BLACK BOOK - HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL 3: SENIOR YEAR - RACHEL GETTING MARRIED - NE LE DIS A PERSONNE - THE CHANGELING - VICKY CRISTINA BARCELONA -

Movies & DVD’s from October 25th 200 onward…

BLACK BOOK - Zwartboek - [2006]
By Paul Verhoeven

One would expect nothing less than good quality schlock from Dutch director Paul Verhoeven. After all, twenty five years ago he pretty much gave up his art-house reputation as an original visionary of pop-art [much like a contemporary painter] with several international hits behind him, when he sold his vivid visual flair to Hollywood and began churning out popular escapist fare such as TOTAL RECALL [great story treated as funhouse junk], BASIC INSTINCT [intense pop-art masquerading as brooding intellectualism] & SHOWGIRLS, among his most popular, [even when years later the latter is still seen as a pure and simple guilty soft-porn pleasure]. Funny enough, Verhoeven hit pay dirt with his biting satirical & allegorical sci-fis, the original ROBOCOP and its twisted bookend STARSHIP TROOPERS [however more twisted it can be]. These films were surely violent, graphic, colourful and oh very enjoyable.

So a lot can be said for the now older, reclusive director who has chosen to go back close to twenty-five years later and create a Dutch film on his home turf, more or less. But don’t mistaken BLACK BOOK for just any Dutch film because in many ways just as he never sold out his European flair in Hollywood, he hasn’t ever really left the Hollywood that he has succumbed to. Instead of the typical lala land war espionage flick one would run to see these days, we now get a subtitled, convoluted Dutch treat at two hours & thirty minutes; a variation which is just as exciting, violent, graphic and as blatantly shocking as you’d come to expect from a Paul Verhoeven film. In his world, everything’s explicit, always has been and always will. And at the same time, it is never ever boring.

In BLACK BOOK, a film that sets itself up in Israel ten years after the Second World War, attractive Carice van Houten [upcoming in Tom Cruise’s VALKYRIE] beautifully, even tenderly, plays a Jew in Holland during the harsh Nazi occupation. Ellis de Vries is a singer by profession, who long ago gave up her identity as the Jewish Rachel Stein, after witnessing her family murdered by the Nazis. Now she must try to survive by using her guiles to seduce men and lure them to help the underground resistance movement. That she has talent, charms and most of all sex appeal works for the large part in her favour but as she gets in way too deep she is no longer sure who is to be trusted and where the deceptions and betrayals lie.

The many men in our lives include Nazi general Muntze as played by Sebastien Koch [from THE LIVES OF OTHERS] who falls for her and even tries to save her, the duplicitous Dr. Akkermans [Thom Hoffman], who betrays Ellis’ trust, resistance leader Kuipers [Derek de Lint, star of Oscar winning THE ASSAULT twenty years back] and greasy General Franken [smarmily played to perfection by Waldermar Kobus].

To the end, knowingly or not, Ellis is very much on her own trying to survive. The flashback plot device works well until the film’s finale – once again in Israel. It seems as if Verhoeven always films his images according to storyboards & drawings. I can just imagine these concise drawings being vivid in colour and tone. I cannot imagine a single image not perfectly rendered as it was sharply drawn.

Nonsense or not, Verhoeven is a sharp and talented film stylist. He is the equivalent of hairdresser to the stars Vidal Sassoon, at least by reputation. He has grasp and control of his cinematic environment. If anything, he keeps a 156 minute film moving along at a brisk pace with its many twists and turns, and as much blood as plot. Yes, BLACK BOOK starts off glowing like a showcase peacock, as to how proudly it is based on true events but then once going it is not easy to be convinced how such a complex story [even complicated at times] with so many characters working for, with and against each other [some doing all of the above at the very same time] can even begin to sound or look “real.” Yet this is not important at all. What is important is that Verhoeven made yet another giddy contribution to his long list of oeuvres in his filmography.

Funny enough, watching van Houten as Ellis, I kept being reminded of one of the ultimate Verhoeven protégé, Renee Soutendijk, a star that years ago would have made this movie a massive film festival hit. Ms. Soutendijk later moved to Hollywood and became an actress of very little noteworthy efforts [EVE OF DESTRUCTION]. Hope Ms. van Houten manages her own career with a better selection of films.


HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL 3: SENIOR YEAR
By Kenny Ortega

There’s something to be said for a man my age, young at heart, lucky enough to accompany his nine-year old niece on a ritual cinema house visit, roughly every few months or so. I have had the good fortunes ever since I’d enlisted to this fun-type chore, when my niece was old enough to appreciate movies and specifically began responding to the movie musicals that have always been rooted in my heart. By design, perhaps, she suitably took over from me, her uncle. As such, she and I are perfect companions. She takes in whatever I have to offer, with much affection for both the movies and me, who has exposed her to this world.

The downside is that she seems to have long ago become synthesized to the sound and sights of musicals that even if she’s seen everything from GREASE to SOUND OF MUSIC to HAIRSPRAY, every single one of these films seems to register at precisely the same responsive note. It’s a) all the same and b) all good. Beyond that, it would be very hard to differentiate a Disney musical from, let’s say, CHICAGO.

Notorious for first choreographing the awfully two-steps-behind- faddish XANADU and then Coppola’s empiric downfall, ONE FROM THE HEART [he also had a handful in PRETTY IN PINK & FERRIS BUELLER’S DAY OFF], Kenny Ortega finally cemented his dance-step reputation with DIRTY DANCING, the incredibly popular throwback paean to the sixties, for which he was later rewarded his directorial debut with the ill-fated failure NEWSIES in which he tried to revive the Disney musicals when they were no longer revivable. A lot has happened since, including the helming of numerous television episodes from ALLY MCBEAL to GILMORE GIRLS. There’s even pre-production talks right now for a FOOTLOOSE remake, a movie that to many seems to have been made not to long ago but in fact first hit the silver screen 22 years back. Perhaps making FOOTLOOSE all shiny and new will further Ortega’s career.

As for now, Ortega must contend with the fact that the biggest successes (and surprises) under his excitable belt would be two recent direct to DVD- Disney hits called HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL and HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL 2, smash let’s-put-on-a-show sensations that have apparently tapped into the minds and hearts of kids everywhere at almost any age demographic. Now just in time for the fall season, Ortega has gone even one better with a large screen continuation to the plot-less plot, the infectious kids treat HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL 3: SENIOR YEAR, a confection filled with sticky lick-y hip pop tracks and love ballads echoed with emotionless sentiments by an attractive young cast. The current recycled radio sounds of Justin Timberlake and company, all original and mostly set on an oversized faux-stage and a larger than life tree-house, are warbled smoothly by talented mouskeeters, role-playing high school graduates but looking and sounding a lot like Florida back lot talents.

The team includes Zac Efron, as hero Troy Bolton, a conflicted basketball star cum stage hound, and his sweet-as-pie lovely girlfriend, Gabriella, played to saccharine perfection by Vanessa Hudgens. And while Ashley Tisdale reprises her infamous self-centred Sharpay Evans, the girl who wants to steal the show & limelight, she’s never really much more threatening on the big screen. And her mild shrew is understandable when you realize that the film is geared towards six-year old girls and the likes. Yes, kids familiar with HSM, will be happy to see that the rest of the gang’s here too and that the film also introduces a minor character here and there. But apparently all’s pretty much the same in this FAME retread. Somewhere between kitschy Broadway and a giddy musical revival, in fact not far off from films that didn’t quite work in the past, comes this good natured, formulaic and, at times, monotonous musical full of good intentions.

Think back how HOPELESSLY DEVOTED TO YOU and SANDY may have come off to a child at the theatre at the time and then remember what happened when YOU’RE THE ONE THAT WANT took over the film. Now, in perspective, think that HSM3 is smack caught somewhere between GREASED LIGHTENING and BEAUTY SCHOOL DROPOUT, filled with catchy fillers, and you’ll get a good idea. None of this is Ortega’s fault, mind you, he did what he had to do. By the end, my niece felt the same as always and then I confirmed her sentiments exact.








