Category Archives: New In Theaters

Reviews of what’s out now

Sometimes When We Punch

Manny

by George Wolf

So, has Mayweather agreed to fight Pacquiao yet? While we’re waiting, which member of the U.S. Congress do you think would be most likely to get in the ring and/or croon 70s yacht rock ballads?

These are some of the questions brought to mind by Manny, a surprisingly rich and entertaining look at the life of boxing champion Manny Pacquiao.

Pacquiao, the only fighter in history to win titles in eight different weight classes, grew up dirt poor in the Philippines, surrounded by constant violence from the civil war that raged during the 1980s. He ran away while still a young boy, lied about his age and started fighting. Fame, fortune, and national hero status would follow.

Co-director James Gast knows his way around a sports documentary, but while his Oscar-winning When We Were Kings studied one legendary bout (Ali/Foreman 1974), here the focus is one eclectic personality. Charismatic and outgoing, Pacquiao has tried acting, singing, and been elected to Congress in his home nation – all while continuing to rack up victories.

The pace is bright and brisk, keeping you entertained with the many facets of Manny, but leaving little time for sidebars even when they’re warranted. Shady promotional practices are questioned, forgotten, then questioned again and..what are Mark Wahlberg and Jeremy Piven doing here again?

Liam Neeson’s narration leans toward the overly dramatic, which ultimately feels right for a film anchored in the hyperbolic world of boxing. It is Pacquiao himself who proudly proclaims “I came from nowhere and now I am everywhere,” and when you see him in a recording studio cutting a version of “Sometimes When We Touch” with original artist Dan Hill, you can’t help but agree.

 

Verdict-3-5-Stars

 

Song Sung Blue

Song One

By George Wolf

Song One is a lot like the indie folk music that permeates it: pleasant, well-intentioned, and a bit bland.

Anne Hathaway stars as Franny, an anthropology student working overseas who must rush back home to New York after a family tragedy. Her brother Henry, an aspiring musician, is struck by a cab while walking in traffic, and Franny returns to find him in a coma, fighting for his life.

Searching Henry’s apartment for familiar items that might help revive him, Franny finds concert tickets to see a folkie named James Forester (Johnny Flynn). She attends the show, and waits in the autograph line to tell Forester about her brother’s admiration for him. The conversation sparks a sweet friendship, and James is soon visiting Henry and hanging out with Franny and her ex-hippie mom (Mary Steenburgen).

Will friendship turn to romance? Will James find inspiration to cure his songwriter’s block? Bet you can guess.

It’s the debut feature for writer/director Kate Barker-Froyland, and predictability is not what ultimately keeps Song One from resonating. Yes, the terrain is plenty familiar, but this love letter to the power of music suffers most from contrivance and precious few powerful moments.

Flynn’s performance is tender but tentative, and though is he obviously a talented musician, the original songs elicit little more than the nod you give that guy at a party who suddenly finds a guitar. He’s in way over his head alongside Hathaway, who dials it down but can’t keep her natural talent from casting a big shadow over her co star.

There is some promise here. The film is well shot and Barker-Froyland often seems to sense how thin the drama is, pumping it up with enough good intentions to keep any eye-rolling at bay. When her storytelling talent catches up with her technical skills, then she may have a hit on her hands.

 

Verdict-2-5-Stars

 

 

I Don’t

The Wedding Ringer

by Hope Madden

Kevin Hart bears a terrible burden in Hollywood. After salvaging a number of mediocre-to-poor films by sheer virtue of his manic comic talent, Hart has been sentenced to a lifetime of awful scripts and off-peak release dates. Got a weak-to-terrible comedy? Stick Hart in it and release it in January when there’s nothing else to see. Maybe it can be the next Ride Along.

Such is the case with The Wedding Ringer. In what amounts to I Love You, Man meets Hitch, Hart plays a best man for hire. Josh Gad plays the lovable dork about to marry up who has no friends to speak of. He needs to drum up 7 groomsmen to keep from admitting his loserhood to his bride-to-be (Kaley Cuoco-Sweeting).

Oh, but it’s more than that. The Wedding Ringer is the cautionary tale of a man who failed to uphold the sacred man-vow: bros before hos.

How quickly you tire of The Wedding Ringer depends largely on your tolerance for gay jokes and misogynistic humor. Even if you’re a big fan of both, eventually the film’s lazy scripting, derivative plotting and general mean-spiritedness will likely turn you off. It’s hard to believe this dreck came from the same writing/directing team that brought us The Break Up – hardly a masterpiece, but at least a competently written and well acted comedy.

To be fair, this film contains a handful of real laughs, and Hart and Gad – another proven comic talent – have genuine chemistry. But every gag drags on minutes longer than necessary, and most zag into territory too unimaginative to be provocative in its tastelessness.

