everyone must participate in analysis or they will all—Jason
and Cynthia included—be sent packing.
As for Shane (Faizon Love), he's equally put out, since he's
already separated from his wife and has his recently acquired, much
younger girlfriend Trudy (Kali Hawk) in tow.
Predictably, first-time director Peter Billingsley's debut sees
its ensemble of characters rediscovering their love for each other or
learning to work harder at being good spouses. But Marcel's method,
which rests on concepts like connecting with your inner animal spirit,
and features sessions of yoga and massage played for blue humor, is
obviously not a credible substitute for faith as a basis for lifelong
commitment.
The film contains strong sexual content, including brief but
aberrant adulterous activity, fleeting nongraphic sexual activity
within marriage, a flash of rear nudity, many sexually themed jokes,
and some crude and much crass language. The USCCB Office for Film &
Broadcasting classification is L—limited adult audience, films whose
problematic content many adults would find troubling. The Motion
Picture Association of America rating is PG-13—parents strongly
cautioned. Some material may be inappropriate for children under 13.
***
Mulderig is on the staff of the Office for Film & Broadcasting of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.
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In the decade since "The Blair Witch Project" hit it
big at the box office, several horror films—including, most
recently, Oren Peli's "Paranormal Activity"—have followed its recipe
for success by using video camera footage to lend realism to a
fictional story. "The Fourth Kind" (Universal) makes the leap to
presenting such scenes as "actual" documentation of real-life events,
specifically a rash of supposed alien abductions in remote Nome,
Alaska.
The occasional jolt aside, the results in this slow-moving, largely ineffective thriller are not especially convincing.
In keeping with his overall conceit, writer-director Olatunde
Osunsanmi introduces us to two versions of his main character,
psychologist Abigail Tyler: the wheelchair-bound and deeply spooked
"original"—whom he gravely interviews—and, for purposes of
supposed dramatization, actress Milla Jovovich. Back in 2000, we learn,
the recently widowed Tyler was treating several Nome residents for a
sleep disorder when she discovered that their symptoms were startlingly
similar.
All, for instance, reported being stared at, to nerve-jangling
effect, by a mysterious white owl. Once hypnotized to clarify their dim
memories, however, at least two of Tyler's subjects came to the
agonizing realization—amid, as we're shown, much screaming and
thrashing about—that the gimlet-eyed bird was merely a psychological
substitute for malevolent visitors of an extraterrestrial variety.
In addition to smelling like putrefied cinnamon, according to
one victim's description, and speaking Sumerian—a language extinct
among humans for millennia—these interplanetary baddies make a habit
of whisking folk off to their spacecraft and experimenting on them in
all manner of unspeakable ways, then returning them to their beds with
their consciousness of the experience all but wiped clean.
Convinced that the intruders were to blame for her husband's
death, and anxious to pursue her history-altering discovery, Tyler
turns for support to friendly colleague Dr. Abel Campos (Elias Koteas).
But Campos, like local lawman Sheriff August (Will Patton)—who comes
into conflict with Tyler after one of her patients goes on a murderous
post-hypnotic rampage—proves stubbornly skeptical.
Amid the hokey proceedings, the script makes a fleeting,
potentially troublesome foray into theology, with an expert on Sumerian
civilization asserting that the biblical accounts of the creation and
the flood are derived from pagan myths, and the seemingly demonic
aliens making garbled claims to divinity.
But Tyler—who is earlier shown extemporizing an explicitly
Christian grace before a family dinner—sets things right, at least
on the second topic, in one of the generally weak script's more
worthwhile exchanges.
The film contains some violence, including a short scene of
gory murder, brief nongraphic marital lovemaking, a half-dozen uses of
profanity and a few crude terms. The USCCB Office for Film &
Broadcasting classification is A-III—adults. Motion Picture
Association of America rating, PG-13—parents strongly cautioned.
Some material may be inappropriate for children under 13.
******
Mulderig is on the staff of the Office for Film & Broadcasting of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.
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NEW YORK (CNS)—"Vengeance is mine" has been a popular film theme
through the years, almost always leaving out the crucial last three
words of that quotation from St. Paul's Letter to the Romans: "says the
Lord."