Rachel Getting Married
By Jonathan Demme
The wedding invitation just got another nasty RSVP. Over in suburban Connecticut, RACHEL GETTING MARRIED plies with disdain and much frustration, and under any normal circumstances would make a perfect companion piece, if not foil, to MARGOT AT THE WEDDING, the other sibling rivalry in-attendance film in recent months [and the much better film]. Alas, RACHEL is anything but normal, and RACHEL, even with a ceremony, never really gets to celebrate the nuptials in hopeful bliss. Perhaps Rachel, herself, is the single most centred character in place, while certainly not the film that bears her name in Jenny Lumet’s first, surprisingly unfocused, and even ugly script, where family members never get past the hurt or blame of a horrible misfortune that will most probably haunt them forever.

This achingly uncomfortable Jonathan Demme entry, not surprisingly hailed by many as his best since SILENCE OF THE LAMB, is not merely satisfied in openly setting his Buchman family dysfunction and dystopia with all of its uptight resentful members and all of their fleshy wounds. No, Demme wants to take it all in, document it for us and turn it into cinema verite. His intrusive hand held camera documents it all and lets all the pieces unravel in front of our very eyes. Even worse, on that special day, it would seem, he wants to lovingly intrude on these people’s unforgiving misery as if it were fun to do so. That it doesn’t really please his audience or even aim to do so seems questionably irrelevant to Demme. He’s more intent on catching the unsuspecting moment of such lives, and the lives of those around them, by being a fly on their wall, except that this wall is as grimy as it gets and it’ll take a long time to clean up - far longer than the film’s two hours will allow.

Shameful, since as much as he pretends he is as interested in the details of the wedding, with odd characters who’d fit right into an Altman world, Demme does take painstakingly long to cover such trivialities as chats around a table, a band’s eclectic performance and the long-winded ceremony itself, I presume to stake his indie film claim. Here and there Demme gets back to the content, I am assuming Ms. Lumet’s script, about the very troubled family reunion. That they only occupy a portion of the film perhaps is the bliss.

As it is phoney, the script, it works against the grainy realistic filmmaking style. Making real people out of actors is no easy feat and if it was not for the fact that RACHEL is mercifully held together by the fragile, damaged performance of Anne Hathaway as overtly pained Kim and the equally stunning Rosemarie DeWitt as her inertly angry sister Rachel, this film would not stand a chance of getting my RSVP.

Much has been made about Debra Winger’s return to the big screen [she’s done minor work in obscure titles but this is her breakthrough return opportunity] and I can see why she was attracted to the material. But in all honesty I don’t think that she pulls it off to the extent of her praise.

Watching this film, ORDINARY PEOPLE came to mind and just how much more extraordinary that film was without really trying.

Ne le dis à personne TELL NO ONE [2007]
by Guillaume Canet

There’s lots of fun to be had while watching TELL NO ONE. Mind you, not the kind of enthusiastic kick one may get from scoping an adventurous thrill ride of a mystery. But, more so, an hypnotic charge in which the viewer – a voyeur in this instance - cannot peel his eye off the screen lest a pivotal clue appears in this titillating French stumper, itself adapted the International bestseller by American crime novelist Harlan Coben. Fittingly in language and locale, the film seduces its audience in its mystery and Gallic charm.

Popular French actor Guilaumme Canet takes on the director’s chair [and a small but important role] tying all potential loose ends to create this taut suspenser and, in doing so, he manages to accomplish what a lot that other recent films of its genre – mainly Hollywood products – have not managed to successfully do in a very long while. That is, Canet mesmerizes his viewers, takes them deep into the heart of a story that, for all its preposterous results, still unfolds wonderfully. The final result is that TELL NO ONE works in mysterious ways. First, there’s an intriguing premise; then, a thrilling plot to follow and, finally, a coda that closes the book – so to speak - satisfyingly if excessively.

Prolific Francois Cluzet expertly plays the beaten, burdened and weary Alexandre Beck, a paediatrician still mourning the mysterious death of his wife, a woman he has known since childhood, even eight years later. As the case reopens, and once again Beck becomes the prime suspect, he makes every effort to uncover the truth and clear his name. It’s much like the Fugitive but deep-seated in a much grittier reality of Parisian culture and life. Cluzet is marvellous to watch [a French Dustin Hoffman, perhaps] and he truly leads the weaving of a story that is at once complex [a cynic may even say contrived] and thoroughly engaging. A dramatic tension is developed throughout as the film unfolds introducing a score of characters all somewhat instrumental to the mystery.