What if a romantic (or, in this case, bro-mantic) comedy chose not to depict the story of a schlubby guy who deserves help to nab a vacuous hottie? What if, instead, the film paired this decent, funny, worthy-if-overweight and nerdy fella with an equally overweight, worthy, decent woman? I would die of a coronary, that’s what would happen – but I’m probably safe, because where in Hollywood would they find the female lead?

A good movie for Kevin Hart may be just as unlikely, but I would love to see what he could do with a decent script.

 

Verdict-1-5-Stars

Ass Hat Also Works

Blackhat

by Hope Madden

It’s early. Too early to get excited. Blackhat will face a lot of competition as 2015 journeys onward, but it is as strong a contender for worst film of the year as any movie could be. Jesus, is it bad.

Yes, it’s January and the film is about hackers – that’s two big strikes against any major studio film. Remind me, when was the last time a cybercrime film was interesting? You can squeeze only so much tension from shots of fingers on a keyboard and anxious expressions reflecting the blue light of a computer screen. Worse still are those self-indulgent shots of the digital journey inside the hardware – kind of the Tron’s eye view. Unfortunately, director Michael Mann has nothing fresher than these ideas up his sleeve.

Chris Hemsworth plays the world’s greatest hacker, because hackers generally look like Chris Hemsworth. So, right there, authenticity is clearly key to the once capable Mann. As it happens, the Chinese and US governments are working together to solve a convoluted – even asinine – cybercrime, and they need the help of this uncharacteristically fit computer nerd, so they furlough him from prison. If he helps them catch the baddies, he’s free; if not, it’s back to the pen, and something tells me he’s pretty popular on the inside.

Bonus: he’s an expert marksman. Who knew? Must be all those first-person shooter games.

Hemsworth affects some kind of diluted Bronx accent – is that it? Boy, it’s hard to tell just what he’s trying to do with it, and in another film that would be a real distraction. But Blackhat is so loaded with bewildering ridiculousness – from the needlessly overwrought visual style to the utterly incompetent sound editing to the laughable storyline to the astonishingly weak and wooden performances – that an awkwardly unrealistic accent goes almost unnoticed.

Thor isn’t outright terrible, and that’s a real feat. Even the great Viola Davis chokes on this screenplay, and the usually solid Wei Tang (Lust, Caution) struggles too mightily with English to deliver a professional performance. Still, all three are outshone by the listless to the point of parody work of Leehom Wang.

It has been ten long years since Michael Mann made a good movie. The real distinction of his newest effort is simply that it is his worst.

Verdict-1-0-Star

No Absolutes

American Sniper

by George Wolf

Clint Eastwood has the reputation of a low maintenance, “let’s not overthink this” type of director. Sometimes that’s much too apparent, with films lacking in structure, passion and detail.

American Sniper is not one of those films.

This one is tense, heartfelt, wise and weighty, driven by a revelatory lead performance and crafted by a director deeply invested in doing justice to his subject.

It’s based on the autobiography of Chris Kyle, the Navy SEAL credited with being “the deadliest sniper in American history.” The very nature of the story is rife with opportunities for manipulation, be them jingoistic or judgmental, but credit Eastwood and screenwriter Jason Hall with sidestepping them all.

They grab you by the throat with a breathless opening, then expertly work alternating periods of deafening brutality and quiet stillness. In fact, the silence in American Sniper could be easily be regarded as part of the original score, as it is utilized just as effectively as any stirring music.

As Kyle, Bradley Cooper is astonishing and a well-deserved Oscar nominee. Anyone who still thinks he’s just a pretty boy needs to put down People magazine and pay attention to the career Cooper’s been putting together. He’s turned in one stellar, varied performance after another the last few years, and here he commands the screen like never before.

More than just adding weight or adopting Kyle’s Texas drawl, Cooper completely embodies Kyle from the inside out. We see his early determination to fight America’s enemies just as sincerely as we feel the paradox of a man ravaged by the battlefield who can’t feel at home anywhere else. Eastwood smartly gives Cooper many tight close ups and the actor doesn’t flinch, letting his face speak volumes on duty and conflict.

Are there sad ironies in the fact that many who were driven to military service by the events of 9/11 were sent to Iraq? Of course, but this is not the film to explore them, or appease those who will be satisfied only if Kyle is painted as a merciless monster or, conversely, an untouchable hero.  By avoiding these absolutes, American Sniper becomes a gripping look at the other side of The Hurt Locker. It’s an intensely personal story that manages to feel like part of America’s very fabric without selling its soul to do so.

Verdict-4-0-Stars

The Master Returns

Inherent Vice

by Hope Madden

Where Inherent Vice most succeeds is in proving that both Joaquin Phoenix and filmmaker Paul Thomas Anderson can do anything.