So in "Law Abiding Citizen" (Overture), when Gerard Butler's
Clyde Shelton announces, while on a murderous rampage, "It's gonna be
biblical," it's just one of many nonsensical bleats in this brutish
fantasy about one man's search for "justice." Director F. Gary Gray and
screenwriter Kurt Wimmer begin with an homage to the old hyper-violent
"Death Wish" films and, after 90 minutes of gushing body parts, concoct
an implausible ending that looks like it was borrowed from an old
"Scooby-Doo" cartoon.
Shelton's rage begins when his wife and young daughter are
murdered by two thugs in a home invasion. Justice in a Philadelphia
court means a deal with the prosecution—one thug gets the death
penalty but the other gets just five years in prison.
That's not good enough for Shelton, of course, but he's no
ordinary revenge-seeker with a gun. He's a specialist in the dark art
of killing terrorists, and takes out his anger not only on the
criminals, but also on everyone in the court system, using all manner
of devious technology—even from a prison cell.
Shelton makes a series of implausible "deals" with prosecutor
Nick Rice (Jamie Foxx) to prevent more killings, but the strangely
impassive Rice never gets there in time as Shelton gets ever more
inventive.
The film contains a rape, explicit torture, gun and knife
violence, explosions, rear male nudity, and pervasive crass and rough
language. The USCCB Office for Film & Broadcasting classification
is O—morally offensive. The Motion Picture Association of America
rating is R—restricted; under 17 requires accompanying parent or
adult guardian.
*****
Jensen is a guest reviewer for the Office for Film & Broadcasting of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.
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The Men Who Stare at Goats
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The Army's Cold War-era experimentation with psychic
and paranormal techniques of warfare provides the seemingly outlandish,
yet fact-based premise for "The Men Who Stare at Goats" (Overture).
Director Grant Heslov's adaptation of British journalist Jon
Ronson's 2004 best-seller of the same title registers as a mildly
diverting, though disorganized comedy. But this satiric tale of
soldierly excess also showcases pantheistic New Age spirituality and
implicitly condones its two main characters' indulgence in some
questionable high jinks.
Ronson's fictional stand-in is Ann Arbor, Mich., reporter Bob
Wilton (Ewan McGregor). After his wife dumps him for a colleague,
Wilton determines to prove his manly mettle by signing on to cover the
Iraq War, then in its early "Mission Accomplished" stage.
Stranded in Kuwait, and shunned by his successfully embedded
peers, Wilton is scrambling to find a way into the war zone when he
encounters eccentric military veteran Lyn Cassady (George Clooney).
Though Cassady is posing as a civilian businessman, Wilton recognizes
his name as that of a legendary figure in the Reagan-epoch New Earth
Army, a secret unit dedicated to cultivating "warrior monks" endowed
with such occult powers as remote viewing (the ability to see
far-distant objects or events) and invisibility.
Cassady is headed in country and agrees to take Wilton along.
As their problem-plagued journey—which involves them, successively,
in a kidnapping incident, various car accidents, a spell stranded in
the desert, and an urban shootout—progresses, Cassady regales Wilton
with the history of the New Earth Army's rise and fall.
Founded by Vietnam vet-turned-hippie Bill Django (Jeff
Bridges), the corps—its real-life prototype was known as the First
Earth Battalion—flourished until the selfish machinations of a
newcomer, Cassady's resentful rival Larry Hooper (Kevin Spacey, playing
wonderfully easy-to-hate), jeopardized its future.
As we see in flashbacks, Django's training program included the
group recitation of a prayer to the earth, one of the pagan devotions
that his favored parotege Cassady continues to practice. We're also
shown that among the transformative therapies Django sampled during his
spiritual metamorphosis was nude co-ed hot-tubbing, though the scene is
a short and relatively restrained one.
Peter Straughan's script effectively parodies various aspects
of military psychology and behavior. But at times the outlook is
woefully simplistic, as in a late-reel scene implying that all Iraqi
prisoners of war are abused innocents who should be liberated
forthwith. And the moral implications of a practical joke involving
narcotics are ignored in favor of portraying it as an amusing lark.