You’ll even find a likable Kristin Scott Thomas underplaying as Alexandre’s best friend who also happens to be the lover of his sister, as played by Marina Hands. Securing some prestigious weight are great performers of the French screen past all rewarded with meaty parts; from Jean Rochefort as a shady philanthropist, to Nathalie Baye as an overly protective & controlling defence lawyer and, most notably, the comfortable Andre Dussollier as the dead woman’s embittered dad. He is particularly very effective in a key role. Yet what makes the film even more dramatically engaging is Marie-Josee Croze’s sensitive portrayal of Margot Beck, Alex’s misfortunate wife. For her little time on screen, this French-Canadian beauty [MAELSTROM, THE BARBARIAN INVASION] pulls off a seductive spell on everyone around her, on-screen and off.

Yes, the film at times plays tricks with its audience by replaying scenes, introducing new ones, and shifting gears, all in the filmmaker’s efforts to place pieces of the puzzle together, simultaneously with the audience, one step at a time. Some of the liveliest moments come in form of revealing flashbacks to Alex and Margot’s childhood, placing them at the exact spot of the tragedy years later. In truth the revelation may have little to do with the mystery and everything to do with the characters. It is a clever devise that allows us to interpret upcoming actions, feel for the characters and appreciate the mystery as it unfolds.

TELL NO ONE works in many ways other films only wish they could. Perhaps even in ways it actually shouldn’t, but it does, precisely because it seems so effortless. The story, like a slippery eel, keeps twisting about and sliding all over until it reaches its dramatic coda. Alex’s salvation is to finally realize the truth that’s been held back from him all these years. The unfair beauty, and the film’s irony, is that the audience discovers it too at precisely the same time. IN TELL NO ONE there are no hidden agendas, perhaps, but in fact everything’s hidden until the very end. TELL NO ONE takes its title literally which may cost the film its cherry on an otherwise very tasty cake.

The Changeling [2008]
by Clint Eastwood

A reminder to anyone who’s ever forgotten – or even doubted - that superstar Angelina Jolie actually knows how to act, and very well indeed, THE CHANGELING is set to right what many believe was wronged when Jolie was not nominated last year for her portrayal of Mariane Pearl in A MIGHTY HEART.

As directed by Clint Eastwood and, especially, as written by J. Michael Straczynski, in what comes off as a very disciplined script, if a bit too polished, THE CHANGELING is nothing I thought it was ever going to be and yet something I was completely satisfied with. I heard great early buzz before Cannes and then mixed reviews in the aftermath. Yet, I did not take note of what the story was actually about. Mostly I heard the film being compared to CHINATOWN, LA CONFIDENTIAL and FRANCES, none with which I completely agree.

Essentially a drama ripped off from golden era headlines and one that could have easily been made for television by an equally proficient but surely less artistic director, here Clint Eastwood gets to recreate a time and place that is nostalgically so pure from afar, so prudent in its revisionist beauty, that right off the bat the single mother Angelina Jolie plays comes off as slightly ahead of her time – a modern woman – even if not by choice and very much by design. Playing against her is an unbelievably gruesome tale that anchors this true-to-life morbid account, mainly focusing on the corrupt or incompetent police force [at times, even both] bungling its case with all of its might. Ironically, certainly with intent, Eastwood seems to provokingly taint the wholesome nostalgic backdrop with such ghastliness and injustice. He takes a period piece that suggests romance and then coats a somber, murky tone beneath its surface.

The story of Christine Collins, a simple single mom, whose son disappeared one quiet day only to return several months later in the incarnation of another boy – one Christine surely knew was not hers– must have made the daily news, certainly front pages of papers – over eighty years ago – before the media was so sophisticated yet tacky enough to eat it up and sell it as sensationalism. That the LAPD was very determined to prove Christine was wrong in her disclaimer and therefore tried to have her committed makes this, at times, an irritating film to watch. It is in fact Jolie’s brief revisit to GIRL, INTERRUPTED territory that mostly sits uncomfortably. You watch in disbelief as her Christine goes up against a wall and then another. But you somehow know that, this being an Angelina Jolie vehicle, she will eventually need to triumph, no matter how bittersweet the outcome may be.