Phoenix and Anderson collaborated on their 2012 masterpiece The Master, but the spawn of their latest partnership couldn’t be any more different. You know Phoenix – brooding, troubled, powerful – but comedic? Likeable? Sort of weirdly adorable, even?

That’s what you’ll find in this film.

Phoenix plays Larry “Doc” Sportello, an inebriated private detective working LA in 1970. Sweeter than Hunter S. Thompson, edgier than Dude Lebowski, Doc swims in the vaporous haze of every drug he can grab while he muddles through a series of interconnected and apparently non-paying cases.

Though the screen mostly brims with light hearted debauchery, expect a handful of truly powerful, even difficult scenes. Such tonal shifts can become cinematic weaknesses, but in hands like Anderson’s they pull in the darkness that underlies the choice or circumstances that delivers a person to this life on the fringes.

It comes as no surprise that Anderson can work magic where other directors might falter; the man’s a flawless filmmaker. He’s never made a film that was anything shy of brilliant. Even the Coen brothers made a handful of only-adequate films (The Hudsucker Proxy, The Ladykillers, Intolerable Cruelty). Not Anderson.

Not only can he direct, he can cast. Inherent Vice is an ensemble piece boasting a host of memorable if often tiny (and in some cases possibly imaginary) roles. Reese Witherspoon is a stitch as a straight laced assistant DA. She has a soft spot for loopy hippie PI’s, but draws the line at dirty feet.

Equally fun are Owen Wilson, Benicio Del Toro, Jena Malone and Martin Short. (Martin Short!) But Josh Brolin steals the show.

What each is doing can be a bit fuzzy, but then Doc’s usually a bit fuzzy, and therein lies the genius of this film. It opens, hardboiled noir-style, with a dame from the past showing up on this dick’s doormat with a story to peddle and a request to make.

But from there, puzzling out the details and conspiracies becomes as tough for the viewer as it is for the detective because Doc is as high as a kite.

Rather than a true mystery, the film offers a wonderful image of the political, social and cultural tensions of an era without pointing out that intention. It’s nutty, brilliant stuff.

Verdict-4-0-Stars

Go See Selma

Selma

by Hope Madden

Every year Oscar season sees a healthy number of well made biopics for the Academy’s consideration, and those efforts are very often rewarded: 12 Years a Slave, Lincoln, The Iron Lady. But in the 14 years I’ve been covering film in Columbus, none has been as painfully relevant as Selma.

Ava DuVernay’s account of the civil rights marches in Selma, Alabama doesn’t flinch. You can expect the kind of respectful approach and lovely, muted frames common in historical biopics, but don’t let that lull you. This is not the run of the mill, laudable and forgettable historical art piece, and you’ll know that as you watch little girls descend a staircase within the first few minutes. Selma is a straightforward, well crafted punch to the gut.

Working from a screenplay by first time scripter Paul Webb, DuVernay unveils the strategies, political factions, internal frictions and personal sacrifices at play in the days leading to the final march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama. Yes, she simplifies some complicated issues and relationships, but she is a powerful storyteller at the top of her craft and her choices are always for the good of the film.

The reliable David Oyelowo exceeds expectations as Dr. King. His passionate reserves at the pulpit and the microphone are goosebump perfection, but it’s in the quiet moments that he most impresses, having a bone-deep feel for the man’s weariness as well as his humor, his failings and his faith. It’s a beautiful performance and the heart of a powerful film.

At all times, DuVernay’s film certainly maintains an appropriate reverence for the material. Her cast is more than up to the challenge, beginning with the powerhouse turn from Oyelowo and extending through an impressive, sizeable ensemble. But it’s the filmmaker’s strength in storytelling that elevates this film above others, because DuVernay is never heavy handed, never preachy, and yet every scene is weighted with its historical significance as well as the disheartening immediacy of these events.

The closer black Americans came to the same simple freedoms others took for granted, the more dangerous their lives became, the more anger they faced in the streets, the more outrage was heard from the system that didn’t want – not just yet – to recognize their rights. That shameful time in American history was 1965 – a full fifty years ago. How awful that those wounds feel so fresh.

Verdict-5-0-Stars

Dismantling the Master’s House

Concerning Violence

by Hope Madden

Concerning Violence – a remarkable documentary that looks at the global ramifications of Europe’s history of colonizing African nations – is not for the faint of heart or the slow witted. You may feel like you have to take notes. Director Goran Olsson (The Black Power Mixtape 1967-1975) challenges viewers with unadorned footage and undiluted narration, but for those who can tough it out, the film is as rewarding as it is upsetting (and theoretical).