The film contains rear and brief upper female nudity, neo-pagan
religious practices, drug use, a dozen instances of profanity, and
frequent rough and crude language. The USCCB Office for Film &
Broadcasting classification is A-III—adults. The Motion Picture
Association of America rating is R—restricted. Under 17 requires
accompanying parent or adult guardian.
******
Mulderig is on the staff of the Office for Film & Broadcasting of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.
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Michael Jackson's This Is It
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It's best to approach the posthumous documentary
"Michael Jackson's This Is It" (Columbia) with limited expectations.
Director Kenny Ortega's energetic, largely unobjectionable
tribute to the controversial "king of pop" is narrowly focused and
entirely worshipful, casting little light on the eccentric, if not
inscrutable, personality of one of the late 20th century's most iconic
entertainers. But the filmmaker does succeed in providing insight into
the talent, vision and discipline that lay behind Jackson's global—and long-lasting—professional success.
Using footage originally intended for other purposes, Ortega
captures the planning and rehearsals for the titular series of comeback
concerts, scheduled to begin in London in July, but forestalled by
Jackson's untimely death at age 50 the previous month.
Jackson is explicit about holding back on both his singing and
dancing, saving his energy for the audiences who—as it turned out—were never to see him perform. Yet the appeal of his wide-ranging
material, which easily embraced rhythm and blues, rock, disco and even
the occasional heavy-metal guitar riff, remains unmistakable.
Fragments of a video cleverly incorporating Jackson into a
series of scenes from old movies is particularly entertaining, while a
montage of his career played out as he sings one of his childhood hits,
"I'll Be There"—first recorded in his Motown days as the diminutive
frontman for the Jackson 5—proves poignant. And it's intriguing to
witness both Jackson's intuitive skill in guiding his backup musicians
and the understated, quirky wit he sometimes reveals.
With his breathless voice and shy manner, Jackson displays an
apparently sincere, though nonspecific, faith as he frequently invokes
God's blessing on his collaborators and on the work he shares with
them. He also seems somewhat taken aback when—in the closest anyone
on-screen comes to verbal vulgarity—one of his fellow performers
uses the term "booty" in a way that doesn't refer to footwear.
The only other factor likely to be of concern to parents of
young fans is the mildly risque nature of some of the dancing,
especially a characteristic move that mimics the self-adjustment
sometimes indulged in by baseball players.
The film contains some skimpy costuming and suggestive dancing
and at least one vaguely crass term. The USCCB Office for Film &
Broadcasting classification is A-II— adults and adolescents. The
Motion Picture Association of America rating is PG— parental guidance
suggested. Some material may not be suitable for children.
****
Mulderig is on the staff of the Office for Film & Broadcasting of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.
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As it did in both 1999's "The Blair Witch Project"
and last year's "Cloverfield," the use of a video camera to tell an
ostensibly fact-based horror tale makes for an unsettling sense of
immediacy—and jangled audience nerves—in "Paranormal Activity"
(Paramount).
Writer-director Oren Peli's feature debut, made for a tiny
fraction of the normal Hollywood budget, is mostly gore-free, playing
instead—subtly and quite effectively— on viewers' primal fears of
the unseen. But his script fails to show the same restraint with regard
to language and sexual topics.
Our amateur cameraman is ordinary San Diego yuppie Micah (Micah
Sloat), who has purchased the gadget to document some disturbing
phenomena that have been taking place recently in the house he shares
with girlfriend Katie (Katie Featherston). (As Micah later puts it, to
Katie's visible annoyance, the couple is "engaged to be engaged.")
Katie, who tells of being pursued by an evil spirit off and on
since childhood, is wary of the supernatural and enlists the aid of a
psychic (Mark Fredrichs), though he eventually proves ineffectual.
Micah, by contrast, begins by treating the situation as a lark, but
becomes increasingly confrontational with the invisible presence,
bullheadedly regarding its unidentified designs on Katie as a challenge
to his machismo.
The fact that most of the taping is done in their bedroom,
since the entity is particularly active while they're asleep, offers
Micah the opportunity for several off-color suggestions, and we witness
the immediate aftermath of a coupling about which he boasts.