What follows is somewhat longwinded at two and a half hours, trying to establish a chronological time frame in Christine’s two years plight for justice, with so many diverging and merging stories that fill in the plot and a uniformly strong supporting cast [except for for uber-actor John Malkovich, who’s never been among my favourites]. Yet for some reason, perhaps in the name of interest [the film kept me hooked] THE CHANGELING is never tedious even when it is mostly reduced to a procedural courtroom drama. Even then, it is surprisingly deft and enlightening. Perhaps, there’s not much mystery to the story – there can’t really be, it is way too straightforward, but Eastwood’s choice of presentation does not really hurt the film one bit. And maybe somebody will get it right this time and nominate Jolie this year coming.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona [2008]
by Woody Allen

Calling on all Woody Allen fans who have long ago gave up any hope that the genius would return to form. And while he is not quite there yet, the Woodman has made great new strides with a film that is at once both familiar and welcoming to his devotees AND inspiringly all sexed up to lure a new, younger audience – the university crowd. His latest entry is not a timid one by any means, albeit reflecting some sort of soft porn concoction left behind from the seventies, which is refreshing in its ways and not as naïve as one would first think. Allen’s form of a liberating, fun wheeling, free spirited morality tale works on screen akin to Madonna’s successful retro releases of late. Except that here we get a head rush, a stimulus, that is truly cotton candy for the mind.

An overly comfortable, even monotone, narrator begins to unfold this tale of two libidinous best friends, played to sweet yet corrosive perfection by Scarlett Johansson and Rebecca Hall as they sojourn through Spain [and Allen’s done narration before – ANOTHER WOMAN springs to mind - so it’s not such a new concept for him]. The man’s confident voice and self-assured tone casually keeps us updated in an irony-free, obvious manner as his voiceover deadpans the audience. We experience precisely what is promised. There are no lies on screen, even when the characters deceive each other, we get to see through it all. We are in on all of the going-ons, the shenanigans and the hypocrisy that is such a trait of human nature and common in most Allen films.

As the gals traipse through Barcelona, not unlike in teasers from Emmannuelle era flicks, in creeps the charming lady killer in the form of Javier Bardem. He sooner than turns on his agenda-free yet slimy charm and becomes the sexy-ugly object of their affection. The story’s schematic drama is that while Johansson plays the naive libertine prepared to love and get hurt, Hall takes on the role of a disciplined, pragmatic sceptic, and this year’s Woody’s voice, and yet somehow both woman manage to connect to Bardem’s passionate mind. They are both seduced by his lure, which creates in large the central conflict in VCB.

This is precisely when Allen unleashes upon us, the earthy, passionista, recharged Penelope Cruz. Her arrival could not have been better timed. In yet another wonderful performance, following VOLVER– Cruz – like a sexy bull in a china shop - creates one deranged and out of control Maria Elena – overtly emotional ex of Javier’s Juan Antonio, and lover to all. She is so deliciously good [& natural] as a Spanish firefly that she takes over the screen at every opportunity [she should stop making films that stunt her talent and start rethinking along these lines of VOLVER & Allen]. Thankfully, Johansson holds her own in their more intimate scenes together. Lastly, even Patricia Clarkson has a biting bit as a bored gossip who hides her own unhappiness. True to its 70’s feel, VCB is like a Kraft recipe that shouldn’t but somehow does work. The movie is non-stop fun from start to end.

Leaving London behind and sidetracking through Spain, perhaps Allen was inspired by Pedro Almodovar, maybe even David Hamilton; hard to say but quite possibly easy to swallow. In VCB he delivers his best impression of his own glorious past. Thinking back at Woody’s extensive career as filmmaker and scenarist, it’s truly been a long while since he’s pulled off something this exciting to both listen to and watch intentively. And it’s also about time. We knew he had it in him – perhaps he rediscovered it through his latest muse in Johansson. She very well could have brought him to this place. Yet without a doubt, even not knowing it at first, but most definitely realizing it as he was filming, he’s found a new perfect fit in Penelope Cruz. VCB is precisely that kind of film where its three-letter anagram makes for a perfect logo on a matching hand bag. It’s something quite fetching.