Olsson’s handiwork can hardly be considered smooth or ornate. He has 9 clips to share (titled Nine Scenes from the Anti-Imperialistic Self-Defense) – news footage highlighting conflicts in Angola, Rhodesia, Liberia and other African nations burdened by colonization. He structures the pieces with onscreen type representing his thesis outline, then connects them with text from Frantz Fanon’s The Wretched of the Earth, a nonfiction work that has inspired anti-colonialist movements the world over. Don’t expect a soothing voiceover or talking head footage to help you fit together the pieces. Rather, expect images of revolution paired with quotes from a 1961 text and little else.

Often enough, Olsson makes the scrappy simplicity of his approach work well, giving the images onscreen the attention they deserve. The footage he’s chosen varies enough to offer a multidimensional image of the effects of colonization: the sense of entitlement in the colonizer; the generations-deep weight of oppression, poverty, limitation and powerlessness in the colonized; the frightening exhilaration in the struggle for independence; the inevitable bloodshed.

Fanon’s words are insightful, often lofty and theoretical, but frequently startling with unexpected, brutal turns of phrase that ensure you’re still paying attention. Olsson knows when to pepper in these more provocative remarks and Lauryn Hill’s narration beautifully underscores the points, whether idealistic or disturbing.

Still, Fanon’s words discount any evil in the inevitable violence of anti-colonialism, although we know that any act of coordinated violence draws true evil to it, and evil participates hand in hand with the noble. In this way, the film oversimplifies the struggle.

The film also fails to contextualize its subject in modern concerns, and that’s a major failing. Olsson rarely pulls punches in his film, yet he seems almost afraid to connect the dots to current political, economic and social conditions. He also starts the film off on weak footing with a bewildering preface that seeks to soften Fanon’s grim themes as it also throws a sideways glance toward the film’s omission of complicating gender politics.

Still, this is a big, big story. Concerning Violence is not meant to entertain, and as an informative look at the repercussions of colonialism, it’s an impressive piece containing certain images you won’t soon forget.

Verdict-3-5-Stars

Zombies Ho!

[Rec]4 Apocalypse

by Hope Madden

In 2007, Paco Plaza and Jaume Balaguero revived the already dying first-person-camera gimmick with a claustrophobic zombie flick that was imaginative, bloody, and thrilling – though you may remember their [Rec] better by its American remake title, Quarantine. In both, a news reporter and her cameraman are trapped inside an apartment building under quarantine with a rabies-like virus running rampant. No matter the language, the film was a fun and exciting ride.

The American franchise petered out with one sequel (Zombies on a Plane), but its Spanish counterpart has spawned three offspring. [Rec]2 put us right back inside the quarantined building to find that the virus had some kind of demonic origin, while the third installment saw that demon zombification take on a wedding reception. The latest in the series returns to the scene of the crime, as a new team of responders infiltrates the apartment building to set detonators – then one handsome hero hears the call of that lovely reporter, Angela (Manuela Velasco).

Those of us who have kept up on the series happen to know something about Angela that noble Guzman (Paco Manzanedo) does not. If you have not kept up, well, you and Guzman may have a surprise in store.

Balaguero helms this mission solo, placing Angela, Guzmon, the sole survivor of Part 3’s wedding, some armed goons, some sketchy doctors, and a hapless crew onboard a ship to really put some miles around this particular quarantine. Corridors, holds and lower decks give the action a heightened sense of claustrophobia, while Balaguero back peddles from both the silly wedding theme and the hokey demon-virus angle. He also uses security cameras to call back to the original first-person idea without succumbing to tired formula.

Otherwise, though, the film offers little in the way of novelty. The story and its telling are about as fresh as a poop deck. Balaguero can’t generate any tension from the medical experimentation angle and, worse still, he fails to use the sea itself as a source of isolation or claustrophobia.

On the other hand, the zombies have boils on their faces this time, plus there are infected monkeys, which are pretty mean.

[Rec]4 offers a serviceably entertaining riff on the original with much of what you enjoyed the first time around, especially if you enjoyed seeing Velasco in a bloody wife-beater. But it’s high tide and high time to lay this oft-reanimated corpse to rest.

Verdict-2-5-Stars

Spies Like Them

The Interview

by George Wolf

Forget the theories about this whole thing being a marketing ploy. If it is, it’s the worst marketing ploy ever, as The Interview is going to end up making millions less than it might have if the whole North Korea threatdown would have been handled differently.

But anyway…is it funny?

Yes it is., sometimes very funny. It also has some dry stretches, jokes that fall flat, and plenty of toilet humor, but Seth Rogen and James Franco do hit their targets fairly often. They get a big assist from Randall Park, who turns in a hilarious sendup of Supreme Leader Kim Jong-un and continually gives the film a boost at precisely the right moments .

On the Rogen/Franco scale, its no Pineapple Express, This Is the End or Neighbors, but The Interview is far from a national disgrace.

America! F&^% yeah!

 

Verdict-3-0-Stars