Additionally, as he and Katie become more and more panicked, their fear
leads to a stream of obscenity, including at least 35 uses of the
F-word.
The film contains some sexual content, including a premarital
situation, an off-screen encounter and a few jokes and references, a
half-dozen uses of profanity, pervasive rough and crude terms, and at
least two obscene gestures. The USCCB Office for Film &
Broadcasting classification is L—limited adult audience, films whose
problematic content many adults would find troubling. The Motion
Picture Association of America rating is R—restricted; under 17
requires accompanying parent or adult guardian.
******
Mulderig is on the staff of the Office for Film & Broadcasting of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.
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The blood flood continues in the predictably gruesome
horror sequel "Saw VI" (Lionsgate), director Kevin Greutert's needless
extension of a noisome franchise.
This attempt at social relevance would be laughable if the results were not so grisly.
The latest victims in the sadistic life-or-death games initiated
by the deceased psychopath Jigsaw (Tobin Bell), and now being secretly
carried on by police detective Hoffman (Costas Mandylor)—even as he
pretends to investigate the crimes—include two predatory real estate
lenders and William (Peter Outerbridge), a coldhearted health insurance
executive.
For the bulk of the 90-minute running time, we witness William
enduring a gauntlet of torturous tests by which his bones are crushed,
his hands mangled and his body scalded. In between, Patrick Melton and
Marcus Dunstan's script resurrects Jigsaw via a series of flashbacks
and at least one hallucination so he can engage in ponderous moral
mutterings about teaching people to value life by forcing them to
confront death.
But such philosophical window dressing can hardly disguise the true nature of this callous descent into gratuitous cruelty.
The film contains pervasive gory violence, including graphic
torture and mutilation, a half-dozen profanities, at least 40 uses of
the F-word, and some crude and crass language. The USCCB Office for
Film & Broadcasting classification is O— morally offensive. The
Motion Picture Association of America rating is R—restricted; under
17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian.
****
Mulderig is on the staff of the Office for Film & Broadcasting of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.
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"The Stepfather" (Screen Gems) is director Nelson
McCormick's tedious remake of Joseph Rubin's 1987 chillfest of the same
title which, like its two sequels, received an "O" classification from
the Office for Film & Broadcasting. Though the homicidal episodes
in this misguided attempt at a reboot are relatively restrained, the
moral outlook of the latest version earns it a similar thumbs-down.
Returning home from the military school to which he has been
consigned for past unruliness, Michael (Penn Badgley) finds his
divorced mother, Susan (Sela Ward), living with, and engaged to, David
(Dylan Walsh), a seemingly affable but strangely resume-free fellow she
met in a grocery store.
As the audience knows from the opening scenes, and as Michael
gradually begins to suspect, David's smiles and pro-family sentiments
disguise a murderous agenda, though no coherent motive is ever
suggested for his pursuit of it. With viewers thus deliberately tipped
off to the mystery man's true identity from the start, the only
potential for suspense lies in waiting for the other characters—a
remarkably dense lot—to catch up with the audience.
In the interval, we're introduced to Michael's girlfriend,
Kelly (Amber Heard), whose wardrobe seems to consist almost entirely of
bikinis and underwear, and to Susan's sister, who is involved in a
lesbian relationship that J.S. Cardone's script implicitly and
matter-of-factly endorses.
Though scenes of Michael and Kelly clinching on his bed or in
the backyard pool are not overly explicit, the fact that both are still
in high school suggests that such activity is not only maritally but
developmentally premature.
The film contains a benign view of homosexual acts,
cohabitation, brief nongraphic nonmarital (possibly underage) sexual
activity, moderate criminal violence, a half-dozen uses of profanity,
and a few crude and crass terms. The USCCB Office for Film &
Broadcasting classification is O—morally offensive. The Motion
Picture Association of America rating is PG-13—parents strongly
cautioned. Some material may be inappropriate for children under 13.
*****
Mulderig is on the staff of the Office for Film & Broadcasting of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.
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Eye on Entertainment Reviews
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